She watched him wrestle off his boots and wet tunic, and then toss them in a heap in front of the blaze. He turned to frown at her. “We should get you out of those wet clothes.”
“Bring me that bowl first.” Eirlys wanted relief from the fire in her hands more than anything. “And the pouch, too.”
Odwain obliged without question and set the bowl and pouch on her lap. Eirlys began to bathe her hands. The burn was harsh, even soaked in the cool water. Some thistles stung, like nettles on the skin. She tried to ignore it. It would pass soon.
“Let me see.” Odwain squatted before her and gently lifted one of her hands from the water to look at the palm. “What should we do about this?”
“I expect there is some sort of balm in that bag to salve the wounds,” she said. “Then just wrap them up, I guess.”
He looked up at her with a tender smile. “I’ll make it quick, and then you can rest.”
Eirlys nodded as her eyes flooded with tired tears. She sat quietly while he cleaned the gashes on her hands and applied the salve, feeling a little better just for his company and gentle tending. It was easy to let him care for her. He bound the wounds with the strips of cloth and then wiped the dirt from her face with the hem of his shirt.
“There,” he said. “All finished.” Odwain took the bowl from her lap and put it back on the table along with the medicine bag. He offered her a piece of the bread. “Will you eat something?”
She shook her head. “You eat. I’ll take some tea, though. My mother keeps a pot in the hearth.”
Odwain arched an eyebrow at her. “That is not tea she keeps in that pot.”
“Then call it tonic.” Eirlys shrugged. “Good for the ills and the chills.”
She watched Odwain fumble about for a cup, more in love with him now than ever she’d been. Eirlys had fancied many things about marriage but she hadn’t imagined how sweet it would be to have the man she adored see so eagerly to her comforts. But by the time he’d poured the aleberry and offered her the cup, she wasn’t at all sure she could drink it.
“Can you hold it?” he asked. “It’s not too hot.”
“It’s just right, Odwain.” She would manage. After all, he’d gone to the trouble. “Thank you.”
The warm cup was unexpectedly soothing to her hands, and the spicy steam appealed to her nose. A sip or two later, her topsyturvy insides had settled a bit. Eirlys thought she might even eat the bread.
“Here.” As if he’d heard her thoughts, Odwain broke a small piece from the loaf. “Try this.”
The salty dough made her mouth water and sat even better on her stomach than the aleberry. “I hadn’t realized I was so hungry.” Odwain nodded toward the window. The sky had darkened with dusk as well as the rain clouds. “It is later than you think, and you’ve had a difficult day.”
“Hair-raising, more like,” she admitted.
He frowned and tilted his head as if to examine her face. “You should lie down.”
“I’m fine.” Her voice faded with doubt. She was cold, and it had been an awful ordeal, after all. “But maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I am right.” Odwain led her to the bedside and threw back the coverlet. “Can you get yourself undressed?”
Eirlys clambered onto the mattress trying to avoid the use of her hands, though the burning had eased. She pulled herself to her knees and managed to scuttle around to face him. “I’ll need your help with the belt clasp,” she heard herself answer. “But I can do the rest.”
Odwain held her steady with one hand and deftly removed her waist chain with the other. He stood close to be certain she didn’t topple over while she tugged the heavy dress over her head and then stepped several paces back. He even went so far as to turn and face the other room. As if it were some scandal to see her stripped to her underclothes.
“I think your chivalry charming, Odwain,” she said. Eirlys dug her way into the bed slip and swaddled herself in the sheeting and blankets. “But you needn’t go to such extremes anymore, I don’t think. It’s not as though I am altogether naked, and we are to be married, after all.”
“Ah, but we are not married yet.” He peeked over his shoulder to be certain she was covered before turning to grin at her. “I know it amuses you, pet, but I rely on my manners to keep me from giving in to my less noble nature.”
He reached across her for her dress and kissed her forehead as he passed. “I’ll hang this to dry, and you get some sleep.”
She watched Odwain spread her wet clothes on the hearth along with his, huddled with her knees curled to her chest. Her skin still felt cold and clammy in spite of the woolen bed rugs. How nice it would be, she thought, to have Odwain’s warmth around her.
