Time Heals All

Chapter: Nine

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The exact reason he'd taken to following Kate since their initial argument was frustratingly absent from Wat's mind. All he knew was that he felt compelled to be near her and watch over her. A thankless job, especially when she noticed him and took exception to his presence.

He followed her, surprised when she didn't appear to notice him on the path behind her. She went to Fortier's, rode straight through the gate. No one stopped her or inquired as to her business. He wasn't stopped either. Wat rode into the courtyard with the air of a man certain he was expected and was ignored for it.

Wat frowned. This was quite unlike the way Will had begun to run his home. By Will's now strict standards, Fortier was shockingly lax in his protective measures. Anyone could ride in here with ill intent and not be stopped until too late. At the gates at home, Will posted guards who asked the business of any wanting to pass through. A smart move in light of recent events and one that Wat himself had suggested.

Going into the manor, he watched Kate go up the stairs, trailing behind long enough to see exactly where she went. Wat waited, observing Fortier's home intently as he pretended to dust a low table.

How could any come here and not realize the man was shifty? The lot in the Great Hall were mercenaries, he'd bet on it. All had a vicious look to them. As for the manor itself, it was in worse repair than Will's home, the furnishings much shabbier than he'd expected to see. The tapestries were threadbare in places and the house had an almost abandoned feel to it, as though no one had actively taken care of it in a very long time.

Fortier may be a Duke, but there didn't look to be much money attached to him.

The man himself came from the door Kate had gone through and Wat listened shamelessly as the man outlined a plan for her to be guarded over until he returned. She was not to be allowed to escape. The young man he spoke to, scurried to his post, while Fortier ordered the second man to continue packing and be ready to travel as soon as he returned. Soon, the Duke had gone.

Interesting. Fortier was leaving the area again. Whatever was he up to?

Briefly, he contemplated letting Kate stew in captivity, but his better nature prevailed. He couldn't leave her with Fortier. Who knew what the man planned to do with her? Wat went around the corner, took up a tray and tossed a cloth over it to look as though he carried food. He then went back around the corner and approached the guard. The man was bigger than Kate, yet smaller than Wat. Beautiful.

"Food," he explained. "For the girl."

The guard turned , opened the door and Wat quickly set the tray down, giving him a mighty shove into the room. The next moments went quite well. He and Kate almost seemed to be reading each other's minds, so well choreographed were their movements. Kate charged the man as he stumbled, swinging a candlestick with an enthusiasm that made Wat wince. There was a sickening thump and the man fell limp to the floor, bleeding from the head.

Kate started to swing the candlestick again, apparently recognized him and tried to stop in mid-swing. She stumbled herself and fell heavily to her rear. "What're you doing here," she blurted out, her face going red.

"Rescuing you." Wat held out a hand to help her up. After a second, she took it. "Fortier's leaving the area. He plans to take you with him I believe."

"Bastard," Kate spat, but whether she was referring to him, Fortier or the both of them, he wasn't sure. "He's going to kill Adhemar. We've got to get there before he does."

Wat stared at her. He was no fan of Adhemar, that was for sure, and he'd be glad when the man was gone from their home, but to sit back and let him be murdered? Could he do that?

Kate stared up at him, a tiny frown curling her brow. She was upset, her dark eyes worried. "I don't like him anymore than you, Wat." Gently, she extricated her hand from his. "But I can't let a man murder another if I can help it."

