Angie Arms - Flames series 04

by The Strongest Flames

  She relished the silence that fell between them. He absently lay stroking her shoulder with his fingertips, a couple glances up into his face showed her his mind was far away. Emma felt the hardness of his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She didn’t want to be there with everyone staring at her, as the King tried to pawn her off on some penniless aristocrat who would do anything to get money, even marry her.

  She knew she was a naïve fool for the warm feeling that crept into her when she thought of Roland, being with him. When her mind wondered to what it would be like when they separated, she felt herself fight the tears. He was a hardened man, who had nothing to offer her. At least if he did have something, he certainly wasn’t offering it to her. Her mind inevitably wondered to that one part of him he was willing to offer, and she felt herself flush. She had nothing to compare it with, but she couldn’t imagine a man who could make her feel all that Roland made her feel when he was touching her. Just thinking of it flushed her with a heated desire that had her raising herself, to kiss Roland.

  He pushed her onto her back and covered her, then proceeded to toy with her. Emma knew it, but he smiled when he did it, when he made her gasp from the loss of his mouth upon hers, as he hovered just out of her reach. When her hands tried to grab onto his neck to force his mouth back to her nipple, his blue eyes looked up at her full of such mischief, she laughed. When he refused to enter her, despite the fact they were ready for each other, and she needed him like she never needed anything else in her life, a wide smile broke across his face. By the time he entered her, she threw her head back, letting her eyes roll back in her head, and let him carry her away, oblivion took over, and all she could feel were their bodies together, the friction, the heat, until she lay blissfully wrapped in his arms again.

  Silence fell between them again, and again his hand took up the mindless stroking of her shoulder, as his eyes told her he was again far away. She wanted to ask him where he went, but she chose not to. Perhaps it was wiser not to know. Again, the steady rise and fall of his chest allowed her mind to stray away, with the thought in the forefront of her mind that they could have conceived a child. She was glad it would be his. She closed her eyes and vowed she would fight for her child, regardless of what any future husband of hers would try to do. Future husband. The tears were streaming from her eyes before she could stop them. She didn’t want a husband, especially after seeing the King’s first choice. She moved her hand beneath her head, because she did not want Roland to know she was crying. It was only a moment before the hand that was mindlessly stroking left her shoulder, and was touching her cheek, feeling the tears that ran down them. He wiped the one side of her face dry, before his hand returned to her shoulder, to stroke again.

  “I haven’t spoken to my children in almost two years.”

  The words were left hanging in the air between them. Emma swallowed. “Why?”

  The silence stretched, as Emma stared down at the rise and fall of the blankets that gathered at his waist. “I’m afraid.”

  “Of them?”

  “I don’t know. It’s silly any way, and I’m sure you don’t care to hear about children I try to stay away from.”

  Emma raised her head and turned it, so she could see Roland, and rested her chin on her hand. “How old are they?”

  “I think Will must be nine now.” He paused and cast a look her way, before she watched him swallow. “Jill would be seven.”

  “Will and Jill, that must make it difficult when you call one.”

  “Lillian said Jill would always know when she was in trouble, and would claim to think she was calling for Will.”

  Emma smiled, “It sounds like little Jill is clever.”

  “She’s like her mother.” Roland licked his lips, and stared upward at the ceiling. “Lillian got my attention, so much so, I knew I had to marry her.”

  “Love at first sight?” she cooed to tease him, and the absurdity of the love-at-first-sight notion.

  “No,” Roland said, looking down at her. “She told me I had to.” His eyes darted back to the ceiling as he chuckled. She felt his hand stop stroking, and he squeezed her with it. “She lived at DeMerle, where I fostered, and she invited me to her house for dinner. I think I was 10. She was so proud she made the entire meal herself, and it was far better than the slop they served us boys. So every Saturday I was at DeMerle she invited me over, and cooked for me and her entire family. I would spend the entire evening at their house, it became my home. Then one day, after I earned my spurs, she invited me over to dinner, but I was the only one that sat down at the table. She served my food, then informed me we were both getting no younger. She declared that ten years was long enough for me to decide if she would make me an adequate wife, and if I did not marry her, she had to stop having me over, so she could find a husband.”

