Moonstone

by Olivia Stocum

  “’Tis not your fault, but you could have told me of her condition from the start.”

  “I did not believe it was up to me to reveal. I thought I should leave it to her.” She frowned at Rhiannon. “Maybe I should have. I let her down.”

  “Maybe we all did.” William rubbed his face with his hands. “Go on. Get some rest.”

  “Aye, my laird.” She curtsied, and then the door closed behind her.

  He watched the easy rise and fall of Rhiannon’s chest, thanking God she was alive. Sitting next to her, he brushed her hair out of the way. Then he bent close, nuzzling her bare shoulder.

  “I dinna know what to think, mo leannan,” he said.

  The idea of losing her had reverted him back to the heart of a weak child. It wasn’t easy to accept that kind of vulnerability in himself.

  William almost pulled up a chair, but it reminded him too much of sitting by her bedside at Geoffrey’s hall, and he couldn’t do it. He was tired too. Dead tired. He stripped out of his clothes and settled down next to her, tucking his arm over her waist.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Rhiannon came to awareness, she smelled spice mixed with the tinge of male skin. She felt the familiar weight of William’s arm around her waist as she lay on her side, him behind her.

  William’s breathing deepened and his arm tightened momentarily. She noticed that his knuckles were scabbed over. And that his arm was bare.

  “How are you?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

  Rhiannon felt her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. She had no memory of the stitch being removed. “I do not know, I haven’t moved yet. What happened to your hand?”

  He flexed his fingers. “I punched a wall.”

  “Why?”

  He leaned up on his elbow to look her in the face, then lifted his brows.

  “Because of me?”

  “Aye.” He pulled back. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

  Her gaze wandered over the plains of his chest before she looked away again. “How did the wall fair?”

  “Better than I did.” He was silent for a moment, laying on his back next to her. She was under the covers. He was on top. “Dinna risk yourself like that again.”

  “I did not have any choice.”

  “Aye, you did. You could have told me.”

  “And then what? What would that have changed? I still would have had to do something. Otherwise your people would never trust me. They would question the legitimacy of your heir, because of his illegitimate brother.”

  “Maybe I would have raised the child as my own, then no one would have had to know.”

  “There would be talk when it came two months too early.”

  “Let them think I compromised you.”

  Rhiannon looked over her shoulder at him, meaning to focus only on his face, but her eyes wandered anyway. “You met me a fortnight ago,” she said, skimming the length of him.

  “Who says?”

  “Your men, who would know.”

  “They will believe anything I tell them.”

  And she knew they would. Rhiannon rested her head on the pillow, the sculpted eddies of her husband’s body now locked into her mind. Eventually, he would need her. She could only pray that it wasn’t as painful as the things she’d experienced in the hands of womanhood thus far.

  “You never even gave me a chance,” he said. “You took a risk with your life, and you never even gave me a chance.”

  His disappointment bit.

  “It was your child too, you know.”

  She choked back tears. “I only wanted not to disappoint you.”

  “You have not . . .” William rolled out of bed. “Just no more secrets, please.”

  “I should go back to my room.”

  “Nay, stay here. That way I can keep an eye on you.” He came around the bed to face her.

  She looked away. “Alice can do that.”

  “Alice is hardly more than a child. I will take care of you myself.”

  “Am I to have no privacy at all?”

  He let out a breath, then finally seemed to notice that he should probably dress, and turned away.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” he said. “’Twas brutal.”

  “Far be it of me to inconvenience you.”

  He pulled his shirt over his head. “’Twas far more than an inconvenience. I lost both my parents to a fever when I was nine. I have lost more friends than I dare count. I thought I’d lost Ronan once. I willna loose you. If I have to keep you locked in this chamber, then I will.”

  Rhiannon felt like a prisoner again. “Will it make you better than Geoffrey?”

  “If I force, ’tis only for your own good.”

  Rhiannon pressed her face into the pillow. He returned, buckling his plaid into place. The mattress gave as he sat. His fingers smoothed over her hair. She heard his intake of breath, as if he was about to say something. Then he moved away. “I will bring us some food.”

  Rhiannon was glad when he left. He was acting like a bull pig. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door and it opened a crack. Triona stuck her head in. “May I come in?”

  “Aye.” Rhiannon wiped her eyes.

  Triona pulled up a chair and sat, lifting her brows at Rhiannon. “How is he taking this?”

  “I would rather not talk about it.”

  “I think we should.”

  “Stubborn, the whole lot of you.”

  Triona ignored her. “I have known William all my life. I mean literally all my life.”

  Rhiannon struggled to prop herself on one elbow. She stopped and breathed once she was there.

  “Lightheaded?”

  “Yes.”

  “My first babe, Brian, took a toll on me. It has gotten easier since then.”

  “How do you stand it?”

  “It gets easier.”

  “I canna be a wife.” Rhiannon straightened her chemise so that it covered both of her shoulders. “’Tis too painful.”

