Everlasting

by Charlene Cross

  “For what poor soul this time?”

  “For yours.”

  She made no effort to slow her pace. “You’re wasting your breath, Father,” she said. “’Twould serve you better if you prayed for Sir Paxton’s. He’s the one who needs your prayers, not I.”

  “I’ve been praying for his soul as well.”

  “Do you think it helped?”

  “I hope so… in fact, I’m certain of it. That is why I came to search you out. I would like for you and Sir Paxton to meet with me. There is much to discuss. Your hearts and souls must be made right with God before either of you can go forward with the ceremony.”

  Alana skidded to a halt. “Ceremony? What ceremony?”

  Father Jevon blinked. “Surely you are by now aware of Henry’s edict?”

  Edict! If there was such a thing, this was news to her. “Concerning what?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “Why, your marriage to Paxton de Beaumont, of course.”

  CHAPTER

  10

  Alana stared at the priest as though he’d just sprouted a set of donkey ears.

  “My marriage to Paxton de Beaumont?” she asked, thinking he was very much an ass if he really believed she’d wed the rogue.

  “Yes, my child. It has been decreed by Henry that the two of you shall unite in wedlock.”

  She should have known. From the instant she’d learned there was a priest amidst the small group, she’d wondered about his presence. Stupidly she’d allowed herself to believe he’d come to save their heathen souls. If that was one of his reasons for being here, it was a lesser one, for now she knew his main purpose was to perform the nuptials between Paxton and herself, and it was at Henry’s bidding.

  This couldn’t be happening! “I have the right to refuse, don’t I?” she asked, her emotions spinning around and around like a top gone askew.

  “By ordinance of the Church, you do have the right to reject any man,” Father Jevon responded. “But since your king has ordered the marriage, I’d suggest that you think twice before spurning his decree.”

  Alana was awash with relief. “Henry was Gilbert’s king, Father Jevon. Not mine. Therefore he has no say over anything I do.”

  “Oh, but you’re wrong,” Paxton announced.

  Alana’s gaze shot over Father Jevon’s shoulder to see Paxton was standing only a few feet behind the priest, Gwenifer beside him. So involved in her conversation was she with Father Jevon she hadn’t noticed their approach.

  Her ire rose, and her chin lifted. “I think not,” Alana said, squaring her shoulders.

  Paxton came forward to stop mere inches from her. “The day you married Gilbert you made yourself Henry’s subject, Alana. Those are our king’s words, almost verbatim. He also said that if you were to disobey him, you would not like the consequences of such an action. Henry’s temper is notorious. If I were you, I’d think again before I challenged him in any way.”

  “I won’t marry you,” she bit out.

  “We’ll see.”

  He turned back to Gwenifer, whose face had gone pale. Alana’s heart went out to her cousin, for they’d both been duped by Paxton.

  “You are due an explanation, but that will have to come later,” he told Gwenifer. “For now, I’d like to speak to Alana alone. Therefore I ask that you go into the hall and wait for me.”

  Gwenifer nodded, then with her poise appearing to be fully intact, she did as Paxton had bade.

  How could her cousin be so calm? Alana wondered, knowing her own composure was precisely nil. She had to get away from Paxton before the anger inside her erupted with such fury that both men would cower at its force. She made a move to depart, but Paxton caught her arm. Once the door had closed behind Gwenifer, he turned on the priest.

  “I thought, Father Jevon, that we agreed you would keep silent until I gave notice that Alana and I were to be married.”

  “But I was certain you had come to that decision.” Paxton’s jaw hardened noticeably, and the priest dropped his gaze to his feet. “’Tis now obvious that you hadn’t. Mayhap it is time I retired to the chapel to say my prayers.”

  “An excellent idea, Father,” Paxton declared, his tone biting. “Say several for yourself while you’re at it.”

  “I will, my son. Believe me I will.”

