Heartsong (9 page)

She gave up any attempts at her meal to concentrate on the Lord of Knockin. Mayhap she could learn something

about him that would explain her reaction to him.

He was so different from other men she’d met. She fought to take a deep breath. For one thing, deShay had a masculine scent about him, much different from the men at home. He smelled only of leather and man, not the rank smell of smoke, sweat and horses that even her brothers wore.

Although his clothing was plain, it appeared clean. The cloth of his tunic was well woven, of quality but without the decorations worn by the nobility of her country. Aye, deShay was different from the men of her acquaintance. Was that why he affected her breathing and her heartbeat?

With the meal finished, Rhianna excused herself and rushed from the hall. She would never understand why deShay’s presence bothered her so, and she intended to stay far away from him until she could find Arthur and make plans to leave.

For the rest of the day, she mended the garments Mildred had brought that morning. While she sewed, she fought the image of deShay who practiced below her window slits. She struggled to chase his face from her mind.

Mildred stayed with her all day and Rhianna guessed the maid was her keeper, her guard. The thought that deShay would come to her tonight kept her nauseous. Again her stitches looked like those of a beginner, but what did she care, she asked herself. She had no pride in this work.

When the lord of Knockin insisted on her presence for the evening meal, she found eating no easier than trying to break her fast had been. Although he chose to ignore her, the conversation swirling around her produced a tension so great her stomach roiled.

She listened to the comments and teasing from the gathered knights, the ribald shouts from the soldiers, and her alarm intensified. It was clear they knew his intentions to come to her this night. Nay, he would not take her. She would fight to the death before she let him bed her.

The color drained from her face. She wanted to run.

~ * ~

Garrett felt her tension. He heard the comments and when all the color drained from her face, he guessed at her thoughts. His plan to treat her as a guest had only begun this day. He dragged a raw breath into his tight lungs and cursed at his need.

When he’d taken her arm to guide her to the table, his body had reacted to her nearness. He gritted his teeth, remembering that when they slept together, it would be by mutual need.

“Come, let me escort you to your chambers,” he said, at the end of their meal. He took her hand and pulled her from the chair. “You look as if you need the rest.”

~ * ~

Rhianna tried to ignore the rush of anguish surging through her. She tried to get away from him then stumbled in her haste. He reached out, grabbed her elbow and pulled her to him, forcing her to walk at his side as they climbed the stairs.

Her heart thundered. Could he hear the pounding? She shook with an apprehension so great she knew if he had not supported her she would have crumpled on the stairs.

Finally, they neared her chamber and she reached out and grabbed the latch. She intended to get inside and close the door between them before he could make a move. He was too quick for her. In less than the blink of an eye, he had his arms around her.

“I’ll bid you good night, now,” he whispered against her hair. “Sleep well.”

Everything in Rhianna relaxed. She sagged against him. He was going to leave her in peace this night. She felt his chuckle deep in the pit of her stomach, then lifted her head to gaze into his face.

It was a mistake.

His lips met hers. Warmth flooded through her, followed by a sense of security. He took immediate advantage, sinking into the heat of her mouth.

Shock reverberated through her. Pleasure sped through her veins, a feeling so intense she thought to drown in it. For a fraction of a moment she wondered what magic he possessed. Then euphoria made more thought impossible.

When he released her, she knew her legs could no longer support her. She leaned into him. Then she lifted her gaze and the satisfied grin on his face produced a wealth of guilt.
Blessed Virgin, why did he have to look so pleased?

He turned and Rhianna didn’t hesitate. She yanked the door open and rushed into the chamber she claimed as her own. More humiliation descended as she realized what a traitor she was to her father, the man she had planned to wed, to her brothers. Why, after his lips touched hers, she hadn’t given Lily one thought.

She gradually realized Mildred stood before the bed, awaiting her.

“A warm bath, my Lady?” In the corner of the room, a wooden tub stood surrounded by several jars of steaming water.

Rhianna sank on the bed then nodded gratefully. A bath was exactly what she needed. Perhaps the warm water would wash away some of her humiliation.

After she finished bathing and had dried herself off, she crawled beneath the linens. Only the fact she had paced away half of the previous night allowed Rhianna the sleep she needed this night.

The next morning followed the same pattern of the previous day. deShay met her at the bottom of the stairs, then escorted her to his table. She fought his warmth and the streaks of fire that streamed up and down her arm at his touch.

Sitting next to him, she again couldn’t help but study his pleasing features, the thick, dark bronze curls on his head, the smooth skin of his square face, the neat trim of his bread. She caught herself wondering how those curls would feel if she reached out and ran her fingers through them.

Oh, Blessed Virgin, what is wrong with me? He is English! Aye, but a handsome enemy
, a corner of her brain sneered
. Lily, think of Lily, your father, your betrothed.

By the end of the week, Rhianna had finished most of the mending Mildred provided and had a hunger growing under her heart. True, when she sat at deShay’s side, she ate little. But, she hungered, nay, she ached for more from him. She wanted more of his touch. Despite the shame admitting it caused, she ached for another kiss.

With the passage of each day, she grew more disgusted, lecturing herself constantly. Despite repeating she was nothing but a traitor to her own kind, she wanted, nay, she yearned for the touch of the one man in all the world

whose blood should stain the soil beneath her feet.

~ * ~

Garrett watched Rhianna and his own confusion grew along with the ache in his body. At first her skill with a needle was pathetic. He smiled in satisfaction. She was not the lady Lydon had named. However, her manners befitted someone of noble birth.

She’d lost half a stone since he’d captured her. He suspected her fear of him and what she thought he planned for her affected her ability to eat. She consumed little while at his side and Mildred reported she picked at her nooning trays.

