The Shielded Heart

’Twas a simple decision to seek him out and help, if she could.

She had no trouble finding Siwardson in the swirling mass of weapons and men. He towered over the others, the firelight glinting off. his flaxen hair. He’d tossed aside his fur-trimmed cloak, and fought garbed in a short woolen tunic and leggings. They’d afford him scant protection, compared to his mail-clad opponents.

Praise God, he appeared unharmed.

Anna stopped and stared. He was grinning!

Surely he must be mad.

She crept closer. Siwardson fought with the grace of a dancer, darting about, both blades flashing, urging on his attacker with a laughing taunt even as he moved in to slash his face. He stabbed the smaller knife into the man’s forearm below the short sleeve of his mail tunic. While the man cried out in pain, Siwardson pulled his knife free, stepped closer, and disarmed him. Working quickly, he pinned his foe to the ground, bound his hands with a piece of rope from his belt and dragged him toward the brush alongside the clearing.

She peered past him into the shadows. There were several men, all bound, on the ground near the bushes. Siwardson must be a skilled warrior, indeed, to have overcome so many with such meager weapons.

But now, at least, Siwardson could arm himself properly. His opponent’s sword lay on the ground. He picked it up and moved it aside.

What was he doing? she wondered as he abandoned the weapon and rejoined the waning battle, his knives once again at the ready.

She knew little of a fighter’s ways, ’twas true, but she couldn’t help but believe that Swen Siwardson was a most unusual warrior.

It had grown quieter now, no battle cries, just the sounds of men—far fewer men, she noted with relief—engaged in serious combat. It appeared the tide had turned in her guards’ favor, for more of them remained on their feet than their assailants.

Her assistance wouldn’t be necessary after all. She eased her grip on the rock and stepped back into the shadows, prepared to wait as William had bidden her.

With luck, he would never realize she’d broken her vow. William in a temper was a sight to behold; she’d rather not be on the receiving end of one of his lectures. And William, unlike nearly everyone else who dwelled with them in the small village of Murat, had no qualms about taking her to task.

Intending to return to her tent, she eased farther into the fringe of the camp, her attention still fixed on the clearing. William, Siwardson and her other guards collected weapons and took the surviving invaders captive. They paused to bind serious wounds before they moved the men to the other side of the clearing.

She backed into a tree and smacked the side of her head against a low-hanging branch. The sharp pain jolted her attention away from the clearing—a wise decision in the shrouded darkness. Raising her hand to her temple, she found a tender lump still swelling. She’d best be more careful, lest she look as battle-scarred as the others.

When she felt the tug on her skirts, she thought she’d snagged them on another branch. Her senses swam when she bent to free herself, but the hand that grabbed hers and pulled her down cleared her head in a trice.

Anna tumbled to the ground off balance and landed, gasping, in a heap atop an armor-covered body. She drew in a deep breath, but a hard, foulsmelling hand cut off her attempt to scream.

“None of that, now, demoiselle,” he whispered in a deep, coarse voice. He shifted her about till she slid over his rough mail to sprawl alongside him, the weight of his arm across her middle pinning her to the uneven ground. “Don’t want you hurt. Got my orders. I’m to keep you safe—can’t even sample the wares,” he said with disgust. He pulled her tighter to him for a moment, and the hand against her mouth moved in a rough caress. “’Tis a pity, that—you’re a comely armful. But I need gold more’n I need a wench to tumble.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “That’s God’s truth. And you’re worth naught to me if you’ve been harmed.”

Orders? What could anyone want with her—harmed or not?

She didn’t intend to go along with him to find out.

Despite his avowal that he would leave her alone, his touch made her stomach clench with fear. She had to get away from him, soon. She lay quiet and listened, hoping to hear William or Siwardson—any friendly voice—move closer to this side of the clearing.

But it sounded as though everyone was far away, busy with the aftermath of the attack. Why hadn’t they realized she was missing?

Because she’d been told to stay put, away from the battle, a traitorous little voice taunted.

It seemed she’d have to rescue herself.

Anna took stock of her surroundings. All the activity seemed centered too far away to be of any use, so there was no sense trying to make noise to attract attention. What else could she do?