He nodded and they hurried from the Fortier home. First, they'd go to Will. Then, they'd stop Fortier.

~~~~~~~~~~

Death had come.

John Adhemar sat up in bed and watched Death watching him. He knew it was Death because of the expression on the man's face. There was passivity and determination and finality all in that expression. He sighed. "Give me one moment to dress and move to the chair."

Death nodded. "Take your time Adhemar. We've some time to waste. Christiana was on her way up to the manor. She told me in passing that Jocelyn's labor has begun. She'll be up there awhile and I know no one else comes here at all. They don't want to fight you."

Adhemar nodded and pulled on his clothes. Had he been here that long? Was Jocelyn at nine months already? Or had something gone wrong for her and the child? He worked the closings of his shirt. It occurred to him that he'd not once caught a glimpse of Jocelyn since he'd been here. The lady of the manor hadn't bothered to come down and see the sick man who'd once fought over her. The thought didn't bother him at all. She was not his, so she was none of his concern.

His gaze found his deliverer.

He and Gilles Fortier had been at each other's throats for years, ever since Adhemar was old enough to go into battle. Fortier had referred to him constantly as 'upstart boy'. Once, that had bothered him, but now, Adhemar found himself almost smiling at the remembrance like it was something to be fondly revisited.

He got up and went to the chair, a mild sense of disassociation settled over him, numbing him. In minutes, Fortier would release him from his pain and that would be that. He'd be in the arms of the angels, or devils rather.

But he'd already been held in the arms of an angel.

He blinked. Christiana would find him dead. She'd cry pretty tears over his body and actually grieve over him. Of this he had no doubt. Christiana, his ministering angel, would cry over the loss of him. She would care what happened to him; had cared. She'd nursed him through a fever that should have taken his life. Christiana had cared for him as though the force of her determination -- her own will -- would keep him alive.

On all the face of the earth, there was one person who would shed genuine tears over his demise.

Steel touched his chest, Fortier marking where he'd thrust the blade.

In that second, John Adhemar decided there was a possibility he wasn't ready for death after all. Death the persona slipped away and he looked up at his familiar nemesis, wondering how to stop this. It was too late, he knew. He was a dead man already and had simply walked into his end without a fight.

Then, the most amazing thing occurred.

~~~~~~~~~~

Wat and Kate found Will in the upstairs hall outside the master's chambers. Jocelyn was in labor, they could hear her screams loud and clear though the closed door. Will had his arms crossed and a look of sheer terror upon his handsome face. Kate wanted to go to him and tell him it was going to be okay, but they had business to take care of.

"Will, you're needed," Wat hissed urgently, motioning to Will to come with them.

Christiana came from the room, closing the door behind her. "She's perfectly fine. It shouldn't be long now."

"Will listen!" Kate grabbed his tunic and jerked him about to face her. Annoyance glinted in his eyes. "Gilles is going to kill Adhemar."

"What?" Christiana's gaze was sharp and clearer than Kate had seen in a long time. "Why?"

Quickly, Kate gave her story. She'd scarcely finished when Christiana took off at a full run towards the stairs. Wat shoved Will after her, yelling for him to take care of the matter and promising to stay there. Kate followed, pushing Will's back with her hands to convey the urgency of the situation. As they passed through the Great Hall, Christiana hooked one arm through Simon Adhemar's. He dropped the cup he'd been sipping from, but didn't protest.

Kate prayed they'd get there in time.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Halt!"

Gilles glanced up, a second before shoving his sword into this pathetic excuse for a man and ending Adhemar's misery. In the door, were William, Christiana, Kate and a young man who greatly resembled Adhemar. A brother perhaps? "Why should I? He sits here, not even defending himself, this man who once defeated my company in battle. He wants death. Why should it be denied him?" His glance lingered on Kate. Resourceful woman. He wondered how she'd gotten past the guard he'd posted on her.

The young man resembling Adhemar spoke. "I'll pay double to keep him alive what you were promised to kill him."

Hmm. Kate had apparently told all she knew. "No miserly sum." Gilles named the original price, then doubled it in accordance, noting the young man's alarm at the figure. "Have you such wealth, boy?"

A dry chuckle escaped from Adhemar's throat. "He doesn't. Not yet. Where is the lawyer when you need him, ehh Simon?"

He drew the sword back apace. "Your brother," he asked, receiving an affirmative nod from Adhemar in response. "So you've got to pay for your own life from his noble gesture? I won't wait for a lawyer to transfer rights."

Adhemar's glance flitted to his brother, mildly apologetic. "Be sure you're not wasting noble gestures on those who don't want them Simon."

Gilles pulled the sword back further, waiting patiently for the protest young William would now make.

Adhemar continued, shifting in the chair. "Whenever you're ready Fortier. I'm comfortable."

"No!"

The protest was not from William, or even from Simon or Kate, but rather Christiana. She flung herself forward, heedless of the steel that barely missed her side. Gilles took a step back. Christiana put herself between him and Adhemar, curling her arms about the arms of the chair and resisting Adhemar's efforts to move her. To Gilles' eyes, the man didn't look to be trying very hard though.

"Get off me, woman," Adhemar growled.

"No, I will not."

Gilles rolled his eyes and sighed, resting the tip of his sword on the ground and using it like a staff. A simple kill had turned farcical. "Anyone else," he drawled.

"I nursed you back to health and I'll not stand by and let you die." Christiana hooked a slender ankle about Adhemar's calf, her face set in a stubborn expression Gilles suddenly recognized as his own.

