Everlasting

by Charlene Cross

  “Yes, obviously.”

  From behind her, Paxton’s hands settled on her shoulders. His touch was light yet reassuring; Alana sighed. Gwenifer’s beauty masked the ugliness growing within her. Alana could only imagine the depths of her cousin’s hatred toward her for Gwenifer to do and to say what she did. Certainly she had fooled Alana. Thankfully she didn’t fool Rhys.

  “Why did you come here, Uncle?” she asked, putting thoughts of Gwenifer aside. “You told me that you had disowned me.”

  “I couldn’t let you die for killing Gilbert when it was my hand that plunged the knife. That doesn’t mean I have forgiven you for marrying another Norman.” Rhys’s gaze raked Paxton up and down. “Though I’ll admit, of the two, he is the better.”

  “I think so—definitely,” Alana said, gazing up at her husband. His love for her shone through his eyes. Never had she felt this happy, this cherished. The feeling was like no other.

  “Well, Norman, are you coming back to Cymru with us?” Rhys asked.

  “’Tis Alana’s home and now my home,” Paxton stated. “Yes, I’m heading back to Cymru.”

  “Then let’s be on our way,” her uncle announced.

  Madoc, Sir Graham, Aldwyn, Rhys and his sons exited the tent, Alana and Paxton following. When they stepped outside they heard the makeshift gallows that was hastily raised from tent poles, a cart serving as its base, come crashing down.

  Alana looked at Paxton. “He really meant to hang us, didn’t he?”

  “Aye, because of your stubbornness he did.”

  “You were equally stubborn, sir, hounding him as you had. Calling your king a fool—what did you hope to accomplish?”

  “One way or the other, you were not going to leave me, Alana of Llangollen. Those dark Welsh eyes of yours captivated me from the first time I looked into them. Do you think I could bear to see the light perish in their depths? Nay. I would have fought the angels of Heaven and the demons of Hell to keep you beside me. And if that also meant my death, I would have gladly faced and accepted it just so we could be together always.”

  Alana’s heart thrilled to his words. “You love me that much do you?”

  He looped his arms around her. “Aye… through eternity, and beyond.”

  “Though I never would have believed it possible, I love you equally as much”—she winked—“Norman.”

  Paxton chuckled. “It does seem hard to believe—first enemies, now lovers.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Tell me something, Wife. Why did you really run from me that day in the glade?”

  Alana gazed up at him through her lashes. “Must I?” she asked, while plucking at the front of his tunic.

  Paxton nodded. “Yes, you must.”

  She sighed. “Well, after we made love, I discovered I was falling in love with you. The realization scared me so badly all I could think to do was run.”

  Full laughter rumbled from his chest. “Let’s go home, Alana,” he said, urging her toward their tent so they could gather their belongings. “’Tis there I’ll teach you that you have nothing to fear from me.”

  “Do you swear that is so?”

  “I swear.”

  At that moment, the rays from the setting sun burst across the sky in an aura of light to paint the clouds that streaked the horizon in brilliant golds and vivid oranges.

  “Oh, look, Paxton,” she said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Aye,” he returned, viewing the magnificent spectacle of nature, his arm around Alana’s shoulder. “But tomorrow’s sunrise will fascinate me even more.”

  “How so?”

  “It will mark the commencement of all the glorious days that lie ahead of us, Alana. Right now, it seems too far away.”

  She understood what he meant. For with the setting of this day’s sun, all the deception, all the uncertainties, all the strife, all the fears that once plagued them would vanish along with the dimming light.

  And tomorrow, by way of the daybreak, came the promise of a new beginning for Paxton and for her, one filled with love and trust and devotion that would last through time everlasting.

  Alana could hardly wait for the coming of the dawn.

  EPILOGUE

  Northern Wales

  Autumn 1157

  A hawk soared through an azure blue sky, searching diligently for its prey.

