He paused for a moment when he saw them but then continued to walk, and she gasped as they came face to face. She recognized him as a Norman by his shaved head and was sure she’d seen him before, in Ellesmere. Who was he and what was he doing here? He gave her a look of pure hatred and she immediately looked away. His eyes terrified her.
When she stepped hastily into Mabelle’s chamber, the other women mistook the cause of her trembling.
“What has that brute done to you, Rhonwen?” Mabelle demanded.
“No, my lady. Rhodri did nothing to harm me. He was kind to me.” She felt her face flush. “But I’ve just had an encounter in the hallway which has scared my wits out of me. There’s a Norman soldier here, one of your husband’s men.”
“It’s Giroux,” Mabelle hissed, clenching her fists. “I now see clearly the malevolent hand behind the Earl’s riding accident, Myfanwy’s murder, the loss of my child, and my own near death after the abortifacient, and now this last betrayal, our kidnapping and probable death at the hands of a Welsh rebel.”
“Who is he? Why has he betrayed you?” Rhonwen asked.
Giselle told Rhonwen the story of how Guillaume de Valtesse had blinded and mutilated Charles de Giroux and endured years of wandering exile with his daughter.
Mabelle slumped onto the edge of her bed. “I didn’t know you knew the whole story, Giselle, but I’m relieved I didn’t have to tell it.”
Rhonwen had listened open-mouthed. “But if you and your father were cast out of your home, was that not revenge enough for the Giroux family?”
Mabelle sighed. “Apparently not. My father died several years ago, and I inherited Alensonne, Belisle and Domfort. I can’t believe his reckless actions long ago have resulted in this threat to my own life, and those of my children and servants. From the grave he reaches out to hurt me and mine.”
Rhonwen grasped Mabelle’s hand. “Forgive me, my Lady,” she cried tearfully, “It’s not just that I saw the soldier. He knows I saw him. He came from the direction of Morwenna’s chamber.”
“We must think,” Mabelle murmured. The three women sat huddled together on Mabelle’s bed, careful not to wake the sleeping children. “What did Rhodri want of you anyway?” she whispered.
The healer blushed. “He’s drawn to me.”
Giselle sneered. “You mean he lusts after you.”
“No. He was kind and gentle. He spoke of—love—of my becoming his wife.” It sounded ludicrous. “He gave me this necklace of amber beads.” It was incomprehensible.
Mabelle looked at Rhonwen and whispered, “And you feel the same for him, don’t you?”
Fearing the censure of her lady for her foolish feelings, Rhonwen could barely murmur, “Yes.”
The countess squeezed the healer’s hand. “Rhonwen, a woman never knows when love might come along and knock her off her feet.”
Rhonwen couldn’t believe she’d heard these words from the Countess of Ellesmere. She looked wide-eyed at Giselle, who for some reason was silently nodding her agreement. “We must hope Rhodri’s love for you will protect us from Giroux,” the maid whispered.
***
Phillippe, burst into Morwenna’s chamber. “They know it was I who betrayed them.”
She looked up at him with a bored expression. “It’s not a good idea to come here during the day, Phillippe.”
He strode towards her. “That’s not important now. The healer saw me.”
Morwenna rose immediately from her chair. “Does she know who you are?”
He ran his hand back and forth over his shaved head. “Perhaps not by name, but I’m sure she recognized me as a Norman. It’s only a matter of time before she and her accursed mistress deduce who I am. The Earl believes I’m in Normandie, and must never find out who betrayed him. My life would be worth nothing.”
“We’ll wait and watch for a good time to kill them, my lover,” she purred as she pressed her body to his and kissed him. “I suddenly like the idea of bedding you in the afternoon.”
***
After that, Phillippe made no effort to avoid being seen by the hostages. He appeared for meals in the hall and scowled at them, his hatred and lust for vengeance plain to see.
