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Ryann rode through the gates and thundered toward the village. Marcus had been so distracted by Alena, he finally told her of Garrick's meeting with the king. She saw the apprehension on Marcus's face when he shared this news with her, so she decided she would meet Garrick there, or join him on the way back. Luck was on her side when Garrick trotted into view on the trail. He brought the snorting Malik to a halt beside Fleet, and moved him in close so he was face to face with Ryann.
"Why do you not have men with you to protect you?" he demanded, his face looked furious.
"I was looking for you so you would protect me."
"Never go about even one moment unprotected."
"Yes milord," she said with a smile, as she looked up at him.
His strong hands seized her by the shoulders and pulled her from Fleet smoothly onto his lap. His strong arms secured her there as his lips claimed her, making her heart stop for a fraction of time, before it started hammering as his arms tightened more, and he demanded she give up her defenses. She did so gladly, Opening her mouth so his tongue invaded it, and a moan was torn from her. She felt his response as he hardened beneath her lap. She wanted her husband here and now, she did not care who would see, she wanted him filling her, claiming her.
He shifted her, his deft fingers sliding up the inside of her leg, growing anticipation. She felt keen longing as his fingers moved back down, away from her thighs and beyond. But shock, and an even deeper yearning began within the pit of her stomach and spreading outward, when his other hand yanked her head back with his hand twined in her hair and nipped her lower lip, before he demanded again. She moaned within his mouth and her legs fell open wider for her husband’s entry. Slowly his fingers moved upward. Frustration built again when he stopped, but his tongue was filling her mouth, flicking over hers, taunting it, until she advanced with hers and he deftly sucked it into his own mouth. He groaned, and for a moment seemed to melt around her. What a deep, gentle sound, his need that matched her own. She claimed his lips as he did hers, sucking and stroking it as she pulled away. Another moan, full of his need, escaped him before he pulled her back and plunging between her lips, making her melt into his arms. The hand between her legs began upward again, redirecting her focus off her mouth for how many times she could not count. Her mind was in a whirlwind.
Malik shifted beneath them and suddenly Garrick was stiff, his body and soul shut away from her quicker than a shutter could be closed. He was turning Malik, his thighs beneath her giving the commands, as she struggled to gather her wits back together. "Ride," he said, lifting her, and for a moment she was suspended in air before she was in Fleet's saddle, her skirt hiked up around her waist. She had no time to think, hearing Garrick's sword slide from his sheath and the command again, "Ride." It was a command not to be argued with, and she did not hesitate to lay her heels to her horse's sides as she heard the roar of the attackers. It was as if they reached for her, but Fleet lived up to his name and they were left in his dust.
All the way to the walls of Fenton she raced, thundering into the courtyard she spied Roland first. Skidding to a stop she ignored the roving eyes as they took in her bare legs. "They've attacked Garrick."
The salacious smirk was off his face and he was reaching for the horse standing nearby. "Send some men toward the village," he ordered the nearby stable boy, as he agilely swung into the saddle. Together they thundered beneath the portcullis. He was gone. Garrick was gone, just as if he had never been there. She looked overhead, at the spread of the branches. Yes, this was the place, she could almost feel his lips upon her again.
"It was here," Ryann said, in a near panic as she turned Fleet about.
"Get back to Fenton. Send the men on," Roland ordered her.
"No, I will help you search."
Defiance was not welcomed by this man either. "Get your ass back where it belongs or I will gladly turn you over my knee and make that delectable mound red as a tomato." His voice promised this retribution, and his eyes promised so much more. "Now go!" He drove his horse on, leaving her sitting on Fleet in the middle of the road indignant. The other men passed her with her waving them on. Christopher stopped and escorted her back to the keep. She was grateful for his silent company.
She spent the rest of her day pacing before the gates of Fenton. Marcus and Halvor organized the search, and turned every hovel within the village and beyond inside out. Her goal of improving the food at Fenton went unaccomplished, for her mind could not escape the danger Garrick was in. Was he already dead? Her knees nearly buckled at the thought, and she grabbed a piece of the iron gate, and held onto it for dear life. She squeezed her eyes closed, forcing the bleakest thoughts from her mind. They would find him. They had to find him. If they did not find him, the King would send someone else for her to marry, especially now that she had so many properties he could just hand over to another man to manage. But she wanted none other than Garrick. The thought of another man touching her terrified her. She could never care for another man as she did Garrick, even in their short time together.
"Countess, the noon meal is waiting for you."
Ryann spun around and eyed Christopher standing before her. He no longer looked like the dashing hero she remembered him being. How could he be after she knew a man such as Garrick? "Tell them to go ahead and serve the meal. I cannot eat."
"But you have to eat," Christopher said, severely overstepping his bounds in his concern.
"I cannot eat nor will I eat until I have word of my husband," she snapped at him. He rose to his full height, his face no longer held concern, but the impassive look of a soldier following orders.
"As you say my lady." He turned and left her blessedly alone. It seemed an eternity, or perhaps only moments, she could not say, when torches were lit around the courtyard and dusk was settling upon it, and still no word came.
