Isabel stared at him, speechless, unable to say anything, her colour deepening.
He thought her incredible and kind-hearted?
She was not used to such compliments, but knew that Will would never say them unless he meant them.
Good grief!
He was still ardently talking to her. ‘I’m not the same man that I once was,’ he said softly. ‘Nothing in life stays the same.’
She remained silent for a while as they drew closer to the port, the outline of the dwellings, boats and people becoming clearer.
‘When did you become so wise?’ she said finally, repeating the same words Will had said as they had watched the sunrise together a few days ago.
He didn’t reply, but gave her an eloquent look instead.
Isabel hadn’t seen much of Will since that resplendent morn, after his poignant revelations. It had been cathartic for Will to be able to unburden himself to her. He seemed much lighter, happier even, without the weight he had been carrying for so long. And though it had made her ache for all that Will had suffered, it had made Isabel feel humble that he had entrusted her with his woes. It also meant that she understood him a lot better.
Since then, things had changed between them. The overwhelming tension seemed to have drifted away with the storm. In its stead was an unfettered connection between them that was stronger than before. A powerful attraction that simply took her breath away.
The truth was that Isabel cared deeply for the man standing beside her, but knew it was futile. It would cause her a different sort of heartache now that they were back in England, so close to the end of their journey.
She pushed away these musings. ‘I just wish that I felt something now that I’m back in England.’
‘Allow for more time to get used to it, Isabel...just as I shall have to.’
Time...
It was the one thing that she knew was slipping away from her. This precious time she had left with Will. Mayhap that was also the reason why she was also feeling apprehensive. The knowledge that it would all come to an end soon.
‘I suppose I shall have to.’
Chapter Eighteen
Once they had disembarked, Will knew that, without the Templars’ protection, there could once again be the possibility of danger from Rolleston and his men. He would take no chances now that they were back on English soil. He must be alert to any eventuality.
The lodgings Will had secured were with the local shipyard’s carpenter and the furthest dwelling along the quay. Before doing anything, Will asked for parchment and ink so that he could write to Hugh de Villers, Lord Tallany, hoping that he was at Winchester Castle so that the messenger would not have to travel as far north as Tallany Castle. The matter of urgency in his missive could not be helped. He must get through to his old friend and hope that the strength of their friendship still carried favour.
Will also wrote to his mother, knowing that although she could not read, his message would be imparted to her by the local priest, who could.
They were given turned-out chambers with beds, clean bedding and, for extra silver, a hearty meal of mutton stew, freshly baked bread and warm ale for them and a huge bone with scraps for Isabel’s dog. As well as that, they had the luxury of blissful hot baths in tall wooden tubs.
Will had sunk into the scented warmth in the private, secluded courtyard as Isabel had her bath in her chamber. He caught a shadowy glimpse of her as she looked out from her window, but she disappeared from view straight after.
* * *
Later, before retiring to bed, they sat side by side in front of the hearth in the small antechamber, the warmth of the fire penetrating their weary bones. It was distinctly cooler in England, particularly being so close to the sea with its brisk northerly wind, which rattled against the windowpane.
Will resumed his carving on the oval-shaped slate that he had now sanded and shaped. He wanted to complete it before...before the end of their journey. He slid a quick glance at Isabel and sighed. She seemed so pensive since their arrival, lost in her own musings.
‘You look troubled, my lady.’
She reached down and stroked Perdu, who was happily snoozing by her feet.
He tried again. ‘If you’re still worried about your meeting your mother and—’
‘No, it’s not that,’ she interrupted, looking straight ahead.
Damn.
Will knew what was troubling her. The moment he had told her of his plans for the following day, she had stiffened and withdrawn from him. It didn’t sit well with him either, but it was the only way forward. Painful as it was, it had to be this way.
Their last night travelling alone...
He had secured a wagon for Isabel to be conveyed back to Castle de Clancey, along with a widowed female companion. As well as this, new clothes had been bought from the local clothier, who was more than happy to have such a commission to work on through the night, for it meant a generous amount of coin for his troubles. Will would travel alongside them on a horse he had yet to procure, with a young stable boy who would act as a page as well as another man to help as guard. There were still a few details to resolve, but he hoped that they would leave for the final part of their journey on the morrow.
All of these plans were good, made with sound reason, and yet they meant that, from tomorrow, they would no longer share their journey as they had done...just the two of them.
From tomorrow, Isabel would officially become Lady Isabel de Clancey.
‘Let’s talk of different things,’ she said abruptly. ‘Would you show me instead how to carve the stone in that intricate way you’re doing?’
Will’s brows arched in the surprise. ‘Very well.’ He put down his tools and fetched a small stool, placing it in front of where he was sitting. ‘If you would oblige me by sitting here, Isabel, facing the hearth.’
