Donovan's Woman

by Amanda Ashley

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  Reverend Mother nodded. “Put your fears aside. We will keep her safe.” She cleared her throat. “As I mentioned before, we are in need of help. The young man who used to milk the cow and feed and water the stock ran off last month,” she said. “The sisters look after the garden. Do you think you can care for the stock?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “You’ll sleep in there,” she said, gesturing at the shed. “I think you’ll find it comfortable.

  Meals are at six, noon, and seven. You may take yours with us or in the kitchen. Is there anything you need?”

  “Just a place to park the skiff. Preferably somewhere out of sight.”

  “There is another walled yard behind this one. I’ll fetch the key to the gate.”

  Nodding, he followed her back into the convent, waited while she went into her office for the key, then continued out the front door.

  As he drove around the back, he wondered how Marri’s reunion with her sister was going.

  * * *

  “And so we came here.” Marri sighed as she finished her tale. She had told her sister everything — well, almost everything.

  “Weren’t you scared to be alone with him? A total stranger? And that witch!” Annis shuddered. “I think I would have expired on the spot.”

  “It was scary, sometimes,” Marri admitted. “But mostly it was exciting. As for Gryff, he’s braver than any knight I ever knew. I wish….”

  Annis shook her head. “You’ve changed, Marri. I hardly know you any more.”

  Marri nodded. Sometimes she hardly recognized herself. She had endured hunger and thirst, seen and done things she had never imagined. Fallen in love. No matter what the future held, if she spent another week with Gryff or only a day, he would always hold a place in her heart.

  Chapter 24

  Sitting back on her heels, Marri sent a rueful glance at the kitchen floor as she dipped a rag into a bucket of soapy water. Though she had only been at the cloister a day, it already seemed like forever. Idle speech was frowned upon, as was laughter. One wing of the cloister housed a number of aged and infirm women, many of whom could not feed or bathe themselves. In addition to caring for the bedridden, the nuns took turns cooking the meals, making bread, mopping and waxing the floors, washing the windows, doing the laundry, working in the garden, and a dozen other menial tasks.

  Until she met Gryff, she had never done a day’s work in her life. Her hands were sore, her back ached. She wasn’t given to complaining, but going from a life of luxury to one of constant labor and self-denial wasn’t going to be easy. There was, however, a certain satisfaction in looking after those who couldn’t look after themselves. The nuns were kind. Her room, though small, was comfortable. The food was good. If not for Gryff, she might have resigned herself to spending the rest of her days in the convent, living a life of service and chastity. But not now. Gryff had spoiled her for any life that didn’t include being in his arms.

  * * *

  Staring off into the distance, Gryff rested one arm on the top of the corral fence. As jobs went, this one wasn’t looking too bad. He’d fed the stock, milked the cow, mucked out the stalls. With his chores finished, he glanced at the garden.

  Hoping the nuns wouldn’t mind, he passed an hour pulling weeds — an hour spent thinking of Marri. How, exactly, did the nuns spend their days? Surely they didn’t devote all their time to prayer and meditation?

  He couldn’t imagine Marri happily living the rest of her life in the cloister. Clad in habit and wimple, he had hardly recognized her at breakfast. He had hoped to have a few minutes alone with her, but as soon as the meal was over, the nuns had filed silently out of the rectory, headed for the chapel.

  At noon, a bell summoned him to the noon-day meal. He sat at a small table, apart from the sisters. It took him a minute to find Marri among the silent women. As though feeling his gaze, she glanced his way. She didn’t look happy. Gryff held up two fingers, hoping she would get the message to meet him later that afternoon. A barely perceptible nod was his answer.

  He was in the barn, currying a pretty chestnut mare, when Marri slipped inside.

  Tossing the brush aside, Gryff opened his arms and she ran to him, her own arms wrapping around his waist.

  For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held her close. Only one night apart and it seemed like a lifetime. He wanted to pull the wimple from her head and run his fingers through her hair, strip her of the shapeless habit and feast his eyes on the warm flesh beneath.

