The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past Book 4)

by Irina Shapiro

  “Isn’t that the basic definition of history?” Gabe asked.

  “No, it’s the basic definition of military history. That’s why I prefer to focus on the women. They were the true backbone of civilization, and the ones who picked up the pieces when it all went tragically wrong.”

  “Spoken like a true feminist,” Gabe replied with a chuckle. “And I love you for it.” He planted a kiss on Quinn’s nose, and then his lips moved downward, capturing her mouth in a tender kiss. She returned his kiss with unabashed ardor and slid lower on the bed, pulling Gabe down with her.

  “Ooh,” she said, her hand going to her belly.

  “What is it?”

  “The heir apparent is protesting this unexpected turn of events,” Quinn explained as her belly vibrated from another kick. She reached for Gabe. “He’s just going to have to deal with it.”

  “Strict mums are so sexy,” Gabe growled as he began to unbutton her top, the baby momentarily forgotten despite its displeasure. Quinn might be more distracted and occasionally forgetful, but the pregnancy was wreaking havoc on her hormones, kicking her libido into overdrive. She’d been like a tuning fork the past few weeks, vibrating with desire, which he was only too happy to satisfy in whatever way she liked.

  Chapter 60

  Christmas Day 1464

  Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland

  The celebration at Stanwyck Hall exceeded expectations. The earl had much to celebrate and wished to share his joy with his retainers. He’d become a grandfather just two weeks before Christmas and decided to use the annual feast as an opportunity to introduce the world to his grandson, Edward, named after the Yorkist king. The earl’s son, Robert Ambrose, glowed with pride when he brought the baby to the great hall. The child looked contented enough, swaddled in blankets and furs to keep him warm, but the boy’s mother hovered behind her husband, looking fretful as though she feared the child would catch a chill in the drafty hall.

  Watching from her table, Kate could understand the mother’s anxiety. Babies were so fragile, especially during the winter months. Any sniffle could turn into an ague and carry the child off within days. The mother was hardly more than a child herself, fifteen if she was a day. She had barely recovered from the birth, but the pride in her eyes when she smiled at her son was unmistakable and Kate felt a pang of envy, which quickly turned to shame as Hugh chose that moment to comment.

  “Wed nine months, and a boy already in the cradle,” Hugh growled under his breath. “A wedding night babe is a blessing on the family.”

  Guy turned to Hugh, a small smile playing about his lips. “Speaks of the prowess of the father, I should think,” he said. “The Ambroses are a virile lot.”

  “That they are,” Hugh agreed, probably too drunk to perceive the slight to his manhood. “It’s now up to you, Guy.”

  “What is up to me?”

  “You must marry and have sons, or our line will die out should Adam not live long enough to sire an heir.”

  Eleanor blanched at Hugh’s words, her eyes growing round. Hugh had given voice to her worst fear, and possibly his own greatest hope.

  “Adam will grow into a fine man and have many sons,” Guy reassured Eleanor. “Don’t listen to Hugh; he’s too deep in his cups to talk sense.”

  Eleanor nodded, but her eyes darted around the hall, as though searching for Adam, who’d been seated at the end of the long trestle table on the opposite side of the hall with other children his age. Adam’s seat was unoccupied, as were several others at that end. The boys were at the front of the hall, watching the jugglers, who’d begun their performance after the earl’s grandson was taken back to his bedchamber. There were several girls as well, but they seemed more interested in the boys than the entertainment. Some of the girls were betrothed as early as eight years old, and the boys who were cheering on the jugglers and applauding the mummers might well have been their future lords.

  “I do hope they finish soon,” Guy said as he watched the jugglers. “I’ve a mind to dance, and I hope you ladies will partner me.” Guy smiled at Kate and Eleanor. They had enjoyed the food, which was plentiful and exquisitely prepared, but what really made the feast special for Kate and Eleanor was the entertainment. The earl’s minstrels had taken turns, singing romantic ballads about chivalrous knights and reciting poems of bravery in battle. They were positioned next to the earl’s table, occasionally taking requests from him and his lady and keeping to tunes that didn’t result in indigestion for their lord. Once the meal ended, they would collect their instruments and move into the adjacent chamber, where there would be dancing into the small hours of the morning.

