Cullen was in shock. “I must be,” he whispered. “For only in Heaven would I hold you again.”
Teodora’s hand shook as she touched his face, looking deeply into his muddled eyes. She kissed his lips, tenderly. “This is our own private heaven,” she murmured. “I have difficulty believing that you are real.”
He could see her quite clearly now. This is no dream, he told himself wildly. A surge of strength pulsed through him, coming straight from his heart and moving through his arms. His lifted them and his fingers grasped at her face as if afraid he would lose his grip and she would fade away. The wetness from her tears was on his flesh, her hot breath on his wrists, and Cullen felt rapture such as he had never known. A dream didn’t cry real tears, nor did its flesh feel like the finest silk in his hands.
He could scarcely believe it.
“Teodora,” his voice was stronger now, though faint with awe. “My beautiful Teddy. Is this truly possible?”
Teodora struggled to control her weeping. “Aye,” she whispered, kissing him again. She couldn’t help but kiss him. “It’s more than possible.”
“How… how did you get here?”
“I came with Chad and Sean,” she said. “We were at Rockingham together and…”
Cullen cut her off. “De Lara?” he said. “He is here?”
Teodora shook her head. “He returned to Rockingham yesterday,” she said. “He could not remain here, not when… oh, it doesn’t matter now. I am here and I swear I shall never, ever leave you again.”
Cullen couldn’t seem to hold her tightly enough or touch her fast enough. One hand stayed on her face while the other moved over her neck, shoulders and arms, as if feeling for himself the reality of her flesh. He began to shake, as much from excitement as from illness. Both hands suddenly clamped down over her face again and he pulled her down to his lips, kissing her with all of the longing and joy that he was feeling. Teodora laughed through her tears, her happiness exploding in a great burst of sound, and she collapsed atop him.
Chadwick tried to protect his patient’s tender wounds, ones he had so recently sewn up, but Cullen didn’t seem to mind her wriggling weight. Giving up, Chadwick stood back, distancing himself from a reunion and fighting the pain it provoked. He felt like an intruder, watching the tenderest of moments, and the dagger that had cut out his heart was now gutting him completely.
Unable to watch any longer, he quit the hut.
“I do not understand what has happened,” Cullen murmured, his massive arms wrapped around her torso. “What miracle has brought you back to me?”
Teodora pushed herself up so that she could look him in the eyes; their faces were so close that their noses nearly touched. She kissed the tip of his nose, he kissed her eye, and they giggled. There was such joy between them that no words existed to describe it.
They couldn’t even try.
“I was told you were dead,” she said, her voice quivering. “Hamilton told me when I was locked up at Westminster that you had been killed trying to escape King John’s guard.”
“Not true,” he said. “I was very much alive, though trying to find a way to rescue you without getting myself killed. That is how Regal came to be with me. I slipped her from Preston’s apartments so that he would not take his anger out on her.”
“She told me what you did. You went back to save her from Preston.”
“Aye.”
Teodora understood his motives, having rescued the weak old woman first, and she was very proud of him for doing so. But the light in her eyes faded somewhat as she gazed at him.
“I understand that it was virtually impossible to rescue me from Westminster,” she said. “But why did you not come for me at Rockingham? Didn’t you know where I had been taken?”
He shook his head, very slowly. “I surely did not,” his voice was faint. “Sudeley told me that you were killed trying to flee the king’s guard. He said that he saw your body for himself. Had I known you were still alive, you know me well enough to know that nothing could have stood in my way. Not king, nor soldiers, nor the great stone walls of Rockingham. I would have found a way to retrieve you.”
Teodora knew he spoke the truth. And it was increasingly apparent what had happened, though not why. “Godfrey and Hamilton conspired to separate us, telling each of us that the other was dead.” She looked bewildered. “Why would they do this, Cullen? Did we wrong them somehow that they would conspire against us so?”
