The strain was making him moody and irritable, although it was doubtful anyone except Balyn guessed the true cause of his bleary eyes and short temper. Ferdic had departed yesterday, apparently convinced that Maelgwn was delighted with his bride. His men continued to make lewd jests regarding his status as a newly married man, adding to his misery.
"I need your advice about Rhiannon."
Gwenaseth sighed. "She is a puzzle—so shy and wary. I've found it difficult to befriend her."
"I have no one else to turn to, Gwen. No man can advise me in this." He gave Gwenaseth a pleading look. "It's been days since the wedding, and I still haven't been able to bed my wife."
Gwenaseth's mouth dropped open. "God above, why not?"
Maelgwn turned away, fists clenched. "She fears me, nay, she is terrified of me. Other than forcing her, I can't think how to manage it."
"Why didn't you say something before this?"
"Obviously, I'm embarrassed by my situation."
Gwenaseth took a deep breath. "Of course, I'll help you. But I can't understand... why did you let things go on so long?"
"I'm at loss; I've never had a woman act this way before."
"What happened?" Gwenaseth asked. "What went on the first night?"
Maelgwn began to pace as he described the events of his wedding night He saw Gwenaseth's eyes widen as he explained what Rhiannon had done to him. "That's what makes the rest of Rhiannon's behavior even more baffling," he continued. "For a time, I even considered she wanted the marriage to remain unconsummated to thwart her father's plans. I no longer believe that. I think Rhiannon truly wants things to be right between us, but her fear will not allow it."
Gwenaseth's eyes remained questioning, and Maelgwn went on to describe what happened in the weaving room. "That time was even odder," he finished wearily. "One minute she was willing and responsive, the next, wild with panic. In all my days, I've never heard of a woman acting so."
"Perhaps she didn't care to be tumbled on the floor of the weaving room like a serving slut," Gwenaseth said acidly. "Perhaps she has more decency than that."
"Haven't you been listening, Gwenaseth? She wasn't outraged, she was out of her mind with fear!" Maelgwn jerked around as if to leave.
"Wait," Gwenaseth called. "I'm sorry. I should not have said that. You're right; Rhiannon's behavior is peculiar." Gwenaseth sighed again, her forehead etched with furrows of worry. "I've known only one other woman to act as Rhiannon has. Years ago, I knew a coastal woman who was brutally raped in an Irish raid. Afterwards she would scarce allow her husband to touch her, although their relationship had been passionate before. The memory would not leave her, and the mere sight of a naked man aroused her dread."
"Surely you don't think... who would dare rape Ferdic's daughter?"
"I can't imagine. Still, it seems a likely explanation."
Maelgwn pressed his lips into a grim line. The thought of Rhiannon being violated infuriated him. How could Ferdic have let it happen?
"If Rhiannon has been raped, I'm not certain I can help you," Gwenaseth went on. "The woman I knew never got over her fear. She finally allowed her husband his rights, but she never found pleasure in the act."
"I won't accept that. I refuse to endure a wife who looks at me with dread. Rhiannon must to learn to trust me."
"Then you must win her trust. Have you taken the time to talk to her, to woo her with gentle words and little gifts?"
Maelgwn shook his head. "I had not thought it necessary. After all, this marriage was not one of choice, but political expediency."
Gwenaseth rolled her eyes. "Any woman, even a princess, wants to think her husband values her for more than her dowry."
"Your point is well taken," Maelgwn said thoughtfully. "I've sought to know Rhiannon's body, but not her heart and mind. I think it's time for a change in tactics."
Maelgwn left the cellar, feeling relieved to at last have a plan. He had never wooed a woman; they had always sought him out instead. But he had won over a considerable number of chieftains with persuasion and subtlety. With Rhiannon, it was more a matter of winning the trust of a wild animal. She was so skittish, so wary. Still, some part of her had responded to him that first night. Her touch had not been merely skilled, but filled with yearning. Beyond his obligation to consummate the marriage, it might be worth a great deal to win Rhiannon's gentle trust.
"Rhiannon."
