Heartsong (11 page)

“You must take some nourishment,” Mildred urged when Rhianna pushed the cup away from her lips. After several sips, she suffered through the meal, acutely aware of deShay at her side.

When he finished his food, she sank down under the furs.

“How is it that you found me so quickly?” she asked.

“Warren, my steward, decided after Moirant rushed through the gate with you across his horse, that I would not like having my captive taken from my care. Warren told Lydon what had happened. He knew the nature of my errand so when he reached me, I turned my horse around and headed toward the forest. It was a simple matter to follow Moirant’s trail.”

He paused and Rhianna wondered if his narrative was finished. After he cleared his throat, he reached for her hand.

“I found him leaning over your still form.” His voice was velvet, soft. “His tale was that you had slid from his horse. He wanted me to believe you had gone with him willingly but I said nay. Still, he persisted. I did not believe him then and I do not now. What happened here, Rhianna?”

She frowned. The effort cost her, for her face still hurt. After she confessed the whole of Moirant’s words, she told him about Harold hitting her. She watched as his neck turned red.

“How many times did he hit you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“When did the vomiting start?” Garrett looked solemn.

Rhianna groaned, and told him about finding herself slung over the saddle.

“My stomach rebelled at such cruelty.”

“We routed him from his keep, but the coward ran. I think he has gone to Colvin. They are two of a kind. I will seek him out.”

“Nay. You must not. I want no bloodletting on my

behalf.” She attempted a smile, but her face ached.

“I would like to talk to...” she paused, wondering if she should name Arthur brother. Arthur must have admitted to a relationship, but should she confirm it? Nay, she would not.

“My companion,” she finished.

“He awaits only my word.”

She sighed. “Please now,” she said, stunned as the words slipped from her mouth. Politeness to her captor? Guilt nudged her and she excused the feeling. After all, Garrett had rescued her from what would have been an unbearable fate.

Again she paused. Garrett? When had she begun to think of him by his given name. Nay, he was her sworn enemy. His kind had destroyed her future, taken the life of her sire and kept her from her home and Lily. He was deShay, he was English, he could never be anything but her adversary.

“Then I will send for Arthur. I think you should rest until he arrives.”

The thought of rolling over into the soft mattress and drifting off to sleep was immensely inviting. Before she could decide on another action, her eyes closed and the decision was taken from her.

Arthur woke her.

“Nay, Brother, I will be fine,” she assured him when she saw the stricken look on his face.

“It is the brew Mildred gives me that makes me sleep so. But I’m awake now. We have much to discuss.”

She lowered her voice. “Tell me why you admitted to deShay you are my brother. How much more did you tell him? Wipe that sheepish look from your face and admit what you have done.”

She couldn’t keep the anger from her voice.

Arthur looked belligerent as well as guilty.

“I heard the commotion when this Harold Moirant raced through the gate with you. Then one of the servants shouted something about the witch being taken from the keep. I raced from the stable. I asked some of the servants watching the fleeing horse. It could only have been you that he took. So I ran back to the stable, grabbed a horse and rushed after you.”

“Did no one try to stop you?”

“Aye, they stopped me all right. I never got through the gate. They held me captive until deShay arrived. His own man had gone for him. I…I guess I just blurted it out.”

“How could you? You have now put us into more danger.” Rhianna struggled to rise.

“Nay, I do not think that is the case. You must not upset yourself over this. deShay was more than angry that you had been taken from him.”

“Aye, because now he knows he has a hostage for his king.” She sank against the pillows. Arthur had no idea what being held by the English king would do to what was left of their family, what Lily would think. She changed the subject.

“Tell me of your news. Have you heard anything of our brothers?”

“Nay.” Arthur grimaced. “Tell me you did not go willingly with that man. Some of the castle folk say that you talked him into taking you from this place. Rhianna, you did not, did you?”

