A Memory of Love (40 page)

“You are no longer a child, Rhonwyn,” the abbess said gently. “You are a grown and experienced woman of noble birth. It is indeed past time you had children. This is the life you will live now. Make your peace with it, my child. You are very fortunate to have been rescued by Rafe de Beaulie. He is, I believe, a far better man than his cousin.”

Rhonwyn nodded. “I know,” she agreed, “but he is just so annoying, aunt! Part of me wants to accept my new life. Another part of me wants to fight with Rafe for daring to marry me! What am I to do?”

“My dear niece, in the never-ending battle between men and women, I have absolutely no experience, but I very much believe that you and that handsome husband of yours will eventually come to an understanding before one of you kills the other.” She arose. “Now, call Enit and show me to the garderobe before I must be on my way. I will join you downstairs, my child.”

In the hall Rhonwyn found her brother had joined Rafe and Katherine. They were laughing as they shared wine and biscuits. “What is your cause for such humor?” she asked as she came to Glynn's side.

“Rafe and I are comparing stories of growing up with a sister,” Glynn said with a chuckle.

“And what have you discovered?” she asked him with a smile.

“That girls are all alike,” he laughed.

“You will miss me when you are in your cold cell, subsisting on salt fish, bread, and bad wine,” Rhonwyn predicted.

“Aye,” Glynn agreed. “I will miss you, Rhonwyn.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Damn you, little brother,” she said softly. “You are the only person I know who can make me cry.”

He embraced her tenderly. “Be content, sister, and be happy with this new life, this other chance you have been given. I know that I am glad to be returning to Shrewsbury Abbey where my life awaits me.”

“And what will poor Oth and Dewi do without you, brother?” she asked him.

“They want to remain with you, Rhonwyn. I have already gained Rafe's permission in the matter. He is glad to have them. He knows it will make you happy.” Glynn lowered his voice. “He is a good man, sister. Do not take him lightly.”

“I won't,” she promised.

The abbess came downstairs, accompanied by Enit. “Give me a sip of wine, nephew Rafe, and then I shall be on my way,” she said.

When the wine had been consumed, the abbess, Katherine de Beaulie, her infant, and Glynn ap Llywelyn took their leave of Rafe and Rhonwyn. Rhonwyn watched them go. Even though her brother had promised to visit when the abbott permitted him to come, she was already lonely, and only God knew if she would ever see her aunt again. When Rafe's arm went about her shoulder, she did not shrug it off.

“Come,” he said when their guests had at last disappeared from sight. “You have not met your servants, wife. Do you like the house?”

She nodded. “It is a fine house,” she told him.

“But not a castle,” he remarked.

“I was not raised in a castle, my lord.”

“Nor is it a caliph's luxurious palace,” he noted.

“I was not raised in a palace, either,” she replied. “Why do you seek to quarrel with me, my lord?”

“What, Rhonwyn, will you not fight with me?” he teased her. “Pray God you do not turn into a meek and mild creature like my sweet sister, Kate. Such decorum in a sister is fine, but 'tis deadly dull in a wife, I fear.”

“How would you know, sir? Have you ever had a wife before?” she snapped back at him.

He chortled. “That is better, and in answer to your question, nay, I have never had a wife before, but I think I may enjoy one.” The silver blue eyes danced wickedly at her.

“You are impossible,” she fumed.

“ 'Tis true, lady, but are you yet sad over the departure of your aunt and your brother now?” he queried.

Suddenly Rhonwyn laughed. “You are clever, my lord, perhaps too clever, I fear, for a simple lass raised in a fortress in the Welshry,” she murmured. Now her eyes were dancing wickedly.

“Simple lass?”
he scoffed disbelieving. “Your
simplicity
has gained me over three hundred acres, Rhonwyn. My father tried his whole life to get that land from his brother, Edward's father, but to no avail. Now, at last, thanks to you, we have it!” He gave her a hug as they entered the house again.

“Did it belong to Ardley originally?” she asked him.

“My grandfather, and Edward's, purchased Ardley for my father so he would have his own lands, but our grandsire retained the acreage in question because he felt it added to Haven's prestige to have more land. When Edward's father inherited it, my father attempted to purchase it from him, but my uncle would not sell it. It always galled my father that his own brother would not give him back the land that rightfully belonged to Ardley. When the queen's counselors asked what forfeit I would have for you, I chose this land. It was not so great a parcel that would make us appear greedy, and it matched my lands. It was to all the obvious choice. Edward dared not refuse me, although I know he was angered,” Rafe chuckled. “It truly pained him to release those acres to me. Fortunately he had no other option.”

