Dragon's Daughter

The man replied, with obvious surprise, “There was some bleeding, but not an untoward amount.”

Rowena answered with forced calm. “Please, look after the babe. I must see to his mother.”

Obviously Christian had now seen what she had, for he murmured in a tone of horror, “Dear heaven, is she…”

Rowena was already bending down to listen to her heart. “She is alive.” Her own relief was great, but the amount of blood the young woman had lost told her that she must act quickly or it would not be true for long.

With haste born of desperation, Rowena examined the young woman. Then she turned to the knight. “Did you remove anything?”

He stood there holding the infant, his face now dark with anxiety. “Nay, nothing. You came just as the babe…”

She nodded, then quickly scanned the bed once more. Although she had never encountered this complication, she had learned from a midwife in a nearby village that the afterbirth could cause hemorrhage and death if it failed to be expelled.

Rowena took one deep breath and was immediately encompassed by a feeling of intense focus and calm. It was a feeling that often came over her when a situation was most desperate. She did not know from whence this gift originated, but it had enabled her to do what she must time upon time.

The fact that it had not come in relation to tending Christian Greatham had troubled her greatly. Its return now when she needed peace most was all she required to face the task at hand with self-possession.

The young mother was so weak that Rowena could only rouse her with a tone of command. But Rowena did command, telling her that she must find the strength to help herself lest her child be orphaned, and the girl did manage to expel the afterbirth.

Only then did the bleeding ease. Rowena could take little relief in this, though she hurried to prepare a mixture that would help her patient rest as well as strengthen her.

The girl had lost so much blood.

Rowena was aware of the knight as he moved about the cottage, and wondered how he was faring with the babe. She was certain caring for a newborn child was not an accustomed task for him. But he left her to work over the mother, for which she was grateful.

It was not until she had changed the linens, given the young woman a potion to restore her blood, and watched her fall into an exhausted sleep that Rowena took a breath of relief. Slowly, on suddenly trembling limbs, she went to the bench next to the table and sank down upon it.

It was with a start that she felt a large warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up into Christian Greatham’s concerned blue eyes. “I have put the babe in a basket near the fire.” He paused, shaking his head. “That was the most amazing feat I have ever seen. You saved her life.” The gentleness in his tone far overrode Rowena’s awe that he would speak thus to her. It made her long for…what?

She spoke with deliberate restraint. “’Twas no great deed. It is what I have learned to do.”

He frowned. “Nonetheless, Nina is alive because of you. I had no idea that she was not…All seemed to go well….”

Rowena shrugged, but avoided meeting his gaze as she recalled her own fearfulness on first realizing what had gone wrong. The thought of the young mother lying there in all that blood, and what the outcome might have been had the midwife not told Rowena about what could happen with the afterbirth, was overwhelming.

Despite her trembling, she said, “How did she come to be here?”

He shrugged. “I looked up and there she was. She said that a man on the road had sent her here. The folk in her village would not help her because the babe’s father is wed to another.”

“A bastard.” The words were a mere whisper of breath on Rowena’s lips.

Christian obviously heard them, for he spoke with disbelief. “Would you hold the babe’s lack of legitimacy against him?”

She answered roughly, “Never!” She felt a new wave of shaking wash over her.

He seemed startled by her vehemence for a moment, but his voice was filled with concern as he said, “You are trembling.”

She shook her head. “I am—”

Before she could finish, she was being pulled up and into the warm, encompassing strength of his arms. Her face came to rest on the soft woolen fabric over his heart, and she felt the steady and even beat of it beneath her cheek.

Rowena grew very, very still. She did not know what to do, how to behave. For never, in all her wildest secret imaginings, had she thought that something like this would occur.

Yet in spite of her amazement she became aware of a feeling of yearning so intense that it further weakened her limbs and caused her to lean even more fully against this strange but fascinating man. He reacted by holding her even more tightly, stroking a gentle hand over her hair.

