Terri Brisbin (8 page)

She might give up her claim to sanctuary if she understood.

Joanna turned now and ran to the keep, up the stairs that led to the great hall. Following the clamor, she found what she was looking for. Lady Margaret and Wenda were at his side, washing the blood and repairing some damage. Most stood back a bit watching the women work, so she had no difficulty reaching his side.

“How can I help, my lady?” she asked.

“Joanna, what are you doing here?” the lady asked. Pointing something out to Wenda, Margaret met her gaze. “You should not be here.”

“I had to find out if Braden lived. What happened?”

“He took a deep slash in his side,” Wenda said as she probed the wounds. “At least two ribs are broken and this will take cauterizing to stop the bleeding.”

“Why is he not awake?”

“He hit his head on a rock as he fell, my lady,” the knight called Royce said.

“Will he…die?”

“If he wakes soon, I think he will recover,” Wenda said. “He is strong, with a reason to heal.”

Joanna knew the old woman spoke of her.

Then, with a loud groan, Braden opened his eyes. At first his focus moved from person to person and then it settled on her. She smiled at him, pleased that he was not seriously hurt.

“Joanna,” he whispered.

He held out his hand to her and she took it. Moving closer
so she could hear his words over the work of those who cared for him, she leaned down. “How do you fare?”

“You are mine.”

He’d said that several times before, but there was a strangeness to it now. His grasp tightened. Joanna tried to retreat and found his hold was like an iron cage on her hand. She looked at him and noticed that his eyes were clear, as was his intent. His words merely confirmed it.

“Miles. Take her until I can see to her. In my chambers, tied if need be to keep her here.”

“Braden,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “No. I have sanctuary.”

“Once you stepped out of the church, you lost that claim, Joanna.”

Sick to her stomach, she looked around at those closest and saw the truth of his words. In coming to him, she’d surrendered herself, and before she had any assurances. She’d trusted him earlier but ’twas evident now that it was simply a ploy to lull her to his side.

Joanna did not struggle or fight back as Braden’s men surrounded her and took her from the hall. Up the stairs they went, to the chambers assigned to Braden during his stay here. Miles held her wrist firmly all the way and entered the room with her.

“Must I restrain you here, my lady?”

She ignored his question and walked to the window in the room. Lifting the leather flap, she peered out. The chapel sat squarely in view below, taunting her for her stupidity.

“My lady?” Miles repeated, waiting for her compliance.

She would not say the words he wanted. She looked at him and then sought the only chair in the room. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes.

The guard stepped out of the room and gave orders to the others. Just as the door closed, she heard the words that broke her heart.

“My lord said he would get her out of that church however he could. I will not doubt him again.”

The mocking laughter of his men tore into her and Joanna put her face in her hands and cried for all that she’d lost.

He’d not expected her to surrender gracefully after all she’d risked in her attempt to escape him. Indeed, the warrior in him respected the efforts it had taken her to do what she had done. But the change in her was completely unforeseen.

Other than the two broken ribs, Braden’s injuries were more flesh wounds and he’d spent two days healing before leaving for his home. In those two days and in the two days that they’d been on the road, she’d spoken not a word to him. The worst thing was that she was not sulking. She did not cast him angry looks. She did not whisper under her breath.

She was not the same.

When he asked her questions about the trees and plants around them, she did not respond. When he tried to tell her of his home, she said nothing. When he tried to explain that he could not have ignored the opportunity in the hall that morning, she looked through him. In place of the woman who had angered and intrigued and interested him was an empty shell of a person.

The fight was gone from her. The spirit was gone. The passion was gone. He had regained the woman and would have a wife but, as Orrick warned, he would not have a partner.

Braden tried to convince himself that she knew more about him now and would not fear him as she had at first. He had been as patient as he could in giving her time to learn about the man he truly was and he tried to persuade himself that she would come around once they settled at Wynwydd. The arguments and his answers rang hollow even to his ears.

He had betrayed her trust. She had come to him when she could have run and he had handed her over to his men. After three days on the road south, he realized what he must do.

B
raden assisted Joanna out of the tent and to a place where she could take care of her personal needs. They broke their fast with the plain fare of travelers—bread, cheese and ale. As his men readied their horses according to his orders, Braden took her aside to explain the change in plans.

“I have asked four of my men to escort you to your sister’s home in Scotland. Miles will make any arrangements necessary along the way.”

She looked at him for the first time in many days.

“I will send word to your father that I found your dead body and that our agreement is at an end.”

The words tore him apart, but he knew it was the only way. In searching his thoughts and his intentions, he finally realized that the true curse of his family was in believing that anyone was expendable in their quest for release from their situation. He’d taken her against her desire and was willing to sacrifice her life and future to protect his own.

“My lord?” Her eyes searched his face as she tried to understand.

“My family has been cursed somehow for the last five generations. No male lives to see his heir or is sane enough to rec
ognize him. Our women, our wives, seem not to be immune either. Many die in childbirth. ’Twould appear that I am the last of the lords of Wynwydd.”