  “Ten years?”

  Roland chuckled, “I wasn’t the brightest when it came to women. I noticed her the first time I laid eyes on her. She was so blond, I never saw hair so pale, and her features were so small, her eyes were turquoise. Not like yours, but so pale they went with the rest of her. So for ten years I sat at her table, eating her food, and wishing she liked me well enough to want to be with me.” She watched the smile that was on his face drop. “She was a fool for inviting me to dinner the first time.”

  “Did she like being a mother?”

  Roland swallowed a time or two. “She loved our children more, than anything in the world.”

  “Did she like being a wife?”

  His lips tightened as he swallowed. She saw the tear that pooled in those magnificent blue eyes, and she wanted to weep over this man’s loss. “She loved me more than I ever deserved.”

  “Then why do you call her a fool. Many of us never get to do what we want in life. She chose you, and you gave her the children she loved. How miserable would she be if she hadn’t chosen you, and she had to marry someone she didn’t love?”

  “But she would still be alive.”

  “I would rather have a moment filled with happiness and love, than a lifetime of never knowing those two things.”

  Roland wrapped her in both his arms, and held her tight. She rolled her head back around, and laid her face back on her hand, knowing he felt her tears despite her effort to hide them. She also knew he cried for his past, while she cried for her future.

  “I think Lillian would hate me now if she saw the kind of person I turned out to be. Especially, knowing I don’t take care of my children.” The silence stretched so long she, thought the steady rhythm of his breathing indicated he fell asleep.

  “Do you love them?”

  “More than I ever thought possible. It’s just hard to look them in the eye, and know I couldn’t protect their mother. I am a knight, trained to fight, that is my only purpose in life, and I could not protect her.”

  Suddenly, the future was of little consequence with Roland speaking to her about the part of his life he never did. “Did you try?” She asked the question softly, as if she could take it back if his answer was anything but no.

  “I was at home when they came to get her. Richard wanted Sir Damien to hunt rebels, to do things he knew he never would, unless the King gave him reason to. So he sent soldiers to the homes of Damien and his commanders, and he took our women.”

  Roland’s hand was stroking her shoulder again, quickly and erratically, as his breathing sped along with the beat of his heart.

  “I was the only one who was home. I tried to hold on to her. It was a pretty day. I was training with some of the village men, teaching them how to defend their homes. That was one of my duties while at residence. Damien gave us a little house, Lillian loved it. She was also a stickler about cleanliness, and after being out sweating and getting filthy, she made me strip out of my clothing on the back stoop. She carried my shirt and weapons in together. I didn’t know the men were there, until they came around the house. They jumped on me, took me to the ground, and two of them went into the
house.”

  “I heard her screaming. I fought, but they wouldn’t fight me, they just kept me on the ground. They dragged her out, and she fought like a mad woman. When one of the men slapped her, I got away. For a minute I had her, but I couldn’t hold on to her, there were too many men pulling us apart.”

  He grew silent, taking notice of the desperate movement of his hand, he stilled it. Roland drew in two steadying breaths, within a moment the hand began again, in the absent minded way. “They put her on a horse and shackled me. It took us three days to reach London. It was three days I was kept away from her, unable to help her. When I arrived in chains, Damien was ready to fight, but they marched the women out. Halvor’s sisters, even the babies. Damien and Cyrille’s sister. The only reason they chose Lillian, is because she was the one not in the group, since we just arrived. Richard said, ‘I want the rebels destroyed, I want their homes laid low, and their bodies hung high. If you fail me in this, I will see it as betrayal, and my response will be to kill everyone you love, beginning with those here. I feel you may not believe me so I fear I must demonstrate.’ Roland’s hand clamped onto her shoulder to the point if felt nearly painful. “We didn’t even have time to get off our horses. Mercadier, one of the King’s mercenaries, was on the ground next to Lillian. When he reached up for her, she pulled back, but he was fast. He yanked her off the horse, and before her body hit the ground, he pulled his dagger and sliced her throat.”

