He did not see Rhiannon until she joined him in the great hall for the evening meal. She appeared as strained and distant as ever. He attempted to bridge the tension between them by teasing her.
"Gwenaseth said you lay abed half the day, Rhiannon. Do you enjoy the luxury of being my queen?"
Rhiannon gave him a startled look, then turned away. "I will try to get up earlier tomorrow, my lord."
Maelgwn felt a stab of irritation that she would take his light words to heart. He reached out and patted her shoulder with a tender gesture. "It's no matter to me; you may sleep as late as you wish." He leaned close to add provocatively in her ear, "I suspect after tonight you may well need your rest."
Rhiannon gave him such a wary, frightened glance, Maelgwn tensed with aggravation. He had only meant to flirt a little, to entice her with the thought of a night of pleasurable loving. She acted as if he had threatened her!
Maelgwn rubbed Rhiannon's shoulder gently, trying to soothe her. Her body felt stiff, and he sensed the fear hovering over her like a dark cloud. As he glanced from his wife's strained face to the crowd surrounding them, he realized that anyone watching would think he had chastised his wife most severely.
Maelgwn pulled his hand away. Curse it! No matter what he said to Rhiannon, it seemed to be the wrong thing. How was he to deal with this baffling, frustrating woman?
The rest of the evening, Maelgwn concentrated on his duties as host and ignored his wife. Almost everyone else had left the hall before he finally admitted that he could delay no longer in confronting Rhiannon.
Glancing her way, he saw how tired she looked, her lovely eyes smudged in shadows. A sinking feeling enveloped him, but he struggled against it. He no longer expected Rhiannon to be enthusiastic about their lovemaking. It would be sufficient if she responded enough to allow him to enter her without causing pain.
He took her hand and led her to their bedchamber, pausing in the anteroom outside the wooden door. Carefully, he tipped up her delicate face and kissed her. Rhiannon did not respond. He drew back and searched her face. For a moment, thick auburn eyelashes veiled her eyes, then her gaze met his. The apprehension he saw distressed him. His fingers probed her body, searching for the soft breasts hidden beneath the heavy wool. Her eyes widened; her lips parted, but not with desire.
Her mute, silent fear undid him. What did it matter if she did not scream? Her dread showed clearly on her features. He jerked his hand away, breathing hard. Her eyes watched his. Stricken. Imploring.
Dear God, what did she want? What was he to do? Abruptly, Maelgwn turned and left, striding off into the night.
Rhiannon stared after him, the cold despair encircling her. Her husband surely hated her now. She could not pretend she desired him. Her husband's attentions aroused the most terrifying sensations. When Maelgwn put his arms around her, she felt trapped, helpless. When he kissed her, she could not breathe. His caresses evoked the memory of Llewenon's clawlike fingers.
It was madness. Maelgwn was nothing like Llewenon. He was boldly handsome, enticingly fair to look upon. She knew his touch could be exquisitely pleasing. Still, she could not banish her fear.
Shaking, Rhiannon went into the elegant bedchamber and began to undress. Clad in her shift, she climbed into the big bed and pulled the blankets up. She took several deep breaths and tried to make herself relax. Maelgwn might return at any time, and she dared not refuse him again. Perhaps if she kept her eyes open as he touched her, she could endure it. She would let her eyes linger over her husband's proud features and admire his gleaming dark hair. She would reach out and caress him, reminding herself of the smoothness of his skin, the solidity of his thick muscles. Somehow she must make herself accept the idea of his massive shaft invading her, his huge body pressing so close to hers.
She would do it. She would will herself to allow Maelgwn to kiss her and touch her the way he had before. She would try to please him.
Rhiannon lay back and stared into the darkness, waiting for her husband to return.
Balyn crossed the courtyard shortly after dawn. The sight of Maelgwn leaving the council room startled him. The king was usually an early riser, but with Maelgwn so newly wed, Balyn had expected him to lie abed later than this. A glance at the still-darkened building aroused his curiosity even more. "Why are you up so early?" he called across the misty courtyard. "Are you anxious to set out on the war trail?"
Maelgwn approached Balyn and spoke in a weary voice, "Nay, it's not the coming campaign which keeps me awake, but worry about my wife."