The darkness enclosed them. Anna could see nothing of her captor’s face, couldn’t judge if she might be able to reason with him. She knew from the feel of him that he was tall and muscular, pressing heavily against her and holding her down with ease. He stank of onions, horses and old sweat, the stench so strong she wished he’d covered her nose instead of her mouth.

She drew a shallow breath and let it out slowly. ‘Twould be a miracle if her heaving stomach didn’t decide to erupt at any moment.

Anna tried to open her mouth to bite him, but his palm pressed too tightly over her lips. She squirmed beneath his hold instead.

“Enough!” he snarled. He slipped his leg over hers and eased his weight atop her, then lifted his arm from her waist.

A wave of loathing gave her the strength to jerk her right arm free. She’d managed to keep hold of the rock she’d carried; she swung with all her might at his head.

The rock connected with his helm with a resounding thump and he jerked back and released her. “Bitch!” he snarled, lunging for her.

“William!” she cried as loud as she could. She scrambled away from him on her hands and knees, tripping herself up on her trailing skirts.

When a hand grabbed her ankle, she kicked out with her other foot and struck metal, hard, with her soft leather boot. The jolt shot up her leg, but she ignored her throbbing toes and drew back to do it again.

Her captor held on until her foot connected—this time with something with more give to it. His face, perhaps?

He released her abruptly, then crashed through the bushes as he hurried away.

Anna sat back with a thump onto the hard ground. She’d be a mass of bruises on the morrow, she had no doubt. Already she ached from head to toe.

Siwardson raced toward her, William hard on his heels. “What’s wrong? Mistress, what do you here?” he demanded.

She leaned against a tree, her head lolling wearily against the trunk until her hair caught in the bark and pulled on her bruised scalp. She sat up straight. “There was a man…You need not go after him. He ran so fast, he’s long gone.”

“Someone bring a light,” William called.

“And send two men into the forest,” Siwardson added. “Mistress Anna’s been attacked.”

William and Siwardson debated sending anyone after her assailant, finally deciding it would be useless in the dark.

Siwardson hunkered down beside her. “What happened? Why are you out here, away from the camp?”

William took the torch a guard handed him and joined them. “Are you all right, lass?” He leaned closer, the torch illuminating the concern on their faces.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, smoothing her hair back and wincing when her fingers brushed against the lump on the side of her head. William scowled, but Anna avoided his questioning look. “How did we fare? Are there many hurt?”

“Two of ours dead, and another two wounded bad enough that they might not last the night, God rest their souls,” William told her, his voice grim as he crossed himself. “But I think we got the better o’ that mercenary scum, thanks to Siwardson here.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Siwardson reached out and gently stroked near the bump on her temple. “Will you tell us now what happened, milady? Who did this to you?”

She had to gather her thoughts before she could answer; though she’d felt some pain at his touch, it was overlaid with a trace of that same tingling awareness she’d noticed before he rode into their camp.

She didn’t understand it, but ’twas a pleasant sensation. It flowed over her again as she met his gaze, distracting her from her aches, their surroundings…

’Twas too tempting to sink into that feeling, so she looked away.

“The lump is my own fault. I backed into a tree.” She looked down at her disheveled bliaut and focused her attention on smoothing out the fabric. “Then a man grabbed me and dragged me down into the bushes.”

“By God, ’twas a ruse to take you.” William slammed his hand against the trunk of a tree. “Are you unharmed, lass?” He handed the torch to Siwardson and stomped away. “The abbot’ll have my ba—” he coughed “—my head for this, and with good reason.” He paced back and forth, muttering to himself, then halted before her, staring at the ground, his ruddy face a deeper red than usual. “He didn’t touch you, did he, lass? I mean—”

“Nay, William,” she cut in, taking pity on his plight. Her own cheeks felt hot. This was not a conversation she’d wish to have under normal circumstances, but now, with Swen Siwardson at her side, watching her with the avid stare of a hawk…

This bone-deep embarrassment was yet another, unusual sensation he’d caused.

