“But, just as you would seek Ceri’s forgiveness for doubting her, I must seek yours for a greater crime wrongly committed.”
Tal’s eyes warily narrowed but he motioned for the other man to explain.
“I blamed Westbourne, your mother, and you as its lord, for the tangled morass my life became after Vevina refused to promptly return to Llechu and wed with me,” Lloyd valiantly admitted. “Then after years with that resentment festering inside, I was too easily encouraged to wreak vengeance upon you for losses whose source was in reality my own misdeeds.”
Tal’s face remained an impassive mask but he chose not to interrupt Lloyd’s clearly painful admission of loyalties foresworn.
“I have never acted against you by my own hand.” Lloyd steadily met the earl’s unblinking gaze. “Yet I am guilty of leading a small party sent from Farleith into the Welsh forests from where they launched an attack against your hunting party.”
“You shot no arrows?” Tal’s respect was earned by the fact that the Welshman held his gaze unflinching even while revealing his part in a serious crime.
“Nay.” The response was immediate and unhesitating. “My wrong was in leading the archers to you—and I acknowledge that misdeed equally vile.”
“Were you also a part of the attack made on my patrol along Bendale’s border?”
Lloyd firmly shook his head. “That offense was committed by Sir Ulrich acting alone.”
Though unnecessary here was further proof that Ceri was right in believing his true foe was the former guard captain. Dark brows arched as Tal inquired, “How can you be certain of Sir Ulrich’s guilt?”
“In Farleith Keep Ulrich boasted of his villainy to Lord James.” A solemn Lloyd quietly stated, “I heard him.”
“Are you a frequent visitor to Farleith?” Tal asked the Welshman apparently willing, even anxious to give honest answers.
Lloyd’s shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. “Only since the night that Sir Ulrich’s brother Simeon freed me from these dungeons and led me there.” He rushed on to earnestly explain his honorable purpose. “I remained then and have returned since only in hopes of learning enough about Lord James’s vile schemes to see you forewarned. With a warning of looming dangers I hoped to demonstrate my sincere repentance for the part played in the first ill-deed and help prevent others more ominous.”
“You are loyal to my cause—again?” By the golden intensity of Tal’s penetrating eyes it was clear that he wanted to believe yet was wary of further treachery.
“Aye—” In a sign of renewed fealty Lloyd dropped to one knee and bowed his head, summoning the torch’s wavering flamelight to glow over the silver in dark curls. “But I accept the necessity for proving myself worthy of trust.”
“’Struth, and it’s a goal you can pursue by helping me with the challenge at hand.” Tal’s half-smile appeared although he quickly went on with another important question. “Were Lord James and his cohorts responsible for my abduction—and possibly the taking of Ceri?”
“Nay!” Lloyd firmly denied. “And that is a fact confirmed by how thoroughly subsequent events twice caught Lord James off guard. First, by the letter begging a postponement of betrothal rites in light of an illness suffered by his daughter as well as Lady Angwen. Second, by Sir Ulrich’s contradictory assurances that both ladies were in fine health.”
“Then my neighbors to the southeast are innocent of the latest wrong—but not of those committed earlier.” A slow, wry smile curled Tal’s mouth. “Which leaves two questions: What of those to the northeast? And in which direction should we focus our search?”
Lloyd’s smile reflected the cynical tilt of his lord’s. “After taking pains to be certain I’d be blamed for Ceri’s departure from the castle, her captors are unlikely to have spirited her away to any site between here and the Welsh border.”
“I agree,” Tal said. “At least one of those responsible for Ceri’s abduction is a tactician too skilled to risk a strategy so obvious.” From his own experience, Tal was far too familiar with precisely how manipulative Blanche was in all aspects of her life.
“Aye,” Lloyd nodded. “And because the pair from Bendale were the ones most anxious to press accusations against my daughter and me, I doubt Ceri will be found anywhere near their lands.”
Lloyd had discovered warm pleasure in openly claiming Ceri as his daughter and earnestly hoped that she would feel even half so proud of him as her father—when she finally learned the truth about this fact too long hidden from her.
