Finding Peace - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 2)

by Lisa Shea

  Elizabeth flushed with guilt. It was one thing for her to enjoy the sensations of his body against hers, but it was quite another to drive him to survive without any rest. “I am sorry,” she murmured.

  His mouth rose in a half smile. “Tonight we will find a proper inn, and I shall catch up,” he stated. “I can survive a night without rest, not to worry.”

  In a moment they were mounted and riding through the misty dawn. Her breath came out in soft, shimmering clouds of pearl-white, and the mountains rose before her with each passing step.

  A comforting sensation began to wrap itself around her. Home. She was going home. With all its pains and aches and traumas, it still had the power to call to her.

  The day scrolled by in tranquil quiet. They saw few people along the way; the quiet villages they passed were tucked in against the coming winter, the barn doors closed, the shutters sealed tight. Richard was a steady presence by her side, his eyes alert, but Elizabeth could see the fatigue in his shoulders.

  She was glad when the sun began easing toward the horizon and they entered the stables alongside their chosen inn for the evening. Together they tucked the horses into their stalls and pressed open the door to the dining area.

  The room was sparsely populated; only a few tables were occupied with local farmers or passing merchants. A buxom woman in a mustard-colored dress came bustling up to them with a regretful frown. “You are welcome to stew and ale, but I am afraid we are full up for the night,” she apologized. “I might suggest …”

  Richard was shrugging off his cloak and turned to look at her. She started, gazing at his eyes, then back at Elizabeth. “Oh, my pardon,” she corrected herself. “Two of the rooms are reserved for you, I believe. You are Elizabeth and Richard?”

  Richard glanced warily at Elizabeth before responding. “We have rooms reserved?”

  The woman nodded with a relieved smile, running a hand through light brown curls. “Yes indeed, your brother was through here earlier. It is all arranged and paid for. Now, if you will come have a seat?”

  Elizabeth moved at Richard’s side, taking a seat at a round oak table, and in a moment the stew and ale were laid out. Elizabeth watched the woman go, then turned to gaze at Richard.

  “What do you think?” she asked with curiosity. “Could he be up to something?”

  Richard’s eyes were creased with thought. “My brother is always up to something,” he mused. “But it could be that he simply is trying to get back into your good graces before you arrive home. He wants to give you the impression of being the one who cares for you.”

  Elizabeth scoffed, downing a long draw of her ale. “His tossing money at me does not impress me,” she ground out, “especially since the money he is spending is undoubtedly part of the dowry my father gave him.”

  Richard’s eyes dropped to his bowl, and he began taking in bites of stew, not speaking.

  She put her hand over his, and his eyes came up to hold hers. Her voice was warm and sure. “I do not care what my father chooses, or what Corwin chooses,” she stated in a low voice. “I will make my own decision in life about the path I follow.”

  His gaze stayed on her for a long minute, then at last he nodded. “I am just exhausted,” he stated. “It will be good to get some rest, once I see you safely to your room.”

  Her mouth quirked up into a smile. “Well then, let us eat and be on our way there.”

  A few minutes later they were scraping their bowls clean and finishing off the drink. Richard waved for the innkeep, and she was over in a minute. “Ready for sleep already? If you will just follow me.”

  They rose and went after her up two flights of stairs, ending up at a small hallway in the attic, flanked by a pair of doors. “This is our safest floor,” the woman stated with pride. “Just as requested.” She pushed open the door to the left. “And here is your room, miss.”

  The bedroom was cozy and neat. The shutters were closed against the night chill and a mound of quilted blankets waited on the mattress in one corner.

  The woman nodded in satisfaction. “You should be quite comfortable here.” She turned to face Richard. “And your bed, sir, is on the ground floor, as requested, facing the stables so you can keep an eye on the steeds.”

  Elizabeth spun in surprise, her eyes seeking to the room across the hall. “But there is that room there -”

  The innkeep nodded warmly. “I am right there,” she agreed congenially. “Anything you need, any time at night, just knock. I will be keeping an eye out for your every wish.”

