She blushed, turning to Willow, where she waited at the edge of the river, her shoes and hose a disordered pile on the mossy bank.
To Elizabeth’s further surprise, Raynor sat down and began to remove his own footwear. She watched him as he pulled his hose down, for a moment exposing the long, muscular length of his thigh, before his tunic covered him again. Her breath caught, and her heart began to hammer in an erratic rhythm.
He glanced up at her, this time seemingly oblivious of her reaction. “Are you not going to join us?”
Willow grabbed her hand, her feet patting the ground in an uneven rhythm. “Yes, yes, Elizabeth, you too.”
“But it’s been years,” she countered helplessly.
“All the more reason to do so,” Raynor told her, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I'll get my gown soaked.”
He moved toward her, grabbing up the ends of her trailing cote. Artfully he began to tie the garment about her waist. “If we fix it like so, it will be fine,” he said, then backed away to examine his handiwork. “And even if you do get wet,” he added with a matter-of-fact shrug, “’twill dry soon enough in this heat.”
Elizabeth recognized the reckless side of his nature taking over. Even though there was no danger in wading in the river, the idea appealed to the unconventional in him.
Without even knowing why she was doing so, Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, I will come wading.”
With the decision made, she wasted no time in ridding herself of her own hose and shoes.
As she stood, Willow took Elizabeth’s hand, clutching it tightly. Obviously the little girl was a bit nervous, as well as excited about what she was about to do. Elizabeth gave her tiny fingers a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
Thinking to help allay the child’s fears, Elizabeth stepped in first. She gasped in surprise as the chilly water swirled about her ankles. “'Tis...very cool.” She looked up to see Raynor’s amused expression.
Raynor waded in next, with a husky chuckle. “Aye, but not too cool. We shall be accustomed in only a moment.”
Elizabeth was already discovering the truth of his words. She turned to Willow, urging her to step in. “Just come slowly.”
Her eyes dancing with a mixture of joy and fear, Willow dipped her toes in the water, then jumped in. Water sprayed up to dot the other two, and they all laughed aloud.
The memory of the next hour was to become one of the most precious of Elizabeth’s life.
Raynor was warm and playful, as she’d never seen him, splashing both her and Willow with gleeful abandon.
Elizabeth had to repay him in kind, and they ended with all of them getting quite soaked.
When Elizabeth deemed they had had enough of the water, she had to lure them out with reminders that lunch awaited them on shore.
Because they were now wet from the splashing, Raynor suggested they move the blanket out into the sun. Readily Elizabeth agreed.
The three of them feasted on bread, cheese, meat and watered wine. They ate with a hearty relish born of their play in the river.
Willow finished her portion quickly. Then, giving a beatific smile, she settled back on the blanket to sleep.
By now their clothing had dried in the heat of the July sun, and Raynor carefully pulled the blanket into the shade. He smiled down at his daughter as he did so, saying, “Her skin is so fair. I would not have her burned.”
This time, Elizabeth felt no twinge of loneliness, for she felt as if she were part of them.
It was this sense of belonging that gave her the courage to ask Raynor a question as he settled back on the blanket beside her. “Was Louisa fair, as Willow is?”
He stretched out on his back, pillowing his head on his bent arm. He stared into the treetops for so long that Elizabeth thought he was not going to answer. Then, softly, he said, “Aye, she was. Willow’s coloring is just as her mother’s.”
Elizabeth knew an incredible surge of happiness. Raynor had answered her. This was the first time he had spoken of anything personal without anger prodding him on.
Mayhap this day did mark a change in their relationship, though she did not know what might have brought the change about. Could the mistake he had made about her and Bronic the previous day have taught him a lesson? Was Raynor ready to try to make a marriage with her? To trust?
Good sense told Elizabeth not to question too much, but to enjoy this moment while she could. It might not last.
Knowing this could be her one chance to tell Raynor some of the things she most dearly wanted to say, Elizabeth spoke. “Louisa was a fool, you know. Not to have married you was a frightful mistake on her part.”
He grew incredibly still, not looking at her. “What do you mean?”
She bit her lip, hoping she had not hurt him, but needing to say the things in her heart. “I mean she could have saved you so much grief in making you her husband and Willow’s legitimate father.”
He spoke softly, and Elizabeth thought she heard a note of disappointment in his voice. “I see you think of the child. No doubt you are right, but I have claimed her as I aught, so there is no use wishing Louisa had wed me to make the babe legitimate.” He turned to Willow, and Elizabeth could hear the love in his tone, even though she couldn’t read his face. “I could care for the child no more if I had been wed to her mother.”
Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth urged herself on, to say what she really wanted to. “I mean not only for Willow, but for you. It was wrong of her to hurt you so. You are a good and loving father, and would have made her a husband such as women dream of. She was a fool to reject your love.”
