Set to Flame (Flame Series) (10 page)

“Sleep Alena,” he whispered gently in her ear.  “You must rest to gain your strength.”  She didn’t need strength, she didn’t need to recover, she wanted to die, but with Marcus’s arm around her she could not remember why.  So she slept a most peaceful of sleeps.

She could tell dawn was just breaking the night when she awoke again.  A servant stood over her, and Lenora was applying a balm to her arm. 

“Good morning.  It is good to see you awake,” the woman replied with a genuine smile.  “Don’t talk,” she said seeing Alena’s attempt to do so.  “I think you will be fine within a few days, we just don’t want to cause any damage before you’ve had a chance to recover fully.  You gave everyone quite the scare.”

Alena
looked at her and feeling as if she had entered a parallel universe she watched Lenora’s bowed head.  “This will make your arm heal more quickly,” she said before raising her eyes to look at Alena.  She studied her face for a moment before beginning to apply it to her face.  “This is going to hurt,” she said before her fingers created the fire in her head again when she pulled her eyelids open slightly to examine the eye beneath. 

“It looks as if it will heal well.  I don’t know how much vision you will have, but I think it is saved.  It looks to be clearing.”

Finally, Lenora finished with her work and left the room.  Alena was left alone, and she found herself drifting off to sleep.  It wasn’t long before Marcus entered the chamber.  She watched him come closer, his body was tall and powerful, his soft brown eyes locked with hers.  Truly she had never known anyone with eyes as gentle as this man’s.   His face also held kindness and suddenly she didn’t want him there, but he only came closer.  She wanted to scream for him to go away.  He came to the edge of the bed and stopped, looking down at her. 

“Garrick has left,” he said as he took a seat beside her.

She stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but he seemed reluctant to do so.  Finally, drawing in a breath he looked at her, and she wished she did not see the sympathy on his face. She had seen so much of it on everyone’s faces that came near her, it made her sick especially on this man’s. 

“The night of your injury he brought you out of the room and gave you to me.  He left shortly after that.”

He looked at her, and she wanted to scream at him that he did not own her.  Besides, what could Marcus offer her?  She didn’t want to be the gold digger that was always on the prowl for a man with riches, but she had nothing.  She had no skills.  Though her mother taught her a number of things through the years, her sewing skills had a great deal to be desired but were much better than her baking skills.  She knew nothing about caring for children, keeping a garden.  Even as a lady’s maid she would be severely lacking.  She had mulled over the problem often, even before Garrick had come along, because she knew one day she would make a mad dash for freedom even if it meant her life.  Always was the same problem she couldn’t come up with a solution to, what would she do to feed herself?

“I can offer you protection,” Marcus said as if he read her mind.  “I will always be able to provide a meal for us, even if I must hunt to do it.”

She studied him, her mind in turmoil.  She wanted this man who sat beside her.  She had plenty of time to think about the man and her attraction to him.  But she did not want him like this.  She did not want to be his slave, his whore. 

“Most importantly I will never hurt you.  I will not touch you if you do not want me to.  I will never demand of you more than you’re willing to give.”

He looked at her for a few moments then looked away, seeming to study the design on the rug covering the floor.  How could life with this man possibly be worse than life as a man’s whore?  She may still be able to sell herself to gain property and some wealth.  But what Marcus offered was protection and freedom.  She would be stupid to turn him down, to make the decision to be the kind of woman Sheik Ghalib had made her.

Reaching a hand out
she touched Marcus’s elbow, drawing his attention back to her.  She nodded her head, and she watched a smile cross his lips that took her breath away and made her feel silly for even having to debate the decision.  She trusted this man, and though she was uncertain in what way she had just bound herself to him, she was glad.  She closed her eyes and slept.

Chapter 5

Marcus felt he was growing soft amid all the women and months of idleness as those injured recovered.  Lenora ran a spotless keep, though pleasant, it felt as if a servant always followed picking up after him.  He feared to sit his goblet of wine down upon the table lest it be cleaned away before he could empty it.  He watched them efficiently clear the trestle tables and begin cleaning the floor, a morning ritual when everyone was banned from the hall for an hour afterward.  It left the hall smelling pleasant and did not require rushes to be strewn about to freshen the air in the keep.  However, that meant in a day filled with nothing he still had to scramble to the morning meal and away before it was whisked from beneath him.

He felt as if he bordered on a foul mood so he exited the hall, went straight to the stairs and on to Alena’s chamber.  For the two injured members of the household time was on their side.  Cyrille was able to leave his bed and move about his chamber, though no one below ever saw him.  For Alena that meant she got her eyesight back in her injured eye.  That side of her face would be forever marred but it was not as bad as Marcus had first thought it might be.  The hair had begun to grow back and the scar became an inconsequential attribute when he looked at her.  He was surprised to find her chamber empty, to his knowledge it would be her first visit out of her room since first being placed there.  He turned to leave and nearly collided with a servant entering with a load of linens. 