“So you really did marry me for the land,” she said almost irritably.

“Of course,” he replied. “You are the first woman that I ever considered who had a respectable dower portion.”

“Beast!”
She hit him on the arm, and he laughed.

“Surely you are not a romantic, Rhonwyn? You know as well as I do that marriage is an arrangement between families, mutually acceptable to them both. You were married to Edward to seal a treaty between England and Wales. You have been married to me because I saw an opportunity to regain what was mine. You have profited as well, wife. Shameless hussy that you are, you have made a second respectable marriage and saved both your honor and your father's good name.” Rafe surveyed her, curious as to how she would react to his speech.

Rhonwyn's look, however, was carefully masked. She had not forgotten the words he had spoken to her the day before.
And I will not be satisfied until you love me.
Then she smiled a wicked smile. “You have done quite well for yourself, Rafe. Not only have you gained back the land your family lost, but you have wed above your station by marrying the prince of the Welsh's daughter.”

He chuckled. “You will not be easy to live with, I can see it even now. Come, wife, the servants await. Kate was so busy being house proud that she did not introduce you as she should have.” He took her hand, leading her back into the house where she met Browne, the steward; Albert and his wife, Albertina, who divided the cooking and baking chores between them; and the three maidservants, Dilys, Mavis, and Annie. There was a kitchen boy, Tam, who scrubbed pots, turned the spit, and edged the knives. Lizzie and her sister, Rosie, were in charge of the laundry. There was Peterman, the bailiff, several grooms for the stables, and a hayward who kept the hedges trimmed. Rafe, Rhonwyn learned, kept his own accounts and ordered what supplies the estate could not grow or manufacture.

The servants were friendly but polite. They seemed to be pleased to have a new mistress. She thanked them for their greeting, and then said, “You have met my Enit and will welcome her as warmly, I hope.” Then Rhonwyn smiled at them.

“Aye, my lady,” Browne replied. “A good worker your Enit is, we already know. She has prepared your chamber for you and earlier unpacked your possessions that she and Lady Katherine brought from Haven.”

For a moment Rhonwyn was tempted to say she wanted nothing from Haven, but she swallowed back the urge. She wasn't a wealthy woman, nor was her husband a rich man. She needed everything she had, and her pride would have to accept that fact.

“Come,” Rafe said softly to her. “I will take you to our chamber, wife.” His fingers closed about her arm.

“Our chamber?”

“ 'Tis a small house,” he murmured low. “The custom here is that the master and the mistress share a bed. 'Tis not like my cousin's fine castle where the lady has her own apartments and the lord his.” He half dragged her up the narrow staircase and into the solar. “Go down to the hall, girl,” he told Enit, who scurried out at his command. “Now, wife, we will talk,” Rafe de Beaulie said.

Rhonwyn sat herself in a high-backed oak chair by the fire. “What shall we talk about, my lord?” she asked him sweetly.

“You realize that I positively lust after you, Rhonwyn, don't you? I have said it before,” he remarked frankly as he stood before her.

“Aye,” she managed to respond, looking directly up at him. Why did he have to be so damned handsome, she thought, admitting to herself that she could feel her own lust being engaged. It had been almost a year since she had lain in a man's arms, felt a man's weight on her, sighed with pleasure at a lover's eager entrance into her body.

He smiled, and she flushed, knowing he somehow read her randy thoughts. “Do you want me as much as I want you?” he asked her.

“I do not want you at all,” she snapped, knowing it was a lie and knowing that he knew it was a lie.

“I have never forced a woman, Rhonwyn,” he told her seriously. “I will not force you. You are my wife. Between us there will be respect and consideration until that time you wish us to enter into a true spousal state. We will, of course, share the bed in our chamber, for I am certain you do not wish the servants to know of our agreement. It would distress them to learn we were not doing all we could to make an heir for Ardley.”

“You don't want me?”
She was astounded.

“Nay, wife, as I have already said, I want you very much, but I will have no woman who does not want me,” Rafe replied.

“That is ridiculous!”