“I am…” she began, her voice weak. Find your backbone, Anna, she admonished herself. She forced herself to meet Siwardson’s gaze. “He did not touch me, other than to drag me to the ground and hold me captive.” Siwardson’s eyes darkened. “He treated me roughly, so no doubt I’ve bruises aplenty, but I’ll survive.”

“William, perhaps he simply saw this as a chance to take a woman,” Siwardson said. “We were otherwise engaged. If he’d been watching the camp before the attack, he could have seen Mistress Anna. She is beautiful. What man would not want her for his own?” he asked with a rueful smile. Anna’s pulse beat faster at his words, at the admiration in his eyes. “While his fellows fought with us, he decided he’d rather wrestle with a woman. ‘Tis a far more pleasant pastime.”

William shook his head. “Nay, ‘tis too easy an explanation. What I want to know is why they attacked us. We’re far from any keep, easy prey, I guess. But these lands belong to the Church. Robbers don’t usually bother us out here. There’s naught but wilderness between the abbey and the village. Look you, our road is traveled so seldom, it’s little more than a track through the forest. Keeps the rabble away, suits us fine.” He paused, hitched up his braes. “I can only think of one reason for an armed troop to be out here.” He looked at Anna. “We’ve never been attacked before, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. We’re guarding the abbey’s most priceless treasure, after all.”

“What treasure is that?” Siwardson asked.

William hesitated, then with a shrug, he nodded toward Anna. “Her.”

Chapter Three

Swen stared at William. “What do you mean?” he asked. A tide of heat washed over his face as he considered how his words might be taken. “I beg your pardon, lady. I did not mean that you have no value, of course. ‘Tis only that he spoke of you as though you…” He’d best stop, he realized, for anything he said would make things worse. “I don’t understand, but ‘tis none of my affair.”

Mistress Anna—nay, she was naught but Anna in his mind—stared down at her fingers, twisted tight together in her lap. She looked pale, as though she’d been ill, or would be soon. He was a rag-mannered lout to press them for answers that were no business of his. They’d been attacked, perhaps because of her presence here. Some of her men, men she probably knew well, had been killed in her service. Most likely she wished him and his curiosity long gone.

His absence was an easy enough gift to give her, though in truth, he’d rather remain with her. She and his reaction to her presented a puzzle he ached to solve. But ‘twould be churlish to press her out of a selfish desire to satisfy his curiosity.

Or to savor the pleasure of her company.

He stood and held out a hand to her. “May I escort you to your tent, milady?”

She peered up at him through her lashes, then placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her off the ground. She moved slowly, as though she hurt, but the look she turned his way dared him to remark upon it.

He understood pride well enough to ignore her challenge. He placed her hand on his forearm and covered it for a moment with his own.

William motioned them ahead with the torch. “Come along,” he growled, falling into step with them as they entered the camp. “’Tis past time to settle down for the night. And I’ve a powerful hunger and thirst. We’ll eat, then see what we can learn from those mercenary scum.”

A tug on his arm brought Swen to a halt. “William, how do you know they’re mercenaries?” Anna asked.

“‘Tis a simple matter. Their armor and clothes are worn and mismatched, their weapons, such as they are, were old in my father’s day, and they fight like a pack of wild dogs after a bone.” He glanced at Swen. “What think you, Siwardson?”

He’d plenty of experience with hired soldiers. “Aye, you could be right. ‘Tis a pity, for they’re not apt to tell us who hired them, or why.”

William grunted his agreement. “Probably don’t even know who paid ‘em, most like.”

Anna looked from Swen to William and scowled. “So some unknown person may have hired these men to attack us, or to capture me?”

“Aye, lass.”

“But why?”

William sighed. “Have you no notion of your value to the abbey? Your work is prized above most others’, and you’ve a gift no one can steal from you. There’s only one way to get it, mistress. If they take you, they take your gift. There’s plenty who’d pay no heed to whether you wished to work for them or not.” He doused the torch in the dirt, for they had no need for it by the fire. “At least they’ll do you no harm, if it’s any consolation. No one would risk damaging the goose that laid the golden egg. But have you never wondered why Father Michael keeps you and the village under guard? ‘Tis to protect you. Christ on the Cross, child, you’ve wits enough to understand this.”

