Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [150]
“No, we hear very little news of the outside world here.”
Vaden glanced at the stark isolation of the land around them. “It doesn’t surprise me. Richard signed a treaty with Saladin and abandoned the Crusade but was taken for ransom by Duke Leopold of Austria on his way back to England.” He added grimly, “May he rot there.” He put on his helmet. “Now I bid you farewell.” He inclined his head mockingly. “If you’ll permit me to leave without slicing off my head, my lady?”
“Wait.” Ware took a step forward. “At least stay the night.”
Vaden shook his head. “I’ve done what I came for. If I stayed, I’d have to put up with seeing a great warrior curled on his hearth like a tame pussycat.”
“You’re afraid,” Ware said softly. “It’s possible you might find that hearth both welcoming and desirable.”
“You’ll never know.” Vaden turned his horse and started down the hill.
“Don’t go back,” Ware called. “What is there for you there?”
“Nothing. I won’t go back to the Order.”
“Then stay here. It won’t be such a tame life. The highlands have more strife than any place on earth.”
Vaden smiled. “You have too good an influence on me. I find it most disconcerting.”
“Vaden,” Thea called, “if you won’t stay, why did you come all this way? Why didn’t you just burn the banner if you didn’t want them to have it?”
“I couldn’t.” He reined in his horse where he had buried his sword and reached down to pluck it from the ground. “I had to bring it.”
“Why?”
He frowned with annoyance. “What difference does it make?”
It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, yet she felt compelled to keep probing. “It seems strange that you would undertake such a long journey when it was not—”
“Dammit.” The glance he threw over his shoulder glittered with intense frustration and an odd sheepishness. “I brought it because I could do nothing else. It wanted to be here.” He put spurs to his horse and galloped down the hill.
Her hands clenched in the folds of the banner as she watched him streak away from them as if the devil were after him.
“Good riddance,” Vaden had said as he’d tossed the banner to her.
“Imagination?” Ware asked softly, his gaze still on Vaden.
“Is he a man who is overly imaginative?”
“No.”
She had not thought he was, and yet his words could have only one meaning.
To her amazement the knowledge brought no fear. The silk of the banner felt comfortingly familiar in her hands, and she was experiencing a sense of overwhelming rightness.
Ware’s gaze was searching her expression. “You’ve accepted it.”
“That the banner has power?” She shook her head. “How can such a thing be when I was the one who created it? I am neither saint nor sorceress. I don’t even know how it came into being. I wondered at one time if my love for you was so great, our souls so close, that I read your thoughts.”
“And you decided?”
“That I will never know.” Her brow wrinkled in thought. “But perhaps, if there is power here, it’s some sort of sign that God is not only for men, that he doesn’t approve of the slavery man has decreed for women. Do you suppose that could be?”
“Anything can be.” He smiled. “And it doesn’t surprise me that you would think so.” He sobered. “What will you do with it?”
“What do you want to do with it? I created it for you.”
“I told Vaden the truth—this has always been a strife-filled land. Do you wish me to fight under your banner?”
“No,” she whispered.
“I didn’t think so.” He touched her cheek with his hand. “I don’t wish it either. It would be too dangerous if it was ever seen. Besides, I fear I have too much self-love. I dislike the thought of relying on a banner to fight my battles.” He looked down