September 23rd, 1614

It was almost three weeks to the day after Joslin de Lonnare had been brought to Darroch Keep that the ever present danger on the borders came into sharp relief. The familiar whistle of warning crossed the keep in the early morning, confining Juliana and Joslin within the keep itself in the hope that the danger would pass them by. To everyone's consternation, however, it did not; a runner came bursting into the main hall, disheveled and close to panicked.

"M'lady! M'lady, there's a Coimbran captain and guard comin' tae the keep!"

Juliana shot up from where she was sitting, her usually rosy complexion pale. "How many?" she asked in a tense voice.

The runner swallowed before he answered. "Six, includin' the captain," he told her. "McCallum's gone out tae greet 'em, but I cannae say how long he can stall fer."

Nodding, Juliana dismissed him, turning to Joslin. "Time for you to discover one of Darroch's secrets, Jos," she warned him. "Get yourself up, come over to the fireplace."

The whistle early that morning had been shrill enough to wake them from sleep, and sleep had eluded them since. Even if they had stayed in their beds, neither could sleep, both of them knowing their good luck was due to run out any day now. The Coimbrans had no way of knowing that the lady of the keep was hiding a Frankish knight, unless there was a spy in their midst, but it couldn't be helped. Jos was slowly healing and regaining his strength, but he wasn't quite strong enough to return to Arindale on his own just yet. Still, he was far more capable after three weeks in Juliana's care than he would have been on his own.

He could only hope the men would give the place a cursory glance and leave without making trouble. Still using a walking stick to help him get around, Jos climbed to his feet, glancing around quickly to make sure he hadn't left anything in plain sight that would point to his presence, and hobbled over to the fireplace as quickly as he could. "My sword," he told her. If there were going to be Coimbrans about, he wasn't going to be completely defenseless, if he could help it.

"Your sword and armor have been in the hidey hole since you arrived," she assured him, her attention on the fireplace. One hand pushed hard at an intricate piece of carving, and the dark wood paneling beside the fireplace swung inward a little. Juliana pushed that as far as it would go, revealing a cramped space beyond, complete with a stand on which Joslin's armor was laid. It would be a tight fit, but once he was in and sat down, he would be well and truly hidden. "There's a knothole in the wood you'll be able to see and hear through if anything happens," she told him. "Get yourself inside, quickly."

He arched a brow, though there was no time to question her about that hiding hole now. She had spoken of it before, but had never shown it to him until now. "But what about you?" he asked, not wanting to leave her unprotected, even if it meant risking his own life.

"They know I'm here," she told him regretfully. "Otherwise I'd be getting in there with you. But someone has to represent the family, and that someone is me." There was fear in her eyes, even if she wasn't going to openly admit to it. She hadn't told Joslin the details of what had happened the last time a Coimbran commander had visited the keep, and she was hoping this captain was not bred in the same vein as that man had been. "They'll not stay long, I'll make sure of it."

He saw the fear in her eyes and didn't blame her, anger swelling inside him at the inability to protect her. He touched her cheek, hoping to reassure her a little, if he could. There wasn't much more he could do than that. "I am right here, and I promise I won't let them hurt you," he told her, knowing he couldn't linger much longer. A quick kiss to her lips and he fit himself into that small space, his heart racing.

She kissed him in return, catching his hand to guide it to a wooden lever set into the wall inside the hole. "That'll let you out, if you've a need," she told him softly, glancing sharply to the door as the sound of hooves in the yard made themselves known. "I must go. Be safe, Jos." Scrambling to draw the door closed, she rushed to make his bed seem as though no one had slept in it, checking the room for any sign of her guest. She was just about done when young Laurel came to the bedroom door.

"M'lady, there's a Captain Owens below, calling for you," the girl said shakily.

Juliana reached out to hug the young maid. "I'll go, Laurel," she assured her. "You hide yourself, you hear me? Don't come out unless your ma or I tell you to. Now go." Ushering the girl away, she cast a look back toward the panel she knew Jos was hidden behind, nodded once, and slipped from sight herself.