Cullen shook his head weakly. “I do not know. Mayhap we will never know their reasons. But something Godfrey said to me now makes sense.”
“What?”
“I wanted to seek immediate revenge for your death, but he begged me not to. He said I needed time to think, to get away from the source of my pain. It was obvious he didn’t want me dead, but simply out of the way.” He paused for breath. “He repeatedly suggested that I leave Westminster and never return. He told me to go north, to clear my head. The man wanted me gone, that much is certain. He knew I would never leave if I knew you were still alive.”
“So he told you that I was dead.” She closed her eyes to the mere thought. “Now I understand why you fell in with the outlaws. To forget about your grief.”
“Nay,” he said. “I fell in with them because it was all I could do.”
She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
His dark gaze ignited in a flame of fury and he stroked her face, once again reaffirming for himself that she was truly alive. “To decide who, exactly, to kill to avenge you.”
Their joyous reunion was dampened by the treachery surrounding their separation. Teodora could see, in that instant, how disturbed Cullen had been over her alleged death. While she had cried out her anguish and turned to stone, Cullen’s grief had burned deep, so deep that he was wracked with hatred for those he had once served, and for political enemies that were now his mortal foes.
A long finger stroked his bearded cheek and she kissed him again “Did you decide, then?”
He blinked slowly, reptilian, as if pondering his answer. In faith, he didn’t know what to say because he didn’t want her to know the extent of his vengeance. In fact, he didn’t even really know the full extent of his vengeance, but he did know one thing – as much as he was trying to ruin Barric with the outlaw raids, eventually, he would have graduated into something else –
An assassin.
He more than likely would have killed Barric, and possibly the king as well. But how could he tell her any of that? Already, she knew he had become an outlaw, living with Owen and his hoodlums. He feared she might think even less of him for scheming murder, and he wasn’t willing to risk it. Even though his fears were foolish, still, deep down, he was ashamed at the path he had chosen, though not the motives behind it.
“I suppose it does not matter now,” he said after a moment. “You are alive, and that is the only thing of importance.”
Teodora didn’t press him. To dredge up such hatred and dishonor would only harm them both and, in truth, she didn’t want to know all of it. She forced a smile. “As are you, my love,” she said resolutely. Then, she seemed to hesitate. “Did you hear me speaking to you while you were unconscious?”
“I heard a mumbling, I think. How long have I been unconscious?”
“You were wounded yesterday,” Teodora said. “It is now the afternoon of the next day. Then you did not hear any words I spoke to you in your dreams?”
He sighed, feeling his fatigue now that his initial shock at seeing her had worn off. But he still held her tightly, unwilling to release her even for a moment.
“No words,” he mumbled. “Why?”
She pretended to pout. “But I told you so much. I told you everything!”
He closed his eyes. “So tell me now. Let me sleep to the sound of your delicious voice.”
“We’ve not seen each other in months and now you want to sleep?”
He peeped an eye open. “That is all I can do at the moment. If you’
ve something else in mind, which I suspect you do, then it will have to wait. I’ve not the strength and I doubt my body could take the glorious excitement. In my state, it might very well kill me.” He gave her a half-grin. “I always thought I would die with a sword in my hand, but given a choice…”
She shook her head at his remark. “I haven’t the strength, either. Besides, I cannot do what you are suggesting for a few weeks yet. I must heal.”
Both eyes opened and he peered at her seriously. “Heal from what? What is wrong?”
She kissed him again, still grinning. Her kiss was enough to liquefy his mind, enlighten his soul, until nothing else but her sweetness existed. When she pulled away, he groaned from disappointment. He tried to pull her back down to him again but she put a finger to his lips.
“Nothing is wrong,” she whispered. “But the birth of your daughter yesterday morning has rendered me somewhat feeble. Nothing that time will not heal.”
Cullen’s face turned an ashen shade of white; he was already pale, but now he looked positively ghostly. “My… my daughter?”