"Rhiannon? What's wrong?"
Maelgwn gave a deep sigh. "I don't know how to explain it. My wife... Rhiannon is afraid of me."
"Afraid?"
"Aye. It has been like this since the night she arrived. I have only to touch her, and she all but recoils in terror."
"Jesu, the bedding must have been difficult!"
"Difficult? Nay, impossible. For all I know it must be done, I have not the courage to force her."
"You mean... you have not yet..." Balyn's voice was shocked.
"I know I can't delay any longer. I'm going to her now." Through the dim light, Maelgwn's blue eyes met Balyn's brown ones beseechingly. "Say nothing of this, Balyn. I would not speak of it again."
"Of course, Maelgwn. But I can't understand... Did she refuse you? Was she unwilling to honor her vows?"
"She did not refuse me. Indeed, the first night, she pleasured me well in other ways."
"She pleasured you, and yet she would not allow the marriage to be consummated?"
Maelgwn nodded. "Rhiannon fears penetration. She found no fault with touching me."
Balyn's broad brow furrowed with a frown. "Are you certain her actions are motivated by fear?"
"Of course. Her dread is palpable. I have only to touch her, and she tenses as if I mean to strike a blow."
"Unless it is an act," Balyn said thoughtfully.
"An act?"
"Don't you think it odd, my lord, that a woman would pleasure her new husband, yet refuse to lie with him? I can't help doubting Rhiannon's fear. I suspect she plays some sort of game with you. Why would a woman avoid only the act of consummation? Unless she intends for the marriage to remain invalid."
"Balyn, you imply..."
"What if Ferdic instructed Rhiannon to delay consummation of the marriage? You have said you do not trust Ferdic—what if he planned some crude scheme to embarrass you? Or, what if Rhiannon hopes to thwart her father's wishes? Perhaps she has in mind another suitor. If you went to Ferdic and rejected her for her unwillingness in bed, he might agree to void the marriage contract. He would no doubt beat her for the embarrassment she has caused him, but in the end, Rhiannon would be given to the man she truly desires."
"But Rhiannon's fear appears so real, so convincing."
"She's a woman, Maelgwn. Who of us men can truly guess what transpires in a woman's heart?"
Maelgwn stared at his friend and officer, feeling his blood run cold. He felt sorry for Rhiannon, pitied her for her fear and shyness. What if Balyn were right, and her reticence only an act? It did not seem possible. But then, Ferdic's boyishness had fooled him years ago. His daughter's innocent face might mask even greater deceit.
Anger replaced Maelgwn's sympathy for his new wife. If Balyn were right, Rhiannon had manipulated him with a cold-hearted finesse that would have done even a bitch like Esylt proud.
Balyn watched suspicion darken the king's face and abruptly regretted his warning words. The Princess Rhiannon truly seemed shy and gentle. What if he was wrong? "Of course, I might be mistaken," he added hastily. "We don't really know that Rhiannon has deceived you."
"Nay, but something is clearly awry. I hadn't thought of it before, but now I see that mere maidenly shyness could not account for Rhiannon's behavior. Ferdic informed me the night they arrived that she was not a virgin."
"Not a virgin? But who...?"
"Ferdic did not say, and I did not ask. Rhiannon has lain with a man, so it
's unlikely she fears lovemaking as much as she pretends."
"Perhaps you should confront her, ask her outright why she fears you."
"I asked her the first night she arrived, and she was unwilling or unable to tell me the truth." Maelgwn unclenched his fists and met Balyn's eyes. "I have given Rhiannon more than enough chances to explain. It is time I took what Ferdic has so insistently thrust upon me."
Maelgwn turned to go. Balyn reached out a restraining hand, suddenly finding himself in the role of Rhiannon's defender. "A word of advice, Maelgwn. Go slowly. If you treat Rhiannon too harshly, she could panic. If you rape her, you risk souring things for good."
"Have more faith in me than that," Maelgwn answered coldly. "I know a thing or two about women. For all that Rhiannon has baffled me these last few nights, I intend to make her see things my way from now on."
Maelgwn started across the courtyard, determined to go to Rhiannon immediately. Gareth, who was also an early riser, intercepted him before he reached his bedchamber. His master horseman had a dozen questions about transportation for the combined army, and Maelgwn was busy until well after sunrise. By the time he reached his bedchamber, Rhiannon had gone.
