for him to fade from her memory. He wanted no one to remember him, no one to know who he was. It was the only way he could protect himself from being recognised—especially if he succeeded in the task his commander had set before him.
‘I will remain here,’ he answered in his own language. ‘You may sleep in peace, and I will watch over you for the night.’
She stiffened at that. ‘And what is it you’re wanting from me in return?’
He had no expectations of her, but simply answered, ‘Tell me your name.’
She seemed to relax at his request, recognising that he had no intention of harming her. ‘I am Carice Faoilin, of Carrickmeath. And you?’
‘I am Raine de Garenne.’ The name would mean nothing to her, he was certain.
She pulled the coverlet higher and asked, ‘Are you alone here?’
‘I am.’ At least for now. It was likely that other priests and holy men might come to view the damage when they received word of the fire. By then, he intended to be gone.
‘Why? Where are the rest of your men?’
‘I will join them in the morning. I stopped here only for a short while.’ But he would not tell her all of his reasons.
Instead he said, ‘There is food and drink, should you want them. I bid you adieu.’ He kept his hood over his head to shield his appearance from her, departing the room before she could ask more questions.
* * *
The next morning, Carice awakened in a strange bed. The sheets held the unfamiliar scent of a man’s body. It was like being entangled with someone else, though she knew she had slept alone. And although bits of memory returned, making her realise where she was, she felt an intimacy with the man whose bed she had shared.
Raine had kept his word not to harm her, and she had slept soundly, feeling safer than she had in years—which made no sense at all. Slowly, she sat up, holding the bed coverlet close. It was always difficult to stay warm, and she was never comfortable any more—not really.
But strangely, the night of rest had renewed her strength. She eased her legs to the side of the bed and saw the food and drink waiting near the fire. There was also a basin of water upon the floor near the hearth. Curious, she eased out of bed and walked slowly towards the waiting chair. She sank down upon it and then reached out to the basin of water. Steam rose on the surface, and she realised then, that he’d heated it for her.
Her heart stumbled at that. When she touched the water, the heat made her sigh with pleasure. How had he known when she would awaken? She eased off her stockings on impulse and placed her freezing feet into the warmed water.
Bliss sank through her, and she smiled as the heat overtook her. Though she knew nothing about Raine de Garenne, he had sensed her needs and cared for her in a way she’d never anticipated.
The food was meagre, only a bit of dried meat, walnuts, and raw parsnips. But she recognised the offering for what it was—the best he had to give. She ate the meat and walnuts, and was deeply grateful when her stomach did not ache at the food.
At Carrickmeath, the constant nausea and stomach difficulties had been neverending. Only after she’d left, had her aches diminished. It had made her wonder if someone had been trying to poison her in her father’s house. She couldn’t understand why, if that were true. There was no reason for anyone to harm her—she had no power at all within the tribe. Although she was betrothed to the High King, her death would accomplish nothing.
But since she’d left, each day had become a little easier. At least now when she ate, she didn’t feel as if knives were carving up her insides. Perhaps it was the taste of freedom that made food more tolerable.
Carice had just reached for the parsnip, when her door opened. In the daylight, she got a better glimpse of Raine, though he was still wearing the hood to hide his features. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered like a fighter. He wore chain mail armour with a leather corselet and a long sword hung sheathed at his waist. Under one arm, he carried his conical helm.
Why did he continue to hide his face? She was curious about this man and the mysteries surrounding him.
‘Thank you for the warm water. And for the food,’ she said, speaking the Norman tongue. ‘I am sorry. I should have saved you some, but I fear there’s only a parsnip—’ She held up the white root vegetable apologetically, but he dismissed her offer.
‘It was meant for you,’ he countered. ‘I’ve already eaten.’ He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at her.
It made her uncomfortable, and Carice asked, ‘Won’t you sit, then?’
And remove your hood so that I may see your face, she thought to herself. He was clearly hiding his identity, though she could not guess why.
‘Where are your escorts?’ he asked. ‘Who was guarding you?’
She removed her feet from the basin of water and dried them with the hem of her gown before replacing her shoes. ‘No one. I was running away.’
‘From whom?’
Carice sent him a half-smile. ‘My father was escorting me to my wedding. I am betrothed to the High King of Éireann.’ She remarked, ‘I suppose you’ll want to turn me over to them for a reward. They would pay handsomely for my safe return.’ Most men would be eager to hand her over for the promise of silver or gold. But she rather hoped that he would leave her alone.
Raine paused a moment before his hand moved to the hilt of his sword. ‘It’s more likely that your father would kill me, believing I was the one who took you.’
His candour revealed a man of intelligence. ‘That is indeed possible.’ She straightened the hem of her gown and stood up from the chair. ‘If you would help me to disappear where they’ll never find me, I could compensate you for your assistance.’
He didn’t move as she took a step closer. Then another.
‘Please consider it,’ she said softly, reaching towards his hood.
His hands seized her wrists, drawing them downward. His grip was firm, almost bruising. ‘I have other duties more important than you, chérie.’
Carice drew back, startled by his refusal. ‘I don’t doubt that. But I was only asking for your help.’
She tried to pull away, but he held her wrists fast, as if he had more to say. His silence made it clear that he wasn’t going to help her escape. Her nerves took control, and she continued talking too fast.
‘Trahern MacEgan was supposed to help me leave last night, but he never arrived. I had no choice but to run, while we were still far away from Tara.’
Raine gave no response. Slowly, his thumbs edged the pulse point of her wrists, the heat of his touch burning through her. Why did he continue to hold her hands? Carice stilled, and the caress moved through her like a wave of yearning.
Her heartbeat quickened, and his fingers laced with hers. Never had any man touched her in this way, and her mind envisioned his hands moving over her bare flesh. Upon his forearms, she saw the evidence of scarring, the healed