If anything happens, Joslin's mind echoed, as he slowly turned around in the cramped space so that he could see and hear as much as he could from through the small knothole in the wood. The hiding place didn't afford him much room, and the hole in the wood didn't allow him much of a view, but it was too late to argue. He was not sure if he was well enough yet to take on six healthy Coimbran soldiers on his own, and even if he did, there would be hell to pay afterwards when the Coimbrans found out. No, he had no choice but to hide, even if it felt wrong in his heart to hide like a coward while the woman he had come to love these past weeks faced them alone. If they harmed one hair on her head ....Joslin tried not to think about that; it only made him more angry.

It was a good hour or more before Jos saw Juliana again, and when he did, it was not in the best of circumstances. The bedroom door burst open violently, and through the limited range of the knothole before his eye, he saw Juliana pushed heavily into the room. Her braid was half undone, the sleeve of her dress torn, and yet, despite her obvious tears of fright, she pushed herself to stand upright and face the man who marched in after her. This Coimbran captain seemed cut of the same cloth as the last who had come to Darroch, with no need to threaten when he could simply carry through his wishes. As Juliana raised the candlestick to strike him, he backhanded her almost casually with such force that the young borderwoman staggered back, falling hard against the carven end of the bed. Before she could recover herself, she was thrown bodily onto that bed, and so began a wrestling match with her legs and skirts that had her shrieking for help.

Joslin had always considered himself to be a reasonable man. He was a Knight of Francia and as such, prided himself on conducting himself with the utmost honor and integrity, but when he both heard and saw what the Coimbran captain intended to do, the blood in his veins came to a boil, raging with fury and hatred, and without a second thought for his own safety, he grabbed hold of his sword and pushed the wooden lever that would slide the door of the hidey hole open to release him. He didn't even bother to give the man time to react, roaring with rage as he bodily grabbed hold of the man and threw him off Juliana.

The captain was so intent upon winning his way with Juliana that he didn't hear the panel sliding back, or the furious footsteps behind him. The first he knew of anyone else in the room was strong hands on him, throwing him bodily away from the weeping woman on the bed. "What the - " He rolled to his back, looking up at the intruder, and a vicious scowl crossed his face. "Frankish scum. We'll burn the place for this!"

"Over my dead body," Joslin muttered, knowing full well that was what the Coimbran captain intended. It was more a challenge than a threat, though. The Coimbrans had killed his friends dishonorably with their ambush, and now one of them was threatening his beloved with the intention of forcing himself upon her. No matter what happened to him, Joslin could not stand by and do nothing while the man took advantage of her and her people. "Take up your sword and fight like a man, rather than like the coward you are," he challenged.

Jos frowned up at her as she entered the room. He'd seen and heard enough to know she wasn't being entirely truthful, and yet, he didn't want to argue with her or remind her of what the man had done - or tried to do. It wasn't the first time he'd been wounded, and it likely wounded by the last. "You're shaking, mon coeur," he told her, reaching for her hands, though he did not trust himself to get to his feet.

To her credit, she didn't even try to argue that point, sinking into a seat close beside him as he took her hands between his. "I was frightened," she admitted to him softly. "The last time a man handled me that way, my brothers and father were here to stop him. There was no one below but the women, and they couldn't have done anything. T'was sheer dumb luck that he chose that room."

Was it sheer dumb luck, or was it something more than that' He was starting to think none of this had been luck, but he didn't really believe in fate either. No, as far as Joslin was concerned, there was a greater hand in all this, a greater power who was guiding their destinies. Why his men had to have died, he didn't know, but he knew that their sacrifice had led him here. He didn't want to debate that now though; he'd think on it later. He took her face between his hands, searching her eyes, still a little wild with fear. "I would have stopped him ....somehow. I will never let anyone hurt you ever again, Juliana. This I swear ....never again," he told her solemnly, meeting her gaze.