Realizing he had no idea where his wife might be,
Maelgwn went looking for Gwenaseth. He finally found her coming out of the bakehouse carrying a basket full of fresh loaves.
"Where's Rhiannon?"
"She's probably in the weaving room."
Maelgwn frowned. "I don't want my wife burdened with menial tasks. We have seamstresses aplenty."
Gwenaseth gave him an exasperated look. "Rhiannon takes great pride in her needlework. She offered to help sew her new clothes."
"You're certain she enjoys it?"
"Sewing seems to be one of the few things that interests her—that and pottery. She asked to visit the kiln again this morning. I must say, Rhiannon is not what I expected in a Brigante princess. She is so quiet, so unassuming." Gwenaseth sighed and her eyes met Maelgwn's, misty with memories. "Remember how Aurora fought with you over managing the household at Caer Eyri? It was one of the main sources of conflict between her and Esylt. But Rhiannon has no interest in being mistress of Degannwy. The very thought of it seems to distress her."
"My wife is free to do whatever she wishes," Maelgwn said sharply. He turned away from Gwenaseth, seeking to hide his own inner turmoil. The mention of Aurora aroused the familiar ache of grief. Aurora had despised sewing and done as little as possible. She had also been ardently responsive in bed.
Maelgwn forced himself to walk toward the weaving room, reminding himself that he could not afford to dwell on the past. He had a new wife now, and somehow he must deal with her. Rhiannon's strange behavior nagged at him. Her fear had been so convincing. Could anyone feign that kind of desperation?
There were several women in the weaving room, and they stared at Maelgwn uneasily as he entered. Rhiannon was the last to be aware of his presence. When she finally looked up and saw him, she gave a little gasp of surprise.
Sewan, Balyn's wife, gathered up her things. "It's time to feed the children," she said meaningfully. The other women quickly followed Sewan's lead. In a few moments, the small room was deserted, save for Maelgwn and Rhiannon.
Maelgwn went to stand beside his wife. She kept her eyes on her lap, idly fussing with her needlework. Her hands trembled, and Maelgwn noticed a mistake in her embroidery. For a moment, sympathy almost won out over his anger. Nay, he told himself sternly, he would not be put off this time.
"Rhiannon."
She looked up at him. Her dark liquid eyes reminded him of flowers glowing in the dim purple of twilight. For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Maelgwn reached down and grasped Rhiannon's shoulders, pulling her up so he could kiss her. Her body went limp and yielding in his arms. Maelgwn felt a wave of relief. Perhaps Balyn was right, and she would give in easily once she knew his determination.
He explored her small, luscious mouth languidly, tenderly, and was rewarded by her fragile body melding to his. Instinctively, his tongue probed deeper. Rhiannon shuddered against him, making him intensely aware of the way her breasts crushed against his chest and her slim hips met his thighs. His thoughts focused on the delicious heat burning in his loins. Without releasing her, he reached down and rested his hand on the small of her back, subtly urging her against his erection.
She could feel how big and hard he was! His kisses were not tender now, but rough and insistent. He held her so tightly, she could barely breathe. She must try to relax; she must remember that he was her husband and let him do what he wished. No one had ever died from lovemaking, and since she was no longer a virgin, it would not hurt so much. Desperately, Rhiannon clutched his neck, trying to will the fear away. If she could concentrate on breathing slowly and rhythmically...
Maelgwn found himself overcome by his urgent desire. He had been without a woman too long, and Rhiannon was so heartbreakingly lovely, so sweet. He released her and glanced around the room. A strange setting for their first time, but it would do. There was even a large pile of unspun wool in the corner that could serve as a bed. Maelgwn went to the door and shut it tightly. Sewan and the other women would warn others away; it was unlikely they would be interrupted.
He returned to Rhiannon and led her over to the pile of wool, but did not lie down with her. Instead, he held her tightly against him and reached down with both hands to pull up her gown. Impatiently, he buried his fingers in the lush warmth of her buttocks. She was so soft...