  “Marri…”

  “I know. I missed you, too.”

  “Are you happy here? Is this what you want?”

  “No. I love being here with Annis, but….oh, Gryff,” she wailed. “I want to be with you!”

  “Marri, sweetheart…”

  She placed her fingertips over his mouth with her hand, took a deep breath, and said in a rush, “I love you. I’ll always love you. I don’t want to be a princess or as queen. I…I just want to be your wife. Marry me, Gryff, and take me away from here.” Seeing the argument rising in his eyes, she said, “If you don’t marry me, I’ll never marry anyone. I’ll never know what it’s like to make love to the man I adore. I…” Suddenly running out of steam, she fell silent, her hand falling to her side.

  Gryff stared at her, momentarily speechless, and then swept her into his arms again. “I accept your proposal, princess.”

  * * *

  Annis was shocked to hear that Marri intended to marry Gryff, a man without land or title. “What will father say?”

  “I don’t care. I love Gryff. I don’t want to spend my life here. I want to be with him, have his children.”

  “But Artur…if what you say is true…”

  “I don’t care! Please, Annis, be happy for me.”

  * * *

  At confession on Friday morning, Marri asked the visiting priest if he would perform the ceremony. At first, he refused. But when she vowed she would run away with Gryff and live in sin, the good father relented.

  “Thank you, Father.”

  “I hope you do not regret marrying in haste, my child. Bring the young man here. I will marry you now.”

  She found Gryff in the barn.

  He looked up, one brow lifting when he saw the bright smile on her face. Setting aside the harness he had been mending, he said, “What’s got you looking so happy?”

  “We’re to be married! Now!”

  “Now?” He frowned at her. “As in, right now?”

  “Yes!” Her smile wavered. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

  “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

  * * *

  “Are you sure about this, child?” Reverend Mother asked as she helped Marri into a simple white shift.

  “Yes, Mother. I love him with all my heart.” Marri paused. “Will you give me your blessing?”

  Reverend Mother shook her head. “I cannot see that any good will come of this. You are marrying outside the church, without your father’s permission. I’m afraid I cannot condone your decision, but I do wish you every happiness.”

  * * *

  Gryff stood at the altar, waiting for her. “Are you sure about this?” he whispered as she took her place beside him.

  “Yes.”

  Holding hands, they exchanged the simple yet profound words that joined them as man and wife.

  “You may kiss the bride,” the priest said. “May God bless you both.”

  Marri gazed up at Gryff — her husband — as he drew her into his arms.

  “I love you,” he said fervently. “I will love you as long as I live.”

  “And I you.”

  Lowering his head, he kissed her ever so gently, wishing, fervently, that he had something more to offer her than all the love in his heart.

  * * *

  Now that Marri was a married woman, staying inside the cloister was no longer an option. She knew she should be appalled at the idea of spending
her wedding night in the dilapidated shed where Gryff slept, but where they were didn’t matter, as long as they were together. As long as she could be in his arms. She felt a little thrill of anticipation when he closed the door, locking out the rest of the world.

  He lit several candles, then turned to face her. “Reverend Mother’s been here,” he remarked, gesturing at the colorful quilt that now covered the bed, the pillows, now covered with sparkling white cases. The simple white nightgown on the foot of the bed.

  Marri nodded, her stomach in knots as Gryff drew her into his arms. Everything else melted away at his touch.

  His gaze moved over her face, and then he kissed her ever so lightly. The fire that ignited from the mere brush of his lips across hers was hotter than the lava caves at Fennton. There was no need for foreplay, no need for words. Locked in each other’s arms, they fell back on the bed, eager hands quickly shedding their clothing, touching, exploring. They came together in a rush as all the passion they had kept so tightly leashed exploded like a star going nova.

