by Shea,Lisa
“Go!” cried out Constance, and the contest was on. She was impressed at how evenly matched the pair was. The center now wavered to the left, then to the right, but neither boy had a clear advantage. The spectators screamed with delight, egging them on, and both boys dug in their heels hard, pulling with all their might.
Then, suddenly, Alain’s foot slipped as he moved closer to the pond. Alond took instant advantage of the traction loss, tugging hard on his rope. Alain flailed, lost his balance, and went back into the mud with a laugh. Everyone cheered and clapped as he ruefully picked himself up out of the mire.
Gabriel and Charles rounded the corner, their faces lighting up with interest at the sight. Charles squatted down, putting his arms out to his brood, giving an extra pat to Alain’s muddy back.
“You will get him next time,” he promised the twin with a chuckle.
Gabriel was examining the handiwork of the rope. “This is good,” he commented off-handedly, “but we really should get you a solid length of rope. It would be safer without those joins.”
Constance snorted, brushing hair from her face with one grimy hand. “Safer, my foot,” she contested. “Those joins will not part before the rope itself does. Plus, this makes good use of unused end pieces. Waste not, want not.”
Gabriel looked down doubtfully at the knots. “If you say so …”
Constance felt a feisty spirit run through her. She gave a tug on her gloves, seating them well against her fingers.
“Put on some gloves,” she called out in challenge.
Gabriel’s head came up at that. He glanced at Charles, then back at Constance again. “I do not think -”
Charles interrupted with a smile. “Oh, go ahead,” he encouraged, his eyes twinkling. “It could be fun.”
Constance’s grin widened. “Let us see how well these knots hold,” she added with a chuckle. “Unless you are afraid to get muddy …” she glanced suggestively at Alain’s soaked clothing.
Gabriel pursed his lips, then reached down for a pair of gloves, sliding them on with practiced ease. “I will go easy on you,” he commented as he moved to his end of the rope. He lifted it, examining the knots and loops. He gave an experimental tug at the end loop, his brows coming together. “Very nice,” he murmured under his breath.
Constance glanced again at her brother, stifling a grin, then worked her way up to the third loop from the end of her side.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “You do know that brings you closer to the center line?” He shook his head in amusement. “You want this to be a quick test, I see.”
Constance settled herself down low, bringing one hand into a loop before her, the other rested behind her back, keeping the line well seated along her waist. She gave each heel a twist, securely grounding herself. She took a long, careful look at where Gabriel stood, at the slick slope of the pond only a few feet away.
Charles watched her with a practiced eye, waiting for her nod. When he saw it, he gave one last look at Gabriel, then brought both hands up.
“Go!”
Constance leant back hard, ready for Gabriel’s strength. She formed a wedge with her body; his pulling drove her more deeply into the soft earth. She only had to keep the angle correct to keep from skidding across the top of the surface. He was stronger, so much stronger, but so had Charles been all those years ago. It was not just about strength. It was about strategy, and traction, and …
She heaved her body left, and Gabriel moved to counter, his feet steady on the ground, but inching closer to the slope. Constance knew this pond by heart, knew every dip, every curve. It was time for …
She gave a soft cry, as if her hands were slipping, and she let the rope slide through her grasp to the next knot set. She grabbed securely at the next knot, jolting the rope. Gabriel stumbled back slightly, then caught himself. Again she leaned, again he followed with her, his eyes becoming more focused on the task.
She could see it in his face, that he was about to take the contest more seriously. If he dug himself in, she would have no chance. It was all about timing … she watched his eyes, judging, waiting. The moment had to be just perfect …
There, she saw the change, saw the moment he took in a deep breath. She let the final two knots fly through her fingers, catching solidly on the final loop, leaning herself with all her might to the left, digging in to the ground as if she were a tree putting down roots. Gabriel was just bearing down with a burst of strength to pull her in – and he flailed in surprise as the rope became loose in his hands, as the snap of its leftward angle pulled him toward the pond.
His foot slid, lost traction, and he tumbled sideways into the deep muddy puddle.
Constance threw both of her hands into the air in victory, crying out in delight. The children came running around her in glee, and she was swept up by her brother in a fond hug. She was still laughing when he put her down, as a soaked Gabriel climbed to his feet, shaking off his clothes.
She chuckled with mischief. “It seems the knots held after all.”
Gabriel’s eyes were bright with amusement. “You have done this before,” he challenged.
“With an older brother? Of course I had,” she retorted easily. “I certainly had to pick up some tricks along the way, too.”
A pair of shrieks sounded from behind them, and they turned to find the two sisters standing, staring at the sight. Gaynor ran forward, her face pink with surprise.
“What have those children done to you now?” she called out half in horror. “We need to get you inside right away and get you out of those clothes!” Together she and Alison pulled at Gabriel, drawing him back into the keep.
Constance looked up at Charles for a long moment, and then they burst out in gales of fresh laughter, doubling over in mirth. Constance felt the merriness lift her, carry her through the afternoon, through the babble of dinner.
She almost wished she could stay for the dancing and music that began once dinner was finished, but she knew her other plans were far more important. It seemed second nature for her and Ralph to slip away, to change clothes and work their way outside the walls with their horses. In only a short while they had met up with their eager student group.