Rhodri thought it curious but didn’t reprimand him. He did notice, however, the occasional exchange of heated looks between Giroux and Morwenna. They’d conspired together in England to trap the Countess, and he had serious questions about their relationship now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Rhodri sent for Rhonwen every evening. At first they sat in the chairs talking as before. Sometimes he ran his fingers through her hair, inhaling its fragrance, feeling the texture of it, telling her how beautiful it was. He gazed at her for several minutes at a time. He sensed she had resolved to keep a tight rein on her emotions.
She’s drawn to me but can see no future for us.
As she became more at ease with him, he encouraged her to sit on his lap. The soft pressure of her small body against him was pleasant torture. He loved the feel of her slender form in his arms, and as long as they stayed in the chair, he would be able to control his male urges. His steadfast belief that this woman was his soul mate strengthened him, and he didn’t want to hurt her or drive her away. They talked of many things. Rhonwen told him of her love for healing and the things her mother had taught her. Rhodri shared tales of growing up in the castle at Powwydd.
One night, after she’d sat upon his lap for a sennight, they were laughing over a story he’d told her of a prank he and his brothers had played. Her smile gladdened his heart. He put his fingers on her chin, drew her face to his and kissed her on the lips. The kiss deepened and she responded to him, parting her lips as he coaxed with his tongue. She slid her arms around his neck.
She’s not afraid.
They kissed for a long time, exploring each other’s mouths, necks, throats and ears. Rhodri was intoxicated by the innocence of her responses and her eagerness to please and explore him. He loved the feel of her small hands on his face.
“Rhodri,” she whispered as he nuzzled her ear and bent his head to kiss her again, “What of Morwenna? She’s your betrothed. Surely what we’re doing is wrong?”
He tensed. “I’ll send her back to her father in the spring.”
“But she risked a great deal for you. She murdered my mother, and helped to deliver my mistress to you.”
“Morwenna didn’t do what she did for me, or for Wales. Murdering your mother wasn’t part of my plans.”
Rhonwen relaxed back into his arms. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and asked, “Do you believe she’s still a maid? I didn’t believe her to be one when we shared a chamber at Ellesmere, and I have stronger suspicions now.”
He smirked. “The Norman, you mean?”
She sat up and he could feel her fear. “I saw him coming from her chamber. He knows I saw him. He wishes me dead, and my mistress and her family.”
“Why would he want you dead? There’s no gain for anyone in that.”
“He doesn’t care about gain. It’s revenge he seeks.”
“Revenge for what?”
Rhonwen told him who Mabelle suspected he was, and why he was driven with a thirst for her blood as the daughter of the man who’d blinded and mutilated his father. Rhodri didn’t confirm her suspicions about the man’s name, but resolved to double the watch on the Norman and on his betrothed.
They sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the beating of each other’s heart. He wanted to reassure her. He squeezed her knee and turned her face to his. “I’ve given my sworn oath nothing will happen to any of you. I’ll defend you with my life if necessary.”
Rhonwen ached with the pain of knowing there was no future for her with Rhodri. She still could scarcely believe his interest in her. But when he touched her hair, all she wanted to do was curl her body into him, rest her head on his chest and bask in the warmth and comfort she experienced in his arms. She loved the soft tickle of his silky black ch
est hair against her nose. He never wore his braids when they were together, and she longed for the courage to untie the leather thong that kept his hair bound at his nape.
His first kiss had rocked her to the core. For the first time in her life, she felt like a desirable woman. There was desire in Rhodri’s kisses, and in his eyes, and in the delicate touch of his big calloused hands.
Was it a mistake to trust him? He could have taken her against her will, but he hadn’t. His patient wooing warmed her heart. The bond she’d sensed through forces beyond her understanding was becoming stronger and stronger. She wished each day away, longing for the sun to go down, anticipating his summons.
The parting would be unbearable.
***
Rhodri stood unmoved as Morwenna’s fists beat against his chest.
“I defy you to send me back to my father. I defy you to break our betrothal.”