She woke with a start. Maelgwn bent over her, calling her name. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, Rhiannon. I want you to come with me. I wish to show you something."
Rhiannon sat up slowly. It was very dark and quiet, surely it was still night.
"Get dressed," Maelgwn whispered. "I'll wait for you outside."
Rhiannon fumbled breathlessly for her clothes. She pulled on her gown, found her sandals, then touched her hair distractedly. It was hopeless; she could not fix it in the dark.
She crept outside, into a world of mist and shadows. The fortress was amazingly quiet. The bark of a hound broke the eerie silence, sending a tremor of fear down Rhiannon's spine.
"Rhiannon."
She turned with relief at the sound of Maelgwn's voice. His tall form materialized only inches away in the mist.
"Cold?"
She nodded. She had not thought to bring her cloak, and the damp air chilled her skin. Without a word, Maelgwn took off his cloak and draped it around her. It came almost to the ground, but it was warm and smelled comfortingly of Maelgwn.
Maelgwn took her hand and led her to the fortress gate, then called up softly to the guard. The man came down, and the two men pushed hard on the massive gate until it opened with a creaking sound.
Thick, almost palpable darkness closed around them. Rhiannon clutched Maelgwn's hand more tightly.
"Where are we going?" she whispered.
"The cliffs above the sea."
"How will we find our way?"
Maelgwn's warm chuckle startled her. "We'll follow the sound of the ocean," he said. "Listen."
The unmistakable crash of the surf sounded in the distance, a vague, roaring rhythm. Rhiannon still felt anxious. She did not like walking blind in the dark. Why was Maelgwn taking her to this place in the middle of the night? What did he want with her?
She strained her eyes, trying to see the man who held her hand and trod silently next to her. She could scarcely make out his form, and his face was completely hidden. It might not even be Maelgwn; it might be a spirit or a demon. Nay, his hand felt too real, too hard upon her own.
Rhiannon's fear intensified. She had wronged Maelgwn by denying him his marital rights. He had every right to possess her body, and she had refused him. Perhaps he meant to make her pay. If he took her away from the fortress, he could satisfy himself where no one would hear her screams. Once they were alone by the sea, no one would ever know or care what he did to her.
"Rhiannon, what's wrong?"
She had stopped walking, her body frozen in dread at her thoughts.
Maelgwn sighed. "You think I mean to hurt you, don't you? Listen to me." He turned her so his face was very close to hers. She still could not see him, but his breath felt warm against her face.
"I promise I won't hurt you. It's not meant to hurt, Rhiannon, but to feel wonderful."
His hand came up to touch her face, and Rhiannon relaxed slightly. She recalled how he had cupped her chin in his fingers after she had pleasured him on their wedding night. She sensed kindness in this man, despite his powerful body and fierce manner. Mayhap over time she could even learn to trust him.
They began to walk again. Maelgwn paced his long strides so she could keep up with him. The dazed feeling from waking up suddenly vanished, and Rhiannon was keenly aware of the feel of the damp air against her face, the rumbling of the sea, the shape and scent of the man who walked next to her.
The crashing of the surf grew louder as they neared the cliffs, and the mist thinned slightly as dawn crept upon them. Rhiannon experienced a vague disappointm
ent. She had found safety in the darkness, a kind of peace in this silent, mysterious journey. Maelgwn did not seem as threatening when she could not see him. She enjoyed his invisible presence next to her, his musky male scent warm in the cool air, the hardness of his strong fingers gripping hers.
Now, she would have to see his face and try not to flinch from his hard, proud features, those probing, passionate eyes. As the sky lightened with morning, her fear lingered, ready to swoop down upon her.
They reached the cliffs above the beach. Maelgwn stopped and pulled her close, nestling her against his chest. Rhiannon tried not to look at him. She closed her eyes, expecting the pressure of his kiss. Instead, Maelgwn grasped her chin with his fingers and turned her toward the east. "Watch," he said.
