Sharon Schulze - L'eau Clair Chronicles 03

by Heart of the Dragon

  “I apologize for carrying trouble to your door.”

  “You did the right thing. Where else should you come, but to us? And where should you bring Lily, but to your sister?”

  “I could have taken her straight to Gillian at l’Eau Clair.”

  Nicholas shook his head.

  “No. It would be too much for Lily to bear all at once. Despite the fact that she went to Llywelyn in search of her family, I doubt this was quite what she had in mind,” he added wryly. He took a turn about the circular room before stopping in front of Ian.

  “You do realize you’ll have to marry Lily, don’t you? I can’t see that there’s any better alternative.”

  Heart pounding wildly, Ian shot to his feet and glared at Nicholas.

  “Are you mad?”

  Nicholas returned to his own seat before he answered.

  “Not at all. If you were thinking clearly, you’d see the sense in it. Perhaps you haven’t considered all the possible ramifications of Llywelyn’s scheme.”

  “What do you mean?” He thought he’d looked at it from every direction, but he might be wrong. Had he been naive all these years? He had known Llywelyn was capable of many things, not all of them good. But, God help him, he’d never suspected him of plotting and planning like this.

  “So long as Lily is alive, Gillian, Rannulf and Katherine are in danger. All your damned princely cousin has to do is get rid of them and place Lily at l’Eau Clair with or without a husband he can control. So long as that remains possible, Lily’s very existence presents a threat to her sister—and to Gillian’s daughter.”

  Ian nodded wearily.

  “I’d thought of some of that, but not all.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, seeking re-lief—from the aches of his tired body, from the helpless thoughts circling round and round in his overwhelmed mind.

  “Thank God you know the situation well.”

  “I was Gillian’s guardian for long enough to learn something about it.” Nicholas laughed; Ian had to join in.

  Gillian had nigh made Nicholas daft, those months when she was unwillingly under his thumb.

  “And there are few secrets in this family.”

  “There are none at all between Catrin and Gillian, I think.” Ian sighed and gazed into his cup.

  “As I’m sure you’ve learned, to your everlasting sorrow.”

  “Let’s just say that it’s a good thing I love Gillian well, or your sister would see I paid for my stupidity.” Ian heard Nicholas shifting in his chair and looked up to find the other man watching him with a speculative light in his odd violet eyes.

  “What is it?” Ian demanded. He set his goblet on the table beside him and waited.

  “To get back to what I was saying—if you wed Lily, it would be the best solution. For a number of reasons,” he added when Ian would have spoken.

  “Not the least of which is that you want her.”

  “Of course I do—I’m a man, after all, and not dead.

  You’d want her,. too, I imagine, if you didn’t have Catrin.” The look he sent his brother-by-marriage said it had better not happen.

  “Not the way you want her. Or the way she wants you, Dragon. “There must be something wrong with your eyes, Talbot,” Ian snarled.

  “Or yours.”

  Ian prowled the close confines of the room, cursing his sister’s predilection for cluttering up the space with furnishings.

  It made it damned difficult for a man to pace off his frustrations. Finally he spun and faced Nicholas.

  “We strike sparks off each other, ‘tis tree. But that doesn’t mean I’d make her—or any woman—a fit husband.

  Besides, if she knew even half the things I’ve done, she’d never come near me again.”

  “You judge yoUrself too harshly, Ian. I think you always have.”

  “I do not. She was raised in a convent. Her mind is as ignorant of sin as any saint’s.” Though she wouldn’t stay that way for long in his company, he thought as he turned to stare out the window at the dying sun. Try though he might, he could not ignore the insidious heat the mere thought of Lily sent running through his veins.

  “I doubt she has any idea what I’m capable of.” He dragged his hands through his hair. He could not bear it if she allowed him close, then pushed him away.

  How could he blame her if she did?

  He knew better than anyone, save God himself, the darkness in his soul.