“Then we ride toward Farleith Keep. They—” Tal met Lloyd’s gaze directly to be doubly certain they agreed that the culprits behind the most recent wrongs were Blanche and her young brother Morton. “They probably deem that area the least likely to be searched considering the traffic passing between here and there to negotiate the betrothal’s postponement.”
The earl and his erstwhile prisoner continued discussing specific plans for their search until at long last the castle settled into peaceful silence. Only then did Tal lead the way to the bottom of the stone stairwell where he extinguish his firebrand. The two men climbed upward, each with one hand against the stone wall to assure the rightness of their unlit path toward tunnel and exterior steps.
After the earl led his ally in descending to the courtyard, they were able to cross its open area unseen while guardsmen atop bailey walls intently watched for threatening movements beyond. On passing through hidden doors in those thick stone barriers Tal was pleased to find Thomas in the shadows a few paces beyond the final gate. The boy held the reins of two saddled horses he’d brought through postern doors to await his lord’s arrival. His squire had admirably succeeded in performing the difficult task of quietly leading first one and then another steed through the deep shadows beneath a parapet walkway where men stood guard.
Thomas’s attitude throughout this assigned task increased Tal’s trust in him. Although doubtless curious, the boy had restrained himself from asking why the castle’s lord bothered with such secrecy. For that restraint Tal had rewarded Tom with the brief explanation that it was best to avoid rousing possibly dangerous questions in people of either dubious loyalty or unworthy intentions.
Tal was certain Thomas would perform his final part in this plan equally as well. It was a confidence proven justified after the boy slipped back into the courtyard. Tom set up such a ruckus that the attention of parapet guardsmen was distracted from the surrounding countryside long enough for Tal and Lloyd to gallop unnoticed into the dark woodland bordering tilled fields.
Because Lloyd had himself made clandestine trips to and from Farleith Keep, it was he who led the way through the forest without resorting to the well-traveled route which Ceri’s captors were certain to have avoided. The Welshman’s well-honed skills as a tracker were proven when he found several paths going to and from an abandoned cottage, a cottage betraying signs of having recently been host to intruders.
“There are hoofprints arriving and departing from the entry—but only a single, fresh trail left by small human feet leads away from a window on the back wall.”
The two men quickly shifted their focus to the rear of the cottage. There, on closer inspection of the tracks, it was agreed that it would be difficult to follow so erratic a course through dense vegetation while mounted. Both men swung down and tied their horses to sturdy saplings. They pursued the weaving trail on foot until it came to an abrupt and fearsome end at the edge of a precipice.
“Stay here while I go down to learn what manner of help is needed.” Tal gave the order even as he began a hasty yet careful descent into the gloom below. “If I cannot soon return with the one we seek, I’ll call out to tell you what more is needed to see Ceri safely retrieved. Follow only if you deem too much time has passed without word from me.”
Repressing the urge to also hasten down to his daughter’s side, Lloyd yielded Ceri’s beloved the right to be the first rescuer to reach her side.
After reaching the valley floor,
Tal visually followed the swathe of crushed grasses and broken bushes to a distressing sight. He rushed to kneel at his crumpled angel’s side and with shaking hands reached out, praying he would find the warmth of life still in her flesh.
As Tal’s fingertips brushed Ceri’s face, she turned her cheek into the warmth of his palm with a soft groan of pain.
“Ceri, sweeting—” Tal softly called while bending to press his lips against an ear buried beneath the ebony satin of her unrestrained hair. “Can you hear me?”
No response was forthcoming, and Tal pulled a short distance away to take a closer look at the scene. For the first time he noticed that Ceri’s hands were bound behind her back. Next he saw dark blood spots on the boulder less than a finger’s width from her temple. By this fact he realized that she had struck her head against the unyielding rock with such force that it had robbed her of right senses.
Tal calmed his immediate fears with the meager solace that leastways Ceri was alive. Alive meant hope. He quickly bent to rid her wrists of their bonds before setting about the task of seeing her safely lifted from this steep valley.