He turned and peered off into the forest around them. Spring’s fullness had reached northern England and taunted him for his failure.

“Each generation has sought answers and relief from what seemed to be happening, but we have failed. When I realized the fruitlessness, ’twas too late.” He pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead.

“I loved Cecily with all my heart and soul and wanted nothing so much as to have her as my wife,” he began. He must explain this to her.

“Then my last uncle died and my cousin’s wife died giving birth to a son. I realized that marrying her would simply make her suffer from the curse as the rest of us. Death and madness was all that lay before us.”

He swallowed and tried to continue. Cecily’s face as he ended their betrothal swam before him. “She would not agree to end it, so I paid her father to do so. She ranted, raved and begged me not to end it so, but it was the only way I had to protect her. When the dispensation was granted and a new match arranged for her, she came to Wynwydd and we argued. Thinking it would be easier for her to bear if she hated me, I said terrible things to her.”

The sounds of that night, the words of anger, and the look on her face would haunt him until the end of his days. Even worse, finding her broken body after her horse had thrown her and knowing she had died hating him.

“Her horse threw her as she rode out of Wynwydd and she died that night.”

He took Joanna’s hand and led her to her horse. “I will not watch another woman I love die because of my family. I will not take a wife when I know now that I want a partner, like Orrick of Silloth has.”

Braden lifted her up onto the horse’s back and handed her the reins. “I release you from our betrothal, Joanna. Go now and I hope you find some measure of happiness in your life and a husband who will not betray your trust as I did.”

If he thought or hoped that she might say something, he was disappointed. As Miles led the way north out of their camp, she simply stared at him as they rode away.

As he’d told her, he had learned so much from Orrick and Margaret of Silloth. And from all of their people. But, all that he had learned about himself and about what he truly wanted was for naught.

Joanna watched the backs of two of Braden’s men as they rode back the way they’d come from Silloth. Miles told her they would travel to Carlisle and then on to Scotland. With so many traveling to and from that city, their appearance would not gain the attention of anyone. No need for a disguise this time.

Try as she might, she was not able to wipe the sight and sound of Braden from her memory or from her heart. When he had ordered her held, she was prepared to hate him. She wanted to come to him after her questions were answered and after she knew what to expect from him.

Now, she had all the answers but no Braden.

No wonder he was angry at fate for dealing such a horrible burden to his family. He watched as everyone he cared for perished in unspeakable ways. And not by his hand as the gossips reported.

What would be her fate as his wife? Would he go mad as his father had? Would she die in childbirth, trying to give him a son? Or was she the one chance to change the fate of his family as Gwanwyn had foretold?

As she thought on his words, she remembered the reason he’d given in sending her away and finally understood that, if he could send her away to protect her, he was the man she
wanted to marry. The kind of man she would be safe with. The kind of man who would be her husband and her partner in the challenges that life had to offer.

The kind of man she could love.

“Miles!”

She would always remember the look on his face as she and his men caught up with him on the road.

Shock.

Confusion.

Love.

And such hope that she cried as she saw it in his eyes. Joanna slid down from her horse and rushed into his arms. He caught her and held her as though he’d never let her go. Then, the stupid man began to try to talk her out of her decision.

“I may go mad.”

“As might I, Braden, if you force me away.”

He kissed her for that comment, his hands ruffling her hair and his tongue tasting her mouth.

“You might die in childbirth,” he whispered, his voice filled with the fear of losing her.

“Aye, I may. All women might. But, with Gwanwyn’s help, it should work out.”

Braden held her closely and nuzzled her head with his chin.

“’Twas only after you let me go that I knew you were not the man I believed you to be. Or should I say you are the man I hoped you would be.”

“Are you certain about this, Joanna? I could not bear it if you ran from me again.”

“As certain as any woman can be, Braden. Unless there is something you have not shared with me that I need to know?”

He leaned back and looked into her eyes and she saw amusement within his. “Only a few surprises that I would not want to spoil for you, love.”

T
he first of the surprises was Wynwydd itself.

Somehow she’d expected dark brooding forests and shadowed landscapes to match the reputation of the lords of Wynwydd. As they crossed the last stream and entered his lands, Joanna was astonished to find green, rolling hills, lush forests, clear blue lakes and farmlands that looked as plentiful as any she’d seen.

Any hint that his people lived in fear of him vanished as they entered the village outside his walled manor house. He called out her name to them and they cheered her arrival. His people crowded around as they said their vows twice—once at the doors of the church and once under a bower of the most beautiful blossoms and vines she’d ever seen.

The second surprise was Gwanwyn.

For some reason, she had the image of an older woman, one of an age such as Lady Margaret or Wenda, in mind whenever Braden mentioned the wise-woman of his village. Instead, Gwanwyn was a well-endowed young woman of not more than a score of years with a lithesome figure, bright blue eyes and shimmering locks of blond hair, hair that would have rivaled her own, before she cut it off.