Constance lost herself completely in her training work, enormously impressed with how quickly the women picked up the skills, warmed with how dedicated they were to learning self-defense. The hours flew by in a contented blur.
But when the women had gone, and she was climbing on her horse to head home, it was the sight of Gabriel’s smile that hung in her mind, the warmth in his voice that flowed through her blood and made her feel whole.
Chapter 11
Gaynor was, if anything, even more animated than usual when Constance made her way down to the sun-streaked main room the following morning.
“Oh, Connie, there you are!” she called out, tripping across the room with glee. “We are going to have a picnic!”
“Are you sure it is safe?” asked Constance with concern, her eyes glancing back to the main table where Alison sat nibbling complacently on an apple tart. The men were nowhere in sight, and Constance wondered absently if they were out talking with the village leaders about the bandit problem.
Gaynor wrinkled her forehead. “Of course it is, silly,” she protested. “We have strong menfolk with us! We will be fine.” She escorted Constance over to the table, talking non-stop about her plans.
As Constance ate, Gaynor envisioned every detail of the picnic from beginning to end. She enthusiastically began describing the foods they would bring, and the dances the musicians would play for them. Constance sat back and let Gaynor thrill in her dreams. Her own mind was distant, working out the next set of lesson plans for her evening group.
* * *
When lunch was done, Alison and Gaynor settled into the sun room for an animated discussion of exactly how the decorating and catering of the picnic would be accomplished. Constance left them to their work, walking slowly through her childhood home, heading out a
s she had so often in her youth to the freedom of the outdoors.
When she pushed her way through the thick outer door, she was immediately hit by a wall of heat and humidity. The heavy air seemed to dance in waves, and she pushed her damp hair back from her face before moving on.
She ambled through the fragrant herb garden, breathing in the rich aromas of tarragon and oregano. It was intoxicating, and she sat by a bushy sage plant, ripping one of the leaves from its base, pulling it into quarters to inhale its aroma. She closed her eyes, drawing in its rich scent. She had forgotten how wonderful the gardens were here.
She stood again slowly, glancing around at the quiet. The four youngsters were nowhere in sight – was it perhaps their nap time already? She began moving again, through the rose garden, among the lush, crimson blossoms. The fragrances were even more sensual here, and she found her footsteps slowed as she went.
Constance ran a hand idly along the back of her neck as she walked, wiping away the sweat there. She felt awakened by the sun, felt it soaking into her skin.
God, it was hot, though. She meandered over to the duck pond, drawn by its glistening blue. Holding up her skirts, she crouched at its side. Looking around to ensure the area was deserted, she cupped her hands and brought a shimmering fountain up over her head, the cool liquid raining down on her, bringing her instant relief. She ran her wet hands down her hair, drawing it away from her face.
She let out a deep sigh as the water soaked into her skin, washed over her. She felt a rivulet go down the center of her chest, where her medallion had been, and she pressed a hand against the spot, relishing the sensation. The sun warmed her face, the water brought an immediate and delicious coolness.
There was a noise from the right and she turned, staying low, looking through the dense hedges. Ralph was there, sword out, moving into a guard position. He took a step back, and Constance saw Gabriel was his sparring opponent. Gabriel was shining in the heat, and his light tunic was open halfway down the front, revealing the laced shirt beneath. He spun his blade through a rotation to loosen up his wrist, then moved in against Ralph with a laugh. The men danced up and down the meadow, crying out friendly challenges and encouragement to each other, raining down blows, raising blocks, turning and advancing and retreating.
Constance could not move. The sultry summer heat soaked into her bones; the cool water slowly trickled beneath her chemise. Gabriel’s swordwork was a masterpiece of strength, of control, of careful strategy. He was not drawn in by Ralph’s feint; he seemed to know instinctively to lean left rather than right to dodge the next strike. Constance had learned that trick after several years of daily practice with Ralph – how had Gabriel picked up on that so quickly?
She was transfixed by the way Gabriel moved, with a cat’s grace, dodging low as a blow whistled past his ear. The muscles rippled in his arm as he swung his sword, driving Ralph back a step. She caught her breath, admiring the way his side did not give an inch when a full blow came down on his high guard. He was the consummate protector, the perfect guardian.
A shaft of desire pierced her through, filled her with a longing she thought long past. Here was a man she would be proud to have in her life, at her side.
If only -
She shook her head fiercely. She was in the public’s eye a married woman; she could not be entertaining such thoughts. Even in dreams, such longings would do her no good. Still, watching him in motion, watching the way his sharp eyes read every move Ralph made, anticipating every nuance …
She was burning up; every part of her tingled with fiery heat. There had been a time when he would have gladly enfolded her into his arms. A time when she could have looked into his eyes and seen the smoldering desire there, always kept under a tight rein. She had felt those same cravings, had struggled to keep them tucked safely within her breast.
Now those long lost feelings billowed with fresh life, threatening to overwhelm her carefully built reserves of strength.
