Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

G iven how deserted the village of Eastmoor had appeared, the fact that Tay's cottage was equally dusty and deserted-looking on the inside wasn't a surprise.

After leaving the longhouse, Tay had taken Athdara to his cottage, which was one of the larger ones in the village. The door was unlocked, and they entered into a common room that was split off from a secondary chamber toward the rear, looking as if it had once been a kitchen. The chamber had an enormous hearth that it shared with the common room, and there were rusty iron pots and pitchers and other things, quite old, that suggested someone had once cooked there. It also sported a table, rather beaten, with two equally old chairs.

The floor above had three chambers—a larger one facing the street, a smaller one that had trunks and other things stored in it, and then a chamber that faced the rear of the house and the fields of Blackchurch beyond. There was another tiny staircase that led to an attic space, perhaps once used by servants. Tay told Athdara to take her pick of any of the chambers, and she chose the attic space because it was far from where he would be sleeping. Not because she wanted to be far away from him, but because propriety dictated it. Athdara had had time to think about the situation since leaving the longhouse, and she'd come to a few conclusions, most of which were confusing.

It was confusion driven by attraction.

Tay had, since the beginning of their association, been something of interest to her. Even when she discovered he was the mighty Leviathan, that attraction hadn't been dampened, though their ensuing relationship had been puzzling. It was still puzzling. The man who had sworn to drive every woman recruit into the ground had somehow become her advocate.

How could she not be attracted to him?

She had been since the first.

Now, here she was in his home. While he went off to attend to his recruit class and completely forgot about the food he'd promised her, Athdara arranged her meager possessions in her borrowed chamber. She remembered seeing trunks down in the small chamber on the floor below, so she went down there to find something to put her belongings in. She found four trunks in that room, three of them full of things and the fourth one empty. That one ended up in her chamber.

Something else missing from the chamber was a bed. Athdara went down to the first floor again, hunting around for a bedframe or something that could be used as a bed. Whoever lived in the cottage before Tay had left behind a good many things that were dusty and, in some cases, broken, but there were useful things amongst the rubbish.

The large chamber overlooking the street was clearly Tay's chamber, and there was a bed there, topped with a dirty mattress, and bed linens strewn all over the place. She didn't want to take his bed, so that meant she had to either fashion her own or find one she could reasonably fit together. She ended up behind the cottage, where there was more clutter and more junk left over from decades of trainers and perhaps even their families living in the village. It was mostly rubbish. She came across broken chairs that could be easily repaired and, at some point, a spindle.

There was actually a good deal of discarded possessions behind the cottages, and she brought two chairs and the spindle back into Tay's house. She ended up wandering back behind the rows of cottages again, looking for things that were salvageable, and after much searching found a bedframe and the rope to go with it. She also found a small barn, listing heavily to one side, that had more junk in it. All of it appeared old and worn and looked as if it didn't belong to anyone, and that included a canvas bag that ended up being a mattress without the stuffing. Someone had cast it aside long ago.

After dragging the bedframe, the rope, and the mattress back to Tay's cottage, she began organizing everything. It had been a very long time since she'd had a place to call her own, but years ago when she was the chatelaine of Breda Castle after the death of her mother, she was quite organized and knew very well how to run a house and hold. It was a talent that came naturally to her, and given that Tay was graciously allowing her to stay in his cottage, she was going to repay the favor by doing the chores and cleaning up for him. She figured that it was the very least she could do for this man who seemed intent on advocating for her. Helping her.

The mere thought that there may be more to it made her heart leap.

But first things first. Athdara hauled the bedframe and the rope up to her attic room and very carefully pieced the bed together. The rope was strong, if not slightly dry and brittle, as was the bedframe, and she was rather pleased with the bed once it was fully put together. After that, it was simply a matter of stuffing the mattress. She knew she could either use hay or feathers, and she was certain hay would be easier to come by.

She went on the hunt. Athdara could see the stables from the rear of the cottage. They were off to the northeast, near the north gate. The rain that had been threatening for the past couple of hours was now swiftly approaching, and fat drops fell from the sky. They were sporadic, however, so it was no hardship as she dragged the canvas bag toward the stables. She was certain she could gather her hay and return to the cottage before the rain began to fall in earnest.

As she hauled the mattress up the road and across the field toward the stables, Athdara realize that this was the first time in years that she had felt a sense of safety and purpose. She wasn't running from anyone, nor was she living her days in panic. It was the first time since fleeing Breda that there was a measure of stability in her life, even if she was living in a stranger's cottage. Since her uncle had tried to kill her entire family, she had been in flight-or-fight mode. But now, at a training guild for warriors, she was finally experiencing her first measure of peace in many years.