Once he had finished arranging the clothing, Odwain stuffed another log into the fire and settled himself on the divan. Eirlys was disappointed. This was taking propriety to ridiculous lengths. “Will you sit here, with me?”
He gazed at her over the back of the sofa. “That can’t possibly be a good idea, Eirlys.”
“Please, Odwain.”
She was not above a good whine, if necessary, but it seemed she must have looked pitiful enough. After a proper show of reluctance, Odwain finally walked to the side of the bed and knelt to look at her. He smoothed the damp curls from her eyes and cupped her chin in his palm. “Are you all right, pet?”
“I can’t seem to get warm,” she chattered.
“Very well, then,” Odwain relented. He pulled himself up and perched awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, edging just enough onto the bed to hold her. “But only until you fall asleep.”
* * *
Odwain’s valiant attempts to hold to his scruples were tested as soon as she nestled herself in his arms and laid her head on his chest. Odwain reasoned that aid through comfort was a noble motive and a defensible argument to even the sternest critic. Even Bledig could forgive something so sublime, so sweet as this — couldn’t he?
“Odwain,” she whispered, lifting her face to his, her lips so close he could already taste them. “Come closer.”
When Eirlys lifted the bedclothes and beckoned him under, Odwain could not resist. His fingers felt the warmth of her skin before he realized that all that separated them were a layer or two of underclothing.
A knock on the door shocked him to his feet, just before Glain let herself in. He was certain she could see his guilty conscience plain as the nose on his face. “Is there something else? Eirlys should sleep. Undisturbed. For a bit.”
“Madoc has sent a salve for her wounds.” She handed the small jar to him with what looked to him like a knowing smile. “The sooner it is applied, the more it will help.”
Odwain nodded, afraid to speak again for fear of what nonsense might escape.
“There’s a bell on the desk. I’ll be near enough to hear it, if you need me.” Glain gave a nod and let herself out, leaving Odwain much relieved.
Odwain returned to the bed and Eirlys’s outstretched arms, with Madoc’s salve in hand. “Let’s put this to use first.”
She allowed him to unbind her hands and apply the medicine, but no sooner had he retied the bandages did she pull him under the covers again. Eirlys offered her mouth as she clung to him, and Odwain took her kisses, reasoning that this would comfort her. He allowed his hands to trace the hollow of her back and the curve of her hips, slowly and deliberately, allowing himself to enjoy the nearness of her flesh. Eirlys writhed at the slightest touch, arching into his caresses and moaning against his mouth. It was wonderful. And horrible. What if the others returned to find him with Eirlys, in her mother’s bed no less?
But she was willing, and he was only human. No one could deny that she was his and Odwain could not withstand the constraints of decency a minute more. Still, Eirlys was virgin.
This was a far more unnerving worry: an unspoiled girl and a test of skill he’d never tried. Innocence was entrusted, not taken. First love was sacred. Its consummation required reverence and patience.
He could not imagine greater proof of the character of a man than gentleness in the throes of raging passion, and Odwain was afraid that he would fail her.
“Eirlys.” Odwain pulled his lips from hers. He wanted to see her eyes. “Look at me.”
She gazed up at him so openly his heart ached. He held her face in his hands and let her loveliness amaze him all over again. “Are you sure that this is what you want?” he asked. “I must know you’re certain.”
“Don’t worry so Odwain,” she said. “I love you. That is all you need to know.”
Eirlys was so confident in him, and assured of him in ways he was not assured of in himself. It occurred to him then that the very trust she gave to him, he owed her in return. Odwain put uncertainty aside and placed his faith in the love they had for each other. And in the life ahead they would build together.
He released her only long enough to undress. Her gazing upon him as he revealed himself both unnerved and excited him. Odwain wondered what she expected, of him and of lovemaking. It couldn’t help but be uncomfortable for her, but he would be careful.
Odwain stretched out alongside her and drew her closer. Eirlys molded her body to his, as if it were the most natural thing to do, and he struggled to control the wild urges her breasts pressed against his chest inspired. Eirlys slid her leg over his hip and pulled him toward her. Patience, he reminded himself.