Like father, like daughter, he thought. "Christiana dear, kindly get off the man so I can kill him."

"I will not. You'll have to kill me too."

Kate was smirking. "Sentiment has no place in the middle of a job," she said, raising her brows at the narrowed glare Gilles shot her. "Isn't that so?"

"Be silent," Gilles sneered. "As a woman properly should be."

Through it all, William said not one word.

"Why, Christiana dear, should I not run him through. Make it a good reason please, something along the lines of 'I've suddenly come into some money and can pay the amount proposed'. No spouting of undying love and devotion that is meaningless in the face of a paying contract."

She gave him a cross look. "You're horrible."

"So I've been told."

"I'd move her if I'd the strength to, Fortier, believe me. I've no wish to continue existing." One hand swept Christiana's hair from his face. Despite the protestation, Gilles noticed the man was no longer attempting to remove the maid from his lap. Indeed, he seemed quite content to sit and watch the events unfold around him. His voice was also strangely...cheerful.

Gilles shifted his gaze to those still in the doorway. "Simon, is it? How much are you able to pay boy?" The sum stated was much less than the double proposed, barely over what the contract itself was to pay. Now, Gilles turned to Kate. "I assume, since you ran here, that you wish this man to live?"

She paused, then nodded. "He's not the same man you fought before. It wouldn't be right to kill him."

He gave a roll of his eyes in opinion of that sentiment. "Simon is willing to give his funds, Christiana her life. What are you willing to give?"

There was no answer.

Gilles turned his attention to William. "And you, William. Would you save this man that you've freely admitted tried to kill you himself? If places were reversed, I'm certain he'd not hesitate to let me kill you."

The young man stared at him. There was such a struggle on his face that Gilles felt a tiny stab of pity for him. It must be hell at times to have such high standards for oneself. He saw indecision, a hint of anger and finally resolve.

"I saved him once. I'll do it again if I'm able."

"You call him friend then?"

"No. We are not friends, but I believe we understand one another a bit better than we once did."

Gilles studied the young man and nodded, sheathing his sword. "The money, Simon, if you please."

"That's it," Kate asked and he smiled sadly.

"What did I tell you? I said I'd consider a better offer. One was made and accepted." He sighed, casting a glance at Adhemar. "Business Adhemar. You understand."

The man shrugged his brows. "Of course."

When it became apparent that this was not some new ploy to remove Christiana from Adhemar's lap so Gilles could kill him, Christiana eased herself up to stand. Her hands were shaking and when her legs would not hold her, Adhemar's hands steadied her.

It's inevitable, Gilles thought, noting that touch. Though still obviously sick, Adhemar had an attachment to Christiana and vice-versa. It was subtle and neither probably realized it as yet, if they ever would. Too bad he couldn't stay and see her happy. Then again, it was far too late to actively portray a fatherly mien. Just the knowledge that she was strong enough to get past her grief would have to do.

"Gilles," William began, looking extremely put out. "You are not welcome here any longer."

"I assumed such. For what it's worth, my men disobeyed orders. You were more lenient with them than I would have been."

"I had them killed." Regret in Will's eyes.

"Yes, but I would have tortured them first." He went to the door. "Tell Jocelyn whatever you think she's strongest to hear, whether it's truth or not." He stretched out a hand, touching Kate's shoulder. "A word, Mistress Kate."

She glared at him. "Not unless you swear you're not going to toss me over your horse and drag me away."

Was he that transparent? "Must I swear?"

"Yes."

He gave a sweeping glance at all who listened and realized he was going to have to let the succulent Kate go. She'd not leave with him and he doubted he'd get far were he to try taking her. "Very well."

They walked a few paces from the cottage, out of earshot, but not sight.

"You could come with me, Kate."

"And find myself in some far off place when someone you've angered manages to kill you? Or have to live with that male superiority attitude you kept hidden for so long? I won't be told to remain silent, Gilles. That's not who I am."

The hurt in her eyes was a slight pain in his chest. For all of his true opinions and ways, he really had enjoyed her. She had refreshed him and it was a disappointment to leave her behind.

"You used me, Gilles. I can't forgive that."

He cupped her face between his hands, bending and taking one last kiss from her. "I know. Live well, Kate." Gilles Fortier took his leave from the Thatcher property.

He did not look back once and by the time his wagons set out from his home, he'd put all thoughts of Kate from his mind. There were other women and other places and he still had life left within his body.

No regrets.