By Possession (44 page)

“Aye, you lived as a serf, Moira, with all that means. But I lived as a slave. My degree was even lower than yours.”

“That was an accident. A mistake.”

“All of our births are accidents, and yours a mistake. I know we are taught it is ordained by God, but I do not believe it. Of all of the beliefs and customs that I have questioned since I returned, this one I know is wrong and I'll not be bound by it. It seems to me if an anointed king can be set aside, a serf-born woman can marry a baron's son. As rebellions against God's lawful order go, ours will be a small one.”

She did not know how to answer him. The offer at the church door had been a rash impulse, but this had been contemplated and planned. The idea was too preposterous. Surely he saw that.

He frowned. “Are you thinking that you could not bear it, Moira? If we are mocked, or there is disapproval? Women can be hard on each other, I know, and it may be worse for you than for me. If you do not think you can live in my life, I can always live in yours. I can give Barrowburgh back to the king and become an innkeeper with you.”

Dear God, he was serious. “Nay. Oh, Addis, you are speaking more madness. Think. Your sons will have serfs for a mother and grandmother. What of them?”

“They will have a mother whom they will cherish as I do, and want to protect. A woman loved by her husband, and a grandmother who was beloved by her lord.”

His insistence was exhausting her spirit and making her lose hold of the solid truths of her own argument. Her emotions scrambled, and his accepting, loving gaze undid her. She shook her head with a final, vague denial before sinking into his arms.

He held her against his chest with her head tucked under his chin, gently caressing her back. “You will come back with me and bring life to those shadows and warmth
to my heart as you always have, Moira. And I will learn to give to you as you have always given to me.”

“I would only bring you trouble and shame. You are just too stubborn and willful to see it. There are some things that the Lord of Barrowburgh cannot order to his liking,” she muttered, hiding her brimming eyes in his cotte. He could not know how much he tortured her with this hopeless dream. He made it sound so possible, so real, but the blood that coursed in her body had been taught by centuries that it could never be so. He would see that soon enough, and be grateful she had not agreed. But, oh, the thought of it, hanging there right out of reach, tempting her to a ridiculous excitement that truth and good sense could barely suppress.…

He tilted her face to his, and thumbed a tear off her cheek. “Are you refusing me, Moira?”

Her throat burned and her lips trembled. He looked so sad as he read the decision in her eyes.

“Then I ask a final gift before we part. I want you to sing for me. One of the love songs, as you did at the dinner. I would have the song be about you and me, so that I think of you whenever I hear it again.”

“Nay, Addis. Please …”

“Would you refuse me this too? This final memory? It is a small thing.”

It wasn't a small thing. It would shred her to pieces and she might never be whole again.

She sniffed and licked her lips and rested her cheek against his chest. Only his heartbeat would accompany her. She found a spot of tenuous composure and clung to it and somehow, miraculously, the melody and words whispered forth.

Her voice could fill a hall, but now it only traveled the short distance to his ears. His lips pressed the top of her
head and stayed there. The song both anguished and exalted her, and his embrace supported a body that knew no strength. Images flew behind her blurring eyes as old memories loomed sharply in the heavy mood of the song. A youth mourning in her arms. A knight screaming in pain. A fiery-eyed man stripped of illusions and will.

Her voice faltered several times before the end. The final words were lost in a sob that she buried in his chest. He held her to his breast while she cried out her heart, and rubbed his cheek against her hair as a father might comfort a child.

His own voice came low and rough with emotion. “Do you wonder why I will not live without you? Your love and loyalty sustained and comforted me in ways I did not even know. Even in slavery, I think it was you my spirit sought when I looked up into the stars. You have been my best ally for years, aiding me even in death when you cared for the boy, protecting me that dark night when I lost the will to protect myself.”

She huddled in the soothing sanctuary of his arms, and struggled to contain the flood that the song had unleashed. “When did you remember?”

“My heart knew as soon as I saw you again. The memories came slowly, in bits and pieces. They began taking form once I had Barrowburgh again. But I had begun to understand where I had to look for them before that.”

She felt so close to him that she thought her very essence had merged into his. She found a blissful serenity there, and a loving warmth that stroked her churning emotions like a reassuring caress.

“Look at me, Moira.”

She pulled back until she could see the scarred face, and the perfect other half.

“We belong together. You will come back with me and we will wed and the rest of the world can go to hell if they
do not like it. And when our children come I will tell them the story of the bondwoman who loved from the shadows and expected nothing in return.”

He was not really asking her to agree. It is how it must be, his expression said. And he was right. Rejecting what they shared would be a type of sin.

A streak of sorrow split the euphoria spilling through her. Her gaze drifted to the far wall that abutted the abbey. He turned her face back and kissed her. “Brian will come with us. It will not be Simon's blood that forms the man he becomes, but your love. He is not my son and I will not have him displace our own children though. He must be told the truth of it, but I will accept him like my own blood. He may decide later that he is suited to the abbey and choose to return here, but if not I will give him the Baltic manor that is mine.”

She almost wept again. “That is not easy generosity, Addis. And I love you all the more for it.”

“He is an innocent, and I cannot remain cold to anyone you love.” He rose. “We will go and get him now, if you want. But I hope there is a spare pallet in this house for him. I do not want to have him in our bed tonight.”

“I think we can find a spot in another chamber for him.” She would make sure that they did. A very special loving awaited them when night fell.

He looked down at her with such naked love that she thought she might fly to the heavens.

“Then let us speak with the friars. But first we will stop at the church door.” He held out his hand to her. “Come and say the words with me, Moira. Be mine forever.”

She looked at that gesture beckoning her to their impossible future. Only the greatest love and loyalty would survive what awaited them. Her serf 's soul knew that even if none of his souls did.

She placed her hand completely in his.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MADELINE HUNTER has worked as a grocery clerk, office employee, art dealer, and freelance writer. She holds a Ph.D. in art history, which she currently teaches at an eastern university. She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, her two teenage sons, a chubby, adorable mutt, and a black cat with a major attitude. She can be contacted through her web site,
www.MadelineHunter.com
, where readers can also find more information regarding the historical events and characters used in this novel.

Lose yourself in tales of charm and passion
with Madeline Hunter's upcoming quartet of
historical romances set during the Regency era.

THE SEDUCER

ON SALE OCTOBER 2003

THE SAINT

ON SALE NOVEMBER 2003

THE CHARMER

ON SALE DECEMBER 2003

and

THE SINNER

ON SALE JANUARY 2004

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THE SEDUCER …