  In growing irritation, Alana had listened to the exchange. After the priest had shuffled off toward the chapel, her gaze leveled in on Paxton, and she demanded, “Take your hand off me, Norman.”

  “Nay,” he answered, then began guiding her toward the side gate.

  “What are you doing? Where are we going?”

  “To the wood so we can have a private talk.”

  “You scurrilous son of the devil—there is nothing to talk about,” she announced, her heels now digging into the ground.

  The effort was a waste, for he pulled her along with ease.

  “I won’t marry you, and you cannot make me,” she insisted.

  The words were uttered as he practically dragged her out into the wood. Alana looked around in surprise, for she hadn’t even heard him order the gate opened.

  He hauled her down the path, then turned into the trees. Glimpsing him, she saw the tic in his jaw. That in itself should have warned her. But when she marked that he was taking her to the same area where he’d taken Gwenifer, she let her anger fly.

  “I hate you, Paxton de Beaumont… hate you with every inch of my—”

  The air whooshed from her lungs as her back suddenly met the trunk of a tree. Blinking, she stared into Paxton’s face as he pressed her against the rough bark.

  “Do you, Alana? Are you certain you hate me? Or do you feel something else entirely but are afraid to admit it.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Am I? I heard you come through the wood a while ago, knew you were watching Gwenifer and me. If you hated me that much, why didn’t you show yourself and demand that I keep away from your cousin. You had the power to order her back to the castle, Alana. All the Welsh listen to you. They’d never disobey you, Gwenifer included. But you did none of these things. Instead you scrambled back up the hill as though you were being chased by a pack of ravenous wolves. Why?”

  Alana’s heart was hammering in her ears. Oh God, he knew she was there, knew she was spying! She felt her embarrassment rise and sought to deny his claim as she snarled, “You’re imagining things, Norman. I was never in the wood while you and Gwenifer were here.”

  “You weren’t? Then come. Let’s go ask the guard. I’ll wager he’ll say otherwise.” He pulled back slightly. “Come along.”

  “No.” The word was but a miserable groan that trembled in her throat. “Why are you doing this?”

  “To prove that you don’t hate me. But you do desire me, Alana. The same as I desire you. That’s why you ran from the wood. You couldn’t abide seeing me with Gwenifer. That’s the truth of it, isn’t it?”

  She’d die before she’d admit that he was right. He could beat her within an inch of her life. He could kill her altogether! She’d never, ever tell him that what he’d guessed was fact.

  She felt her tears rising ever closer to the surface. She had to be free of him before she started blubbering like a fool. “Get away from me, Norman,” she said, surprised that she had managed that much. “If you want the truth, here it is: You repulse me.”

  He pressed into her more fully. “And I shall prove otherwise,” he whispered close to her mouth.

  Then his lips were on hers.

  As his mouth ravaged hers in a hard, tantalizing kiss, Alana didn’t know what she had expected. She’d challenged him, and he had to prove her a liar. Which, misery of miseries, she was.

  The heat inside her was building. Her skin burned, and her arms ached unbearably to hold him. Yet she resisted.

  Remember.

  The word he’d uttered after kissing her once before came to mind just as his tongue plunged between her lips to forage at will, and she could no longer hold
back. She moaned and gave herself over to his mastery.

  His kiss deepened as he moved his hips against her. She felt the evidence of his desire and knew hers to be equal by the sudden moistness between her legs.

  Then his open lips slid across her cheek. “You want me,” he said, his hot breath fanning against her ear. “And God knows I want you. But we will not come together, Alana… not until we’ve said our vows.”

  “I wont marry you,” she whimpered.

  He nibbled at her ear. “You will.”

  “Nay.”

  He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “You will, Alana. You lied to me when you said I repulsed you. I learned today that you’ve lied to me before.”

  Her stupor of desire disintegrated, and she grew very still. “W-what do you mean?”

  “Rhys.”

  She felt her stomach turn upside-down. Had he discovered the truth about Gilbert? “What about Rhys?”