Rhiannon smothered a cry against Maelgwn's chest. Cerrunos save her! She could not go through with it! His hands touched her bare flesh. Soon he would be pressing her down beneath him. Fear clawed at her throat. She could not stand it, she could not! He was going to hurt her!
Rhiannon's body went rigid. Maelgwn released her slightly and moved his fingers to stroke the silken skin of her back as he tried to soothe her. The familiar frustration ate at his patience. Rhiannon did not want him. She endured his touch now, nothing more. So be it, he thought angrily. There had to be a first time, and it seemed likely Rhiannon would find it distressing, no matter what he did. He moved his hand lower, seeking the warm, secret place between her thighs.
A flurry of energy fanned out from Rhiannon's small form. Her small fists beat desperately against his chest, and her mouth beneath his was frantic. Finally jerking away, she cried out.
Maelgwn watched, stunned, as Rhiannon backed away from him, her eyes wild, her chest heaving. He followed her, determined to finish. Pushing her down on the pile of wool, he pulled up her gown with one hand and forced her legs apart with the other.
He was fumbling with his trousers when she whimpered. It was an inhuman sound, low and wordless. It jarred him back to his senses. He saw the frightened creature who cowered beneath him. Rhiannon's eyes were stark with terror, her small features a mask of agony.
The anger left him, replaced by shame. He had never raped before, not even in the passion of battle. Men who relished hurting women were cowards. A real man aroused the woman and made her desire lovemaking. But this woman?—Maelgwn felt the aching weight of failure. Would this woman ever want him?
With shaking fingers he helped Rhiannon up. He could not stand to look at her. He helped her brush the lint off her dress, staring fixedly at the vague pattern of the brownish red wool. Then he turned and left the room.
Rhiannon trembled so badly she could hardly walk. She groped her way to a stool and sank down. Her mouth was dry. Her body ached with fatigue. She felt as if she had been fighting for her life. She shook her head. It was over; she was safe. Except, it would never be over.
Rhiannon stared at the door, her breathing harsh and ragged. Once again she had failed her husband. How much more would he endure before he complained to Ferdic, and her shame was known to everyone—Brigante and Cymry alike? She closed her eyes. If only she could talk to Maelgwn, explain what Llewenon had done, explain her terrible fear.
She could not do it
. She had buried the memory of the rape deep in the darkest part of her mind. To speak of it with a man, especially an angry, frightening man like
Maelgwn, was unthinkable. There had to be some other way out of this wretched tangle. If only Esylt were here— Esylt would know what to do, how to deal with her brother.
Rhiannon stood, fighting a wave of homesickness and grief. She needed to escape this fortress, this prison. She needed to walk among the trees and smell the wild, restless air.
The thought of the woods lured her to the door of the weaving room. Rhiannon pushed it open and stepped out into the muddy courtyard. She walked warily past the great hall. A few servants saw her, and either nodded or ignored her. She passed several buildings before the fortress gate came in sight. Two rosy-cheeked, dark-haired boys chased a brindle-marked hunting dog in circles near the open gate. Above them, a lone sentry stood in the watchtower.
Swiftly, Rhiannon approached the gate. She slowed as she walked through it, trying to keep her pace unhurried and nonchalant. Thinking of her bright, uncovered hair, she winced. If anyone saw her, it would be remarked upon.
She shook her head stubbornly, and her heavy braids swayed against her body. On the morrow, Maelgwn might lock her away, or her father beat her for displeasing her new husband. But for this moment, she was free, and she meant to make the most of it.
The track sloped down to the coast road. Rhiannon veered in the other direction, heading for the river and the verdant green of the forest beyond.
Chapter 8
Gwenaseth was in the root cellar looking over supplies when Maelgwn found her. When he called her name, she jumped up and gasped in surprise. "My word, Maelgwn. What do you mean by sneaking up on me like that?"
"Elwyn said I might find you here. I thought I made plenty of noise."
"What do you want?"
Maelgwn hesitated. As much as he disliked confiding in a woman, especially one as sharp-tongued and opinionated as Gwenaseth, he had no choice. For two days he had avoided Rhiannon, seeing her only at the evening meal, where he had been scrupulously polite and formal. After that, he said good-night to her at the bedchamber door, then went off to his council room to spend the night tossing and turning on his bedroll.
Dragon's Dream Page 8
