Chapter Twelve

G aliena had a fitful night of sleep. Not because of concern about the mission, or fear for the queen's child, or worry that Anora and Frode were safe. She had a fitful night because she couldn't get the memory of Red's touch on her skin or images of him out of her head. When she did banish the thoughts of Red from her mind, then she was overwhelmed with thoughts of her husband and self-condemnation.

Adam had been a kind and loving husband. They had been content in their life together raising their daughter on the small family farm he'd inherited from his father. She loved him well when he was alive, and she did not stop loving him or her beautiful little Nahara after they were gone.

No one could ever displace Nahara in her heart, but what would happen to the love she had for Adam if she let another into her heart? She never wanted to forget Adam, and in spite of the kind words of Lady Alyce, she feared that if she ever loved another, the memory of him would fade until it was gone. And then he would be gone because there would be nothing left of him, and no one left to remember him.

But during the darkest and coldest part of the night, she realized that the real reason she would not let herself love another was because of her own guilt for not dying with her husband and daughter. It was a cruel fate to have failed to save them and then survive to relive the moment every day of her life. Every day she would repeat the memory when Adam went under the water never to surface again even as Galiena splashed through the flood to get to him. And then Nahara, who had been hanging on to the wagon, lost her grip and was swept away. Galiena had lunged for her, fighting the same current that had taken Adam, but she couldn't reach her baby girl before she was gone beneath the surface, too.

If only she hadn't made Adam stop so she could pick the flowers beside the riverbank, or if only she hadn't hesitated before plunging into the sudden and unexpected flood water, they might still be here with her. If only she'd been a better swimmer. If only…if only. But the truth was, she could change nothing, and her regret and guilt were as strong as the flood that had taken away the two most important people of her life, leaving her feeling as suffocated as if she herself had drowned.

After dozing sporadically, she finally rose and donned her clothing when the fire had burned down to a few embers. Dawn could not be so very far away, and she did not want to risk being left behind. Lady Alyce had found a saddle bag for her to carry her few belongings during the journey. In truth, nearly everything she had was borrowed, either from Anora or from Gertie. She wore the undertunic that Anora had sewn the hiding place into for the parchment, the braies that belonged to Anora's brother, as well as the boots and heavy tunic Gertie had found for her. She packed the soft chemise that Lady Alyce insisted she bring with her for the nights, as well as the simple gown belonging to Gertie of fine linen dyed forest green for her audience with the queen.

When she had everything packed into the satchel and ran her fingers over the missive tucked in her sleeve for the dozenth time, she blew out the candle on the sideboard and opened the door.

To her surprise, Red was already standing in the corridor. Bed coverings were wadded up in his arm, and his sword was gripped in one hand as he opened the door to his chamber with the other.

A surge of heated embarrassment—and disappointment—coursed through her veins at catching him returning to his room from what she assumed was a tryst. Although, why he didn't just bring the woman to his room, she didn't understand. Perhaps he felt it was an act of chivalry on his part to not risk her overhearing his love play with another woman after he'd been kissing her only a short while prior.

"Not a very restful night for you, I see," she said, meaning to keep her tone light. She had pushed him away and had no right to expect…what? Loyalty?

Unfortunately, her voice had an unintended edge to it.

"There are worse places to sleep than the floor."

She realized then that he'd slept in the hall in front of her door and flushed with embarrassment, feeling contrite about her hasty assumption that he had been returning from a tryst.

Wait there," he instructed as he withdrew into his chamber. He returned a few moments later without the blanket, shoulders covered in a fur, sword still in hand, and a saddle bag thrown over his shoulder. He took the satchel from her hand and flung it over his shoulder with his pack, then grabbed her hand and started toward the stairs.

"Why did you sleep on the floor?" she asked, perplexed by why he'd chosen discomfort if he had a bed in his chamber anything like the bed she'd just slept in—well, tossed and turned in, though that had nothing to do with the comfort of the bed and everything to do with the thoughts in her head.

"To ease my mind."

She barely heard his muffled answer because she was distracted by the broad expanse of his back as he dragged her along behind him. When he reached the spiral stairs, he changed the angle of his hand so as to give her a steadying hold as she followed him down the dimly lit steps.

Hawk and four other men were already gathered in the hall when they entered. She tried to pull her hand from Red's, but he tightened his grip and flashed her a quick grin. His possessiveness should have bothered her more than it did, but she found she was grateful for his reassuring presence.

"Good morn to you," Hawk said clapping a hand on Red's shoulder. "The horses are saddled and Cook just sent Wart out to attach the bags of provisions."

"Give her my thanks," Red responded, then turned as though to take his leave.

Galiena pulled back on his hand, refusing to budge. When he turned to look at her, she gave him a disapproving look and tipped her head in the direction of the men.

"They'll be riding with us," Red said, then started toward the door again.

Again, she stood her ground and pulled back on the obtuse man's hand. "Red," she said through tight lips.

This time he stopped to turn in her direction. "What?"

She tipped her head again toward the other men.

"They can be trusted," he said, still not understanding that she wanted to be introduced to the men.

"She's trying to tell you to quit being rude, Viking," Hawk said with a laugh.

Galiena nodded, adding in a low whisper for Red's ears only, "If we are to be traveling with these men, the least you can do is introduce me."

She heard a few stifled coughs behind her and turned to see two of the men smiling in amusement and the largest one shaking his head at Red.

Red turned to glare at the men, then grunted their names as he gave each a cursory glance over his shoulder. "Ox. Dane. Bard. Wolf."

