“No, oh, no,” Tal solemnly agreed. “Will stepped back and—”
“And accidentally fell,” Ceri completed Tal’s statement. “It was surely an accident and one for which you were no more responsible than you were to blame for my tumble down that hillside at whose foot you rescued me.”
The chill pain fogging Tal’s expression warmed beneath Ceri’s heartfelt argument and dissipated, leaving no trace. Her belief in his innocence was so heartfelt that, for the first time, Taliesan could believe it himself.
“My mother spoke true.” No matter the day’s hour, Tal reached out to pull Ceri from her chair and into his waiting embrace. “I am incredibly fortunate to have won your love.”
Epilogue
One sennight later a lush meadow far beyond Castle Westbourne’s bailey walls was host to an unusual vision of merriment.
As the luminous shades of a setting sun streaked the western sky, only the remnants of an extravagant banquet remained atop trestle tables covered in white linen and scattered across a green carpet of thick grasses.
Now at feast’s end quiet laughter and gentle banter drifted on the same gentle breeze which carried the faint perfume of wildflowers. Some among an amazingly diverse gathering of merrymakers sat on benches but most reclined on coverlets and bedfurs carried to this site and laid out on grass-cushioned ground.
“My promises I keep.” Tal whispered into the ear of his angel a moment before he lay back to rest on his elbows. “I gave my oath that ours would be the most memorable wedding celebration in all of Westbourne’s history. And in that, you can surely see, I have succeeded.”
Tal’s pleased claim was accompanied by a smile of such potency that it curled Ceri’s toes and lured her nearer. Yet in so public a place it was necessary to pull her attention from the devastating man who so easily held her in thrall.
To Ceridwen this summer eve was all of perfection, an ideal end to a day of delightful surprises and happy endings.
In a rare demonstration of approval, Gran Mab had met Ceri at the door of the bedchamber earlier shared by Edith and the lady of Bendale. She’d come to accompany her granddaughter down to the courtyard and on to the village church at whose door marital vows were traditionally exchanged.
To that happiness another joyful event had been added, one that further warmed Ceri’s heart. Vevina and Lloyd had joined the castle’s lord and new lady at the church’s portal to speak the words of commitment left unsaid decades too long.
After both that ceremony and the mass next celebrated inside the church, Tal had offered Lloyd a position in his garrison—if the Welshman and his bride chose to remain at the castle. The offer was firm proof that Lloyd had earned forgiveness for his betrayal and won his lord’s renewed trust. Still, Ceri had been relieved when the pair politely declined Tal’s suggestion, supported by his mother, that they stay in the Norman fortress.
The pair had decided instead on a return to Dyffryn. Ceri would sorely miss Lloyd and her Aunt Vevina. But, because Ceri had worried about Gran Mab being near abandoned so late in her life, she was pleased that aging woman wouldn’t be alone.
Ceridwen acknowledged the warm congratulations and gently teasing grins of the many gathered. But she was still adjusting to the combined admiration and remorse for past suspicions that also warmed their faces.
Uncomfortable as the focus of so many eyes, Ceri reminded herself that there were fine reasons for this gathering beyond the morn’s wedding rites. The whole of Westbourne had waited for this night to rejoice their defeat of the two neighbors on the eastern border and the rescue of former captives restored to their homes in villages and on farms. Those grateful former captives and their families were present to join in this day’s festivities.
Sensitive to the uneasiness of a bride unaccustomed to such admiration from their people, Tal gave her another promise. “There are matters that must first be addressed, but soon—very soon—we will be free to retreat to our chamber, alone.”
A blush warmed Ceri’s cheeks but her smile was blinding. Then while Lord Taliesan rose to his feet, her gaze dropped to a lap draped in the lovely new gown of misty green given by her groom who claimed its hue a match for her eyes.
“I have all of you to thank for your loyalty thoughout recent traitorous events.” Despite an audience scattered across the meadow, Tal’s words caught the attention of all. “And I drink a toast to you.”
Tal lifted a golden goblet high over head to honor his people before lowering it to take a long drink. Still at the center of attention, he spoke again.
“I have received word from Gloucester announcing Empress Matilda’s decision to cede the lands of both Farleith and Bendale to two of the most powerful among her supporters.”
These words sent a wave of hearty laughter to wash across the wide, green expanse already host to a joyous celebration.
“Aye,” Tal added once the noise lessened enough for him to be heard. “Both Lord James and Lord Morton will be far too busy fighting to hold on to their own fiefdoms to again turn covetous eyes upon Westbourne.”
Another wave of satisfied laughter swept over the gathering before their lord earnestly continued.
“Thank you for coming to celebrate with me my great good fortune in winning a wife of beauty, grace, and sweetness—and in that deed also securing for you a compassionate lady whose value you’ve seen demonstrated in both her words and deeds.”
Tal’s voice deepened with pride as he said, “Drink with me to Ceridwen, Countess of Westbourne.”