The sky had begun to glow with the milky pink of dawn, and a luminescent mist floated on the horizon. As they watched, the haze thinned, revealing the peaks of the mountains dark in the distance. The colors of the sky deepened and then grew brighter, glowing with shades of orange, rose, violet and gold. Slowly the sun rose, stealing color from the sky and burning away the mist as the far-off highlands blurred to blue-gray again.
"How beautiful," Rhiannon whispered. "It's as if the world were beginning again."
"It's not a sight you can see from anywhere in Britain but Gwynedd," Maelgwn answered. "The sea, the mountains, the misty air—that is the magic of this land. It speaks of ancient mysteries, forgotten gods, barely remembered dreams." He sighed softly. "When I was young, I loved the highlands best. I once thought never to leave them. Now, I find the sea calls me, too."
He turned to look at the ocean. "I love to watch the waves, breaking and breaking, forever and ever. It reminds me how very short and insignificant life is, that a man should never measure himself against the eternity of the sea."
Maelgwn stroked Rhiannon's hair gently, and she felt a strange contentment. She had not seen this side of her husband before. There was a contemplativeness about him she had not known in her father or other men. Maelgwn was not merely a warrior, obsessed with fighting and victory, nor was he like Llewenon, who was obsessed with power of another sort. He seemed set apart... solitary... searching. She could feel his deep connection to the land and the sea, the bond he experienced with the place he had grown up in and now ruled.
Rhiannon looked up at her husband, watching him stare out at the sea. The morning light made his hair seem lighter and softened the fine lines in his face. Even his mouth did not appear so stern. All at once, she was able to stop thinking of him as a king and see him as man. She recognized his haunted look, the wistful sadness in his eyes. Like her, he sought something far beyond this place, perhaps even this time. Llewenon had often bragged that he could visit the spirit world, although she no longer believed it was true. But this man—perhaps Maelgwn the Great was really strong enough and brave enough to go to the other side.
Maelgwn glanced at her and smiled. "Come, let us walk some more. We have the whole beach to explore."
Chapter 9
Maelgwn led Rhiannon to the path that ran down the cliffs to the beach. He held her hand tightly as they climbed down the narrow, rocky defile. In one place a large rock blocked their way, and Maelgwn picked her up and lifted her over it. He paused before releasing her and kissed her. Even through the cloak, she felt the heat of his body, the strength of his muscles as he held her. She realized she was no longer afraid, but enthralled by his maleness. She clung to him as he kissed her, then he released her and they continued down the path.
They reached the beach and walked out onto the damp sand. The scent of dying sea creatures, stranded by the retreating tide, mingled with the clean ocean air. Maelgwn led her out further, until they were a few paces from the waves.
"It's breathtaking," she said, staring at the endless gray waves stretching out to the distant horizon.
"Have you ever seen the ocean before?"
She shook her head.
"Would you like to go in?"
Her face lit with eagerness. "Could I?"
"Of course. I'll hold the cloak. Take off your sandals and wade in."
Rhiannon bent down and removed her shoes. She held her gown up to her knees and walked gingerly into the water. She gave a shriek of surprise. Maelgwn laughed. "The Irish Sea is cold even in summer. Don't fall in or you will freeze before I can get you home."
Rhiannon waded farther out, scarcely hearing his words. Despite the icy chill, the waves felt good upon her legs. The ocean was like a mouth, sucking you in. She tensed her body against the next wave, feeling the power of it, then closed her eyes. How easy it would be to let the ocean carry her away to the faint green glow at the bottom where the spirits lived.
Maelgwn watched Rhiannon jump and dance among the waves. Her childlike delight in the ocean surprised and tantalized him. The carefree water sprite cavorting wildly in the rainbow mist of the seaspray bore no resemblance to the wary, silent woman he had wed. This was another Rhiannon, an even more lovely and enchanting one.
Hope filled him. He had not yet found the words to ask Rhiannon about her life, her feelings, but perhaps there was another way. Already he felt closer to her, as if he had gained some small part of her trust. If only he could overcome her terror of physical joining.