“How wonderful,” she said, tossing her mass of hair over her shoulder. “If I’m taken captive, I need not worry for my safety.” She reached a hand toward William. “But what of yours? Or your men? We’ve lost two already, and for what?”

“They knew the risk when they hired on,” William said, but he did not meet her eyes. “They lived a good life in Murat, and their families will never want.”

“I know.” Anna gazed at William’s face for a long while. “But that doesn’t make me feel much better about their deaths. I do understand, William,” she murmured. She slipped her hand free of Swen’s arm. “I’ve forgotten my place in the world, I fear.”

“None of that, lass,” William said. “Come, sit by the fire and eat. You’ll feel better for it. Let Siwardson look over that bump on your head while I get the food.”

He’d not escape Anna’s spell so soon after all, Swen thought with a skip of his pulse. “I’m no healer, milady, but I’ll do what I can.”

Someone had brought a rough order to the clearing. Their victims and their few prisoners were gathered off to the side, overseen by an armed guard. The wounded would need tending; then, perhaps, they might be coaxed to reveal who’d sent them here.

Could they be so fortunate? He doubted it.

Though they’d been lucky so far. Anna had escaped abduction, only some of her men had been killed, and they had vanquished their foe—for the nonce. Much of their success was due to Anna’s guards. William had trained his men well; they were efficient fighters. He doubted that the grizzled captain had learned his craft in this remote backwater of the Marches. But whatever drew him here, ’twas to Anna’s benefit to have him lead her escort.

It wasn’t William’s fault she’d nearly been taken, Swen thought as he settled her beside the fire. Despite the fact that he’d been busy, he’d noticed her roaming about the clearing as the battle progressed. He was certain the older man had told her to keep away from the fighting. She shouldn’t have been there.

Though who could say she’d have been any safer in her tent?

If she’d been abducted from there, the farthest edge of the camp, they’d not have seen or heard a sound if she’d called for them.

He sat down next to her. “What happened back there?” Fingers tingling in anticipation, Swen reached to move her unruly curls out of the way. Her hair was so soft…

She turned slightly away from him to allow him better access to the lump. “The man lay hidden in the bushes.” She winced as he drew a finger over the bruise. “He grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me to the ground.”

“How did you get away?”

Her breath escaped in a hiss when he blotted the blood from the swelling. Surprisingly, she chuckled. “I hit him in the head with a rock—the one you used as a hammer.”

“So you gave him a bruise to match yours,” Swen said with a smile.

Her answering smile was so fleeting, he wondered if he’d imagined it. “Nay, it did naught but dent his helm. But when I kicked him in the face he released me at once and ran away.” She reached up and captured his hand in hers, bringing it to rest briefly against her cheek. “’Twas what he said that frightened me worse than being held down,” she added, frowning. “He told me he was to take me captive, but he must not harm me—” she met his gaze, her own steady “—in any way. Though he wanted to. But ’twas worth too much to him to keep me safe. Someone is willing to pay very well to gain my services, it seems.”

Swen tightened his grip on her hand, then released it. “Don’t be afraid,” he told her. “Do you imagine William would permit any harm to come to you? Especially after tonight’s events?”

“This is all too much to consider. That my guards laid down their lives for me…” She shuddered and wrapped her arms about herself. “It’s not right. They shouldn’t be at risk because of me. I only wish to do my work, without interruption, to the best of my ability, for the abbot keeps me busy with commissions. I don’t have time to worry about whether someone will try to take me from Murat. I’ve too much to do.”

Was her work so important? He knew he was ignorant about many things, especially life here in the south. A man who could fight and protect his family, or who could provide well for his loved ones through his skill in trading—those were talents of great value in his world.

And they were occupations for men. He’d never met a woman whose worth was not tied to her beauty, her family bonds or her dower. Anna de Limoges must create objects of great importance to be so valuable herself.

Despite the roaring fire, Anna continued to shiver. Swen looked around and spied his cloak where he’d tossed it aside earlier. He retrieved it from the ground and, after shaking it out, draped it around Anna’s shoulders.