She leaned toward him, comforted by his touch as he solemnly made his vow. "I believe you," she answered him softly, her hand rising to brush over his heart. "Jos ....I know I said that I didn't love you. I was wrong. When I saw him attack you, I knew I couldn't bear it to see you harmed again. I love you, Joslin."

"My sweet Juliana," he whispered, a soft smile on his face, touched by her words. He'd already guessed that she loved him, despite her denial. The fact was that he loved her, too, and had for some time - perhaps right from the moment he'd first woken to her lovely face hovering close to his and looking so concerned for his well-being. "Je t'aime, Juliana," he told her softly. "I love you, too." Despite the bumps and bruises and aches they both had suffered, he leaned closer and touched his lips to hers, as tenderly and gently as ever, wordlessly sharing his heart with the woman he loved.

She was almost in tears as he kissed her, not just from the fear and pain, but from the surge of happiness that rose in her heart as he shared his love for her. Her fingers touched softly against his jaw as he kissed her, caressing his cheek as she drew back, blue eyes glistening as she smiled at him. "You should let me look at your back," she told him, ever practical, even in the face of the declaration they had shared. "I'll not have you suffering for my sake."

He very gingerly touched the place on her face where the Coimbran bastard had struck her, noting the swelling with a frown and knowing she was going to have a bruise to show for it. "He hurt you," he remarked, a concerned look on his face. Now that the Coimbran threat had passed, his hands were shaking a little, not out of fear so much as out of shock and pain and worry for her safety.

"He would have done worse without you there to protect me," she reminded him gently, shaking her head to dismiss the bruises she bore. A tentative knock at the door announced Laurel's arrival, not only with Juliana's basket, but with fresh clothing for them both. "Thank you, Laurel. Tell McCallum we'll wait for my father's judgment on the men who survived. The dead can be burned." As the young girl left, quieter than Jos had seen her before, Juliana opened her basket. "I don't think he hurt you badly, but I should like to clean the cut."

"I've had worse, you know," he teased, a faint smirk on his face despite the circumstances. Of course, she'd know he had worse - she was the one who had patched him up after the Coimbrans had left him for dead. "That's going to bruise," he remarked, the smirk turning to a frown. It was too bad it hadn't snowed yet. He could make a cold pack for her.

Her hand rose to touch the bruise on her jaw. "It's over the bone," she told him softly. "The bruise won't last." Sitting upright, she looked him over. "Will ....Do you need help getting your tunic and shirt off?" she asked him a little shyly.

The frown lingered on his face, more concerned for her than himself, though it appeared she'd only suffered bumps and bruises. He didn't even want to think about what the Coimbran scum might have done to her if he hadn't been there to stop him. "Never again, cheri. I will not let anyone ever hurt you again," he assured her again, with a tender caress of her cheek. He smiled a little as he sensed her shyness, though she had seen him undressed before now. "I think I can manage it. Are you turning shy on me now that we are promised to each other?"

She blushed a little, the color returning to her pale cheeks as he smiled at her. "A wee bit, perhaps," she admitted. "I've never been close to a man half-dressed I wanted more to do with than heal." Her eyes widened as she realized what she had said, and she bit her lip, the blush deepening as she hurriedly looked back into the basket to rummage ineffectually for another long moment.

Thankfully, he wasn't too shocked by her remark, but rather amused by it, as evidenced by the chuckle of laughter, followed by a wince of pain. He didn't think he'd re-injured anything, but those ribs of his were aching again, and his back felt like it was on fire. "Do you still wish to wait for your father to arrive before we are wed?" he asked, dark eyes dancing with amusement.

She gasped, her head jerking up as she stared at him. All too soon, however, she noticed the sparkle in his eyes, reaching over to slap his knee. "Och, you tease," she rolled her eyes. "You're too much a gentleman to rush through a wedding without speaking to my father." She hadn't actually answered the question, though, laughing now as she moved to help him with his tunic and shirt. "Men always insist on doing everything for themselves," she muttered, and it sounded like a long held irritation. "Even if your arm was falling off, you'd try and do this alone."

