A Memory of Love (39 page)

“You are a de Beaulie,” she answered him.

“So are you,” he replied.

A strange look passed over her features, and then she laughed bitterly. “So I am. Twice, by marriage, I vow.” Then she asked him, “Why did you wed me, Rafe?”

“For the land, of course, lady,” he answered.

“And?”

“Because anyone else who might have you would have mistreated you” was the surprising reply.

“You felt sorry for me?” Her tone bordered on outrage.

“Aye,” he readily agreed, “but I also lusted after you. You know how very beautiful you are. I think one reason Edward was angry at me for offering for you is that he, too, sees how lush and ripe you have become. You are no longer the avid little lass who so eagerly sought to go on crusade, Rhonwyn. You are a very desirable woman,
and now you are mine
.”

“Edward thinks I am desirable?” she said, a small smile on her lips. Her green eyes were thoughtful.

“Could you not see the hunger for you in his eyes?” Rafe replied. “He loves my sister, make no mistake, Rhonwyn, but desire you, even briefly, he did. And the secret knowledge of it rendered him full of guilty rage. He directed that anger at you, you will recall.”

“I did not see it,” she said. “I was too busy defending myself from his cruel charges and half truths, my lord.”

“And what do you feel for him?” Rafe asked, attempting to keep the jealousy in his voice from her.

“What should I feel for him?” she countered.

He closed his eyes a moment, and then opening them, said, “You will drive me to murder one day, lady.”

“But I suspect not, my lord, before you have plundered my body and gained the pleasures that I can give you,” she taunted him.

“What of the pleasures I can give you?” he returned.

“Can you?”
she replied coolly. “We shall see, my lord. It is to be hoped you are more skilled in the amatory arts than Edward was. There was very little he aroused in me but a desire to have it over and done with as quickly as possible.” That, Rhonwyn knew even as she spoke the words, was not entirely true, but her heart still hurt from the brutal rejection.

“You will find I am an entirely different man than my cousin,” Rafe promised her. “You will long for more in my arms, and not less.”

“ 'Tis to be hoped your actions match or even exceed your boasting, my lord,” Rhonwyn mocked him gently.

“As your aunt has so skillfully arranged our daily accommodations, lady, it will be a while longer before I may make good my gasconade,” he said with an amused chuckle.

Rhonwyn was forced to laugh. “Passion is the better for the waiting,” she advised him, her emerald eyes twinkling. Perhaps this marriage would not be as bad as she thought. To her surprise Rafe de Beaulie was a humorous man, and she certainly admired his loyalty and devotion to his sister, Katherine.

“Shall I tell you how I intend to make love to you the first time I bed you?” he said, his silvery blue eyes making contact with hers.

Rhonwyn felt her cheeks grow warm. “You are indelicate, my lord.” Was her voice shaking? Her knees suddenly felt weak as she bestrode her horse. She gripped her reins more tightly and hoped he didn't notice.

His laughter was low and insinuating. “I shall have you naked,” he began softly. “I want to see the candlelight and the firelight flickering over your body, Rhonwyn. I will kiss you. Not just upon the lips, but each tiny bit of your flesh will feel the touch of my mouth. You will be warm and yielding in my arms, Rhonwyn.”

“How certain you are,” she laughed.

“Aye, I am certain!” he said with a smile.

“What will you do when you have finished kissing me?” she demanded.

Now he laughed. He liked her boldness as long as it was reserved only for him. “I shall fondle those sweet breasts of yours and suckle upon their nipples until the flesh is swollen and aching with desire. I shall caress you until you are weak with longing.”

Rhonwyn felt a small tingling beginning in her nether regions. She shifted nervously in her saddle.

He saw the motion and grinned wickedly at her. “I shall find your sweet jewel and torture it until you are creamy with your own sweet essence. Then I shall cover you with my body and enter you slowly, slowly,
slowly
. You shall feel me hard and throbbing my desire inside your sweet sheath, Rhonwyn. You will melt with pleasure within my arms, my beautiful bride, because, Rhonwyn, you are a woman who was meant to be loved, and there is no man on this earth who will love you as I do. And I will not be satisfied until you love me. Not make love, but
love
. Do you understand what it is I am saying to you?”

Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was shallow. His words aroused her in a way no man ever had. The tingle mushroomed until it shattered itself, and she sighed deeply. Then hearing his words, her eyes flew open, her look startled, her cheeks blushing guiltily.

“By the rood!” he swore softly, realizing what had happened to her. “Lady, it is all I can do not to stop this caravan and take you into the woods. My God, how you whet my appetites! Others might call you shameless. I will not, provided you keep your passion for me in the future. Praise God we shall reach Ardley tomorrow!”

“So soon?” she whispered. She was both astounded and distressed by the effect he had had on her with his wicked words.

“Not soon enough, lady,” he told her frankly.

She kicked her horse into a loping canter and rode ahead of their train, the cool wind soothing the heat in her face. What had just happened was truly disturbing, and such a thing had certainly never happened to her before. I do not understand, she thought, confused. Why should this man have such an effect upon me? How can my body desire him when I do not? She shook her head, suddenly irritated. I am tired, Rhonwyn thought, of being controlled by men. First my father. Then Edward. Then the caliph, and now Rafe de Beaulie. Why can a woman not live her own life without the interference of men?

She had surely asked the question over and over again, but had never received a proper answer to it. Glynn had said respectable women didn't run their own lives, but he had not explained why that had to be.

Only women like her aunt had a certain measure of autonomy, it seemed, but then even Gwynllian was answerable to her bishop, a man, of course. A queen could rule in her husband's absence or in her own right in certain cases, but her counselors were always men. Why not women? Why just men? Suddenly she laughed aloud at herself. She was asking questions to which there were obviously no answers. Men ruled the world, and that was all there was to it. She was married to Rafe de Beaulie, and for better or for worse, she was going to have to make the best of it, but she didn't intend to be a docile and gentle creature like her sister-in-law, Katherine. As Rafe was now stuck with her, he would have to accept that Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn was who she was, and there would be no changing her!

Early the following afternoon they reached Ardley. Rhonwyn had to admit she was impressed by the house. Rafe always referred to his branch of the family as poor relations, but his house was hardly a humble dwelling. It was constructed of stone with a slate roof and, to her surprise, fortified with a small moat that encircled the main building.

“They got royal permission for that somewhere along the line,” the abbess Gwynllian noted. “Undoubtedly it is because we are so close to Wales here. The land looks prosperous, niece. You should be happy here, and it is more manageable than Haven.”

“You will remain the night?” Rafe de Beaulie asked politely.

The abbess chuckled. “Alas, sir, we cannot. I will, of course, want to satisfy my curiosity and see the inside. Afterward, however, we must be on our way. They are expecting us at St. Hilda's tonight.”

There was a small wooden bridge that led across the narrow watercourse to a gravel path. They entered the house by means of a stone porch. Carved wooden screens were set on either side of the opening into the hall, which was to their left.

“The kitchen, the buttery, the pantry are on the right,” Rafe said. “I have a library behind the hall where I do the estate business.”

At the far end of the hall the abbess noted two oriels, one on either side of the room, that allowed much light into the room. There was a fine large fireplace on the right. The high board was set on a low but elevated dais. The table was of well-polished oak. There were herbs sprinkled upon the floor. The house had a well-kept look about it.

“The staircase to the bedchambers and the solar come down by the left oriel window,” he explained. “Would you like to see the upstairs, my lady abbess?”

“Aye, I will admit to being curious.” She smiled at him.

At that moment, however, Katherine de Beaulie came down the stairs and entered into the hall. “Rafe!” she called, her voice sweet and welcoming.

“Edward came home several days ago and told me you had taken the lady Rhonwyn for your wife. I hope you will both be very happy.” She hugged her brother, and the abbess saw her look was loving. She turned to Rhonwyn. “Welcome to Ardley, Rhonwyn. May you be content within these walls. My mother was, and the women who came before her.” She embraced her somewhat startled sister-in-law, behaving as if the marriage between her brother and Rhonwyn was a wonderful thing. “I have brought you a gift, Rhonwyn. She is waiting upstairs for you.”

For a moment Rhonwyn looked puzzled, and then suddenly she said,
“Enit?”,
and when Katherine nodded with a smile, Rhonwyn could not keep herself from hugging Edward's wife. “Oh, thank you, Katherine!”