  “He is not three hundred strong but only a third of that, half of which are children. I’d say the odds are now suddenly on my side.”

  Gwenifer—she’d told him, Alana thought.

  “If you continue to refuse me, I might have no choice but to ride against him. But if you cooperate with me, your kin across the river will remain safe.” He caught hold of her chin. “You will marry me, Alana. ’Tis only a matter of time. When I say the moment is right, you will become my wife.”

  With that he dropped his hand and backed away from her. Too stunned to move, Alana watched as he began striding from the wood.

  “Are you coming?” he inquired on turning back to her.

  She shoved away from the tree and trailed him toward the path.

  Marriage, she thought. And to another Norman. Yet, considering his threat, what choice did she have?

  The question was posed, and the answer came with clarity…

  Absolutely none.

  “I don’t understand,” Gwenifer said. “If you were intending to marry Alana, why then were you prone to seek my attentions? In the wood, you were… well, I’m inclined to believe you were merely trifling with me.”

  Paxton studied Gwenifer. He’d thought it was the other way around. From the second she came down the stairs on the day of her arrival, Alana beside her, she’d been more than a bit congenial toward him. But then he’d accepted her overtures—had encouraged them in fact! He’d even presented her with a few overtures of his own. His motives, though, were not to promote an intimate relationship. Far from it.

  What was he to tell her: His advances were fostered only as a means to glean information about Alana?

  And this matter about their being in the wood. In truth he was trifling with her. Even so, he couldn’t very well tell her that he’d orchestrated the intimate scene between them simply because he knew Alana was watching.

  Paxton sighed inwardly. He’d built a certain rapport with Gwenifer, and for reasons that were purely selfish, he didn’t want the harmony between them to fall into ruin. There were yet questions that needed to be answered. He despised using her this way, but there was little else that could be done.

  Likewise, it was obvious that he’d managed to injure her feelings, and he didn’t want to hurt Gwenifer further. But he knew, at some point, her pride would suffer again. Yet there was no way around it.

  Releasing his breath, he came up off the edge of the table where he’d perched himself in a secluded corner of the hall. In a few steps, he was beside her.

  “Henry gave the edict that Alana and I were to be married. But he also said the decision of whether or not the marriage would go forth was in fact mine. Of all here, only Sir Graham, the priest, and I knew of the decree. And that is the way it would have stayed if Father Jevon, in his eagerness to perform his duties for both God and king, hadn’t made Alana aware of Henry’s directive.”

  “Considering her reaction, do you still plan to wed her?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  Gwenifer inclined her head. “Do you love her?”

  Did he? He wanted Alana, desired her like no other. But love? “Nay,” he said, believing the statement to be true.

  Gwenifer’s face brightened, then once again grew serious. “Before you decide,” she said, “I caution you to remember the differences between Gilbert and Alana, which are identical to your own. Not much happiness came from their union. In light of that, are you willing to opt for the same?” Those words said, she left Paxton’s side.

  As he watched her go, Paxton frowned. To spend his life in misery—is that what he wanted?

  Not really.

  Yet, if there were strife between Gilbert and Alana, it was probably Gilbert’s own fault.

  Paxton knew his friend well. Unfortunately, selfishness had been one of Gilbert’s deficiencies. That he hadn’t managed to overcome the failure was made clear when Alana had let slip the tidings about the lack of warmth in their marriage bed.

  As for himself, he might not love Alana, but he knew how to make love to her. She’d not be left wanting. Never by him. And to that end, they did have one thing in common: mutual desire.

  Likewise, the pleasure that they would derive from each other was certain to form a bond between them. In time, they might come to love each other. But even if it were only in bed, some joy was bound to come from their union.

  The one thing that made him hesitate was the question of trust. But once that was resolved to his satisfaction, nothing would stand in their way. Their marriage would go forth.