  On the bluff overlooking the river that snaked alongside the old Norman fortress stood its overlord. From behind, he embraced his lady just beneath her full breasts and above her expanding stomach. In silence, they watched the graceful bird that was not part of the castle mews, its freedom ever assured.

  “He’s beautiful,” Alana said.

  “He might be a she,” Paxton countered, his hand caressing her belly.

  “I was speaking of the hawk.”

  “And I was referring to our child… you know, the one you said we would never have.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “Yes, you were. You should have been more trusting when I told you that you weren’t barren. It simply took the right man to make certain you conceived.”

  She smiled up at him. “Apparently so, and he has done a fine job of it. Your seed took from the first.”

  “I told you it did.”

  “And I nearly ruined it for all of us,” she said.

  “Don’t think about what might have been, Alana. Only about what is. We are alive and so is our child. That is all that matters.”

  “Aye, you’re right.” She was silent for a bit. “I heard from Rhys yesterday by way of messenger. He says they are all well. He sends me good wishes.”

  “I’m not included in those, I suppose.”

  “Give him time. It took a lot for him to admit you are better than my first husband, considering your heritage.”

  “How kind of him to see that… since I’m Norman, I mean.” He released a long breath. “At least he was there when he was needed most.”

  “And he’ll come to our aid again if the need should arise. Besides, those here hail you as a hero. You saved my life by risking your own. When they learned such, they were most pleased and are now forever beholden to you.”

  “As they should be,” Paxton stated. “I am after all their overlord.”

  For a moment there was silence.

  “How is Dylan?” Paxton asked. “Has Rhys finally forgiven him?”

  “Their relationship is still not as amicable as it once was, but things are slowly getting better. Dylan has promised to come visit us. I hear he is building his own hut at the ringwork in anticipation of one day taking a wife.”

  “It will be good to see him again. Of all those across the river, I like him the best.”

  “’Tis the same with me.”

  “Imagine, sweet,” he said, sweeping his hand before him, gesturing toward the land. “All this is ours. And it will one day be our son’s, and his son’s, and so on.”

  “In Wales, the sons share in their inheritance. If there are no sons, then the daughters inherit.”

  “And we are in Wales, aren’t we?”

  “Cymru, actually.”

  “Which means we must act accordingly, correct?”

  “Yes, it does.” She paused, then nodded at the valley below them. “Is this the reason you married me… to have yourself a fiefdom?”

  “’Twas part of the reason, but only the smallest measure, I assure you.”

  “And what was the greatest measure?”

  “You, sweet.”

  “You really expect me to believe that, don’t you?”

  He turned her around to face him. “I do.” He smiled engagingly as he drew her closer. “Which reminds me. I have always wanted to make love to you here, high on this bluff. What do you say? Will you allow it, this time?”

  Alana blinked. “In broad daylight, so all the world can see.”

  “No one will see,” he said, his mouth growing ever closer to hers. “Trust me.”

  Their warm breaths mingling, Alana answered with all the sure
ness in her heart, “Always, my valiant Norman knight. Always.”

  JOAN BRAMSCH

  CHARLENE CROSS is the award-winning author of Lord of Legend, Deeper Than Roses, A Heart So Innocent, Masque of Enchantment, Almost a Whisper, and Splendor.

  “In my early childhood,” Charlene says, “dragons, knights, and princesses filled my hours of daytime play, my nights of blissful slumber. I was a dreamer, a champion for the underdog, a believer that good always triumphed over evil. Adulthood hasn’t tarnished those beliefs. Although I’m very much a realist, I am equally a romantic. I still need to believe in those magical words: ‘And they lived happily ever after.’ As a writer, I hope my characters will capture your heart and make you a believer as well. If, as you read, a smile touches your lips or a tear comes to your eye, please let me know. Only then will I discover if I’ve succeeded in my quest.”

  Charlene resides in Missouri’s picturesque wine country with her husband, Ron — her real-life hero — and their three children. She is currently at work on her next historical romance, to be published soon by Pocket Books. She welcomes your comments, and you may write to her at: 37 Ladera Lane Washington, MO 63090

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