For a moment, Rowena closed her eyes. She had one memory only of ever being held this way—by her father, she believed, though she could not be sure. What she was certain of was that the feelings inside her in that memory were nothing akin to the odd but compelling ones that rose up inside her now. Feelings that made her heartbeat quicken and her body become aware in a way it never had been.

Only when he spoke, his voice a deep rumble beneath her ear, did she stir. “You are so very young. There must be someone else who could—”

The words brought Rowena back to the realization of what she was doing here, and to the fact that she could not allow this man to hold her this way. When she stepped back, he released her, and she met those blue eyes with heat as she said, “I do as I wish to do. I have been taken in, loved and accepted by those around me. I want to serve and care for them. Nothing means as much to me.”

He reacted with surprise. “I did not mean to criticize. I but thought—”

“You know nothing of what you speak. You come from a different world. Here in Ashcroft, to care for the folk you love and respect is all important. These folk are my family.”

She looked at him when he frowned in seeming consternation. “What of you, Christian Greatham? You have said nothing of your purpose in coming all this way to find your Rosalind.”

He stiffened, his gaze searching hers for a long moment, before he said, “Fair enough. I have seen that you truly care for others. If you give your word to keep what I say to yourself, I will tell you what I can of her.”

Even more puzzled than she had been, Rowena nodded. “You have my word.”

He took a slow, deep breath. “Firstly, let me say that she is not my Rosalind.”

She could not prevent herself from asking, “You mean you are not in love with her?”

He shook his head. “Oh, nay, not in love. I do not even know the woman.” He seemed to study her more intently then, even as she felt an inexplicable sense of relief.

Rowena collected herself instantly, saying, “Then why are you searching for her?”

Christian spoke slowly and deliberately. “Finding her may be the single most important thing I do in my life.”

She shook her head. “You speak without saying anything.”

He looked away, laughing wryly. “Aye, I do.” When he turned back to her there was resignation in his gaze. “It is simply that I endanger her life and her hopes for a future by speaking of her to the wrong person. She has been hidden away for her own protection, and may in fact not even be aware of her true identity.”

Rowena threw up her hands in exasperation. “Still I understand naught of what you say.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps I should begin at the beginning, with what I do know.” He paused, and she remained silent, realizing that he was quite serious about this. “Fifteen years ago I was fostered into the home of a great nobleman, the earl of Kelsey. He was known to those who loved and admired him as The Dragon. He was a man of exceptional character and taught me much of what I know of being a man when my father was too lost in his grief over my mother’s death to heed my own feelings of loss.”

“The Dragon,” she murmured, not realizing that she had said the words aloud until he stopped to watch her. She smoothed her hair back from her brow with a weary hand. “You spoke of dragons and dead babes when you were ill, and I thought you were…”

“Aye.” He nodded. “I can see why such rambling might mark me as mad, but I assure you I am not. You see, The Dragon was betrayed and murdered by his brother, who made it appear as if he had betrayed King Richard by plotting with his enemies. We—my two foster brothers, Simon Warleigh and Jarrod Maxwell, and I—were forced to give testimony that he had indeed met with these men, though we believed the meeting quite innocent, as he had declared.”

“How can you be so certain that your foster father spoke the truth?” Rowena asked.

Christian seemed to hold himself more erect, as if the mere memory of this man was ennobling. “Did you know of him, you would never ask that question. He held truth and honor above all else, and instructed for Simon, Jarrod and I to do the same, no matter what the outcome, though it helped to secure his downfall.”

Rowena felt that such blind faith might be foolish. Yet what Christian chose to believe was his own folly, so she said nothing for a long moment.

But she could not remain silent. Perhaps because, in spite of what her mother had said about her father and her own anger toward him, Rowena was desperate to know something of his world, of him. “What has any of that to do with this Rosalind you search for?”

