Emerald Knight

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Then she heard the laughter of her son as he played in the earl’s arms. Looking to the boy, she saw a flash of every moment she’d ever had with Wolfe. Its sweetness overwhelmed her with intensity. Her mouth opened with a pained gasp for air. Her eyes teared but didn’t spill over.

  Her pallid expression met again with William’s. He waited patiently for her, silently considerate of her plight. He didn’t look to her to hurry. Slowly, he gave her a smile and nodded his head. The priest repeated himself in low tones a third time.

  “I, Lady Ginevra of Whetshire...” she began at the man of God’s prompting. She paused and swallowed hard. I can’t do this. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t...

  “Then what God has joined let no man tear asunder,” the priest concluded. “You are man and wife. Claim your bride.”

  The family was quiet as William leaned to his new wife’s face. Lightly pressing his lips to hers, he drew back. Ginevra’s wide eyes didn’t close. The press of William’s mouth held none of the passion she had with his brother. She swallowed hard. She did it. She’d married William.

  A tear finally managed to fall over Ginevra’s cheek. William lifted his fingers to brush it away. His sad eyes held a tender compassion. Ginevra knew it was not fair to William to compare him to Wolfe. He was a good man. He was honorable. He was her new husband.

  William lifted her arm and placed it on his. Leading her forward, he couldn’t help the gloating smile as he glanced at Lord Eilric. The man growled angrily and stormed from the chapel. Ginevra watched him leave for the courtyard with relief. William nodded his head to Robert to follow the man out.

  “Let us go to our feast, Gin,” William said softly as the family walked behind them. The others kept back, letting them speak. “I promise to get you abovestairs before too long.”

  If it had been any other man, Ginevra would have though his intent unseemly. But she knew William only meant to get her out of the crowd’s notice. She nodded, squeezing his arm in appreciation. She couldn’t speak.

  When they neared the main hall, the gathering cheered. Knights pounded their fist on the tables laden with food. The servants clamored with excitement. Ginevra clutched William’s arm and forced a smile as she gazed over the crowd. Their cheering heightened.

  Only after an appropriate pause did William continue to guide her forward. The hall smelled of roasted mutton and spiced vegetables, of fresh loaves of seasoned bread melting with churned cream butter. Hunks of cheese and pitchers of mead littered in-between the heavy trenchers. The knights raised their goblets. One of them called a toast to the newlyweds. His words were met with cheers and well wishes.

  Ginevra tolerated the noise with a smile and regally polite nods. William kept her hand on his arm as he waved his thanks to the onlookers. And, as the gathering settled a bit into their celebrating, Ginevra was allowed to sit.

  Robert drew her attention from her side. Touching her arm, he asked, “Are you well, Gin?”

  Ginevra looked at him. For a glimpsing moment, he saw the true depths of the pain she had been hiding from them all. Her emerald eyes swam in misery--more than he could understand. In her gaze, he saw her heart reflected in the luminous depths and it was broken.

  Swallowing, he pulled away from her without explanation. Ginevra turned her eyes forward again. Her lips curled into a false smile as she watched the men drink. In her head, she concentrated on counting the minutes until bed, and no one tried speaking to her again.

  Cheers echoed the tower passageway with the light-hearted teasing and merrily spoken jests of the men as they left William to his bride. William chuckled to himself as he closed the door. Turning, he looked at Ginevra sitting demurely on the bed. His humor faded some as he looked at her. This was not the wedding night he’d pictured in his mind as a child. His bride didn’t look scared, but she didn’t seem very excited to see him either.

  “Did you know that this used to be my chamber before you arrived?” William asked pleasantly. He strode across to glance out the slit window. Idly, he added, “Mother thought it best to boot me out and give it to you.”

  “Yea, she told me,” Ginevra asserted. “Thank you for letting us come here instead of the other tower.”

  “I thought you might be more comfortable here where not so many guests will pass by.” William turned to her. He studied her intently for a long moment. Her eyes were dry and lifeless. Her lush lips managed a kind smile. Lightly, he bid, “Why don’t you come here?”

