by Holby Cindy
Llyr’s growl rumbled and the dog rose to stand awkwardly on the bed. She steadied him with a down motion of her hand. Llyr kept his eyes upon her, waiting for any sign to attack. He sensed the tension in the room as clearly as everyone else present. The air about them fairly crackled and popped like a fire.
Had she changed that much in the years since Renauld had last seen her? She’d been nothing more than a child at the time, but her hair was much the same hue and her frame already taller and leaner than most. She cast a quick glance in his direction and saw he looked much the same, except now he carried a man’s weight instead of a boy’s. She still could not stand the sight of him, and the memory of what he had done to that puppy still sickened her as it did Han. She could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to throw their uninvited guest from the nearest tower.
Rhys stood, her sword held lightly in his hand as Renauld continued to stare. “Have you business with my wife?” He twisted the blade in his hand casually. “If so, then you may speak to her through me.”
“Tell your wife that the king has bade me return both of you into his care as soon as possible,” Renauld spat out. “He gave Salisbury the same task. Since her father is dead, we need only wait to put him in the ground to be on our way.” He turned on his heel and left.
Elaine could not believe the cruelty of his words. Tears came once more. Surely the king was not so cruel as to demand her presence so soon after her father’s death.
“Vannoy!”
Renauld stopped at Rhys’s shout. He had no choice since his way was barred by those who stood at the door. He turned and stood with his hand placed upon his hip, close to the hilt of his sword.
“You will show Lord Edward the respect due him,” Rhys said. “We will observe the proper time for mourning and then my wife and I will journey to present ourselves to the king. You may return to him with the knowledge that you have delivered his message, and give him my wife’s gratitude for his concern. As we are now in a state of mourning and there is scant place for your comfort, we will not be offended if you return to your own lands until you see fit to deliver my message to the king.”
Eliane watched Han’s eyes flicker in acknowledgment of the words Rhys left unspoken. Renauld would be delivered to the borders of Chasmore at once. Either upright on his horse or stuffed in a sack and dragged behind. Either way, it would be done.
“Leave us for a moment,” Rhys commanded those watching as Renauld stormed off, quickly followed by Han. Madwyn stood in the door for a moment, her eyes questioning.
Eliane had no answers for her. Too much had happened in too short a time. She could not think. She merely nodded in what she hoped was a reassuring way.
“I will be waiting to attend you,” Madwyn said as she shut the door. Llyr whined and came to her, his nose bumping her arm. He placed his head in her lap and settled with a huff of air.
Rhys stood before the fireplace, his hand on the mantel and his head bent as if he studied the embers. The fire was dying. It needed to be stoked. He rolled his shoulders, and the muscles rippled beneath his smooth skin. She watched in fascination as they moved, and marveled at the power she had felt, seething beneath her hand. Had it taken greater strength on his part to hold back? Surely he’d wanted to kill Renauld for his impudence and disrespect. Did fear of the king’s repercussions stay his hand or fear of Renauld? She knew nothing of Renauld’s fighting skills, only of his black heart and evil ways. Was there some history between the two men that she did not know of?
What did she know of her husband beyond the tales told of his birth and the fact that her father had saved his life when he was just a lad? She did not even know in what manner her father had saved him, only that Rhys owed him his life. That was why he’d married her. To honor his debt to her father. Did he find the bargain ill met now that he had Renauld Vannoy as an enemy?
Rhys turned, finally, from his contemplation of the fire. He gathered his clothes and put them on with great care. When finally he was dressed once more, he came to the bed. He gazed down at her for a long moment and then picked up a tendril of her hair that curled over her arm. Llyr growled and Rhys silenced him with a look. He rubbed his fingers over the locks, as he had before, when her braid came undone during the battle. “ ’Twoud be a shame to hide such a thing of beauty.”
“Milord?” Why would she hide her hair?
“At court. The fashions of women escape me at times.”
Of what does he speak?