She confounded his thoughts enough so that he took time to seek out her companion and ask about her. Arthur swore she’d never warmed another man’s bed. The boy’s concern haunted Garrett. Could they be related? Arthur refused to say and Garrett was not want to push the lad.

“Damn,” he growled, remembering the erotic dreams he’d suffered during the night. He wanted her writhing under him, sighing with her pleasure the way she did in his dreams. Now, however, she jumped away from him at the simplest of touch.

He cursed his feelings. This foreign wench occupied too much of his mind with her rich peach complexion and those deep blue eyes stirring his soul. He wanted her, aye, he ached for her but he would not force her. That thought drove him senseless. He didn’t understand, nor could he explain it, but for some reason, he wanted her willing.

The soft voice of Mildred drew him from his bewildering thoughts.

“My Lord,” she curtsied before him, “Rhianna of Wales is doing poorly. Do you say to watch her still?”

“Aye,” Garrett said and grimaced.

When she opened her mouth to argue, Garrett raised a hand.

“Nay, do not disagree. She must have a guard and I would rather it be you. Lydon chose well. I’ve given this much thought. You must tell her I’ve lost interest in her. Tell her about my beckoning to one of the castle maids. Then, we’ll see if that news does not improve her appetite.”

“You want me to lie?”

Garrett scowled at the question.

“Surely others in the castle will not say the same,” Mildred reminded him.

He frowned, knowing she had the right of it. Nor was she finished.

“My lord, don’t you have some campaign that would take you from here for a time? If you leave, then mayhap, she will relax.”

He sighed. First her sister, Edina, and now Mildred stood before him offering advice. In all of England none said as much as these. Still, he did value the opinions of his people and the men and women in his care. He had always encouraged them to have their say, whether he liked what they said or not.

“All right Mildred,” he said then sighed. “Tell her that I’m off to guard the northern climes. And, I’ll be gone for days—nay, a week. See if that brings some peace to the wench.”

He watched Mildred’s gray gown swish around her ankles as she hurried away.

“My Lord, surely you are not serious?”

Garrett turned in surprise. Lydon stood at his elbow.

“I share your astonishment. But, truth be known, I need to leave this place.”

“But, my Lord, never have you left Knockin with a captive inside these walls and certainly not one from Wales.”

Garrett gazed at Lydon.

“I know. But I am tired of the sadness in her deep blue eyes. I don’t want to look on those curls of golden-brown. Better I should leave than suffer more with her presence.”

Lydon shook his head. His expression of sympathy was almost more than Garrett could stand.

“Come, I’m ready for some serious training.” Garrett slammed from the hall, his words echoing from the timbers.

“Men,” he shouted when he reached the training field. “On the morrow, we leave. We will scout the woods to the north. The villagers need meat and the weather should be good. Our hunting should be successful.”

He vowed not to return to Knockin until the face of the Welsh wench was gone from his mind.

~ * ~

For five days Knockin was an almost pleasant place to be. Rhianna relaxed, filled her empty stomach and sewed to her heart’s content, Mildred her constant companion. But on the afternoon of the sixth day, an uproar in the bailey announced the master’s return.

Rhianna rushed from the chamber she considered hers and stood watching him in his courtyard. He stood tall, golden-brown, his undecorated garments flowing around him while he directed the distributing of meat to the men and their families. She tried to ignore the shaming sensations that pierced her soul. Admitting that she was glad, nay, more like delighted with his return sent a rush of guilt racing through her. How could it be?

When he gazed in her direction, she wrenched herself from her thoughts and fled. She scurried up to her chamber, terrified he would throw open her door and compel her to accept him. It was what she dreaded most.

But, would he have to force her all that much? She refused to answer that question.

A short time later, Mildred arrived.

“Our Lord insists that you come to the hall. Please, my Lady, if you do not come freely, he says that he will come and carry you down.”

She had no choice, she told herself, descending the stairs.

~ * ~

For two more days Garrett fought his need for Rhianna. He found himself barking at his men, ordering Warren, his seneschal, to give an accounting when the poor man had done so only weeks after their return from Wales. He groaned, remembering his conversation with Joseph D’Arcy that morning.

“My Lord, bed the wench or let us take her back to her cave. Your actions are causing too much concern among your people. They are convinced she has bewitched you. Her safety is now at stake. Let us take her back.”

“Nay,” Garrett murmured. “I cannot allow that. She could be a relative of Alvin Brynn Ffrydd. If that is so, then our King might want her for a hostage.”

“Not if your people declare her a witch. King Edward is

also superstitious. Let us take her back. She will only make trouble for you.”

Garrett frowned. “Have you and Lydon been discussing the wench?”

“Aye, but only for your sake. We fear for you. Your people do not understand what she has done to you. Nor do we.”

“Lust,” Garrett growled his answer. “I want her, but I do not dare take her, if she is what Lydon suspects.”

“Then you best stay away from her until you are certain about her. What of the boy? Cannot he say more about her? Surely he knows who she is.”

“Ah,” Garrett said and sighed. “He knows. He will not say.”

“There are ways...” Joseph’s voice trailed off.

Garrett knew the look on his face condemned that thought out of hand.

“I will leave the keep. Tell the men to gather in the bailey. We will inspect the northern forests today. Edward wants a report on any activity in our area. That will see me away from here and the temptation of that wench.”

~ * ~

Rhianna watched deShay gather his men in the bailey.

“They go to check the northern forests,” Mildred said from her position beside Rhianna. “They will be gone all day. Thank the good Lord.”

Rhianna looked at her a question upon her lips.

Mildred responded without hesitation.

“Edina says everyone is sick of being criticized and scolded like children. Warren, my Lord’s seneschal, told Lydon he just might seek another position if he was called down again for something he’d already done.” Mildred giggled then continued, “Sir Lydon told Edina my Lord was frustrated.”