Joanna’s attempts to tamp down the jealous feelings when she saw this woman talking in a familiar manner with Braden did not go unnoticed. Indeed, she was so surprised by Gwanwyn’s true appearance that he had to reach over and close her mouth when he introduced them.

But the biggest surprise happened after their wedding.

After Braden claimed her and made her his own, she had drifted off to sleep. Sometime later, he roused her from her sleep and carried her outside. Wrapped in only a cloak, she huddled in his arms as the guards opened the gate and he walked back to the same bower where they had spoken their vows earlier.

“Braden, why are we here?” she asked in a whisper as he placed her back on her feet. “Someone could hear us or see us.”

“’Tis the part of Gwanwyn’s words that I did not tell you about, Joanna. A surprise. Fear not, love, no one will approach this place until after dawn.”

He slipped his hands inside the cloak and touched her breasts. The chill of the air and the heat of his hands made for an enticing feeling and she leaned into him. Knowing now what was to come, Joanna leaned her head back and accepted his kiss. His tongue swirled around hers and he traced circles around the tightened buds of her nipples with his thumbs. Arching into his hands, she kissed him back, sucking on his tongue and lifting his tunic to reach inside.

Before she could stop him, he tore off his tunic and untied the laces of her cloak, dropping it on the ground behind her. Gooseflesh rose on her skin and she started to pull away. Instead, Braden rubbed his hands down her back, onto her bottom and pulled her closer to him so that his heated skin touched hers. And warmed her.

The pulsing heat spread through her as he touched and teased her body. Still new at this part of it, Joanna wrapped her hands around his neck and held on tightly as he took her
once more on this journey of love. She felt his hardness against her belly and knew that he would claim her soon.

Braden knelt before her and kissed all the way down from her breasts to her stomach and then even onto the curls that shielded that most private part of her. When he spread her legs and tried to put his mouth there, she startled.

“Braden?”

“Too soon then, love? We can try that in our bed. For now…” he said, his words trailing off into a whispered promise.

He sat back on his knees and guided her to straddle his legs, bringing the place that now throbbed onto his hardness. When she hesitated, he teased the aching folds between her thighs with his hands and eased her down. As he filled her, her head fell back and Joanna moaned out the wonderful feelings within her. Then, shifting once more, he laid her on her back and thrust as deeply as he could.

Surrounded by the soft green grass, the scent of nearby honeysuckles and the sounds of the approaching dawn, she felt everything within her tighten as she met his thrusts with her own. Her toes curled and she drew her legs up so that he could enter more deeply into her body. Aching, she welcomed his hardness against the core of her. Moving together and apart, together and apart, she could feel the tension within her growing and growing until, with a last thrust, he spilled his seed inside of her.

Her own release welled up from the core of her, through her heart and soul, and out until her cries mingled with his. Their essences spilled out on the grass, now covered with the morning dew.

They stayed joined, until they could breathe again and then he eased from her. Although her body had begun to notice the morning’s chill air, she was still too caught up in the throes of their joining to complain.

“Did you feel it?” he asked, turning on his side and gazing on her. He slid his hand down and rested it on her belly.

“I felt much.” She smiled at him and reached out to entwine her fingers with his.

“Gwanwyn said the curse would be lifted if we joined in such a manner.”

Shaking her head, she wondered if she should be fearful of the power of Gwanwyn over her husband. Then, realizing what the wise-woman’s words had done, she decided not.

“And do you believe it, Braden? Is it gone?”

“I hope so, love. I hope so.”

They were not completely alone.

’Twas Gwanwyn’s practice to gather certain herbs at dawn when they were just opening and most potent. She skirted the bower not wanting to intrude, but the sound of a woman’s keening release and a man’s deep groan of satisfaction could be heard throughout the valley.

The lord of Wynwydd had found his life mate and brought her back to his home.

Her words, her prophecies as Lord Braden called them, were not really a magic spell or enchantment. They were the simple words of someone who recognized the danger of hopelessness. For once a man lost hope, he lost all and could hold nothing.

Her own family had lived on this land and served the lords of Wynwydd for generations as ill fortune met disaster and the family was nearly destroyed—first by untimely deaths and then by the growing gossip and rumors about them.

Lord Braden’s father did not heed the words of her mother, nor his grandfather before him. ’Twas only when Braden came to manhood and showed the spark of knowledge and the willingness to listen that she could fulfill her family’s calling and help him lift the true curse that plagued them.

And it was only through a woman like Joanna that it could work. Only with Joanna’s demand for him to change, and her love and support for him, could he learn to hope again.

And hope was the answer he sought.

Even as the light of dawn crept over the horizon, the laughter of the lord and lady spilled down the valley and across the meadows. Gwanwyn smiled and entered the forest assured that the curse was gone and, in nine months’ time, the lord of Wynwydd would look upon his heir.