The expression remained as Stephen introduced them. “Lady Fellis Grayson, may I present Wynn ap Dafydd? And to you, sir, Lady Fellis.”
Realizing that he would only make things more difficult for Fellis if he gave himself away, Stephen took a step back from her.
Only then did that frown fade somewhat, and Stephen’s skills as a negotiator came to the fore. “I thank you for coming here this day.”
Wynn nodded, looking at the taller man with a shrug. “I felt it was the best thing to do. For my people.”
“Of course,” Stephen replied. “But that does not negate the wisdom of your decision.”
Wynn spoke then, his gaze direct on Stephen’s. “There is something I have need to say to you, and Lady Fellis.” He bowed to her before turning back to the knight. “I have heard of the events that took place in Glenmarket. Let me say that I am most aggrieved that you were attacked by one of my own people. Owain does not understand the importance of accepting what must be. He is cousin to my dead father and thinks to preserve the way of life he is accustomed to by living in the past. He has been disciplined for his actions.
“It was this incident that finally helped me decide to send the pact of truce to Lord Grayson. In truth some of my allies who opposed the idea came to see there was some merit in it. Glenmarket has been an island of peace for us heretofore. To have broken that peace was a mistake. Owain has no personal grudge against you, Sir Stephen. He simply resents you because of the message you brought to us. To attack you, a king’s messenger, for no other reason, was untenable.”
“There was no real harm done to me,” Stephen answered, “but I am thankful that others could see the recklessness of his action.”
Surely, Stephen told himself, it would help to ease Fellis’s fear to know that many of Wynn’s folk had condemned Owain’s unaggravated act of aggression. He looked to find her watching the Welshman with a thoughtful expression.
For some reason this did not please Stephen as much as it should have. Even as his stomach twisted inside him, Stephen told himself this was what he wanted for her. She should come to see Wynn as something other than an enemy, and eventually care for him if she was to know any happiness in the future.
But the sensation of jealousy did not leave him. Knowing he must not allow them to see his true feelings, the knight said, “Excuse me for a moment. If you will attend Lady Fellis, Wynn, I will see to the horses.” Before either could even answer, he took up the reins of both animals and led them away.
It took every ounce of Stephen’s will to do that, to go to the other side of the clearing and turn his back on the two of them. He clenched his hands tightly on the reins he held as he fought to keep from turning around to look at them.
Fellis watched Stephen walk away with an unconscious expression of bewilderment. She felt an unexpected sensation of abandonment.
But this was why Stephen had brought her here. To meet Wynn, the man who might end in being her husband.
She turned her attention to Wynn ap Dafydd, studying him even as he did her. Fellis felt no sense of discomfort as he did so. His expression was one of curiosity, as she knew hers must be. For the first time she realized he might be as curious about her as she was about him. Did they wed, he too, would be marrying a virtual stranger.
She’d listened with great interest while he spoke of his regret at what had happened at Glenmarket. It seemed that Wynn was not as narrow in his attitudes toward the English as she’d feared he might be. He appeared to be as conscientious in trying to do what was best for his people as she was.
Knowing this made her feel as though she had something in common with him. It was so very little on which to hope for any kind of relationship.
Fellis looked down at her hands, feeling decidedly awkward. What did one say to the man one might marry? Even as the thought passed through her mind, she glanced toward Stephen’s broad back, then wondered why she had done so.
At that moment Wynn laughed, drawing her attention back to him. “I am most happy to meet you, Lady Grayson,” he said slowly.
She answered him honestly in her agitation. “And I you, sir. Though I must admit to having been somewhat apprehensive.”
He nodded. “I appreciate your candor, my lady. I must ask your permission to be the same.”
She gave him a pensive glance. “Of course you may do so.”
He looked away from her, then back with a shrug. “I wish for you to know that though we have long been enemies, I will not hold that against you. For the purpose of these talks I would that you might forget that I have been yours. ’Tis the only hope we have of coming to know something of each other.”
Fellis once again found her gaze straying to Stephen, who seemed to be ignoring them. For some unknown reason this perturbed her. She answered Wynn without meeting his gaze. “I am willing to try and do as you ask. It seems…strange that we should live so close and never meet. And now we have come together for the purpose of…” She flushed, unable to say the words.
Wynn spoke directly. “Though it may be difficult to do so, I think it best if we are honest with each other about our opinions on why we are here. Truly, what think you of the English king’s decree?”
Fellis did not know how to reply. She looked up at him shyly.
“Come now,” he asked, “have you nothing to say?” Obviously Wynn was not as reticent as Fellis, and for that she supposed she should be grateful. ’Twould only be all the more difficult if he was as reserved as she.
Still he waited for a reply and hesitantly she answered sincerely. “I think, my lord, that in the end we may have to do as King Edward desires. There seems little chance of finding a way out.”
Wynn’s body tightened with unconcealed arrogance and pride, reminding her of a wild cat she had once seen in the forest. The sighting had been brief but had left a lasting impression of untamed power in her mind.
