by Starla Kaye
“So young,” Gloriana whispered, her eyes misting.
“It made a man of him before he was truly old enough to go to war.” Rowan couldn’t tell her of the memories Thomas had shared with him of killing his first man when he was but six and ten. He couldn’t tell her about the many other men he’d killed before becoming a knight at nine and ten. Deaths that still haunted Thomas many nights. “He has known only warring for most of his life.”
She was quiet a minute, absorbing what he’d told her. Then she worried her lower lip before asking, “What of his first wife? Sarah? He said it was an arranged marriage.” She fidgeted with the mug in her hands. “He said he didn’t love her, or she him.”
Rowan knew Thomas had already told her some about that earlier marriage. He’d probably told her some of his reasons why he didn’t want to get her with child, but he decided to explain a bit more. “Thomas was betrothed to her at birth, as is common in some families. She was actually slightly older than him. And, no, there was no love between them.” He took a second before continuing. “Thomas has felt guilty all these years since her death. He believes he should have stopped going off to battle when he learned of her being with child. She did not wish it.”
Gloriana took another sip of mead, looking thoughtful. Rowan was almost certain that if she had been Thomas’s first wife and was pregnant, Thomas would have stayed with her. He would not have wanted to be away from her during a time that could be difficult for a woman. With Sarah, he hadn’t felt so possessive. He had let her convince him that he was needed more elsewhere. A decision he regretted to this day. He believed he’d failed her. “He claims they even argued about the matter. In the end he felt it best if he left for a while.” He saw the concern for Thomas deepen in her expressive eyes. He wondered what else to tell her; what not to tell her. Rowan didn’t tell her that Thomas believed Sarah might have had a lover, but not until after he’d gotten her pregnant. Rowan thought maybe she’d hoped Thomas would die off in some battle so she could marry this other man. Rowan’s anger at this unfaithful wife had him locking gazes with Gloriana. He ground out, “Thomas could have done nothing to keep her from dying giving birth to James.”
Gloriana’s eyes widened at the bitterness in his tone. “I’m sure tis true,” she said, sitting back in her chair, looking uneasy at his flash of temper. He regretted having spoken so harshly. He sucked in a breath to calm down and gave her a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Glori. My feelings run strong toward Thomas, in defense of him.”
She reached over to pat his hand. “I understand.”
He relaxed even more at her gentle forgiving. “Thomas knows he couldn’t have prevented her death. The knowledge of that is one thing, accepting it another.” He hesitated and left the subject of Sarah. “Thomas loves his son, though he has never known how to show him.”
Rowan looked away for a second, feeling the frustration of listening to Thomas many times as he discussed the matter. He didn’t know how to help his friend, but he knew it was long past time that Thomas dealt with James.
“Each time they have seen each other over the years, Thomas hasn’t been able to get past his formidable wish to control all things. Telling James that he is his father and that is all that matters has not been the best way to reach his son.” Rowan glanced at Gloriana and caught her studying him.
“Thomas is good at being ‘formidable.’” She gave a smile that hinted at warmth, even love. “He is a great leader of men, respected, as I’ve seen. But demanding, expecting, respect of a young boy… He needs help with James. And I will give it.”
Rowan was struck by the determination that sparked in her eyes, the vehemence in her voice. Thomas was a very lucky man. “As will I, Glori. I will give whatever help I can.”
“You are a good and loyal friend.” Now her smile warmed for him and it touched him deeply. “Now you. I wish to know more about you.”
Again, he looked at the fire and weighed in his mind just what to share with her. He decided a quick, blunt summary would be best. He gripped the mug in his hand tighter, and his stomach knotted from years of resentment. “I am the bastard son of the Duke of Remington. His oldest son. He acknowledged me at birth, but refused to marry my mother. He refused to have us even live with him.”
He heard her small gasp, knew she’d have tears in her eyes for him. Her heart was far too soft. He couldn’t bear to look at her right now.
“My mother, a tavern wench, and I lived above the tavern until she died of a fever when I was five.” He ground his teeth and fought back the terrible loss he’d felt then, the horrid loneliness, the helplessness. “The Duke had married the daughter of another English duke by then. When the tavern owner took me to the Duke’s home the night she died, he barely even looked at me. His wife wouldn’t allow me in their home.
She couldn’t stand the sight of me. So I left.” “You left? But you were only five?” She sounded horrified.
Rowan hazarded a glance at Gloriana before looking away once more. Her eyes had smoldered with fury at this heartless duke, on Rowan’s behalf. He couldn’t remember anyone –other than Thomas—ever showing such passion toward anything that had happened to him. It took a couple of seconds for him to absorb the feeling of being cared for, of having someone being unconditionally on his side.
His voice was huskier than he would have liked when he continued with his story. “I found a group of minstrels leaving the village that night. They took me with them. Soon after, I began traveling with one group of soldiers or another.”
He vowed that she would never learn of the horrors he’d survived. Even now, he fought to keep the images from finding a way into his mind. Too many hurts. Too many abuses. Until he’d become bigger, more muscled, harder than most of the other men. He’d grown skilled with a knife, better with a sword. By the time Edward had first called him to battle for the crown, few men would even consider challenging him. He was loyal to whomever he fought for, but he had never desired to stay with one lord and sign a knight’s allegiance to him. Until Thomas.