“Do you enjoy being forced, then?” he demanded, his look leering. He tipped her face up to his.

Pulling away, Rhonwyn cried, “Nay! But you are my husband, and you have certain rights whether I will or no. Edward certainly never hesitated to claim his prerogatives.”

“Edward was a fool who might have discovered the real reason for your fears had he not been so busy with his
claims
,” Rafe said bluntly. “Your caliph obviously took the time to learn what it was that frightened you, Rhonwyn. Will you tell me?”

“Rashid al Ahmet said that the mind was a dangerous thing,” Rhonwyn began. “He was patient and clever. Together we discovered that I hid a secret within the darkest recesses of my soul. Once, when I was a small girl and my brother barely out of infancy, a richly clad stranger came to our cottage and violated my mam. She never told ap Gruffydd and warned me not to, either. Glynn was too young to remember the incident. My mam told me I should never let a man do to me what the stranger had done to her. It somehow left the impression on my child's mind that I should not couple with a man. Once I was able to remember what had happened, my fears dissolved.”

“Ah,” Rafe said, and then he grinned at her. “And being fearless, wife, you went on to taste and experience all the pleasures of the flesh, did you not? I hope the caliph taught you well, for I am a man with a prodigious appetite for carnal delights.”

“But you will not force me,”
Rhonwyn taunted him. “You have said it yourself, my lord, that until I desire you, you will not have me.” Her fingers reached up and caressed his cheek, sliding down the curve of his visage and trailing across his lips.

He caught her hand and shoved her fingers into his mouth, sucking upon them vigorously, his eyes meeting hers in a silent challenge.

“You said you would not force me,” she quickly reminded him.

He licked her fingers dry and kissed the tips of the digits before releasing them. “I said, lady, that I should not force you. I did not say I should not tease you, fondle you, caress you, or kiss you.
I said I would not force you.
”

“Is what you have said not coercion?” she demanded. Her fingers were tingling.

“You are proud, Rhonwyn, and you are a poor liar. You lust for me every bit as much as I lust after you, but you refuse to admit to it.” Yanking her up, his arms closed about her. Their lips were dangerously close. “Tell me now that you do not want me!”

“I do not want you!”
she cried.

“Liar!” he mocked her, and then he kissed her lips. They trembled beneath his, soft and yielding despite her protest. “Tell me you do not want me,” he said once more.

“Bastard!”
she hissed at him fiercely.

“Say the words, Rhonwyn,”
he pressed her.

“But you don't believe me,” she half sobbed. Her heart was pounding wildly. Her legs felt like straw.

“Nay, wife, I don't. Edward was foisted upon you, as was your caliph. I am the first, the only man, whom you have ever truly desired with ever fiber of your being, Rhonwyn. Why do you deny so desperately what is so plain to me?” His mouth brushed hers again. “So proud. So fierce. So damnably sweet,” he crooned low to her. “Do not fight it, lovely, I beg of you!”

She struggled against his grip. “You claim I am proud,” she cried. “Your pride is far worse than mine, Rafe de Beaulie. Let me be! You have promised not to force me, and I will not have you! Can you not understand me?”

He kissed her brow. “You will come to me sooner than later, wife,” he told her as his grip loosened suddenly, and she almost fell.

Recovering, she stood facing him, her cheeks pink, her green eyes wide. “What makes you think I want you?” she demanded.

“I see it in your emerald eyes,” he told her. “You trembled in my arms, and I felt the little nipples of your breasts hardening against my chest. Your mouth was sweet and did not deny me, Rhonwyn.”

“I cannot remain here,” she said desperately. “You are a devil, Rafe de Beaulie! You confuse me with your wicked tongue!”

“Oh, my darling,” he said, laughing, “you haven't begun to know the impact of my wicked tongue upon you, but you soon will.”

She turned away from him. He was right, damn him! For the first time in her life she actually desired a man. She had almost desired Edward, and the caliph's passion had opened her eyes to the pleasures that could exist between a man and a woman, but she had never truly wanted a man as she wanted this one.
But it was wrong!
To give in to his wicked cajolery before they knew more about one another was not right. This was the man she would be married to until death. She wanted his respect, and if she was to have it, she must not yield to his taunts like some common whore of the streets. Drawing a deep breath, Rhonwyn turned herself about and looked directly at her husband.