by June Francis
A hush fell over the cabin and then after a few minutes he said, ‘What do you think St Paul is saying, Kate?’
She thought for a moment. ‘He says much that I can’t comprehend fully without giving it more thought, but I think he is saying that a person can do all kinds of good works and even give their body up to be burnt for the faith, but if they do not feel true charity…real love, that is…towards others, then their works are not acceptable to God,’ she said softly. ‘But feeling charitable towards certain folk is sometimes nigh impossible, which is why we need the Holy Ghost. Even then…’ A frown puckered her brow. ‘Do you not agree, Owain?’
He sighed heavily, closing the New Testament. ‘Aye, I do. It is not easy to dig out the seed of hate once it is embedded in one’s heart.’
They both fell silent.
Then Kate said tentatively, ‘Surely the same could be said for love? Once it takes root…’
He stared at her and she felt her heart hammering in her breast, but then he turned away and replaced the New Testament in the drawer. He left the cabin and she wondered if she had annoyed him by talking of love in such a way. Yet he had spoken of love favourably on a couple of occasions. Was there a woman in his past whom he loved still? Perhaps her father had forced her to wed another because Owain had only been a second son and he had never been able to forget her. That thought caused Kate pain and she knew then that she was coming to care for him far more than was sensible.
She sighed, thinking that perhaps, when they reached England, she should definitely leave him and find other company in which to make her way north. She still had her pilgrim’s garb and it should not be too difficult to find others to walk the way of the pilgrim with her.
She left the cabin and went up on deck. The weather had improved and she went over to Owain, who was gazing out over the sea, and suggested they play chess. He nodded and soon they were seated on deck with the board on a barrel between them.
Initially, Kate had made the mistake of expecting him to play with the same caution as Lady Catherine, but while he was a careful player, he did have flashes of recklessness, which had taken her by surprise and caused her to respond likewise. Then she began to realise that some of his moves were inspired to make her react without thinking.
He made his move and she viewed the board.
Owain watched her, his eyes warm with desire as they rested on the sweet swell of her breasts as she bent over the board. He could feel the sun’s heat on the back of his neck and was glad when the sun went behind the clouds being tumbled across the sky by the strong breeze filling the large square sail at the centre of the ship. He knew he must control the strong urges inside him, but it was getting more difficult the more time he spent in her company. He must look away and did so, noting the second mast with its billowing sail set forward to the fo’c’s’le was being whipped by the wind. A much smaller sail was attached to the yards at the stern. Last even, according to the master, they had been making good time and if the wind stayed with them then they should reach the English Channel within the next few days. Suddenly he sniffed the air. ‘The wind’s changing,’ he said.
‘If you are trying to distract me, Owain, dearest, then it won’t work,’ said Kate sweetly, not looking up from the board.
He smiled and glanced towards the master standing on the poop deck, calling orders to his mariners. Owain decided he seemed to have everything under control and turned his attention back to Kate.
She smiled at him, believing she had him trapped. He returned her smile and then lowered his eyes to the board. For several minutes she watched him, taking in every nuance of his expression; her eyes lingered on his lips. He continued to stare at the board, and, with the slightest of sighs, she rolled her neck and shoulders and let her gaze wander. Eventually it came to rest on the horizon to starboard. After gazing over the open sea for so long, at first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Yet surely that slight hump in the distance was land? She glanced towards the sun and realised that what Owain had said was true. The wind had veered and they were no longer travelling north-west, but north-east towards the coast of France.
‘Owain,’ she whispered.
‘I know,’ he said, sweeping the figures into the box before folding the board and placing it on top of them. He rose and headed across the deck in the direction of their cabin. She went after him, aware that the mariners were shouting to one another and pulling on ropes. ‘Do you think the master will need to bring down the sails?’ she panted, catching him up outside their cabin.
‘Perhaps. But wind and tide could still sweep us towards France and in that case he might decide to make for the nearest port. Which means…’ Owain’s voice trailed off as he lifted down his saddle bags, which he kept at the foot of his bed.
She sat on hers. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ He moved her feet and pulled out a drawer.
‘You’re packing.’
‘Aye.’ It did not take him long and then he fastened on his sword.
Her mouth went suddenly dry. ‘You think there’ll be a fight if we are blown towards France?’
He smiled grimly. ‘I hope not. Much depends on how far north we are. If we can make Brittany that will suit me. The Duke of Brittany’s alliance with the King of France is an uneasy one. The Bretons have always been an independent race and have traded with England for hundreds of years.’
‘You believe they won’t harm us?’
‘I hope not. It depends.’
She thought about that depends and murmured, ‘There are always those who will see easy pickings if a ship ends up in distress.’
He did not deny it, but threw his saddlebags over his shoulder and opened the cabin door, ushering her out. She followed him across the deck to where Merlin was tethered. He asked her to stay with the horse whilst he spoke to the master. She rested a hand on the animal’s neck, willing herself to hold in check her dismay and the fear that she might never see her mother and Diccon again.
Owain was away only a short time; when he returned, he suggested she accompany him to the starboard side of the ship. ‘What did the master have to say?’ she asked.
‘He hopes to maintain this distance and sail along the coast.’