She sat where he suggested as he resumed his seat behind her. Will leant forward and heard Isabel gasp as he dragged his arms around her, closing his fingers around hers. This close, he could see the delicate dusting of freckles along her smooth neck. This close, the scent from her skin and damp hair engulfed his senses. This close, he was reminded of things he yearned for, but could not have.
He cleared his throat and grabbed his tools in one hand and the slate in the other. He passed them to Isabel and once again covered her hands, marvelling at how small they were and how well they fit into his.
‘Shall we start with this chisel or would you like something smaller?’
‘This will do well.’
‘Good. You can see the designs that I have already carved and can either continue with what I’ve done, or come up with a different pattern.’
‘Should it be something that complements what is here?’
Will watched, mesmerised, as she gathered the length of her hair and allowed it to tumble over one shoulder.
‘It should be anything that you choose. Anything that pleases you.’ He helped guide the angle of the chisel, tilting it to the side as he murmured from behind her, ‘Hold it like so, sweeping down from this angle in one motion...now hold the slate around the edge firmly. You don’t want it to slip away the moment you make contact.’
They continued to work silently. Carefully. Slowly.
He helped guide the tools, deftly showing her the correct way to carve intricate shapes. Her back rested his chest as he leant forward, his head over her shoulder, his breath close to her face.
‘That’s it...very good,’ he whispered encouragingly. He slid her a quick glance, noticing the tip of her tongue sticking out with a look of concentration on her face. His chest tightened in pain as though he had been speared through his damned heart.
He swallowed uncomfortably, knowing that he would always remember this. He would always remember the way she looked this eventide, settled in his arms with her hair draped ove
r one shoulder, working with quiet diligence while adding her marks on the stone. He would have to put it all to memory—everything about her.
Eventually, she leant back, relinquishing the tools to Will, and held the stone in her hand, her task evidently complete. ‘What do you think?’
He studied the swirly patterns etched around his efforts, joining the sharp ends of his designs and extending them to form rounded shapes. The inexperience of her crude marks, somehow endearing.
‘Infinitely better than before.’ He grinned at her.
‘We both know that’s not true.’ She moved to sit beside him again. ‘Are you teasing me, Sir William?’
‘I, your errant knight?’ he said in mock outrage. ‘Do you think that I could ever stoop so low as to give false praise to a fair lady?’
She raised a sardonic brow. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘Absolutely not. Along with being a sensible sort of man, as I’ve often been called, I would never dream of being dishonest...especially as you still hold my chisel in your hand.’
She chucked. ‘I’m glad to hear it. My errant knight would know better than to do that.’
‘Indeed.’ Will placed his hand underneath Isabel’s so that he could take a better look at their joint endeavour. He tilted it around and examined it. ‘It does have a certain charm, though.’
‘In the flaws that I’ve added? Its imperfection?’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘I fear that I’ve spoiled your beautiful design.’
He lifted her chin with one finger so he could gaze into her eyes and memorise every shade of green, amber, ochre and the striking splash of brown.
‘I would always rather the imperfections and flaws, Isabel.’ His lips held a faint smile. ‘And now there is a little bit of me and little bit of you imparted on this stone...for ever.’
He watched her blink several times, her eyes filling with tears. She handed him the stone and shot up abruptly, taking a few steps away and turning her back to him, her hands on her hips.
Hell.
He hadn’t meant to upset her. He had wanted to...to...what exactly? Soothe her with such overblown sentimentality?
Yet...they were words that bared his soul. Words that reminded them both that while the patterns on the etching might last for all of time, they could not...even if they wanted to.
The truth was that he felt it, too. This overwhelming heaviness around his chest, making breathing unbearable. Knowing that tonight would be their last in the manner that they had become accustomed to on this journey. Tomorrow would bring a change and bring them closer to Castle de Clancey. The moment they would have to part.
He moved to stand behind Isabel, brushing his hands over her shoulders and down the length of her arms before threading his fingers through hers.
‘I apologise, Isabel.’
‘Why?’ She spun around with a strained smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘There’s nothing to apologise for.’
His hands flexed around her waist. ‘Isn’t there? I hadn’t meant to distress you.’
‘You haven’t...’ Her smiled slipped from her lips and she sunk her teeth into them instead. ‘It’s just that this is all so...so difficult.’
‘Yes.’
‘Everything is going to change.’
‘Yes,’ he muttered again.
‘What if we don’t want it to?’
He shook his head. ‘We don’t have a choice, I’m afraid.’
She covered her face with her hands. ‘I have always known it could come this. I have always known that it would be too dangerous for me to get close to you.’
‘I am a dangerous man,’ he said wryly.
Her hands dropped to her sides and her cheeks darkened. ‘No, you’re not, Will. You’re the best man I know.’
He wished that was true. He wished for many things that were out of his reach, but mostly he wished that he had the power to change his past and be a better man for Isabel.
‘Some changes can be a force for good.’ He shrugged. ‘After all, nothing ever stays the same, as you well know.
‘I’m not sure I’m ready for these changes, Will.’
