Age of Gods and Mortals

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “God, nay,” she wept as the tears flowed freely. “Please do not let this be your end, Tarran. I suffered through the death of Teague, but it is because you were there. Had you not been there, I would have gone mad. I would have destroyed myself with agony, but you held me steady. I never told you that and I am so sorry I did not, but please know how much you held me together. Were it not for you, I do not think I would have survived.”

  More quivering and twitching from Tarran. His breathing was deep, unsteady at times. Tresta held on tightly to the man as if that action alone could keep death from claiming him. But it was a foolish hope. She knew, in the end, that death came for them all. She couldn’t stop it and that knowledge broke her into a thousand pieces of pain.

  She wasn’t ready to give up, yet she knew there was little choice.

  “Do you feel me?” she sobbed. “Do you feel me holding you, Tarran? I was not there when Teague passed and I have always regretted that. You know this. I was not there to give him comfort and he died alone, in that cold sea, but you… if this is your time, I will not let you go alone. I will be with you until you pass, but before you do, I must tell you what is in my heart. I did not even know myself until that day in the stables when you told me of your feelings. You were brave enough to speak of them and I was not. I am sorry that I was not, so hear me now. You are part of this family, as surely as the stars are part of the sky. You took a family broken by grief and you held us together, giving us something strong to cling to. I know that was not fair to you, but you are a selfless and loving man. You gave of yourself when you could have just as easily left us alone. I love Teague and I always will. He will always be part of my heart and soul, but my love for him is like a warm memory now. It is something to be reflected on and cherished. But you…”

  She trailed off, listening to the fire in the hearth snap. His unsteady breathing had eased quite a bit, as had his twitching, and she held on as tightly as she could, thinking he was about to depart his mortal vessel and slip into the heavens. Closing her eyes, she could hear his slow, steady breathing in her ear.

  “How could I not love you?” she whispered as tears streamed onto his chest. “How could I not love a man who would tolerate a grief-stricken woman and her devastated children? You gave yourself over to a family that was not your own, to a woman who was not your wife, and you did it with grace and kindness. My children were twice blessed – once with their father and once with you. They were fortunate enough to have two of the finest men in England as their mentors and guides, and I was fortunate enough to have your friendship, your camaraderie, and your affection. I never considered myself more fortunate than I do now. But if this is truly the end, know that you made a difference in my life and in the lives of my children. We love you and we are so sad to lose you, but we will not crumble. You showed us how to live through grief with dignity and if I had just one more day with you, I would ask you to marry me. I was told once that if I had the opportunity for happiness, I should take it. I am sorry that I took it too late.”

  The sobs came then. His breathing was growing more and more quiet, but it was steady. Surprisingly steady. Tresta still held fast, waiting for that breathing to end, hating herself for never saying those things to Tarran while he was able to understand them. The man had been her rock and he never knew it. At least, she had never told him to his face.

  And now, it was too late.

  She wasn’t sure how she was going to ever overcome the guilt.

  “I accept.”

  Tresta’s eyes flew open. Her head lifted like a shot and she looked around the chamber to see if someone else had spoken those words, but her gaze fell on Tarran’s swollen features only to see that his left eye was open and looking at her.

  He was awake.

  She shrieked.

  “Tarran!”

  His enormous hands came up, grasping at her weakly as she leaned forward, taking a closer look at him.

  “You have awakened!” she gasped. “The physic said that… oh, never mind what he said. You have awakened! How do you feel?”

  He blinked his good eye. His other eye was still swollen, but the swelling had gone down significantly. “I’m not sure,” he said haltingly. “What happened?”

  Tresta put a soothing hand on his forehead, smoothing his hair back. “The horses spooked and Arion slammed you into the stable wall,” he said. “Do you remember any of it?”

  He groaned softly, closing his eye for a moment. “I… I think so,” he said. “Muet is afraid of Arion. I was trying to get Arion out of the stable when… I do not remember more than that.”