“What you suffered… what you must have gone through…” He heard the catch in her voice. Again, it touched him more than he’d thought possible.
He blew out a ragged breath. “Tis all in the past, sweet Glori. I do not dwell on it. The Duke…”
He faced her and when she flinched, he wished he’d been able to control his expression better. “Is dead to me.”
“But—”
Fortunately, at that moment Thomas walked toward them. He must have seen Rowan’s angry expression too, for he asked with caution, “Are you all right?” He glanced at Gloriana in chastisement. “Has my wife said something to upset you?” Gloriana looked at him in annoyance. But Rowan spoke first, shaking his head in disgust at himself. “Nay. She has been kindly trying to learn more about me. Twas not her fault the subject was a foul one.”
Thomas nodded in understanding and sympathy shone in his eyes. “Did you tell Glori that I offered you to hold Montrose for me? That Edward offered you your choice of several other holdings?”
Rowan frowned. The change of subject from his past was good, but he didn’t like talking about having a castle of his own.
“Nay! You are not considering any of that, are you?” Gloriana looked fierce as she faced him. And then glared at Thomas. “Do you really want that? Want our Rowan to live somewhere else? I thought you said…”
Now Thomas looked angry. “I have never wanted him anywhere but with me. But Rowan has earned the right to a holding of his own.”
She sat back in her chair, but her eyes no longer flashed in outrage. “I misspoke. I am sorry.”
Talking about his troubled past had been painful. But seeing and hearing the strength of what Gloriana and Thomas felt about him soothed his soul once more. She’d said “our Rowan.” This was the closest to a family as he’d ever had. He could not give them up! Not unless it would someday be necessary. And then it would probably kill him.
Rowan swallowed d
own the lump in his throat. “Do not fret, Gloriana, I have no desire to live anywhere but at Middlemound.” He met and held Thomas’s gaze. “All I desire is at Middlemound.”
***
Two mornings later, Gloriana dressed quietly and prepared to leave her still sleeping husband to go down to break her fast. She hesitated at the door and glanced back at him lying there naked and stretched so temptingly across their rumpled bed. Her heart raced; her woman’s place grew moist, hot. But he was worn out this morn. He’d been so passionate the night before, shown her more wondrous acts of lovemaking. He’d feasted on her and, oh my heavens, she really was beginning to like that greatly.
She quietly closed the door and started down the hallway, still thinking about the complex man who was her husband. Respected by so many and with good reason. An anxious father uncertain how to deal with his son. Loved by both Rowan and her. And an amazing lover to her alone, one who drew out her long-buried passionate nature more each time he bedded her.
Her cheeks heated at how daring she’d been late last night. She’d feasted on him as well. Watching Rowan take Thomas’s cock into his mouth had intrigued her. She’d wanted to try it herself ever since then. At first wary that she could take his great rod into her small mouth, Thomas had finally allowed her to try it. She smiled at how awkward she’d felt. It had taken great effort to accommodate him, but she’d done it. Hearing his groan of enjoyment, seeing the strained look of pleasure on his face… She would savor those memories and looked forward to the experience again.
She continued down the stairs and to the great hall. She visited with a few of the early rising soldiers and a couple of the maids who brought her bread and mead. But she was anxious to get back to Thomas. Her woman’s place was still quivering with anticipation. Mayhap he would be roused by now, ready to…
Stop thinking about it! Thomas has more than just meeting your needs to worry about. Still, she had a difficult time thinking about anything else as she climbed the stairs with a chunk of bread and a mug of mead for Thomas. Her foolish mind circled back to how Thomas had then taken her in the way he took Rowan.
Her stomach fluttered at the memory. He’d put her on all fours, which she’d found uncomfortable at first. But he’d lightly stroked her back, caressed her bare buttocks, and gentled her like a nervous mare. She’d been trembling by then and ready for more. Thomas had taken great care to prepare her small hole, much more cautiously than he’d done with Rowan. But then Rowan was experienced at it.
She stilled, remembering how Thomas had held her hips, how he’d slowly inserted his thick shaft into her tender bottom. She’d gasped and frozen in place, uncertain she could actually take him inside her body in that way. He’d mumbled soothing words to her. He’d been careful with each move forward. But finally he’d driven all of his length into her.
She shuddered, almost feeling the fullness once again. She drew in a calming breath. No wonder Rowan’s face scrunched up the way it did when Thomas thrust into him from behind!
Gloriana was so lost in her thoughts that she had missed seeing Rowan coming toward her from the hallway. He stopped just in front of her at the top of the stairs, catching her arm to steady her when she flinched in surprise.
He looked worriedly down at her. “Are you all right?” Gloriana’s face flamed and she couldn’t meet his eyes. Her loose tongue spoke before she could control what she said. “I know how you feel… when…”
“When what?”
She stepped onto the landing, and then glanced backward. “When… you know what I mean.”