Lloyd appeared before Tal had gathered a sufficient quantity of fallen branches and supple willow fronds. Though the Welshman’s arrival had come with more haste than expected, Tal welcomed his aid and soon a litter was formed from sturdy limbs lashed together with willow switches.
After Tal gently laid the injured woman atop their improvised litter, together the men carried Ceri back to the top of the ravine. However, by the time they reached that site the impracticality of hauling Ceridwen the whole way back to Castle Westbourne in this manner was clear. A litter could be dragged behind one of their steeds but the trackless terrain was so rough that neither man could accept the possibility of such a journey inflicting greater harm on Ceri. Not now when the damsel’s restless movements lent hopeful signs of her awakening.
It was Tal who voiced an alternate plan. “There was a pallet of sorts in the abandoned cottage and, blessed with an unmoving place to rest, Ceri will surely regain her senses before dawn.”
Silver strands in dark curls caught stray beams of moonlight as Lloyd earnestly nodded his approval of the plan.
Both men were uncommonly strong and yet the return path was fraught with difficulties intensified by the strange patterns of light and shadow cast by moonlight falling through branches. Their trip sadly required more time than either wished to waste in getting Ceri safely into the cottage.
Once within cottage walls, Lloyd brushed shards of rotting wood from the pallet below its only window so that Tal could tenderly place the injured Ceri atop the straw-filled mat and cover her with his cloak.
Tal motioned Lloyd to the door. “I’ll stay with Ceridwen here until she wakes while you once more make your way to Farleith Keep—this time by your lord’s command.” He gave the man who’d sworn renewed loyalty a steady smile. “You were right in thinking that a spy in their midst may be Westbourne’s best defense.”
Before leaving his lord with Ceri, Lloyd wanted the man to understand something more. “Until this night only three people knew the identity of Ceridwen’s father—me, Mabyn, and Vevina.
“Not Ceri?” Tal was surprised.
Lloyd grimaced. “Now it’s nearly Ceri alone who doesn’t know, and I pray that when she learns of our blood bond she’ll forgive me the silence.”
Tal slowly shook his head. Vevina’s twin sister was Ceri’s mother and you are her father.…”
A smile filled with pain barely curled Lloyd’s lips. “When Vevina refused to return with me for our wedding, I returned to Dyffryn and drank so much ale that I was lost to right senses. Then when Gwynth came and offered all my beloved hadn’t, I fell. And in all the years that have followed neither Vevina nor her mother ever forgot or forgave my wretched mistake—not until I escorted Ceridwen here.
“But now Vevina and I have reconciled. We hope to soon plight the vows forgone so many years past.” Lloyd’s face fairly glowed with inner joy. “Vevina already loves Ceri as a daughter, and I am very proud to be her father.… I only hope that she won’t be ashamed to claim me as her father.”
With difficult confessions made, Lloyd turned and strode away. Tal lingered in the doorway to watch until the man disappeared into forest shadows. He was confident that the mere sight of his famous black destrier outside the cottage would warn away Ceri’s possibly returning captors.
On the pallet inside, Ceri opened her eyes and was disconcerted to find herself staring up at the sagging beams of a dilapidated cottage—again. She’d already escaped from this hovel once, hadn’t she? Blinking rapidly, she struggled to tame a confusion seeming to run wild. Had her captors found and hauled her back?
Hearing a sound at the door Ceri glanced in that direction and was amazed to find the man who had been the focus of too many fiery dreams. She sat up abruptly despite a faint throbbing in her head. Clearly, she must be dreaming still—a nightmare of abduction turned to sweet fantasy?
As Tal reentered the cottage he was startled yet elated to find Ceri sitting up and gazing at him from beneath faintly scowling brows.
“Ceri, you’re awake?” Tal rushed forward to take her face into his hands and gaze steadily into her eyes, praying to find lucidity there. “We were so worried—your father and I.”
“Father?” Ceri’s scowl deepened. Clearly this was some kind of delusion although whether pleasant dream or night-terror she wasn’t certain. But she did know she had no father, had never had a father … so plainly this was some mad flight of fantasy.
“Lloyd is your father,” Tal gently stated while lightly brushing her soft cheek.