  He heard Nicholas walk up to him, felt the other man place his hand on his shoulder for a moment.

  “She knows, Ian. But she wants you anyway. Take a chance on happiness, my friend. You deserve it.”

  Nicholas’s words lingered in Ian’s head long after he went off to rest and refresh himself. As he lay back in a tub of steaming water in his chamber, Ian closed his eyes and let the bath soak away his tension, his worries.

  He’d nearly fallen asleep with his head resting back against the padded rim of the tub–perhaps he had been sleeping—when the sound of footsteps startled his eyes open.

  “Need your back washed?” Catrin asked. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she clambered up onto the edge of the high bed.

  “If you do, I should go get Lily. I’m certain you would prefer her help over mine.”

  “No, thank you,” he said evenly.

  “I’ll manage just fine on my own.”

  Jesu, was his every thought and feeling written all over his face? Dai, Nicholas, and now Catrin–each of them seemed able to look into him and see far too much.

  “Truly, Ian. Is there anything you need?” she asked, her voice serious.

  “You do know how glad I am to see you, don’t you?”

  He looked up and met her gaze. Her gray eyes held love and concern for him. Despite their squabbling, they were very close. They always had been, even before their parents’ deaths at the hands of a rampaging warlord. The arguments and teasing were simply their way of showing their affection for each other. He trusted Catrin with more of himself than he did anyone else, although she’d never seen all the ugliness he tried to keep hidden from her. But deep down he knew that side of him would not matter to her. Her love was unconditional, and as necessary to him as breathing. He only sought to spare her grief, for he knew how she worded about him.

  It occurred to him that perhaps she was more like him than he had realized. Last year, he’d discovered the secrets Catrin had kept hidden, from everyone, for many years.

  Those dark and anguished memories must have evoked feelings he would recognize all too well.

  “Twas no use hiding anything from her now. Who better than his sister, the last of his immediate family, to understand his fears?

  “I’ve been about the prince’s business of late—too much, I think. Perhaps familiarity has blinded me to his machinations.” He scooped water into his hand, then watched as it trickled through his fingers. He forced himself to look up and meet her gaze.

  “Dai is dead.”

  “No!” she gasped, pressing her hand to her heart.

  Tears filled her eyes, making him regret the abrupt way he’d told her.

  “How did it happen?”

  “One of Llywelyn’s men caught him on his way to warn us. He’d been shot. He was already past help by the time he reached us. I left him there, for he felt we needed to run.”

  How it galled him to have treated Dai with so little respect! Leaving his body there—unattended, unprotected-seemed to Ian a sacrilege.

  Evidently Catrin could see how it bothered him.

  “Nicholas will send someone—” “He already has,” he told her.

  “I’m just sorry I didn’t bring Dai’s body with us.”

  Catrin climbed down from the mattress.

  “Would you like me to leave so you can get out?”

  ID

  He shook his head.

  “I intend to stay in here until the water is stone-cold.”

  She gestured toward the kettle steaming on the hearth.<
br />
  “I could warm the water for you.”

  “No. The colder, the better.” And even that wouldn’t help.

  “Ah.” She rolled her eyes.

  “No wonder you don’t want Lily to come wash your back.” Her gaze settled on the fine carpet spread across the floor. ““Tis just as well.

  That rug is very valuable, I’m told, and I’m exceptionally fond of it. I’d hate to see it ruined by a flood.”

  He tossed the sponge at her. She batted it away with a shriek, eyeing the water dripping down her bliaut with a scowl.

  “What do you think of your new cousin?” he asked, not even bothering to hide his interest in her response.

  Catrin dragged a chair over to sit nearer the tub.

  “She’s beautiful, sweet, biddable—” Ian choked back a snort of laughter.

  “Which part did I get wrong?”

  “The ‘biddable’ part,” he said dryly.

  “Although you’re right about the others.”

  “That poor child—” “Woman.”

  She sent him a triumphant grin.