"Would I?" he asked, trying to hide a wince as she helped him off with his tunic and shirt. "Perhaps I only let his blade graze me so that I could feel your tender touch," he teased again, even as he sucked his breath in shrugged the tunic and shirt from his shoulders. Thankfully, the Coimbran blade had cut a clean line across his back, which didn't appear too deep.

"Aye, you would," she chuckled, her smile less forced now she was beginning to relax. Her fingertips skimmed very gently along the line of the cut, below the open flesh. "This isn't so bad," she told him. "Cleaned up and touched with a wash of herbs, I won't need to even bandage it." As she spoke, she reached for the jug and basin, wetting a cloth to begin the swift work.

He turned so that she could get at his back better. The slash would likely add one more scar to a young body that already bore more than his fair share. He remembered each one and how it had been earned, but he was still young and blessed with a healthy body that had a tendency to heal quickly. "Your father shouldn't have left you here alone," he said, voicing an opinion he'd, up until now, kept to himself. He knew the man hadn't done it because he didn't care for his daughter, but if he had not been there, there was no telling what the Coimbrans might have done.

"He's already lost one son, Jos," she said quietly, but there was a flat tone in her voice that suggested this was not up for discussion. "He can't lose another." She was gentle as she wiped the already dried blood from his skin. "He didn't want to leave me, but there was no choice. That is all there is to it."

"I know, love," he said, the frown heard in his voice, even with his back turned toward her. "I do not mean to judge his actions. These are hard times we live in. I am glad I was here to protect you. I am only thinking perhaps 'tis time to show your people how best to defend themselves."

"Those that can fight learned from their fathers," she explained, her attention focused on his back as she worked. "Those that were best were taken by the Coimbran army. My father will be at Arindale by now. It should not be so much more than a week or so before he returns."

"Aye, let's." She rose up to kiss him once more, making a monumental effort to keep the tender touch brief before slipping from his arms. "I've to change," she reminded him. "Most don't know what could have happened, and I would rather they didn't. Foolish wishes for revenge cause trouble." As she spoke, she pulled the laces of her outer dress loose, shaking it from her shoulders, and turned her back as her hands untied the laces of the heavy shift beneath. Shy she might have been, but she knew herself well enough to understand that the sooner she was ready to leave, the easier he would be once he had visited the chapel.

There was little need for revenge, he thought, when he had already killed the man who would have done her harm, though he was not naive enough to think there would not be others. The sooner he made her his wife, the better, not to mention moving her to Lonnare. He watched with rapt attention as she tugged at the laces of her dress, and with a monumental effort, turned away so that she could change without him gaping at her with adoring and lustful eyes. What would she think of him to know he wanted her as much as the Coimbran captain had, though for different reasons" His desire was born out of love, not merely lust. He distracted himself with tugging on the clean shirt she'd brought him, glad she didn't see the expression on his face as he pulled it on over his head and torso, glancing briefly at the wound in his side, thankful the stitches hadn't ripped open in his struggle with the captain.

With his back turned, he didn't see that she wasn't stripping herself completely naked, her form still mostly hidden by the short chemise she wore beneath her clothing. Still, she could feel her cheeks burning as she struggled into the undamaged shift and dress Laurel had found her for, smiling at little at the haste that had brought out one of her best dresses in exchange for the one that had been torn. That done, she raised her hands to undo what was left of the braid in her hair, combing out the tangles as she looked over at Joslin. Was a woman supposed to feel so strongly for a man as she did for him, she wondered. It wasn't simply the love that made her heart ache at the thought of harm to him; it was the way her body yearned for his touch, his kisses. It was usual for a married woman, apparently, but she'd never realized that feeling began before marriage. "Why is it a sin to want to touch?" she asked him suddenly, a part of her wondering if he knew the answer.

