“Who goes there?” Brother Leland’s familiar voice called out.
“’Tis Rowena, Brother Leland. May I join you?”
“Please do.”
Brother Leland sat in a chair near the fire, a blanket wrapped around his frail shoulders, his sightless eyes staring in her direction. Though sparse on top and rather shaggy, his hair was snowy white, a dramatic contrast to his stark gray robes.
“You look so pale.” Setting her basket on the table as she passed, she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “I brought more of Cook’s willow tea. Did it bring you any relief before?”
“I’m an old man, my lady. My earthly body has simply worn out. You needn’t fuss over me.”
“I enjoy fussing over you.” She crossed to the table. “You brought me comfort more times than I can count. Now it’s my turn.”
Rummaging through the basket, she found a small bundle and returned to the friar. “Cook made her spice cake, so I stashed some away for you.” She opened his hand and placed the treat in his grasp. “I’ll heat the tea while you partake.”
“I heard about your standoff with the knight.” He began to nibble. “Will you never learn temperance?”
There was no real rebuke in his question, so Rowena didn’t take offense. “I thought Edwin had sent him, and I’ll fight Edwin with my dying breath.”
“And what of this knight? Will you fight him as well?”
Pausing in her task, she glanced at Brother Leland. So often his questions weren’t meant to be answered but to bring order to her thoughts. “Do you know who he is?”
The friar raised the cake to his mouth, hiding much of his face. Rowena turned back to the tea, shaking her head. Of course he knew. Sometimes it seemed that Brother Leland received information from God himself.
“I can’t go with him, yet I don’t know how to avoid it.” She moved a chair near the fire as she went on. “When Fair Fiona appeared on my wedding night, I was ever so grateful. But now—”
“You still believe that a Fairy frightened Gaston away?”
“Do you believe that I, alone, could have held a knight at bay?” Rowena returned.
“Nay,” Brother Leland conceded. “No woman I know of could.”
She rose and swung the kettle away from the fire. “He wasn’t wrong to expect… I would have submitted… I only wanted him to offer some show of compassion.”
“There was no gentleness in Gaston.” He sighed. “He didn’t deserve you—and apparently your Fairy friend agreed.”
Rowena smiled. Brother Leland likely knew more about the Pendragon legend than anyone alive, but she was never certain if he believed in it or merely found it all amusing.
She poured tea into a cup and handed it to him. “Well, my ‘Fairy friend’ has left me with quite a predicament.”
“And you’ve concocted some rash and reckless solution, no doubt.”
“Now when have you known me to be either rash or reckless?”
He choked on his tea. “I know you all too well, my lady. That’s what frightens me.” He held out his hand, and Rowena brought his thin fingers to her cheek. “I officiated at the wedding, child. Gaston even displayed stained bed linens. Anyone here at Pendragon will testify to having seen them.”
“Bed linens can be faked. Everyone knows this.”
He chuckled and turned his face toward the fire. “Aye, but generally they are faked because the bride is not a virgin. Let Brother Samuel write a message to William Marshal explaining the senselessness of Edwin’s petition. I can still manage my signature.”
“I welcome your support,” she said, and gently released his hand.
But she knew a written reference would never be enough. Edwin would demand an examination. There was no help for it. She must take a lover before she arrived at Windsor Castle.
* * * * *
Knowing Edwin of Llangly watched her closely, Titania made each movement slow and titillating. Firelight licked her naked flesh while she lifted the pitcher and poured tepid water into a shallow bowl. After wetting a square of toweling, she raised the cloth to her naked breasts, subtly pivoting on the ball of one foot so Edwin could see her better.
She guided his scrutiny with the cloth, drawing his attention to each curve and hollow. Careful not to obscure his view, she circled her nipples and teased her feminine curls. When she reached one smooth hip, she pivoted again, presenting Edwin with her softly rounded bottom.
“Must you leave at dawn?” She glanced over her shoulder.
