She cannot be yours.
His own strong voice warned and he nodded, knowing there was no choice in this matter.
The first drop of rain fell and rolled off his shroud. How he wished to feel the rain against his skin and how he wish to feel Mary’s warmth next to his.
Drop after raindrop pelted his shroud until he finally went directly to Mary. The pallet was thick and deep with brush and tree limbs, a blanket against the rain. He looked down to see her sleeping, curled on her side, her arms pressed firmly to her chest and her legs tucked up near to the end of her elbows.
Michael lay down behind her and pressed himself up against her to let her know of his presence if she should need him. She made no move to respond and Michael made no move away from her.
They lay there quietly, with not a sound or movement except those of the other occupants of the castle, the small forest animals and the birds. Finally when night settled heavy over the land, Mary turned and Michael wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly to him.
And he wondered how he would ever let her go.
Chapter 10
Mary woke the next morning to the smell of roasting fish with wild onions and though the delicious scent tempted, she had little appetite. Her foolishness disturbed her. She was behaving like a young lass in love when she barely knew Michael. How ridiculous of her, or how needy?
Was it love? Or was it the need to be protected? She remembered her father telling her that love would come to her when she least expected it. It would find her, she would not be able to hide from it and she should not worry over it. But then he had been advising a young girl of ten who thought herself wildly in love with a local village boy.
She had not thought herself in love since, her life having been torn apart shortly afterward. With little experience to call on, she was not certain what to make of her feelings.
Perhaps she would just wait on love.
She brushed her hair and tied it in a ribbon before joining Michael at the table.
“I fished early and thought to surprise you with a good meal,” he said.
Was he attempting to appease her for last night?
She nodded and picked sparingly at the fish. She simply had no appetite for food and could not force herself to eat no matter how delicious it tasted.
Michael said not another word until he was finished eating. “I need to make my rounds again to see that the surrounding area has remained free of intruders. It will take me most of the day.”
She nodded and patted her chest, letting him know she would do fine that there was no need for concern, though she would have much preferred to spend time with him than away from him.
With a hint of annoyance he said, “You are brave to a fault.”
Mary stared at him, confused by his statement.
He offered her no explanation, was only adamant in his demand that she remain close by the castle ruins.
She pointed in the direction of the stream, not far away but not noticeable from where they stood either.
He shook his head. “Nay, you will remain here while I am gone.”
She sighed in agitation and with hands flying in all manner of movement, she attempted to tell him that a trip to the stream would not place her in danger.
His laughter is what halted her hand motions, so shocked was she to hear the clear distinct sound and how far from his annoyance only moments before.
“If you talk as much with your mouth as your hands there will be little quiet in these woods.”
She punched him playfully in the arm.
His laughter stopped and he stepped closer to her. “You will need more strength than that to stop a man.”
She shivered suddenly, recalling the strength of the man who had shoved her to the ground and choked her. Her hand went immediately to her throat.
“I did not mean to frighten you, Mary, though I do mean for you to be prepared.”
She made a jabbing motion.
“Do you know how to use a knife?”
She nodded, but knew not how to explain with her hands how the metalsmith in her village had taught her to wield a knife with accuracy. After she had made a pest of herself in wanting to learn about swords and knives, he had finally surrendered and taught her much.
“Until I can be sure you know well how to handle a knife, you will remain near the castle.”
She gave him an exasperated sigh and threw up her hands as though in surrender.
“Good, we agree. I will see you later near the evening meal, which I will have with me when I return.”
She grabbed his arm as he walked passed her. How did she tell him to stay safe and return to her?
He appeared to understand. “I will be fine.”
Her eyes questioned, what if?
“If I do not return—have faith, Mary—remain here. Someone will come for you and say the words you and Magnus agreed upon.”
She nodded and could not help but place her hand to his chest, over his heart, for a brief moment before he left her side.
She thought she felt him tremble but it was too brief to be sure, for he quickly moved away from her. She watched as he disappeared into the woods.
She busied herself with cleaning off the table and then explored areas of the castle she had yet to see. Much of the space was nothing but rubble, though on occasion she came across an exciting find. She found a tattered tapestry beneath stone and charred wood that would serve well as a blanket, Michael’s shroud and the brush was not always sufficient against the chilled night. She was delighted when she found three pewter goblets and four plates. The find of several baskets delighted her. It would make gathering herbs, onions, and roots easier.
She smiled when she found a large brooch minus its jewels. It made her wonder about the lady of the castle. She could not imagine such a life of luxury. She was a peasant, though glad not to have worked in a castle. She had heard stories from those who had serviced a lord; many talked of cruelty and endless days of work.
Nay, she was glad to be free, a peasant but free of the cruelty of an oppressive lord. She continued to search the castle and was enthusiastic over several more finds. When she was done she deposited the items on the table in front of the hearth.
One look at her dirt-covered hands, and the feel of perspiration on her neck and back, and she knew that she needed to wash. But she was not to go to the stream and there was not enough water in the bucket.
She faced a dilemma. She had not actually given Michael her word on not going to the stream, and it was not far from the castle. It was a very warm day for spring and the cool water was enticing.
Should she take the chance or abide by Michael’s dictate?
It would be hours before his return and she would not be long at the stream.
A trickle of sweat ran down her back, resolving her debate. She hurried off to the stream to be done with it.
The cool water felt refreshing against her warm skin and before she realized it, Mary had shed her clothes and hurried into the stream for a quick wash. The strong, rapid flow of the water surprised her, and she lowered herself so that she could rinse her entire body of sweat and grime.
The water moved around swiftly and she sensed it was not wise for her to remain in the cold, forceful stream. She shivered as she made her way back to the water’s edge. Return footing was a bit more treacherous and she slipped now and again.
She attempted to take each step more carefully, though try as she might her footing remained unsound and she fought to keep herself standing. Land finally was a few feet ahead and she sighed with relief when suddenly her foot slipped on a stone and she lost all balance and tumbled head first into the stream.