She waited for him to tell them her name, and when he didn't, she decided she'd have to do it herself. She tried to turn to face the men more fully, but Red was walking toward the door again, hauling her along with him. Over her shoulder, she said. "My name is Galiena, and I apologize for Red's rude behavior."

Red stopped suddenly and she crashed into him. "Did you just apologize for me?" he asked, a comical look of indignation on his face.

"Aye, I did," she said, ignoring the laugher behind her. "These kind gentlemen are going to be traveling with us. The least you can do is tell them my name."

"Methinks he is afraid he will lose you to the charm of someone less ugly and oafish than him." The one called Bard said this, a dazzling and mischievous grin splitting his face. He had blond hair that hung in waves to his shoulders, chiseled features, and sparkling eyes that undoubtedly appealed to most women. Even she would admit he was a handsome man, but she preferred Red's more rugged features and his powerful intensity.

"He is most definitely not ugly," Galiena said with a snort of laughter at Bard's jest. "But ‘oafish' is an apt description this morning. The daft man slept in the corridor instead of his bed, and I think he is a bit waspish because of it."

"Slept on the floor in the corridor, did he?" Hawk asked, with a knowing grin toward Red and a wink at Galiena.

"Mighty chivalrous of you, Viking," Ox said, his voice a deep rumble befitting his name.

Wolf and Dane did not add to the banter, but they were definitely enjoying the ribbing from their companions.

"Enough," Red growled. He released her hand, and for a moment Galiena thought he was embarrassed by all the attention—until he crouched down just enough to wrap an arm around the back of her thighs and lift her up. The men roared with laughter.

"Red!" she exclaimed, grabbing onto his shoulders to steady herself. She was the one embarrassed now. "Put me down." But Red only grunted in response, while the men laughed even more loudly.

As they approached the heavy wooden doors leading to the bailey, she thought he would surely need to release her to open the door since he carried the satchels and his sword with the other arm. But Wart chose to enter the hall at that very moment. When he saw Red coming toward him with Galiena hoisted on his arm, he pulled the door open wide and stood holding it with a smile on his face.

"The horses are ready," Wart said with boyish enthusiasm. "The pretty lady said she wasn't yours, but she was wrong, wasn't she, Master Red?"

"Remind me to give you a coin when I return, Wart."

"Aye, Master Red!"

Galiena let out a sigh of annoyance as she draped an arm over Red's shoulder and settled into accepting that she was going to be carried from the castle despite any amount of protesting.

"You are a scoundrel," she muttered, though she had to admit she felt enlivened and invigorated in a way she'd not felt for many years.

"You said I am most definitely not ugly," he said as he descended the stairs into the bailey. "Last night you said you couldn't concentrate when I was near you."

She had said both of those things and though she wanted to regret letting him know how much he really affected her, it was liberating to actually feel something other than sorrow and regret. "Aye, I did say that, but there is no need to get cocky about it. After all, that Bard fellow is quite appealing, as well."

He jostled her in his arms when she said the last, and called over his shoulder, "Wart! Tell Bard his service is no longer needed."

"I was only jesting, Red! His looks are too boyish for my liking. Don't embarrass him."

Wart was running alongside them now. "What did you say, Master Red? I don't think I heard right."

"Nothing of importance," Red conceded as he set Galiena on her feet next to a horse. "Wart, take this satchel and attach it to my saddle," he said, handing the boy his saddle bag. He strapped his sword to his waist, then tied Galiena's satchel to the saddle of what she assumed was going to be her horse.

Galiena eyed her horse, then compared it to the other horses as the men easily climbed into their saddles. "It's a very large horse, isn't it?" She tried to sound more confident than she was feeling. It wasn't the height that bothered her so much as the sheer size of the horse's chest and neck. It was obviously a powerful horse; she hoped it wasn't also obstinate.

She patted the beast on the neck, murmuring to it as a means of soothing herself, when Red returned to her side, crowding her against the horse's shoulder. He was standing so close, she had to tip her head back to look up at him towering over her.

"You can still change your mind," he said in a low voice. "Stay here under Hawk's protection while I ride to intercept King Edward."

The thought of how comfortable it would be to stay in a chamber that was as large as her cottage, sleeping on a luxuriously deep mattress with thick blankets as the fire burned in the stone hearth while Red and the others rode for long days in the cold and wet definitely had its appeal.

But then she thought about how hopeless and dark her life had become constantly living in the shadow of her grief over Adam and Nahara. If she did everything she could to save the life of the innocent baby prince of England, it would not bring her family back to her, but it would restore some of her faith in herself. "No," she said. "As I've said, I must do this for my own reasons."

He cupped her chin in his hand and brought his face so close to hers she feared he was going to kiss her right there in the open with his men looking on. "Do not forget it was your choice when you are cold and wet."

She swallowed, thinking more about the fact that part of her was hoping he would kiss her despite the audience. "My choice," she repeated, her words embarrassingly breathless.

"You want me to kiss you, don't you." It is an arrogant statement rather than a question.

She slowly shook her head though her heart was pounding with anticipation in her chest. "I want to be on our way."

A small squeal escaped her lips as his hands came to her waist and pulled her closer. She clutched his forearms with her gloved hands, her breath catching as he closed the distance between their lips. When his mouth was so close to hers she could feel the warmth of his breath against her face, he said in a hoarse whisper, "Again, your choice."

Then he was lifting her off her feet and onto the back of the horse.

"Don't fall off, kitten," he said, slapping her on the thigh as he would one of his soldiers.