  “Of course, Guy,” Eleanor replied politely. She didn’t look in the mood to dance, but she’d never openly admit to being unhappy in public.

  “And you, Kate?”

  “If my husband has no objection,” Kate replied demurely.

  “It’s all right with me,” Hugh said, reaching for the pitcher of mead. “I’ve no love of dancing.” Nor love of your wife, Kate thought bitterly.

  “It’s settled, then. First Eleanor, then Kate,” Guy observed with more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary.

  If he wanted to cheer them up, Kate thought it would take more than a dance or two to lift the pall Hugh had cast on their spirits—but she was wrong.

  She hadn’t danced in ages, and once the music began in earnest, she could barely keep her feet from tapping in time to the merry tunes. She waited patiently while Guy danced with Eleanor, then allowed him to escort her to the dance floor.

  There were at least a dozen couples, all flushed from the warmth of the fire and the effects of the wine. Hugh was nowhere to be seen, which added to Kate’s enjoyment of the dance. She danced with joy, remembering the steps without any difficulty. Guy was easy to dance with, and his fingers were warm and gentle as he held her hand, turning her this way and that as the current of the music flowed over them. Kate laughed when Guy made a face at her after he’d been nearly knocked off his feet by a portly man who was too unsteady on his feet to be dancing.

  “Your laugh is like the tinkle of carillons,” Guy said, referring to the hand bells one of the minstrels was playing. “I can’t recall the last time I heard you laugh,” he added, his eyes growing more serious.

  “Neither can I,” Kate confessed. She was enjoying herself and the laughter had come naturally, taking her by surprise. It died on her lips when she spotted Hugh and Eleanor down the line of dancers.

  Hugh hadn’t danced with Kate since the first time they’d been invited to Stanwyck Hall for the Christmas Feast, but he was now partnering Eleanor, looking for all the world like he was enjoying the dancing. His gaze was firmly fixed on Eleanor, who seemed to have recovered from his earlier bout of cruelty and was smiling up at him. Hugh’s grin transformed his face and reminded Kate that she’d thought him handsome once.

  It would have been unseemly for her to keep dancing with Guy, so she accepted invitations from the Earl of Stanwyck and his sons, as well as several other knights in the earl’s service. Guy partnered the duchess and then danced with Amelia Ambrose and several other ladies Kate didn’t know. She tried to focus on her partners, but her gaze frequently strayed to Guy, who seemed to be enjoying himself. Before his spell at court, Guy would have danced with Kate and Eleanor and sat the rest of the dancing out, reluctant to dance with ladies who were unknown to him, but today he seemed remarkably at ease and conversed with his partners easily as he led them around the floor.

  Kate plastered a smile on her face as Hugh took her by the arm to claim a dance. “I thought you had no wish to dance,” she said.

  “I changed my mind,” Hugh replied lightly. He was leading Kate, but his gaze remained on Eleanor, who was two couples ahead of them, dancing with the earl. “She’s still beautiful,” Hugh said softly.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Will would have been proud of her. And his son.”

  Kate wasn’t sure what had brought on Hugh’s
attack of sentimentality, but chose not to ask. She supposed he missed his brother, and having Guy back reminded him of other Christmases and other feasts.

  “I was about Adam’s age the first time I was permitted to attend the Christmas celebrations. I was enchanted. I watched Will dancing with Eleanor and thought they made a handsome couple. I envied him because I knew my father would arrange their betrothal shortly and Will’s future would be taken care of.”

  “Do you wish your father had had a chance to arrange a marriage for you before he died?” Kate asked. Will had arranged a marriage for Hugh with Eleanor’s sister, Kate recalled, but that had been years later, and the marriage had never actually taken place. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who wished things had been different.

  “No, Kate. I wish my father had sired me first. My life would have been very different had I been the eldest.”

  “We don’t get to choose the order in which we’re born. That’s God’s will.”

