Her body was still singing in the aftermath, yearning for more. But that would not do. Gwen should not have allowed it—not allowed a glimmer of something that could not be between them. It would be unfair to both of them. She might be intent on new beginnings, but it was not the one that Ralph had inadvertently alluded to tonight. Yet she was reluctant to move from this place and return to the path she had set out for herself.
* * *
Ralph sighed deeply and lay beside her, his head touching hers, wondering whether he should apologise. She had locked herself up again behind the wall she had built, so rigidly, that it was difficult to penetrate. Yet he had just moments ago.
Mayhap he should not have done it, but he couldn’t resist her as she lay beneath him with that look of indignation on her face. He had to wipe it away and a kiss was as sure a way to do that as any other. He had not missed her reaction to him—that same desire and longing that coursed through his blood as well. And she had welcomed his kisses and returned them with so much ardour and passion that, in the end, he was forced to stop what he had started and allow her a moment to gather herself. Otherwise they would have both tumbled over a precipice, with no recourse. He did not want to take away that decision, especially after only recently reacquainting with one another again.
He opened his mouth to say words that needed to be said when her hand found his, her fingers lacing through, giving them a gentle reassuring squeeze.
‘Please do not say anything,’ she murmured. ‘Not about what just happened.’
‘Very well.’ But, no, he couldn’t think of a way to dispel the awkwardness. His whole being, body and soul, was still throbbing with need. Ralph wanted her like no other time before. He wanted her at his side, in his bed, together...
Hell’s teeth.
Instead, he would lie here beside her in the quietness of the night, with her hand in his, trying to push away these redundant thoughts.
‘Do you know,’ she whispered, breaking the silence, ‘it has been a very long time since I stared at the night sky.’
‘What do you see?’ he whispered.
‘A vast endless chasm.’
His lips tugged at the corners. ‘Ah, I’m impressed at your observation.’
‘I hope you’re not mocking me, Ralph de Kinnerton?’
‘Not in the least. I’m admiring such a lyrical ode to the moon, the stars and that endless night.’
‘You ask to be privy to my thoughts and then deride them? For shame.’
‘No, just a little teasing, I assure you.’ He lifted her hand to his lips as she smiled, shaking her head.
‘You know, Ralph, you were quite right earlier when you mentioned our insignificance compared to such incredible wonder.’
‘Yet I was looking down from the tree, rather than up at the heavens. I was realising the enormity of what I still need to achieve.’ He sighed. ‘My observations were the magnitude of earthly, more temporal considerations rather than divine ones, Gwen.’
This was the moment that he could ask her to tell him everything. Disclose the very things that he still did not understand about Gwenllian ferch Hywel. He wanted so much to gain an insight, a possible reason why Gwen wanted to take the veil, and here was the chance. She could confide in him and explain her calling, using the same language, same passion that she had shown when she had described the processes needed to create the pages of her decorative parchment.
Yet, would she?
Ralph doubted it. For that same passion she showed in her intricate art where she evidently left pieces of herself, hell, even the way she kissed were from an earthlier proclivity.
Nothing, nothing in the way she behaved expressed a calling that he would assume that she would have. However hard he tried, Ralph could not see her take vows that would renounce worldly goods and devote herself solely to prayer.
Then again, it was possible that it had more to do with him and the difficulty he was having in accepting the idea of Gwen taking the veil. He found it hard to reconcile himself to that. The night’s sky might be endless as Gwen described, but this, their time together, would soon be over.
Ralph allowed the silence to extend as he stared at those same damn stars, wondering on everything that had happened this night. He tried to settle into the tranquillity, this stillness that had descended after the gruelling difficulty of the mêlée, after sparring with Gwen...after kissing her senseless.
God, how he wanted to kiss her again, his whole body, tight with need.
Ralph should be at peace, lying on the ground beside her with her hand in his, yet the questions were burning inside him. He felt anything but tranquil.
‘Gwen?’ He turned his head. ‘Why didn’t you come with me that night I left Kinnerton? Why did you stay behind?’
She swallowed uncomfortably.
‘I... I believe I told you. Did I not?’
He could see it on her face. Her mounting anxiety flickered like a flame. Ralph felt like shaking her into talking to him, but tempered his voice instead.
‘No, I’m afraid that I never did understand your reasoning. I still do not, my lady.’
She sat up and tried to untangle her hand from his, but he held on to it, refusing to let her withdraw. This was a way for Gwen to evade answering him again. But ever since they had found each other again, and become close, he had wanted to know.
Why had she not gone with him? It was a question that plagued him, even after all this time.
Ralph could still recall the heightened emotions of six years ago when he had been forced to hide in the woods outside Kinnerton Castle. His cousin had taken control of the whole area after Ralph and a few of his men had gone to bring back his father’s body, after the old lord had died in vain trying to plead his innocence from the charges of treason. And by the time Ralph had returned, his ancestral castle and lands had been lost. Ralph remembered getting a message through to Gwen, with great difficulty, to meet him in the woods and the relief he’d felt at seeing her well and unharmed. But then it had all gone disastrously wrong when she had refused to run away with him.