  Ginevra dutifully stood. Her long nightgown trailed around her body in a wave of sweeping material. Stepping close to him, she leaned her head back some. William looked at her and sighed.

  “Mayhap you should try kissing me.” Her green eyes watched him earnestly. He could see she was trying. “It might help.”

  William leaned to her and pressed his mouth to hers. Parting her lips with his tongue, he deepened the kiss. There was no feeling behind the embrace for either of them. With a half smile, William pulled back.

  “I was hoping this would be easier for you,” he admitted. “I’m not so unskilled a lover. I can be however you need me to be. Slow. Quick. Gentle.”

  “I know,” Ginevra began. Suddenly, she cried. Falling into William’s chest, she said, “You deserve better. I shouldn’t have married you. It was selfish of me to do so.”

  “Don’t think like that,” William soothed quietly. His hands found her back in a small caress. “I married you, too. Let us be honest?”

  Ginevra nodded but didn’t look up at him. He felt her hand shift to swipe at her nose.

  “I promised Wolfe I’d look after you if aught ever happened to him. He saved my life. In marrying you I have fulfilled my duty to my brother.” William moved a finger under her chin to lift her teary eyes. “But I do care for you. I always have. So I think this marriage has a chance to be better than most.”

  “It’s always a thing of duty with you men,” she whispered. The words weren’t accusing. Ginevra understood well the meaning of duty.

  “Yea, duty keeps us together. It’s what gives us direction in life. Never hate Wolfe for doing what he must. I think he wouldn’t have left you if he had a choice to do otherwise.” William left her briefly to grab a fresh bathing linen from a nearby table. Handing it to her, he waited as she blew her nose and wiped her face. “I want you to know that after you, he took no other to his bed. He was faithful to you ’til he died. Many women did try. While gone, he banished every woman from his tent without a backward glance or moment’s thought.”

  “All these years,” she murmured. The news did give her some small comfort. In her darker hours away from him, she had wondered if he found companionship to get him through the night. The fact that he hadn’t done so said much.

  “I’m sorry I can’t give you more of myself,” she sniffed. Her mind automatically thought of all the nights she had spent with Wolfe. He was so passionate, so gentle, violent, and sweet. “It’s still not mine to give.”

  “Gin, I told you I understand. Never be ashamed of your love for Wolfe. I understand, for he was my brother. I love him too. After tonight, you will be free of me for a time. But we must make this marriage stand. I would have it legal,” William finished with a murmur against her soft hair. His gut twitched nervously. His bride was lovely, but she was never really his to hold in such a way. Only by the cruelty of fate was he with her now. “I don’t want any to disclaim it.”

  Ginevra steeled herself. Wiping defiantly at her wet cheeks, her eyes sparkled with tears. She sniffed lightly and threw the bathing linen aside. Taking a deepened breath, she said, “All right. I will try. Mayhap if we kissed again. And this time, don’t stop. Just keep going.”

  William nodded, granting her request. Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her again. He lifted his fingers to rest on her shoulders in a gentle caress. Ginevra returned his light embrace, trying to get used to him. Unbidden, she again thought of Wolfe. Silently, she wondered if it would be a sin to think of him a
s she consummated with his brother. In her heart, she knew it wasn’t fair to either of them. But in the logic of her mind, she knew it might be the only way she could go through with it.

  After a moment, his lips still pressed along hers, William lifted his bride to the bed. Laying her gently, they closed their eyes and proceeded to do what needed to be done.

  Ginevra left William in her chamber. Already the man slept. However, she couldn’t find rest lying next to him. Her body ached with a longing for Wolfe. Her heart screamed until the sound hummed like a drum in her ears. Numbly, she fingered the wall, as she rose step by step to the tower. The stairwell was dark in the night hours. But she had walked the steps countless times and didn’t need to see. Her hand ran across Thomas’ bedchamber. The familiar lock clinked softly as she passed.