  “I’ve grown tired of contending with God’s will,” Hugh said softly, so no one would overhear such heresy spewing from his lips. “I wish to make my own choices.”

  “Whatever do you mean, Hugh?”

  He laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Never mind. I’ve grown maudlin with drink and lack of sleep. I think it’s time we made our way back. The party is starting to break up.”

  Hugh was right. The number of dancers had dwindled to only a few couples and the earl and his duchess had retired for the night. Sleeping forms draped some of the benches, and the servers looked run off their feet as they began to clear away the flagons of wine and pitchers of mead. Many guests would remain at the castle and enjoy the earl’s hospitality, but the de Rosels lived close enough that they had no need to impose on the earl’s kindness. Hugh signaled to Guy, who bowed to his partner and joined them by the door.

  “We’re off home,” Hugh announced. “Fetch our cloaks.”

  Guy didn’t seem to mind being ordered about. He strode from the chamber and returned a short time later with their cloaks, which had been left in one of the anterooms intended for that purpose. Hugh draped Kate’s cloak about her shoulders while Guy helped Eleanor, whose attention was fixed on Adam. The boy looked dead on his feet, but his cheeks were flushed with excitement and his lips frozen in a smile.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” Eleanor asked as she ruffled Adam’s dark hair.

  “Oh, yes, Mother. It was marvelous. I liked the mummers best. I can hardly wait to come to live at the castle.”

  “If you think life at the castle will be all feasts and entertainments, you should think again,” Hugh said, bursting Adam’s bubble of happiness.

  “Won’t it?” Adam whined.

  “No, my boy. It will be hard work. You’ll be training, learning, and making yourself useful to your lord.”

  Adam hung his head in disappointment. “Still better than being at home,” he muttered, earning himself an angry look from Hugh and a wistful glance from his mother.

  Chapter 61

  It wasn’t a long ride back to the keep, but it was a merry one. Hugh, having drunk way more than his fair share, began to sing, and Adam and Guy joined in, making the night come alive with the sound of their voices. Hugh and Guy had nice baritone voices, but it was Adam’s pure, childish voice that brought tears to Kate’s eyes. How she wished she had a son to love and cherish. Adam was so sweet, so kind. In a few years he would transition into manhood and lose the naïve trust he had in all those around him, but tonight, he was still a boy who’d enjoyed his first grown-up evening.

  “Well, I’m for my bed,” Eleanor announced as soon as they returned to the castle. “Adam, time to say goodnight.”

  Adam didn’t need telling twice. He wasn’t accustomed to staying up so late or partaking in as much wine as he’d enjoyed this night.

  Hugh looked the worse for wear as well. The drink had finally caught up with him, despite the sobering effects of the December night, and he staggered off after mumbling something about having to attend the St. Stephen’s Day service at church tomorrow, leaving Kate and Guy alone.

  Kate was about to say goodnight when Guy bowed his head and pressed his fingers to his temples as he leaned against the wall for support. “Splitting headache,” he explained. “Too much mead.”

  “I have some lavender oil that might help. I can rub it into your temples. Shall I get it?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble,” Guy replied.

  Kate retreated to her bedchamber to fetch the oil. Hugh was sprawled on the great bed, his snores echoing off the stone walls of the room and his chest quaking with every rumble. He was a deep sleeper, as a rule, but he’d consumed enough mead to fell an ox, and would probably sleep well into the next day before waking with a sore head. He’d be as enraged as a bear at a baiting, especially once he recalled that St. Stephen’s Day was traditionally associated with the giving of alms and he would have to make a respectable donation to be distributed among the poor of the parish. Hugh didn’t enjoy being charitable, nor did he honor the tradition of allowing the servants a day of leisure on December 26. Since most servants served their masters on Christmas, the lords allowed them a day of rest and an opportunity to spend time with their families the day after, but since Joan, Alf, and Jed had been left to their own devices on Christmas while the family went to Stanwyck Hall, Hugh felt that was reward enough. Only Walter was permitted a few days’ leave to visit his family.