A gentle thunder of agreement and heartfelt approval of Tal’s bride accompanied the quaffing of this toast.
While the evening entertainments continued with music, rollicking dances, and barrels of ale the people’s lord and lady slipped quietly away.
* * *
“I remember,” Tal whispered into the ear of the angel laying beside him in the lord’s bed and dozing in sweet contentment. “Remember every detail.”
“Remember what?” Ceri absently mumbled against the massive chest across which she bestirred her languorous self to brush loving kisses.
“Everything—” The rough velvet of Tal’s words contained a purr of lingering physical satisfaction. “Everything about the loving days and passionate nights that I tarried in a Welsh cottage with a compassionate angel.”
Heart suddenly pounding, Ceri sat up to gaze down at the devastating man now hers in the sight of God and man. But would he still be hers after learning how, at her request, he had been tricked by Gran Mab’s spell?
“I’m sorry, so sorry.…” Silver sparks were obscured by abruptly gathering rain clouds in Ceri’s mist-green eyes.
“Sorry for what?” This was not the response Tal had expected his restored memory to earn from his tender delight.
“Sorry for tricking you into a false semblance of love.” The black masses of Ceri’s loosed hair tumbled forward as she haltingly confessed her wrong. “Sorry for begging Gran Mab to cast a spell tricking you into seeing me through love-hazed eyes.” She buried her face into suddenly trembling hands. “I thought—because I’ve loved you for so long—but I soon rued stealing mere illusions when I badly wanted—”
Ceri paused, drew a deep breath, and forced herself to meet golden eyes directly as she confessed, “I told you I hadn’t cast a spell—and I hadn’t, couldn’t. But I did beg my grandmother until she cast one for me.”
“I know,” Tal quickly said, wanting to ease Ceri’s unneessary distress. “The night Lloyd brought your grandmother to the castle and offered their aid in rescuing you from those who’d taken you hostage, Mab told everyone in the great hall how, for love of you, she granted your plea for that spell.”
Tal attempted to tenderly brush the slight frown from Ceri’s brow in vain. “And glad I am that Mabyn did—elsewise we might never have come together.”
Learning for the first time that her wrong had been so widely announced deepened Ceri’s anguish until it began to fall in a slow, steady rain. On
seeing Ceri’s tears, Tal realized that she had feared he would be so repelled by her actions that he might cease to care for her. He immediately sought to soothe her utterly unwarranted distress.
“You might have tricked my body into being yours—” Tal gently tugged a lock of dark hair firmly enough to pull Ceri down into his welcoming arms, permitting him to kiss falling tears away while whispering a precious truth. “But neither you nor your grandmother could ever trick my heart.”
“But how can you possibly remember?” Ceri persisted, afraid to believe. “Gran Mab warned me that the price to be paid for the granting of my boon would be your inability to remember me or any moment we shared in Llechu.”
“I told you once before that although my mind might forget, my heart never could. And—” A potent smile curled his lips. “In Farleith Keep the altered wine, though barely tasted, cracked opened the closed gates in my mind and remembered images began to seep through that gap until it broke wide allowing their return in an ever growing flood.”
Tal’s loving gaze brushed over Ceri’s delicate, adoring face even as in a voice of velvet thunder he firmly stated, “Memories of the heart are not so easily forgotten.”
St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles
By Marylyle Rogers
ONCE UPON A TIME
HAPPILY EVER AFTER
LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY
MEMORIES OF THE HEART
Outstanding Acclaim For Award-Winning Author Marylyle Rogers
LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY
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—Affaire de Coeur (5 stars)
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HAPPILY EVER AFTER
“Marylyle Rogers is a magician. The remarkable Rogers blends medieval, time travel, and fantasy into a great novel that audiences will savor for years to come.”
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“Another groundbreaking romance of lyrical grace from a fabulous storyteller. A spectacular, utterly irresistible love story full of magic and joy. Ms. Rogers waves her magic wand and the result is pure enchantment … romance fans will never forget it.”
—Romantic Times
“Marylyle Rogers has a rare talent of being able to transport her readers to another time and another place that is enchanting and romantic! Her characters leap from the page straight into your heart where they will linger Happily Ever After.”
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ONCE UPON A TIME
“With ONCE UPON A TIME, bestselling, award-winning Marylyle Rogers provides her fans with a tremendous and enchanting reading event. The author masterfully and brilliantly juxtaposes the fairy world with that of the Victorian realm in this enjoyable read.”
—Romance Forever
“A magical storyteller spins an exquisite enchantment of the heart.”
—Romantic Times
About the Author
Marylyle Rogers is the author of Memories of the Heart. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles By Marylyle Rogers
Outstanding Acclaim For Award-Winning Author Marylyle Rogers
About the Author
Copyright
MEMORIES OF THE HEART
Copyright © 1998 by Marylyle Rogers.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
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ISBN: 0-312-96611-3
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / August 1998
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN 9781250116383
First eBook edition: February 2016
Memories of the Heart Page 23
