A Sense of Duty - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 4)

by Shea,Lisa

  Gabriel drew in a long breath, and it almost seemed as if his voice had a tremble to it.

  “Flowers are not the same as memories …”

  Barnard chuckled. “Let us talk about memories, then, shall we?” He put a finger under Constance’s chin, and Constance obediently turned her face to look at him. He gazed into her eyes with fixed attention.

  “My dearest, I think it is time we had a talk. I know you came to me pure of body – but there was in fact a man in your life before me. I can tell by the way he reacts when I do things such as this …”

  Barnard put a hand behind Constance’s neck, pulling her face in to press his thin lips hard against hers for a long moment. He smiled widely at the rigid tension which immediately shot through Gabriel’s body. Chuckling, he sat back slightly, staring at Constance with wide eyes.

  “Tell me the truth, now,” he pressed her gently. “There should be no secrets between us.”

  Constance looked over at Gabriel, the man who had watched over her, who had protected her for so long. The sound came out of her as a half whisper. “Yes,” she admitted softly. “Gabriel was very special to me.”

  “I am sure you miss his kisses,” prodded Barnard, running a finger idly down her neck.

  Constance looked over to Gabriel, and suddenly desire billowed within her, the force of it taking her off guard, the longing of years threatening to overwhelm her. Her throat nearly closed with emotion.

  “We never kissed,” she vowed hoarsely, lost in his gaze. She could remember vividly the warmth of the stables, his closeness as she slid down from her steed. She would turn, pressed between the warm steed and his toned body, and she would see the passion in his eyes … it had taken every ounce of her self-control, every day, to step away from what she craved most in the world.

  Barnard gave a choking cough, and took in a long drink of mead. His eyes flew to meet Gabriel’s. “You cannot be serious. You never even kissed her?”

  Gabriel’s eyes shone strongly with conviction. “I take my vows seriously.”

  Barnard smiled even more widely at this. “Oh, this is grand!” he laughed. “All those years of unrequited passion, of wanting each other but not being able to do anything about it, all because of a vow she took when she was ten years old?”

  He leant forward and kissed Constance again, drawing it out, savoring it. “She has very sweet lips,” he chuckled finally to Gabriel as he sat back.

  “What are you playing at?” ground out Gabriel, his eyes flashing fury.

  “Oh, this is not a game,” promised Barnard with a smile. He turned to the woman at his side. “So you do love him?” he prompted.

  Do I love him?

  The emotions in Constance’s heart were threatening to overrun all her carefully constructed defenses. For so many years she had resisted this topic, had known the immense danger which lay within. Constance could almost feel the heat of Gabriel’s presence, breathe in the soul-searing beauty of his being. He was so close, so close to her and yet impenetrable walls separated them. Her voice eased out in the faintest of whispers.

  “We have never spoken of it.”

  Barnard laughed out loud at that. “This gets better and better!” he chortled. “You have never even pledged your love to each other? I had no idea my vow was so powerful!”

  He leant forward, taking both of Constance’s hands in his own.

  “My dear, look at me,” he ordered gently.

  Constance reluctantly brought her eyes up to meet Barnard’s, wondering what punishment awaited her for her confession. An abyss opened before her, dark and foreboding.

  His face became serious. “My dearest, I feel this torment has gone on long enough,” he murmured. “You have strong feelings for Gabriel, and apparently he does for you as well. You have had these longings in your heart and body for far too long. It is my duty as a husband to help make you happy.”

  Barnard nodded at someone behind her, jerking his head to the right. He then looked back to Constance.

  “Close your eyes, and stand up,” he instructed Constance. She obediently complied, her heart pounding in her chest. Barnard stood with her.

  A pair of hands took hers within them. They were stronger than Barnard’s; sturdier. Her heart hammered nearly out of her chest . What was going on?

  Barnard’s voice was solemn. “Constance, I hereby release you from your vows of chastity. I am giving you permission to be with, to love, another man. That man is Gabriel. It is only right, seeing how you two feel about each other. I give you both my blessing.”

  He paused for a long moment. “Open your eyes, and look on your love.”

  Constance’s world shimmered into a new realm of unreality. If it had been a dream before, now it was some higher level of fantasy. Slowly, ever so slowly, Constance opened her eyes to look at the man before her. She felt as if she were seeing him through heat waves. His face shimmered and resolidified, his hair seeming curly at times, sometimes short and straight. The lines of his face wavered.

  She hesitantly spoke. “Gabriel?”

  There was a shouted “no!” from behind her, cut off abruptly, but in front of her Gabriel smiled, nodded, held both of her hands in his own, bringing his lips tenderly down to them for a kiss. Then he brought her hands in to his chest, pressing them against the center of his breast.

  She could feel the shape there, feel the circle beneath his tunic. With shaking hands she sought out the leather necklace, pulled the medallion from beneath the fabric. She sighed in relief, in pleasure, running her fingers over the familiar design. His face and features shimmered again, solidifying into the ones she knew from her dreams.