“Her loyalty is to you alone. Once she knew you were alive, I knew I could not keep her from you,” Katherine said. “Would you like me to give you a tour of the house? I know it far better than my brother, who only knows where to go to sleep, to eat, and to pee,” Katherine laughed.

“Please,” Rhonwyn said. Then she and the abbess followed after Katherine as she led them upstairs. Rafe watched them go, and when he knew he would not be observed, he smiled. When he had first seen his sister he feared that Rhonwyn would be unkind, but before she could even get her bearings, Kate had won her over with her natural sweetness. The abbess, he had noted, was equally relieved. He took the cup of wine offered by an attentive servant and sat down by his fire.

Upstairs Katherine showed her new sister-in-law the master chamber with its sunny solar and garderobe. There were also two smaller chambers. Each of the rooms, Katherine proudly pointed out, had its own fireplace. “The house is very tight,” she said, “and the windows face south and west. Even in our awful Shropshire winters these rooms are toasty warm. My mother far preferred her solar on a winter's day to the hall below.”

At the sound of the voices Enit hurried from the master chamber. “Oh, my lady, my lady!” Then she burst into tears.

Touched, Rhonwyn embraced her serving woman. “It's all right now, Enit. I'm here, and we have a fine new home, don't we?”

“Yes, my lady,” the young woman sniffed.

“My lady abbess,” Katherine said, “will you allow me to travel with you as far as Haven? At this hour I cannot hope to reach home by sunset, but I should be grateful to be somewhat nearer there by evening.”

“Will your husband worry, my dear?” the abbess inquired.

“Nay. I told him I should travel with you and he would probably not see me until the morrow sometime. I have half a dozen men-at-arms with me, and your road is but a mile away from Haven.”

“Of course, child, you are welcome to travel with me,” the abbess said.

Suddenly there was the sound of a child crying, and Rhonwyn realized that there was a cradle by the solar fireplace. Walking over, she saw a swaddled infant lying in it. The baby looked up at her, and Rhonwyn jumped back. The child had Edward de beaulie's eyes and looked at Rhonwyn in the same way.

“Oh,” Katherine said. “Neddie has startled you. I am so sorry. He is just two months old, and I certainly could-n't leave him behind at Haven.”

“Why not?” Rhonwyn demanded. Had Katherine brought the child to torture her?

“He would have starved,” Katherine said softly. “I do not believe in wet nurses. There was no danger in bringing him to my brother's house. Come and meet your nephew now. He will grow up with the children that you and Rafe have. Is that not wonderful?” She picked up the infant and handed him to Rhonwyn before her sister-in-law might demur.

The abbess almost laughed aloud at the look of terror on her niece's face. “Cuddle him, child,” she said in her Welsh tongue. “He will not bite you. You do not smell of milk as his mother does.”

Rhonwyn nestled the baby boy in her arms, her terror replaced by a feeling of amazement and wonder. “He really looks just like Edward,” she finally said.

“Doesn't he?” Katherine crowed proudly. “I hope your first son is his father's mirror image. Men are so vain over these things, and Rafe in particular.”

“Perhaps my first child will be a daughter,” Rhonwyn ventured.

“Then I hope she looks like you, sister!” was the sweet reply. “You are truly the most beautiful woman I ever saw. My brother is a fortunate man. I hope you will eventually learn to love him as I love Edward. Do not think me insensitive, Rhonwyn, for I am not. I suspect you cared deeply for Edward. He is a difficult man, but I have known him my whole life long, and I know I am the better wife for him. You are impulsive and slightly reckless, like Rafe. You do not realize it yet, but you are strangely well matched, though you, I think, are the stronger. Be kind to my brother.” She took her son from Rhonwyn. “You will want to refresh yourself, my lady abbess, before we are on the road again. I will leave you and go down to visit with my brother for a few minutes. I am ready when you are.” Her son in her arms, Katherine de Beaulie hurried from the solar.

Rhonwyn sat down heavily.

Joining her, her aunt said, “I have never known you to be this quiet, my child. What is it?”

Rhonwyn was silent for a long moment, and then she said, “I really am remarried, aunt. I have a new husband. A new house. A sister-in-law whom I should hate, but cannot. And I am expected to have babies!”