by Lisa Shea
The two men began making polite conversation with Claire. Elizabeth let the words roll beyond her awareness, watching their sidelong glances at her as they inquired about the welfare of the sisters, as they discussed the general gossip of the town. Finally Elizabeth could not take it any more.
“So. What did my father say?” she snapped out.
All eyes turned to her, and a shaft of fury drove through her at the inanities that were being laid out. “Surely you got a message from him,” she continued harshly. “Just tell me what it said.” Her eyes narrowed. Maybe these twits worked better with carrots. “When I hear the news from someone else, they will be the one to receive my full thanks.”
Ron and John tumbled over each other to be the first to share the details.
“He said he reinstated you as his heir,” sputtered one.
“After long and deliberate thought,” chimed in the other.
“But you need to return home soon,” they both finished, nearly in unison.
Elizabeth snorted, taking a long draw of her mead. “Of course I do,” she grumbled. “He wants me back under his thumb as quickly as possible.”
John’s eyes widened in surprise. “But he is your father,” he argued in disbelief. “Surely this is wonderful news, that he is welcoming you back into his fold?”
Elizabeth’s eyes blazed. “As he is the one who nearly broke me while driving me out, I hardly find that welcoming.”
Ron’s eyes creased with confusion. “He was angry!” he called out, as if it explained everything. “People get angry. He has gotten over it, and now he wants you back.”
“As he might want back a prize heifer who had run from his whip,” snapped Elizabeth.
Claire’s voice was warm and rich over the table. “Here comes the apple tart, and what a delicious aroma,” she commented with delight. “Shall we enjoy this before it cools?”
All eyes turned to the approaching servants, and the conversation hushed as the dessert was distributed. Elizabeth fought to hold her tongue. She had already ruined one evening for Claire. She owed it to her to allow this night to finish in peace.
She managed to stay silent during the closing conversation, during the goodbyes, as they headed out to the stables. However, as the trio passed beneath the arches and headed out into the inky night, the last of her reserves unraveled. She barely saw as Claire again moved ahead of her. Her limits had been more than reached; the fasteners on her mouth ripped off due to stresses far beyond their endurance.
“And he reaches out his hands to interfere with me here, after I had finally escaped his grimy grasp?” she ground out, bursting out loud with the running dialogue which had circled her mind for half of the evening. “I had at last found some small haven of quiet, and his corrosive breath has to contaminate me even here?”
Richard looked over, his eyes gentle. “It is only whispers he can send toward you,” he soothed. “You control your own destiny.”
“Hah,” snorted Elizabeth, her fury cascading into ever larger waves. “He contaminates everything he draws into contact with. You saw how your brothers turned into the mirror image of the suitors I had dealt with. Disgust and greed. Disapproval and avarice. How soon until a fresh flood of carrion beetles wash over me here, drowning me in their reproach?”
Richard’s presence was calm at her side. “The world can be full of wolves and blizzards, of plagues and lightning storms,” he mused. “Through it all, we always have control over our choices and actions. Whatever the world throws at us, we have the final say.”
Roiling darkness drew in around her, and she did not answer.
Chapter 10
Elizabeth spun into a high block, the warm morning sun beaming down on her, the freshness of the air thrilling through her lungs. The sturdy ground was solid beneath her feet, the firm wrap of her hilt was steady in her grasp, and there was nothing more she could want out of life. Richard’s sword rang strongly against her own, and she laughed in delight, leaping back a step, reseating herself on the balls of her feet before lunging in toward his calf. She would get him one of these turns. If only she could twist, could just get him to -
There was the clicking of light hooves on the cobblestones, and she drew up in annoyance. If it was those twin twits …
But no, it was a dandy in light sea-green, a high feather in his hat, his pale brown hair arrayed in elaborate curls. The sword at his hip seemed more for decoration than anything else, judging by the lack of wear along its length. His eyes were limpid powder blue. They swept around and took her in. She watched as they retreated in horror, shivered in disapproval, then blossomed slowly into a growing sense of avarice.
She’d had enough. She spun her sword high and stalked toward him, her eyes glowing in fury.
“You want this swordswoman before you?” she challenged him hotly. “If you think you are going to get anywhere near me, you will have to beat me first in my Ring of Death. You get two blows before I start taking my swings at you, and once you have lost half your blood -”
The man blanched, wheeled back, and in a moment he was at a full gallop back out the gates, streaming south toward the coastline.
Fury coursed through her, and she was half disappointed that he had fled. It would have felt so good to pummel him, to show him just how wrong he had been.
Her eyes swiveled toward the gates. It was still early. There could be yet some fresh meat preparing to present itself for her dismembering blows.
Richard was moving past her toward the stables, his stride steady. “I think we should head out on a ride for the morning,” he offered, disappearing into the shadowed depths.
“What? Where?” asked Elizabeth, pulled after him despite herself. He did not say another word. She found herself saddling her roan, drawing on the bit and bridle beside him, following at his side as they headed out the gates and turned south, angling away from the coast.