  Elizabeth flushed, looking down. Corwin had indeed thought of everything. She glanced up at Richard’s face, and sighed. The man was indeed exhausted. Perhaps this was for the best.

  “Good night,” she offered, and already the loneliness was drawing out the warmth. He had not even left her threshold and she was missing him.

  “Sleep well,” he returned, his eyes gentle. “You will be safe, and I am content.” He pulled the door shut, and she could hear him waiting outside until she moved to slide the bar in place. Then a pair of footsteps was receding down the flights of stairs, fading until a silence settled over the empty night.

  Elizabeth moved to the lone candle on the table. She cupped her hand behind it, then blew it out. She unbuckled her belt, dropping her sword and dagger by the side of bed, then climbed under the covers fully clothed.

  The blankets were warm, and the room all she could hope for, and yet an emptiness pulled at her, echoed in her ears. She missed Richard’s warm body behind her, his sturdy arms wrapped around her in a protective embrace. She drew in deep, long breaths, striving to will herself to release her longing, to settle down to sleep. Yet every part of her was filled with a deep-seated craving, a soul-wrenching desire. Every creak of the aging building caused her heart to leap with the wild thought that he was coming up to join her.

  The night passed at a crawl, her mind unable to rest, her body wanting him with every breath.

  Chapter 19

  Elizabeth knew dawn was finally coming as the slatted shadows on the floor began to resolve with more clearly defined edges. Wearily she pushed the blankets away, drawing on her belt with a sigh, running her hands through her hair before sliding the bar free and heading slowly down the creaking stairs.

  Richard was sitting at a table by the window, staring out into the growing gold of dawn. He turned at her approach, rising with a smile, then his brows creased as he took a step toward her.

  “Did you get a wink of sleep?” he asked, offering a hand to her and bringing her to sit beside him.

  She shook her head with a sigh. “I tried my best,” she grumbled, “but …” She shook her head.

  His gaze softened. “I know,” he murmured. “Only a few more days before we are at your father’s and everything becomes resolved. You are shouldering a lot right now.”

  Elizabeth looked down at his hands, twining her own into them. “It is not my father which occupies my thoughts,” she suggested, and her eyes drew up to hold his.

  His gaze shot to hers, his eyes widened slightly, and it was a long moment before his breath released. His fingers rippled into hers more fully, drawing her in.

  A figure bustled over toward them. “Your bill is fully settled,” offered the woman with warmth. “Would you like anything before you head out? Mead? Some bread?”

  Elizabeth rose, shaking her head. “We must be on our way,” she responded. “I want to get this trip over with as quickly as possible.”

  In a moment she and Richard were saddled and riding through the crisp chill. She stayed close by his side, drinking in his presence, making up for the long night she had been apart from him. She reached out a hand for him, and he smiled as he adjusted his reins and took it, their horses ambling side by side. Despite the grey day’s chill a warmth grew within her, easing into every corner of her being, shimmering in a golden light.

  They broke for lunch and she sat against him. His arm came up around her, sheltering her within its
crook. She was hard pressed to draw apart from him when it was time to get back on the road, and her thigh nearly touched his as they set back in motion down the road.

  The sun was barely easing toward the hills when she began seeking out the next inn, watching for its approach. They entered the outskirts of the village, wended their way past the blacksmith and rough-hewn church, then finally came to a stop within the quiet stables. He helped her slide down from her steed, her injuries throbbing with fresh pain, and she barely protested as he took over the care of her steed. In a few minutes he had finished and was escorting her into the well-lit room.

  All eyes swung to stare at them as they drew to a stop within the door, and she could not put a finger on the emotion they held. It was interest, surely, but coupled with something else. The thin, reedy innkeep glanced at Richard sideways before showing them to a corner in the back recesses of the room, slapping down a pair of bowls and mugs before skittering nervously away.