“I’ll not marry you, Morwenna.”
She sprang away from him and spat in his face. “My father will kill you. You have no right.”
He wiped the spittle from his cheek. “I have every right. A bridegroom expects his bride to come to his bed chaste. What will your father have to say about your rutting with a Norman soldier, a spy at that?”
She seemed taken aback for a moment, and then sneered, “And what of your precious Rhonwen, will she come to your bed chaste? I think not.”
Rhodri grasped her wrists and forced her to her knees. His voice was quietly menacing. “Nothing about Rhonwen should concern you. She is light where you are darkness, joy where you are hatred, innocence where you are corruption. Beware what you say and do while you remain here.”
He released her hands. “Go to your chamber.”
Morwenna went as she was ordered, but she glared at him defiantly, intense hatred in her eyes.
She’ll seek revenge for my turning to Rhonwen.
“She must be watched at all times,” he told Andras. “And the Norman.”
“It will be done, my lord.”
That evening, Rhodri told Rhonwen, as she sat on his broad lap, that he’d banished Morwenna from his life and that the evil woman would be leaving as soon as the weather broke.
“It’s still many sennights away,” she murmured, returning his gentle kisses.
“I’m having both her and the Norman watched.”
Rhonwen imparted this news to the other hostages when she returned to their chamber but didn’t tell them how Rhodri had lovingly caressed her breasts, or how he’d made her nipples harden with the strokes of his calloused hands. She mentioned nothing of the wanton feelings these actions had produced in her, but she did share that Rhodri had again proclaimed his love for her.
Mabelle sensed the healer was deeply in love with the rebel chieftain. She felt sorrow for the hopelessness of the situation, and thought longingly of her husband, whom she’d not seen for months. She was consumed with mixed feelings about Rhodri’s declaration of love for Rhonwen. Her husband Ram had never told her he loved her, though she believed in her heart that he did. But she’d been slow to recognize she loved him. Now was probably too late. If they ever saw each other again, he would never believe she hadn’t been raped while a captive. He would no longer want her, even if she declared her love for him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“The Norman sleeps in Morwenna’s chamber every night, Lord Rhodri,” Andras reported.
“I don’t care, my friend. So long as the two of them stay away from the hostages, they can rut to their heart’s content.”
He wished he could go to Rhonwen’s chamber, but the other hostages were there. Rhonwen would never accept a chamber of her own, when her noble mistress had to sleep with her maid.
“Bring the healer to my chamber.”
Andras nodded and left.
Rhonwen entered a while later. Would his body always react as strongly to her presence? This time he didn’t wait for her to come to him at the chair but strode to her side, lifted her into his arms and returned to the chair. She giggled and put her arms around his neck.
His lovemaking began with gentle kisses and progressed slowly to stroking and then suckling her breasts. He knew she could feel his erection against her bottom, and that she wanted to touch him, but he held her firmly, and slowly caressed the inside of her thigh beneath the woollen tunic. He’d never cared much in the past about a woman’s pleasure, but now he derived great satisfaction out of Rhonwen’s delight in the new found awareness of her body.
“I want to bring you pleasure, Rhonwen. Let me touch you.”
“Your touch brings me more pleasure than I’ve ever known,” she whispered, but he could tell she didn’t know what he intended to do.
Throaty murmurs escaped her as he stroked further and further up her thighs, until his fingers found the tight black curls of her mons. Still suckling her breast, he opened her legs and stroked the swelling bud with his thumb. Her eyes flew open and she almost fell off his lap, but he held her firmly and continued to stroke.
“Hush, my sweet Rhonwen. I won’t hurt you.”
She soon gasped his name, lost in the ecstasy of her first release. For long moments he cradled her, rocking gently, his heart full.
She recovered from her euphoria and became embarrassed when she saw she was sprawled on his lap with her tunic up around her hips, her legs open.
