Lynette could do nothing but accept everything he did to her. His body was too heavy and her own was weak. The fear that had made her limbs useless dissipated, to be replaced by a hot longing. She trembled with it, willing to do wherever Cadfael demanded of her.
In her heart, she knew Cadfael was using her to vent his anger. It was not a conscious choice he had taken. She had forced it upon him and given him no other way to express the horror and the rage he must be feeling. For that reason, she made no protest or attempt to push him away.
Besides, she wanted it, too. Even if he took her in anger, she wanted it.
He pushed away from her enough to let his hands roam over her. Nothing was spared. He traced the curve of her breasts, the shape of her hips, the sway of her back. The long line down to her knees. Then even farther. He bent and she drew in a sharp gasp as his hand curled around her ankle.
For a moment, his hand lingered. His thumb stroked her flesh, with nothing between them.
He stroked her leg, climbing higher and raising her dress as he went.
Lynette clutched at his shoulders, the rush of heat in her limbs, the throbbing between her thighs, weakening her.
He cupped her buttock and untied his leggings with the other hand. Lynette pushed them down his hips, exposing the jutting length of him. Then he picked her up and pressed her back against the wall and separated her knees. She wrapped her arms and legs about him, as he slid into her in one deep, smooth stroke.
For a moment, they held still, sampling the sensations of being joined.
Then Cadfael grasped her hips and thrust. Even his taking of her was hard and deep.
Lynette closed her eyes as her pleasure climbed. This was not the gentle touch she had imagined, yet her body responded as eagerly as if it had been. She clung to him as he drove into her, her breath coming in shallow pants.
Before her pleasure could peak, Cadfael came with groan that seemed to tear his throat and grew still.
Lynette shook, her exquisite need hovering with desperate intensity.
Cadfael put her back on her feet, his body withdrawing. For a moment he held her, until she could stand for herself.
It was ever this way, Lynette reminded herself. Cadfael was a man. What man ever cared for ought but his own pleasure?
She bent to pick up her cloak, which had fallen unheeded to the floor beside them and turned to go.
Cadfael caught her hand. “No.”
She looked at him, puzzled.
He picked up his own cloak, not letting go of her hand, then tugged her gently across the exercise area. He walked backward, the leggings only just clinging to his hips, his gaze on her face, as if he was afraid that if he looked away, she might bolt.
And she might have, Lynette admitted. For now, the deed was done, she felt flat…even sad.
Cadfael led her to the pile of hay in the corner and stood her next to it. He raised his hand, the long forefinger extended. “Do not move,” he murmured.
Then he turned and spread his cloak upon the hay.
Her heart pattered hopefully.
When he was done, Cadfael kissed her, then swept her gown and shift up the length of her body and pulled them over her head, stripping her in one movement. He drew her down to the cloak on the hay, his mouth and hands already exploring, stroking, exciting her.
He did not take her again, until after she had cried out her own pleasure, her body straining, driven to the peak by his ministrations.
This second time, their pleasure was mutual.
When he kissed her after, it was as gentle as she had thought it would be.
* * * * *
Cadfael spread her cloak over her, got dressed himself, then opened the big door at the end of the exercise area. Maridunum was visible through the sheeting rain, although Lynette suspected it was not the town that Cadfael stared at.
She wrapped the cloak about her and went to him. “I would ask what troubles you, but I know the answer.”
He pulled her against him and kissed her temple. It was an absent-minded gesture. “For years I have thought the Saxons to be my only enemy. They are a faceless mob—there is always more of them and I knew I would spend my life fighting them and never win. Now, though, my enemy has a name and a face.”
Vortigern.
Lynette shivered. “You cannot think you will kill him. He is the High King, surrounded by warriors. You would die if you tried.”
“I had not even thought that far,” he admitted. “I have served him all my adult life. I am not so faithless I can consider him my master one moment and plan his murder the next. For now, all I can think of is…who do I serve? Not Vortigern—never again will it be Vortigern.” He added, his voice soft, “I am lost in the wilderness.”
“Why must you be lost?” Lynette asked, keeping her tone reasonable. “Your life can have meaning and purpose even without someone to serve. You just said there are always more Saxons. There always will be, no matter who you serve, or even if you do not. They are the real enemy.”
“Yes…” he said slowly. “Yes, perhaps you are right.” He picked her up and carried her back to the hay.
Chapter Ten
Cadfael did not let her go until the first light of the next day brightened the stable and the grooms knocked timidly on the door, testing whether it was safe for them to enter and not have Cadfael take off their heads for the intrusion.
Lynette slipped past the grooms, her cloak wrapped tightly about her and her hood up. She crept along the verandah and into Vivian’s chamber. As her favored companion, Lynette shared the room with Vivian and her divan was larger and softer than Vivian’s other women enjoyed in their shared quarters, next door.
Men thought the presence of a second woman in the princess’ room would repel male attention for both women. Vivian and her women did nothing to dismantle their illusions.
Vivian was awake, lying with her head on her arm, her body relaxed and posed as if she was asleep. By merely closing her eyes, she could feign sleep, if anyone checked on her. She didn’t move, although her gaze followed Lynette to the other couch. “I told them in the dining hall that you had a headache.”
