The Shielded Heart

by Sharon Schulze

  Ian closed the door once they had all entered the room. “Should I send for Lily?” he asked of no one in particular.

  Anna shifted in the chair Swen had settled her into. “Aye, milord, if you don’t think she’ll mind. I would appreciate her counsel.”

  Swen, standing behind her chair, reached down and squeezed her shoulder. She looked pale, her amber eyes dark with worry. She glanced up at him and attempted to smile, though he knew ’twas for his benefit.

  Despite Swen’s impatience for this conversation—or perhaps confrontation, he thought, casting an anxious glance at Father Michael’s expression—he found himself wishing that he and Anna had simply thrown caution and duty aside, run away and done whatever they desired without considering the cost to anyone, including themselves.

  But as he watched Anna’s face, saw the concern etched there, he knew that had never been an option for either of them. Despite their dissimilar pasts, their fears and concerns, they both felt their ties and obligations too keenly, had too strong a sense of honor, to selfishly throw aside all caution and live for the moment.

  Though his own sense of duty had been honed by Anna’s example, he thought wryly. Still, he’d learned the lesson well.

  And he would do anything to avoid causing her pain.

  Except give her up completely.

  Ian ushered Lily into the room. “Catrin and Gillian will get the children settled in the nursery,” she said. She crossed to a seat next to Anna’s chair, pausing to buss Lord Rannulf’s cheek and to give Lord Nicholas’ hand a squeeze.

  Ian folded his arms and leaned back against the door. “Father Michael, I believe you mentioned you had news?”

  The abbot shifted in his chair, toying with the ring on his hand, then glanced up and met Anna’s gaze. “First, child, let me tell you how pleased I am to find you safe and well.” He sighed and glanced down at the table for a moment before looking up at her again. “When I sent William the letter detailing the king’s actions, I had no notion that you had a safe haven such as this available to you.” He looked past Anna to Ian. “I thank you, milord, for your generosity in providing such a place.”

  Ian unfolded his arms and straightened. In spite of his relaxed posture, Swen could tell that his lord was far from happy. “Swen’s home is here,” he said, his voice as unyielding as his expression. “Where else should he bring his future bride but to us?”

  The abbot raised his eyebrows. “Indeed. Perhaps you are unaware of Mistress Anna’s situation, milord. ‘Tis entirely possible that she. cannot wed anyone, under her particular circumstances. The bishop decided years ago—”

  “The bishop decided?” Anna rose to her feet and rested her left hand on the table to lean toward the abbot. “He decided I may not have a life of my own, isn’t that the truth of it, Father?”

  “But child, think of your gift! Would you throw away all you have for—” a blush rose to his cheeks “—carnal pleasures?” He, too, stood. “To give up a gift from God in return for some fleeting sin? How could you even consider—”

  “We’ve committed no sin,” Swen growled. He took a step forward, pausing at Anna’s touch upon his arm. “I’ve kept the promise I made to you. And Anna has lived by the rules the Church made for her. I want her as my wife, Father. Where is the sin in that?”

  “I meant no insult,” the abbot said. “But perhaps you don’t understand the value of her gift.”

  Lord Nicholas rested his elbow on the table and leaned toward Father Michael. “I believe we all understand the situation quite clearly, sir. Mistress Anna provides your abbey with prestige, with money and with the king’s grace. ‘Tis clear to me the value of her gift to you—but what does she get from the bargain?”

  “We’ve provided her a home, a place to ply her craft…” His voice faltered at the glare Swen sent his way.