  Her gentle hand moved to his cheek. “You went in face-first,” she said, a dull twinkle in her eyes. “You are still a beauteous lad, but now half of your face is a lovely shade of blue and green.”

  “My head is throbbing.”

  “You have quite a lump. The physic thinks you have broken some bones in your face, but nothing that will not heal with time.”

  “Tarran!”

  Hallam had just entered the chamber to hear Tarran’s mumbled words and he rushed to the man’s bedside, his features alive with surprise.

  “God’s bones, you’re awake!” he said with glee. “Praise Christ and his saints. ’Tis a miracle!”

  Tresta smiled at Hallam’s enthusiasm. “My brother was very worried for you,” she told Tarran. “We were all worried for you.”

  Tarran licked his lips. “I am thirsty,” he said hoarsely. “May I have something to drink?”

  Hallam was off, shouting for the servants. They could hear the entire keep coming alive as Hallam shouted the fact that Tarran was awake. More people were shouting and, outside, they could hear the soldiers pick up the cry. However, somewhere in the keep, they heard Rhys scream and Tresta laughed softly.

  “I will keep them off of you as best I can,” she said. “The boys were so worried for you, Bas most of all. He came in every night to talk to you.”

  Tarran sighed faintly, reaching up a big hand to weakly cup her face. Tresta gripped it, holding it firmly against her cheek and trying not to weep at the sheer joy of it. His touch said a thousand words that his lips couldn’t seem to bring forth. At least, for the moment. There was a magic to his touch she couldn’t begin to describe, like the first touch of a future she never thought she would know.

  A future with Tarran.

  “Before the stampeding herd comes, we will settle something,” he mumbled. “Did you hear my answer?”

  “What answer?”

  “I told you that I accept your marriage proposal.”

  “You heard that?”

  “I did,” he said, caressing her cheek gently. “I heard a great deal. I was dreaming about… something. I’m not even sure what it was. I was in a church and I thought I saw Teague, but he waved to me and was quickly gone. Then, I heard you speaking. I followed the sound of your voice and I heard, very clearly, when you asked me to marry you. Do not deny it for it would be a lie.”

  Tresta leaned over him, her hair brushing against him face as she kissed him tenderly on the cheek. “I will not deny it, for it is true,” she said. “I am sorry I never told you everything that was in my heart. I was… confused. Confused because I still love Teague. I always will. But he is gone and I understand that. It does not mean there is not enough room in my heart for you. I would be lost without you, Tarran. Lost and shattered.”

  He smiled faintly, as much as his bruised face would allow. “Not half as lost and shattered as I would be without you,” he murmured. “I love you, Tresta. I always have. Mayhap now… now is our time.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Do you still feel some doubt?”

  She shrugged. “It is difficult to let go of Teague completely.”

  “You do not have to until you are ready,” he said. “I do not want a ghost sharing our marital bed, so only when you are ready.”

  She smiled, turning to kiss his palm. “I am ready to move on,” she said. “I am ready to
bid a fond and loving farewell to Teague, but it may take a little time. And practice. Surely you can help me with it.”

  “As much as you want me to,” he whispered. “They say that love heals all things. Let my love help heal you, Tresta. Let me show you that our life together will be something wonderful and true, something I believe Teague would want us both to have.”

  Tresta nodded. “I believe that, too.”

  His smile broadened as his other hand came up, cupping her face and pulling her down to his mouth for a very sweet, very careful kiss. He was so bruised that he couldn’t do much more than give her a simple kiss, but it was only a foretaste of what was to come. He would spend the rest of his life kissing her beautiful lips and he was looking forward to every single one of them.

  Rhys and Jasper rushed into the chamber, breaking up their tender moment, but Tarran didn’t care. He loved the boys as if they were his own, so their presence only made things sweeter. Life itself was sweeter. The surly, aloof knight who had spent almost ten years of his life fighting his feelings for his liege’s wife had become the savior of the entire family. As Tresta said, he was family. He always had been and always would be.

