Free Midnight Warrior by Iris Johansen

the sky last spring. I saw it, I wanted it, it was mine. Do you dislike it?”
    “No. I think it beautiful.” But she stared after the company of soldiers with trepidation. What kind of man was Gage Dumont to have chosen such a symbol? She had known no fear, but even the good monks had crossed themselves when they saw that comet. Yet Gage Dumont had made this supreme gesture of defiance. She felt a sudden desire to escape his presence. “I think I will go search for my water. It is taking far too long.” She started quickly down the hill, her feet stumbling on the scraggly tussocks.
    She could feel him watching her but he did not follow.
    I saw it
.
I wanted it. It was mine
. Arrogant words from an arrogant man. But she had an idea he was much more than he seemed. She glanced back at LeFont, who was now almost out of sight around the bend in the hill. She wished she had not noticed that pennant with its bold comet. It brought back memories of the night she had watched the comet streak across the heavens. The thought that somewhere that same night Gage Dumont had also been looking up at that comet gave her a sense of intimate bonding.
    Bonding? Sweet Mary, even their response to the comet had been different. She had stared in wonder and delight. He had decided to take it for his own. There could never be a bonding between them.
    Brynn opened her eyes at dawn three days later to see Gage Dumont staring at her across the tent. She should be accustomed to it, she thought drowsily. His gaze always seemed to be on her since that day he had plucked the leaf from her hair.
    The pearl-gray rays streamed over him, highlighting the hollow beneath his high cheekbones and turning his ice-blue eyes to the glittering metallic shadefound in fine daggers. He looked as if he were carved from granite, warrior-hard and without mercy.
    She inhaled sharply, coming wide awake. Her hands slowly clenched into fists at her side. There was something different in the way he was staring at her. At first there had been antagonism and annoyance and then, lately, a kind of catlike watchfulness, as if he were trying to determine something regarding her. The antagonism and annoyance were still present, but whatever he had been trying to fathom had now been resolved.
    I saw it. I wanted it. It was mine
.
    He might look carved from granite, but granite was cold and he did not make her feel cold. She could feel the heat sting her cheeks and a strange liquid weakness in her knees. Fear? No, it was not fear either.
    Whatever it was, she must push it away. Push him away.
    She closed her eyes and nestled closer to Malik.
    She heard a sound that might have been a low curse and was acutely aware of the waves of displeasure Gage Dumont was emitting.
    She did not open her eyes.
    “You should not still be here,” Malik told Gage. “LeFont says William has pushed on toward London. You should be with him, protecting your interests.”
    “I sent a token company of men,” Gage said. “We’ll join him when you’re better.”
    “That may not be until spring. I cannot even sit up yet.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I cannot do anything. I eat and then go back to sleep like a babe.”
    Gage smiled. “I believe you’re a bit impatient. It’s been only four days since we thought you a dead man.”
    “I thought I was too.” He glanced at the flap of the tent. “Where is she?”
    “The woman? She’s outside, boiling water. She had to prepare more salve for your wound.”
    “It must be a truly wonderful salve. I’ve never seen a wound heal so quickly.”
    “You just complained your recovery was taking too long,” Gage teased. “Perhaps the woman is not completely without skill?”
    “Brynn.”
    “What?”
    “Her name is Brynn. You never refer to her by name, just ‘the woman.’ ”
    “What difference does it make?”
    “Her name is Brynn,” Malik repeated. “And it makes a difference.”
    “By heaven, I believe you’re besotted with the