  “That poor woman needs us to help her, Ian. I knew Llywelyn was capable of just about anything, but this… This truly enrages me.”

  Ian stared down at the water’s rippling surface.

  “Do you have any idea the shame I feel?” he asked roughly.

  “There’s nothing you could have done to stop this, Ian.

  You didn’t know. None of us did. If we had known, it certainly would never have gone on so long.”

  “I realize that. No, I mean shame for the things I’ve done.” He looked up at her, seeking to make her understand.

  “If this had been someone else, some other family, I would probably have praised Llywelyn for his impressive scheme. It is impressive—he is capable of a great and far-reaching vision. I have set his plans in motion, plans worse than this, I assure you. And I’ve gloried in the reputation I’ve gained for it. Llywelyn’s Dragon! I would do almost anything for him, to advance the cause.”

  “Uniting Wales is a noble cause.”

  “But the things we’ve done to gain it are not,” he said flatly.

  “And I’m the greatest of hypocrites if I don’t see that I’ve been no better than he.” He scooped the cool water over his face and rubbed at his eyes.

  He heard Catrin cross the room, then felt a stream of warm water splash over him. The kettle clattered to the floor, and then Catrin picked up the sponge and began to rub it across his back.

  “Relax, Ian. Be at ease,” she said soothingly.

  “You’ve carried the weight of Llywelyn’s plots and vengeance for too long. Let us help you, for a change. You can lighten your vigilance for yet a while.

  We’ll allow no harm to come to Lily.”

  He leaned his head forward and let his tension melt away beneath Catrin’s ministrations.

  “Aye,” he mumbled groggily.

  “For a little while.”

  Despite his promise to Catrin that he’d lie down and rest, sleep wouldn’t come to him once she’d left. His body felt better once he’d bathed and eaten, but his mind refused to let him be.

  He couldn’t decide if what he felt was guilt or shame.

  But whatever the emotion, it surged unchecked though him. If he sat in this room, it would drive him mad.

  He shoved his feet into his boots and slammed out of the chamber in search of action. He needed the cleansing release of a good, hard fight.

  But he found himself standing outside Lily’s door.

  He hesitated to knock, in case she’d had better luck than he at failing asleep. She ought to be resting like a babe, he thought. Her conscience was clear, as clean as fresh snow. He didn’t intend to do anything to change that fact, either, he reminded himself.

  His fingers had already unlatched the door before he realized that was what he intended to do. Just to see her, watch her—watch over her—as she slept. Perhaps, in the presence of such purity, he could find peace.

  He pulled off his boots and set them inside the door, then crept across the room to the bed.

  His eyes swiftly adjusted to the faint moonlight as he gazed upon her. Her hair lay all about her like a cloak, covering her shoulders, but allowing him a glimpse of one silk-clad breast.

  The fabric clung to her, caressed her flesh as his fingers itched to do. A sheet lay rumpled about her legs in complete disarray, as though it had taken her a while—a restless time—to find slumber.

  A strand of hair clung to her lips. He brushed it away, his fingertips lingering for a moment. Perhaps he’d tickled her, for her mouth curved into a smile.

  “Ian?” she murmured, eyes still closed.

  He knelt beside the bed.

  “Aye, ‘tis Ian,” he whispered.

  He smoothed her hair away from her brow and pressed a kiss there.

  “Go back to sleep.”

  Though she never opened her eyes, her hand reached for his and found it with unerring accuracy. She brought his fingers to her mouth and pressed her lips upon the back of his hand, then curved his palm about her cheek.

  Her breathing settled back into the slow, even rhythm of sleep, her lips still curled in a smile.

  He could not—nay, would not leave this place for the promise of salvation. Never moving his hand, Ian shifted into a more comfortable position on the floor and rested his head beside her on the mattress.

  Content at last, he let his eyelids drift closed, holding the image of Lily.

  A hand rested beneath her cheek, but she knew it didn’t belong to her. The short, wiry hairs along the back of it tickled her skin, and she opened her eyes.

