Elaine Barbieri by the Rose, the Shield Read Free Book Online

and that the sensation of holding that slender body close had somehow been like no other. He recalled that the narrow expanse of the young fellow’s back under his palm had seemed so delicate that he had been tempted to clutch it closer. He remembered that the soft mounds pressed against his chest had raised a sensation that he—
    No, that could not be correct!
    Dagan struggled to clear his mind. Yea, he recalled that he had known many such as the young lad before. Yet he had never felt drawn to any of them as he was to this slender youth.
    Something was wrong.
    Dagan closed his eyes, recalling that a fever had overwhelmed him. He had been attacked and beaten by thieves before managing to mount Conqueror and give him his head. Conqueror had brought him here— wherever
here
was.
    “You’re awake, and your eyes are clear.” In a puzzling lapse of time, the young man was suddenly standing beside him. His blue eyes reflected his relief when he said, “I feared for you when your fever escalated, but I can see now that it has lessened. I am glad.”
    Somehow annoyed that the boy’s relief should impact him so greatly, Dagan said hoarsely, “Who are you?”
    “My name is Ros…Ross, remember? Your horse brought you to the site of Baron de Silva’s cathedral, and we tended to you.”
    “
You
tended to me.”
    The young man nodded. “I tended your wounds, and took your clothes and washed them as well.” Nodding to the fireplace, where ragged clothing hung drying, she said, “They will be clean and dry when you are well again and ready to don them.”
    Common clothes of a common man…but he was no common man.
    Dagan squinted against the pain that surged in his chest when he attempted to speak, only to be halted by the lad, who ordered, “That’s enough for now. You are weak. I have only one other question to ask. What may I call you?”
    “My name…”
    “Yea, your name.”
    Noting that the old man rose from his mattress adistance away as he was about to reply, Dagan responded cautiously, “My name is…Dagan.”
    Approaching, the old man asked suspiciously, “I am curious how you command such great control over the Norman war horse that you stole, Dagan.”
    “Conqueror?”
    The old fellow frowned. “An unfortunate name, considering the circumstances under which we Saxons live.”
    “I did not name him. I rescued him…and earned his devotion.”
    “This man is ill, Father. He should not be questioned in this manner.”
    Dagan’s attention turned toward the young man. “Father?”
    The old man replied, “I am like a father to Ross, but he is my apprentice.”
    Dagan glanced up into the silver-blue eyes looking down into his. Pain surged anew and he gasped and closed his eyes. “To you, he is a son. To me he is…somehow more.”
    Rosamund swallowed as the stranger closed his eyes. She glanced up to see Hadley looking at her. Dagan’s mumbling had been all but incoherent. She could not be certain Hadley had understood him, but she had understood every word.
    Somehow more
…
    Silently chiding herself at the effect Dagan’s confused statement had had on her, Rosamund turned back to the fire. Of course she was
somehow more
to thestranger. She was his only hope for survival. He was totally dependent on her.
    But even as she stirred the pot suspended over the flames, Rosamund knew what the stranger had meant. Despite the danger involved in the difficult situation, she felt the same.
    Yea…he was
somehow more
.
    “All rebellion against William is doomed from the start. You know that as well as I.”
    Baron Guilbert de Silva regarded Sir Franchot Champlain contemptuously as his knight’s statement echoed in the silence of his extensive quarters.
    It occurred to him that although the fellow was still tall, muscular, and obviously skilled at the butchery of his trade, Champlain had begun showing his age. Not only was his formerly heavy brown hair thinning and his girth widening, Champlain’s aging was also