He nuzzled the scratches on her cheek and swallowed hard. “That briar patch put up a nasty fight.”
Eirlys gave a soft moaning sigh in answer. He moved to kiss her mouth but was greeted with trembling lips and weepy, desperate eyes. His heart raced with panic.
“What is it, pet?” he whispered. “Don’t tease,” she pleaded. “Please.”
Odwain was lost. He raised himself over her and let her wrap her legs around him. His erection straining against the folds of her burrow made her groan. Eirlys arched and lifted her hips to give him entrance, but he waited.
“I don’t mean to tease, only to be cautious.”
He reached between her legs expecting to find her ready for him, but prepared to coax her if need be. His fingers stoked gently through moist curls until they found her opening. She was wet and swollen, squirming impatiently against his hand as he slid one finger and then two inside. Odwain encountered the natural resistance there and felt a moment’s regret. He didn’t want to hurt her, but the many other pleasures he could give her would be better enjoyed once this was done.
Eirlys would not be denied any longer. Her need was insistent, as was his. Odwain pressed himself slowly but firmly into her. Her eyes widened in surprise when he entered, and she gasped as he felt her maidenhead give way in a subtle rupture. Eirlys clutched at him and shuddered. He felt awful.
“I’m sorry, pet.” He waited, holding her and searching her face, afraid to move until he knew she wanted him to.
Eirlys answered him with a kiss and a whisper. “Come, Odwain. No more waiting, or wanting.”
He needed no more enticement than her arms and legs around him and the soft moans that escaped her lips as he moved inside of her. Eirlys was warmer and more sensual than in his wildest imaginings. Another day he’d show her rapture, but neither his heart nor his manhood could contain his ecstasy much longer. His body screamed for release and Eirlys obliged, meeting his thrusts with her own until he succumbed in a splendid rush of relief.
Odwain withdrew with care and held Eirlys snugly to him, offering a silent promise to never let her go. She burrowed deeper into his embrace and drifted fast asleep. Not comfortable, exactly, but at least she was at ease. Though still wracked with worry, Odwain was deliriously happy just to hold her.
He had never before had the chance to take in her more subtle nature. She was beautiful, breathtakingly so, especially at peace. Eirlys seemed almost fragile in stillness, more delicate and refined in repose than her wakeful spirit ever revealed.
Her breathing slowed until it was nearly as languid as the rest of her. Odwain enjoyed the weight of her body against his. The warmth of her skin and the blankets worked like a sedative on his senses and soon he began to relax. His head sagged against the pillows, and the blissful haze closed in.
Twenty-One
His eyes snapped open to darkness. Some moments had passed, maybe more, maybe hours. Odwain realized he must have succumbed to exhaustion, but he was fully awake now. Eirlys, though, was still asleep in his arms. The rain had stopped, and Odwain wondered about the hour. Was it evening already? He couldn’t tell.
Odwain groaned softly to himself. The last thing he wanted to do was to move. He risked disturbing Eirlys, and that would deprive her of much needed rest. It would also deprive Odwain of his own guilty pleasure. An awful dilemma, but the fire was dying and the room growing colder by the minute.
Odwain held his breath as he lifted her shoulders and eased himself out from under, ever so slowly shifting his weight toward the edge of the bed. Once he was free, Odwain gently lowered Eirlys back to the pillows and slid off. He stifled a yelp as his bare feet met the cold stone floor and nearly bolted across the room to the hearth. He hunted on hands and knees in the dusk for his tunic and yanked it on to quell the shivers. The chill was fierce.
Odwain had the fire stoked and blazing in no time. He stood with his back to the blaze to warm himself, and watch over his woman. It made him smile to see that she had curled into the space he’d left. Odwain was tempted to crawl back into bed beside her until he remembered her wounded hands and her mother’s warning to watch for fever. It would be best to wake her now, just to be sure. At the very least, the dressings would have to be changed.
