04

He awoke to the awareness of pain. Every part of his body was asunder with throbbing and throe and he found much difficulty in breathing as if a block of stone sat upon his chest, crushing the breath that he found so arduous to produce.

For a moment he lay still, struggling pass the haziness of his mind, staring engagingly up at the turf ceiling, puzzled by the inability to connect his thoughts.

He couldn't seem to focus and make means of anything around him. His body felt heavy, lethargic, his limbs not of his control as he attempted to move.

"You mustn't move." The voice that spoke to him was stern yet soft, and very feminine.

His eyes immediately sought the source of the lovely lilt but he found only shadows cast by a flickering light.

"Who is there?" he growled crossly, groaning inwardly as the room began to tilt uncontrollably. "Damnation-" he clenched his eyes against the excess whirling, "-what did you give me?"

"Tis a sedative brew conjured of ginger root and rosemary. It is for the pain."

His face darkened all the more, "Have you poisoned me?"

There was a soft chuckle, "I assure you, tis perfectly harmless."

As the sedative worked its way through his body, he grew ever more leaden as he struggled to stay alert.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he sought the mysterious woman but with the room spinning as it were, it was twice as difficult to fathom his surroundings let alone a woman shifting throughout the room. Unable to fight the strong pull of the brew any longer he blissfully slipped unaware.

When he awoke some time later, he was taken aback by the abrupt splash of sunlight filtering through the room. He blinked several times to adapt to the sudden brightness and felt a lingering effect of listlessness as he attempted to sit upright.

He realized then that beneath the wool blanket, aside from a bandage wrapped securely around his midriff, that he was completely naked.

He gritted his teeth as he shifted his weight, gasping roughly as an intense pain gripped his side in agony. He knew the pain well enough to know that his ribs were broken but how they had come to be in such a state was questionable. He couldn't seem to think pass the obstruction of emptiness in his head. How had he come to be here? Where exactly was here?

He peered around to assimilate his surroundings. The room was fairly large, perhaps a cottage with walls made of wood and the ceiling construed of matted earth. He noticed a wooden chest resting against one wall and an assortment of clay pots aligned along a bench positioned against the opposite wall. A peculiar smell exuded the air and he wrinkled his nose with distaste wondering if the source of the unpleasant odor had been the exact concoction that put him to slumber.

He stiffened at the sound of a man's voice, unfamiliar and distinctly unfriendly. He realized than with increasing agitation that along with his clothing, he had no weapon of use and considering his current state, was not fit to stand against anyone at the moment.

His face hardened with anticipation, his muscles tensing with pain as the door opened producing a youth of average built and dark hair. The boy, not quite a man, lugged a pitcher of water and carried it to place before the hearth; he turned and froze his face hardening with an emotion that bordered intense displeasure.

"So, the Norman has managed to fare."

His eyes narrowed sharply, "So it would seem."

The boy smirked a wry grin, "It would appear that you are in a compromising position, Norman. You are in the hands of your Saxon enemy, what do you plan to do?"

Fallon resisted the urge to sneer. The boy was as arrogant as they came but given the circumstances, he was in no position to inflict much damage, even to a cocksure lad as the one before him.

"Rowan!"

Immediately Fallon recognized the beautiful voice that had spoken to him the previous night but as the boy turned, giving him a visual of the woman, he had not anticipated the sight of what his eyes beheld.

The woman was of slight stature, wearing a blue linen dress with an apron wrapped around an incredibly tiny waist, and small feet adorned in soft leather shoes. Her alabaster skin had an unruly effect on him and he had the oddest impulse to run his fingers to ensure the smoothness of such lovely fairness.

But the most startling feature of this delightful beauty was the peculiar shade of red hair resembling an early sunrise and a kindled flame; a red as lovely as poppies embellishing a meadow.

Alana was intently aware of the warrior's unwavering, golden stare and refused to appear unnerved as she felt within.

Instead, she tried focusing all her attention on Rowan. "What are you doing here?" she demanded her voice surprisingly shrill as she struggled to quell her nerves.

Rowan's face hardened, "I'm here to ensure that this-" at Alana's warning glare he refrained from using terms such as 'beast' or 'savage' and decided alternatively, "-Norman, doesn't harm you."

Alana planted her hands firmly on her waist and lifted her chin to glare pointedly up at Rowan. "I don't need you to coddle me, Rowan."

He stepped closer and she retreated, her face tilting downward at the unexpectedness of his closeness. "Alana-" he began in a hushed voice, "-you tend a man who has come to claim our land."

Her chin lifted once more, "The land belongs to neither him nor you." Her eyes slid sideways to connect with those gold eyes and she quickly looked away. What was wrong with her? She had never been intimidated by a man afore?

Rowan gripped her arm, "I'm warning you Alana, you will bring chaos to this village if you do not send him away."

His words sent a fleeting emotion of fear through her and she wrenched away from him. "Leave me."

He sighed heavily out of frustration but after a hard glance over his shoulder, he quietly left.

Alana turned and felt a foreign sensation tingle through her body. The sunlight poured beautifully into the cottage and it seemed to do wonders for her Norman patient, giving her a clearer picture of the man she had rescued from the forest.

She had never seen such a remarkable man. Incredibly handsome, intensely large, built in an abundance of sheer muscle. Not even Geoff, who was considered the largest man in the village, was nearly as large as this man.

His bronze skin gleamed golden in the light; his tawny-colored hair, swept casually from his forehead, fell in loose waves to rest atop shoulders so wide and immense, she imagined there was not another that could match such broadness.

He managed to pull himself upright, giving her a visual of a lean and intensely muscled abdomen. She felt her face redden as her eyes, of their own accord, slipped even lower to where the edge of the blanket just barely covered his manhood.

"If you continue to peer at me so, as you are, maiden, I may be tempted to act on my own impulses."

Alana gasped and wrenched her eyes upward, stunned to find that the Norman's unyielding gold eyes lingered hotly on her breasts.

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