  “Oh, Gabriel,” she breathed, caught up in the medallion. “Look, the dragon faces to the right.”

  “Because you are always right by my side, my love,” responded Gabriel tenderly.

  He leant forward to kiss her, but despite her husband’s statements she turned her head to the side, taking the kiss chastely on her cheek. It was still too much to draw in, too much to absorb.

  Gabriel chuckled at her shyness. “Maybe we should go somewhere that we can be alone, to … talk,” he suggested with a smile. “Come with me, my dearest.”

  Slowly he began to lead her back toward the stairs, and she followed at his side, her heart thumping in nervous excitement. Could it be true? Could Barnard really be allowing her to share herself with Gabriel, as she had always dreamed?

  Behind her, she heard muffled shouts, but she paid them no mind. Gabriel was guiding her up the stairs, back toward the lovely room with the burnt orange comforter. She twined her fingers into his, feeling the answering warmth of his grip. She had waited so many years, suffered so many indignities, to reach this day.

  She led him into her room almost shyly. They had been alone together countless times in the past, and he had seen her in various stages of undress while he tended to wounds and scrapes. Still, there had always been a strict line of conduct between them – nothing more intimate than a tender kiss on the forehead or hand. That was about to change.

  She shivered in anticipation as he closed the door behind him. She took in a deep, full breath, inhaling the pungent smoke from the brazier. It was so soothing, almost intoxicating. The sensation thrilled through her, seeped out of her pores, spiraled out from her fingers and toes.

  “Is that not the most delicious scent ever?” she asked in abandon, raising her hands to rest them alongside Gabriel’s face.

  “Yes, my darling,” he responded, his voice thick with passion. “That is why the other guards remain downstairs, to stay clear-headed. It is just you and I alone in here.” He removed the dagger from his belt, placing it carefully alongside the brazier on the dresser.

  “Alone,” she breathed, her head swimming. “We are finally alone.”

  She trembled as he knelt down before her, grasped her outer dress layer, and slowly, carefully lifted it over her head. She dutifully put her hands up over her head to help him, and in a moment it was
off, laid gently in a corner of the room. She turned and faced him in her thin white chemise, drawing pleasure in the way he looked up and down her body.

  Wanting to return the favor, she moved up against him, taking the hem of his tunic, pulling the heavy material up and over his head, tossing that into the corner on top of her dress. He stood before her, strong, steady, the medallion hanging around his neck over his thin shirt.

  She put her hand instinctively to her own chest, to where her medallion had hung. That they had worn matching medallions for all those years … tears sprang to her eyes. She took a step forward to press against him, to trace a finger along the guardian dragon, gazing to the right …

  The tiniest seed of hesitation lodged in her brain, like a grain of sand in a delicate silk stocking. It poked there, pushed at her as an irritation. “You stand to my right,” she murmured, “So your sword arm is free. So you can protect me.”

  “I will protect you always,” vowed Gabriel, his voice heavy with desire. “I will be at your left, your right, on top of you. I will be everywhere.” He pushed her gently back toward the bed.

  Constance took in another deep breath, and the room shimmered and sparkled. The dragon seemed almost to curl and coil, to turn and look at her. Its eyes held a look of caution, of warning.

  A tremor of uncertainty echoed deep in her soul. She had dreamt of being with Gabriel for years. She pulsed with desire in every part of her body. It was an ache in her heart, a throbbing in her loins. Even so, she knew this was wrong.

  She put her hand tenderly against his chest, against the medallion. “I cannot do this.”

  Gabriel pushed her back to sit on the bed, his body inexorably moving against her. “Barnard has given his approval. It is all right,” he soothed her, his eyes bright with passion.

  Panic rose in Constance as Gabriel continued to push her down onto the bed, to press his body full length against hers. Confusion mingled in her voice. “I have waited for you for over ten years,” she insisted. “I will not taint our love by being with you in this manner, not when the world believes I am married -”

  “Our love is all that matters,” insisted Gabriel hotly, pressing his lips down against her neck, her chest, and then lower. “You and I are all that matters. Vows are meant to be broken. Honor is meaningless. We are here right now, and that is all that counts.”

  Constance’s world shifted and shattered; she watched the sparkling diamonds fall around her and crash onto the ground, burst into a million shards. Gabriel shimmered, his hair became curly, then straight, his eyes became the brilliant yellow of a wolf, then the thin black slits of a snake.

  She breathed in deeply in shock; the smoke raced through her veins, exploded out through her fingers and toes, and now it was a demon who loomed over her, with red hot eyes and fiery, smoke-laced wings, the heat of his breath blasting her, melting her.

  “You are mine!” he extolled, his arrogance echoing around the room in waves. “How I have dreamed about this day!” He reached a hand down to grasp at her chemise, preparing to rip it down the center.

