Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Aisley lay on her pallet, staring up at the shadowy outline of the rafters above. Beside her, Diera slept peacefully, her even breathing an echo of the gentle snoring coming from their mother's pallet. Aisley had been under her covers with her eyes closed when her mother and sister had returned from the great hall the night before. Their whispers had been loud enough for Aisley to gather that Wulfhere had been as disgruntled about the brooch he'd received from the king as their mother had been. Diera had made no protestations. She rarely did. Especially if the end result involved the acquisition of fine things.

Grateful that they'd assumed she was asleep, Aisley had shut out the murmuring and allowed her thoughts to dwell on Brecc. In the quiet of the stables, he'd held her hand and promised to tell her the truth. She wanted to believe his kind words, but trusting one man's declaration over years of comments that had convinced her she was inferior was difficult. Mayhap that was why she loved working with healing plants. In that sphere, she knew she excelled and could make a genuine difference. Her mother grudgingly admitted that Aisley's skills had likely surpassed her own. But in all other ways, Aisley fell short. She was not so pretty or tall or elegant as Diera, not so outgoing or confident as Wulfhere. Indeed, up until her recent interaction with Brecc, Aisley had been largely overlooked in public settings.

She had learned to expect the lack of attention; she was comfortable with it. The way Brecc made her feel, however, was not comfortable at all. She placed her hand on her stomach, hoping the extra weight would calm the fluttering that began whenever she considered the way he had looked at her in the stables, or the way it had felt to have her hand in his.

No, this sensation was not at all comfortable. Stifling a groan, she rolled onto her side. It would be horribly cold outside her covers, but continuing to lie here awake would be even more torturous.

The decision made, she donned her outerwear with as much speed as her fumbling fingers allowed. Not wanting to awaken anyone else, she picked up her shoes and tiptoed across the room. Opening the door, she stepped outside. The winds had abated, and a frosty silence hung over the buildings on the royal estate. Pausing long enough to put on her shoes, she tucked her hands beneath her cloak and stepped onto the path.

The first sounds of morning reached her as she walked. A bird singing from a treetop, a horse neighing in the stables, the clatter of pans from the kitchen, and a woman's voice—likely the cook—scolding someone for being too slow. The servants were already hard at work. It would not be long before the paths between buildings were filled with people.

Passing the kitchen, Aisley continued toward the stables. Footsteps approached, coming from the direction of the men's longhouse. Raising her hood, Aisley lowered her head slightly. Given the choice, she would rather not engage in conversation with a stranger. Especially while she was alone.

"Aisley?"

Her head shot up. "Ealdorman Rheged!"

"Rheged," he corrected. "Please call me Rheged."

"Very well." She studied his face. He had color in his cheeks—no doubt enhanced by the cold air—and the listless look was gone from his eyes. "I am glad to see you so much improved from the time I saw you at the market."

"Aye. That was a rough go. I am indebted to you for your assistance."

"Not at all." She eyed him curiously. He was without a cloak and carried a long sword in his belt. "May I be so bold as to inquire where you are off to?"

"You may." He patted the sword at his side. "I was forcibly reminded only a day ago that my swordsmanship could use some work. I thought some early-morning practice would be worthwhile."

"Such diligence is impressive."

"Well, there we are, you see. If I cannot be praised for my skill with a sword, I shall try to attain it for diligence in practice."

Aisley giggled. "Such a fine character trait must surely be worth something."

"Most certainly. And that is precisely what I shall tell Brecc when he claims he bested me the last time we sparred."

"Claims?" At the sound of Brecc's voice, Aisley's heart tripped. "Are you still refusing to admit defeat?"

Brecc stepped up beside them, but Rheged ignored him. "Pay him no mind, Aisley. It was an unfair battle. I was weakened by illness and lack of food, and he was a man possessed."

"Would you like a rematch?" Brecc asked, pointing to Rheged's sword. "It will take me only a moment to fetch my weapon."

"I believe I will take my chances with a pell," Rheged said. "It is far less likely to exploit an inequitable advantage."

Brecc smiled, but this time, it did not reach his eyes. "Fair enough. But do not destroy the pell completely."

"I shall make no promises," Rheged said. He bowed to Aisley. "Good day to you, Aisley."

"Good day, Rheged."

He offered Brecc a jaunty nod and set off toward the stables and the barn beyond. Brecc watched him go in silence.

"Were you at the river?" Aisley asked.