The sharp tang of salt in the air faded into a gentler aroma of wildflowers, and the hint of something else which Elizabeth found soothing. Her shoulders eased as their horses picked their way over the rise and fall in the ground, moving along the path, as they headed inland and down a series of hollows. Soon they were nestled into a cup-shaped depression, the gentle grassy walls sheltering them from the surrounding world.
Richard dismounted, holding out a hand to her, and in a moment she was at his side. He tucked the pair of reins around a bush, and then lay out a cloak. He sat down on the ground, and she found she was lowering herself to sit at his side, drawing in the rich scents of loam and grasses and fragrant wildflowers.
Time drifted by in silence as they sat side by side, as a ponderous bee moved inquisitively from flower to flower, as a fluffy cloud drifted lazily across the delicate blue sky. At last his voice, gentle and warm, eased into her thoughts.
“I grew up near here,” he murmured, his eyes moving across the fields. “This hollow was a quiet retreat for me, hidden from all else. It gave me a chance to think and be by myself.”
“It is beautiful,” praised Elizabeth. She was soothed by the serenity of the place.
His voice became distant. “It is a shame it is not spring,” he murmured. “When the weather gets warmer, this whole landscape bursts into a sea of columbine, the flowers carpeting as far as the eye can see, their purple flowers creating wave upon wave of fragrance.” His eyes tracked to the east for a moment. “It was my mother’s favorite time of year.”
Elizabeth wondered for a moment what it might have been like to grow up with a parent who adored her, who took her hand and walked out into fields of flowers, drawing in their luscious scent.
The reality of her situation cascaded down on her like a wagon-full of stones releasing its cargo. “My father has more concrete desires,” she snapped. “I cannot stay out here forever. The moment I return to the nunnery, the agony will start again. The parade of men will march by. Each man will stare at me with disgust and disapproval. Each will weigh my worth and find me wanting.”
/>
She ran a hand distractedly through her hair, barely seeing the curls of white clouds drifting across the azure sky. “If only I could escape back in time, to when my brother was still alive,” she moaned. “He would watch over me. I was so happy then.” Despair tendriled into every corner of her being. “Once he was gone, there was no escape. Every single man judged me inadequate. Every single man tallied my faults.”
The voice at her side was low, without pressure. “Every man?”
She turned then, and was caught by those rich, deep eyes. Suddenly it was as if the whirlpool which had swirled before her vision has cleared and she could see what lay before her. Richard’s gaze was resonant with longing and pride, with gentleness and determination. Shock struck her that she had not seen it before, that she had been so blind. Then he drew her in against him, and she went willingly into his arms. He tenderly kissed her, and a wave of insurmountable joy swept through her. Feelings and emotions she had never dreamt of burst into being. She nestled into his arms, simply being held by him, and there was nothing else on earth she could possibly desire.
It was a long while before he raised his head to gaze tenderly down at her. “Oh, Elizabeth,” he groaned hoarsely, gently running a hand along her cheek.
Elizabeth found her eyes going to his lips, flushing at the amazing sensations they had brought forth within her. “Even your kisses do not bring pain,” she found herself whispering in amazement.
His eyes sharpened in unbelieving surprise at that. “How in the world could -”
But she did not care. She twined a hand into his thick hair, he groaned in response, and his mouth was moving down against hers again, drawing out her pleasure.
At last he broke the contact with a ragged breath. “You bewitch me, Elizabeth.” He lay back against the grass, his lungs drawing in long breaths.
She lay against that sturdy chest, his heart sounding strong and steady beneath her, and for the first time in a long, long while, she found peace.
***
The clouds began to tinge with maroon and tangerine, and yet she could not bring herself to rise, to quit this marvelous world she had found to wrap around herself. “I do not want to head back yet,” she found herself saying, nestled in against his broad chest.
His hand was tenderly stroking her hair, and he chuckled low. “I would not recommend we stay out here in the meadow for the night,” he countered evenly. He was quiet for a moment, then he added more softly, “My childhood home is a short distance away. It is exceedingly humble, but if you would like to see it, I could show you where I grew up.”
“Absolutely!” cried Elizabeth in delight, drawing up to her feet. “I would adore seeing where you played as a child.”
Richard came up more slowly, his face shadowed. “It is a small, one room cottage,” he cautioned. “You might find it -”
“I would find it delightful,” interrupted Elizabeth with a smile. “A large keep with a sadistic father is nothing to be proud of. I am sure your home was an Eden for you.”
Richard smiled at that, nodding quietly. “It was indeed.”
He gathered up both horses’ reins, and then took Elizabeth’s right hand in his left. Together they began walking up over the rise toward the east.
Elizabeth shimmered in the warmth of his grasp, the nearness of him, and it was a seductive siren’s call to her as she moved. She brushed against him, drawing his eyes to her, and she caught his gaze with the full desire in her own. His step checked for a moment, and he groaned, forcing himself to look ahead, to keep in motion.
“You are indeed bewitching,” he murmured under his breath. “You make it challenging for a man to behave honorably.”
Elizabeth had a sense that, if any man was up to that challenge, it was Richard.
