by Mia Pride
Abigael simply nodded, not showing any reaction to his frustrated response. She turned to Gwynneth, who was still laying in the bed with tea in her hand, looking down in avoidance. Abigael walked slowly over to Gwynn and gently sat down beside her, running her fingers affectionately through her hair. “And, Gwynn?” she nodded at her with a smile, encouraging her to speak.
Gwynneth’s voice was hoarse and weak, the result of several hours of screaming and crying. “I intend to seek a disbandment of my union with Baine from the king of my tuath, which is why I wanted to get escorted home.” Her voice trailed off quietly as she took a deep breath, “until I lost mo leanbh.” She put her head down and gently touched her vacant womb.
Abigael was no longer indifferent. Her face looked mournful, on the brink of tears, as she watched Gwynneth. “I have lost children as well. I do understand your pain.” She looked quietly at Gwynn in honest sympathy. “I never was able to have my own.” Gwynn and Liam looked at her in confusion and she responded immediately, “Ceara, my sweet, lovely daughter, is not mine by nature. She was given to me by a desperate man seeking protection for his daughter. But, that is a story for another day.”
Hoping to change the subject, she cleared her throat and smiled, “Now, the reason I am asking these personal questions, is because I have a story for you.” Everyone looked up at her, anxiously waiting to hear where this was going.
“I was there the day King Doran died. In his bedchamber, in fact.” She paused as all the mouths in the room dropped simultaneously at her shocking confession. She laughed and continued, “Well, don’t be so surprised! He was a widower and I am a widow. We found a great companionship in one another that lasted almost two decades. He kept it quiet, only visiting me on his bartering trips. I only came to him at Iverni when I heard that he was dying.” Her voice went soft and she choked back a tear.
“Nay, this isn’t the point,” she said, shaking her head. “The point is that, when you came to visit your father that day, Gwynneth, to say goodbye, he saw the pain in your eyes. Not just your pain over his ailing body, but over your own. You had a red mark across your cheek and a scab on your lip. You walked like an injured animal and he saw the ring of bruises around your wrists when you leaned in to hug him.”
Liam jumped out of his seat like a man on fire, striding determinedly over to Gwynneth with his fists balled up tightly at his sides. “Is this true, Gwynneth? Did he mark you?” His voice hissed with fury through his clenched teeth. “Did that bastard mark you?”
“Many times,” Gwynneth said softly, then took a shaky sip from her cup while looking away from Liam. “I only just remembered last night in that horrible nightmare…just before…” her voice broke off with a strangled sob.
“He is a dead man. I will kill him. May his soul rot in the Otherworld and know nay peace.” Liam’s voice was calculated and cold, but his fists gave away his internal struggle as his knuckles turned white from clenching. He sat down on the bed next to Gwynneth and Abigael, stroking Gwynneth’s arm.
“That may not be necessary...” Abigael looked at Liam and then at Gwynneth. “After you left your father’s side, he called Baine in to his chamber. Your father confronted Baine about his abuse and told him never to touch you again. Baine laughed at him, claiming he would do as he willed with his wife and nay ‘weakened king on his deathbed’ could do anything to stop it.”
Gwynneth was silent, gripping her clay mug in an effort to hide her shaking hands, wondering how she could have ever stayed with that man for five years, even for her father’s sake. She snuck a sideways glance at Liam. His face was frightening, like a man ready to murder, and she looked quickly away, wishing she had been a stronger woman instead of submitting to Baine’s sadistic tendencies.
Baine’s hurtful words from her memory repeated in her mind. “Where is Liam now?” Had Liam truly given up on her and loved another woman? Had he been glad to be rid of her? Or were those fabrications of a man desperate to break her piece by piece, from the inside out? As an image of Liam with another woman pulsed painfully through her mind, her vacant womb pulsed painfully with the loss of life. Baine had succeeded. She was broken beyond repair.