Ralph had been raw with grief and so enraged by his cousin’s betrayal that he’d believed everything Gwen had said that night when she told him to leave without her. And eventually he had, taking with him all the bitterness, anger and resentment, which also extended to the woman who was sat beside him now, for six long years.
However, everything had changed once Ralph met Gwen again, here at this tournament. His understanding of that night had somehow shifted. He had a certain knowledge now that he did not back then. For one thing, Gwen had not, under the guise of duty, harboured a cold ambition to be the Lady of Kinnerton, without caring who its lord would be, as he was led to believe. That had been the reason given back then.
Now he knew better. Gwen’s refusal to leave with him and escape the imminent peril at that time had been for different reasons entirely. Circumstances that she was now reluctant to discuss. Again, he could not understand why. It had been just as dangerous for her as it had been for him, yet when Tom had asked her on his behalf, at that encounter in the hall, Gwen had dismissed the notion, simply stating that her reasons were to protect Ralph.
He had been so shocked to see her again here at the tournament and wanted nothing to do with her initially, but he hadn’t really acknowledged what she had said that night at the banquet.
Ralph had been so adamant about maintaining his indifference that he had not allowed himself to question what she had said more deeply. It had been since their friendship began to thaw and become more companionable that these uneasy questions about Gwen and that time had come to the fore once again.
‘Tell me, Gwen. What did I need protection from?’
He watched as the colour from her face drained and she slowly turned her head to meet his. ‘I... I am not sure what you mean.’
‘Yo
u told Tom that you stayed behind to protect me. Remember?’
Of course she did.
‘What does it matter now?’
‘To understand more. That is all.’ Ralph cupped her cheek with his hand, his fingers grazing her cheek. ‘As I said, I never comprehended the reason why you had not run away with me back then. And when you explained it had been to shield me...well, you can imagine how it shamed and humbled me to know that. The question is what or whom you believed you were protecting me from? And why you didn’t confide in me at the time?’
‘How has this conversation come about?’
‘My intention is not to make you uneasy.’ He shook his head. ‘But know that this has not been discussed. I am as much in the dark now as I was back then.’
‘Then pray, let’s leave it. Let us not spoil this evening by talking of such darkness.’
He could not do that, not after finally broaching this conversation. ‘Was it my cousin? Did you believe that you were somehow protecting me from Stephen le Gros?’
Ralph watched as her jaw clenched and a slight gasp escaped her lips at the mention of the bastard’s name.
She snatched her free hand from his grasp and stood, walking back towards Fortis. ‘I cannot believe that you would foul the night air by uttering his name.’
He followed her and stilled her elbow. ‘How, Gwen? How could you have ever protected me from him?’
Somehow he knew that her reluctance to explain what had happened had something to do with Stephen le Gros. And his heart sank at the thought.
She turned slowly around to face him and eventually spoke. ‘He made a promise that if I stayed and I did not leave with you, that he would let you leave Kinnerton peaceably.’
He looked at her through a narrow gaze, trying to add meaning to her words. Understand the events from six years ago.
‘How did you make him keep his bargain?’ She remained silent. ‘Gwen?’
She lifted her head. ‘I... I promised to marry him.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘But you did not.’
‘No, I did not.’ She hissed through her teeth. ‘I managed to run away before he could force me to, gaining the protection of the Crown, who were keen to profit from my lands.’
‘I see.’ Yet there was something niggling at him. Something that was still missing from what she had just disclosed.
Gwen stepped away, taking a deep shaky breath. ‘Can we please go back? I find that I’m a little fatigued now from this diversionary outing. Sadly, my sense of adventure has long deserted me as I feared it would.’
Chapter Fourteen
Ralph swirled the wine in his mug, fascinated by the rich colour of ripened berries, before swigging it back. Rather than the sweet tart taste he expected, it tasted foul.
‘Do you not think you have had enough for one night, my friend?’ Tom yawned, sitting upright, dragging his hands through his hair. Ralph felt a niggle of guilt, knowing he had probably woken him up.
‘Go back to sleep, Tom.’
‘What is the matter? You have been dour and irritable all day.’
‘Nothing,’ he muttered, pouring more wine into his mug. ‘Is this a new batch?’ he said, trying to change the subject.
‘I would not know.’
‘Here, try some.’
‘My thanks but, no. I drank enough at the banquet, earlier.’ Tom rubbed his forehead. ‘And you should mayhap think about getting some sleep before the mêlée à cheval on the morrow.’
‘How right you are.’ Ralph sighed before knocking back the wine and wiping his mouth with his hand. ‘You are a good friend to me, Tom, do you know that? Not that I deserve it.’
Tom shook his head. ‘Whether you deserve it or not, Ralph, you’ll always have my fealty. You know that, after...well, after what you did for me in Poitiers.’
‘That was nothing and the debt you believe you owed me was paid a long, long time ago.’
‘Hell’s teeth, Ralph, are you worried about the practice today because, cometh the hour tomorrow, I know that you’ll be there with your sword in hand, blustering your way though.’
‘Bluster, eh?’ He smiled faintly at that.
