Spectre of the Sword (19 page)

Elizabeau finally looked
at the old man, trying to figure out why he was suddenly solicitous.  For days
he had hardly said a word to her.

“She is,” she replied.

“I imagine she is a
beauty such as you.”

Elizabeau shrugged,
turning back to the chomping goats. “My mother and I have had little to do with
each other since I was born. She attends her charities and her entertainments
and gathers with friends, but has never had much time for her only child.”

Rhett lowered his bulk
down onto the edge of a wall that was half-demolished; Renard had intended to
extend it last spring and had even knocked down several stones, but that was as
far as it went. Now it was about hip-high and perfect for sitting.

“Did you go away to
foster, then?”

“At Framlingham Castle
in Norfolk.”

“I see,” the old man
replied. “I have visited Framlingham on a few occasions.  A long time ago, mind
you, but….”

She suddenly bolted to
her feet, moving around him and heading for the front of the manse.

“If you will excuse me,
my lord.”

Rhett hardly had time to
answer as she practically ran from him.  He pursed his lips with regret,
knowing she was affected by the same thing that was affecting Rhys.  It was a
truly despondent situation for the both of them.  But he let her go without
further word, hoping to speak with her at some later time.  She was a young
woman with a massive burden to bear; the situation with Rhys was only making it
more difficult.

Elizabeau didn’t know
why she was in tears by the time she rounded the northwest corner of the manse
and headed into the courtyard.  The old man hadn’t said anything offensive or
sad.  But she did not feel like talking and it was as if every word out of her
mouth somehow caused her more pain.  She knew Rhys was seated over by the shed
that housed some of the farming implements they used around the estate; she had
seen him earlier, sitting there in the sun and working intently on some piece
of armor. Now as she moved into the courtyard, she didn’t even bother to look
over and see if he was still there. She didn’t want to know.

Elizabeau wasn’t sure
where she was going; only that she had to walk and clear her head.   She was
somewhere over near the barn where a path led off into the vegetable fields. 
She thought it might be a good idea to walk in the fields where no one would
bother her with idle chatter. She no sooner put her foot on the path than Carys
was suddenly beside her.

“A beautiful day, is it
not?” the young girl greeted, squinting up into the sky. “Where are you going?”

Elizabeau didn’t want
the girl to see the tears in her eyes and she very quickly, and not so
discreetly, wiped them away. “I… I was simply walking. It is too beautiful a
day to sit about.”

Carys looped her arm
through Elizabeau’s companionably. “I agree,” she said happily. “I was going to
gather some vegetables for Mother, but I think I will walk with you instead.”

“Nay, you mustn’t,”
Elizabeau saw the look of disappointment on the girl’s face and hastened to
clarify her statement. “What I mean is that you must not anger your mother.
Surely she wants her vegetables now rather than later.”

Carys made a face to
imply that she did not care what her mother wanted. “She shall have them soon
enough. Shall I show you where a family of rabbits burrow? They just had
babies.”

Elizabeau didn’t want to
see any rabbits. She just wanted to be alone. Couldn’t anyone in this family
leave her alone?

“Carys,” she came to a
halt and faced her, struggling to be pleasant. “Although I would greatly love
your company at any other time, would… would you please allow me to walk on my
own for a while? I… I am not feeling well and would very much appreciate it if
you could leave me to my own thoughts for now.”

Carys wasn’t offended
but she was puzzled. “Where are you going to go?”

Elizabeau forced a smile
and patted the girl on the cheek. “Just… around. I will not go far, I promise.”

She was already walking
away, leaving Carys standing there, puzzled.  “Very well,” the girl watched her
walk away, a bit morosely.  “But hurry back. Mother will not be happy if you
are late for the meal!”

Elizabeau waved to her
to let her know she heard her.  She was walking quickly, blindly, wanting away
from Carys and Rhett and Rhys.  She wore the light blue Perse surcoat this day,
hating the garment, knowing with every step that it reminded her of Rhys.
Everything around her reminded her of Rhys.