  The knowledge pleased Paxton, for on that day, just as Henry had promised, the castle, its inhabitants, and all the land, as far as the eye could see and beyond, would at last be his.

  And so would Alana.

  Upstairs, Alana wrung her hands as she paced the floor of her chamber.

  Blessed Saint David! she thought. Surely there had to be a way to stop this farce of a marriage.

  Over and over again, she bewailed the notion of them becoming husband and wife. But other than running a sword through the rogue, she could think of no way out.

  Damn Henry’s edict! And damn Paxton as well!

  The condemnations shot through her head just as the door to her chamber opened.

  Gwenifer! Of all people, she was the last person Alana wanted to see—except for Paxton.

  “I just finished talking with Paxton and came to see if you were all right,” Gwenifer said. “Oh, Alana, I cannot believe this is happening.”

  Neither could Alana. It probably wouldn’t have come this far if it weren’t for Gwenifer and her loose tongue. It was time her cousin learned a few hard truths, mainly about Paxton.

  “Close the door,” Alana ordered, “then come over here and sit down.”

  At first, Gwenifer faltered, then she secured the room. “Are you in some way angry with me?” she asked as she made her way to the chair. “Believe me I had no knowledge of Henry’s edict. If I had, I certainly wouldn’t have made a fool of myself over your affianced the way I did. Besides, you were the one who encouraged me to seek him out.”

  Alana bristled at the term affianced, especially when she thought bastard would suit him better. Biting her tongue, she attempted to calm herself, then waited until Gwenifer sank into the chair.

  “That’s one of the things I want to talk to you about,” she said. “It appears, Gwenifer, that Paxton de Beaumont has played us both for fools. I’m in no way angry with you, and I take full responsibility for having encouraged you to build a relationship with him, if that’s what you wanted. Of course, at the time, neither of us knew about Henry’s edict.”

  “No, we didn’t.” Gwenifer nibbled at her lip. “Do you intend to marry him?”

  “It seems I have no choice.”

  “But the priest said you could refuse. Surely that is your way out if you wish to take it.”

  “Not anymore,” Alana said.

  “Why?”

  “Because in your intimate talks with Paxton, you let something slip, and he is now using it against me
.”

  “That’s impossible!” Gwenifer cried. “I never told him anything of consequence. Certainly nothing he could use in way of coercion.”

  “Did he perchance ask about my kin across the river and how many they numbered?”

  “I suppose he did.”

  “And did you tell him they were just a hundred strong?”

  “I guess I did,” Gwenifer answered. “But how could he use that against you?”

  “He has threatened to ride against Rhys and destroy them all.”

  Gwenifer blanched. “But why?”

  Drawing a breath, Alana explained about the slaughter of the first group to leave the castle. “Sir Goddard somehow made it back here. He told Paxton that it was my kin who attacked them. When Paxton first questioned me, I evaded answering him as best I could. I didn’t know if Rhys had assailed the knights or not.”

  “You lied to him?”

  “Not exactly. I just didn’t inform him about Rhys and the others. He knew that none here had followed the group on its departure, so he let the accusation pass, believing it was naught more than a wounded man’s delirious ramblings.”

  “But he soon learned otherwise,” Gwenifer commented.

  “Aye. When he was recovered from his injuries, Sir Goddard told Paxton about Rhys. Paxton in turn confronted me.”

  “And that’s when you lied to him.”

  “I had no choice,” Alana said. “I feared he would retaliate against Rhys for the Normans who were slain. In order to protect my mother’s kin, I told him that they numbered over three times the sum of his own men. It worked. With the odds being against him as they were, he decided not to seek his revenge.”

  “But today I unwittingly told him the truth, and now he is holding it over your head. Oh, Alana, whatever can we do?”

  “For one, you are to stay away from him. Otherwise, just as you did today about Rhys, you might give something else away that he’ll use against me in some other manner.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know.” Alana did know, but she wasn’t about to voice such to Gwenifer. “What else has he been questioning you about?”