  His hand was taking on the agitated stroking again.

  “He dropped her onto the ground. As if she was nothing. I was on the ground with men on top of me. I don’t remember even getting off my horse. I think there may have been a small fight. I just remember one of the men asked me if I wanted to see him do the same thing to my kids.” Roland’s hand suddenly stopped and he swallowed.

  “So we did what the King told us to do.”

  “I’m sorry Roland.”

  “Me too,” he said, giving her a gentle squeeze.

  Silence followed, until Roland said. “If I did get you with child, will you treat it well?”

  Tears came to her eyes and she nodded. How could she tell him she would love it with all her heart, because it was a part of him?

  Roland felt the steady breathing of Emma as she lay on his chest, and he knew she slept. He didn’t know why he told her about Lillian. He never told anyone what happened that day he let the King take his wife. He relived that nightmare several times a day, whether he was awake, or he looked at the faces of his children. Each time he saw her image in Will’s eyes, and Jill was growing to look more like her mother each time he saw her. He tried. He really had to accept his children again, but he could not accept Lillian was gone. Until now. As he talked about it, he felt the pain he knew would be there, but somehow, he thought it would be so much more real, so intense it would crush him.

  He glanced down at the coppery red hair that danced with the flames from the hearth. Soon he would be going, and she would be left to marry someone else. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He liked talking to her, but more than anything he liked bedding her. Her passion was as hot as her hair appeared to be. He would miss that. He would also miss her sly grin, and the way the corners of her mouth turned down when she was about to turn stubborn.

  Roland thought he would never sire another child. When he took Emma’s virginity, he did not want to risk having a child. As with any woman he ever had, with the exception of Lillian, he took precautions. But when Emma kissed him, he knew why she did it, and he did not have to think long before he knew he was more than willing to father Emma’s child. Perhaps he was afraid Richard would hurt her if he found out she deceived him, but mostly, it was because he wanted to.

  Garrick’s image flashed through his mind. Garrick was a bastard, a lowly born one, but a bastard still. What kind of life was there for his bastard? He would never know it. What a fool he was. He was the strong one, the one who should have been there to tell his children it would be okay. Not turn tail and run like a coward. He never ran from anything in his life.

  He gazed up at the ceiling, and concentrated on Emma, the softness of her hair fanning across his shoulder, tickling his ribs as she lay across him. He noticed how her curves fit perfectly along his side, as she clung to him. He liked that, as if she needed him. He would miss dressing her, picking out fabrics with the thought of her eyes in mind. They in fact did change colors with the most dominate color in her clothing. If the color was light blue, the green was muted, and her eyes looked nearly like any other ordinary blue eyed person. If she wore dark blue, it deepened the blue and the lighter shade of green could be seen, making the blue even more intense. Pale green brought out the turquoise, but muting it, and it brought her eyes dangerously close to reminding him of Lillian’s. But emerald green made the blue and green vivid, her eyes nearly glowed, and with her flaming hair, she was indeed a most beautiful creature. He moved his hand, and felt the chain still holding the emerald around her neck. It was amazing even the small jewel was enough to bring the intenseness to her eye color. Alone, her eyes seemed an equal amount of blue and green, and one had to study on the question, were her eyes blue or were they green?

  Roland sighed. He needed to leave. He would tell Richard tomorrow he had to go, return to England. He couldn’t stay here. Not with Emma. He recognized the dangerous ground he was on. He loved Lillian, so he knew what it felt like to hold someone he loved in his arms. He also knew how it felt to have them pulled from them, and he was not strong enough to survive such a thing again. But he would take with him the feel of her. He memorized the feel of her pressing alongside him. He never put much thought into Lillian, when he held her like this, and now he couldn’t remember what she felt like when he held her, as he was holding Emma.