He reclined across his huge bed, naked, arms raised, hands locked behind his head. His long legs crossed at the ankle and, much to her disappointment, his shaft remained placid against his thigh. His dark blond hair was tousled from their recent tumble. Male appreciation shone in his wide blue eyes, but no great passion had ignited within his gaze.
“Aye, but the night is not yet over.”
His words pleased her, even if his physical reaction did not. She didn’t want to use magic to compel him unless it was absolutely necessary. Each time she drew energy from the Fairy realm, she risked her husband sensing the withdrawal.
She rinsed the cloth and approached the bed. “Shall I bathe you, milord?”
“With that rag or your wicked little tongue?”
“Whichever would please you more.” She crawled onto the bed, remaining on her knees as his gaze moved over her body—or rather the body she currently occupied. Lissette had fallen from her horse at the most opportune moment. The chit had been meant to die. Titania was simply prolonging the inevitable.
Titania had been monitoring Fiona’s progress from the Shadow realm, but inhabiting a human allowed her to influence the situation without risking discovery. Ever since her conception, Fiona had been a thorn in Titania’s side. She loved Oberon, and he loved her with a passion few understood. Still, many obstacles had complicated their relationship, and Fiona topped the list.
Barren was such an ugly word, yet childless sounded so pathetic. Titania had blithely blamed the lack on Oberon until his mistresses began to conceive. Fiona was his firstborn, his heir unless he named another.
“The rag will do, for now.”
Edwin leaned back, expectation clear in his blue eyes. Knowing she could kill him with a thought made submitting to his arrogance bearable. She washed his chest and torso, teasing him with her gaze as much as the cloth.
“Have you heard back from the regent? Will he recommend the annulment?” She bent closer, fanning his abdomen with her breath.
He grabbed a handful of her long blonde hair, drawing her face away from his flesh. “I must be absolutely certain of the information you’ve given me.”
She let out a childish sigh and flopped back onto the mattress, knowing the sudden motion would set her breasts to bouncing. “I told you only the truth, and I told you all I know.”
“Gaston never touched Rowena?” He’d questioned her many times. Were all humans this annoying?
Displaying her exasperation with another petulant sigh, Titania recited the facts. “Gaston came to me on their wedding night, babbling about golden lights and magic powers. He was convinced Rowena was some sort of witch. The bed linens were faked. Rowena is a virgin.”
“And he didn’t attempt to bed her again?”
She slowly licked her lips and rolled up onto her side, resting her hand on his thigh. “He was afraid to.” She laughed. “The battle-worn Lord of Pendragon Castle was terrified of his wife. If it weren’t for her rich dowry, he’d have tossed her back to you. Besides, he had me to entertain him. Why bother with that frigid shrew?” Because without Rowena, Gaston couldn’t produce an heir. The thought made Titania bristle. The frustration was all too familiar.
“No other man has managed to pry her thighs apart?” Edwin remained focused on the elements of the tale she needed him to understand. A subtle Fairy compulsion ensured his obsession.
“I slept within the walls of Pendragon Castle every night until we learned of Gaston’s de
ath,” Titania said quietly. “No man has gone near Rowena. I’m not sure if it’s fear or distaste that keeps her far from them, but Rowena has no interest in men. Were it not for her temper, she’d make a splendid nun.” Titania laughed. “I, on the other hand, lost my fear of men years ago.” As if to prove her point, she straddled his hips. She leaned forward and brushed his lips with one turgid nipple.
Edwin chuckled, filling his hands with her warm resilient flesh. “You’d better be right. If she’s taken a lover—for even one night—our case is lost.”
* * * * *
Rowena stared at her reflection in the looking glass and felt fear coil within her belly. Ladies didn’t venture out without their heads covered, but her hair hung loosely to her hips. Thora had braided a thin section on each side and pulled it back with a ribbon. A simple woolen bliaud laced up the front and the wide scooped neck bared the upper swells of her breasts. Thora had added a braided leather belt, accenting the distinct indentation of Rowena’s trim waist.
