Medieval 03 - Enchanted

us here?” Simon
asked.
    “So be it. Baron Deguerre’s daughter is
more important than having one more knight at Blackthorne, even a
knight such as you. Unless…”
    Dominic’s voice died as he turned to look at
his wife.
    “Unless you dream of greater danger, small
falcon. Then I will reconsider Simon’s value to Blackthorne
Keep.”

15
    C ool water soothed Ariane’s dry
lips and poured gently over her parched tongue. She swallowed
eagerly. When no more liquid came to her mouth, she tried to lift
herself toward the source of the water.
    Liquid overflowed Ariane’s lips and down her
chin to her neck. Something warm and velvety ran over her skin,
following the trail of the water.
    “Gently, nightingale.”
    With the words came a warm exhalation in the hollow
of Ariane’s throat. Where drops of water had collected, the
soft velvet brushed again, taking away the liquid.
    Thirst combined with a need to be closer to the
gentle voice made her whimper and strain toward the words.
    “There is no need to fear. Neither the water
nor I will leave you.”
    A hand stroked Ariane from crown to nape with slow,
tender motions, reassuring her. Sighing raggedly, she turned toward
the source of comfort. Her lips skimmed across something both hard
and warm, slightly rough and wonderfully reassuring at the same
time. At a distance she realized it was a hand.
    A man’s hand.
    Ariane tried to stiffen and pull away, but her body
simply refused to obey the alarms of her awakening mind.
    “Softly, nightingale. Your wound is still
healing. Lie still. You are safe.”
    Ariane sighed and turned her face once more into
thelarge male hand that was being used not to
hurt her, but rather to soothe her fears.
    “Open your lips,” Simon whispered.

“’Tis water you need, and then gruel, and then tiny
bits of minced meat and honey, and—”
    With an effort, Simon stopped the rushing words. He
wanted Ariane to be well with an urgency that grew greater with
each hour. The nine days he had spent caring for her had been the
longest of his life.
    ’ Tis savage enough that
Dominic suffered torment because of my lust for Marie. But at least
Dominic was a knight fully trained for pain and blood .
    ’ Tis unbearable that my
melancholy nightingale lies wounded and in pain because of
me .
    “Why didn’t you flee when I gave you
the chance?” Simon whispered.
    No answer came from Ariane’s pale lips except
a kiss breathed into the center of his palm.
    Awake, she fears
me .
    Asleep, she kisses
me .
    Simon closed his eyes as the simple caress sank to
the marrow of his bones and then deeper still, spreading through
his soul like quicksilver ripples through black water.
    After a time Simon sipped from a cup, bent down to
Ariane, and once again allowed a few drops to pass from his lips to
hers. It was a method of giving liquid medicine that he had first
seen used by Meg on Dominic. Meg’s patient, persistent
attempts to get water within Dominic had saved his life.
    It was working on Ariane, too. Though she
wasn’t truly awake, her body knew what it needed. Her mouth
opened. Her tongue came out to lick up the wonderful moisture that
had appeared on her lips. A few more drops flowed over her tongue
in reward. She swallowed and lifted herself greedily, wanting
more.
    This time Simon was prepared. Nothing spilled from
Ariane’s lips to her throat. He caught his wife’s mouthbeneath his own and trickled water over her
tongue. She drank from him thirstily again and again, until the cup
of medicine was empty. Then she sighed and relaxed once more.
    But like the amethyst cloth swirling around
Ariane’s body, she clung to the warmth and vitality that was
Simon.
    He looked at the pale fingers woven through his own
much stronger fingers and felt an odd tightness in his throat.
Tenderly he lifted their entwined hands, kissed Ariane’s cool
skin, and resumed stroking her hair with his free hand.
    Gradually Simon became aware that someone had come
into the room and was standing patiently behind him. The fragrance
of incense cedar told him that it was Cassandra who had come so
quietly into Ariane’s room.
    It wasn’t the first time that the Learned
healer had come to stand vigil near her patient. While Cassandra
had been adamant that it must be Simon who nursed Ariane, an hour
rarely passed during the day when Cassandra didn’t look
in.
    “The balm I brought three days ago,”

the Learned woman said, “have you used