She snuggled into the heavy fabric with a murmured word of thanks. He drew the fur-lined hood up around her neck, his fingers lingering to stroke along her cheekbone.

He’d been right earlier when he’d likened her skin to silk—soft and smooth to the touch, sending a shiver of awareness over his own skin before he forced himself to back away. “Does the cloak help?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

One of the guards brought them a trencher of bread and cheese and a wineskin. Anna picked at the food, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. She looked troubled, tired, and her face had not lost its pallor.

What could he do for her? he wondered, for her uneasiness weighed heavily upon him.

“Mistress Anna, don’t feel you must stay here on my account,” he said. “You’re weary, and dawn will arrive before you’ve had a chance to get much rest. Come, let me escort you to your tent.”

Her eyes grew round. “I don’t wish to be alone.”

“I’ll guard you myself. No harm will come to either of us, I promise you. Who would be mad enough to attack me?” he added with a grin, patting the hilt of his dagger.

Her answering smile was faint, but beautiful. He rose and helped her to her feet. “William,” he called, “Mistress Anna is retiring to her tent.”

The captain turned, set aside an ale horn and joined them, bending to kindle a torch in the leaping flames. “Get some rest, lass. ‘Tis the best thing for you.”

William went into the tent first, sword at the ready, and lit a lamp. “Come, lass,” he said, opening a bundle of furs and spreading them on the ground. “You look ready to swoon. Sit you down before you fall.”

Swen held back the door flap and led her into the tent. “I told her I would stand guard,” he said. “She is concerned that her attacker might return with more men.”

“Aye, ‘tis a good idea. There’s not enough of us left to sleep in shifts. We’ll all stay awake for what’s left of the night.” He gazed at Anna, curled up in the furs. “All except you. You might as well sleep, if you can.”

She nodded, though Swen didn’t believe for a moment that she’d rest. He could see too many questions in her amber eyes. But she’d stay put in the tent.

He’d see to it himself, if need be.

“Good night, milady.” He raised her hand to his lips. As he turned to leave her, an image suddenly filled his mind, a picture so vivid and real he felt it like a blow to the heart.

Swen drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he willed his feet to carry him a short distance from the tent. He slid his knife from its sheath and leaned back against a tree, letting the knife’s familiar weight soothe him.

He knew now why Anna de Limoges seemed so familiar to him, an awareness he felt deep within his being.

He’d seen her before—many times before.

In his dreams.

Chapter Four

By the time the sun began its slow climb into the sky, they’d tended the wounded, bundled the dead onto the pack animals and set off upon the last leg of the journey to the village of Murat.

Anna pulled her cloak high about her chin against the morning chill and fought to remain upright in the saddle. She hadn’t slept at all. Every time she closed her eyes, a confusing melange of images and feelings whirled through her brain.

And no matter how she tried, she could not regain her usual clearheadedness.

Her gaze strayed once again to the broad back of Swen Siwardson as he rode beside William at the head of their motley party. Mayhap she should blame him for her lack of sleep, for she’d felt his presence outside the thin walls of her tent all night.

She had no words for the sensation he evoked. It reminded her of the warmth radiating from a fire, more intense when he was near, lessening with distance.

It was as if some invisible cord bound them together.

He drew her toward him with no effort that she could see, yet like the flames, he tempted her nearer, pulled her toward the heart of the fire.

Anna closed her eyes and sought to clear her mind. Her puzzling reaction to this newcomer in their midst was naught but an aberration. She’d never met his like before, ’twas nothing more than that.

For the remainder of their brief journey, she sought to focus her vision on the brightly garbed trees, to keep her mind fixed with grim determination upon the tasks awaiting her return to the workshop.

Yet it seemed, for the first time in her life, she’d encountered a distraction that made the lure of her craft pale in comparison.

Siwardson’s face appeared before her mind’s eye, his ice-blue gaze intense.

And try though she might, she could not erase the image from her brain.

They reached Murat much sooner than Swen had expected. By his estimation, they’d traveled little more than a league or two from where they’d made camp. But given last night’s attack, he understood why William had stopped. If they’d sought to finish their journey by moonlight, they’d have made an even easier target.