It was all rather astonishing.

Help from well-meaning strangers had made all the difference. Of course, her father had something to do with it, too. Quite honestly, he had everything to do with it. She would have never been admitted to Blackchurch without her father's relationship to St. Denis. That was the only saving grace of this situation. But the kindness of St. Denis and the initiative of Tay when it came to helping her find her way was something she could never repay. The only way she could think to do it was what she was doing now—by taking care of Tay's house, by being useful, and by learning everything she was about to be taught. By being diligent and grateful, she hoped that those at Blackchurch would know just how much their kindness and loyalty meant to her.

It meant she could get her life back.

The stable loomed ahead, and as Athdara drew near, she could see what a busy place it was. Not surprisingly, there were many stable servants and horses being serviced. She slowed her pace as she approached the first bank of stables, where a couple of stable servants were brushing out a big bay stallion and a smaller gray palfrey. The servants saw her approach, slowed their movements, and watched her with great curiosity as she came to a halt and explained what she wanted. Since she didn't want them to deny her—which was quite possible, since they had no idea who she was—she invoked the name of the Leviathan, and they seem to be more than willing to give her all the hay she wanted. In fact, the two servants dropped what they were doing and helped her stuff that big canvas bag. They stuffed it until they could stuff it no more.

With a mattress full of hay, Athdara had to drag it back to the cottage. It was probably a half-mile from the stables, and by the time she reached it, the rain was starting to come down in sheets. She lugged the mattress up to her chamber and put it on the bed, pleased that she finally had something decent to sleep on. It was just an old, dusty mattress, but to her, it seemed like heaven.

The next step was linens, and she had seen some in the old closet where the trunks were. She managed to find a very old, very worn coverlet that was shoved into one of the trunks. She didn't know whom it belonged to, but she didn't think Tay would mind if she used it.

As the storm outside began to thunder, Athdara put an old iron pot on the hearth and went about finding kindling, which was quickly located. There were also two buckets by the back door that looked as if they had not been used in quite some time, and she used those to haul water back from the well in the village square. All of that water went into the pot on the hearth, and when it started to boil, she put the coverlet into the water.

With the fabric boiling away, she turned her attention to the chairs that she'd brought in from behind the cottages. She was attempting to repair one of them when the front door opened and Tay came through. He was soaking wet, but the moment he saw all of the activity in the common room, he came to a surprised halt.

"What goes on here?" he asked.

Athdara had been sitting on the floor, trying to mend the chair. She put it aside, standing up and brushing off her hands.

"I'm boiling some linens I found," she said. "I hope you do not mind. I did not wish to trouble you over things like a bed and linens, so I found them myself."

He shook himself off like a wet dog, and droplets went flying. "Of course I do not mind," he said. "I did not expect that you should have to fend for yourself. I have recruits to attend to, and that is where I have been."

"I know," she said. "Have you decided when I shall begin my training?"

He ran a hand over his wet hair as he moved toward the warmth of the fire. "Tomorrow, of course," he said. "You will be working with me first before you are moved to another trainer."

"How long will I train with you?"

He looked at her before running his hand through his wet hair again. "At least two weeks," he said. "We shall see once we begin the training."

Athdara nodded, returning to the hearth to check on the boiling linen. "Since you are permitting me to stay here, I thought that I would tend to your cottage," she said. "I will scrub your floors and make sure everything is as you like it. The one thing I do not have, however, is any food. Would it be possible to procure some?"

He suddenly looked at her in horror. "Christ," he muttered. "I asked you if you were hungry earlier and completely forgot to find you some food. You must be famished."

She smiled weakly. "I am."

"Then let us go over to the kitchens and have a feast," he said. "Or would you prefer to return to The Black Cock?"

"Can we?"

"Of course," he said, but it thundered heavily overhead, and he reconsidered. "But mayhap we shall simply go to the kitchens for now. I can go. You can remain here and finish with your linens."

But Athdara shook her head. "I will go," she said. "They are over by the cloister, are they not? I have only eaten with the dregs, and we were fed where we slept. We were not allowed to go anywhere else."

He nodded in understanding. "Then I will show you where the kitchens are," he said. "There is a hall there. We can simply have our meal there."

"Don't you ever eat in your cottage?"