  Triona leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, watching Rhiannon with a level gaze. “Childbirth hurts. I will give you that, but a husband’s affection should not. If anything, it should make it worth the risk of another labor.”

  “I am well aware of this affection you speak of.”

  Triona’s green eyes softened. “I am sorry. What happened to you was wrong.”

  Rhiannon shrugged.

  “William is in love with you.”

  “I . . .”

  Triona nodded. “He is behaving like a bull with an arrow in his backside because of it. Ronan behaved in much the same way. Still does, when the mood strikes him.”

  “I will only hurt him. He should have left me behind. I would have gotten away from Geoffrey somehow.” She lowered her voice. “Or I would have died trying.”

  “And what a shame that would have been.”

  Rhiannon’s gaze snapped to Triona.

  “What William does with his free time is up to him. But from what I have observed over the last several years, he’s been in the habit of avoiding women all together.”

  “What do you mean by all together?”

  “It isn’t easy for a man like him. Most women want something from him. He needs a woman who would love him even if he were a poor man with naught but a stone hut and three sheep to his name.” Triona ran her hand over her braid, jingling the brass bells she had it tied off with.

  “He will come to despise me for what I cannot be for him,” Rhiannon said.

  “Or maybe, you will come to love him. ’Tis your choice, but I think the latter would be more fulfilling.”

  “What if I cannot share my body?” Rhiannon curled her fingers around the bed sheet. She wanted so badly to be brave enough, but what if she never was?

  “Then you let Geoffrey win. Why do you think he raped you?”

  “Lust.”

  “Why did he try to marry you afterwards?”

  “So no one else could have me, I sup
pose.”

  “Aye. Dinna let him win.”

  Rhiannon was speechless.

  William came through the door with a tray of food and a flagon, Rhiannon’s gaze training in on his tall, braw build.

  “Think about it,” Triona said. She stood and spoke to William in hushed tones before leaving the room. The door closed behind her and William frowned at it.

  Rhiannon groaned. “I cannot believe it.”

  “Believe what?”

  Rhiannon put the pillow over her face, speaking into it. “I forgot to have her help me to the chamber pot.”

  She heard the sound of the bolt on the door sliding into place. What was he thinking? She pushed the pillow back far enough to look at him with one eye.

  “Come,” he said.

  He was addled.

  William removed the pillow from her hands. Her broken arm was wrapped, but there was no sling. She was bedridden and it would only make it hard for her to sleep.

  “You are not going to help me.”

  “I am.”

  “William,” she gritted. “I am still bleeding.”

  He gave her a look of resignation. “Then I can keep track of it.”

  Too many years on the battlefield had hardened him beyond reason. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d held men down whilst they had limbs amputated. Or amputated them himself.

  “But you . . . we . . . are not, have not . . .”

  “I am well aware that we have not.” He lifted one brow as he slipped his arms under her. Bringing his face close to hers, he gathered her into his chest. She became suddenly aware of the sound of their combined breaths, as well as the beating of her heart.

  Her face flushed. “William?”

  He kissed her forehead. “For once, just let me help you.”

  * * *

  “I cannot move,” Rhiannon said, lying, dizzy and defeated on her stomach. A lock of hair was trapped between her broken arm and the pillow, pulling at her temple.

  William carefully freed her hair. “Aye, you can. You have to eat.” He slipped one arm between her rib cage and the mattress and moved her onto her back, propped against the pillows. She didn’t even try to stop him. What point was there now? The man had helped her use the champed pot for goodness sake!

  He handed her a goblet of wine and she sipped at it, humiliated. William set a wooden tray between them on the bed. After she took a few more swallows he removed the wine from her good hand and handed her an earthen bowl.

  “Gruel?”

  “Aye.” He passed her a spoon.

  “I do not like gruel.”

  “I was raised on it. Now eat.”

  She dished lukewarm porridge into her mouth while giving him dirty looks over her spoon. It might as well have been mud as far as her stomach was concerned. William broke apart a loaf of bread and handed her a piece. She set the bowl on her lap.

  “I know you’re frustrated with me right now,” he said. “But you misused something very important to me, and I canna just stand by and allow it.”

  She frowned at her bread, set it aside, and picked up her wine instead. He caught her bowl before it tipped and spilled sticky oats and barley onto her lap.

  “When will you understand?” he whispered.

  Rhiannon shoved the goblet at him, then hugged her knees against her chest. “Why do men want to posses me? My father used to call me Psyche because of it.”

  His eyes widened. “How many men did your father have to defend you from, lassie?”

  “They came around.” She looked away. “My brother ran them off.”

  William took up his cup and drank all the wine in it, then he drank hers too. He set both goblets on the tray, and leaned back against the headboard. “You are verra beautiful.”

  “I have not felt beautiful in a long time, at least not like I used to. I feel like an object.”

  He was quiet, his brow drawn in thought. “There is more between lovers than physical pleasure.” He paused. “I should hope.”

  His admission made her drop her guard. She could see how it would be hard for a man in a position of power. How would he know whether or not he could trust any woman deeply enough to lay himself open for her?

