by Amy Mullen
"But how? How do you know you love me? What is love anyway? I fear I do not know for sure."
"Love, sweet Rayne, is not just a feeling, but a way of living. It is something you never needed until it found you, and then it is all you live for. Love is walking into a room and hoping to see the one you love, and feeling empty when you do not. Love is waking up in the morning and instead of thinking of yourself, you think of the one you love."
"Then I do love you, Andre."
"Love, my dearest woman, is not knowing what you have been living for until the moment love hits you. When it does, you realize why you have done everything in your life up until that point. It is a destination unknown, but when you find it, you knew it was where you were meant to be."
"Love then, Andre, is you."
His face softened as he finally heard her words. He reached out with a hand and touched hers. "What has changed?"
"I was rash. I was tired, overwhelmed, and I was beyond thinking anything good could happen to me. I thought strength meant walking away from love. I realize now it means accepting it, giving in to it, trusting it. I can only stumble through this in my own way."
She continued without giving him time to respond. "In my haste and horror as I learned my children lived, and then the elation that followed, I began to blame you. Why, I do not know. Mayhap I thought if you truly cared for me, you would give me time to sort it out. You were an easy target, and I was wrong in willingly believing you would keep my children from me. You do not deserve anything but truth and happiness."
"I am grateful for your words, milady, but there is one more thing we must discuss before we go any further. I must know you understand something about yourself. Do you now understand your worth to me? Do you understand that even before we knew the boys were yours that you meant something to them? What can I do to make you see yourself as we do?"
"I'm not worthless," she said after a long pause.
"You never have been, do you see that now?" Andre took her other hand in his.
"I can have children. I do have children. They are my living, breathing miracles. I'm not a failure."
"Rayne, stop defining yourself by one thought. That was only a facet of your life, and you had no control over it. It was not a choice you made. It was made for you. Now, you know it wasn't even real."
"I feel like the last five years of my life were a lie."
"But you are not a lie, Rayne. You are a woman to be admired. There is more to you than being able to have children or being barren. I wish you could see what I see. Say it, Rayne. Say it. I want to hear you say it."
"What?" she asked, her lip quivering.
"Say that you are more than a reproductive vessel. You are worth more than that. Say you know it. Say that you deserve some happiness and peace. Say that you are worthy of being loved."
"The past is gone. Right now is the only thing that counts."
"Right now, and the future. What a great future you have Rayne, if you will just allow it in." Andre said as he released one of her hands and lightly stroked her cheek with his knuckle.
"Andre, do you truly mean it when you say you would have married me anyway?"
"I would have, and I would have been a lucky man."
"Because you think I am beautiful?"
"Aye that, but so much more. Geva was beautiful, but it meant little in the end. You are strong, and you are unwilling to give up, even when you are not sure what the end result will be. A lesser person would have died of a broken heart. You did not."
"I think I know that now."
"You think you do, or you do?"
"I do. I know it. I've been a silly mess, haven't I?
"Don't think of it like that. It's over now. You did not know what happened, and you had people pushing you down. Now, you are free from it, and you know the truth. That alone should give you the answer. I cannot."
"Do I deserve you, Andre? You have given much more than anyone else ever has, with the exception of Tillie, mayhap. You put up with so much from me and yet, I am still here."
"I am not a saint, my dear. I made mistakes with Geva I did not want to make with you. Do not think for a moment that I have it all figured out or that I knew what I was doing. I was plodding through this with the grace of a drunken bull. 'Tis I that should ask if I deserve you."
"Oh Andre, I feel this huge sense of relief. I feel like the sun has finally come out. The darkness is no longer so daunting. I feel as if life is most definitely worth living. I am not the worthless waste Claude made me out to be, and I never was."
Andre grinned broadly, but said nothing as he studied her face.
"What are you smiling about?"
"I think you finally get it."
Gripping his hand tightly she said, "I do."
"I am only going to ask you this once," he said, grabbing her other hand again and stepping closer, "Do you wish to honor your betrothal?"
"Aye, with all that I am, I wish to become your wife."
Instead of speaking, he pulled her into his arms. Gently, he placed his lips near hers and whispered, "We will share a lifetime of happiness so long as you trust in me."
"I do," she said in return. His lips touched hers softly as he leaned in further. The heat of his breath enveloped her as she opened her lips to return the kiss. Pulling her close, he kissed her with the passion of a dying man given a new chance at life. She pulled away reluctantly, her lips feeling swollen, her pulse racing anew, and happiness flowing through her. Everything about loving him felt right. She marveled in the new feeling because she never wanted to forget this moment.
He stepped back, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before giggles in the distance caught his attention.
"Aliza has sent the boys up the hill. They carry a basket, and they are struggling with it." Merriment danced in his eyes as he watched them.
"Goodness, go help them," she said as she waved to Aliza. The nursemaid returned the wave and went on her way.
"Mum!" Hamon said when he topped the hill. Rayne's heart soared. Tears flooded her vision as she fell to her knees. She opened her arms, and he raced to fill them.
"We took all of the food in the kitchen for the picnic!" Hamon said excitedly. "Cook told me so!"
"Indeed?"
Jenri watched the hug. Andre opened the basket to inspect the offerings.