  In July of that same year, exactly one year after Teague and his men had departed Snow Hill Castle to follow King Richard on his quest, Tarran du Reims married Tresta d’Mearc and began a new life for them both.

  In an age of gods and mortals, in this case, the mortals had won.

  Tarran and Tresta was a love story for the ages.

  EPILOGUE

  Snow Hill Castle

  Three years later

  It was early in the morning, just before daybreak, the time of day that Tarran loved best. He could feel his wife sleeping next to him, warm and cozy, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the boys were awake and invading their chamber.

  The day was upon them.

  As he carefully moved to get out of bed, Tresta woke when his warm body moved away from her and she groaned as her heat source was removed.

  “Where are you going?” she asked sleepily.

  He kissed her and moved to sit up. “I must find my clothes,” he whispered, spying his breeches on the floor where he’d left them. “I’m without a stitch on and so are you. The boys will be here any moment, so mayhap you should find your shift.”

  Tresta blinked, rubbing her eyes as she looked around. The clothes had come off last night in the heat of passion, which wasn’t unusual with them. It had happened more times than she could count. But Tarran was correct; she was stark naked. She sat up, her arms covering her engorged, beautiful breasts that were located just above her equally engorged belly. At six months pregnant with her sixth baby and Tarran’s second child, she was round and rosy.

  “God’s bones,” she hissed. “I do not seem to move very quickly these days. Can you hand me my shift?”

  Tarran was fighting off a grin as she struggled to get out of bed. He came around the side of the bed and picked up her shift, handing it to her, but there seemed to be something criminal about covering up her gorgeous breasts. He forgot himself for a moment, burying his face in the delightful cleavage and pushing her back on the bed. She gasped, giggled, then groaned softly as he suckled gently on a peaked nipple.

  “Tarran, not now,” she gasped, her face in the top of his head. “The boys will soon be here and they cannot catch us in such a tryst.”

  He knew that but he didn’t seem to care. He lay on the bed beside her, kissing her lips as his fingers played with the nipple. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Actually, I am not sorry. Any moment I spend with you is the best moment of my life. Besides, we are to be separated for a few weeks and I cannot stand the thought of it.”

  Tresta stroked his face, quickly feeling hot as he played with her nipple. She couldn’t stand the thought of their separation, either. It wasn’t so much a want for the man but a need; she needed the man more than she could comprehend. Her body craved him, evidenced by her second pregnancy in three years.

  They couldn’t get enough of each other.

  Throwing caution to the wind, her lips slanted over his, her tongue plunging into his mouth. Since her belly was large, making love the usual way had its challenges, so she climbed on top of him, straddling his belly as she ferociously kissed him.

  Tarran could feel her naked body against him, her wet heat rubbing against his belly, and it drove him mad. He was drunk with the scent of her, his hands on her gently swollen belly, feeling the result of what he’d put into her. Nothing aroused him more than the feel of her pregnant belly and when his hands finally moved to the junction between her legs, he thrust a finger into her, listening to her groan into his mouth as she pushed her pelvis against his finger. Tarran groaned softly in return, wildly aroused by this woman he could not live without, and he removed his hand so he could lift her onto his erection. He could feel her warm tightness as she slid down over him, accepting his body into hers.

  Tresta drew away from his mouth as she sat up, taking his hands and placing them on her breasts and belly as she began to ride him. She rolled her hips forward and plunged down on him again and again as he fondled her breasts. She watched him as she made love to him, basking in the power of the love between them, when he suddenly sat up and pulled her against him, suckling her nipples. With her big belly between them, it made for an intimate and cozy act, and Tresta was so highly aroused that in little time, she was climaxing as Tarran used his hips to thrust himself deep.

  Feeling her climax, Tarran responded by releasing himself deep into her body, taking the greatest of pleasure with it. Tresta was boneless from her powerful climax so he eased her back onto the mattress, still joined to her, but making sure to keep his weight off of her blossoming belly. He continued to thrust gently, feeling her multiple orgasms that ended up reducing her to a quivering shell. Her entire body was throbbing against him and his hips moved slowly, deliciously, as the tremors eventually died away.