His face changed, his moment of whimsy gone. He dropped her hair as if it burned him and straightened. “I am sorry for the pain I caused you this eve. Rest assured that I will not do so again.”
She shook her head in confusion. He was so formal, so stiff. Where was the man who teased her? Who fought for her? Who nearly drove her mad with his kiss? “I do not understand.”
Rhys looked down, beyond, above, and then finally at her, with dark eyes full of desperate pain.
“I will not touch you again, Eliane. Unless you desire it.”
Desire it? The door closed behind him. “I have lost something precious,” she said to Llyr. But for the life of her, she could not put a name to what it was she had lost.
Renauld snatched his arm from the huntsman’s grasp. He dares much, this servant of Edward. No longer Edward’s servant. Now de Remy’s through his marriage to Eliane. Eliane…
“Do you need help to find your way?” Han asked.
Renauld’s hand touched the hilt of his sword. If only he could wipe that self-satisfied smirk off the huntsman’s face. But he dared not. Not when he was within the walls of Aubregate. He stepped out to the bailey and turned his face upward to the snow, hoping it would cool his temper…for the moment.
His men-at-arms and horses were sheltered beneath an overhang by the gate. Apparently Aubregate had not extended the same hospitality to his men that they had to Salisbury’s. Another slight that he would remember when he was master of this keep. Another thing that he would enjoy using against Eliane.
Elaine…
“Tell your master I will see him at court,” Renauld said as he swung into the saddle. He knew his men and horses were exhausted, but he had little choice. The walls were full of armed men just waiting for an excuse to bury him beneath a barrage of arrows.
Someday they will swear to me…Someday soon they would all be under his rule. De Remy would be dead and Eliane would be his. As his horse settled wearily into a slow trot through the snow, he allowed his thoughts to dwell on the most surprising revelation of this eve. Eliane.
When had she become so beautiful? She was not as he remembered. Not at all. Never in his wildest imaginings had he pictured her thus. His cock had sprung to life at the sight of her with her hair tumbled down and her face raw with emotion. The sight of her virgin’s blood on the sheets had nearly driven him mad with want. To have been the first to touch her as de Remy had been…It should have been he. She had been under his nose all these years and he had not seen it. He’d been biding his time, waiting for Edward’s certain demise, waiting for the exact moment to go before the king…
They would both pay. De Remy with his life and Eliane with bits and pieces of her body. The first thing he would take would be the tips of her ears and after that…he would just take whatever part tired him first.
He summoned one of his men to his side. “Ride ahead. Make sure there is a woman available for me when I arrive.” The man nodded wearily and spurred his horse onward into the snowy night. Renauld dropped his hand to the knife he wore tucked beneath his tunic as he shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. His throbbing cock would soon be sated and he would practice his plans for Eliane on whatever wench had the misfortune to find herself in his bed this night.
Chapter Sixteen
He had promised not to touch her unless she wanted him to. But there was no reason why he could not watch her. So watch her he did all during the day of bitter cold as they set out to answer the king’s summons.
Tra
veling with a wife was an eye-opening experience. It required a cart and a horse to carry a tent, bedding, household items, her wardrobe, and a maid named Khati, who was much more excited than her mistress about the summons to London.
Four men-at-arms wearing Aubregate colors and a boy from the forest named Jess, whose sole purpose was to carry messages to and from Aubregate, traveled with them. Rhys had yet to determine whether the boy had ears like Eliane’s, because he was wearing one of the woolen caps that Han seemed so found of.
Edward’s man Cedric traveled with them also. He’d sworn fealty to Eliane and, through her, Rhys and declared that he would continue his role as attendant to the Lord of Aubregate if it pleased Rhys for him to do so. Rhys had never had anyone beyond Mathias to look after his personal needs. The true test of Cedric’s worth would come at the end of the day when their camp had to be set up.