Compared to her, the knight looked like a common servant with his blond hair disheveled and the plain tunic and trousers he wore. He'd been born a commoner, after all, and fit the part well. Though she might not be a high-born lady, he thought her more beautiful than anyone he'd ever met. As he turned to face her, the question took him by surprise, as evidenced by the look on his face, not quite sure how to answer that. He was no cleric, and he hadn't always been exactly virtuous, though he'd never taken a woman by force and he'd never given one a child. Why was it so different for a woman than a man' Was it only because a woman could become pregnant' It was just as sinful for a man to make a child out of wedlock, wasn't it' "I think it is because the union of a man and woman is looked on as a sacred thing and a gift from the Goddess."

"Then why isn't every union of that sort considered sacred?" she asked curiously, twisting her hair back out of her face. "Why only married unions" It does not make sense, Jos. Does it?" It was a sensible enough question, though one that ladies of a certain rank and higher were actively encouraged never to consider.

"I cannot answer that, Jules, but I believe the Goddess wishes us not only to enter into a union of the physical kind but that of-that of the heart. When a man and woman come together in such a way, they are honoring the Goddess and her love for us, and if a child is made from such a union, then perhaps it is her way of blessing us," he explained, though he was certainly aware of plenty of loveless unions that had produced children, so it was more than just that. He sighed, thinking a cleric could explain so much better than he. He reached for her hands, linking her fingers with his, a look of solemn regret on his face. "I must confess I am ....I am not so pure of body as I once was, but my love for you is pure and true. There has been no one for a very long time, and though I have not been so very virtuous, you are the only one I have every truly loved," he confessed, pressing her hands against his heart, as if that would somehow make her believe him.

The fervent way he took her hands and confessed to her brought a look of surprise to Juliana's face as she looked into his eyes. "Och, love, I wouldn't expect you to be pure in such a way," she promised him. "It is different for men than it is for women, I do understand. So long as you love me, that's all I wish for. I'll never be untrue to you." Easing closer, she rose onto her toes, brushing the tip of her nose to his with a soft smile. "I love you, and I trust you, and I know I shall not change my mind nor my heart where you are concerned. So why is it a sin for me to want you so, when we've already promised to spend our lives together?"

His vision clouded with unexpected tears as she heard his confession and didn't condemn him, but rather seemed to understand and accept his past, as well as trust that he loved her and would never hurt her. "I do not know, love," he replied, uncertainly. "Perhaps it is only that the Goddess demands to witness our promise and offer her blessing." There was more to it than that, he knew, but that was the best he could do for now. "I only know that I love you and that I don't deserve you," he admitted, bowing his head in shame.

If only she could say for certain how her father would react if he returned to find her married, Juliana would have thrown caution to the wind and had the chaplain marry them that very day. But Aidan Darroch could be unpredictable in temper sometimes, and he would be worried enough having left her alone in the first place. "Perhaps it is only that men wish to be certain that they are the father of their wife's child," she offered innocently. "And if you are the only man I ever lie with, there would never be any reason to suspect such a thing, would there?" Blue eyes lit up with mischief above her smile as she drew his hands up to kiss his knuckles. "Come, love. We should go to the chapel while there's light."

"Perhaps," he admitted, though there was a slight flaw in her logic, he thought. So long as a woman only lay with her husband, there could be no doubt as to who the father of her child was, but that was not always the case, and in a place like the borderlands, it was all that much more important that the women be protected against an enemy who might do them harm. His frown softened as she kissed his knuckles, her smile chasing the shadows from his heart, as bright as a sunny summer's day. "Tres bien," he replied, surrendering to her. It had been his wish, after all, to visit the chapel and pay homage to his comrades who had fallen beside him.

Hand in hand, she drew him from the chamber and down through the main hall, ignoring the indulgent smiles cast their way by the housekeeper and bailiff as they assisted in the clean up. Out into the sunshine, and Juliana turned her eyes away from the bodies stacked neatly by the wall, ready to be burned when the pyre was built. Only two men had died, one by Joslin's hand, but she had an aversion to death that was so wholly unnecessary. Only a little courtesy, and they would still be living, after all.