Rhiannon continued to play in the water, holding her skirts high, almost to her thighs. Maelgwn stared at the paleness of her legs flashing above the seafoam, surprised at how much he desired her. Rhiannon's delicate, fragile-looking beauty aroused him more than the earthy, voluptuous women he usually took to bed. Was it her dazzling coloring—the cool white skin, fiery hair, her eyes like blue cornflowers? Or was it the mystery of her? When he looked into Rhiannon's eyes, it seemed he saw far-away, forgotten things, as if he were slipping into a beautiful dream. Something about Rhiannon made him want to possess her with a longing greater than he had thought to feel for a woman again.
He turned to look at the lonely expanse of beach, pleased he had given into the impulse to rouse his wife from her bed to see the sunrise. Again spending the night in an agony of wakefulness, he had given up his quest for sleep long before dawn and gone out to walk in the night air. It was one of those nights that seems like a dream, when the spirits walk in the silver mist and the voices of the dead beckon on the wind. He felt close to something, some profound message waiting in the darkness. As his feet found their way to his bedchamber, he remembered the woman sleeping there and realized he had need of her, a need for companionship and human warmth on a night of spirits.
Maelgwn looked back at the waves. Rhiannon had waded out quite far. Feeling a strange fear, he called out to her, shouting her name. Rhiannon came to him slowly, reluctantly, like a child summoned from play. But she did not look unhappy. She was smiling, a radiant smile. He noticed how white and even her small teeth were. She looked altogether different when she smiled, more womanly. He had not noticed before. Or could it be that he had never seen her smile?
The waves had soaked her dress almost to the waist, and the shape of her slim legs and hips was clearly visible through the damp fabric. Maelgwn felt the tightening tingle in his loins.
"May I have your cloak?" she asked through chattering teeth. "I'm so cold."
"You shouldn't have gone in so far," he chided as he wrapped her tightly in the cloak and held her close. Her damp hair smelled of sea spray, the fresh, tangy scent of the ocean. The pressure of her body against his aroused him further. He turned her face up with his fingers and began to kiss her. She settled willingly into his arms. Maelgwn gasped at the fire that burned through him. He nibbled her lips, sucking the wetness from Rhiannon's mouth with his own, then forced his tongue between her lips, searching, searching...
Abruptly, he released her. His body ached with need, but his mind remembered her fear. His desire was too urgent, and he sensed that she feared his raw passion more than anything. Even he was appalled by the untamed fever which was urging him to rut with her on the beach like a stallion gone wild with the irresi
stible scent of a female in heat.
But as a man, he had the means to control his lust, to slow down and take time to pleasure his wife, to make her ready for his loving. It had been a long time since he had sought control. His couplings in recent years had been quick and violent, satisfying his body before his emotions could be touched. Mingling with his passion was a dread that echoed Rhiannon's. A part of him feared making love instead of merely coupling. What if this woman came to mean more to him than he intended?
He turned to stare at Rhiannon. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dazed but not yet fearful. It was only a flicker, but he could sense longing in her face, almost imagine she desired him. He felt very close to her, as if their spirits had touched briefly. It came from the mood conjured up by the sunrise, the mountains, the sea. Like him, she responded to the land and heeded its call. Now something else primal called him. He wanted to lay her down upon the soft sand and love her like the waves washing over her. He would be the sun and pierce her body with his light...
"Maelgwn?"
He shivered at the touch of her hand against his chest. He could feel the fire of her caress burning down his body. He looked into her eyes and saw tenderness. She knew his need and sought to gratify it. Her delicate fingers moved lower, finding the tie to his trousers. She did not fumble. Her touch was easy and sure. She freed his shaft from his clothes and began to stroke him. The flame shot down his body...
"No," he moaned. She released him and backed away. "Not like that, Rhiannon. Any woman can satisfy me that way; I can even do it myself. What I want is you."
Her eyes burned with agony. She wanted to please him, but her fear held her hostage. Frustration boiled up inside him. Should he let her pleasure him? It would take the edge from his lust but brought them no nearer to joining their bodies.
Dragon's Dream Page 9