  “She is not a slave,” Lily said. “Why should she permit you to treat her as one any longer?” She rose and came to slip an arm about Anna’s waist, her other hand resting lightly on Anna’s sling. “Here is part of the price Anna has paid for her gift, Father. I’ve done all I can to heal her, but ‘tis in God’s hands, not mine, whether she will ever use her hand again.” She frowned. “If you hadn’t brought her to the king’s attention…”

  Anna sent Lily a grateful look as the other woman released her and went to stand at her husband’s side. “I may have already lost my gift, Father, through no fault of my own. If I cannot use my hand, I cannot translate what I see in my visions. I’d be of no value to the abbey then.” She reached for Swen’s hand and held it tightly. “But I tell you now, Father, that whether my hand heals properly or not, I will toil for the abbey no more. I refuse to believe any longer that ‘tis my duty to give up my life to the Church for my parents’ sins. I owe them my duty, aye, and my love. They have that still, though I’ve not seen them in fifteen years.” She took an angry swipe at the tears on her cheeks. “I will marry Swen Siwardson, Father. If the bishop is wrong and my gift persists after I ‘sin’ with my husband, then I will feel doubly blessed.”

  “And if I do not release Siwardson from his vow?” the abbot asked.

  Anna turned to face Swen, her eyes steady as she met his questioning gaze. “Then I will do whatever I must to tempt him to change his mind.”

  The tide of color Swen felt sweep over his face must have matched the flush that rose to tint Anna’s. But he held her pinned with his gaze, pride in her dedication to him bringing a faint smile to his lips.

  Ian laughed, breaking the spell. “It sounds to me, Father, as though you’d better absolve Siwardson of his vow and permit these two the blessing of the Church, else in no time their sins will be compounded with one more.” He grinned and gathered his wife to his side. “Never doubt the power of a determined woman.”

  The abbot rose to his feet, weariness in his every movement. “Swen Siwardson, I release you from your vow to me.” His heart light with joy, Swen watched as Father Michael rounded the table, stopping in front of him and Anna.

  His eyes kind now, he took Anna’s hand. “I release you from your obligation to the abbey, child. Your life is in your own keeping now.” He placed her hand in Swen’s. “I suggest,” he added dryly, “that you seek the Church’s blessing upon your union soon, milord, for I doubt she’ll leave you in peace otherwise.”

  Swen gave a shout of joy and turned to take Anna carefully into his arms. She clung to him, her injured hand held in the space between them, her cheek pressed to his chest.

  Ian pounded him on the back. “Best wishes to you both,” he said, stepping aside so Lily could add her congratulations.

  After a moment Swen stepped away from Anna, taking her hand in his once more. “Father, would you honor us by blessing our marriage?”

  The abbot nodded. “Whenever you will, milord.”

  Smiling, Lily took Anna by the arm. “Come along then, Anna. We’ve a wedding to plan.”

  Anna allowed Lily to lead her off to her solar, her mind still overwhelmed by the fact that she was free—to go where she wished, to do whatever she wanted—free to marry Swen.

  Lily paused in the hall—much less crowded now—and gave orders to several maidservants. She sent word to the kitchen to make the evening meal a special one, then asked that a bath be prepared in Anna’s chamber.

  “For there’s no sense in waiting any longer, is there?” she asked Anna, grinning. Anna’s cheeks heated once again at the knowing look in Lily’s eyes. “We wouldn’t want you two to fall into sin, after all.” Her expression belied her virtuous tone.

  Anna laughed ruefully and shook her head. “I cannot believe I said such things—and before the abbot, and people I don’t know.”

  “But you meant every word, didn’t you?” Lily asked quietly. Anna nodded. “I would have done the same—done anything to be with the man I love.”

  They continued up the stairs. “Swen knew it, too, I could tell from his eyes,” Anna added. “Though he’s fought me before now, I b
elieve that if the abbot withheld his approval, Swen might have given in. There’s no honor in a vow made under false pretenses, and I think that despite his protestations, Father Michael didn’t agree with the bishop’s stance. He’s a good man—but he’ll have to answer for what he’s done today.” She felt concern cast a shadow over her joy. “I pray he doesn’t suffer for it.”

  Lily gave her a reassuring smile. “He struck me as a man of integrity. As long as he knows he’s done the right thing, he’ll be fine.”

  Lily whisked her into her chamber and went to gather the yet-unfinished wedding dress, and Lady Catrin and Lady Gillian to help with the stitching.

  Anna sank onto the bed, unable to believe her good fortune. By tonight, she would be Swen Siwardson’s bride.