“Nay.” Tendrils of Ceri’s black hair slid over Tal’s hand as she firmly shook her head. “He was to wed my mother’s twin sister.”
Tal nodded with a slight, rueful smile. “Neither your aunt nor grandmother found it easy to forgive Lloyd.”
“That’s why I wasn’t told?” Ceri suddenly understood with crystal clarity the reason for the strain between her lifelong guardian and Aunt Vevina. It was a revelation quickly followed by the realization that she embodied all of the pair’s bleakest troubles—troubles Ceri had wanted to heal but now knew she could only deepen.
“Lloyd has proudly proclaimed you his daughter and swears—I’m certain rightly—that Vevina loves you as her own.” Golden gaze glowing with sincerity, Tal added, “Both your aunt and grandmother are waiting in the castle and praying for your safe return.”
Ceri felt a fresh flood of confusion threatening to inundate her but she had no time to sort through this surging current of new information because Tal’s next words claimed her full attention.
“I plead your forgiveness for doubting you.” Tal gazed steadily down into her magical eyes. “My heart refused to believe you capable of either lies or treachery but as lord of Westbourne I must always uphold my responsibility to guard my people’s welfare.”
Ceri solemnly nodded. It was true that as their earl, Tal was obligated to think first of his people, not his own wishes … or hers. Too many lords either failed in meeting that trust or had no care to see it fulfilled for Ceri to feel anything but admiration for Taliesan’s choice to uphold that honorable duty.
“I pray you will forgive me for not listening first to my heart.” While Tal issued the earnest plea his dark gaze focused on tender, berry-bright lips with such potency that Ceri felt as if she’d been kissed.
“Your doubts only verify the honor of a lord’s concern for his own.” Ceri quickly assured Tal even while the golden fires in the depths of his eyes overwhelmed her with their blazing hungers.
Tal took pleasure in the unshielded revelation of growing need in mist-green eyes deepening to a shade as dark as a mysteriously shadowed forest.
Ceri gladly surrendered as Tal drew her fully into his embrace, loving the feel, the warmth, and the strength of his body. She helplessly lifted her mouth in mute offering to his.
As Tal leaned closer to study its ten
der perfection, breath caught in Ceri’s throat but sighed out on a whimper as he responded to her unspoken entreaty by brushing her mouth with his own even as he eased her back to lay across the bed. He tarried to press her soft, yielding lips apart and reclaim the nectar of a kiss he’d longed to taste again—a sweetness he could almost swear familiar from dreams even before she first entered Westbourne’s solar.
Ceri moaned with a fiery need renewed like banked coals stirred to revived flames. Flames that roared higher when he deepened the kiss even while quickly ridding her of unwanted clothes. Their loss eased the path of Tal’s hands in spreading a slow, searing path from her gently rounded hips, up her sides to the first slight swell of her breasts and then down again. A strong tremor shook Ceri as his hands moved fractionally closer, repeating light touches that were a fire of sweet torment to her.
Tal pulled a breath away to gaze down at the enticing angel. He watched Ceri arch in response to the pleasure of his touch, watched her drag in a deep breath as his palms returned to move more firmly against her aching bounty. Her raven black hair, flowing across the bed’s coverlet, was the perfect foil for her pale ivory and deep rose flesh.
Determined to repay torment in kind, Ceri burrowed slender fingers into the dark curls growing in a wedge across Tal’s powerful chest, pleasured in the feel of every steely muscle beneath.
Tal went rigid at Ceri’s touch but permitted the sweet torment of her curious journey over the hard planes of his body until soft lips following the path of her fingers settled with gentle seduction over a flat masculine nipple.
A harsh groan was torn from Tal’s throat as he crushed Ceri against his hard length. She welcomed his ferocity, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, smoothing her palms over the strong muscles beneath the satin skin of his back. Feeling the heavy beat of his heart, she twisted against him.
Another deep growl erupted from Tal, and his hands slid down a slender back to pull her even tighter against his aching need. Ceri pressed closer still and felt the shudder that went through him when she writhed in helpless response.
Memories of the Heart Page 19