Christian rubbed a weary hand across his brow. “Rosalind was—is—the daughter of my former foster father. It was believed that she was killed in the battle for Dragonwick Castle. I myself saw the body, though it was covered at the time. We were told by Kelsey’s men that she had fallen from the upper stair whilst trying to get to her father as he fought below.”

“Then why do you search for her?”

“Because it has come to my attention that she may not have died that day. That she was hidden away by the nursemaid in order to protect her.” His gaze now met Rowena’s with a strange intensity.

She frowned. “You imagine she was brought here to Ashcroft?”

He did not break the force of that gaze. “That is what I was told only weeks ago by a dying man.”

“But who was he and how would he know this?”

“He said that it was he who helped the child and the nursemaid to escape the castle. It was the nurse’s red-haired child who Jack saw Kelsey push down the castle steps that day. Though the nurse was grieving her own babe’s death, she was determined to save the little one who had also nursed at her breast. She begged his aid, as they had been lovers. Jack loved The Dragon as loyally as did I and my friends, and abhorred the fact that the earl’s own half brother had wronged him so vilely. Jack felt that parting from his lover was not too high a price to pay in order to see the child safe. They never saw one another again, and it was only because he was dying that he told me what had happened. He knew someone had to know of Rosalind’s existence if there was ever to be any hope of her returning to Dragonwick. Naturally, I had to come and discover if he had spoken true, and then to help her gain her rightful place if he had.”

For some reason Rowena felt an agitation she could not explain. She rose and began to clear the table. “So you took him at his word, coming all this way with no more than that to go by. It could have been nothing more than a delusion brought on by wishful thinking. You said that this Jack felt as you did, that The Dragon had been wronged by his half brother. Perhaps in his illness he fabricated this notion in order to avenge his master before he died.”

Christian stiffened, drawing himself up. “Aye, to a point, though I have told no one else of my quest. And not only because I gave my word to remain silent on the matter until I knew that she would not be placed in danger by my revealing the information. I…did not wish to give false hope to Simon or Jarrod. We have long waited for the day when we might see Kelsey brought low for all he has done.”

Her brows rose. “So this quest you are on is a matter of vengeance. You have no thought for the woman herself.”

He scowled. “Of course I want what is best for Rosalind. She deserves to have what is rightfully hers.”

“Even if she does not wish to become involved in this vendetta? She may very well be happy wherever she is, especially if, as you suspect, she does not know.”

He shook his head. “She must be made to see that she owes it to—”

Rowena interrupted him. “She owes nothing. Why would anyone choose a life fraught with treachery and murder, to be placed in danger that is not of her making? It matters not, at any rate, for you have not found her. Whatever caused your dead friend to imagine that she might be in Ashcroft, he was mistaken. That is misfortune for her, for she would have found a good home here amongst the folk of Ashcroft. She could not have been expected to exchange her life for lands and titles.”

He frowned, but his reply was not what Rowena expected; he changed the subject so abruptly that she felt disoriented for a moment. “I see that you love the people here as a family. But what of your real family, Rowena? Surely there is someone out there, even if both of your parents are dead. What of them?”

This unexpected question brought overwhelming feelings of shame and loneliness. Suddenly she could not hold the secret inside her. “What of them, Sir Christian? I do not know. You see, my father was a knight, my mother a servant in his household. He never wed her, and his family did not want me after his death.”

Christian became very still. “Your father was not wed to your mother? Who told you this?”

“My mother. Who would know better than she?”

He raked that thick dark hair straight back from his brow. “But that is not possible—”

She stiffened. “I assure you it is possible.” She turned her back on him. “I cannot stand about discussing matters you do not understand. I must fetch Hagar before Nina awakens. I will need her help.” She hurried to the door.

He went after her, grabbing her wrist in a tight grip, desperate to get her to listen. “Rowena, please, I must speak with you—”

She winced, jerking away from him.