  Elizabeth was too tired for this. She dropped her eyes, doggedly downing the stew which was fairly overcooked and dry. At her side Richard was eating more slowly, his gaze carefully scanning out over the room, making note of each eye which met his or slid uneasily to the side.

  She downed the rest of her ale, and a waitress bubbled up to the table with a smile. “Well, there, would you like …” her gaze moved to catch Richard’s and she stopped, falling a step back, looking at his eyes. “I mean …” she flustered, glancing between the two.

  Elizabeth surged to her feet, glaring around the room. “I have no idea what Corwin has done now,” she muttered under her breath to Richard, “But I will not stay within these walls tonight.”

  Richard looked as if he agreed wholeheartedly, but his gaze turned to hers in concern. “You are exhausted,” he pointed out.

  She gave a rough shake of her head, reaching into her pouch and tossing down a few coins. “All the more reason to be somewhere safer,” she pointed out.

  He nodded at that, and in a few moments they were working side by side in the stables, remounting their horses, and moving out into the ebony blackness.

  After a few miles, Elizabeth could barely hold her eyes open. Richard stayed close at her side, and as soon as a grassy area opened up on the left he guided them toward it. He laid out his cloak and settled her onto it. He hobbled the horses, then prepared a small fire while she shivered, curled up in a small ball.

  He eased down behind her, drawing his own cloak up over them both, and she sighed, settling into his nooks as if they had always belonged together.

  Her voice was weary. “I am sorry if I keep you up again,” she murmured, drawing his arms in against her.

  “You just rest,” he returned soothingly, and in a moment she had fallen sound asleep.

  *

  Elizabeth blinked her eyes open, looking out at the delicate tracery of hoarfrost which lay over the meadows before her. It was as if an ice-winged fairy had danced across the tops of each strand, laying a delicate weaving of snowflakes there to delight her. Richard’s arm was warm beneath her head, and she gave a gentle pull to his hand, wrapping it more securely around her waist. He moved instinctively, nestling her in closer, moving his lips against her neck for a soft kiss.

  “Good morning,” she murmured.

  His voice was throaty. “Good morning,” he agreed against her ear.

  She rotated within his embrace, turning to look up at him. “Did you at least get a little sleep this night?”

  He nodded with a half smile, his eyes gazing down into hers. “It seems exhaustion does bring some benefits,” he murmured.

  She was caught by his gaze, the gentle melding of fondness and strength and protective concern, and then he was separating himself from her, drawing to his feet, holding a hand down to her. She took it, amazed as always at how easily he lifted her weight, at how his muscles barely flexed as he brought her up to standing. And then he was saddling the horses, gathering their cloaks, and getting them on their way.

  *

  The sun was barely easing its way down when Elizabeth began to rein in at the small village, looking at the small, run-down inn with curiosity. Richard drew alongside her, his eyebrows raising. “I thought we would be moving on another few miles, where the larger inn was located?”

  Elizabeth’s mouth drew up into a smile. “I am sure Corwin thought that as well,” she pointed out. “We may actually be safe here for the night.”

  Richard nodded. “That would be a nice change,” he agreed.

  They pushed their way into the main room, and the heavyset woman barely glanced over at them as she wiped off a table. “Sit anywhere you like, ducks,” she called out, “I imagine you want ale and stew?”

  Elizabeth sighed in relief. “Yes, thank you,” she agreed, weaving through the half-filled room to take a seat by the fire. “At last,” she added, leaning over to speak more softly to Richard. “I just needed to start thinking like him.”

  The corners of his mouth quirked up into a grin. “Just do not do that for too long,” he warned. “It might start to take hold of your soul.”

  She shook her head. “Believe me, that could never happen,” she promised. The food and drink were set down before them, and she clinked her mug against his before taking in a long, grateful drink.

