Free The Warrior and the Dove - A Short Novel (Medieval Chronicles) by Julia Byrne

chills that brushed her flesh. Here, in his embrace, she felt
safe, no matter what nightmare was to come.
    “You’ll still
take me with you?” she asked.
    “Aye, but you
can’t ride around the countryside with me for days on end if we’re not
married.”
    She shook her
head against him. “If only I could be sure.”
    “Of what?”
    “That you are not
doing this only for me. That if I marry you, you will not one day regret it.”
    He drew back
abruptly and tipped her face up to his. “Is that what you think?”
    He stared at her
for an instant before his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Annith wondered what was
going on behind that shrewd gaze. With the perversity of such things, her mind was now clear. If Hugh wanted her, she would marry him. It no longer
mattered that she might already be betrothed. She could never give herself to
another man anyway. The cloister would be preferable.
    She recalled the
words she had uttered earlier, that she would don a nun’s robe if she was
already married. Such unthinking words, such unawareness of the feelings behind
them. And yet, somehow she had known, had already acknowledged the
secret she held deep in her heart. She didn’t need to know who she was,
she realized now. She knew what she was: a girl on the cusp of
womanhood, waiting to give herself to the man she loved.
    “I’m a fool,” he
said, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Will it convince you if I say I’ve been
thinking of marriage for several months? I’m the last of my line and wish it to
continue. Also, my home has not had a mistress for nigh on twenty years and is
in dire need of one.”
    He raised his
hand and gently brushed the last traces of tears from her cheeks. “Will you be
that mistress, Annith?”
    “I will,” she
whispered. And with her acceptance, a sense of calm came over her. At least she
could be useful to him, instead of taking his protection and giving nothing
back. And she would love him all the days of her life and beyond.
    He let out a
long breath, as if he’d been engaged in a conflict that was finally ended. “I
swear I’ve taken better defended keeps in less time,” he muttered, and though
there was wry humor in the words, something powerful glittered in his eyes. In
the light from the kitchen doorway she could see it clearly. Triumph, resolve,
and something…something barely controlled.
    Before she could
wonder at the expression, he bent and lifted her into his arms as if she was
made of fragile crystal and carried her into the house.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
    They were
married before the morning sun had gathered up the last tendrils of mist
drifting above the fields. A perfect day for a wedding, Hugh thought, except
that no sunlight penetrated the cold stone walls of the little chapel within
the bailey.
    He stifled a
pang of guilt as he glanced down at Annith, who stood beside him at the altar
rail. She should be married in sunlight, but this small bare chapel better
served his purpose. The only witnesses, apart from Father Robert, were Martin
and Herleve. He didn’t want to give anyone searching for Annith forewarning of
their marriage until he knew who and what he was dealing with.
    Explaining that
to Father Robert had not been easy. Initially the priest had been reluctant to
marry them in such haste and secrecy. Only Annith’s assurance that she was a
willing participant had convinced him. But it was debatable now as to who was
more nervous: the bride or the priest.
    As Father Robert
began to recite the marriage vows, Hugh took Annith’s hand in a warm clasp. He
could feel her trembling slightly as he repeated his vows, his voice firm, his
gaze holding hers. Her face appeared pale, framed as it was by the hood of the
cloak he had found for her. Was she still afraid she might be betraying a
previous vow she had made to another man? That would mean a lot to her, but he
couldn’t let her doubts stand in his way. He had no qualms at all; his only
focus at this moment was to gain