There, she had said it. Would he guess how much of her own feelings were behind the words? Would he see how much she had come to care for him?
Slowly Raynor rose up to face her, his expression carefully blank. Why was Elizabeth speaking to him this way? She seemed almost angry with Louisa for not having loved him. Though he searched hard, there was nothing in her face to mark the emotions behind her words.
But he knew he had to explain something to Elizabeth, to make her understand how it had been between himself and Louisa. He began hesitantly. “Elizabeth, you have some misconception of Louisa’s and my relationship. There was no love between us, as you imagine. It was more as a brother and sister that we cared for each other. We had known one another since early childhood. My parents cared little what Bronic and I did, so long as we caused them no trouble. We wandered the wood between here and Harrington at will. It was there, in the forest, that we met Louisa and Nigel. She was Bronic’s age, just two years younger than my eleven, and Nigel was thirteen.” For once there was no hatred in his voice when he spoke the other man’s name. “We became fast friends, the four of us.” He frowned. “Though even then, Nigel seemed somewhat jealous of her. He was ever challenging Louisa to do some dangerous feat. I suppose it was her inheritance, even then. You see, Louisa was to have nearly all. Her mother had come to his father a wealthy widow. Everything that had been her husband’s was to pass to Louisa. Harrington only had use of the money and lands until Louisa married or reached her majority.” Raynor heard Elizabeth’s gasp of surprise, but said nothing more. He knew that he was coming as close to explaining what had happened to Louisa as he ever could. For some reason, it had become important to him for Elizabeth to know how it had been between him and Willow’s mother. That he had felt protective and loving toward her, but not as a lover.
Elizabeth said, “Is that the cause of the bad blood between you and Lord Harrington? That he was jealous over Louisa’s inheritance?” Then Elizabeth stopped, with a hand over her lips. “Nay, I'm sorry I asked, Raynor. I made a promise not to question you further on that. It is just that I want so desperately to understand. Pray forget I spoke.”
Raynor forced himself to relax the muscles that had grown taut at her queries. A growing hope rose inside him. Elizabeth had done what she said she would, withdrawing her own questions, without a word from him. Mayhap they could come to h
ave something together.
He sent a fond glance to his sleeping daughter. It seemed even more important than before for his wife to know him. “Louisa was so like Willow. Bright and alive and loving, but too trusting of the world around her. Even when we were children I felt it was my duty to protect her. Nigel’s father cared little for her, and she was lonely.”
He looked at Elizabeth, willing her to comprehend how it had been. “She was the sister of my heart, if not my sister by birth.”
Elizabeth gazed back at him, then spoke, as if she could not prevent herself from saying what was in her mind. “But you had a child together?”
Raynor frowned. She had him there. From Elizabeth’s position, what he was saying could not make any sense. He wanted to, but could not, tell her the truth. He could not betray Louisa’s trust in him, even for Elizabeth.
He leaned closer to her, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Elizabeth, I have asked you for little in the time we have been married. This once I ask that you believe me when I tell that Louisa refused to marry me because she did not love me in that way and she knew I felt the same of her. She insisted that I be free to love where I would.” He shook his head sadly. “I did everything I could to convince her, and still Louisa would not be swayed. But it was not to hurt me. What she did was out of love for me.”
For a long moment, Elizabeth watched him. Then, as she looked into his dark eyes, she came to a decision. How could she doubt the truth of what he said? It was there for her to see in the unshuttered pain in his gaze. For reasons known only to them, Raynor and Louisa had taken comfort from each other in the form of physical love. But that love had not been enough to sustain a marriage, and they had known it.
Elizabeth’s heart swelled with emotion. There had been no constraint on Raynor to tell her of this. He had done so out of unselfishness. He had not been able to allow her to think ill of Louisa.
No matter what else Raynor might be, he was loyal and caring to a fault to those whom he had given his heart.
She did not know if Raynor would ever come to completely accept and trust in her that way, but he was no longer resentful of her presence here. That must suffice.
Unable to voice her thoughts aloud, Elizabeth looked to Willow. The child who had been produced by Louisa’s and Raynor’s devotion to each other.
Would that she could have Raynor’s child. That much, at least, would be something. If she could not openly show her care for him, she could love his child.
Driving her fear of speaking her thoughts into the deepest part of her, Elizabeth turned to her husband. “I wish I could someday bear a child. Your child and mine.” She held his gaze, her own blue eyes dark with longing.
For a moment, he did nothing. Then, slowly and inevitably he leaned toward her, pausing when his lips were a mere whisper away.
She could feel his breath, sweet from the wine they had drunk, and a heavy, honeyed languor oozed through her body to pool in her belly. She closed her eyes, feeling the perspiration that beaded on her upper lip. His tongue flicked out to lick it away, and she sighed.
His lips found hers, and she found herself pulled close to the hard wall of his chest. Squirming in Raynor’s arms, she tried to get closer to him, but her cote was tangled under her and she fumbled awkwardly, trying not to break the contact of their mouths.