"Aye." He turned and offered her an apologetic smile. "Forgive me; I was lost in thought."

"Is it what you have seen or what have not seen there that worries you the most?"

His brow furrowed. "I did not speak of worries."

"No, but you clearly have them."

He shook his head slightly. "I am beginning to wonder if I might rue the day that I promised to always speak the truth to you."

"Of all the worries you may have, that one should never enter your mind again. If it would help to talk, I am a good listener. If you need time for quiet contemplation, we can walk in silence." She waited, barely daring to breathe. And then he smiled.

"I should like that very much," he said.

"To which ‘that' do you refer?"

"Walking with you. And talking. And thinking. I believe I should like to try a little of them all."

Aisley's heart lifted. "Then we shall."

Offering Aisley his arm, Brecc led her away from the cluster of buildings and toward the path that ran along the inside of the royal estate walls. She said nothing, clearly waiting for him to initiate a conversation. And yet he felt no undue pressure to speak. She truly seemed content to simply walk, and he found her presence at his side remarkably assuasive.

"Rheged thinks me a fool for concerning myself so much over a Viking invasion that has yet to materialize." He sighed. "Mayhap he is right."

"There was no sign of anything at the river this morning?" she asked.

He shook his head. "It is likely a far-flung hope that word of Viking movements would reach Chippenham that way. But it is a hope I have been willing to keep alive, if only to bring a measure of peace to my own mind." He frowned. "It has helped, but I have been unable to fully assuage my unease since our arrival here."

"There may yet be a reason." Her grip on his arm tightened. "May I share a personal experience?"

"Of course."

She nodded, taking a moment to compose her thoughts. "When I was very young, I fell into a creek that ran along the outskirts of my father's property." A smile crossed her lips. "I think it likely that I was attempting to pick flowers beyond my reach.

"Thankfully, my father arrived in time to witness the accident and to pull me from the water. Afterward, he told me that he received a distinct impression that he should remove himself from the stables, where he was seeing to one of his horses, and go to the creek. The feeling did not make any sense to him, but he chose to act upon it and, by so doing, undoubtedly saved my life." She looked up at him. "He believed that God willingly offers us warnings and instruction but that few of us listen."

"I am no priest or holy man, Aisley. It is hard to believe that God would send a message to me when He could choose someone of far greater influence."

"My father was no priest either," she said. "And I most certainly am not. Yet there have been times when I have felt prompted to offer particular herbs to someone who is ailing, without any understanding of why the herbs might help. My father's counsel has caused me to wonder if those feelings might come from a divine source."

Brecc's thoughts reeled. Surely Aisley's suggestion was unreasonable. Some men of the cloth might even consider the notion that God would communicate with a lowly girl, a father, or a warrior to be an offense against heaven. And yet, regardless of the startling nature of the concept, it did not feel blasphemous to Brecc.

His free hand rose, his finger feeling for the scar that ran across his cheek. Why had he turned at the precise moment the Viking warrior had aimed his blade at Brecc's throat? He'd not heard the heathen's approach above the horrific sounds of the battlefield, and he'd barely caught his breath from dispatching one of the Viking's comrades, but the impression to step aside had been strong enough that he had acted upon it. His face was forever scarred, but his life had been spared.

"Even if what you say is true," Brecc said, "why would God choose me? King Alfred is a pious man. He spends hours with the priest, speaking with God each day. He is fully committed to doing God's will. He would be a far better conduit for a heavenly message."

Aisley's faint smile hinted that she had pondered similar questions. "Do you recall hearing the priests tell the story of David and Saul or Esther and the Persian King? It seems to me that God has already established a pattern of communicating with those who might righteously influence a ruler." She paused. "Have you spoken of your concerns to King Alfred?"

"I have. He listened, but he believes that Guthrum will honor his oath." Brecc gave a troubled sigh. "It is what King Alfred would do, and as a man of his word, it is difficult for him to conceive of a leader doing otherwise."

"Guthrum is not guided by the same morals."

"No," Brecc said grimly. "He is not."

They passed the entrance to the estate. The gates were open, and Brecc could see the glisten of the River Avon in the distance, through the trees. In less than twenty-four hours, the thegns would leave this place for their respective homes. The king and his retinue would relocate soon after. Mayhap the Viking threat would come then, when the leadership of Wessex was scattered. Brecc wished he had a better understanding of the Viking chieftain's way of thinking.