“Where has
Alena gone?” he asked, feeling his irritation rising at her not so surprising appearance.

“She has gone to Mistress Lenora to seek clothing.”

Marcus suddenly felt like a complete fool.  Hadn’t he been there when her only clothes had been ruined?  What kind of fool just let his woman, an injured one at that, go about without clothing.  He hurried toward Lenora’s chamber and burst through the door into the woman’s antechamber.  He first saw a servant, her expression alarmed him.  She looked near to tears and stood ringing her hands nervously.  He followed her gaze to Alena, standing before a mirror and his heart dropped to the floor.  The scarred side of her face was turned away so all he saw was the stricken look as the tears streamed from her beautiful eyes.  He moved quickly to her.

“Why did you not tell me,” she whispered not taking her eyes from her own face.

“Tell you what?” he asked with sincerity.  She had to have known she would take some scars away from the incident, it did not seem as if he needed to give her details.

“I’m hideous.”

“You are far from hideous,” he said placing his hands on her shoulders and bringing his face down next to hers. 

Her eyes left her own reflection to meet his.  “I see why Garrick fled.”

“He fled from himself, not from you.”

“But he stuck you with me,” she said, her voice reflected her regret that she would be a burden to him.

“If I had anything to have offered you that would compare to Garrick I would have matched him, whatever price he asked.  I have offered you your freedom, but you have agreed to stay with me for which I am very happy.”

“But I did not know what I looked like.”

“But I did,” he assured her.

“I cannot hold you to the agreement now,” she said as if to reassure him.

“You cannot go back now,” he said with a little venom in his voice letting her know his anger at her doubt.  She looked startled but slowly nodded her head. 

“She could go to
Cyrille,” Lenora said from behind them.

Marcus spun quickly taking
Alena with him to face the young woman.  “After all she should be able to empathize with my brother better than anyone.  You know his appetites,” she finished.

“
Alena is under my protection now,” Marcus assured her.

Lenora looked baffled.  “But I thought she was a whore.”

Alena opened her mouth to speak, but Marcus beat her to it.  “She came under Garrick’s protection.  She has known the touch of only one man in this life, and he is long gone from it.  Does that make her a whore?”

“Was this man her husband?” Lenora asked.

“Before you judge think of what life would be for you without your brothers and the strength of their arms providing a roof over your head.”  Marcus felt no remorse when he watched the woman’s scowl, and uncertainty cross her face at his words.  Within a moment he watched her eyes flick to Alena then back to Marcus then to Alena once again.

“You truly have no one?” Lenora asked her.

Marcus saw Alena about to shake her head and knew he had to stop her, for now she did have someone and she needed to remember that at all times.  “She has me,” he ground out.

“But I fear that is improper.  She is not your sister, nor a wife,” she argued.

“I am who she has,” Marcus insisted.  Men never acted this way, they knew their places and didn’t question them.  It did not please him Lenora was clearly bent on challenging Alena’s place with him.  That she was his commander’s sister only complicated matters, and he felt it best to keep things amicable.

“I will care for her.  She can be a part of my household.  What can you…
”

“No,” Marcus said with scorn directed at Lenora.  “She is mine.  I suggest you leave our arrangement alone, or we will leave here, and you will have Garrick to answer to when he returns.”

He watched her pale considerably, swallowing as she took stock of her argument and wisely decided to dismiss them.  “What brings you here?”

“I wish to have some clothing made for her,” Marcus quickly said.  “I would pay handsomely for a dress she could wear by the end of the day.” 

“We have the best seamstresses,” Lenora said spreading her arms and doing a little turn to present the gown she wore.  He had to admit each time he had been around the sister she had always worn rich and well made garments.

“Then we should be going immediately,”
Alena said stepping forward.  Marcus smiled at her then to Lenora he said, “I will attend to her and help with her choices.”

Lenora began to speak but apparently thought better of it for she closed her mouth again.

~   ~   ~

Alena watched the servants carry the large trunk into her chamber.  She had one dress she had chosen from a pattern that had been near completion on her first visit to the seamstress.  Marcus had been unsure what to have made for her, and she had never had a chance to request her own garments made.  Everything she had ever worn since leaving her mother’s guidance was at the sheik’s order.  She felt overwhelmed by the extravagant amount of material Lenora had to offer, not to mention the many items she had to add detail, as well as the seamstresses own various talents.  She saw it on Marcus’s face too, and they had not been able to make it out of the storage room fast enough.  Now she wondered why her one dress needed such a large trunk.

The servants sat the trunk down all the while casting weary glances toward
Alena’s face.  Though Alena tried to keep the scarred side hidden, they beat a hasty retreat.  Within a few moments the seamstress arrived with a beautiful creation she spread proudly upon the bed.  Alena was in awe of the green surcoat and snow white kirtle.  The surcoat was made of silk, and the emerald color of it danced in the candlelight.  She was surprised to find that Marcus had returned to the seamstress with Lenora and together they had chosen the garment for her.  She thanked the woman before the seamstress hurried from the room on an errand for Lenora. 