He shook his head. "Never. Why? This place is empty. It is nothing to me but a place to sleep."

"You do not view it as your home?"

"Of course not."

She looked at him rather strangely. "But you live here," she said. "It is your home, at least while you serve as a trainer at Blackchurch… isn't it?"

"As I said, it is simply a place to sleep."

Athdara could see that he wasn't attached to the place, and she felt rather sorry about it. She looked around, at the fire, at the bare floors.

"It is a very nice place," she said. "I am most appreciative of your letting me stay here. I've not had a home in almost three years, so to me, it means something to have chairs to sit in and a fire in the hearth. If I sound foolishly sentimental, then I apologize."

His attention lingered on her for a moment. "I'd not considered that," he said. Then he noticed the broken chairs behind her. "Is that why you were fussing with the chair when I entered?"

Athdara looked over at the chair on its side. "Aye," she said. "I found them in the fields behind the cottages. There is an entire treasure trove back there, like furniture and buckets and things. As if someone just cast them all out there and left them to rot."

"Someone did," he said. "When Blackchurch took over the village, most of the stuff from the cottages was simply tossed aside."

"That explains it," Athdara said. "I found an old bed and brought it up to my chamber and pieced it together. I also found a dusty old mattress that I filled with hay. I'm sure I could find more things, given time."

His gaze moved to the hearth. "And now you are boiling linens," he said. Then he snorted softly with regret. "I have been a terrible host, my lady. I put you in an empty cottage and an empty room with nothing for your comfort. Please tell me what more you need, and I shall have it brought to you."

She smiled. "You have not been a terrible host," she said. "You have given me a roof over my head and the means to make myself comfortable. I am very grateful."

Tay's focus returned to her, the light of warmth coming to his eyes. "You are being polite," he said. "I promise I will be a better host from now on, and to reinforce that promise, I will take you to the kitchens at this moment to find that meal we have spoken of."

"You would be a better host if you tell me that you've already spoken to Marina."

"Marina?"

"My chaperone."

He lifted his eyebrows in understanding. "Ah," he said. "That. Nay, I've not spoken to her. I've not been over to The Black Cock. Isn't that where you said she was?"

Athdara nodded. "Aye," she said. "Mayhap we should go over there, after all. You can speak with her and I can eat."

He shrugged. "If you wish," he said. "But in this rain, you will become soaked."

She smiled faintly. "The rain and I have become good friends since I fled Breda," she said. "It is nothing at all."

His gaze remained fixed on her for a moment, and it was clear that he was reflecting on her words. "Mayhap you will tell me about all of your trials and tribulations since leaving Breda someday," he said. "I can only imagine what you have endured."

"No more than God has intended, I am sure."

He conceded the point. "Then you were right, you know."

"What about?"

"You told me I would never meet a more un-cowardly woman. You were right."

She smiled, embarrassed, and lowered her head. "I said that because I did not want you to leave me at The Rook's Nest," she said. "I very much wanted to come back here and train. Mayhap it was a boast, but there are things… things I will tell you about someday that will prove it. But I do not wish to speak of them now."

"Understandable," he said. "I suppose there's nothing that really frightens you any longer, not after everything you have been through."

Athdara looked at him then. "There is something that frightens me," she said seriously. "It frightens me to my bones."

"What?"

"My little brother."

"What about him?"

She sighed softly as she thought on his question. "Is he well?" she said. "Is he happy? Is he safe? Once I left him with the farmer's family, I could no longer protect him. I told you that we had been followed by bounty hunters, and I do not even know if one has found him. They will kill him, you know. He is only seven years of age."

"Would you like me to find out?"

She looked at him, startled, and as he watched, tears filled her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. She tried to compose herself but couldn't seem to.

"That is the kindest thing anyone has ever asked me," she said, bursting into soft sobs. "I miss him so dreadfully. My mother died giving birth to him, and I have raised him since that day. He's more like my son than my brother, and I am terrified for him every day that I live."

Tay smiled faintly, going to her and putting his hands on her arms in a comforting gesture. "This is the first time you've really spoken of him more than in passing," he said. "I can understand that you must be attached to him. As you know, I have a younger brother myself whom I care about."

Athdara was furiously wiping away the tears. "I remember," she said, sniffling. "My brother's name is Nikolai. We call him Niko. What is your brother's name?"

"Garry," he said softly. "It is another loch near Loch Tay. My father was adamant that his sons bear part of the land they were born in, and that happened to be our names. It's a lifelong reminder of where we come from."