"No matter what lies ahead for Wessex," Aisley said, "the king will benefit from having you so keenly alert to the Viking threat."

Her words were kindly meant but did little to lessen Brecc's underlying frustration. For the best part of a fortnight, he'd felt more helpless than helpful. He was ready to have the Twelfth Night celebrations behind them and some normalcy restored.

"Will you return to Trowbridge on the morrow?"

"I believe that is what my brother has planned, although my mother and sister refuse to speak of anything but the Twelfth Night banquet, so I do not know the details of our departure."

Brecc did not especially wish to consider the details of Aisley's departure either. He had come to know her uncommonly well in a few short days, and he would miss her.

The thought startled him with its intensity and truth.

"I will go with the king, but I have yet to learn his plans for our removal from here." He glanced at her. "Mayhap I could persuade him that a visit to Trowbridge would not go amiss."

The warmth of her smile lit a fire in his chest. "You would be most welcome."

They had reached the large oak. He drew her off the path and under the tree's protective limbs. She looked up at him, her beautiful green eyes capturing his. Dear heaven, how had she come to have such influence over him in so short a time?

"I shall do everything in my power to visit you there soon." He raised his hand to brush some hair from her face. The strands ran softly through his fingers.

She nodded, but the enthusiasm he had hoped for was missing. "I pray it will not be too late."

He lowered his hand. "Forgive me. Have I misstepped?"

She looked away. "Not at all."

"Aisley?" Gently, he touched her jaw, guiding her eyes back to his. "Tell me what is troubling you."

She met his gaze without flinching. "Wulfhere informed me yesterday that he intends to find wealthy suitors for me and Diera forthwith. He wishes to use our marriages as a means of filling his coffers."

Her words were like a physical punch to the stomach. Did Wulfhere truly see his sisters as nothing more than property to be bought and sold?

Brecc had the ear of the king and a valuable parcel of land on the southern coast, but he had no hidden stash of gold. Upon his father's death, Brecc had been left sufficient funds for his needs; amassing a fortune had never been his focus. Truth be told, up until three days ago, he had not given more than a fleeting thought to providing for a wife and family sometime in his distant future. At twenty-seven years of age, he was still young, and his life was devoted to defending the crown, which left little room for anything—or anyone—else. Even now, he was not sure that he was ready for marriage. He simply knew that the thought of Aisley married to another made him want to beat Rheged in a sword fight even more handily than he had the last time.

"Wulfhere cannot do that." Even as Brecc spoke the words, he knew they were false. The ealdorman was fully within his rights to arrange marriages for his sisters.

"He can, and he will." She swallowed, and the hurt in her eyes was almost Brecc's undoing. "So, if you do intend to come to Trowbridge, I would ask that you not delay your visit too long."

"I shall come," he promised.

She nodded again, and this time, a single tear rolled down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb, his palm cupping her jaw as his fingers disappeared beneath her hair. Her skin was so soft. He took an unsteady breath, willing himself to take a step back. Now. Before it was too late.

"I will watch for you," she whispered. "Every day."

His heart pounding, he drew her closer. He hadn't truly wanted to retreat. He knew that. But was this what she desired? Lowering his head, he hesitated one excruciatingly long moment, and when she did not pull back, he brushed her lips with his. Her breath caught, but then she leaned into him, and his lips sought hers once more.

She smelled of thyme and some other flower she must have been gathering recently, and she fit in his arms as if she were always meant to be there. He pressed her closer, losing himself in the deepening kiss. And then, somewhere nearby, a cockerel crowed, announcing the beginning of a new day. Slowly, reluctantly, Brecc relaxed his hold on Aisley. She took a stumbling step back before raising her head to meet his gaze. Soft color tinged her cheeks.

He smiled gently. "I believe that irritating bird was determined to wish you good morning."

"Good morning?" She gasped and turned away. "I must go!"

"Is there somewhere you must be straightway?"

"Yes. No." She started toward the path, and Brecc hastened to follow after her. "I do not suppose we are the only people in the vicinity to have heard the cockerel's wake-up call. If I am not in my chamber when my mother and sister arise, they will want to know what I was about, walking the grounds so early."

"I see. And am I to gather that you are not well versed in dissembling?"

"I am not," she admitted, the color in her cheeks deepening. "And there are some things I would rather not share with them."

Admiring her wisdom, Brecc offered her his arm. "Come," he said, picking up his pace. "You shall be there before the troublesome cockerel crows again."