The day was waning. That time would soon be upon them. He motioned for Cedric. “Ride ahead with Mathias and see if he can find an acceptable place for us to spend the night. I fear it has been a long day for milady and I would see to her rest.”
“I will see to milady’s comfort,” Cedric assured him, and the two rode on ahead, their horses plowing through the snow that had finally ceased falling the night before.
The snow made traveling with a cart difficult, but there was no help for it. He would not consider allowing Eliane to sleep without shelter, even though she assured him she was quite capable of doing so. Of her capability he needed no assurance. He’d marveled at it as he’d stood by her side during her father’s funeral and the swearing of fealty afterward.
Rhys found he had great doubts about his own capability. Not touching her was much more difficult than he’d imagined it to be when he made the promise. At times it was necessary to touch her. He’d taken her arm as they climbed the steps of the church for the swearing, placed his hands about her waist to help her from her horse as they came to the cemetery for Edward’s burial. It was also customary for a husband to serve his wife during meals, and this he did with great care as she watched him with those emerald eyes that were full of grief for her lost father. He could see the hurt in them, caused by his own brutal attack on their wedding night. How else would she consider it? It had been tantamount to rape. She’d had no choice but to submit.
She ought to anticipate their lovemaking eagerly and with passion. But would it ever be so? Rhys shook his head at the twisted trail his thoughts followed. He could not undo what was done. He could only hope that she would understand that completing their union was the only way to ensure her safety against Renauld.
He turned in his saddle to check on the progress of his caravan. Four men-at-arms rode before him, two of Peter’s and two of his own. Eliane rode behind him, speaking earnestly with Salisbury. It was good that they talked. They had shared memories of Edward, for whom Peter had squired when she was just a child.
“How fares your wife, Peter?” Eliane asked.
“Lydia fares extremely well, especially when breeding. We have another child due in late spring.”
“How many does that make?”
“Four. Two sons and a daughter so far. Lydia hopes for another daughter.”
There are only daughters born to the women of Aubregate…What would it be like to have a daughter by Eliane? To see her grow big from his seed…Once more Rhys stopped his musings. There would be no child until she chose to let it happen. He would not put her through the agony again. He could not stand to see that betrayal in her eyes.
“She has sent a gift for you,” Peter said.
“Indeed? That is kind, indeed, as we have never even met,” Eliane exclaimed.
“I admit I have told her much about you,” Peter said. He looked toward her hair. “Including the thing that makes you different from the women at court.”
Her hand went self-consciously to her ears. She should not have to hide her ears. They are beautiful as she is.
“I do not know much about the fashions of women,” Peter continued. “But the current head gear does much to hide the hair and what lies beneath.” He pulled a carefully wrapped package from beneath his cloak. “It is called a wimple.” He shrugged as if knowing what it was called would explain its purpose.
Eliane took the packet and dropped it into the pack attached to her saddle. She looked at Rhys with confusion plainly written on her face.
“I am certain you will know what to do with it once you look at it,” he said simply. “But I will leave the choice of whether you hide your ears or reveal them up to you. It matters not one way or the other to me.” Except that he would not see her hurt.
“We should camp soon,” Peter commented. “I fear the wind is ever increasing and with it the cold.”
“I sent Mathias ahead to find us a place. And Cedric to make sure it is practical.”
“ ’Tis a good way for Mathias to learn,” Peter agreed. “And Cedric is wise enough to let the boy think it through on his own. That is the way I learned from Edward.”
“I feel I do not spend enough time giving him the instruction he needs,” Rhys said.
“Is not the best way to learn by watching?” Eliane asked. “And asking questions? Mathias seems to have no fear of asking if there is something he does not understand.”
“Believe me, he has no fear of talking at all,” Rhys replied dryly, and once more her musical laugh brightened his day.
“A rider approaches!” one of the leading men-at-arms called out. Rhys and Peter immediately put hands to their swords, but it was only Mathias.
“I have found a place,” Mathias said eagerly as he rode up. “Not more than a mile ahead.”