  They remained joined together as he leaned forward, kissing her breasts, her shoulders, running a hand over that swollen belly that drew his hand like a moth to a flame. He kissed her neck, the swell of her breasts, and eventually a soft nipple. When he suckled her tenderly, she put up a hand to stop him.

  “Nay,” she whispered. “Not again. The children will be here any moment.”

  He grinned at her. “I know,” he said. “But this is my joy. You are my joy.”

  She smiled, running her hand through his dark hair. “And you are mine,” she whispered, “but I do not want the boys to see us this way. Please, Tarran.”

  He knew she was right. Sometimes they let their lust get the better of them, but there was something so completely overwhelming about their feelings for one another that it seemed to block out all else. Tarran sighed in disappointment as he withdrew his body from hers and went in search of the shift he’d tossed off somewhere. He found it at the foot of the bed and helped her pull it over her head.

  Taking her by the hands, he pulled her out of bed and when she was steady on her feet, he pulled her shift all the way to the ground because she couldn’t bend over very well these days. The child in her belly was quite large already, something that puffed Tarran up with a great deal of pride. A beautiful wife, a healthy family, and he couldn’t have been happier. Marrying Tresta d’Mearc du Reims was everything he’d ever thought it would be and sometimes he still had trouble believing this was his life.

  The best life a man could ask for.

  Finished helping her with her shift, Tarran had just pulled his breeches on when there was a knock on the door, which promptly flew open without an invitation. Rhys and Jasper stormed in with a toddler between them in two-year-old Thaddeus du Reims. In truth, it was the toddler doing the storming, a lad who was his father’s clone all the way down to the cleft in his chin. Tad, as he was called, was very intelligent, and very vocal, and his older brothers adored him. When they made snow castles in the winter, it was Tad who kicked down the towers and loved eve
ry minute of it.

  Tarran pushed through the crowd of children clamoring around Tresta until Rhys suddenly ran at him, stopping him before he could get out of the door.

  “When are you leaving?” he demanded.

  Rhys had grown up a great deal in the past three years. Now eight years of age, he was a very big boy. He was slated to leave for Chepstow to foster with Sebastian and Gabriel, who had been sent there about the time Tarran and Tresta married. It was decided that they needed to finish their education and, by all reports, Sebastian had matured a great deal and was well on his way to becoming an excellent lord. Tarran couldn’t have been prouder of the boy.

  He knew Teague would have been, as well.

  But he also missed him, and Gabriel, and the thought of Rhys going off to foster made him want to weep like an old fishwife. It didn’t matter that Teague had fathered Rhys or his brothers. Tarran had loved them as his own since before he married their mother. He’d been family for that long and longer still, something that no longer pained him to think about. In fact, he cherished it.

  Family.

  It was the only thing that truly mattered to him.

  “I am leaving today,” he said in answer to the lad’s question. “I shall return in a few weeks.”

  “Can’t I go?” Rhys begged.

  Tarran smiled at the boy, but he shook his head. “You are the eldest son at Snow Hill these days,” he said. “I need for you and Uncle Hallam to watch over your mother while I am away. It is important, Rhys.”

  Rhys wasn’t happy about remaining behind when there was an adventure to be had. “I suppose,” he said, frowning. “But why must you be away so long?”

  “Because it is a long way to East Anglia,” Tarran said. “I must visit my own father, who has fallen ill, but I will return in time for the birth of your newest brother, I promise.”

  Rhys didn’t care about that. He only cared that he wasn’t able to go along. Dejected, he left the chamber, followed by Jasper, who was so attached to his mother that he wouldn’t dare ask to go along with Tarran and risk being separated from her. As he followed Rhys from the chamber, Tresta pulled on a heavy robe and picked Tad up, holding the boy on her hip as she went to the door.