“Oh, Arthur, how can you think I would do such a thing? Nay, he took me against my will. He had to beat me to do it. Now, do not mention anything about Harold Moirant or what happened to me. Tell me what you are about.”

Arthur paused for a time. “I work in the stable and am accepted. It’s not much different from home. You worry over much. deShay still sees us only as servants. He knows we are brother and sister now, but he believes we were in service to our father, me in the stable, you in the building itself.”

He left the edge of the bed where he had been sitting. “Try to get well.”

Arthur left and Rhianna rested in her bed, her mind in turmoil. How could everything have gotten so out of control? Nay, it could not be. Arthur had to think deShay different from other Englishmen. What would it take for him to realize he was wrong. deShay was English!

It almost sounded as if Arthur enjoyed the work in the stable. He could not be content to stay here, could he? Nay, they must go home.

Frustration claimed her. He had to want to go home, to go back to Wales. They both had to go back to Wales, for these English were enemies.

That night she struggled out of her bed and made her way to a chair. She felt much better with the movement. But she tired easily. When at last she crawled back under the furs, she was ready for sleep.

Her sleep was not peaceful, not restful and not healing. She found herself standing in a field of blood. The twisted body of her father and her three oldest brothers lay sprawled in the carnage. Lily cried out for her, but Rhianna could not find her among the dead and dying.

The scene changed and Garrett and Arthur stood on the sidelines cheering the English as they marched into battle. Harold Moirant entered the dream. The battle scene disappeared. Harold grabbed her, ripping the clothes from her body, pounding on her with his fists. She tossed and turned, trying to get away from him, but some invisible force held her confined.

In her dream, while she struggled against the bonds holding her, Arthur approached.

“You created this situation. It’s your desire to go back to Wales.”

She shouted at him. “Help me!”

He turned his back and walked away. She screamed in anger, jerking and twisting, but she could do nothing to free herself.

Another voice intervened. The arms holding her became real. She opened her eyes and looked up into the tense face of Garrett deShay.

“You were having a bad dream.” He brushed at the wetness on her cheeks. “Take a deep breath. Aye, now another. ‘Twas only a dream. Come, take another breath.”

When he released her, Rhianna shuddered with her lingering shock. She could still see the face of Harold Moirant.

~ * ~

Her days marched past. Slowly she recovered, taking up more sewing to occupy her thoughts. She fought the intense feelings Garrett deShay caused in her for he insisted she share all her meals with him.

During the meals, he asked about Wales, her life at the keep in Brynn Ffrydd and the difference between it and Knockin. He asked if she hunted with her brother, about horses in the keep, even asking what skills were required of her.

She tried to change the subject every time he wanted to discuss life at Brynn Ffrydd. Still, sharing knowledge of her countryside thrilled her.

While they talked, she found herself asking about England, about his life in the service to King Edward. She relaxed a bit, telling herself something in his attitude toward her had changed. Daily, she found she had to remind herself that she had duties waiting for her at home. She had to leave this place. Her thoughts made her sad and she refused to think about why that was.

Arthur came to the castle twice and both times Rhianna spent an hour with him, however always under the watchful eye of Garrett or Lydon Tomlaine.

August faded away and September brought chilly weather. Rhianna marveled at the heat created by the blazes in the hearths. At Brynn Ffrydd they had a large fire pit with a hole in the ceiling. When winter arrived, the keep was always smoky and the pit never produced the heat made by these fire holes built in the wall.

Rhianna still spent hours with a needle in her hands. While she sewed she tried to understand why she was almost happy. Guilt plagued her for she knew she ought to be planning her escape. Instead she found one reason after another to avoid making decisions.

She thought about the kiss Garrett had forced on her long ago and more waves of shame rushed through her. Still she wanted another of his kisses, yet such thoughts were a betrayal of all she knew. To her own disgust, she even postponed talking to Arthur about leaving Knockin.