Rowan’s brow was furrowed in confusion. She wished she’d never said anything, but now she was determined to finish this. She leaned closer and said in a loud whisper, “Thomas put his… his rod… in my…” She glanced behind her again and then back at his widened eyes. “In my other place. Like he does you.”
“God’s teeth, Gloriana!” Thomas hissed having suddenly walked up behind Rowan. “Tis a private matter!”
Rowan was gaping at her, and then he began laughing.
Thomas scowled.
Gloriana huffed and tossed the bread at her husband, which made Rowan laugh harder.
After a second, he managed to ask, “And did you like it, my sweet Glori? As much as I do?” His eyes sparked with amusement as he looked at Thomas.
She ignored her husband’s heavy sigh of irritation.
“In truth, I found it rather odd at first. Not being covered from behind. No, that was pleasant enough. But having his…” She glanced at Thomas, who was now looking stunned at her boldness. “Having his mighty shaft… pushed into me there. It took some getting used to.”
“Aye, it does.”
Rowan chuckled and walked by them and down the stairs. “I’ll get the men up and about, prepare to leave. While you deal with your saucy wife.” Thomas waited a second and then frowned at her. “Mayhap you should stay here, wife. You are becoming bolder with each day. I am almost afraid what you will say in front of Elizabeth and Abernon.”
“What I will say, husband, is that James is coming home with us to Middlemound. Or else my fierce husband will bring battle to their castle. And I will be right at his side.”
Chapter Eight
Thomas coughed, harder than he’d been doing all morn. It shook his whole body, made his horse dance nervously beneath him. He didn’t have time for being ill, nor did he want to draw attention to his growing weakness. He covered the next cough with his fisted hand, annoyed. It was mid-morn of the third day since they’d left Montrose. The weather had continued to be colder than normal, off-and-on rainy, and the wind blustery at times. They were all more than ready to get to Castle Abernon. And so it was a relief when Thomas at last spotted the dark gray stone of the castle’s walls. He raised a hand to halt his party well back from the fortress. His men needed rest, the warmth of a fire-heated great hall, and food. Gloriana hadn’t said a word all morn, but he knew she could barely sit a saddle now. He could barely sit one himself. Every time he looked at his small wife and saw the darkening circles of exhaustion around her eyes and the way her shoulders slumped in weariness, he felt guilt for putting her through this. He would have left her behind at Middlemound had not
Abernon insisted she and Rowan accompany him here. He would have gone against even that demand and left her at Montrose, but she’d refused to consider it. She fully intended on being at this meeting.
Meeting. More like an argument—heated, probably—about whether or not the almighty Lord Abernon would let Thomas have his own son.
He gripped the reins tightly. Beneath him his destrier shifted uneasily, as if he sensed his rider’s anger. Thomas desperately wanted to get this confrontation over with, yet he was reluctant to send one of his men forward to request permission to enter the castle’s grounds. As he sat staring at the formidable castle, he once again thought about his son. He hadn’t seen James in nearly two years. In truth, he had barely seen him during the boy’s ten years of life. What kind of a father was he?
Father. Graham Lancaster, his father. Damn the man’s soul.
Darkness and anger filled Thomas at the thought of his hardened warlord father. A man who had only gotten his wife with child, twice, because she’d begged him to do so. He’d spent as little time as possible with Thomas, sending him away to foster out at seven, far younger than was common. Yet the man had a weakness, at times, for Elizabeth. Thomas had always been glad for that. But he’d never been able to forgive his father for casting him aside. Even after all these years the pain of rejection ran deep. Is that what his son felt? Elizabeth had told Thomas that she’d always tried to make James feel loved, even telling him that his father loved him enough to let him live with Gavin and her.
He looked toward the formidable castle where his beloved sister lived. He was truly grateful to her—even to Abernon—for giving his son a good home all these years. But he knew it wasn’t the same as having your blood father with you. Not that he knew what that was like, either. Ev
en though he’d been Graham’s heir, he’d turned down the holding to let his sister have it for her dowry. He’d gone on battling, because that was all he’d really known how to do. When he’d gained Montrose and a wife he hadn’t wanted, he, too, had had a child that he didn’t know what to do with. The difference between his father and him was that he’d loved his son. He hadn’t cast James aside, at least not in his opinion. He’d given him a better life than he could have provided. Then. But things had changed. And, God in heaven, he regretted all the years of separation from James.
His thoughts returned to Gloriana, waiting somewhere quietly behind him. He had been blessed with a gentle wife this time, one who would make a great mother. With her help, he hoped to become a decent father… if it wasn’t too late. The main problem with his wife was that she was eight years younger than he and she wanted a babe of her own. He knew she would act the mother to James, but she longed for a child he could give her. He’d been against that, fearing she would die as Sarah had giving birth. As she’d told him, he knew that most women did not die that way. During the ride here, he’d begun wondering if his true fear was in failing again as a father, as he’d done so far with James.
He coughed, shivered beneath his fur-lined cloak. His body was growing sore from coughing so much this morn. His ribs ached, as did all of him from his neck down. And he’d started feeling lightheaded about an hour ago. He’d tried not to let anyone see how poorly he was feeling. He’d kept to himself as much as possible. Nothing would keep him from this meeting!