Gazing up at him, she found herself thinking he was quite a handsome man with his dark curls, hazel eyes and athletic build. He was not nearly so tall as Stephen, but she had to tilt her head back to look into his face and he moved with a confident, manly grace.
When the Welshman answered, his words further assured her of his confidence in himself. “That may be as you believe, my lady. But I do not feel constrained to do what your king wishes, if it does not please me to do so. He cannot force me to have a bride I do not want. I choose what I will and will not take to myself.”
“I…oh, of course,” she answered, stung by his heat. She drew herself up to her full height. “I understand. If I am displeasing to you..”
“Nay,” he interrupted impatiently, leaving her with no doubt of his sincerity. “’Tis naught to do with you. You are most pleasing to look upon. If one must have a woman of another’s choosing you will be no trouble to accept. I but mean that I must see the good of this for my own clansmen before I am willing to agree. Their well-being must always come before even my own. And your king’s. If ’twas not to the benefit of those I must have a care for, I would not have you were you the object of my devotion.”
With a stiff nod, Fellis fixed her gaze on the open collar of his brown tunic. “I see.”
His vehemence made her nervous. After all he was a stranger.
Seeming to sense her withdrawal, Wynn reached out and placed his hard hand over her clasped ones. “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you. I but wish for you to understand that I make decisions that will affect many. If in the end I cannot comply with the order I do not wish for you to feel that it is aught to do with you.”
As she felt his hand cover hers, Fellis knew a sense of comfort. But there was none of the fire that raced through her blood every time Stephen so much as touched her.
This gave her pause for thought. Obviously she was not the wanton she had told herself she was. There must be something about Stephen that caused her to react so, something that set him apart from other men and brought such passion rising to the surface when he was by.
&
nbsp; At that moment, the hair prickled on the back of her neck and she felt compelled to look around. As Fellis did so, she found Stephen’s dark gaze upon her and Wynn. His eyes seemed fixed on the Welshman’s hand covering hers.
As if aware of her attention, Stephen looked up and their eyes met. She was scorched by the possession and heat in his gaze. Her field of vision narrowed until everything faded around them. Wynn might as well have been a shadow for all that she was aware of him and his hand on hers.
Fellis’s chest tightened until she felt she couldn’t breathe, and from her deepest depths, she yearned for Stephen. Her heart hammered inside her. Why could it not be the English knight who stood here beside her, who held the right to take her hand in his?
Just as she felt as if her heart must surely burst, a noise intruded on her consciousness. Fellis looked about, confusion making her slow to understand where the sound was coming from.
At that moment a slender woman with a fall of tousled dark hair burst from the forest to her right. A surprised Fellis realized that she had seen this woman twice before at Glenmarket.
What really shocked her was the expression on the dark beauty’s face. Fellis had thought she’d seen hatred there before, but it was as nothing compared to the naked rage and loathing that burned in the brown eyes now.
Wynn reacted as though stung. He released Fellis’s hand as if it were suddenly offensive and stepped back several paces.
Fellis watched, bewildered, while Wynn looked to the new arrival with complete surprise and something akin to guilt on his face. He opened his mouth, closed it, then cleared his throat and tried again. “Ardeth.”
“Wynn,” she answered, now centering all her attention on the Welshman. It was as if neither of them could spare a thought for the other two. Their complete concentration was focused on each other.
She spoke, her eyes growing damp. “Did you think I would not discover that you were coming here this day?”
He cleared his throat again, looking as miserable as any man could. “Nay, Ardeth, I did not.”
The dark girl made an obvious effort to rally her dignity and failed, sounding more hurt than anything else. “My father does not approve of this meeting.”
Wynn looked as though he’d been slapped. “Owain has no say in this. ’Tis my choosing as leader of my people.”
Fellis near gasped aloud. So she was Owain’s daughter. No wonder Owain was angry if he felt she might displace his daughter.
As if remembering they were not alone, the Welshman glanced toward Fellis, then Stephen and back to Ardeth. He drew himself up, taking a deep breath. “I did not give it any thought,” he said more firmly. “You know I have my duty to see to and nothing will change that. Personal considerations have no place in these proceedings.”
Fellis felt her heart sink.
This also explained Stephen’s reticence in talking about the woman. He had known all along, and should have told her.
What was she to do? How could she face knowing she had taken Wynn from the woman who loved him? How could she allow herself to be the instrument of another’s pain?
But as she looked at Wynn and saw his set jaw, Fellis recalled the way he had answered the woman just now. How much could she mean to him if he meant to set her aside to marry Fellis, even to do so in the interest of his people? How deeply could he care for her to treat her so?
Her mind was a morass of confusion.
Into that confusion came the calming comfort of Stephen’s voice. “Fellis.”
Fellis turned to him as he took her elbow in a steady but infinitely gentle grip, turned to him as a lily does to the sun. “We had best go and allow Wynn to deal with this problem in private.”
He sent the other man a warning glance that not even Fellis in her unhappiness could fail to see. “I’m sure he will be able to take care of this matter so it will not interfere in his duty.”
Wynn gazed back at him tight-lipped, then nodded. “I will do so.”