Had he known how she felt, he might have apologized for the man's death, but though he felt sorrow for the man's family, he knew he had been justified in his actions. As pointless as it sometimes seemed, this was war, and it was the Coimbrans who were to blame for such violence, not those who lived on the border. He only gave the two bodies a cursory glance, having seen plenty of bloodshed in his time spent as a knight in the King's service. So long as it was not the blood of his countrymen or those who were under his protection, all he could do was pray for their souls, just as he'd promised the Coimbran captain at his death.

The chaplain, an elderly priestess who had clearly joined the household for the years before her death, was already within the chapel as they entered, murmuring softly over the incense burner as thick clouds of sweet smelling smoke filled the little space. Built within the walls of the keep, the chapel was a small affair, but very much still in keeping with the great Temples that had been built in the cities across the continent, simply a smaller version of those larger places of worship. As they entered, Juliana paused, taking a shawl from the hook just inside the door to cover her hair - a border custom that would take time to break her of, no doubt. The altar stood behind the carven screen, visible from the door through which they entered, and upon the altar lay five urns, the last mortal remains of Joslin's companions. It was for them the incense burned, blessing the space in which they rested until they could be returned to their home.

There was a pause as the priestess considered his words, her smile audible as she spoke. "Where true love is nurtured and tended with care, there is no sin," she told him softly. "Such love as you have that shall be joined in marriage is such a love as this. Your promises are made to one another, before the Goddess, who is omniscient. Hold true to those promises, and no loving action will be a sin for either one of you. It is the gift of the Goddess."

"Oui, but before ..." He broke off, as he struggled to confess the sins of the flesh that had taken place before he'd met Juliana, before he'd fallen in love, before he'd proposed marriage and promised his heart. "I ask forgiveness for what I have done before. Let me do penance for those sins so that I can enter into this marriage with a pure and loving heart." There was pleading in his voice, and despite his shortcomings and faults and failings, it was obvious he was sincere in his desire to uphold his promise and be a good husband.

"Young man, I have lived a very long life," the priestess told him with a long-suffering sigh. One had to wonder just how many young men she got in her confessional asking for penance for this sort of thing. "I have seen war and death, cruelty beyond anything you can imagine. But I have also seen peace, life, love. I have seen acts of kindness that have touched my heart and deepened my faith. It is my opinion, and I have seen nothing to negate it, that sin only occurs when you begin to treat people as things. The women you have loved in your life ....have you ever simply used them and walked away' Have you ever done anything that you cannot forgive yourself for?"

He sniffled again, his emotions threatening to get the best of him, the guilt he carried on his shoulders mostly self-imposed. "I have never forced myself on anyone or taken anything that was not freely offered," he replied, nor had he ever had the need or desire to pay for any favors of the flesh. He'd had a few affairs, but none of them had been very serious and they all paled in comparison to what he felt for Juliana. "I love her, Mother, more than life itself, and I would do anything to keep her safe from harm, even if it cost me my life. She is everything to me." There was only one other person he loved as much as his Juliana, and that was his sister.

"Then you need no absolution to enter your life with her," the priestess told him gently. "To cling to such thoughts when no wrongdoing has occurred is to serve yourself badly. The Goddess would not have given you this gift if She thought you incapable of honoring it. As for your wish for penance, I will give you only this ....the command to love and honor your Juliana all your days, and never to stray, so long as you live."

Relief washed over him, lifting the burden from his shoulders and the guilt from his heart, and he stifled a sob of relief. "Merci, dame mere," he blurted in his native tongue, his face wet with tears she might not be able to see through the screen that separated them but would be able to hear in his voice. "I will, I swear. I will love and honor her always and never give her any reason to doubt my love."

"Then go in the peace of the Goddess, my son. In Her name, by Her light, and with Her blessing, I absolve and cleanse you of any sin." In the dim light beyond the screen, she could be seen making her obeisance to the Goddess, setting him free of his perceived sins.

