While Angels Slept (14 page)

She looked at
him as if he was pure evil. “How can you say that? You are married.”

“By law, yes.
But it is not the simple.”

She looked as if
she wanted to punch him, her little fists balled up as she struggled. “You have
toyed with me. I shall never forgive you for that.”

He spoke
steadily, firmly, hoping she would hear his words above her outrage. “My wife
has not been a part of my life since my daughter was born,” he said. “She was a
noble of Teutonic birth and we were betrothed as children.  We were married at
a very young age and my daughter was born less than a year later. But Arabel
was born with defects and my wife refused to accept the child. She blamed me
for everything. She abandoned the baby and she abandoned our marriage. She ran
off with one of the German knights who had escorted her to our marriage from
her homeland and I’ve not seen her since.”

By this time,
Cantia had stopped struggling. She gazed up at Tevin with a mixture of
disbelief and anger. “The baby,” she said. “What is wrong with her?”

Tevin’s tight
grip on her loosened, his hands beginning to caress her. “She was born with her
spine exposed,” he said. “She is a cripple who cannot walk and can barely move
her arms.  But she is fifteen years old now and the most brilliant woman I have
ever known.  I am not sorry she was born, not in the least. Though I am sorry
every day that her mother left her, I am not sorry that her mother left
me
,
if that makes any sense. Louisa was proud, arrogant, and cruel. She has been
gone these fifteen years and until a few weeks ago, I’d not thought of her in almost
as long. And then I met you and began to wonder if the woman still lived. For
as long as she lives, I can never remarry. You have made me think of such
things and be concerned for them.  But that does not stop me from adoring you,
Cantia. It does not stop these feelings growing in side of me.”

Cantia just
stared at him. He suddenly became so human in her eyes, so fragile; the
Viscount who commanded thousands was a man with a heavy heart and a humiliating
past.  She lifted a timid hand to his cheek.

“Oh… my poor
Tevin,” she said softly. “Your wife ran off and left you with an ill child.”

He shrugged; it
was an old wound, long since healed. “Arabel is a beautiful, intelligent girl.
She has been my one joy in life until now. Since I met you, it is as if an
entirely new world has opened up to me, something I never knew to exist.  I
don’t want to lose this, Cantia, but it all seems horribly unfair to you.”

“How do you
mean?”

“Because nothing
can ever become of it. I cannot marry you, and you should most definitely
remarry. You will make some man a very fine wife.”

He hated
uttering those words, for they were like daggers to his heart.  Cantia removed
her hand from his face and lowered her gaze, obviously contemplating all he had
just told her.  She resumed her walk, following the path of her son. They could
see him in the distance, throwing himself on the ground in an attempt to trap
his quarry.  She came to a halt on the crest of a small hill, about fifteen
feet from Tevin. He still stood there, watching the breeze gently blow her hair
about, wondering if all of the joy and excitement of the past few weeks had
come to a tragic end. 

That was more
than likely the case. Cantia stood far from him, unmoving and silent. Tevin
stood there a nominal amount of time before turning away from her with the
intention of returning to the castle.  But her soft voice stopped him.

“Tevin,” she
called quietly.

He turned to
her. “Aye?”

“Your wife,” she
began. “Have you ever tried to find her?”

He paused,
retracing his steps back in her direction.  “Right after she left. But her
father told me what she had done. Apparently, she had been in love with this
knight since childhood and did not see her marriage to me as an obstacle to
their happiness. Her father thought she was living in Paris with this man but
he was not sure. I did not pursue it beyond that.”

He was within a
few feet of her when she turned to look at him. “I must ask you a serious
question.”

“By all means.”

“If your wife
was dead, would you want to marry me?”

“Tomorrow, if I
could.”

“Do you feel so
strongly, then?”

He snorted at
the irony of the question. “I believe that I do. Do you?”
She fell silent, her lavender eyes watching her son in the distance.  As he watched
her, he could see the tears returning.  “No, Cantia,” he murmured. “No tears,
not now.”