When Ardeth opened her mouth as if to protest, the Welshman glared at her in warning. She subsided, though she took a step closer to him.
Fellis could only feel sympathy for the other woman as Stephen led her to her horse. It was impossible for her not to return the other’s feelings even in part. For she could not help thinking that she might feel the same were their circumstances reversed.
Her unhappy gaze went to Stephen’s face as he tenderly helped her to mount. She could see the suppressed anger in him. It was evidenced by the tight set of his jaw and the deliberately controlled way he moved. She could not help wondering how she would feel if someone else were to marry the man she loved.
The thought brought a lump to her throat and she had to look away, training her thoughts on finding her seat and leaving the clearing.
Stephen did not speak. He seemed bent on getting them both away as quickly as possible.
She allowed her gaze to move over that broad back, those arms, so strong yet tender. Never again would she know the taste of his lips, the touch of his hands.
Her horse came to a full stop on the trail and Fellis made no move to urge her forward once more.
She was only aware that Stephen had come back for her when he took the reins from her icy fingers.
Still without speaking, the knight dismounted and tied his horse and hers to a limb. Then he moved to her and reached up his arms in silent appeal.
Fellis went into them without hesitation, accepting the comfort of his embrace, uncaring in this moment as to the right of it. She only knew that she was cold and hurting and Stephen could warm her from the inside, that he would ease the ache as only he could.
When he drew back a bit to lead her to a fallen tree, she followed him without hesitation. At his silent urging, she sat on its moss-covered length.
Stephen came down beside her, taking her in his arms. Only then did he speak. “Fellis, I am sorry for what happened.”
She buried her face in his shoulder, wishing she could get inside him somehow and hide from the pain of who she was. If she’d not been born with the accursed foot, if her mother had not seen it as a mark of God’s displeasure, things might have been different for her. She would have been able to lead a more normal existence, to possibly meet a young man of noble birth, a young man who might have wanted her for herself. As it was, she had made no alliance and thus was available to act as pawn in King Edward’s plans.
She sobbed aloud, uncaring that she bared her soul by her words. “Would that I were someone other than who I am. God rot that I was born with this foot, this deformity that has kept me prisoner in my own life.”
Stephen held her away, willing her to look at him. “Fellis, do not speak so. There is naught wrong with you. You are perfect, beautiful beyond measure. Do not berate God for what he has made you.”
His gaze was dark with frustration as he moved away from her to kneel at her feet. “Let me show you in the only way I can that there is no part of you that is not pleasing.”
Before she knew what he was about, Stephen was lifting her cote and underdress. Then he raised her foot, the one she so hated, and slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, he removed her shoe. Only as he reached up to draw off her hose did Fellis realize what he was about to do.
Horrified, she tried to pull away. “Nay, please do not.”
Stephen held her there in a determined grip. “I must make you see the truth and this is the only way it can be done.”
She held her breath as he carefully but inexorably removed the stocking. As the fabric slid down her calf, Fellis had to close her eyes to block out the sight of the revulsion she would surely see in his face once her deformity was revealed.
Thus it came as an even greater shock to her when he raised that twisted ankle and pressed his lips to the pale, tender flesh. Her lids flew open of their own accord when a shaft of sweet pleasure so intense that it made her cry found its way from the spot where his lips touched to that most secret place betwixt her thighs. “Stephen.”
He was watching her, his gaze dark fire as his mouth moved over her skin, caressing and tasting, and yes, adoring that so long unwanted part of her. And that flesh, which had lain withered and dormant, came to blazing life under his reverent ministrations. For with each touch the sweetness built until Fellis could feel a strange dampness grow in her.
Uncaring where this might lead, Fellis held out her arms. “Stephen.”
He groaned, taking her in his arms and pressing sensuous lips to her own. She opened to him completely, offering him all the passion in her. And he responded in kind, his arm tightening around her back as his other hand moved to slide beneath the opening at the side of her cote. His warm hand found and cupped her breast and she felt it swell in his grasp. Gently he kneaded the aching flesh and her nipple hardened against his palm.
Fellis’s mouth left his and she whispered, “Oh, please, Stephen, please. I know not what to do. This ache is driving me near mad.”
He looked into her eyes, his dark with desire and tenderness. He took his hand from her breast and slid it down her side leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
Her cote and underdress were tangled around her knees, but Stephen found his way beneath them, stroking his hand over her knee, then her thighs as her legs parted. She moaned deep in her throat not knowing how it could possibly go on but feeling the pleasure build to an even tighter knot of tension inside her.
When he found and pressed his palm to the mound of her womanhood, she thought she would surely faint from the sweetness. But there was more, and as his fingers moved to caress that dark dampness, Fellis moved against him.
She was past thinking of anything beyond the rapture, the all-consuming ecstasy that rose up to wash over her in a tremendous flood of joy. Shuddering her bliss, she heard Stephen whisper “Fellis” against her hair.
Her eyes remained closed and she lay against him, basking in the warmth of a hundred suns. Every bone in her body felt as if it were made from the most pliant leather. Never had she imagined that such glory as she had just experienced existed in all the world.
Stephen had brought her to that glory.
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