Abigael sighed, breaking through Gwynn’s tormented thoughts. “So, your father did what any father, who had the power of a king, would do.” She paused and stared at them with intense eyes, letting the suspense build. Gwynneth and Liam were staring intently at her, waiting for her to get to the point. Even Duncan was sitting at the table with silent interest on his face.
“He dissolved your marriage, on the terms of abuse and neglect. And, he decreed you the rightful owner of all Baine’s possessions.” Her words were life altering, and Gwynneth’s entire body shuddered with years of pent up hatred and fear releasing from her all at once. Her body went numb and a whoosh of air left her lungs.
Liam jumped to his feet, staring down at Abigael with doubtful eyes. “You were there? You know this for certain?” His voice was hopeful, yet unsure. “What did Baine do?”
Abigael nodded solemnly with no trace of doubt in her eyes. “Aye, I was there, but not where Baine could see me. I was behind a bed curtain. He stormed out of the room in a tirade and your father died very soon after. Baine found out he would not be king later that same day after the assembly meeting, and you disappeared that night, Gwynneth.”
The revelation that Baine had been physically abusing Gwynneth was worse than a kick to the groin. Liam felt ill with hatred pulsing through his veins. His jealousy of Baine was nothing compared to this new intense loathing. Though he struggled to remain calm on the surface for Gwynneth’s sake, Liam’s heart pounded within his ribcage as he plotted Baine’s demise. He would die.
Sickening dread swept over him as he realized why Baine had tried to dispose of Gwynneth. Once King Doran had dissolved his marriage and Baine believed her barren, he had no use for her. This, coupled with news of his loss of the kingship, and all of his possessions, must have left Baine in a rage.
Baine could have walked away and let Gwynneth live her own life. But nay, he would never have allowed her any free will. For Liam would have seized his opportunity and swept Gwynneth into his arms, and Baine would never have allowed that. Nay…Baine tried to kill Gwynneth for one reason and one reason only: to keep her and Liam apart. If he could not have her love, nobody could. Just as Liam let out an audible growl from deep in his throat, he looked down at Gwynneth to gage her reaction to this news.
Gwynneth wanted to speak, but she was rendered speechless. She could not think of anything to describe the impact the last few minutes had on her entire existence. Her whole body tingled with a combination of relief and uncertainty.
“Tis all very overwhelming,” Gwynneth said softly as she bit her lower lip. “Baine is nay longer my husband? I am nay longer carrying his child, and, I cannot remember our marriage at all, aside from my nightmare last night. Tis as if the last five years never happened…”
Everyone was quiet for a moment and Duncan was squirming around in his seat, feeling like an outsider looking in on a very personal affair. “I, eh, well…” Duncan scratched his head thinking of something to say, but nothing clever came to mind. “I am sorry to hear about the loss of your child, My Lady.” He lowered his head in respect. “And for, well, everything. To hear of your abuse, Gwynneth, ye must know that neither Liam nor I had any idea. Nobody did. We would have killed the bastard if we had.”
His voice had increased in volume, then cracked, as if trying to control his emotions. “I am going to go back to King Garreth. He asked to seek my council on a matter of great importance. I must get back.” He bowed his head and swiftly escaped the house as fast as his feet could take him.
Liam looked over to Gwynneth, giving her a reassuring smile and took her hand in his, stroking his thumb soothingly across her knuckles as she stared blankly into her empty cup, still resting in one hand. He was torn between seething rage at the discovery of Baine’s abuse, relief that she was freed of his viol
ence, and pure elation that Gwynneth was available to marry him.
He wondered if she would still have him, after all that had happened. Remembering his promise to let her make her own choices, he decided not to mention marriage for now. After all, she had only just found out about her dissolved marriage, and lost her child that morning. He didn’t want to add to her already overwhelming day.
Aside from the sound of the crackling fire and the anxious breathing of the room’s occupants, the house fell eerily silent. Deciding that this was a good time to make her exit, Abigail stood up without warning, straightened out her long orange linen dress and headed for the door.
“Well, I think I’ve given you both enough to deal with for tonight. With Samhain on the morrow, there is a lot of planning left to do. I will go to Ceara and help her with preparations. I would like to stay there tonight, as it will be late when we are done. Please send for me if you require anything.”