Whether those sins were perceived or not, he felt a huge load lift from his shoulders, as if his soul had been cleansed, living him pure in heart and intent. When he finally stumbled out of the confessional, his face streaked with tears, there seemed a lightness about him, his face almost shining with an otherworldly light, as though the Goddess' blessing shined from somewhere deep inside him. He smiled when he saw Juliana, a radiant smile, like the sun emerging from behind the clouds on a stormy day.

The change in him was beautiful to see. Juliana met his smile with her own, warm and tender, glad to see that just a little time with the wise woman who tended this chapel had been enough to lift the burden from his soul. She rose from the pew as he approached her, holding her hand out to him. She spoke no words, unwilling to break the stillness of the chapel, but instead touched a kiss to his cheek, deeply grateful to see him so at peace within himself.

Though his body still ached with the healing of his wounds, his heart felt as light as a feather, burning with the desire to make his life count, to make a difference in the world, and to prove himself worthy of the Goddess' blessing, and all of it started with Juliana. He took her hands between his own, touching his lips to her cheek. "Je t'aime, Juliana," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat.

Looking into his eyes, the trauma of the day was forgotten. Nothing mattered but seeing him so light-hearted, so happy, after their truly awful morning. "I love you, too," she whispered back to him, drawing him out of the church, the shawl left on the hook inside the door. "What would you like to do today?" she asked him when they were outside in the cold sunshine.

What did he want to do' It felt like he had somehow transcended the past and was given a new beginning. There were so many ways to answer that question. He wanted to love her and find some way to show her he loved her, but before he did anything else, he wanted to find a way to honor the friends he had lost and to honor the sacrifice they had made to keep these lands safe for the people who lived here. The question was how. "I wish to honor my friends, and I wish all those who live here to know who they were and why they were willing to risk their lives for what they believed in." It wasn't very romantic, perhaps, but he could not truly bid them farewell until it was done. "A bonfire in their honor," he suggested.

Juliana nodded, easing herself into the circle of his arms, uncaring that her people could see the easy affection between them. "Then that is what we will do," she promised him. "I will have the word put out and we will celebrate your friends' lives when the work of the day is done. But until then, Sir Knight' There are hours to fill, unless you've a wish to return to bed and rest after your exertions."

"Would it be too forward of me to ask to tend your wounds for a change, my lady?" he asked, an almost impish smile on his face. He had practically received the priestess' permission to love his Juliana any way he wished, and yet, he knew that whether he waited for her father's arrival or not, it would change nothing. He would love her for the rest of his days, and whether he waited a little while longer or took her to his bed now, it would make no difference at all.

She laughed, her cheeks blooming with color as he asked his question of her. "I've naught but bruises," she reminded him, though it was hardly a no. "Are you a skilled healer, my love, as well as a bonny fighter?"

"Skilled?" he echoed with a light shrug. "I am a Knight of Francia, my lady. I have many skills," he teased, a small smirk on his face as he circled his arms about her waist, not quite giving her a straight answer.

"Aye, and a silver tongue to match," she teased him, just barely wincing as his arm encircled her waist, pressing lightly against the sore bruise rising on her side. Her fingers danced against his chest. "Well, my bonny, if you would see to my bruises, we must go back inside, for I'll not strip here in the sunshine for any sweet smile you might give me."

He frowned when he noticed the wince, even though she'd tried to hide it, and loosened his hold on her waist. "Are you hurt?" he asked, a look of concern etched on his face. He had no way of knowing what hurts she might be hiding beneath her clothing, but at least, she didn't seem to be seriously injured.

Her fingers traced his cheek gently as she smiled. "Just bruises," she reminded him in a soft voice. "I fell hard against the bed on that side, love. It will leave a mark for a wee while, 'tis all." She stopped herself from mentioning all his hurts, aware by now that he did not like to have a fuss made.