“What thinks Cedric of your choice?” Rhys asked.
“He must approve, milord, or he would not have sent me back to tell you.”
“I will surely beat you,” Rhys said as Mathias grinned wickedly. “Only the fact that you are well padded at the moment and numb from cold keeps me from doing so.”
“Surely you will not,” Eliane exclaimed. “ ‘Twould serve no purpose except to warm him up, and that would be a reward on such a day as today.”
“It would also take too much effort.” Peter joined in the teasing. “It is hard to achieve a full swing when one’s arm is hindered by a cloak.” Mathias merely shook his head and made his way back to the front of the troop to lead them onward.
“My grandmother found neither her cloak nor her robes to be any hindrance at all,” Rhys said. “As she usually had some sort of weapon handy such as a stout stick or a willow branch, which was especially painful when applied to bare skin.”
“Rhys!” Eliane exclaimed. “Surely she did not.”
“Every chance she got.” Rhys shrugged. “Do not let it trouble you,” he said when her look conveyed her dismay. “It was simply the way of things. She was convinced I had the devil inside me and the only way to remove it was by beatings and prayer.”
“ ’Tis a shame she did not have Vannoy in her grasp,” Peter commented, then rode ahead.
“While Vannoy’s ways are not pleasing to me, I find I owe him much,” Rhys said softly with his eyes steady upon her face. Her concern for his childhood beatings heartened him. Could it mean that she cared for him somewhat, despite the horrible events of their wedding night?
“Whatever for?” Eliane’s curiosity was piqued.
“If not for him, I would never have met you.”
The campsite chosen by Mathias was tolerable. It sat in a hollow and was surrounded by trees, which would help break the wind. The branches were thick enough that the snow was not deep and a stand of yews had kept the snow from drifting into it. There was a stream that ran beneath a sheet of ice close by. Cedric had taken advantage of his time alone to snare several unsuspecting rabbits and had those roasting by the time the group arrived. The tents were quickly set into place, the horses cared for, and all concerned ready to seek their rest in whatever warmth they could find.
Eliane, with Llyr by her side,
yawned from her seat by the fire. The dog yawned also and stretched as Khati went to Eliane’s side and whispered into her ear. Eliane nodded and with a gracious smile to the men about the fire followed Khati to the tent while the dog went off to sniff at the trees before retiring with his mistress. Eliane stopped for a word with Cedric, who nodded and pointed to a small tent at the opposite side of the fire. The boy Jess was rolled up in a fur-lined cape by the fire and the men-at-arms were visiting the trees to relieve themselves before seeking their rest.
“I have told William to set the guards.” Peter interrupted Rhys’s perusal of his bride as she went into the tent. “I will retire now. Shall we try for an early start?”
Peter was, no doubt, most anxious to see his wife. “Yes,” Rhys agreed. “I think I will check on Yorath before I sleep.” He used his horse as an excuse to avoid his wife.
Peter looked toward the tent where Eliane had disappeared, then back at Rhys with a bemused expression on his face. “It seems to me that you have found exactly what you most wanted to avoid.”
Rhys well recalled their conversation on marriage, held after the king’s edict. “At least I did not have to choose a bride. I had one chosen for me.”
“Yet you still find yourself at the whims of another.” Peter chuckled as he made his way to his tent. “But still, there are benefits to be had.”
No benefits, more’s the pity.
The guards were set; the rest of the men found what warmth they could in the tent provided for them. Rhys went to check Yorath but kept his mind on his wife as he ran his hands over his steed’s legs and flanks.
What rituals did she have when she made ready for bed? Did Khati comb her hair? Did she apply lotions to her face and hands? Did she bundle up in woolen gowns and socks or did she prefer the cool feel of the sheets beneath heavy piles of blankets?
Rhys moved to the stallion’s head and ran his hand down the long nose. Yorath’s dark eyes flickered in the firelight and he tossed his head as Llyr padded silently up to them and sat down.