She looked up at him, still flicking away tears. "Your father loved his country," she said. "My father loved his. There is something about men who are born in a land they bleed for and, in my father's case, die for. I wish you could have known my eldest brother, Milo. He was most courageous and fierce. His death was a great tragedy for so many reasons, but in Niko, there is hope. There is hope that my family will not die and be forgotten. There is hope that he will bring about a new age for Toxandria."

Tay's smile grew as he gazed into her emotional features. "Spoken like an ardent loyalist," he said. "I meant what I said. If you would like for me to send someone to see to your brother's welfare, I will. In fact, I will ask Lord Exmoor for permission to bring your brother back to Blackchurch. He could not be safer anywhere in the world than here."

Athdara's eyes widened in surprise before she quickly broke down in tears again.

Tay laughed softly. "What now?" he said. "What did I say?"

In response, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Caught off guard for a moment, Tay wasn't sure how to respond, but very quickly, instinct took over. His arms went around her and he pulled her against him, savoring the very first feel of her in his arms. She was warm and compliant, and something in his chest seemed to swell. He had no idea what it was because he felt breathless and giddy. Overwhelmed.

His arms tightened.

"Thank you," she said, muffled, into his wet tunic. "He would not be any trouble, I swear it."

The top of her head was just below his chin, and he lowered his head, rubbing his jaw and cheek against her hair.

"I am not making any promises, but I will ask Lord Exmoor," he said, his voice oddly husky. "Mayhap we shall bring him back here and put him to work. He can help train the recruits."

Through her tears, Athdara burst out laughing and looked up at him. "He was raised as the son of a duke," she said. "He has been taught to command men. I am not certain the recruits would appreciate that, however, coming from a child."

She was barely cognizant of the position she found herself in. Her arms were still around him, and his were around her. In fact, he was pulling her tightly against his muscular frame, his dark eyes riveted to hers. But he was coming closer. His face was closer. Athdara could feel his breath against her cheek, hot and gentle. Somehow, an ember had sparked between them, something that made her heart race and her palms sweat. He didn't say a word as he gently slanted his mouth over hers.

The spark exploded into a fireball.

Athdara had been kissed before in her young life. There was a particular knight who served her father whom she had kissed often, but it hadn't been anything more than a youthful dalliance. She kissed him because she liked to and nothing more. But the moment Tay's lips latched on to hers, she entered a world that filled her veins with heat and turned her limbs to jelly. Her arms, which had been around his waist, suddenly went around his neck as their kiss turned into a firestorm.

He was musky and delicious. The days of the young knight were erased from her brain as Tay kissed her deeply, leaving his mark more strongly than if he'd branded her. He licked at her lips, begging for admission, and she opened herself to him as her hands went into his hair. In his lust, he picked her up and backed her against a wall so she couldn't get away from him as his mouth did titillating things to her lips and neck. He suckled the skin of her jaw, pinning her arms over her head so he could move freely. Compressed between Tay and the wall, Athdara was so caught up in the moment that all she could do was stand there and enjoy it.

And enjoy she did.

Tay's lips were hungrily devouring every bit of flesh he could come across—face, neck, shoulder, even her ears. But she was returning his kisses, a willing participant. In fact, she had just latched on to his earlobe, feeling his shudder against her, when there was a knock on the cottage door.

They both froze.

Above the noise of the rain and thunder, they weren't sure what they'd heard, but shortly, there were again several loud knocks. Tay released Athdara and went to the cottage door, pulling it open.

Bowen was standing there.

"My lord," he said, drenched. "I have been unable to find the lady that fled yesterday. The one you went in search of."

Tay's gaze was steady. "I know who you mean," he said. "Her name is Athdara."

"Lady Athdara," Bowen corrected himself. "I know she returned before you did, but no one seems to know where she has gone. Would you happen to know, my lord?"

Tay's brow furrowed. "Why are you looking for her?"

Bowen pointed to a figure standing several feet behind him. "Because this one has come looking for her," he said. "She says the messages she brings is a matter of life or death."

What light there was from the hearth illuminated a figure wrapped in an oiled cloak who stepped forward when Bowen pointed. Tay found himself looking at a woman with dark, wet hair and big brown eyes. It took him a moment to place her—she was the very woman he and Athdara had spoken of. Marina , Athdara had called her. The lass from The Black Cock, the one he'd seen Athdara with.

Tay could tell just by looking at her that the message she bore was not a good one.