Letting out a chuckle, Andre spoke, "I see you helped pack too."
Rayne peered into the basket and had to laugh too. The food was indeed a mismatch of all things she suspected Hamon and Jenri liked the most.
A tap on her shoulder brought her attention around to Jenri. He was standing behind her. Pivoting, she swung around and bent to greet him. "Aye, Jenri, are you ready to eat?"
"Happy you are my mum," he said. The words were again awkward, but the meaning was clear. His voice was as sweet as she had imagined it to be.
It was indeed a day she would never forget. Tearfully, she swept the young boy into her arms. She held him close, his blond curls were tickling her nose, and she cried. His chubby arms went around her neck and she knew. All the wrongs of the past were gone.
She faced Andre, with Jenri still hugging her tightly. Hamon was in his arms, chewing on a tart with a smear of jam on his cheek.
It was all worth it. The pain of the past became a blur. Without it, she would not be standing where she was, with everything she could ever want.
About the Author
Amy Mullen is a freelance writer and romance author living in Corning, NY, with her husband, Patrick, her two children, and an orange cat named Steve. She is the author of two books, A Stormy Knight, and her latest release, Redefining Rayne.
Amy has been writing about love both lost and regained since she was old enough to have her first broken heart. Her love of history and her intermittent jaunts into amateur genealogy led her to a love affair with writing historical fiction. When not writing, she snaps pictures, enjoys the company of her children, and when time allows, loves to bur
y her nose in a good book.
She can be found online at www.authoramymullen.com or www.facebook.com/authoramymullen.
Also from Astraea Press
Prologue
England, Spring 1151
She dashed down the slope along the outer curtain wall, pulling her dark, heavy cloak snugly around her slender shoulders. It was late, and she worried the abnormally bright moon would give her away. Using care, she stepped lightly. The sounds of boot scuffles and a hoarse, bawdy laugh echoed off the stone walls around her. Her father's men were on watch atop the wall.
Cautiously, she darted among the trees in the orchard, each blessedly full with the new leaves of spring, until she came to the secret tunnel which ran under the curtain wall and out into a small, wooded spot outside the security of the castle. She prayed Nicholas was waiting for her. He never let her down.
Twelve year old Gemma entered the dark, dank passageway and took a deep breath. Mustering all the courage she could, she ran. She carried no candle or torch, so she counted the steps as she went. Her heart raced and her lungs threatened to burst. Each step brought her closer to fresh air and to his waiting arms.
She slowed down as she came out of the end of the tunnel, feeling a little shaken after going under the heavy, stone wall and then the moat. The moon again illuminated the night for her. The woods around her were bathed in magnificent streaks of silver that filtered through the leaves and landed softly on the landscape before her.
Stepping carefully once more, she inhaled the scents of spring and shook off the darkness. She moved with purpose toward the meeting spot, trembling in anticipation. Gemma lived for these moments and longed to declare her love for him yet again as he shyly held her hand and offered her quick, chaste kisses. Her father wanted her to marry someone powerful from the nearby Bigod family, but she only wanted Nicholas.
She picked a twig out of her long, brown hair after she climbed atop a large, mossy boulder and she waited. They met when his family came to a wedding hosted at her home and instantly became friends. That friendship had evolved into something much more exciting, something that made her heart beat as if it were coming out of her chest. It had to be love. Putting a graceful hand up over her heart, she waited for him to arrive.
The leaves fluttered about in the soft, cool breezes of the night as she waited. Her homeland of England had been in disarray for quite some time, and like the lands around her, things were beginning to calm down. At her young age, her only pressing problem was Phillip Bigod. He was the man her father pushed as a suitable husband. Not only was he ten years her senior, he left her feeling cold. Phillip was outwardly polite and docile, but she sensed something was wrong with him.
Nicholas was late, or he was not coming at all. Gemma twisted around to see if she had missed him, but the night remained still. It was late and most were abed. She was fairly certain her parents were sleeping soundly as well. They had yet to catch on to her nighttime adventures outside of the castle, but she feared her good fortune would not hold out forever.
Gemma's green eyes popped wide open, and her heart lurched as a twig snapped somewhere in the woods behind her. She stood up and whirled around hoping to see Nicholas, but instead she saw nothing. There was no answer when she called out to him. Fear swept through her slight frame, and her hands began to shake. Squinting in the dark, she searched for signs of him or perhaps a wayward animal. Another deliberate snap told her she was not alone.
A breeze kicked up and she pulled her cloak tightly around her body once more. Her heart sank. Nicholas wasn't coming. He was never late, and she had been waiting for quite a while now. Another noise jolted her. She quickly spun around toward her home and dashed through the woods.
As she neared the tunnel, she stopped to look around one last time. Another noise caught her attention, and she peered back, only to come face to face with enormous, glowing eyes. She suppressed a scream as an owl screeched in retreat with a fury of violently flapping wings. Her heart thumped and tears streamed down her cheeks. Scrambling, she went into the tunnel entrance running faster than she had ever run.
One panicked thought ran all the way to the safety of her bed with her. What had happened to Nicholas?
Table of Contents
Redefining Rayne
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
About the Author
Also from Astraea Press