His words only
made her burst into soft sobs.  With a sigh, Tevin put his arms around her,
holding her tightly against him. She clung to him, her soft body pressed close.

“I have felt so
guilty for these feelings I harbor for you, thinking them very disrespectful to
Brac’s memory,” she wept. “At first I thought I felt them because you had been
kind to me and I was grieving and lonely, but as time passed, I realized these
feelings had nothing to do with Brac’s passing. They were strong on their own.
Now I cannot deny them no matter how hard I try.”

His face was
buried in the top of her head as he rocked her gently.  “As I have harbored the
same guilt, only worse. I thought perhaps I was taking advantage of your
vulnerability.”

She pulled her
face out of his chest, looking up at him. “Never have you done that. You are a
man of too much honor.”

He gazed down at
her, feeling that uncontrollable pull again. It was a supreme struggle not to
kiss her, out in the open to the shock of her son.   A massive hand came up,
smoothing her hair away from her face as he absorbed her lovely features.

“My cousin will
be here for a week or two,” he said quietly. “You and I will be separated for as
long. Perhaps… perhaps it will give us time to discover what we really feel, if
it is something more than pity or convenience or lust.”

She knew he was
right, though she did not want to be separated from him, not even for a moment.
“And if we discover they are true?”

He pulled her
closer. “Then I will go to Paris. I will not stop until I have discovered what
has become of Louisa.”

Cantia swallowed
hard. “And if she is alive?”

“I will petition
the pope to annul the marriage on the ground of abandonment and cruelty. And
then I will marry you, we will have a dozen sons just like Hunt, and we will
grow old in each other’s arms.”

She smiled,
loving the feel of him against her, loving the glorious handsomeness of his
masculine face. The wind was kicking up, blowing his copper curls into her
face. “But what if you cannot obtain an annulment? What then?”

“I will still adore
you for the rest of my life. You and no other.”

Her smile faded.
“And I will still bear you a dozen strong sons and we will still grow old in
each other’s arms.”

“I cannot ask
that of you.”

“You did not. If
it is the only way I can have you, then I am happy to make that choice.”

His dark eyes
glittered like shards of obsidian, hard and unyielding and powerful.  “Madam, I
cannot imagine a greater honor, but you should think carefully about that
statement while we are apart. I may hold you to it.”

“I would hope
you do.”

He wanted to
kiss her so badly that he began to shake. Unable to control himself, he lifted
both of her hands and hungrily kissed them, devouring her flesh, sucking on her
fingers until Cantia gasped softly. He nibbled her palms, her wrists, even her
fingernails.  In his grasp, Cantia was breathing heavily.

“Oh, Tevin,” she
gasped. “When you do that.…”

“I know,” he
murmured, his lips against the back of her right hand. “If you could only feel
my need for you now, madam, you would know how badly I want you. All of you.”

Shockingly
strong words, but she was not surprised or offended. She was not a maiden and
Brac’s want for her had been insatiable.  She knew what it meant to have a man
make love to her. She wondered what it would be like when Tevin did. And she
had no doubt that he soon would.

She moved close
to him, taking his face between her hands. “I will take Hunt back to the castle
so that he may play with his dog in the yard,” she whispered, her face an inch
from his. “And then I will retreat to my chamber. You may find me there in one
hour. Alone.”

He stared at her
a moment, unsure if he heard correctly. He knew what she meant simply by the
look in her eye. “Are you sure?”

“Verily.”

“But… Cantia, I
do not want you to think that I am only interested in conquest. I do not take this
lightly.”

“Nor do I,” she
whispered. With that, she pressed her open mouth against him, her tongue
engaging in a delicate dance with his. The blaze between them flared like a
fire with too much dry kindling and, for a brief moment, Tevin was in danger of
swallowing up her entire face. He couldn’t get enough of her. But just as
quickly, she pulled away, walking hastily in the direction of her frolicking
son. 

Heart thumping
painfully against his ribs, Tevin watched her go.  He put his hand on his chest
as if to stop the crazy beating. He couldn’t breathe. But she said she would be
waiting for him in an hour.