‘Whether he can do so depends on the wind, tide and currents here, I suppose,’ she murmured, recalling a conversation between two mariners in Liverpool when she was a girl.
‘Do you recall my telling you of the Celts who left their lands in the east?’ said Owain in conversational tones.
‘Aye.’ She glanced into his strong, determined features and wondered why he spoke of that now.
‘Some settled in Brittany. It, too, has its land of Finisterre.’
Her smile faded as she remembered the soaring cliffs and rocky coastline of Finisterre in Spain, and in her imagination she could picture the ship being smashed to pieces on rocks. ‘Why do you say that?’
He hastened into speech. ‘I thought it would be of interest to you. Do not fear. Brittany has many safe harbours and long stretches of beach, even small lowlying islands.’
His words achieved their aim, reassuring her. She remained at the side of the ship, gazing across the choppy surface of the water towards the coast. It was much closer now and she could make out the white spume being thrown into the air as waves crashed against rocks behind which cliffs soared to a hundred feet or more.
She had no idea how long they stood there in silence, keeping an eye on the distance between the ship and the shore as they sailed north. Only once did they move away to sit on a barrel apiece when the cook brought them some onion soup and tankards of small ale. Then suddenly the sun disappeared and Kate shivered, looking up to see muddy-looking clouds gathering. Owain rose and, taking her hand, lifted her to her feet. He put both arms round her from behind and she leaned against him, grateful for his warmth, but did not allow herself to read what she wanted in his action, telling herself he was just playing a part
. He suggested that she might like to go to the cabin, but she shook her head.
‘I’ll fetch you if the weather gets worse,’ he assured her.
‘Even so I’d rather stay here,’ she said firmly.
Owain did not insist, but moved away to stand at the ship’s side. ‘I think the tide has turned. I can smell the land,’ he said.
She followed him over. ‘The landscape is changing. I can see sand hills and fields instead of cliffs. I think all will be well after all.’
Kate spoke too soon. Within the hour the sky darkened and the rain came sheeting down. Owain hurried her beneath the awning, but the deluge of water was too much for the canvas to contain and came cascading onto the deck. The master was shouting to his men. It was almost impossible to see ahead; everywhere was grey. Suddenly there was a sound that reminded Kate of waves crashing onto a shore. The next moment the ship shuddered and lurched to starboard. The sea came pouring in and within minutes Kate was up to her thighs in water. Filled with trepidation, she clung to Owain.
One of the mariners clawed his way up the sloping deck. He gazed over the side and then looked in the master’s direction. ‘We’ve hit a sandbank,’ he shouted.
Kate glanced up at Owain and said in a trembling voice, ‘I imagined us founding on rocks, but not a sandbank. Yet I’ve heard of more ships doing so whilst trying to navigate the channels in the Mersey estuary than have hit rocks.’
‘Then you’ll know this ship is doomed. It will not be able to right itself now the sea is flooding in,’ he rasped. ‘No doubt there’ll be those ashore who will soon spot her and row out to see what they can salvage. My duty is to keep you safe. The crew must take care of themselves.’
‘What do you suggest?’ asked Kate.
‘Will you trust me?’ queried Owain.
She did not hesitate. ‘Aye.’
He seized her hand and, by dint of clinging to various items, they managed to make their way over to Merlin, who was frantically trying to keep his footing on the sloping deck. Owain caught hold of his tossing head and whispered soothing words of comfort and encouragement as he saddled up. To Kate’s relief the rain began to slacken and she watched the grey pall that hung over the sea start to lift as he helped her climb on to the horse and got up behind her.
She did not need telling to hold tightly, but clung to Merlin’s mane as Owain bent, untied the reins looped about a beam of wood, and wrapped them around his wrist. Then he dug in his heels. The horse needed no further encouragement, but plunged into the sea.
Kate surfaced, choking on water and gasping for breath. She still clutched Merlin’s mane and was aware of one of Owain’s arms about her waist. She could only pray that the horse could carry them both to land. What with the swell it was extremely difficult to see in which direction the coast lay, but the horse was now swimming strongly. She wondered if he could smell the sweet scent of grass and whether that was acting like a lodestone, drawing him to shore.
She could feel Owain’s chest against her back and was grateful for a share of his warmth. Already she could barely feel her toes, but his whispered words, ‘Courage, my heart!’ meant she was able to keep her fear of drowning under control. Whether the words were meant for her or the horse did not matter, she took them to her heart, knowing that endurance was what mattered at such a time. Every now and again she caught a glimpse of sand hills as the horse ploughed through the waves. Then she began to realise that Merlin was making heavy weather of swimming against the tide—and her nether regions were drenched. Would they be able to reach the shore before the horse’s strength gave out?
Then Owain spoke against her ear. ‘I’m going to swim the rest of the way. You stay with Merlin.’