She threw herself back from the hedge, forced herself to rip her eyes from the man she loved. Turning, she saw the expanse of the clear blue pond before her. Without a second thought she stood, ran and dove in. The water was deliciously cool, washing over her at once, enveloping her. The passionate longings shimmered out of her, melted into the simple joy of streaming beneath the surface, lost to the world. She was safe, she was free.
She rolled easily, her tunic billowing in the pond’s depths, drifting with her movement.
She swam underwater a few more strokes before surfacing far from shore, treading water with ease as she drew in a deep breath. She had loved to swim as a teenager, and had forgotten how delightful it was to be immersed. This pond in particular held so many happy memories for her …
There was the sound of heavy footsteps, and the two men came crashing through the hedge barrier, looking around in alarm. Their faces relaxed slightly when they spotted Constance holding her head above water in the pond.
Ralph called out in relieved exasperation. “What are you doing, lass? We thought you were one of the wee ones. Get yourself in to shore.”
Constance stretched an arm to begin a gentle swim, and found to her surprise that her tunic had become incredibly heavy with the absorbed weight. She bit her lip to hide the effort from the men – it would do no good to turn this into a dramatic rescue attempt. Not in her own childhood pond! In a few moments she reached a depth where she could stand, then slowly waded her way through the mucky shallows, her clothing becoming heavier and heavier as she emerged from the water.
She stumbled as she came up on shore, her tunic feeling as if it was lined with lead weights. Gabriel’s arm was there for her in an instant, and he felt rock solid beneath her. She thought again of the way he moved, of the power of his body, and the flush hit her again, the longing to be held by him, to be wrapped in his arms …
With an effort she pushed free of him, willed herself not to look up at him, not to allow him to see the turmoil she had fallen into. She stood wringing the water from her tunic with both hands, concentrating on the task with deliberate focus.
“I am fine now, thank you,” she hoarsely managed when she was done. She lifted her still waterlogged hems with both hands, making her way steadily back to the keep.
She heard the men murmuring behind her, but she did not slow. If anything, she moved as quickly as she could, reaching her room and closing the door firmly behind her. Despite her drenched clothing, she could not bring herself to remove it; the fabric clung to her body as if she were in a damp embrace. She moved to the chair by the window, curling herself up in the corner, drawing her knees in to her chest. She sat there for several hours, willing the longing from her body, willing herself to focus on her training task for the night, on the path she had chosen for her life.
That evening, she threw herself into her training activities with a fervor the women had not seen before. Constance exhausted herself completely with blocks, with parries, with thrusts, driving the tortured demons out of her heart one lunge at a time.
Chapter 12
As she lay in bed the following morning, Constance closed her eyes, taking in long, deep breaths, striving to find her center. She was grateful that the day’s plan was for a picnic. It would do her good to get away from her childhood home, the familiar hallways and all the memories they brought up in her soul. A change of scenery would help her drive away old, long dormant feelings. Those longings would only bring her pain.
Resolved, she moved over to dress. She hesitated between the burgundy tunics which Barnard had brought and the yellows of her childhood from the dresser. She finally dug in the drawers for a more neutral, fawn colored tunic. Once she was ready, she headed down the stairs with a light step.
The group was all gathered, and the children were milling about in loud excitement at the adventure of it all. Constance helped to herd them into a large wagon waiting by the front door of the keep, then pulled Alison up after her. Joy climbed in with a handful of dolls, settling hers
elf down besides Lucia.
Gaynor and Gabriel rode up on a pair of matching black horses, Gaynor laughing with delight. “What a glorious day for an outing!” the red-head called out to her sister. She glanced over at Constance. “I know my sister does not like horses, but surely you will travel astride with us! Gabriel tells me you used to adore riding.”
Constance slid her eyes to meet Gabriel’s. He had been talking to Gaynor about her? What else had he said? His eyes were shielded; she found it odd. Usually she could tell at a glance if he was angry … content …
A curt voice cut into the group. “My wife does not ride,” insisted Barnard, drawing up to the throng on a steady, grey mare. “It would not be safe for her feminine disposition.”
Gaynor spun her horse away, and Constance caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes as she moved. Then the red-head and Gabriel were alight, charging ahead of the wagon, drawing out of sight. Constance sighed as her more staid conveyance jerked into motion to follow when Ralph gave a shake at the reins. Constance sat back, drawing Ava onto her lap.
The young voice rose in a piping lilt. “Will we see duckies?”
“Maybe we shall,” replied Constance with a smile, willing herself not to look forward to where Gabriel and Gaynor cantered in the fresh sunshine. “We shall find out soon enough!”
She entertained the children with stories of ducks and fish for the short ride, and in no time the group had arrived at its destination besides the wide river. Blankets were laid out high on the hill, and soon the group was sprawled out in the warm afternoon sun. There was mead to drink, fresh bread and cheese to eat, and a babble of delighted conversation. A pair of musicians played a quiet tune on recorders.
Charles leant forward, eyeing his wife. “My dear, delight us with a song,” he suggested.
Alison took him up on his offer immediately, launching into a lovely version of a local dance tune. Constance found herself clapping in time, and the four children got up on their feet, swirling and moving to the music in wild abandon.