“I’ll tell you in a moment. Patience.”
He looked around at the villagers milling about and lowered his voice. “You’re not here to seek absolution for what you did at the pond, are you?”
Her hand tingled at the memory, and heat crept up her neck and into her face. “No, though I’d rather not discuss it so near the church.”
“Right. Forgive me.”
“Lady Constance!” Father Leof came out of nowhere and hastened toward them. “Sir Robert, so good to see you here.”
Robert gave him a nod. “Thank you, Father. Her ladyship insisted.”
She stepped forward. “Father, is anyone using the church?”
He shook his head. “There was a meeting earlier, but ’tis empty now. Are you going in?”
“For a little while.”
“Both of you?”
She exchanged a glance with Robert. “Aye. Both of us.”
The priest beamed, first at her and then at Robert. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear that!”
She couldn’t help but smile. Father Leof had talked of luring Robert to church ever since they arrived at Druid’s Head.
Averting his gaze, Robert shifted from one foot to the other.
Leof regarded him. “You look uncomfortable, but don’t be. I have much to do elsewhere, so you’ll have the place to yourselves. Do take your time. And do look to your right as you enter the south door. There’s a fine carving of the Virgin and Child. And to the left is an angel carving. And…forgive me. I’m rambling.”
Robert gave him a searching look, then made a dismissive gesture. “Not at all.” He reached for Belfry’s lead rope.
Leof lurched forward. “I’ll tie up the horses. You go on inside.” He gave Constance a look that seemed to say, Make haste, before he changes his mind!
She grinned. “Thank you, Father. Come, Sir Robert.”
Side by side, they approached the south entrance.
Robert halted in front of the arched doorway and turned to her. “Now will you tell me?”
She pointed to the entrance. “Inside.”
They entered the church, and Robert closed the door behind him. He scanned the whitewashed interior. “’Tis larger than I expected. Cooler too.”
“And blessedly quiet.”
“Like a tomb.” He stared in the direction of the altar.
“Not the reaction I was hoping for, but at least you’re still here.”
He turned to her. “Why am I?”
She laid a hand on his solid arm. “For no sinister purpose, I assure you.”
“Father Leof practically tripped over himself to get me through the door.”
“His intentions are quite different from mine. I only wanted to share with you one of my favorite things.”
“Which is?”
She dropped her arm. “This church is often abustle, but in calm moments, I love to kneel and—”
“If there were benches, you could sit.”
“I don’t mind. As I was saying, I kneel and close my eyes.”
“And pray?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes, but I prefer to quiet my thoughts and listen.”
“To what?”
“Anything. Nothing. Whatever God wants me to hear. At such times, I feel closer to Him.”
Robert looked away. “How nice for you.” There was darkness in his tone.
“I’m not trying to convert you.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“I want to share this part of myself with you…and perchance give you a modicum of peace.”
He crossed his arms. “There is no peace for me…not of that mold.”
“There could be…if you allowed it.” She knelt on the straw-covered floor. “Come. Join me.” Please.
Through narrowed eyes, he regarded her knees, and then her face. Did he hold his breath? She was holding hers.
He relaxed his arms. Slowly, he genuflected.
“I cannot!” He shot back up as though the floor burned his knee.
“You mean you will not.”
“You know why, Constance.”
She folded her arms. “Why won’t you let go of the past?”
“Why won’t you?”
Her stomach churned. “That’s different.”
“Not from where I stand.”
She stood up “List, I know you aren’t religious. And while the majority do believe, you’re not alone in your convictions. Nevertheless, there is something out there.” She gestured to the stone walls. “And in here.” She raised a hand to her chest. “In here too. Meg calls it magic. Lord Nihtscua talks of Woden. I say ‘God’ because I always have. Call it what you will, but ’tis a very real force anyone can tap.”
“You only think ’tis real.”
She shook her head. “This goes beyond thought. ’Tis powerful and profound. I’ve felt it, Robert. In churches. In nature. At Woden’s Circle and Woden’s Pond. And I feel it within me, especially during prayer and meditation. It reminds me that I’m connected to everyone and everything.”
“Even to me?”
“Even to Dominy, as much I hate him.”
Robert frowned. “If you feel so connected to me, why did you lie last night?”
“Last night…”
“About standing speechless beside the bed.”
She threw her hands into the air. “I already told you, I didn’t do that.”
“Well, someone was there!”
“Mayhap ’twas the ghost.”
He huffed. “Ghosts do not exist.”
“You’re wrong. I’ve seen her.”
His eyes narrowed. “Her?”
“Twice…and the first time was in our bedchamber. Perhaps she returned to—”
“She did not return because there is no ghost!”
“There is!” She stamped her foot, and the straw rendered a loud crunch.
He ran a hand through his black hair. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but—”
“There’s that word again: think. As if I couldn’t possibly know more about it than you. You must see me as some addle-minded female who—”
“I do not!”
“If you cannot believe in God or ghosts or even your own spirit, at least believe in me. I spoke true last night.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. He clenched his hands into fists, then relaxed them. “Constance.”