  She refused to think about what she had done. It pained her to even remember. Ginevra was past crying, but her eyes swam with moisture anyway.

  Emerging from the dark passage she came face to face with the quartered moon. A ring of light shined around the dark side of the terrestrial globe. She stepped forward, drawn mysteriously to the edge by a force beyond herself. As her stomach hit the high part of the battlement, she stopped. Looking down in surprise, she saw the earth spiraling far beneath her.

  Then, she suddenly understood what had drawn her to the tower roof. She knew what her heart had brought her to do. Her son was now looked after. The boy had a good father to watch over him. Though he might not understand her actions, he would be loved.

  Ginevra took a step up to the ledge. As she moved, the wind died down. Her heart pounded until it flooded her limbs and stamped out the sound from her ears with rushing torrents of blood. But it didn’t beat its frantic rhythm out of fear. It stamped a steady beat, echoing until the chant built in her head.

  Leap, Leap, Leap, the chant sang in repetitive insistence.

  “Leap,” she whispered. Spreading her arms wide, she tilted back her head in defiance of the moonlight. The white material of her gown stirred as the breeze picked up, whipping around her like the shroud of a walking corpse. The long tresses of her hair reached out from her head like that of a woodland fairy riding on the wind. Picturing Wolfe, she smiled. Her eyes closed and she leaned forward.

  And that was it.

  The next instant, she was on her back looking up into the sky. Her lungs felt as if they breathed. Her body didn’t hurt and none of her limbs felt broken, as they should have been. She couldn’t even remember the fall. She smiled as she stared at the moon. Death wasn’t so bad as living.

  Slowly a face came to block the vision of the sky. A man leaned over her. His face was covered with a beard. His long hair was tousled and unkempt, his skin smudged with dirt and grime. Behind him the stars framed his face with their sparkling gem-like beauty. Fine lines marked the edge of the man’s eyes giving wisdom to the once youthful gaze. Ginevra wouldn’t have known him except for his familiar brown eyes.

  “Wolfe,” she whispered in rapturous trepidation. Her body held still, almost afraid he would disappear and float away into the stars. She wanted to lie forever on the earth, gazing at him. After a moment, she whispered quietly, “Are we ghosts? Am I dead?”

  Wolfe’s face suddenly curled into a confused frown. Ginevra slowly sat up to study him. He took a step away, not helping her to her feet. She didn’t notice as she moved before him. Instantly, she realized she was back on top of the tower. The wind caressed her body careless and free.

  “I knew I’d find you,” she put forth in a rush. Her hand rose slightly at her side only to fall. Her eyes searched him, wondering why he looked angry with her.

  “Have you gone daft woman?” he asked abruptly. “What do you think you are about? Jumping from the tower--”

  “I had to,” she broke in with a smile. “I couldn’t bear to live--”

  “Stop it! You could have killed yourself! It’s the coward’s way!” he screamed in outrage. Then, lowering his voice, he shook his head. “Have you gone mad?”

  “I’m not crazy. I must be dead. Look, you’re here.” Ginevra made a move to hold him. He angrily dodged her arms.

  “Well, I’m certainly not dead,” he stated icily. He put his hands on his hips and tapped them with his restless fingers.

  “Oh, yea you are. You died in the war. Have you been up here all this time? I thought I would’ve felt you.” Ginevra tried to smile but, when he laughed mockingly at her, she couldn’t. Her gut twitched in disappointment. Her lips trembled in confusion only to close.

  Striding over to her, Wolfe grabbed her roughly by the arm. Shaking her with a violent force, he spat, “Can you feel this?”

  “Yea,” Ginevra gasped in pain as her eyes lulled in her snapping head. “But--”

  “But nothing,” he seethed. His eyes flashed with a fire she didn’t remember seeing in him. Barring his teeth, his fingers raised and curled, as if he might like to choke her. With much restraint, he kept his hands from her throat.