Ryann found herself sometime later staring out into the darkness. It was such a dark night clouds blotted out the moon. She wanted to cry for him. Was he hurt?
"Ryann," Alena said, as she stepped out into the courtyard, Christopher following in her wake. Her eyes narrowed on him. She knew what this was about, and Christopher put her up to it.
"I heard you refuse to eat."
"I know what little birdie told you," she said, her ire rising at his meddling. "But I will wait here until I hear news. Besides, I am not hungry."
"I must insist."
"It is best if you do not," Ryann said, her eyes flying back to the darkness beyond the courtyard. She heard the rapid approach of horses. It was just moments later the horses entered the light cast by the torches. She scanned each rider for Garrick, but he was not among them, but his horse Malik was. Marcus dismounted and the last group of men who were out searching for Garrick was back, letting the darkness have him.
Marcus's gait was not its usual confident stride. He came to her, his men already walking away, he shot Alena and Christopher a command to leave them with his eyes. Alena hesitated but with Christopher's quick retreat, she too turned and left the two alone in the courtyard. Ryann felt faint as he turned his attention on her. She saw the weariness in his eyes.
Suddenly he was kneeling on a knee at her feet, his head bowed as if he were ready to pray. "Forgive me my lady. We looked everywhere and could find no trace of him." He blamed himself, it was in his voice.
Ryann drew herself up. "Then we shall be out by the breaking of dawn tomorrow," she said, finding strength in her voice she though Garrick might be proud of.
Marcus nodded and rose back to his feet. He was a warrior just like Garrick. He was not shrouded in darkness, but seemed to embrace the light. He was a man who laughed often and was beyond kind. Why couldn't she marry a man like him? But she didn't want a man like him, she wanted Garrick with an intensity that made her want to cry out.
She ate with Marcus and his men, despite the unappetizing food, but she did not think that had anything to do with the women who were now tasked with cooki
ng the meals. Marcus was as morose as she, while the others chatted as if their lord was not missing. She knew the world had not come to a standstill, but hers had, and she just wanted to be alone.
"I think we should send a messenger for Damien and his men," Marcus said, as he drained yet another mug of ale.
"Do you think that is necessary?" she asked giving up the pretense of eating, and rested her hands on the table on either side of her trencher, as she looked at the man beside her.
Marcus shrugged and she saw his fatigue and worry written plainly on his face. How deeply this man cared for her husband, she knew it now if she had had any doubts before. "I would rather we not need them than waste precious time for them to get here."
Ryann saw the wisdom in this reasoning. "Then we will send someone. When should we do this?"
"Immediately," he said standing. "I will see to it." He nodded to himself before he strolled away.
Her legs felt wooden as she climbed her way up the stairs to the chamber. She wanted Garrick to find his rest here in its luxury. Now it was just empty, and despite all the comforts she had brought that warmed the once stark room, it was bare. She sat heavily onto the edge of the bed, and wondered again who would take a man such as Lord Garrick. He was a man others might seek to kill, but to kidnap was a different matter all together.
She did not know how long she sat there, staring across the room, but not seeing anything before her. The same question ran back and forth through her mind till she thought she would go mad, or burst into tears. Why?
Chapter 13
By the time Damien arrived with a contingent of men, Ryann had to admit to herself she was not holding up well at all. The keep was managing itself well enough. With the women in their new roles they came to her often, but she could never recall later their dilemmas, or her resolutions. She moved about in a haze, if it were not for Sara she would probably not even remember to tend to herself. She found she could not eat, despite her maid pleading with her to do so, and Marcus and Christopher's demands that she comply. When she retired for the night she lay awake, staring up at the flickering light on the ceiling long after it faded with the flames of the hearth, and still there was no sign of her husband.
The commotion in the courtyard roused her, but once she heard it was only Damien she sank back into the large stuffed chair by the hearth in the hall. It did not matter, she had been surprised that so shortly her husband had become such a crucial part of her life, nothing seemed to matter without him near.
"Ryann?" the familiar female voice said from nearby.
Ryann searched for a brief moment to identify the speaker in the hall that had grown crowded as the evening meal was being served. Her eyes fell on Alena, standing with another lady beside her.
"Countess Ryann, this is Lady Keri, Lord Damien's wife."
"I am pleased to meet the infamous Lord Garrick's wife," she said, stepping forward and taking a seat in the chair next to her.
Ryann tried to bring forth a smile, then began to introduce herself, but the words died on her lips because she had just been introduced. The woman had a spattering of light freckles on her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. Very subtle, but they were there.
"I hear there is still no news of Lord Garrick," she said, leaning forward to study her with her light brown eyes.
Ryann only shook her head, staring back at this woman.
"I see you have grown quite fond of Lord Garrick," Keri stated, and Ryann knew it was evident for someone who didn't even know her. Who else could exist in the world full of other people, yet not care to be near them, what they said, what they did? She wanted to crawl into the nearest hole, close her eyes and forget everything, but she could no more forget her turmoil than she could forget her own name.
"Don't fear, Damien will help Marcus to find him. There is no place anyone can hide him."