  Marri clung to Gryff as the world she knew went up in flames. She was on fire, her whole body melting into his. She had never known what pleasure was until this moment, never knew the wonder of it, the sheer sensual power of joining her body with that of the man she loved.

  For love him she did. Desperately.

  He shuddered deep inside her, his face buried in her hair, his body trembling, damp with perspiration.

  She stroked his back, her heart swelling with tenderness. Whatever happened in the future, she would forever cherish this moment. This man.

  “Are you all right?” he asked his voice muffled.

  “Never better.”

  He lifted on up his elbows. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. It was wonderful. Thank you.”

  He cocked one brow, then grinned. “No one’s ever thanked me before.”

  Some of her euphoria faded. He was her first. How many had come before her? She knew about Serepta, of course, but had there been others? Women he hadn’t been forced to bed?

  “Marri?” His gaze searched her face. “What’s wrong?”

  She blinked furiously in an effort to stay her tears. “Nothing.”

  “You can’t lie to me. I know you too well. Was it something I said? Something I did?”

  Her gaze slid away from his. “Please, Gryff, let it go.”

  “Not until you tell me.”

  “You said no one’s ever thanked you before.”

  “Yeah.” He frowned at her, and then, as comprehension dawned, he swore softly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Would it help if I told you none of the others were ever important to me? Not the way you are.”

  “Only if you mean it.”

  He brushed his lips across her brow, the tip of her nose, her cheeks. His kisses were feather-light until he covered her mouth with his. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping across her lower lip, dipping inside. When she was breathless, her hands clutching his shoulders, he lifted his head. “I meant it, love. Every word.”

  “Show me,” she whispered. “Make be believe.”

  He gazed down at her, his eyes hot, his voice thick as he murmured, “My pleasure.”

  * * *

  Marri sighed, her whole body aching in the most wonderful way. The first time had been amazing. This last time was beyond description. Gryff had made love to her slowly, arousing her, carrying her to the peak of ecstasy again and again. He had touched her and tasted her in ways that made her cry out with pleasure until, at last, he had carried her over the edge, leaving her spent and satisfied and more in love than ever.

  She sighed again as he stood, let out a little shriek of surprise when he lifted her into his arms and carried her through a door she hadn’t notice before and into a small bathroom with an equally small shower.

  Standing under the spray, he found the soap and washed her from head to foot, then, with an expectant smile, he handed it to her.

  Had anyone asked, Marri would have said making love was the most intimate thing a couple could do, but washing Gryff, soaping his arms and chest, his legs, that part of him that made him a man, was remarkably arousing.

  Little wonder they wound up in bed yet again.

  * * *

  Gryff rolled onto his side, one arm across his brow. “Woman, you are insatiable.”

  “Me?” She punched him on the arm. “I didn’t carry you out of the shower and into bed.”

  Trying hard not to laugh, he muttered, “Only because you couldn’t lift me.”

  “Fine, then I’ll never bathe you again.”

  “Okay, you win!” Grasping her around the waist, he pulled her onto his chest. “It was all my fault.”

  She laughed with the sheer joy of being in his arms, of knowing he was now hers for always, for forever. Laughed until he rolled over, his body covering hers, his mouth hot as he claimed her lips and her heart.

  * * *

  Gryff sat outside, his back braced against the side of the barn. Overhead, the twin moons silvered the land. How quickly his life had changed! If only his prospects had changed as well. He had nothing to offer Marri, couldn’t think of anyplace that would provide a safe haven for the two of them. He had considered and rejected a dozen towns. If he could obtain a couple of fake travel orders, they could leave Brynn Tor, perhaps go to one of the moons. They’d be safe there.

  Muttering an oath, he headed for his bed and his bride. He’d worry about the future tomorrow. Tonight, he wanted to be in his woman’s arms.

  * * *

  Gryff was drifting toward sleep when something — a change in the air, a sound heard by his sub-conscious — jerked him from the brink. Rolling out of bed, he lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he tested the wind and scented danger lurking nearby.