As a distraction, she threw herself into more sewing. She began making garments for the men and the number of garments she made increased. Lydon sported another new tunic, Joseph D’Arcy had a brilliant blue gown and Garrett boasted two kirtles and a surcoat trimmed with bands of deep silver and gold embroidery.

Since Garrett could not know of her skill with a needle, she insisted Mildred take credit for the garments. Rhianna knew her accomplishments would make Garrett question her status at Brynn Ffrydd. He’d know she was not the servant he thought. Arthur assured her on more than one occasion that Garrett thought of her as just that.

By the end of September, Arthur was coming to the hall three times a week, and she often sat with him before the hearth. She refused to admit to him that she found Garrett’s company pleasant.

“You like the Lord a bit more than before, is that not so?” Arthur asked one afternoon as they sat together. She felt her face warm. Arthur must have caught her watching the lord move around his hall.

“Nay, how can you say such a thing?” She knew she had to deny it. “He saw our father slain, carried us from our home. His own countrymen took the life of Dafydd. Now, we are little more than his slaves.” Mortification spread through her and with it a panic she hadn’t known for days. They had to talk about escape.

Rhianna watched and when she saw Garrett ignoring them, she began to speak in Welsh.

“We must leave this place. I’m convinced our brothers think we have been killed. We have to make plans to go home.”

She glanced in Garrett’s direction but he was nowhere near the place he had been. Nay, he stood behind her and had heard every word she spoke.

“Wench, I warned you once, but it appears you have forgotten. If you want to speak your own tongue these visits will stop this day. Now, speak my language.”

Rhianna glared at him. How had he moved so quickly across the hall within her hearing but without making a sound?

For a few minutes more, she and Arthur talked, but once more Garrett was at her side.

“Time for you to return to the stable, lad. You said your sister rides well?”

Arthur glanced at her and then Garrett. As he nodded his head, Rhianna wished the action would cause him pain.

“Nay, not well.” Rhianna could not let deShay think she was a skilled horsewoman for the same reason he must never know the fine stitches came from her hand. Both would mark her a lady. He could never know for certain.

“It matter’s not. You will ride today.” Garrett’s comment brought Rhianna’s head spinning toward him.

“Saddle my horse,” Garrett told Arthur. “And have Lewis saddle the chestnut palfrey. Mayhap, your sister will ride with me. Go, prepare the horses.”

Rhianna’s heart throbbed with delight, but she could not admit her pleasure. Nor could she allow Garrett to watch her ride. She glared at him.

“Nay, I must return to my chamber. I am weary.” She turned toward the stone stairs.

“Wench, best you know today is the last day you will see your brother for a time.”

“Because I will not ride with you? Nay, you are too cruel.”

Garrett’s face took on a look of complete frustration.

“You think me so unkind. Nay, your brother has my business to perform. He will not have time to visit after this day. However, I think a trip outside these walls is just what you need. If you promise to avoid any repeat of your thoughtless shouts to escape, I’ll even allow your brother to ride with us.”

“Then I will ride, for I must continue to see my brother.”

Oh, St. Dafydd, how much she would enjoy an afternoon away from the keep. Yet more humiliation speared her, for she shouldn’t want to enjoy anything deShay could provide with Lily and her other brothers knowing nothing about what might have happened to her and Arthur.

Still, if she left the castle, she would have a better idea of the lay of the land. That could only aid in her attempt to leave this place. She ignored the twinge of pain at the thought. Staying was not a choice. She had to escape Knockin and Garrett deShay as soon as proper plans could be made.

~ * ~

Rhianna followed the men from the keep, deShay in the lead. They made their way to the stable where a group of horses stood saddled and waiting. She bit her lip to keep her cry of delight behind her teeth. Arthur sat atop a pony, chosen Rhianna was certain, because speed would be beyond the beast’s ability. It made no difference. She could not run today. Nay, there were preparations to be made and Arthur had to be included in those plans. Then, they would go. She swallowed against a sudden pang of discomfort.