“Nothing we do here is wrong my love. You’re my woman, and I want only to give you pleasure. When you’re mine completely, I’ll show you ways to paradise that will make tonight pale in comparison.”
He felt her body heat at his words. He brought her to release after release that night, slowly sliding his fingers inside her. She cried out with intoxication and surrendered completely to the passion he was patiently teaching her to enjoy.
***
At the Winter Solstice, Rhodri’s people held a ceremony to honour the sun and he explained to Robert and Baudoin this was to encourage the sun to come back someday. Despite the remoteness of the fortress, it was well supplied. It had its own large communal kitchens made of stone which were separate from the wooden structure. There were two huge fireplaces for cooking. Most of the meals were surprisingly good and food was plentiful, but at Yuletide they enjoyed a special banquet, which began with mulled cider, followed by venison and fenberry pie. When Giselle asked where they’d found fenberries, she was told they grew readily in the bogs of Wales.
Both Mabelle and Giselle almost fell off their bench when a roasted boar’s head was carried in. “At least this one isn’t green and yellow,” they exclaimed together.
Giselle reddened. “Everyone is looking at us strangely, wondering what we’re laughing at.”
An oak log was burned for twelve hours using the remnants of the previous year’s log to light it. Rhonwen explained that once it had been burnt the people would keep the remnants for next year, but the ashes would be saved to spread on the fields in the valleys below at the time of planting. This would encourage a good harvest.
The doors had been decorated with holly. The Welsh believed the evergreen with its blood red berries was a sign of fertility, and its spikes would capture evil spirits before they entered.
As the New Year neared, Rhodri was the one to go outside before midnight and be the first to enter the Hall after midnight, because it was good luck for a tall, dark and handsome man, bearing food and fuel, to be the first inside the door.
That first night of the year, after watching Rhodri stride in confidently when the massive door opened to his insistent pounding, Rhonwen also had a dream. She and Rhodri were making love. It was so vivid, she was afraid she’d cried out her passion. She awoke to find she’d touched herself, just as Rhodri had touched her. But she felt no shame. He’d taught her things about her own body she’d never known and unleashed passions she’d been unaware of.
If only it could be.
Only Mabelle heard Rhonwen cry out and recognised the sounds of anguish and longing. She’d lain awake many nights, achi
ng with need for her husband, remembering the touch of his hands on her breasts and the fulfillment of his hard manhood deep within her. Had she cried out in her sleep, as Rhonwen did now?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Robert and Baudoin were growing boys who often became restless with their captivity. With Mabelle’s permission, Rhonwen was teaching them Welsh, and they were proving to be good at it. Mabelle and Giselle learned a few words as they listened to the lessons. They passed the time sewing and weaving with the Welsh women in the camp, or spinning wool with a drop spindle.
Mabelle blamed herself more and more for the kidnapping. She’d been the one who’d insisted on all of them going to Whittington. Ram had been right to be wary. Her carelessness might yet cost them their lives. Her husband would likely never forgive her.
Another worry nagged at her. Perhaps Ram had pursued her captors and been killed or injured in Wales. Perhaps he lay at the bottom of some deep crevice.
The weather was foul most of the time and they were unable to spend much time outdoors. Rhodri and his men seemed impervious to the bitter cold, and spent hours honing their fighting skills in the frigid mountain meadow, keeping in good physical condition. The Norman women were amazed by the cleanliness and grooming of the Welshmen when they came to the hall, despite the fact they spent many hours in physical activity. The hostages were provided with hot water whenever they asked for it.
The young Welsh boys were included in the training and were equipped with small wooden swords, daggers and shields with which to learn the rudiments of self defence and attack. One day, Rhodri asked Mabelle’s permission to include Robert and Baudoin in the boys’ training sessions. He brought with him a sword, dagger and shield for each of them. She noted he had waited until the boys were with her. Their eyes lit up when they caught sight of the miniature wooden weapons.
“Maman,” Robert pleaded, “Please say we can go.”
Conquering Passion Page 22