  Ian knelt beside the bed, his head nestled against her breast. She’d apparently curled about him in her sleep.

  For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt warm, rested, content.

  Although the position he was in looked far from comfortable, he seemed to be sleeping soundly. She didn’t dare move, for fear she’d wake him from his well-deserved rest.

  But it was torture to lie here like this, with his breath wafting over her nipple in a subtle caress. She reached out to touch the dark haft curling over his brow, and his eyes snapped open, fixing her in place.

  “Good morrow to you.” The husky rumble of his voice vibrating against her sensitive flesh sent an answering shiver through her.

  “Is it morning already?” A stupid question, she realized as soon as the words left her mouth. The sun was streaming through the shutters, painting them with strips of light.

  She could hear sound rising up from the bailey, but it was distant, remote. It seemed that she and Ian lay in a gilded cocoon, separate from the world—in their own world, where nothing of ugliness could touch them.

  “Aye, milady.” He moved his head slightly and, his gaze never leaving hers, pressed a kiss on the upper curve of her breast.

  “Twas the exact spot where the silk of her shift gave way to her bare flesh; the silk slipped over her skin, intensifying the sensation.

  Or perhaps his eyes, holding her captive, caused that melting feeling.

  She was reluctant to break the spell, but still, she hadn’t expected to awaken beside him.

  “Why are you here?”

  He lowered his gaze, leaving her bereft.

  “I came to check on you in the night.” He toyed with the strands of hair draped over her shoulder.

  “I needed to see you, to be near you, Lily. When I saw you resting so peacefully, I decided to stay for a while. I must have drifted off.” He shifted against her, setting off more sparks.

  “You make a most comfortable pillow.”

  A battle raged within her as she watched Ian’s face, watched the play of emotions she knew he didn’t think she saw. He did need her—for comfort, at least, though he’d never call it that. Even if that was all he’d ever want from her, she’d give it gladly, in whatever form he wanted. She’d thought long and hard about it last night, when she could n
ot sleep. Perhaps she’d come into his life to give him something. Certainly he’d already done so much for her, she could never repay him.

  And she was selfish, she admitted to herself. He’d aroused a host of foreign emotions within her, feelings she couldn’t imagine exploring with anyone but him.

  Freedom came in many forms, she saw that now. It wasn’t just the ability to leave one place for another. There were worlds to explore without ever going anywhere.

  And she wanted to explore them with Ian.

  She touched his cheek.

  “Will you think I want too much if I ask you to kiss me? I swear to you, I’ll ask for nothing more.”

  His eyes darkened, the color drawing her in like the cool green depths of the forest, providing sanctuary.

  “I

  would be honored to kiss you, Lily.”

  He rose to his knees and rested his weight on one hand, brushing aside her sleep-tousled hair with the other.

  “Where shall I kiss you? Here?” His lips brushed over her brow as softly as a butterfly’s wings.

  “Or here?” He raised her hand to his mouth and trailed his tongue over the sensitive skin of her inner wrist.

  She would have closed her eyes to savor each new touch, every nuance, every feeling, but he held her gaze enraptured with his own. By the time he released her, her body felt weighted by a languorous spell.

  He ran the tip of his tongue lingeringly up the length of her arm to her shoulder, leaving a path of liquid fire in his wake.

  “Or here, perhaps?” he asked, nuzzling the valley between her breasts.

  Her breath left her in a sigh.

  “Yes.”

  He chuckled, tickling her. He drew back to watch her face, his eyes searching.

  “Which one?”

  She stared, transfixed by the changes passion had wrought in his face. His features seemed sharper, more defined, and a flush rode high along his cheekbones. Black curls tumbled over his forehead. His lips looked full and soft amid the dark stubble along his jaw.

  And his eyes saw to her very soul.

  “Any of them. All of them,” she said with a sigh. His mouth closed over hers.

  Yes.

  Chapter Eleven