“I named her Holly, after the plant with the bright red berries. They are all around Rockingham, mayhap the only thing of brightness I have seen since my stay there.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “Teddy, my daughter?”
She laughed at his surprise. “She was born a bit before her time, but Chad says she is healthy and strong.”
“Chad?” he repeated, dazed. “He… he’s seen her?”
“He helped me to deliver her,” Teodora said, but Cullen continued to look completely bewildered. “We were secluded at Rockingham together, as I said, which is how we met. He heard me speak of nothing but you for months, but I never mentioned your name. He did not realize that he knew you. He was with me every minute of Holly’s birth. He is a true friend, Cullen.”
Cullen’s mind was whirling. “He is a good man,” he muttered, but his thoughts were drawn away from Chadwick and back to his child. “Christ… I have a daughter?”
“Aye,” she smiled. “Are you not pleased?”
He pulled her close. His lips nibbled her cheeks, her forehead, and his tenderness brought tears to Teodora’s eyes once again. “Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I would have a child,” he murmured. “Thank you, Teddy. I… I am only sorry that I was not there for you when you needed me.”
She bit back the sobs. “If you only knew how much I missed you, how I longed for you. I’ve never known such anguish.”
They held each other close. A thousand questions swirled through Cullen’s mind, but he had not the strength to voice them. This day had already brought far more excitement than he could reasonably handle. He was deathly ill and his energy was sapped, but it was strange how the agony of his wounds left him as Teodora lay warm and alive in his arms, and he knew, at that moment, that no matter how ill he was, he would live. Nothing on this Earth would ever again keep him from Teodora and their baby.
“Teddy?” he mumbled into her hair.
“Aye, love?” He didn’t say anything for a moment and she looked up at him. “What is it, Cullen?”
His arms seemed to go about her more tightly. “I just want you to know,” he whispered. “In all of this time we have been separated, there was never… I never… when I said semper fidelis, I meant it. Dead or alive, my heart and soul and body belong only to you.”
Her eyes glistened and her smile widened. She knew he wasn’t asking the same of her, but she was very proud to tell him the truth.
“As do mine to you, forever,” she murmured. “There was never a question.”
He slept then.
Rockingham Castle
The interior corridor leading from the kitchens to the foyer of Rockingham’s keep was lined with flaming, smoking torches. Barric, with a group of soldiers trailing him, carried the swaddled baby in his arms, screaming like a banshee.
“Somebody send to town for the wet nurse!” he bellowed over the wailing. “It surely will not do for me to smother this child for a little peace and quiet!”
Sean, who had been directly behind Barric, turned on his heel and was gone. In fact, he’d been following Barric around since he’d returned from the outlaw village yesterday because Barric was in possession of Lady Barklestone’s infant, which disturbed him greatly. The idea of that tiny baby at the mercy of Barric and John rocked his conscience more than he was willing to admit.
But Barric had no use for Sean and his suddenly solicitous presence. The man had been unusually attentive to him since the end of the battle yesterday, offering to take the baby from him more than once, and Barric didn’t like it in the least. As Sean headed off, Barric irritably ordered the remaining soldier escort to disperse and go about their duties. With the king still occupied with not one but now two serving women, as he had been since yesterday, Barric planned to await Lady Barklestone in the warm, fragrant solar. She’d been missing for over a day, but he knew she wouldn’t stay away much longer, no matter where she was. Soon, she would receive the news that her child had been confiscated and he eagerly anticipated her arrival.
Now without de Lara or his soldiers, Barric was nearing the foyer as the baby continued to scream in his arms. A few of the torches lining this section of the corridor were out, making the hall dim and full of shadows. Behind Barric, a figure suddenly emerged from the darkness and a blade poked him in the back. Barric froze, more from curiosity than fear. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Sloan emerge from a recessed doorway, holding the hilt of the broadsword that was aimed at Barric’s spine.