  The night passed uneventfully; a young flaxen-haired man with a well-worn lute took a seat opposite them and sang songs to the room, his tunes telling of love and war, of trial and victory. Elizabeth leant against Richard, his arm came up around her, and she could not imagine a more delightful ending to the day.

  At last, the evening drew to a close and the room began to empty. Richard waved the innkeep over, murmuring quietly in her ear. She was back in a moment, dropping off two iron keys on the table. “Last two rooms on the left,” she indicated with a nod, gathering up their remaining items.

  Elizabeth knew it was necessary, and yet her heart fell as they made their way down the darkened hallway. He unlocked the last door, pressing it open and looking around. The small room had a shuttered window, a mat against the left wall, and a small fireplace to the right. He nodded, then took her hand, drawing her back down the hall.

  She watched with curious interest as he opened his own room. The fireplace was on the left in his room, the bed tucked in the corner aside it. A low table was on the right wall.

  He strode forward, tugging the table under the window, then hauling the bed over to the right wall, laying it up alongside it. Then he was heading back toward her room now, and she was close at his side, intrigued by his actions.

  He moved to her mat, sliding it slightly along the wall, then standing back and gazing at it, satisfied. “There, they are exactly opposite each other,” he stated, turning to look at her.

  Her eyes widened as she realized what he had done. “Only the thin wall separates them,” she murmured. “You will be right there at my side.”

  He ran a hand through her hair, gazing down at her, his voice thickening. “Maybe this way we can both get a solid night’s sleep,” he commented roughly.

  She reached up, pressing her lips gently against his at first, then drawing her arms up against his back. He resisted for a long moment, then groaned, his own arms drawing her hard against him, deepening his kiss until she lost all sense of time. At last he drew back, his breath coming in long draws.

  “You push a man to his very limits,” he growled, drinking her in with his eyes.

  Craving deluged every part of her; she wanted his hands on her shoulders, her arms, on her hips and waist. “I would pull you past every wall between us,” she growled, drawing him in again.

  She could feel the tension stretch within him, the ultimate effort he put in to draw back from her, to hold her at arm’s length. “Elizabeth, please - do not do this,” he pleaded, his voice tight.

  Her heart pounded in her chest; she wanted him with every cell in her body. “Do you care so much what my father thinks?” she ground out in anguish.

 
; He shook his head, utterly baffled. “Your father? That man is the last person on my mind,” he countered, his eyes growing more serious. “It is you I think of, your life that spreads out before you.”

  He took her hands in his, his gaze full on her. “My mother was the sweetest woman I have ever known, but many in our village treated her with scorn and disrespect. It was the little things; the way they said her name, the way they slid their eyes when they walked past her on the path.” His eyes were somber as they held hers. “I would never in a thousand years put you in that position,” he insisted.

  Elizabeth saw the pain in his eyes, and her heart dropped for the childhood he had gone through, the hurt of seeing his mother mistreated.

  “I had not realized,” she murmured.

  His hand traced gently along her cheek. “It is not an easy life, the life of an unmarried woman who is not pure; the life of a child of such a union. I spent half my childhood saving my brother from fights he had become embroiled in. Surely many were his own fault, but many others were brought onto him simply because of the circumstances of his birth.”

  His eyes looked away for a moment. “Children were harsh, but even adults would made snide comments, would treat us as if we were barely worth the mud we stood on. I can understand how it ate at my brother, how he felt the urge to lash out at the continual mistreatment.”

  His eyes drew back to hold hers. “I swore to myself at a young age to never put a child of my own in that position. Any child I bring into this world will come into a loving family, will be adored, respected, and treated with kindness. There will be no question about the legitimacy of their birth.”

  Elizabeth lowered her head, resting it against his chest, wrapping her arms around him tenderly. In a moment he had drawn her in, sighing against her, and she stood there for a long while. It had never occurred to her what he had gone through, that his restraint held so much importance to him.

  Finally she looked up, smiling gently. “I will torment you no longer,” she promised. “We will sleep on each side of this wall, and that will be enough.”