  Kate found the vial of oil and slipped out of the room. The castle was quiet and dark, the flame from her candle the only pinprick of light in the impenetrable darkness of the spiral staircase. Guy was sitting on his bed when she came in. He’d removed his doublet and boots and was wearing only a shirt and breeches. His hair was tousled and his gaze clouded with pain and the effects of alcohol. Kate approached the bed and positioned herself between Guy’s thighs, which were level with her waist. She dabbed a bit of oil on her fingertips and began to massage it into his temples, moving her fingers in slow, steady circles.

  She thought he’d close his eyes, but instead he looked straight at her, his pupils dilated in the dim light of the room. He hadn’t bothered to light any candles, but had started a fire. The hungry flames were already devouring the kindling and caressing the thicker logs as the fire began to take hold, gradually warming the room and making Kate feel pleasantly relaxed. She was usually rigid with tension at bedtime, unsure of what Hugh’s mood would be like when he came to bed, but knowing that he was sound asleep on the floor below eased some of the strain in her neck and shoulders.

  “Any better?” Kate’s voice came out in a whisper, as if she were afraid to be overhead, but she needn’t have bothered. Guy’s bedchamber was the only occupied room on the upper floor, and with the dense silence of the slumbering keep and the howling of the wind outside, it was as if they were the only two people awake in the whole world, safe in their tower.

  “Thank you,” Guy said softly. He reached up and took hold of her wrists, his touch gentle on the sprain she’d suffered a week ago. He lowered her hands, but didn’t release her. Instead he pulled her closer, bringing her face within an inch of his. Their eyes met, his full of longing, hers wide with panic. She knew she should pull away from him, cross to the other side of the room where she’d be safe, or better yet, wish him a good night, and return to her own bedchamber and her husband, but she wasn’t about to do any of those things.

  Perhaps it was the effect of the drink, or the ever-present desperation that gnawed at her insides, but Guy’s nearness made her feel safe and loved. She hadn’t even realized she’d leaned closer to him until his lips captured hers and his arm slid around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Guy’s kiss wasn’t tender or loving; it was demanding, hot, and full of desire. Kate had never been kissed like that, not even in the early days of her marriage when Hugh had still played at being a lover.

  Kate leaned into Guy, allowing herself this moment of abandon. His kiss stripped away all r
eservations and doubts, leaving behind a need so powerful it frightened her. A bud of desire bloomed in her belly, and the throbbing and moistness between her legs caught her by surprise. This was unchartered territory, and she was lost in its magical terrain, desperate to learn its secrets.

  Guy got to his feet and turned her around so her legs pressed against the bed. He pushed her down with a gentle but firm hand, letting her know there was no going back. The attraction between them had been simmering since the night they met, and after four years of frustrated desire it was about to boil over. Guy pushed up Kate’s skirts, exposing her thighs and hips. She’d never willingly opened up to Hugh, but now she spread her legs, offering herself up to Guy like a shameless wanton.

  She expected him to use his fingers as Hugh sometimes did when she wasn’t ready for him, but Guy did something utterly unexpected. He sank to his knees and buried his face between her legs, tasting and exploring her so intimately it made her legs tremble. Her face felt flushed, and desire writhed in her belly and coiled like a snake as something unknown and primal built within her. She grabbed Guy by the hair, forcing him to stop.

  “Now. Please,” she begged. “I can’t take any more.”

  Guy leaned over her. His eyes were hooded with desire and his lips tasted of her as he kissed her hard. He stifled her cry with his mouth as he slid inside her, claiming her with one hard thrust. Her delicate tissue stretched around him as he filled the void inside her, making her feel whole for the first time in her adult life. With Hugh, she always lay still, waiting for him to finish, but now she felt driven to lift her hips to meet Guy’s, desperate to take him in deeper and deeper until he slammed against her womb with every thrust, the exquisite combination of pleasure and pain finally pushing her over the edge. Waves of unspeakable pleasure radiated from her core, pulsing around Guy’s shaft as he reached his own climax.