Sloan didn’t harbor the expression of a pleased man. In fact, he looked rather hateful. A great purple lump rose from the side of his head and his pallor was pale. Still, he seemed quite steady on his feet as he glowered at the Lord Justice.
“The next time you have one of your men hit someone over the head, you’d better make sure your victim is sufficiently dead,” he growled. He poked Barric with the sword. “Give me the child.”
Barric rolled his eyes. He could hardly believe his stroke of luck. “Mayhap, I should have stabbed you rather than hit you over the head. I shall not make the same mistake again.”
Sloan snarled. “Shut your lips. Give me the baby or I shall skewer you.”
“How can I hand you this baby with a sword in my back?”
“Turn about slowly and extend her,” Sloan said. “Do it now!”
He pressed the sharp tip of the blade into Barric’s skin, drawing blood. The Lord Justice started at the pain but dutifully turned about and glared at Sloan.
“I will tell the king of this,” he growled. “You will be in a good deal of trouble!”
Sloan smiled thinly. “The baby, if you please.”
Barric extended the fussing infant. Cautiously, Sloan extended his arm and awkwardly took the child. Both men knew there would not be any physical altercation due to the fact that the delicate child could easily be killed in the melee. And little Holly was too precious a prize to waste.
“Now,” Sloan said as he tipped his head in the direction of the nearest door. “Inside.”
Barric was outraged. “Inside there? But…”
Sloan jabbed him in the gut and Barric roared. “All right, as you say!” He grumbled and cursed as he entered the small, smelly chamber. “Sloan de la Roarke, mark my words. If I ever see you again, I shall cut your…”
Sloan slammed the door, barring it from the outside by using a burned-out torch. The hilt was wedged into the latch, rendering it impossible to open from the inside. With a gleeful smirk, he raced off into the darkness, leaving Barric Fitz Hammond a prisoner in his own personal privy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The Outlaw Encampment
Later that night
Bradford and Anthony stood near the fire, warming themselves. The evening was cold and damp, with dirty snow still covering the ground. Owen joined them, making small conversation even though all of their thoughts and attentions wer
e focused on the small hut several feet away.
Chadwick had long since joined them, his mood morose though no one could seem to understand why. Everyone thought he would have been very pleased to reunite the lovers but, apparently, there were other problems weighing on his mind.
No one had the nerve to ask.
A deep, dark night descended, a chilling winter’s night. The only light was that of the fire, burning brightly in a futile attempt to keep the men warm. Chadwick sat back from the rest of them, pondering thoughts that were best kept to himself. Owen, being the natural peacemaker, finally sought to ease the tension.
“Monty will heal now that his wife has come,” he said hopefully. “I understand he is awake.”
Chadwick didn’t respond. When he finally looked at Owen, it was with a guarded expression. “Aye, he’s awake.”
“This does not please you?”
Chadwick shrugged. “He is not healed, not in the least.”
Delaine and Dessa brought around two big jugs of wine, good wine stolen from a fine tavern in Isham. Delaine handed one to her husband, while Dessa timidly extended the other to Chadwick. He glanced up at the small woman, noting that the firelight made her look rather comely, before finally taking it.
“Drink hearty, my lord physic,” Owen said, taking a healthy swig. “We must toast Monty’s recovery.”
Chadwick drank. And drank. While Owen, Bradford and Anthony shared one jug, Chadwick selfishly hoarded the other. He was being rude and didn’t care. At the moment, he was indulging his self-pity. He had lost Teodora completely and even though he was glad that she and Cullen were reunited, still, it was difficult. He couldn’t help feel the bitter disappointment of it all.
Of a future lost.
Chadwick remembered well the feelings of jealousy he had experienced when they had embraced back in the hut, but there was no use dwelling on the inevitable. It was time to finally put it all behind him and find happiness in the reunion of two lovers. It made Teodora happy, anyway, and that was all that mattered to him. Taking one final gulp of wine, he set the jug aside.
Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 43