It was the
longest hour of his life.

CHAPTER SEVEN

With her healing
ribs, Val couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. The sling back chairs
did not provide enough support and the benches were too awkward.  The only way
she could find even moderate relief was if she pushed a sling back chair
against a wall and propped herself up with a pillow. 

Ever since their
return from the cathedral that morning, she had been seated in the solar in
precisely that up-right position.  Though she hated needlework and wasn’t any
good at it, she was giving it a moderate try.  One of the serving women had
given her a clean piece of linen on Lady Cantia’s old frame and several colors
of silk thread. So, like a true lady, Val was attempting to do something other
than shoot arrows and thrust swords. Truth was that she couldn’t do much else.

It was turning
out to be a horrendous piece of work over the past few hours she had been
attempting it.  And it was difficult to focus, too, considering the solar door
was near the entry of the keep and she could see all manner of traffic passing
in and out. Cantia and Hunt came in at one point, the boy rushing into the great
hall while his mother mounted the steps to the upper levels. Then Myles came in
a short time later and parked himself in a chair next to Val just to pass the
time.  Val had always liked Myles; he was handsome, wise and good of character.
But he only spoke of the weather and a new charger or the price of a good
sword. Never anything she might like to hear, though she wasn’t sure what, in
fact, she might like to hear from him. Still, she wished he would speak to her
of something other than warring.

Tevin came in a
short time after Myles’ arrival, entered the solar, and engaged Myles in talk
of de Gael’s arrival. Myles seemed to have calmed after his initial outburst;
in fact, he showed his reluctance when Tevin asked him to escort the ladies to
another location for the duration of the earl’s visit.  He wanted to stay, but
Tevin convinced him that escorting the ladies was far more important. Val was
secretly glad he would be going.  Maybe she could coerce him into speaking on
the color of her eyes instead of the color of battle.

But thoughts of
Myles aside, Val sensed something in Tevin. Outwardly, her brother was cool and
collected, as usual. But an odd flicker in his eyes gave him an almost edgy
expression.  When he spoke with Myles, it was if his mind was elsewhere.  Val
wondered if it had something to do with Cantia. Tevin just didn’t seem like
himself since they had returned from the cathedral.

To make the
situation even stranger, he lingered so long in the solar that it almost seemed
as if he was killing time. Tevin was a man perpetually busy, which made it seem
odd for him to loiter over meaningless conversation. But that was exactly what
he seemed to be doing. Val was becoming suspicious.  Just as she was preparing
to ask him why he seemed so solicitous, Hunt entered the solar with a stick in
one hand and the big yellow dog on his heels.  The blue-eyed boy looked up at
Tevin.

“My lord,” he
tugged on Tevin’s tunic. “Have you theen my grandfather?”

Tevin looked
down at the child; the question surprised him. Hunt had been displaying the
resilience of a child in the wake of his father’s death and his grandfather’s
subsequent madness, which made the question seem odd.  It was the first the boy
had mentioned his grandfather in two days. 

“Your
grandfather is safe, Hunt,” he said evenly. “You will see him soon, I am sure.”

Hunt’s little
brow was furrowed. “But he promisthed to make me a new sword. I buried my other
sword with my father. Where is grandfather?”

Tevin glanced at
Val; her pale eyes were wide, wondering how Tevin was going to handle this
delicate operation.   Tevin crouched down so he was nearly eye to eye with the
child.

“Your
grandfather is not feeling well,” he said honestly. “He is very sad that your
father has died. He needs a few days to rest and then I am sure he will be well
again.”

Hunt’s eyes were
the shape of Cantia’s, even if they weren’t the same color. But Tevin also saw
a good deal of Brac in the little face.

“But where ith
he?” Hunt persisted. “Can I go and see him?”

“Nay, lad,”
Tevin did not want the boy visiting his hysterical grandfather in the vault.
“Not today. Perhaps tomorrow.”

Hunt didn’t
protest, though it was obvious he was disappointed.  He looked at his stick and
then looked back at Tevin. He raised the stick. “Will you fight me, then?”