‘You know what I mean.’ Tom frowned. ‘Tell me, does your current mood have anything to do with Lady Gwenllian? I noticed that she was absent from the banquet earlier.’
Ralph had not seen her since their interlude the night before, when it had all begun so promisingly after she had agreed to their midnight outing. They had ridden out in the moonlight, sparred with sticks, kissed breathlessly, talked and stared at the night sky. It all, however, ended in discomfort, with a chasm between them as they rode back to the castle in silence.
Since last night, Gwen had avoided him, making it clear that although she might care for him, there could be nothing more. That all there was between them was his promise to escort her on her journey to taking the veil. Nor had he gone in search of her or sought her outside her arched window. It seemed that Ralph’s attentions disconcerted her. Yet there was something more, something more disturbing about her reluctance to talk about the past and in particular their last night at Kinnerton that bothered him.
‘I feel like a blind man wandering around in the dark, when it comes to Gwen.’ He lifted his head. ‘All I know is that it all goes back to my cousin.’
‘It would. You saw the way he behaved that first night when she came to talk with me.’
‘Yes, but there’s more to it than that, but I just cannot see what it is.’
‘Whatever it may be, it can surely wait until after the mêlée à cheval, do you not think?’
‘Yes. It can wait.’ Ralph swallowed the remainder of his wine and grimaced. Lord, but it tasted bitter. But then everything did.
* * *
The extreme conditions on the day of the mêlée à cheval were absolutely horrendous. The rain had been thrashing the open fields so hard that visibility was becoming impossible for every knight on the field the following morn. And it was not letting up. The shallow fog added its own opaque film of obscurity.
God, but how different this place was from the last time Ralph had ventured out in the demesne with Gwen a few nights ago, underneath that clear moonlit sky—not that he had seen her since then, or this morning. Then again, who would venture out in this dire weather?
Ralph felt the annoyance thrum in his veins. He must turn all his attentions to the reason he had come back—to win silver from this damn tournament in an attempt to claim back Kinnerton—and stop incessantly thinking about Gwen and his last encounter with her. Yet it was easier said than done in this deluge that was threatening to bury them in heavy mud.
Hell’s teeth, what a nightmare.
Ralph blew a frustrated breath from beneath his helmet, barely able to see anything from this vantage point. The splattering thick mud was so thick and dense that Fortis had difficulty getting through it, yet the animal was equable and more reliable than Ralph was currently feeling. It was astonishing, but the terrible weather was the least of his troubles.
Ralph blinked several times and widened his eyes in an attempt to survey the area around him, but his field of vision was progressively getting blurred, not that it was easy to see in any case. As well as his blurred vision, his insides churned around, coiling and twisting in agony. He leant forward, hoping to gain more support from the saddle seat and Fortis’s neck, but he felt progressively unsteady.
He did not feel well. It had started last night when he had writhed around in his pallet, unable to sleep. He hadn’t disclosed his symptoms to anyone, believing that it was a bout of apprehension after being so distracted at practice. He hoped that the malady would pass, if he ignored it. But it had not. The longer the day wore on the worse he felt.
He swayed slightly just before he saw a knight in his periphery charging at him with his sword. Ralph’s heart palpi
tated as he drew his sword up in a line of defence. Even his trusty sword, however, felt as though it was carrying the weight of the world. What was happening to him? He felt like a sot, inebriated to the point that he couldn’t control his faculties. But Ralph had not drunk that much, had he? The other man was suddenly there, attacking him with his blunt sword which Ralph somehow defended. God, but now he saw double, nay, triple the knight. The man tried to force Ralph back in an attempt to unhorse him, but he just held firm. For now.
Christ above, he could not hang on for much longer. He countered another strike of the knight’s sword as it clashed against his in the rain. Again and again the bastard came at him, but Ralph defended himself against each blow, before drawing his horse close enough so that he could strike him when he least expected it.
Fortis managed to jump through the squelch of mud that had rendered his movement to a halt momentarily so that they could get away before another counter-attack. But the respite had been far too brief.
Ralph was not sure how he managed to remain mounted on his horse as he swayed violently, moving back and forth, unsteady and unsettled. From somewhere to his right, he felt a blow and he was jolted so hard, he fell from his horse, the soft muddy ground cushioning his fall. He managed to get to his feet, staggering forward in search of his horse in the mayhem, but he could not see him.
Oh, God...oh, God... Where was Fortis?
Ralph could not afford to lose his horse. Fortis? Where was he?
He might have been taken or, worse, injured. He looked in every direction desperately.
‘Fortis?’ Ralph muttered. His name stuck in his throat. ‘Where the hell are you, boy?’ But he was nowhere to be found.
His boots were stuck in the mud, making progress impossible. He started panting and shaking uncontrollably, knowing he could not move anyway. God above, but he was gripped by something intense, dark and deadly.
Ralph sensed someone approach and spun around to the left, only to feel someone punch him hard on his back and again in his stomach, the fine chain hauberk absorbing some of the shock, but not enough. Not nearly enough.
The Return of Her Lost Knight Page 15