She stopped and looked at them, both sending her awkward smiles of thanks, not knowing what else to say. “Do your best to absorb tonight’s confessions. For on the morrow, there will be much more.” And with a swish of her skirts, she was out the door, leaving Gwynneth and Liam alone for the first time all day.
Chapter 13
Even after Abigail left, the room remained silent. Liam was afraid to speak first. Gwynneth had lost her child and become aware of her dissolved marriage within a few hours of each other. He could not even begin to understand how she was feeling, nor know what to say. He was not even sure what Gwynneth wanted any longer. So, he waited.
After another moment of silence, Liam remembered the water boiling in the cauldron and the large wooden tub Abigael dragged out for Gwynneth earlier, partially filled with cool water. He dragged the tub over to the iron cauldron and slowly tipped its boiling contents in, watching the steam rise as the hot and cold water mixed together in the bath. His ribs were still aching, now that he took a moment to notice, but he pushed the pain away. Gwynneth needed to be cared for tonight, and he was the only one available.
“Gwynneth,” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible, “you should take a bath. Are you strong enough to get up and climb in yourself, or do you need help?” He saw her eyes shift from him to the tub of hot water, chewing her bottom lip as she considered whether or not to accept his help, knowing that she should, but too shy to say so.
Recognizing her hesitation, he walked over to her. “I promise I will not touch you, mo chroí. I won’t even look at you,” and he put a hand out to help Gwynneth’s weakened body lift from the bed. He saw a few more fresh blood stains on her new night dress and the bed, but nothing unexpected after what she has been through. She had lost a lot of blood and could barely walk without collapsing.
Bending over, Liam swooped her up gently under her knees and cradled her petite body in his arms, wincing with the pain in his ribs. He carefully put her down in the tub, making sure her feet were stable on the ground. Closing his eyes to keep his promise, he steadied her body with one strong hand and then put his other hand out. Understanding his body language and trusting him intrinsically, Gwynneth lifted her hands over her head and removed her slightly sodden linen night dress and placed it in his hands.
With his eyes still shut, Liam dropped the dress on the floor and wrapped both arms around Gwynneth’s naked body, using his as support as she lowered herself into the steaming water. Gwynneth sighed as the hot water soothed her aching body from the inside out, sending gooseflesh all over her warming skin. The scent of lavender drifted in the steam against her face and she silently thanked Abigael for the simple, yet soothing addition of herbs to her bath. She looked up at Liam with an appreciative smile, but without even a glance, he turned around a walked away.
Gwynneth was touched by his respectful behavior of her privacy. He certainly was an honorable man, unlike Baine, who would take advantage of her weakness. But, she could not help the disappointment that settled deep down inside of her. She knew he was still sorrowful for the loss of the child, as was she, and he had been a constant support to her all day. But, his lack of interest in the announcement of her dissolved marriage was unsettling. He had not so much as looked at her since. It was as if Liam had no more interest in marrying her, or even looking at her.
A deep sorrow squeezed at her soul as a disturbing fear clouded her mind and took root in her fragile heart. Perhaps he had been repulsed by her blood and child loss. Perhaps he did not want a wife who could not carry a child to term. Mayhap Baine was right- she was nothing more than a worthless, barren, waste of a woman. Good for nothing. Had Liam changed his mind about marrying her after all? She had lost her child and Liam all in the same day. That sudden realization caused the wound in her heart to burst open, releasing pain, loss, and sorrow.
A harsh, chest rattling sob escaped her body, causing her to wince and hold her abdomen, already sore from all her earlier trauma and tears. Liam was startled by the sounds of her painful moan and came running over to her, kneeling on the side of the tub and staring up to her face as fresh tears streaked her still dirty face.
Assuming this new wave of emotions was still caused by the loss of her babe, Liam leaned over and stroked her hair, whispering reassuring words in her ear. “I don’t know what to say Gwynneth, I’m very sorry.” He picked up a cloth Abigael had draped over the edge of the tub for washing, rubbed it in the lye soap, and wiped the dirt and tears away from her face.