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. ‘I know that in your own inimitable way, Isabel, you’ll rise up to any challenge.’
‘You have more faith in me than I have in myself.’
‘Ah, but then you have more belief in me than I have in myself.’
He pulled away and they stood watching one another for a long moment. Every flicker of emotion passed through her eyes.
‘Know this, William Geraint,’ Isabel whispered as she brought up her hand to cup his jaw, caressing his face. ‘You are worthy of more than just my belief in you. You are worthy of my love, my heart. In fact, I give them freely to you.’
Her hand shot out to cover his mouth as he opened it to speak. ‘No. Please don’t say anything.’
Will peeled her fingers away gently, never taking his eyes off her. ‘Oh, but I must, sweetheart.’ He bent down and swooped her up in his arms, carrying her into the larger bedchamber he’d given to her to use. ‘How else would I tell you that I care for you?’ He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her softly. ‘How else would I tell you that I love you?’
He heard her gasp and saw her eyes widen, her lips opening in response, but it was his turn to drown out whatever she had wanted to say. The time for words was no more.
He caught her mouth again as he carried her to the bed, setting her down and lying beside her. He bent his arm and placed one hand under his head as the other caressed the soft contours of her body.
‘You...you love me?’ She sounded as though she had difficulty believing him.
‘With all my heart.’
‘Oh, Will...’ Her arms came around his neck, pulling him close, so that they were sharing the same ragged breath. ‘How can I ever let you go?’
‘You must, Isabel,’ he whispered against her lips. ‘As I shall have to let you go.’
‘I know. I have told myself that a thousand times, but it doesn’t make this any easier.’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ He ran his fingers down the velvety softness of her hair, now almost dry. ‘But we have tonight.’
‘Yes—’ she shifted beneath him, so that his body, his hands, his mouth were closer still ‘—we do.’
* * *
Words were not enough to show the extent of what Isabel felt in her heart, which pounded a deafening tattoo in her chest.
Her overwhelming desire for Will was threatening to consume her, so much so that she began to tremble in his arms. They had hurriedly undressed one another and lay skin to skin, panting, craving with dizzying need. She wanted more of his kisses, his touches, his hands over her body, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
She wanted to be part of him in every way. She wanted to hold on to this moment for as long as possible before it slipped away for good.
We have tonight...
Very well, if that was all that she could have, then she would take it, everything he had to give, and in return she would show him what he meant to her, pledging her heart and soul to him.
She gasped as he entered her body, his midnight-blue eyes glittering above her with raw emotion, raw need. Hands touched, fingers explored, mouths tasted and they devoured. Tongues licked and tangled and, oh, heavens, wickedly sucked parts of her body that shocked her. Excited her. Teeth nuzzled as they nipped every curve, every crevice with maddening reverence.
Isabel felt emboldened to do the same. Her fingers, hands and lips grazed a path over his taut body, the taste of him making her weak with need. Her fingers traced the bulging arms that held her, the scars on his rippled chest and along the curve of his sinewy back. She covered a vein throbbing in his neck with her mouth and nipped it gently, feeling the pulse quiver. Her hands dipped down his lower back and the
n to his firm buttocks, hard under her touch. She could feel the smattering of hair on his chest rub against her breasts as they slid against each other. Her back arched as he drove himself into her with languid strokes, her ripened body stretched to take him. Again, and again, quickening in pace, until a certain uncontrollable wildness took over. Something beguiling and intangible.
Blood pumped through her veins. Her body was slick with heat, with a rush that pooled in her stomach and in her core. She felt boneless, ready to melt into nothing.
And then it came—a feeling that was still new, still unexpected, still heart-stopping. Her breath caught, her body thrashed and burst into a thousand little pieces.
‘Always...’Will shuddered above her as she tried to make out the words he had whispered in her ear moments before. ‘I’ll always love you.’
She swallowed, unable to say anything as the beat of her heart slowed, her breathing shallow. The side of her face and neck were wet, her tears pooling into her hair.
Tears? Oh, God, how mortifying!
‘Isabel?’ he whispered. ‘Is anything the matter?’
‘No, nothing.’ She twisted her head around as he stroked her face, wiping the last of her tears. ‘But could you do something for me? Just one more time.’
‘Anything.’
‘Kiss me.’
Yes, Isabel would have this night to remember. She would have this night to believe that there could be wondrous possibilities that weren’t governed by what was expected of her. Even if it meant that her heart would later shatter. She would endure it. Isabel had the rest of her life to think about what she was about to lose, but not tonight.
Tonight was for loving.
Chapter Nineteen
The morning did come, all too quickly, and it was an auspiciously grey and cold one at that. Will had remained with her all night, making love to Isabel once more until all that was left was sleep. She woke to find her limbs tangled with his, one arm draped over his flat stomach. She lifted herself a little to watch the slumbering man beside her. He looked so peaceful in sleep, without the worries he faced in the day, this man who made her heart soar.
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