“The orchard is secluded enough. You shouldn’t be interrupted,” Thora said, fussing with Rowena’s hair. “Wear my cloak. Yours is far too fine. My hood is wide and deep. It will conceal your face.”
“I know what needs to be done, Thora.”
A long, strained silence followed. Thora’s obvious worry increased her own. She’d be in danger until this was done. Any number of things could go wrong, but the alternative was unthinkable. Pendragon must be protected.
“Do you remember the story we rehearsed?” Thora asked.
Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she nodded.
“I’ll go with you,” Thora said suddenly. “At least that way—”
“Nay,” Rowena cut her off. “It would be too suspicious. You must tend me in my sickbed.”
With a heavy sigh, Thora nodded. “I wish I knew this man, but Milton assured me his cousin will be gentle.”
“And he has no idea who I am?”
“Of course not. He is visiting Llangly until Michaelmas, and he has never been to Pendragon.”
Rowena turned from the silver looking glass and asked, “How did you explain this to Milton?”
“I told him the same story he told his cousin. A dear friend of mine is being forced into a nunnery and wishes to know a man before she weds with God. He gallantly offered his own services, but I set his thinking to rights.”
Smiling just a little, Rowena could almost picture the scene. “I’ll just bet you did.” She blew out a breath and reached for Thora’s cloak. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”
“You should be able to make it to the orchard and back before nightfall. It’s not safe—”
“You’re clucking like a mother hen, Thora. I know what must be done.” Rowena’s show of spirit was entirely for Thora’s benefit.
Thora draped the long, hooded cloak around her shoulders, and Rowena made her way to the stables. The day had turned out rather blustery, so Rowena pulled the cloak tightly around herself as she entered the stable yard. Thora had requested a palfrey for her use. When the stable boy merely tugged on his forelock and didn’t move to help her mount, Rowena smiled.
Afraid the wind would uncover her head, she didn’t mount until she crossed the final drawbridge. Llangly lay to the east and the orchard was on the outskirts of the village. Rowena mounted and put her heels to the horse’s sides, anxious to have this errand finished.
* * * * *
“How long have you served Lady Rowena?” Dominic asked as the steward led him toward the entrance of the great hall.
“I was born here. My father was steward to Sir Edgar, who was Lord Pendragon before Gaston. Gaston’s mother married Sir Edgar and when my father died Gaston made me steward. I’ve served Lady Rowena since Sir Gaston’s death.”
Dominic nodded, shooting the other man a sidelong glance. He was in his mid-thirties, Dominic supposed. His features were regular, his hair, mustache and beard were all dark, as were his eyes. “How did he die?”
“Who?”
“Gaston,” Dominic clarified. “Your lady’s husband?”
“In the lists. He was knocked from his horse and broke his back.”
He winced. Injury and death were an occupational hazard for a knight. “I noticed the chapel, but I saw no rectory. Is there no cleric in residence?”
“There is a small monastery in the village of Pendragon, but it’s beyond the castle walls and across the river. The old monastery up in the hills is abandoned, but it’s a fascinating building. It was literally carved into the side of the mountain.”
“For what reason?”
“It was the perfect defense. There is only one way in or out. A single man could hold off an entire army from the elevated entrance. While the monastery was in use the monks kept all sorts of treasures hidden inside their mountain.”
“I’d like to see this wonder before I depart,” Dominic said thoughtfully.
“Give the word and I’ll arrange it.”
Dominic chuckled. If only Farrell’s lady would be so accommodating. “You have my thanks for the tour. I believe I’ll check on Lady Rowena’s progress.”
“Her progress?”
“Aye. She had better be preparing to depart on the morrow.”
Farrell didn’t comment. He bid Dominic farewell and went on about his business.
“Dominic!”