Watching her face closely, Liam realized a new emotion was surfacing. He recognized it quickly as rage and his face contorted with confusion. Gwynneth looked like a woman ready to release a wrath upon the earth as her words came out like thunder. “You don’t know what to say? How about the truth, for once! Or, is that too much to expect of you, Liam?”
Liam flinched and leaned away from her, partly out of befuddlement at the quick change of her emotions, and partly out of fear that she may strike him. His hair was still sticky with dry blood, but he attempted to run his fingers through it anyway, completely forgetting about his own injuries. He winced as his finger caught in his tangled hair and put a hand on the side of the tub.
He had no idea what to say, starring at her furious face as it turned red and her green eyes blazed like a forest on fire. The water in the bath appeared to be letting off more steam, as if the increase in her fury was making the water angry as well. Mouth agape, he watched the steam rising higher from the tub and shook his head. He must be imagining things and had more to worry about than some over-active steam.
“Och! What is the matter with you?” His voice sounded frustrated, almost angry, even to his own ears, but he couldn’t help his own response to her outburst. He had taken care of her all this time and now, when they were even closer to their goals, she decided to lash out on him. “Tell me Gwynneth, by the horns of Cernunnos, what is the matter with you?”
He stormed off across the room, pacing back and forth in nothing but his loosely tied trousers, just barely hanging on to his hips with every step. She could see his muscles flexing under his bandage as he tensed and his chest was rising fast with anger. Silently, she begged for his trousers to slip lower with each move of his hips, hoping to catch a glimpse of something more. She felt her anger slipping slightly as she watched him move, but decided to stick with one emotion at a time. “You tell me, Liam!” she shouted in forced anger. “What is wrong with me? The moment you find out I am nay longer Baine’s wife, is the moment you decide not to touch me? Or even look at me?”
Releasing a long breath that had been building inside of him, Liam swiftly turned on his heel and stared blankly at her, trying to figure out the cause of her sudden fury. He had to act carefully. She was sore, tired, heartbroken and angry, creating a dangerous combination within her small form. Suddenly, he realized she was hurt and offended by his lack of interest in her body as he readied her for the bath, yet that realization only flustered him further. The woman was impossible!
“You turn me away when I try to touch y
ou, Gwynn! And now you are mad because I won’t! What, by all the gods, do you want from me, woman? I promised you I would not touch you until you were ready. And when I do have you, I will have all of you. Mind. Body. Soul. I want you, but I want all of you. What do you not understand about that?”
Liam was seething and clenching his fists as he watched her face change to shame and understanding. “So, you do still love me? Even after I lost my child?” She looked ashamed and embarrassed as she stared down at the water. Noticeably less steam was rising from the surface of the water as it cooled in conjunction with Gwynneth’s rage.
“Och, Gwynn,” he muttered in a strangled voice as he processed what she was feeling. “How could you think so little of my love for you? After all these years, why would I ever stop loving you? Never, Gwynn. Never.” He walked over to her tub and squat down next to her, taking one of her frail hands in both of his. “How could you even suggest such a thing?” His words were sincere and Gwynn could see the hurt in his eyes.
“I thought that mayhap…mayhap you were disgusted with me, because of all the blood. Or mayhap you don’t want a wife who cannot carry a babe.” She looked up at him with a tear in her eye. “Or…mayhap,” her voice shook with quelled tears, “hearing about my abuse from Baine, you don’t want what’s left of my broken, abused, and barren body.”
He came behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Kissing her hair, he inhaled deeply of her natural floral scent. It was unmistakably Gwynneth and he gripped his hand around one of her wavy locks, feeling possessive and protective all at once. “I couldn’t possibly want you more, Gwynneth. I love you, all of you, everything about you. Why can you not accept that?” He felt utterly defenseless against this small wisp of a woman who was all things soft and delicate, yet with the fiery passion of the gods running through her veins.