With a deep chuckle, Raynor lifted her and settled her on his lap.
Elizabeth melted against him, glorying in the strength of his arms around her, his heart beating beneath her hand, as his tongue danced with hers.
Through the haze of longing invoked by his embrace, Elizabeth heard a muffled giggle. She started, drawing back from her husband.
Willow was sitting up, looking at them with amusement and a little surprise. “Papa, you're kissing Elizabeth.”
Slowly, and with obvious regret, he eased Elizabeth off his lap. “Aye, I was, moppet. Does that bother you?”
Jumping up with a cheery laugh, she threw her arms around Elizabeth’s neck to give her a hearty kiss on the cheek. “Oh, nay. I am most glad. Elizabeth is soft, and nice to kiss.”
His eyes met her over Willow’s head. “That she is, dearling. That she is.”
Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth did not know exactly what had happened between them the previous day by the river, but something had changed. Raynor’s gaze had a new warmth that dredged up hopes she was afraid to put a name to.
As Elizabeth paused in the doorway of the great hall, she saw that her husband was already seated at table. It almost seemed he might have been watching for her, because his gaze was trained on the spot where she stood, and a wide smile curved his lips.
Her own mouth quirked upward in response.
Seeing the pleasure in his dark gaze, Elizabeth felt a sense of happiness and genuine hope for their future together growing inside her.
Surely now things could only improve for them. This very morning she had sent a messenger to inform Nigel Harrington that she would not be meeting him again. Elizabeth did feel some guilt about not telling him in person, but nothing must be allowed to jeopardize the very new emotions between her and her husband. What they were experiencing was as fresh and fragile as a drop of dew on a rose petal and Elizabeth felt she must go very carefully, so as not to disturb it.
But Elizabeth was not the only one to take note of Raynor’s eagerness. The trestle tables were filled, the occupants of the keep breaking their fast in preparation for the day’s labors. Many elbows were pressed to fellow diners' sides while she made her way toward her grinning husband.
A newfound shyness made her avoid Raynor’s gaze as she settled herself next to him at table. But she felt his attention on her like a cloak, and she could not keep herself from glancing up at him.
He smiled softly. “Good morn, wife.” There was a note of possession in the word wife.
Elizabeth looked down at her clasped hands. Though she tried not to, Elizabeth still felt the weight of all those pairs of watching eyes.
She answered her husband quietly. “Good morrow, Raynor.” His name felt strangely intimate on her tongue. Rarely had she called him by it, except in the heat of passion. A faint blush stole over her ivory cheeks.
Raynor’s smile widened, as if he knew her thoughts.
Looking to where Bronic sat, in his accustomed place beside Raynor, Elizabeth saw that his face showed both amusement and speculation. Clearly he was interested at seeing the couple getting along so well, especially after what Raynor had accused them of only days ago.
If Raynor was aware of his brother’s scrutiny, he gave no indication that it bothered him. He continued to gaze on Elizabeth with unconcealed pleasure.
When the tray of cooked venison was brought in, Raynor carefully chose the tenderest portions and placed them before Elizabeth. This he had done before, but now, unlike the other times, he allowed his hand to brush hers, where it lay on the table. Elizabeth felt an unexpected flush of heat through her body, and nearly gasped aloud. It never ceased to amaze her that Raynor could awaken her so with just a touch. From beneath the veil of her black lashes, she glanced toward him, and found her husband watching her with tender fascination, as if he were hungry for the sight of her.
“Is there aught else you desire, Elizabeth?” he asked, his tone low, as he poured out her drink himself. This new solicitude from Raynor was welcome, but disconcerting at the same time.
Hesitantly Elizabeth shook her head. “Nay, my lord, you have been most considerate.” She felt more unsure of herself and her position than at any time in her life.
“I trust you slept well?” he asked, as if sensing her confusion.
Elizabeth smiled hesitantly. It almost seemed he was trying to put her at her ease, and for that Elizabeth was grateful. But she also knew a sense of impatience. Why must they try to come to know each other before so many curious stares? She knew the castlefolk wished them well, but that did nothing to ease the strain of being the object of so much attention, howe
ver well-meaning.
And despite Raynor’s obvious approval of her at this moment, she felt unsure. There lurked in Elizabeth memories of other times when she had allowed her husband to see how much she wanted him. Those times he had reacted by pushing her away.
Would he do so again?
Elizabeth could not bear the notion of that happening with the whole keep looking on. As she looked up into her husband’s handsome face, which grew dearer to her daily, Elizabeth’s mind began to form an idea.
She only hoped that Raynor would understand it as a chance for a new beginning for them.
* * *
That eve, when Raynor returned to the keep, there was a message awaiting him in his chamber.
Elizabeth requested him to sup in her solar.
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