Alena
sank onto the bed, eyeing the dress and occasionally running her fingers over the fine material in undisguised admiration for the craftsmanship.  Her eyes strayed to the trunk.  Was Marcus ambitious enough to think he could fill the trunk with such fine garments?  She knew silk was a costly material, that’s why the sheik’s women prized it so much.  What did Marcus require for such an expenditure?  How could he afford such an exquisite piece of cloth that went into the making?  She called herself an idiot for believing Marcus could be the kind of man he claimed to be.  They all wanted the same thing, she knew that.  They just went about it differently. 

The tapestry slid to the side to admit Marcus and
Alena rose and stared at him, and for the first time since being in his presence, she felt trapped.

“That’s a lovely gown,”
Alena said schooling her features.

Marcus smiled, “I had Lenora help me with the choices.  She said the color would look stunning on you.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she asked as Marcus walked toward her. 

His step faltered as well as his smile.  “I do not.”

“You could just say you wanted to buy my services, and we can come up with a price.  As I said, I have no other options.  A pretty dress every now and then will serve, as long as you provide me food and safety, as well.  It is what you wanted me to believe, just with that one little twist.”

“Actually I ask nothing in return for this dress or those that are in the trunk.”

She darted a glance to the closed trunk then back to Marcus.  “I bought you a number of dresses and all the garments and slippers you might need to go with them.  It has been a tedious business these last few days, but since I have your care, I think it would reflect badly upon me if I allowed you to go about in rags, or even nothing at all.”

Turning she stared at the trunk then back to Marcus.  She had to admit she was speechless and did not like that she could not find an ulterior
motive, it left her more vulnerable than she’d ever been.  The man advanced on her, and she resolved to stand her ground.  He reached a hand to the good side of her face and laid his palm gently against her cheek.  She fought the urge to pull away and he studied her with those gentle eyes, with his face still full of warmth, a slight smile turning up the edge of his lips.  Full lips, they weren’t small and weak like the sheik’s, not cold and unyielding as Garrick’s.  They looked as warm and inviting as everything else about this man.

“You don’t know me so there is no reason to trust me.  You would be foolish if you did.  I hope when you see I seek no payment for the things I do for you then you can begin to trust me.  I don’t expect it now or even tomorrow.”  His thumb had begun gently caressing the skin near her mouth and the sensations it created made it difficult to concentrate on his words.

He allowed his hand to fall to her shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze before he allowed it to drop away.   Turning he left the chamber leaving Alena staring after him.

~  
~   ~

“No damn light!” Alena heard Cyrille scream from the chamber next to hers.  It wasn’t so much a scream as a horrible grating sound as if the man had been screaming for hours from a throat gone raw.  “Close them!”

“You can’t keep sitting around in the dark by yourself!”
came Lenora’s raised voice.

“I’m a monster,” the voice was full of rage at his circumstance.

“You are my brother, and I will not have you act this way!”

“Get out!”
Alena could barely make out the dwindling yell.

“
Cyrille,” the man’s name ended in a squawk as something heavy landed against the wall.

If
Alena had not heard the footsteps coming down the corridor, she would have feared for the woman.  She couldn’t imagine what the man who existed next to her chamber was going through.  She heard tidbits of his condition from the staff, a leg that would never heal properly and scars which made his handsome face difficult to look upon.  He screamed at the people who entered his room to the point that Lenora was the only one who risked the violence with which he slung things at the walls to scare them away.

Alena
had once ordered Marcus to kill her.  She had not wished to live with her beauty gone for she could not fathom a life at that time without it.  Now she looked back and was thankful he had not listened.  Beauty was in the eye of the beholder and each time Marcus looked at her, she knew he still saw her, not the scars.  Along with Marcus’s care came a fool proof way to keep a man from gaping at her.  All she had to do was let him see the ruined part of her face.  She would have jumped into  flames years ago if she had known the outcome.  Without Marcus, dealing with her scars would be considerably harder, if not impossible.  Cyrille’s injuries would likely keep him from being a knight again, as hers would keep her from being coveted by men.  Perhaps Cyrille needed help getting back on track from someone other than his sister, someone who by relationship did not have to look upon him without horror.  Someone who could show him there was something else out there.  She did not know what that was, but there had to be.  His brother and his men did not sacrifice so much for Cyrille to fade away inside his dark chamber.

She went to the sconce on the little table by the entrance to her room and lit the candle.  Taking it in hand, she went next door, ducking in behind the tapestry, the light in her hand cast the darkness around her away but plunged the corners of the room into deep shadows.  She detected a movement to her right, but she stood her ground and gave him a chance to hide.

“Leave me,” his voice grated out and by the sound of it, she detected that he was just turning to her.  “What?” he asked irritably when she made no move to leave.