Every step she took
began to build anxiety in her chest.  She could feel all of the anguish and
disappointment surfacing and she felt the extreme urge to run, run far away and
as fast as she could until she could be free of this agony that was consuming
her.  Fifteen days ago, men had come to her mother’s house in London to inform
her that her brother Arthur had been assassinated and she was now heiress. 
She’d had no choice; they’d simply whisked her away to Hyde House to await
escort to her new husband and, presumably, a new life as ruler of England.  
But her escort, a massive knight with brilliant blue eyes, had somehow become
more than just an escort.  They had been thrown together in a critical
situation and when the dust had settled somewhat, she was in love with him and
he with her.  She had never wanted the blessing of a throne in the first
place.  Those men, de Burgh and de Lohr, had made her take it.  They were still
making her take it.  And their ambition had conveniently caged Rhys up and
turned his sweet heart into something professional and unfeeling.

I will not marry you.

She could still hear
those words in her head.  Hearing them over and over again made the tears come
to her eyes.  Hours before, he had told her he loved her. But de Lohr came and
ruined all of that.  She hated de Lohr and she hated Rhys for being too weak to
stand behind his convictions. 

She didn’t want any of
it now. She would not let Rhys force her into a marriage with a stranger.  She
wanted to return to London and resume her quiet life and let the world go on
around her.   She wanted to bury her head in the ground and ignore everything.
She didn’t want to feel any longer.

Elizabeau’s tears
blinded her to the path she had taken.  She had moved beyond the vegetable
garden and was plowing through some trees.  It was very green around her, the
foliage lush with the November moisture and a chill heavy in the air.  But she
didn’t particularly notice.  She was weeping heavily now, oblivious to her
surroundings.  

There was a wall in
front of her, created from stone and mossy with growth.   Sobbing, she vaulted
over it and kept walking, having no idea where she was going but only knowing
that she had to get away.   Cows were suddenly around her, black and white
things that continued munching on grass even as she walked through them. They
hardly gave her any notice. A young calf watched her approach and skittered
away to its mother when she came too close. Still, Elizabeau kept walking.  She
was willing to walk forever if it would only clear Rhys du Bois out of her
raging mind.

A river lay before her
at the edge of the field, a slender ribbon of greenish blue that glittered
under the November sun.   She headed towards it, her crying increasing, and
suddenly she was running towards it at full speed.  The river.  Mayhap she
could drown herself and be done with the pain.  Or perhaps she could swim
across it and continue in to England, walking and walking until she could walk
no more. At the moment, her mind was as muddled as her heart.  She no longer
cared what happened to her, so long as she could find relief from the anguish
that consumed her.

The river drew closer,
beckoning her into the deep bluish waters.  Behind her, she heard the cows as
they began to moo loudly. Some of them yelped as if startled. Suddenly she
heard footfalls to match her own, confusing her for the moment, but she kept
running with the sole focus of reaching the calm waters beyond. But the
footfalls bore down directly behind her and she was hit from behind, crashing
her down to the soft green earth.  A massive body was atop her, enormously warm
arms going about her slender body.  She knew who it was before she even saw the
face. She could hear Rhys in her ear.

“Where are you going?”
he hissed.

Elizabeau exploded. “For
the love of God, let me go,” she began to twist underneath him, clawing at the
earth as she tried to get out from underneath him. “Leave me to my misery, du
Bois.  Let me go or I swear I will kill you.”

Rhys held on tightly,
his face buried in her neck as he held on tight.  It was like trying to wrestle
a wild horse; he knew he had to ride out the storm.  If he lost his grip on
her, it would be worse the second time he caught her.

“Calm yourself, angel,”
he murmured, taking a righteous pounding to the right side of his head and
neck. “All will be well, I swear it.”