Ryann's eyes turned up toward the other woman's, and suddenly the tears began to flow freely, something that had yet to happen throughout her long wait. "What if he is dead?" she managed to get out between her quiet sobs.
"He is not dead. Damien and I agree if they wanted him dead he would have been killed, and not taken. They wanted him alive, for what purpose I cannot begin to know, but it seems as if this is the case. Can you deny our reasoning?"
She shook her head. It was sound reasoning, the same Marcus kept trying to assure her with. It did not help because Marcus knew nothing more than she did. He was just as useless as she in the waiting game.
A quick glance at Alena told her the woman had grown uncomfortable with the shedding of her tears. She could not even garner any sympathy for the woman. She felt anger bubbling up inside. These women were just as useless in this situation as she and Marcus were. Why could someone not be sent who would know where to find her husband? Someone who would know instantly what to do? She glanced behind her at the crowded hall and to the dais where she saw Damien and Marcus seated. It seemed as if any spark of hope she had died on seeing the two there, doing nothing but filling their bellies. How could they do such a thing when she herself found no appetite?
"I told you to go find someone else's knee to cry upon."
Ryann had become all too familiar with Roland's anger, and she turned to see him stumble to his feet, his hands held before him. Suddenly she saw his anger for what it was, much like her own anger, it stemmed from fear. Two small children were seated beside the spot he just vacated. The little girl suddenly burst into tears and the boy put an arm around her to comfort her, while shooting a glare at Roland. Were these his two children?
"Those are Roland's children," Alena confirmed behind her. Before Roland stalked away, something made him turn toward her, and they locked eyes for the briefest of moments before he stormed from the hall.
"Do they have no one to care for them?" Ryann asked, turning to the other two women.
"His son is proud like his father despite his young age. He refuses any charity since Damien sent his father with Garrick."
"They are welcome to stay here," she heard herself say. "Perhaps with their father in service to us, they will let me care for them."
She did not wait for the other woman's reply, but stood on her shaky legs and made her way to the table where they sat. She slipped quietly onto the bench beside them, and felt a comfort start to fill her. This was her element, where she was most comfortable, surrounded by children. She nearly burst into tears when the thought raced through her mind that she may never be surrounded by her own. She knew that not to be true, for the King would see to that. They just might not be Garrick's. This being the same king who killed the mother of these children, just to set an example, filled her with fear she had to shove away.
"You arrived with Lord Damien?" she asked, distracting them as they watched their father's retreating back.
The boy turned to her, his eyes wide and shining bright with his unshed tears, as he fought to be strong. The boy could be no more than seven, the girl had to be four at the oldest, and she appeared very small as she pressed close to her brother.
"I am Lady Ryann, and you are?"
The boy visibly straightened. "I am Will," he said and she got a strong feeling he was reluctant to be speaking to her.
"And who is the young lady at your side?" she asked.
"Jill, my sister," he said, and he cast a weary glance toward the entrance of the hall, at their father's voice raised in anger again.
"This is a tough time for your father."
"Do you know?" he asked, turning his attention back to her.
"Some of it," she said, then clarified, "What Garrick has told me."
"You are Lord Garrick's new wife?" he asked, the awe evident in his voice.
"I am."
"Does he frighten you?" he asked, patting his sister’s leg before pointing her back to her trencher. She shook her head briskly, and pressed herself closer to Will.
"No, he is not so frightening."
"Father frightens me now that mother i
s gone."
"Do you think it is because he loved her?" Ryann asked.
"I think it is because he saw what we saw, and could do nothing. He is a man who could always do something."
"You saw your mother killed?"
The boy nodded. "I am sorry. Give your father time, he must deal with your mother's death in his own way."
Anger that mirrored his father's flashed across the boy's face, as he shot to his feet and his little fist slammed onto the top of the table. "Who gives us time? Father has not spoken to us as our father since mother is gone. Who comforts us? Who gives us a chance to deal with our grief?"
His little body shook with the rage he had apparently held in since the terrible day he lost both his parents. A quick glance to Jill showed she seemed to shrink in on herself, and sat slumped over, staring at her tiny hands, as her thin body shook with her grief and she guessed fear. Ryann moved to reach for him, but he took a step backward, raising a hand to angrily slap her hand away. Such rage she saw in him, and she suspected this might be the first time he was showing this to anyone. His blue eyes flashed, but they weren’t the vibrant blue of their father’s, but more of a turquoise that matched his sisters.
"I will give you a chance if you will allow me."
Confusion crept across his countenance as he studied her. Suddenly his body seemed to crumble and he was falling toward her. Instinctively Ryann caught him and pulled his tiny body against her, and that was when the flood of tears began. She looked up to find Marcus standing nearby. Collecting the boy in her arms, she nodded her head to the girl, and standing she carried the grief stricken child toward her chamber. Marcus entered just behind her with Jill, whose only concern at that point was for her brother who could not seem to stop his grief. Ryann moved to the bed and sat down with him, settling him into her lap. Jill immediately climbed up beside them when Marcus released her, and pressed herself as close to Will as she could, her body shaking.
"Can I bring you anything else my lady?"
Angie Arms - Flame Series 03 Page 18