He slipped into the sea and she felt bereft and colder, much colder. It could be that she would be warmer in the water out of the wind—and it would be better for the horse. Watching Owain swimming a short distance alongside Merlin gave her courage. Somehow she managed to release her hold on the horse’s mane and she slipped into the sea beside him. There was a swoosh and water went up her nose and into her mouth. She forced her head up, coughing and spluttering, and then she was striking out towards the shore. She turned her face towards Owain, determined not to take her eyes from him, praying fervently that they would both manage to reach the shore. He shouted something to her, but she did not catch the words for the sound of the sea. Every now and again his head would disappear, but then she caught sight of his dark curls plastered against the side of his face and the sight gave her strength.
The horse was swimming strongly now and she kept her eye on him as much as she could, as well. By the time Merlin was scrabbling for a footing on the sandy bottom Kate was exhausted, and struggling to stay afloat. Yet she was aware that Owain was only a few feet away.
Forcing her eyes wide open, she saw the horse now on the shore. The next moment she was aware that Owain was upright in the water which reached his chest. With sluggish movements she forced herself to stretch out a hand to him. He seized it and drew her towards him. Her feet touched bottom and then, hand in hand, they waded out of the sea. In a tangle of arms and legs she and Owain collapsed on the sandy shore.
Chapter Five
Neither Owain nor Kate moved for a long time. Then she became aware of the beating of his heart against her ear and of the evening sun warming her back through her sodden clothing. She lifted her head and looked into his face. His eyes were closed and thick dark eyelashes fanned his olive skin. She was filled with such a sense of warmth and gratitude towards him that she could not resist stroking his lean cheek with the back of her hand.
Owain’s eyelids lifted and he gazed at her. The expression in his eyes set her nerves tingling as she stared at him in frozen awareness. She wondered if he could feel the shudder of the heavy strokes of her heartbeat through their clothing.
His mouth eased into a smile and he reached up and cupped her face between his hands. ‘What is it?’ he asked, stroking her cheeks gently. There was such tenderness in that gesture that a lump rose in her throat and tears filled her eyes. ‘My poor Kate, what a time of it you’re having. I never thought you would be able to swim. Brave girl. Thank God, that in His mercy He has decreed that our lives on this earth are still of some use to Him, so there is no need to weep.’
So intense were her emotions she could only nod. But there were other ways of showing how she felt than speaking and, before she could have second thoughts, she pressed her lips against his. She never expected such an explosive reaction. Both his arms went round her and he brought her hard against him without breaking off the kiss. His mouth appeared to be about to devour hers as he forced her lips apart and his tongue licked rapidly along the rim of her inner lip before dallying with the tip of her tongue.
Her initial sense of shock quickly turned to pleasure and she dared to allow her tongue to return his salute. The low groan he gave echoed down her throat and roused a trembling response. Then he rolled her over in the sand so that he was on top of her. A wave lapped against her feet and vaguely she thought that perhaps they should move further up the beach. Then sensible thought fled as she experienced another of those devouring kisses. She surrendered herself utterly to the pleasure of being in his arms, giving no thought to discomfort or danger. Never had she experienced such feelings. Their kisses seemed to go on forever, deepening and slackening, so that every now and again she thought they were going to come to an end, but it was only so they could catch their breath.
Dear God in Heaven, how he wanted her, thought Owain, rolling over in the sand with her again. Maid or mistress?—echoed and re-echoed inside his head. His erection was such that she must be conscious of it. Yet as he gazed up into her face he saw no sign of revulsion; her lips were swollen from his kisses and her face was soft with desire. He dared to caress the outline of a nipple through the damp, ruined fabric of her gown.
A sigh escaped her and she caught his hand and pressed it over her breast. He marvelled that, without a word, she
had given him permission to go a little further. He could not deny himself so began to undo the fastenings of her gown with hasty fingers, then unlaced the bodice of her kirtle until her breasts fell into his hands like ripe apples. He brought one rosy peak to his lips and caressed it lightly with his tongue.
A low moan of pleasure issued between her lips, which caused him to pause for thought. Would a lady, married to Sir Roger, known for her piety, express such delight in the sins of the flesh? His other hand wandered down her back before lifting her skirts, He stroked the soft rounded curves of her buttocks. She pressed down hard against him and he groaned inwardly, wondering if she knew what she was doing to him as they rolled over in the sand again. She tempted him and he longed to see her body revealed in all its glorious nakedness.
Kate looked up at him and knew from the smouldering desire on his face that he wanted to couple with her. How did one think sensibly at such a time? The fact that she could rouse such longing within him made her feel more alive than she had ever done before and power swelled inside her—despite knowing that, if she surrendered to him then, it could be her downfall. When she had first bled from her secret place, her mother had explained that she would be cursed in such a way every month—unless a man got her with child. She had explained how that happened and it came as little surprise to Kate—for hadn’t she seen animals mating in the fields and noticed that young resulted from such an act? Yet never had she believed that coupling could be preceded by such urges and pleasure that bowled one along so there seemed to be no stopping until they were satisfied.
Owain lowered his head and caressed one rosy peak of her breast with his tongue before suckling, and setting her afire again. She was lost. Her body cried out for him. A tiny part of her mind was aware of the waves on the shore washing over their feet, the cry of the seabirds, the rattle of tiny pebbles and rocks shifting underfoot, of Merlin cropping the grass somewhere behind them, but she no longer felt part of that world. With Owain she was creating a different one that belonged solely to them.