“Nay!” she screamed,
twisting violently in his arms. “I hate you; do you hear me? I hate you! Let me
go!”

She had managed to box
his right ear quite soundly; the drum was ringing with the shock.  He tucked
his head in and shifted his grip, trying to move away from her flailing arms.

“Elizabeau,” he was
calm, trying to break through her haze of fury. “I will not let you go, not
now, not ever.  I am sorry you are so hurt. I never meant to hurt you. You must
believe me.”

He sounded very soothing
and it disarmed her. The tears began to overtake the fury and her flailing
lessened.  She wept loudly, still trying to claw away from him.

“Let me go,” she wept
pitifully. “I order you to let me go, du Bois. I order you away from me. You
must listen to me, do you hear? I am ordering you to leave me be.”

He sat up, taking her
with him.  She was on his lap, struggling weakly as he buried his face in the
back of her head.   When she realized that he was not going to release her, she
simply sat there and cried.

Cascades of luscious
golden-red hair covered his head and face.  He inhaled her scent deeply,
realizing how very much he had missed it.  He’d done a good job at pretending
he could recover from all of this.  He’d convinced himself that he’d done an
admirable job of it.  When she’d walked away from Whitebrook, he followed her
with the intention of simply watching out for her.  But the moment he saw her
running for the river, all of his strength fled.   He knew she was shattered;
he was shattered, too. But she had the added pressure of an entire kingdom
bearing down on her.   Perhaps it had just been too much to take. The thought
of her floating in the river turned his heart, his mind, his body to ice.  It
would have killed him, too.

“I’m so sorry,” he
murmured into the back of her head. “Please forgive me, Elizabeau. Please
forgive me for causing you such anguish.”

She was weeping so
loudly that she barely heard him. She felt his face against her head and in one
last, desperate move to be free, she slammed her head back and butted him
squarely in the nose.  Momentarily startled from the shock and pain, he
loosened his grip and she propelled herself forward.  But he still had hold of
her and he threw himself on top of her as she struggled to crawl away. 

Pressed in to the soft
green grass by the weight of his body, Elizabeau lay there and wept. Rhys was
still seeing stars, dripping deep red blood onto the back of her hair.  He
wiped it away as quickly as it flowed, trying not to dirty her any more than he
already was. But he couldn’t risk letting go of her at this point. He wrapped
his big arms around her, trapping her with his massive body as she laid there
and heaved.

“I lied to you,” his
lips were next to her ear, blood from his nose running onto the grass. “I did
not mean it when I said that we would recover from this momentary madness.  I
will never recover from it.  But knowing that does not make it any easier for
you.  It does not erase what you must do.”

He wasn’t sure she had
heard him; she just laid there, her face pressed into the grass as she cried
more deeply than he had ever heard anyone cry.  It tore his heart out.

He kissed her ear,
getting blood on it.  “Please do not despair,” he murmured, kissing her again.
“I will love you until I die. But you must marry your prince.  I thought if I
made you hate me, it would make it easier for you to do your duty.  I see that
I was horribly wrong and I must beg your forgiveness.”

She still did not react,
her soft weeping filling the air.  After a moment, and very slowly, a hand came
up from the grass and moved to Rhys’ wrist, moving down his hand until she
found his fingers.   Then her head lifted and she brought the fingers to her
lips, kissing them with more tenderness than he had never known to exist.  It
was painful, exhilarating, agonizing.  He began to kiss the side of her head,
her ear, her head, tasting her sweetness, all of his restraint leaving him.

“I’m so sorry,” he
murmured again, flipping her over on to her back as his enormous body smothered
her.  His lips were on her eyes, her forehead, her cheeks. “I did not mean to
upset you so.  I thought I was doing what was best for both of us.”

His bloody nose was
smearing on her cheek but she hardly cared.  Elizabeau’s weeping continued, but
now for a different reason.  Her arms went around his neck so tightly that she
threatened to strangle him.