  He moved silently as he opened the door and stepped outside.

  Shifting into the wolf, he sniffed the air again, growled softly as an unfamiliar scent filled his nostrils. He paused, his gaze searching the darkness. There, footprints leading from the convent to the back of the shed.

  Head lowered, he trailed the scent, growled low in his throat when he saw the back door hanging open.

  He padded quietly through the door, fear spiking through him when he heard Marri scream.

  Inside the shed, a big brute of a man leaned over the bed, his hands wrapped around Marri’s throat. A shock of white hair gave him a ghostly appearance.

  With teeth bared, the wolf launched itself at the man’s back, his teeth sinking deep into the artery in the man’s neck.

  With a roar, the man reared back, trying to shake off the wolf. Blood sprayed from the killing wound.

  The wolf growled as he ripped out the attacker’s throat. With a choked cry, the man fell backwards, ricocheted off the wall, staggered a few feet and crashed through the front door.

  A gasp caught the wolf’s attention. Looking up, he saw several nuns clad in their nightgowns running toward the shed. When they reached the doorway, they came to an abrupt halt, their eyes wide with horror and fear as they glanced from the dead man to the wolf.

  * * *

  Marri scrambled out of bed and hurried toward the door. “It’s all right,” she assured the nuns. “He won’t hurt you. He’s…he’s a pet.”

  “A pet?” The Reverend Mother stepped warily into the room. “You brought a wolf here and didn’t think to mention it?”

  “I’m sorry, but I was afraid you wouldn’t let him stay.”

  “You thought rightly.” Reverend Mother’s face paled as she glanced from the wolf to the body on the floor. She glanced at Gryff. “This is the man I told you about, the one who came looking for Marri.”

  “It’s Dunnin,” Annis said from the doorway. Face pale, she gave the wolf a wide berth as she hurried to Marri’s side.

  Reverend Mother nodded. “Yes, that was his name.”

  Marri shuddered. If she’d ever needed proof that her brother wanted her dead, she had it now. Trembling in the aftermath of
the attack and the reality that her own flesh and blood had sent someone to kill her, Marri slumped on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

  Reverend Mother took a deep, calming breath. “The danger seems to be past, for now. We will talk more in the morning about your pet. Marri, where is your husband?”

  “He heard something outside and went to check.”

  Reverend Mother nodded. “When he returns, please ask him to bury the body. Sisters, go back to bed. Annis, you may stay here until Gryff returns.”

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  Marri glanced at the wolf. “Go find Gryff.”

  With a short yip, he padded out of the room. Once out of sight, he resumed his own form.

  * * *

  Later, after making sure Marri was all right and sending Annis back to bed, Gryff found a shovel, then carried the dead man to a corner of the yard behind the garden and dumped him on the ground.

  His fury against Marri’s brother rode him hard as he dug the grave. What kind of monster ordered a hit on his own sister? Marri had said she had no designs on the throne. Surely she had told her brother that, as well. Apparently he hadn’t believed her.

  Gryff dropped the body into the hole and filled it in. Replaced the shovel in the barn. Washed his hands. And hurried back to his bride.

  She was sitting up in bed, waiting for him, her face wan.

  “Are you all right?”

  “My throat’s sore.”

  Sitting beside her, he examined her neck, felt his rage threaten to engulf him yet again when he saw the bastard’s handprints on her pale skin. Damn the man! He wished he could kill him all over again.

  Marri’s gaze searched his. “We aren’t safe here any more, are we?”

  “No. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

  “Where will we go?”

  “Wherever the wind blows us, I guess.”

  * * *

  Marri stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts in turmoil. Was there any place where they would be safe? Wherever they went, they would constantly be looking over their shoulders, wondering if every stranger they met was another of Artur’s assassins.

  There was, she thought, only one thing to do. Confront Artur face-to-face and swear to him by all she held dear that she didn’t want the throne. If necessary, she would put it in writing.