  “I dinna know why Geoffrey did this to you,” he said. “But for me you are . . .”

  Her heart hammered in uneven beats, and all she saw were his gray eyes. “I am what?” Tell me, please.

  He looked away. “Never mind.”

  She watched the side of his tight face and thought about what Triona had said. It made her wonder . . . “How long have you been chaste?”

  “Rhiannon,” he warned.

  “Triona told me.”

  “Of course she did.”

  “As your wife, do I not have the right to know?”

  “Why would you need to?”

  She checked herself before she throttled him. “Because it involves me.”

  “So you can give in to me out of guilt?”

  “So I can know you better, you fool man!”

  He winced. His skull hit the headboard with a thump. Outside, a gust of wind rattled the window. “Six years,” he said.

  William rolled out of bed, Rhiannon catching the tray before it spilled over. He stopped in front of the hearth with his hands on the mantel.

  “Who was she? Your last . . . conquest.”

  “Rhiannon, please.”

  “Nay, you please.”

  He looked at her from over his shoulder, eyes pleading.

  “You know my secrets. ’Tis only fair that I know yours.”

  He turned to face her, hands at his sides. “I was seduced.” He screwed his face up. “Nay, I drank too much, not that I wouldna have agreed had I been fully sober.”

  “What happened?”

  “Two wenches in the village had thought to raise their lot in life.” He didn’t look at her.

  Two? Rhiannon held her tongue.

  “They hoped that if one of them bore me a son, that son could become laird, should some ill fate befall me before I could produce a legitimate heir.”

  He spoke of his own demise with such ease. She hugged her knees close. “Go on.”

  “They almost got what they wanted.” He stared over her head. “Deborah was with child. But she died giving birth. The bairn, a lad, died with her.”

  His son.

  William’s son.

  “Did you . . .” She couldn’t say it.

  “I didna love her.” It took him no time at all to reply.

  Relief flooded her. Why was that so important to her? Did she want to be his only love? Was that selfish of her? She didn’t entirely understand the nature of his relationship with Triona either, and that bothered her.

  He moved toward her like a man who waded through chest-deep water, then sank on the edge of the bed.

  “Please, come here,” she said. “Because I think you need someone to hold you.”

  The tray was moved and he was at her side in lightning speed. He stretched out alongside her and Rhiannon laid her cheek on his chest.

  “You have never done this before,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “You were not ready.”

  “Nay, I was not.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Can you stand for a few minutes, so that the seamstress can measure you?” Alice asked.

  “I don’t know, I have not cleared standing with the lord and master,” Rhiannon said, rolling her eyes.

  Alice laughed and helped her up from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. “I am sure he will understand.”

  After nearly a week, Rhiannon was still sore, as if she’d spent that horrible night running for her life, rather than bleeding in a bed. Alice tucked a steadying arm around Rhiannon.

  “I am Fay, my lady,” said a rotund woman holding a measuring tape in her hand. “And I will be quick about this.” She nodded, her double chin wobbling.

  “Yes, I have heard that before. If William walks in he will be fi
t to be tied,” Rhiannon said. “I’m noo to be oot of this bed without him,” she exaggerated her words in a rendition of his brogue.

  As much as she appreciated the way he wanted to take care of her, she still felt like he was forcing her hand, and that didn’t settle well.

  Fay came forward to begin her measurements.

  “She is much slimmer than usual,” Alice said quietly.

  “I thought as much, judging by her bone structure.” Fay took more measurements, then looked her over. She came to Rhiannon’s shoulder and had to arch her neck back to do it. “I had better fashion them as I do my Lady Triona’s gowns.” She planted her hands on her ample hips. “I take her gowns in and out more times than a cuckoo leaves its clock.” She shook her head and muttered, “Have to go do it again right now.”

  What? Triona was on her fourth child in four years? Did it ever stop?

  The room spun and grew fuzzy. Alice caught Rhiannon’s hands, helping her onto the bed. Before she had the chance to catch her breath, the door opened. Rhiannon didn’t have to look up to know it was William. Anyone else would have knocked first.

  He stopped just inside their chamber, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. Muscles in his arms flexed against the linen of his shirt. Alice dismissed herself. Fay shook her head and walked away, muttering something about new babies and measurements.

  William closed the door. “You are not supposed to be out of bed when I am not here.” One dark brow lifted as if daring her to defy him.

  She dared. “I want to go outside.”

  His leather jerkin creaked as he unfolded his arms.

  “You can carry me if you must.” And she knew that he must, because she was still too weak. The only reason why she asked in the first place was because of the look on his face. He was practically begging her to test him.

  “’Tis cold.” He shifted, and the floorboard squeaked under his weight. “It snowed last night.”

  “Wrap me in fleece. You will anyway.”

  He leaned toward her, then planted his hands on the mattress, one on either side of her hips.

  “Take me outside,” she said. “I want to see Triona’s gardens before they’re completely covered in snow.”