They crested a rise, and she gasped at the beauty of what lay before them. The tiny smudge of a keep lay in the far distance, but below them, nestled into a hollow, was the most beautiful cottage she had ever seen. A thick rosemary hedge edged it on all four sides, and she breathed in its rich scent, delighting in it, feeling it thrill through every part of her. The roof was well tended and secure, and the shutters were freshly painted and clean. A small stable stood to the far side.
“I will put away the horses,” offered Richard gruffly, drawing himself with reluctance away from her side. He gave a gentle tug to the pair of horses as he moved them along toward the out-building.
Elizabeth moved her way down into the gap in the hedge, running her hands through the fragrant needles of rosemary, releasing their rich scent. Rosemary for remembrance. She breathed in deeply, absorbed in the amazing power of the aroma, tingling as it filled her.
God, she wanted Richard. For once she was safe, her worries were released, and a soul-filling desire and contentment had -
A strong hand latched onto her right wrist, fingers pressing into her flesh, spinning her around. She was being kissed, pushed up against the cottage wall, and she went willingly.
Wiry fingers burned into her forearm, sending searing pain down its length.
Tough lips forced her mouth open, and her lips bruised beneath the fierce onslaught which would not stop.
A muscular arm wrapped tight around her waist, cutting her breathing to desperate gasps.
She fought against him, at first gently, then in a panic. The pain intensified on her wrist, the sense of attack grew stronger, and fear and fury rose in a mixing cyclone within her. She struggled in earnest, and his strong arms pinioned her in place, forced her to accept -
“God’s Blood, let her go or I will kill you where you stand!” snarled Richard, his voice rich with fury.
She was suddenly released. She half stumbled backwards, spinning her head in confusion to look at where the voice had come from.
Richard had his hand on his hilt, staring with focused attention before her. She drew her gaze back around -
Corwin stood there, proud, assured, running his eyes down her length with pleased satisfaction. “I had forgotten how delightful your feistiness was, my dearest,” he smiled to her, his moss-green eyes coming back to meet hers. Then, almost dismissively, his gaze moved back to look at Richard.
“Thank you, dear brother, for bringing my fiancée into my arms again,” he added. “I am sure I can handle her from here.”
Chapter 11
Elizabeth stared in shock at the two men before her. She could see the resemblance now, the sturdy broadness of their shoulders, the leanness of their forms. And yet even traits which seemed the same at first glance were unique. Corwin’s moss-green eyes were cold marbles, taking in the scene with sharp delight. Richard’s were warm, deep, widening with growing understanding.
Richard slowly shook his head. “So you are Corwin?” he asked his brother. “You took our father’s name when you left here?”
Corwin scoffed, his eyes hard. “That man should have given us far more than a name,” he countered. “We were the elder pair! What did we receive besides a token payment, an amount even a faithful servant would have turned up his nose at? A name was the least that man could provide.”
Elizabeth’s world tumbled and whirled in chaos. “Wait … what is your name then?”
Richard held the man with his eyes. “His name is Forwin, and he is my younger brother.”
His brother smiled wryly. “It is Corwin now,” he corrected. “You will find that many things have changed.” He stepped forward to grasp Elizabeth firmly by the arm. She winced against the pressure, his fingers digging deeply into the bruises he had created only a few moments ago.
“Get your hands off me,” she snapped, ripping her arm loose. “You abandoned me six months ago, and now you think you can stroll back into my life?”
Corwin shook his head, tsk tsking her. “You get confused so easily,” he offered in a dismissive voice. “I never left you.”
Outrage bubbled up within her, and her face flushed with fury. “I was lying in the mud in front of five hundred people,” she cut out, he
r voice tight. “You turned your back on me! You left me there to be thrown in the fetid dungeons!”
Corwin shook his head, sighing. “You knew your father would be furious if you lost. That was your own fault, for goading him with your feeble performance,” he pointed out as if she were a toddling infant. “Once that began, his anger had to run its course. I made sure one of us could talk reason to him once he had cooled down. Which I did. You note that he has now decided to reinstate you as heir because -”
“If you had a hand in that, it is only because you want to get your hands on the keep and dowry,” shot back Elizabeth, blood throbbing in her veins. Her hand twitched toward the hilt of her sword. “You let me rot in that hell hole for -”
Corwin made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It was only a few weeks,” he countered. “You are strong; you could have lasted far longer than that. Your father went through his typical blustering and screaming, and then everything would have gone back to normal. You are the one who fouled everything up, as usual, by going and running off -”
“You are damn right I ran off,” interrupted Elizabeth, taking a step forward to glare at him. “There was no way I was going to remain anywhere near that man. And, now that I am free, there is no way I would return.”
Corwin shrugged his shoulders. “So all that your brother held dear, you are simply going to let the bandits invade and destroy? I hardly think your beloved Jeffrey would be proud of that decision.”
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted. A seed of uncertainty lodged in her mind.
Corwin’s eyes narrowed, and his hand shot forward, grabbing a hold of her left wrist, twisting it hard. She bit back a cry as he raised her hand up.
His voice grew harsh. “And where is the ring I gave you?”
A zing of fear thrilled through her body and she pushed it away angrily. He had no right to do this to her, to make any accusations or challenges. She ripped her arm away again, bringing her hands to her neck, removing the chain in one long draw.