Turning around on the stone stairs to the keep, Dominic watched his best friend hurry across the inner bailey. He and Ezra had fostered with William Marshal and served together ever since. Ezra was the fourth son of a minor baron with little chance of inheriting wealth from his father. Their needs had been similar, so Dominic and Ezra set out together to win fortune and fame with their swords.
Dominic had managed to accrue a small fortune, but his most passionate desire still eluded him. A fiefdom. It didn’t have to be large or well developed, but Dominic longed for a holding of his own.
Ezra had found success as well. After saving the life of one of William Marshal’s sons, Ezra had been granted a marcher castle on the border of Wales. Ezra was anxious to complete his service to the regent and claim his new holdings. Dominic understood his friend’s restlessness but envied the reason for Ezra’s unrest.
“Have you seen the mews? She has the most beautiful falcons I’ve ever seen,” Ezra said as he reached Dominic on the stone stairs. His short blond hair was messy, and enthusiasm shone in his bright blue eyes.
“There is much at Pendragon Castle I find impressive. Even Sir William does not live better.”
“Unless he’s at court,” Ezra pointed out.
“Aye, there is always court. Did you do as I asked, or were you so captivated with the falcons you forgot?”
Ezra followed Dominic into the hall before he answered. “The castle is in no danger that I could see. The guards are well armed and practiced. The design of the fortification makes it easy to defend. I cannot tell you why Lady Rowena is so fearful of attack.”
“She mentioned something about loyalty. Did you perceive any rebellion among her men?”
They crossed the hall and stood before the central hearth. Ezra extended his hands toward the fire. “I spoke at length with Ludlow, the captain of the guards. He said the men are more content serving Lady Rowena than they were her husband. From what I gather, Gaston had a passion for war. When his sword was not needed for a battle already begun, he would simply begin one. And if all else failed, he would turn to the tournaments.”
“And the lady? What had Ludlow to say about Lady Rowena?”
“He spoke highly of the lady, praising both her compassion for her villeins and her management. According to Ludlow, the manor has never run more smoothly.”
“It’s odd.” Dominic faced his friend. “But the threat must be real. Lady Rowena doesn’t strike me as the type to be easily intimidated.”
“Ludlow did mention a curse,” Ezra said with a short laugh.
“A curse?”
“Aye, it would appear some Pendra
gon ancestor infuriated the Fairies, and the line has been doomed to die without issue ever since.”
“Then the line would have ended with the first generation.”
“The bloodline did,” Ezra told him. “When the first Lord of Pendragon died without an heir, his widow’s second husband became Lord of Pendragon.”
“There is nothing unusual in that.”
Ezra nodded. “But Ludlow also told me that every generation since has birthed only girls or died without issue altogether.”
“Gaston was not born a Pendragon?”
“I didn’t ask the specifics.” Ezra rolled his shoulders and glanced about the hall. “I might be tempted to take on a Fairy curse for this castle.”
“And face down the Shrew of Pendragon?” Dominic teased, with an easy smile.
“She managed to keep you at bay.”
“Not for long.”
Ezra stared at him for a moment.
“Are you thinking of wooing this woman?”
Dominic laughed. “Even if William rules in her favor, I don’t think Lady Rowena will welcome a wooing, in any form.”
“If you have the backing of William Marshal, will it matter what the lady welcomes?”
“That question is a long way off. One step at a time, my friend, one step at a time.”
Ezra pressed him no further. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow at dawn.”
“And she has agreed to accompany you without incident?”
He sounded skeptical, and Dominic couldn’t blame him. “Aye, but I don’t know how far I can trust her. She may be up to something. I was on my way to check her progress.”
“Is that not her handmaiden?” Ezra nodded beyond Dominic’s left shoulder.
He turned and saw Thora trying to creep past them. “Indeed it is. I’ll speak with you later.”
He hurried toward her.
“Sir Dominic,” she said casually, and continued toward the door.
“Where are you bound?” He caught her sleeve just above the elbow.
Tears of the Dragon Page 4