“Thank you,” Lynette murmured. “I was…”
“I know who you were with,” Vivian replied.
Lynette dropped her cloak on the end of the bed. “Do you also know why? Did you see that in your visions, too?”
“See what?”
Lynette sat on the side of the divan. “The other women did not tell you? About Maela?”
Vivian sat up, too. “I got back just before dinner,” she said. “There was no time and Maela was…” She looked up. “Maela did not wear her braids at supper, nor her veil. She wore earrings. Mabon could not keep his hands off her. Everyone watched them while they had eyes for only themselves. It was a happy meal. Is that what you mean?”
“No, although it pleases me that Mabon appreciates his wife’s changes. Maela has courage, Vivian. I did not realize before now that sometimes the smallest steps can take more courage than that of a warrior facing battle.”
“Yes, she does have courage,” Vivian said. “Tell me what happened with Maela while I was gone.”
Lynette told her as the daylight grew and the sounds of people stirring and starting their day increased.
“Cadfael is a man without a master, now. In his heart, at least, although Vortigern still thinks Cadfael is his to command,” Lynette finished. She hesitated. “I still do not understand why you did not see this. It reaches up to Vortigern himself. It is not the small things you said you no longer see.”
Vivian studied her hands for a long moment. “Seeing the future is not like seeing this moment right now. It is not a complete vision. Sometimes it is not even a vision at all, just something I know, as I know my own hand—when a moment before I didn’t know. It is that certain and that specific. I saw that you and Cadfael would come together. I did not see how it would happen, for the how is unimportant. That you are together is.”
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Lynette unpinned her hair. She would have to brush it and re-pin it with new ornaments before appearing at the breakfast table, or someone would surely notice that it was arranged as it had been yesterday. “I don’t know that we are together, as you say. Perhaps this single night was all he desires.” She pushed away the despair that thought generated. “He said nothing about the future.”
“Because he is uncertain of his own future,” Vivian replied. “You just took that from him. Men are creatures of habit, Lynette. You must give him time to adjust to a world that has shifted and changed in a heartbeat.”
“I suppose you may be right.”
“And you must bring him to the hermit’s cave, later today,” Vivian added.
Lynette lowered her arms. “I must? You mean…you want Cadfael to learn of Emrys?”
“I want Cadfael to speak to him. That is why the gods put Cadfael in your path. That is why they ensured that Maela would be here to tell you of Vortigern’s treachery. How else could a man of Cadfael’s faithfulness be swayed, other than hearing the truth from the lips of Vortigern’s own daughter? Now, because Cadfael trusts you, you can bring him to the cave.”
Lynette shivered. Vivian’s eyes were blank, far-seeing. Her voice had taken on a musical cadence. It was as if Vivian had gone. Another power used her body to speak through her, to arrange the future as it wished.
Then Vivian blinked and rubbed her temple, breaking the spell. “I do hope they have hot wine with breakfast this morning. It’s cold.”
Lynette opened the chest that held Vivian’s dresses and lifted one.
“No, it must be the white dress today.”
Lynette dug for the white gown. It was a simple gown, with no embellishments, a plain neck and narrow sleeves. She placed the gown on the divan next to Vivian, then turned to changing her own clothes and fixing her hair.
“You must wear your brown dress,” Vivian said firmly, when Lynette lifted the russet one and shook the herbs from its folds.
Lynette hesitated. She wanted to wear this dress because the color reminded her of Cadfael. Although, if the gods really were working through Vivian to arrange things as they must, then who was she to argue with them? She shrugged and pulled out the brown dress.
Calling it brown made the dress sound dull and ugly, although it was neither. The fabric had been woven somewhere on the continent and brought to Maridunum by a ship from Brittany. The long length had been intended for Vivian. Vivian had gifted it to Lynette, saying it was not her color. The rich, deep brown material had a softness that made one want to stroke it. It draped and clung with pleasing folds. In different lights, it took on different shades. Lynette had embroidered the neck and sleeves with a gleaming gold thread that had been discovered at the bottom of a chest in the workroom.
Now she put on the dress and smoothed it over her hips and thought that Vivian had been right. She felt pretty in this dress.
Cadfael will like it, her mind whispered. She pushed the thought aside. There was no point in mooning over a man who had not spoken of any commitment or future. The night had passed. It was daylight now.
“Wear my amber necklace and earrings, too,” Vivian told her.
“I could not!” Lynette protested. The amber and gold necklace and earrings were the most precious of Vivian’s jewelry. They had been a part of her family’s estate for generations. The amber had been dug from the deepest mine in Britain. It had then been worked into the necklace and earrings, it was said, by Macsen Wledig’s smith—the same smith who had forged his famous sword.
“You can and you will,” Vivian said. She shook her own simple dress into properly hanging folds, then opened the tiny chest that held the jewelry and carried it over to Lynette and held it out to her. “You praise Maela for her courage, yet it has not occurred to you that your own courage surpasses hers…and mine.”
“Me?” Lynette said, reaching automatically for the necklace.