  Sometime, later in the night, Roland jerked awake, the nightmare so real he felt sweat upon his brow. They came for Emma. He knew it was only another nightmare, because she was still cuddled against him, clinging to him. This time the King took her, and left him behind. He did not know where to find her, and he was frantic. He would be letting her go soon. For a brief moment, panic began to rise.

  He shifted, turning until he was kissing her, and she awoke and welcomed his touch. He reveled in the softness of her body, memorized the feel of her. So he wouldn’t forget.

  Chapter 13

  Grace spun around, the vine she tied to her wrist danced behind her, twirling around her feet. As she spun harder, she arched the vines, and they danced in the air in time with the music. She loved the role of the enchanted forest maiden. The dance she could just close her eyes and move to. She spent hours with the musicians perfecting it, and it was always one of the audience’s favorites. This time was no different, as they applauded her more difficult moves. This was her favorite, her alone, every eye on her, she even had the eye of the King, and he applauded her.

  Catching the eye of Warner however, was devastating. She knew the instant she laid eyes on him, he was dangerous.

  When the King gave her what the troupe needed most for just one night with Warner, she could not pass up the offer. It was terrifying, but necessary to provide a roof over their leader’s head. The old man was growing frail, and everyone feared he would die if they could not afford to find him a warm place to rest for an extended period. So she faced her fear, and returned the next day to give the troupe her money, and bid them farewell.

  Grace discovered, while talking with Warner, the terror she felt facing a night with him, was nothing compared to what she was yet to face. She had no intention of going with the man, until he mentioned Damien and Cyrille LeForte. Grace grew up with the two boys when they fostered with Lord DeMerle, and she fell in love with Cyrille the first time she ever laid eyes on him. It’s not that she would ever have a chance of the future knight loving her, the third daughter of the village blacksmith, she had nothing to offer, but in her naïve child mind she was unaware. She apparently still had a great deal of that naivety in her, since she readily agre
ed to accompany Warner in the hopes he would take her back to Cyrille. Plus, she felt she should do what she could to warn his brother what Warner intended.

  Warner was a gentleman so far, but she lived in terror that he would stop being so. He asked the three musicians to accompany the two of them, and play for Grace. The new troupe, comprising only of the musicians and Grace, was not nearly as big of a success as the larger troupe, but Warner did not seem to mind. He told her often he liked to watch her dance, and he liked to watch other people watch her dance. He only asked her to dance the once just for him, but he still frightened her. He, however, made a steady trek toward the LeForte brothers, so she saw herself having no choice but to continue with him. Until he left her here this morning, with the arrangement to perform the next two nights for the keep’s lord and lady, and he would return by the third night for her. She learned they were a day’s ride from Kinsey, the Bastard’s keep near the village of Fenton. But Scotts Manor was farther still. She did not think Warner would have time to get to Damien and back within the three day period.

  Her eyes scanned the crowd, and she realized the plays no longer held the rapture for her as they did when she had the entire group. None of the faces sent a thrill up her spine as they watched her, until she neared the shadows on the far end of the hall. He stood alone, far back in the corner, the shadows so deep she had to make two more turns about the room before she got enough of a look at him.

  He was tall, his chest broad, but it was the hood that peeked her interest. What would be wrong with a man he had to hide behind a hood? Cyrille? Was Warner’s story true?

  She tried to catch his eye, because only the one showed through the hole in the fabric. But it was too dark for her to see if he watched her. She couldn’t help the small smile that creased her lips as she twirled again, and she saw the hood move slightly in her direction. He watched. Her heart nearly burst with two thoughts. The first was if it was Cyrille he must be horribly scarred, and the pain it caused made her want to cry for him. The other thought was, he was watching her, and she poured her heart into the dance. After another turn about the hall she moved back toward the corner, and disappointment made her miss a step. The man was gone.