She lifted her chin. “Robert.”
“I never said your mind was addled—”
“You didn’t have to.”
He sighed. “Will you let me finish? I don’t know what you saw…twice…but you must’ve fooled yourself into—”
“Fooled myself?” Heat claimed her body. “Perhaps I was a fool to marry you!”
His face turned red. “What are you saying?”
“You doubt my word and belittle my beliefs. How can I spend my life with someone who does that?”
“And how can I spend mine with someone who fears my touch?”
Her hands found her hips. “I don’t wholly fear it.”
He rolled his eyes. “You act as if ’twere hellfire. God’s blood, Woman! I am not Archdeacon Dominy!”
“Then who are you, acting thus? Certainly not the man I thought I married!”
He stepped backward. “’Twould be easy enough to get our marriage annulled, if that’s what you want.”
The words scorched her heart. “I don’t know what I want!”
He glowered at her for a long moment. “Be sure to inform me when you do.” He strode to the door and swung it open with the full force of his anger. Without a backward glance, he stomped outside and slammed the door behind him.
The bang echoed inside the empty church and deep within her as she stared at the oaken door. She sank to her knees as the tears came.
Why did I bring him hither? I knew the risk in doing so, yet I persisted. Why?
He couldn’t bear to kneel beside her, to allow himself the peace she knew a part of him sou
ght. And he refused to acknowledge the possibility that a spiritual world stood right alongside the physical one. That view—her view—clashed with the bitterness he nursed, which kept God at bay.
But ’tis his life, his choice. And I could be wrong about what he needs. Mayhap I’m projecting my own wish to heal onto him.
His abrupt departure held a threat, an undercurrent of finality. He offered her an annulment, which he never would’ve mentioned unless he’d previously considered it. His patience had run out, and she was no longer worth the trouble. He wanted his freedom, and who could blame him?
I am but half a woman. Afraid of his desires. Afraid of mine. Haunted by a past I cannot seem to shake.
Her gaze flew to the angel carving beside the door. Yet I must! I need to purify my mind and body, cleanse myself of all that passed before. But how? Dear God, how?
The air inside the church shifted. It felt cooler, calmer.
The triquetra symbol flashed in her mind, and Meg’s counsel resounded. She sniffled and wiped away her tears.
Every day, I have the power to create myself anew. To step outside of time and choose who I want to be.
Hope, subtle and surreptitious, moved inside her. The time had come to shed her fear and doubt. To love and be loved without reservation. Before ’twas too late.
The “how” would reveal itself. It had to. She’d find it in contemplation, through communion with the stillness that always brought answers.
****
Twilight descended on Woden’s Pond as Robert rounded the far side for what had to be the hundredth time. He followed the path between the water and the Long Wood, and like each time previous, the sweet scent of bluebells reminded him of his wife.
She’d missed supper. He might as well have, for he’d managed only three bites of stew before the heaviness in his chest and stomach forbade further consumption. The fury he felt upon leaving Preostbi had converted to a host of other emotions.
Frustration. Remorse. Disquiet. Longing.
In turns, they grabbed hold of him. At table, in the solar, in the bailey, and here beside the pond, where he circled and circled seeking…
What exactly? Acceptance? Resolution? Pardon for his inexcusable behavior at the church?
Constance must still be there. Doing what? Praying? Listening, as she claimed to do? Did she bemoan their blighted marriage? Even now, she might be pouring out her woes to Father Leof.
The good priest would surely comfort her. But that’s my place. My responsibility. A woman should be able to share her misfortunes with her husband so he might help her through them.
Where was that sense of responsibility in the church? Whither fled his patience? Why couldn’t he just kneel on that harmless, straw-covered floor and rest by her side? He could’ve compromised, emptied his mind, and perchance found some measure of peace. But no! His pride forbade it.
His vile words rushed back to him. How he must’ve sounded!
“You only think ’tis real.” Translation: Your beliefs are inferior to mine.
“Why did you lie last night?” I don’t trust you.
“You must’ve fooled yourself.” Your dimwitted mind had to be mistaken.
“I am not Archdeacon Dominy!” So let me bed you already!
“’Twould be easy enough to get our marriage annulled.” My promises are jests, easily shed at the first hardship.
Whyever did he use that word? Annulled. Negated. Dissolved into utter failure and emptiness. He should never have suggested it. Never!
He paused beside one of the oaks at the front of the pond. She must think me a monster! A walking malady in knight’s attire.
With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the rough, enduring bark of the tree. The evening air was warm, but cooler now that the sun sought its rest. Above, the leaves of the ancient oaks hung in silence.
Inevitably, the pond drew his gaze. He contemplated the water for some time, until a lone swan appeared, gliding over the surface from left to right.
’Twas a creature of grace and beauty, perhaps unaware—like Constance—of how lovely it truly was. The soft light transfigured the bird’s reflection, turning it into a shadow that slunk along the water beside the original. Like a dutiful servant, the silhouette cleaved to the swan and followed its progress across the pond.
