Medieval Master Swordsmen(452)

Derica paused, feeling foolish, feeling overwhelmed. The thought of bearing another man’s children had not yet occurred to her. To let this man, no matter how kind he had been to her, touch her in such an intimate fashion made her sick to her stomach. The only man she would ever want to touch her in that manner was dead. She forced herself to look at him, smiling weakly.

“There may be days when I behave abruptly, for reasons I can hardly explain at the moment,” she said quietly. “You did not offend me. It is just difficult for me to think of another marriage right now, much less children.”

Keller was relieved he had not insulted her. He gave her a lopsided smile. “And you have to ask me why you make me nervous? I live in constant fear to say something that will upset you, and I do not want to do that.”

“I realize that, and I am sorry. I shall try to do better.”

He looked at her a moment. “I should not want you to do better.”

“Why not?”

He tried to put his thoughts into words. “Because if you were grieving for me, I should want the same devotion. I shall not take any measure of loyalty away from Garren le Mon.”

Derica thought on that. “Sir Keller, I suspect that you are a truly remarkable man somewhere underneath all of that knightly solemnity.”

He smiled, embarrassed. “I cannot say, my lady.”

“I can.” She flashed him a genuine smile. “Good night to you.”





CHAPTER SIXTEEN



“If she fell into the river, there is no knowing how far down stream she is drifted,” Emyl said quietly. “You must face facts, Garren. Your wife is dead.”

Garren’s jaw flexed dangerously. In the great hall of Cilgarren, he stood his ground, unwilling to give in to the resignation the others had. It had been nearly four weeks since Derica’s disappearance and, for as much as they had searched, they were convinced she had drowned in the river and her body would not be found. It had been a painful realization for Offa and Emyl, a devastating one for David. Their world had been a dark and dreary place as of late.

“I understand your logic,” Garren said steadily. “But if nobody has been located, then there is still hope. I have seen too many incidents of alleged death in my life to be so easily convinced that death has come. Show me her body and I shall believe it.”

Emyl cast his son a long look before turning away. He was too old to give in to false hopes. Fergus, however, had been listening to unrealistic expectations for the better part of a week.

“We’ll go look for her, you and me,” he told Garren. “Perhaps, somehow, she made it out of the water and was kidnapped by peasants. Perhaps she is being held hostage somewhere. Who knows?”

“Nonsense!” Offa snorted. “More than likely, if she made out of the water, she is in the hands of bandits who will…”

A deadly look from Garren stopped him. Fergus smoothed the situation. “There is a possibility she escaped your search,” he said. “Garren is like a hound. He’ll track her until he finds her.”

“What if he doesn’t find her?”

It was David’s soft question. They all looked at him, the tall, slender man with the haunting dark eyes, knowing how smitten he had been with Derica. He had, so far, looked the most for her out of all of them. Even with her husband returned, the enormous knight with the recent battle scars, he was still feeling her loss and was inadequately hiding his feelings.

“Unless God himself has reached down and pulled her into the heavens, I will find her,” Garren growled at him.

No one had the courage to say another negative word. Garren was exhausted from battle, exhausted from riding for days on end, and in no mood to be disputed. He wouldn’t even wait to eat and rest, as Fergus had strongly suggested. Finally reaching Cilgarren had empowered him, renewed his resolve to find Derica alive. He was back where he had left her, and he could feel her presence as strongly as if she was standing next to him. Nothing was going to stop him from finding his wife. In a flash of armor and steel, he quit the hall.

Fergus followed him outside, as did the others. Near the kitchens, he slowed to observe the sloping hillside that abruptly disappeared into the river below. The weather had long since worn away any clues that might have told him what had happened to his wife on that fateful day. Still, he inspected the slope, walked among the wild garden, glancing down to the murky riverbed.

“She was here, we think.”

Garren turned to Fergus, who was standing very close to the edge of the cliff. The man was looking sadly into the gray waters. He made his way over to the place where Fergus stood and paced around, inspecting the rim.