Odwain sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the curls from her face, tracing her nose and lips with his fingertips. Her skin was warm to the touch, but she was not perspiring. As far as he could tell, Eirlys had no fever. This, to his great relief, was a decidedly good sign.
He bent and kissed her softly on the mouth. “Eirlys,” he whispered. “Awake, pet.”
She didn’t stir save to draw breath, and Odwain felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He gave her shoulder a good shake. “Wake up now, girl. You are scaring me.”
Still no sign or sound, and Odwain felt his heart drop into his toes. He shook her roughly and shouted. “Eirlys!”
Her eyelids fluttered open and closed again, and a soft sigh slipped past her lips.
“Eirlys?” He stroked her cheek, and she seemed to come round again. She gazed back at him glassy-eyed and vapid for a moment before slipping back into a dead sleep. Odwain’s instincts flared. Something was terribly wrong.
He pulled one of her hands from the blankets and stripped the bandage off. The cuts on her palm were raw and seeping but there was neither pus nor foul smell. Odwain was befuddled. He wrapped the cloth loosely round her hand and looked at her closely again. Why wouldn’t she wake?
Whatever was wrong, he needed help. Odwain covered Eirlys snugly, found his boots, and made for the door.
“Glain!”
His shout fell dead in the empty hallway. Where was that blasted attendant now? He couldn’t just leave Eirlys alone.
Odwain had no idea what to do. Thankfully, his practical nature soon overcame his panic and Odwain began to reason clearly as he walked the long hall toward the stairs. Somewhere on the main floor were the acolytes’ quarters. He would find Glain there.
Odwain’s quick clip lurched into an anxious lope, spurred by the cold sweat of fear beading along his spine. Desperation drove him until he was racing at a breakneck pace, leaping down the steps two and three at a time. As he stumbled to a stop at the bottom of the staircase, Odwain realized he had no idea which way to go. He had very little knowledge of the temple beyond the main corridors, and there was no one about to ask. To his right, he figured, past the assembly hall and through the kitchens.
“Were you looking for me?”
The voice chilled his blood. Cerrigwen was the last person he had hoped to find. Although she was by all rights due
his respect and consideration, he was uneasy in her presence. “I have come to find Glain.”
She emerged from a small, shadowy aperture on the far side of the hall, some passageway Odwain had never noticed before. “Is the girl ill?”
Odwain hesitated, bound by loyalty and respect for Alwen’s feelings. He knew she wanted Cerrigwen nowhere near her daughter, but what choice did he have? He would do anything for Eirlys, including defy her mother. “She will not wake.”
Cerrigwen frowned a moment and then brushed past him on her way to the stairs. “Show me.”
Odwain followed her back in to Alwen’s rooms. Eirlys was just as he’d left her.
“You’ve tended to her wounds, I assume.” Cerrigwen swept across the room, her skirts rustling beneath her robe. She was imposing, if not a little intimidating.
“Yes,” Odwain said quietly. “The cuts were cleaned and salved. She has no fever, and no infection that I could see.”
“Well,” she said, “if you didn’t find any blight, it’s doubtful I will. But bring some light and let’s have a look. Dark magic can work in unexpected ways, some too subtle to see or sense right away.”
Odwain searched the room for a candle and finally found one on the windowsill. He rooted about the desk for a tinderbox, to no avail. “A moment,” he stalled. “I’ll use a touchwood from the fire.”
“For pity sake, Odwain.” Cerrigwen snapped her fingers and the wick alit on its own.
Odwain nearly dropped the candlestick in shock. Magic had never become so commonplace to him that it didn’t still startle the spit out of him, even after all these weeks surrounded by sorcerers. He set the candle on the bed stand and hovered awkwardly nearby, uncertain what to do. He was sick with worry and feeling helpless.
“Don’t stand there like some timid little stable boy.” Cerrigwen unhooked the chain clasp on her cloak and tossed the robe over the end of the bed. She nodded toward the far side. “Sit with her.”
“What do you suppose could be ailing her?” Odwain rounded the foot of the bed and sat gingerly next to Eirlys. He took her free hand in his lap and toyed gently with her fingertips. “She will wake, won’t she?”
The Well of Tears Page 16