Like the dark memories that followed his wife around. And the bitterness that swallowed him when he pondered his break with the Church.
If only she could discard that shadow. If only he could shed his own.
There was movement near the bridge. Constance!
She crossed the bridge and disappeared behind a patch of tall shrubs, then reappeared on the opposite shore. Pausing at the water’s edge, she pulled off her boots and stockings. Her headdress followed, and then her yellow gown, inner tunic, and chemise. Lastly, she freed her hair of its braid and let it fall in lovely, brown waves over her shoulders.
His breath caught in his throat. She grew more beautiful each time he saw her.
In all her naked glory, she waded into the water until only her head was visible.
What is she doing? She cannot swim.
Slowly, she sank below the surface.
He bolted away from the tree. His heart pounding, he sprinted to the far side of the pond. By the time he reached the shore, she stood ankle deep in the water, ornamented by scores of droplets and rivulets.
“Robert!”
“Constance,” he panted.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Likewise.” He caught his breath. “For a moment, I thought…”
She looked askew at him. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.” His manhood awoke as his gaze roamed her body. She was perfect…and she didn’t cover herself. “You seem comfortable in your nakedness. What has changed?”
“Everything.” The water swished as she stepped from the pond. “I have no wish to hide from you. Not anymore.”
“Oh?”
“Just now, I cleansed myself…symbolically.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Slowly, she approached him. “I wanted to be pure again, free from my past and from all inhibitions.” She stopped an arm’s length away. “I’m done with fear.”
He took a step toward her. “Just like that?”
She nodded. “Not that I don’t feel a twinge of nerves standing before you thus. But it shall not rule me.”
Her courage and candor warmed him. “You amaze me.”
“I also hurt you…with the words I spoke earlier. I deeply regret them.”
“I regret what I said, too. You’ve no idea how much.”
A smile touched her luscious lips. “Oh, I can imagine.” She sobered. “You told me to inform you when I knew what I wanted. Well, I know now. I want you.”
His heart twisted. “Me?”
“I want a life with you. A marriage of minds and hearts…and bodies.”
He held his breath. This could be the most important moment of my life.
“’Tis still my turn to pick a favorite thing, so I choose to feel your arms around me again.” Her gaze dropped to his tunic. “Doff your clothes, Robert.”
His eyes widened. He couldn’t speak.
“Please.” Her wet chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “I’m asking you…to make love to me.”
His pulse raced. He swallowed hard, and his speech returned. “You offer me what I want most. But are you sure you want it?”
Her heart shone through her golden eyes. “In all my life, I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Chapter Fourteen
Constance stared into Robert’s steel-gray eyes. His beautiful soul danced within them.
“Come with me.” He reached out his hand.
She took it. ’Twas strong and warm. Reassuring. Her heart beat wildly as he led her into the Long Wood. The twilight dimmed among the trees, but she could see well enough.
A short way in, he stopped and turned t
o her. “You won’t mind crushing a few bluebells?”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Not if it means lying with you.”
He flashed her a grin. With all haste, he removed his clothes and laid his red tunic on the ground. Straightening, he regarded her. His gaze revered her body; her gaze riveted on his stiff manhood.
“Constance?”
“You look…huge.”
His large hands caressed her shoulders. “One step at a time. Remember?”
Aye. I remember. And you are not the man who hurt me. You are the gift I never expected.
His lips met hers in a tender kiss. Melting into it, she slipped her arms around him and opened her mouth to invite him in.
He moaned and deepened the kiss. His tongue teased and rewarded. She luxuriated in the feel of it, in the dizzying sense of surrender she’d long denied herself.
His hands were everywhere. On her wet hair. Her neck and shoulders. Her back and buttocks. His hot, thick manhood pressed against her belly, and her stomach quivered.
He kissed her cheek, then ran his tongue from the hollow of her throat up to her jawline, and all the way to her left ear. He nibbled her earlobe, then darted his tongue into her ear.
She shivered. “Is that anything like how your manhood will feel inside me?”
His breath warmed her ear. “’Twill be infinitely better. I promise.” He groaned. “I’ve waited forever for this moment. My dear…” He kissed the side of her neck. “Sweet…” He kissed her shoulder. “Constance.” His mouth closed around her left breast.
With great care, he tongued, bit, and sucked first the left nipple and then the right. She ran her hands through his sleek hair and swayed as pleasure rippled through her.
He bent lower and lower, blazing a trail of kisses down her belly. Then he knelt before her. Dipping his tongue into her navel, he flicked it in and out, back and forth.
She giggled. “I cannot imagine a more ticklish spot.”
His eyes smoldered as he looked up at her. “Wait a while.” He squeezed her hips and turned her around.
“Robert?”
He kissed the small of her back, then the curve of each buttock. With a feather-light touch, he ran his fingers down the backs of her legs, all the way to her ankles.
Again, she giggled. “I’ll admit, that does tickle, but—”
He grabbed her hips and turned her back around. Then he nuzzled the apex of her thighs.
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