  Anticipation thrummed through her veins, brought a flush to her cheeks and a lightness to her heart.

  Tonight, her life would be complete.

  * * *

  Swen—bathed and shaved, dressed in his finest wool tunic and braes, and fortified with brandywine—stood before the deep stone fireplace in Gwal Draig’s great hall and awaited his bride. In a matter of hours the chamber had been transformed from its usual neat but practical appearance into a wonderland of greenery and light. Greens and holly hung draped all about the room, and a multitude of candles in tall stands chased away the shadows of deepening night.

  Lily had outdone herself in her efforts to make this wedding a memory to cherish, although to Swen, the fact that Anna would bind herself to him willingly made the proceedings remarkable enough. He would never forget this hall, nor the sight of his friends gathered to join in the festivities, but the image of Anna as she crossed the room to his side would remain etched in his heart and mind for all his days.

  Her gold bliaut shimmered in the candlelight, the outline of her body in the snug-laced dress heating his blood. Her hair hung loose about her, crowned with a circlet of ivy, the mass of curls so soft, he could scarce resist the enticement to touch them. She’d left off the sling, the bandage on her hand barely showing from beneath the long, tight cuffs of her underdress.

  Anna stopped at Swen’s side, looked up at him and smiled. His dark green tunic contrasted with his light hair and eyes, the short sleeves exposing his brawny arms, each forearm encased in a chased brass armband. His handsome face shone with love. Swen reached for her hand, smiling himself at the way her fingers clung to his, and brought her hand to his lips to brush a kiss over her knuckles. “You are a vision surpassing any other,” he whispered to her, then led her to face the abbot.

  The words they spoke to each other, the promises they made, would echo in Anna’s memory forever. As would the love in Swen’s eyes as she came to him and gave herself over into his keeping.

  The feast that followed was a festive meal full of good food and good wishes. Mead, wine and ale flowed freely, engendering an ever-growing round of coarse jests and lewd suggestions. Anna’s cheeks burned at the comments that rose above the din from the tables below the dais where she sat, although the talk turned more bawdy as the evening progressed.

  ’Twas not difficult to ignore, however, for Anna’s attentions focused upon her husband to the exclusion of most else. She and Swen shared a trencher and goblet of burnished silver; his gaze holding her spellbound, he plied her with choice morsels of food and sips of fragrant spiced mead interspersed with whispered words of love.

  The entire day had been like a dream; now, as the meal progressed, it felt more and more real to her. Finally the subtlety, a confection of sweet cake and spun sugar, was served with much fanfare and another round of toasts. Swen held a bite of cake to her lips and bent to whisper in her ear. “The hour grows late, my heart. Shall we retire?”

  Her breath caught in her throat at the heat in his gaze, kindling a like fire within her. She nodded and took his hand.

  He led her from the hall amid much laughter, but with a sharp word from Lily and a stern glare from Ian, no one followed them. Anna had asked that they do so, not willing to endure the embarrassment of a public bedding.

  Once the wall of the spiral stair hid them from view, Swen swept her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers.

  He tasted of spices, sweet and savory upon her lips. His touch gentle, he nibbled at her lower lip and sighed, then continued up the stairs.

  Anna leaned down to unlatch the door to her chamber, but Swen nudged it closed with his hip, never breaking stride as he carried her across the room to the small hearth in the corner. His eyes glowing with a pale fire in the light from the flames, he eased her down his body to stand in front of him.

  He cupped her face in his hands, and gazed into her eyes. “Anna, you have my heart. Now I give you my soul,” he whispered against her lips, then set about to make her his.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Swen closed his hand gently about her injured hand and brought it to his lips to kiss the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

  He lifted the ivy circlet from her head and tossed it onto the chair near the fire, then twined his fingers through the spun silk of Anna’s hair. The sweet scent of honeysuckle rose to tease him, tempting him to nuzzle her neck and smooth her hair aside. “Your beauty humbles me, wife,” he murmured, capturing the lobe of her ear between his teeth and nibbling on the delicate morsel.