  Without warning, Wolfe dashed forward to claim her lips. Almost savagely, he kissed her. He couldn’t stay his hands as they found her soft skin. Ginevra gasped, instantly lifting her palms to cup his face. The rough whiskers crushed beneath her fingers. Just as quickly, he pulled away from her with a ragged breath. Suddenly, his words sunk in. Her face grew pale. Her eyes fixed upon his every movement. The heat of his embrace stung her. Whispering darkly, she established, “You are alive.”

  “Very much so,” he stated with an impertinent wave of his hand. Only the continued stiffness of his movement gave away his deep anger.

  “And I am alive,” she whispered in growing alarm. Ginevra shook her head in denial. She panted, trying to catch her breath. She thought of William.

  “Ah, welcome back to reality, my dear.” Wolfe stepped to the side in a bout of unconfined fury, forcing her to draw about in a circle to keep an eye on him. She followed him with her head before turning her feet. When he was between her and the edge, he stopped.

  “Oh, nay. The king wrote to us. He said you were hanged.” Ginevra swallowed. “Why have you come back from the grave now?”

  “It’s nice to see you, too,” he answered flippantly, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. A snarl fitted on his lips as he waggled his finger toward her. “The king sends his deepest apologies.”

  “Wolfe,” she began, only to gasp in dread. He stalked to and fro in front of her. Her fingers shook as she lifted them to push a strand of hair out of her face. Blinking heavily, she whispered, “I have to tell you someth--”

  “How’s your new husband?” he shot into her confession with a cruel smirk. “Did you enjoy your wedding night wife? Did he pleasure you? Or was this only a formality to be gotten out of the way? Had you taken him to your bed before now?”

  “You know?” Ginevra gasped in mortification. “Why didn’t you stop it?”

  “I thought it was on the morrow. But it seems you couldn’t wait to replace me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Ginevra eyed the man before her. He was dressed in ill-fitting trousers that buckled at the knees and hugged too firmly to his strong calves with a long tunic that had more holes burrowed in the material than stitches. She relished the sight of him. His hair spiked as if he hadn’t seen a comb for months and his skin clung to his frame begging any whom would take pity on him for a meal to round out their harsh contours. But there, in the sharpened and harried depths, was the familiar curve of his lips and the well-known slant of his narrowing eyes.

  “You are supposed to be dead,” she whispered by way of explaining.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, wife.” Wolfe planted his hands on his hips. “But I’m alive and I am here to claim back what is mine.”

  “But, what of--?” Ginevra looked over her shoulder in confusion.

  “I suspect that your new groom will have to meet with the end of my sword if he protests.” Wolfe shot her a cruel smirk. He took a menacing step forward.<
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  “You would kill him?” she gasped. You would kill your own brother? You are more changed than I thought.

  “If I have to, I just might. Seeing how I am too late to stop the wedding.” Wolfe darted forward, suddenly grabbing her by her long soft hair. “Tell me, wife. Did you even cry for me? Did a single tear fall from those green eyes of yours?”

  “Stop it! You’re being cruel.” Ginevra twisted to be free of his hurtful hold. She placed her arms against his chest and beat on him. “Damn you, Wolfe! Damn you! You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

  “Too late, princess,” he laughed. The sound held no merriment, only dark intent. “I’ve been to hell. I’ve lived in it. And I will never go back there.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “The king bartered for me. He owed me for saving his life,” Wolfe said.

  Seeing his tortured gaze, she stopped struggling. Closing her eyes, she relaxed her neck to his brutal hold. Her head snapped back and she moaned lightly.

  “Am I to be the first thing you claim?” Her body hummed with excitement at the prospect. Her lips parted. Even in her shame, she wanted him near her. The fact that he was touching her was all too new, too confusing to comprehend completely.

  Wolfe eyed her in disgust. Throwing her offered mouth away from him, he watched in grim pleasure as she stumbled backward. Her back hit against the side of the archway. If she had been a bit more to the right, she would have fallen down the stairwell to her death.