“Olwen was right to say Cadfael would kill you for delivering such news. Most men would slaughter the messenger of such tidings. Yet, knowing that, you still confronted him.”
Lynette stared at her, puzzled. “I did not think of it as courage. It was just something that must be done. I was afraid, the entire time.”
“Exactly,” Vivian told her and patted her cheek. “Hurry up. I want some wine, so I can wake up properly.” She glanced out the window. “For this will be a day of days,” she whispered.
Lynette shivered again.
* * * * *
Thanks to the run of events yesterday, Cadfael had not eaten since breakfast that day. Now it was breakfast time again, his belly cramped in deep protest, forcing him to hurry as he washed and dressed. For the first time since he had arrived in the south, the water in his morning wash bowl did not have a film of ice over it.
It would be a warm day.
Gwilym had not appeared when he reached the hall. Cadfael found a seat at one of the secondary tables. After yesterday, he would likely not be welcome at Gwilym’s. He stood, waiting for the king’s arrival and watched the last of the household hurry in. The promise of warmth in the air put a smile on many faces and the chatter in the room was light and carefree.
He could feel the same lightness in himself. A great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, which was odd, because the truth about Vortigern should have had the opposite effect.
The inner sanctum door opened and Gwilym and his queen, Ninian, entered. Behind them came Vivian, in white…and Lynette.
Sound roared in Cadfael ears as he watched Lynette walk over to the Princess’ table. The roaring stole his hearing and made his heart slam against his chest. He pressed his fist against the table, propping himself up, as the strength drained from him. Lynette seemed to glow with her own golden, warm light and he could not look away from her. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time.
She had left his side only a short while ago, to return to the palace before it stirred with the coming day. Cadfael told himself it was an uncomplicated parting, one of many he had experienced over the years. People came together and parted afterward. It was the way of things.
Only now, as he saw her again, did Cadfael recognize the emptiness in his chest that had been growing since then. He had ignored the emptiness, telling himself he was merely hungry and that the promise of a warm spring day was the cause of his lightness of spirits.
Gwilym settled in his chair and everyone sat, forcing Cadfael to sit, too. He could not see her properly over the heads of his neighbors, save for a glimpse here and there of her brown curls, or the curve of her cheek. Sometimes, the slender column of her neck. He had pressed his lips to that soft flesh.
Cadfael had no appetite. He ate mechanically, purely for the energy it would give him. He could not finish the bowl. He wanted the meal ended and the king gone so he could leave without causing more offense. He wanted the sanctuary of his room and a moment to draw breath and think.
As soon as Gwilym rose to his feet and turned from the table, Cadfael lurched to his and hurried from the room. He dared not look toward the Princess’ table. If he did, he would be anchored here.
He closed the door to his room and threw himself on the bed he had not used. He put his hand to his chest. It ached.
With a snarl, he sat up and pummeled his knee.
She was not his. She could not be his. Lynette was the daughter of Vortigern’s war duke. To win her hand would require crawling on his belly to Vortigern, to gain his permission. By her actions yesterday, Lynette had made that impossible.
The tap on his door was firm and loud. Only his men knocked with that sort of authority.
With another curse, Cadfael got to his feet and ripped the door open, ready to send the man, whoever he was, away with a few choice insults for his poor timing.
Lynette stood there, her willowy figure upright, her shoulders square. Up close, Cadfael could see that the dress she wore was of some fine, foreign material. She had on her cloak, too, and
a veil pinned to her hair was tucked into it. She was dressed for travelling abroad.
Cadfael drew in a shuddering breath at her unexpected appearance.
“I have a request to make of you,” Lynette said. She spoke calmly, yet the base of her throat, next to the handsome gold and orange necklace, pulsed with a fast beat.
“Me?” Cadfael said blankly.
She glanced behind her, then met his gaze once more. “Would you come with me and not question where we are going? Can you do that?”
“Why would I?” Cadfael asked.
If she were a normal woman, she would in some way remind him of last night and imply he owed her a return favor.
Lynette did not soften her pose or smile knowingly. She did not smile at all. “There is someone you must meet,” she said instead.
“Where?”
“Up in the hills.”
He did not think it was possible for his heart to thud any harder, yet it jumped and squeezed. “The hills,” he repeated, thinking fast. “This is to do with the Princess, then? Her mysterious secret?”
Lynette showed the first open sign of emotion. She bit her lip. Doubt was gnawing her. “Yes, this is about Vivian’s secret,” she said. “She has said all along she would explain herself to me later. Now, it is later. Only, Vivian has said you must be there, too.”
“Why?”
Lynette frowned. “I don’t know.”
He tapped the door frame he was gripping, thinking. “You don’t know, yet you will still do what she says?”
“I am sworn to serve—”
“You and I both know that is not why you do this,” Cadfael injected.
Lynette hesitated. “Vivian says this matter is…important.”
“You trust her enough you would follow her blindly into the hills?”
Her fine chin came up. “I do.”
Cadfael reached for his cloak, grabbed his sword and knife, stepped out and shut the door.
Lynette’s eyes were large. “You will come with me?”
Once and Future Hearts Box One Page 10