Christian held up his hands in supplication. “Forgive me, I had no intention of harming you. I but wanted to…”

Rowena did not linger to hear him out. She could not reveal the pain she felt at seeing him so shocked by her revelation. As she ran down the path, she asked herself why she should even care for the opinion of a knight about whom she knew so little.

She was but a moment’s delay in Christian Greatham’s life. Even if being held in his arms had made her feel truly safe for the first time in her memory.

Once he was fully recovered he would be on his way, possibly to continue his search for the young woman he hoped to use to avenge his former foster father. Whatever he chose to do, it did not involve her.

Chapter Four

In deference to the new mother and her child, Christian spent that night in the small shed beside Rowena’s cottage. There had seemed to be a decided relief in her face when he suggested it.

He retired before Hagar—whom Rowena had brought back to the cottage with all haste—left for the night. Though the older woman had not pointedly ignored his presence, as Rowena had seemed to, she was too occupied with helping to look after mother and child for more than the briefest of exchanges with him. Yet during that conversation Hagar did make known to him her amazement and gratitude over his helping Nina.

Unaccountably, Christian found himself wishing Rowena would look upon him with such approval. He told himself it would make his task far easier if she did not display such unfathomable antagonism in the face of his efforts to discover more about her!

In spite of his whirling thoughts, the bed of hay he fashioned beneath the heavy furs was comfortable, and he slept late.

Yet as soon as he awoke it all came rushing back. He could not believe that none of what he had told Rowena had seemed to strike even the remotest note of familiarity with her. Could he be wrong in his belief that she was the one?

Christian did not think so. Her appearing here at the precise time that Jack had said Rosalind and the nurse had gone to Ashcroft was too much of a coincidence. He was especially certain because of Rowena’s lack of knowledge about her past, other than having been told about being the bastard child of an English knight. The story should not have surprised him so, for of course she had to be told something about her past. It would have prevented her questioning too deeply.

Yet he thought again of how she had listened to all he had said without so much as blinking. It was, in fact, quite odd that she had not even considered it possible that she might be the one.

Could it be because she did not wish it?

Christian threw back the furs in frustration. Going into the cottage, he bade Rowena and Nina, “Good morrow.”

Rowena barely glanced in his direction, seeming as agitated as the previous evening.

He was distracted from his contemplation of the stiff line of her slender back by Nina, who replied, “Good morrow, good sir.” The young mother, who lay against the pillows in bed, glanced down at the child sleeping against her breast. She then looked up at Christian with a smile beaming with gratitude, though her cheeks were still quite pale. “I have no words to thank you for all you have—”

Christian held up a hand, forestalling her. “Your thanks are well met, though in all honesty ’twas nature and Rowena who accomplished the important tasks.” He reached out his arms. “May I?”

Nina lifted the sleeping infant toward him.

He looked down into the tiny face, which seemed to have become so much more defined even over the course of a night. His heart swelled with gratitude that all had indeed gone well for this tiny being.

“Nonsense, you are to be commended for doing what you did. Many would have gone for help before even trying.” Though Rowena’s words were spoken stiffly, their content was approving.

While he could not deny a certain amount of pride as well as pleasure at her compliment, Christian gave a rueful laugh. “Had I felt that there was any choice, I would have done so. And quite gladly.”

She looked from him to the child, those green eyes unreadable as they held his for a long moment before she turned away. He watched Rowena bustle about the cottage, the weight of the babe in his arms awakening a strange sort of yearning he could not explain.

A noise from without heralded Sean’s arrival only minutes later. Through the open door Christian saw that he was riding in a small cart pulled by a donkey.

When Rowena swung around, saying, “Thank you for coming so quickly, my friend,” Christian realized that she must have asked him to come while he himself was still sleeping.

The young man frowned as he entered the cottage, watching Christian as if he were a leper.

Immediately Rowena said, “I am nearly finished readying Nina and the child for the journey.”

“What is this you say?” Christian questioned.