  She shivered beneath his hand, a faint moan rising from her lips. “That tickles,” she said, giggling and leaning her forehead against his chest. She laid her hand on his, then slid it up to the edge of his sleeve, her fingers caressing as she clasped them about his upper arm. “Do it again.”

  “As you wish, my love.”

  He gathered her hair together and drew it over her shoulder, teasing the nape of her neck with lips and teeth as he stroked his fingertips along her wrist.

  “You make my legs weak.” She slid her hand to his shoulder and clung to him, her mouth seeking his.

  Still holding her wrist, he gathered her close and concentrated his attention upon her mouth. He nipped at her lower lip, then lavished his tongue over the spot. When she moaned, he slipped a finger along the upper curve of her mouth, stroking the bow of her lip before easing his hand down her throat to the neck of her bliaut.

  She arched into the caress, gasping against his mouth. “Could we sit down?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  He stepped away from her and, his hand still grasping her wrist, led her to the bed.

  Someone had readied the bed, the coverlet drawn down, the smooth linen sheets sprinkled with dried rose petals and sweet herbs. The pillows mounded against the headboard enticed Swen to lift Anna onto the mattress, then sit back against the bolsters and draw her into his lap.

  In this position, he needn’t worry that he’d hurt her hand, but could instead concentrate upon gifting Anna with all the pleasure he could give her. “You told the abbot you would tempt me beyond my will to resist, my heart,” he whispered against the back of her neck, chuckling at the faint shudder that passed over her at his touch. “The thought has preyed on my mind ever since.” He rested his chin on her shoulder and pressed his cheek against hers. “Tempt me, wife—as I would tempt you.”

  A flood of heat poured through Anna at Swen’s words. Within the limits of her imagination these past weeks she had explored his body, taking her time as she caressed each muscled limb, the smooth planes of his face, the firm softness of his lips.

  Her heart beat faster; ’twas time to discover if reality surpassed her dreams.

  Chafing against the frustration of not using her injured hand, Anna placed her left hand on Swen’s knee and smoothed her hand over the soft wool of his braes, lingering on the firm flesh of his thigh. From his soft growl against her nape, she knew he liked what she was doing, so she lengthened the strokes, moving her hand higher.

  “Yes, love,” he groaned, angling his leg so that her touch edged ever closer to the heart of his desire. She could feel his manhood pressing against her, reassuring her that
he enjoyed her touch.

  Her eyes closed, heightening her senses. She yearned to feel more than wool beneath her fingers—the smooth warmth of his skin, the hair-roughened expanse of his chest, his legs…

  She shifted on his lap, turning to tug at his tunic. He wished to see her boldness? She’d be pleased to oblige him in this. “Take this off, milord husband,” she said. “You don’t need all these clothes.”

  One blond brow rose, along with the corner of his mouth. “Indeed, wife?” His smile widened, his hand went to the side lacing of her bliaut. “I could say the same about you. May I?” Without waiting for her answer, he untied the knot and began to loosen the riband.

  Though ’twas difficult to accomplish one-handed, Anna managed to push his tunic up to his shoulders. Grinning, he whipped it over his head and tossed it aside.

  He made swift work of unlacing her bliaut; she’d have taunted him with his skill at the task, but she didn’t wish to taint their lovemaking with reminders of past loves. Though she knew he didn’t come to her a virgin, she’d rather not know anything of how he gained his expertise.

  His hand protecting her injury, he slithered her out of both gowns and cast them off the bed, leaving her clad in a sheer silk shift. One strap slipped from her shoulder, but when she would have pushed it back into place, Swen stayed her hand. “Nay, temptress—it heats my blood to see you in all your disarray.” He thrust his hand into her hair and tenderly eased her onto the mattress. “Your hair spread out upon my pillows—” he gathered the curling tresses in his hand and smoothed them over his arm “—trailing over my skin—” He drew in his breath. “It inspires me to make you more disheveled.”

  Anna stretched out on the mattress beside him, his gaze as it played over her body setting her pulse to thrumming, making her fingers ache to caress him. She reached for him even as he bent his head and tugged the other strap aside with his teeth.