Rowena barely glanced at him as she said, “Nina insists on going home, where she can be near the babe’s father. Sean has agreed to take her in his cart. They must go before the tide rises, for it will block the way to her village.” She moved to hold out her arms for the infant, as if that action would prevent any argument.

It did not. Relinquishing the babe reluctantly, Christian scowled. “But she is too weak—”

It was Nina who interrupted. “They only do as I have asked. I want—need to be with my child’s father. Surely now he will see that he must be with me.” Her gaze was distant and determined.

Christian realized that she would not be swayed. He also saw the worry on Rowena’s face. It was clear she would have insisted Nina stay longer if she thought there was any hope of her complying.

Seeming unaware of Christian at the moment, Rowena looked toward Sean. “You will see her safely to her home? Make certain the child’s father is willing to care for them before you leave her?”

Sean bowed, his eyes lighting up when she smiled at him with gratitude. “Anything you ask of me, Rowena.”

The response seemed overeager, to Christian’s ears. Rowena always referred to the young man as a friend, but that did not mean he felt the same. Christian told himself that the tightening in his belly was due to the fact that a budding romance would only complicate his task. Now it was he who watched Sean carefully as the young man went about helping Rowena to prepare her charges for their journey.

The two friends spoke easily, as those of long acquaintance were wont to do. Their interaction gave nothing more away.

There was a lull as Sean awaited his next instructions from Rowena, who was dressing the child in tiny woolen garments. With a tense expression, he approached Christian, who was studying them from the bench against the wall, having taken the position when his own offer of aid was declined.

With determination, the dark-haired young man asked, “When were ye thinking to leave Ashcroft?”

Christian shrugged and replied to this unexpected question as casually as he could, considering the regret he felt at the idea. “Soon enough.” He knew that he must indeed go ere much more time passed, if he was not able to gain any ground here.

Sean frowned. “Mither says ye are looking for someone. A woman named Rosalind.”

Christian said, “I am.”

“Ye have been told that she isna hereabouts.”

He resisted casting a glance at Rowena. “Aye, I have been told. I cannot remain much longer. I have been away too long as it is, for I did tell my sister, Aislynn, that I would be home weeks ago. She and my father are…” He halted, not wanting to speak of his relationship with his family, nor wishing to reveal the guilt that rose at every thought of them.

In the silence that followed, Christian looked up and saw that Rowena had paused in the act of setting the swaddled babe into his mother’s waiting arms. Their eyes met.

She watched him with an intensity that both shocked and inexplicably drew him as she said, “You are leaving soon?”

“Aye.” The word hung in the air between them. Was she, somehow, in some part of herself that she was not yet willing to acknowledge, beginning to understand that his presence here was of great import to her?

Time seemed to lengthen and stretch in an immeasurable way, until finally she turned away. He could read nothing in her tone as she said, “’Tis best to wait a bit longer after your recent illness. Just to make certain that you are fully recovered.”

Christian was left with no opportunity to consider her words. For when she moved toward the table and began to place small pouches into a larger one with studied concentration, Sean let out a barely audible groan. Christian turned to him, seeing his yearning eyes fixed on Rowena.

As if sensing Christian’s attention, Sean turned to him with resentment. “Why did ye look at her that way?” Angry color rode his cheeks.

He was indeed in love with Rowena.

Christian did not know what to say, for the other man obviously saw him as a rival. This was as far from the actual situation as possible.

Yet Christian had no intention of revealing his true interest in Rowena.

Sean spoke again before Christian could even think of forming a reply. “I will pray that yer family is not long awaiting yer return, English knight. Their peace will be mine.”

Christian felt a momentary flash of guilt that when he left he might be taking away what Sean held most dear. He quickly brushed it aside. He felt sympathy for the young man, but could not allow that to make him hesitate in taking Rowena with him if she would come. If she was Rosalind, her place was at Dragonwick.

“Sean?” It was Rowena’s voice.

He swung about without another word, and moved to her side.