  His touch was the searing edge of a hot poker, and Constance let loose with a banshee’s scream of anguish. The demon started back for a moment, then drove down hard against her, wrestling with her chemise in earnest. Constance kicked out her knee hard against him, heard him bellow in pain, saw one clawed fist swoop down out of the sky and smash her on the side of the head. Pain exploded through her skull, and hot blood coursed down her face. She howled in agony, then instinctively rolled and flung herself to the other side of the bed. A strong arm grabbed her leg, dragged her backwards hard, flinging her down face-first onto the mattress. A heavy body landed on top of hers, pinning her down with its weight.

  “Help! Help!” she bellowed at the top of her lungs, thrashing beneath the demon’s bulk.

  “God’s teeth, you harpy!” cursed the fiery demon, and another blow rained down on her head, temporarily stunning her. She shook her head to clear it. The hands were at her knees, roughly pushing her chemise up to her waist. She thrashed again, bucking with every ounce of strength …

  The door to the room was flung open, slamming into the wall and rebounding again with a tremendous clap of thunder. An imposing figure in shining white stood there, a flaming sword in his hand, fury and vengeance glowing on his face. Constance could see a pair of full white wings unfurl behind him.

  “The angel Gabriel,” she whispered in awe, spellbound by his presence.

  The demon let loose with a roar of fury, then rolled to grab his dagger from its resting place. With a howl he launched himself at the angel. Constance knew she should do something – run for help, take cover – but she could not move. She was transfixed, curled up on the bed, watching the two entities slash at each other, circle each other, thrust and parry, dodge and leap. There was a scarlet ribbon on the demon’s arm, and then a matching one across the angel’s chest. She was mesmerized by the ballet, the sliding feet and clanging metal creating a music, a song, and she found herself wondering how it would end.

  Then, suddenly, Ralph burst into the room, and in a whirl of motion the demon spun into smoke, blew out the door and vanished. Constance looked up to Ralph with a confused smile, curious what new oddities might occur.

  Ralph took one look at her, one look at the smoking brazier by the bed, and let out a low oath. He grabbed up the comforter from the bed, used it to swaddle the hot burner and then lobbed the entire bundle out through the closed shutters. Shards of wood flew everywhere, and Constance watched them fall in slow motion. A deliciously cool breeze tickled her face and arms, and took a long, deep breath of the liquid air.

  Ralph’s voice was panicked concern. “Gabe, we have to get her out of here.”

  Constance looked up in alarm. Gabriel had gotten back into the room? Her eyes spun around the area – and she froze in fright. Gabriel was somehow standing in the center of the room! His sword was covered in blood, and there were several gashes on his arm and midsection.

  Gabriel took a step toward her, and she shrunk back in fright, her eyes wide. She would never let him touch her again!

  Gabriel froze at her reaction, his face blanching.

  “Constance …”

  Ralph pushed past him impatiently, and Constance eagerly wrapped her arms around him in relief, the one sane person in her world. She clung to him as if to a life raft. Ralph easily slid one arm beneath her, the other behind her back, and pulled her up to him. Once he had her, he turned and quickly carried her from the room. It seemed they took the long staircase down to the main hall two steps at a time.

  At the bottom of the stairs Constance gasped in shock. The table was overturned, the chairs broken and scattered. The two guards who had sat alongside Frank and Gabriel lay dead, their bloodied daggers still gripped tightly in their hands. Constance looked wildly around as Ralph hurried through the large room, but she could not see her husband or Frank anywhere.

  “What happened?” she cried out in confusion, leaning in against Ralph in fright.

  Ralph pulled her more closely to him, settling her securely in his arms, racing toward the front entrance.

  Jacob stepped into the large archway, sword and dagger out at the ready. He grinned with pleasure. “Hand over the lady,” he instructed. “She is worth a pretty penny to me, and you seem to have your hands full right now.”

  Constance smiled with delight. “Jacob!” she called out, happy to find another friendly face in this chaos.

  Ralph instantly took a long step to his left, and Jacob’s cock-sure smile vanished as he realized Gabriel was right behind. Jacob swung fiercely with his sword, diving in to slash with his dagger, but Gabriel was in no mood to brook delays. He drove in hard, forced Jacob to the wall behind him, slamming his fist repeatedly against Jacob’s sword hand until the man released the weapon, screaming in pain. Gabriel pinned Jacob’s left hand down with his knee, then rolled with his sword, driving it hard into Jacob’s chest. He held it there for a long moment
before pulling it free, springing to his feet and looking around for fresh threats. His face was a mask of absolute focus.

  Constance was shocked beyond belief. “You killed Jacob!” Had Gabriel gone mad? What happened to the man she had loved?

  Gabriel gave a quick nod to Ralph, and in an instant they were back in motion, skimming down the front steps, running across the main courtyard in a blur. To her surprise, Constance saw that a pair of Angelus mercenaries waited at the far end with a group of steeds.

  Ralph eased Constance to the ground by one of the horses, and all of her previous concerns vanished in a flash. They were going for a ride! She dutifully climbed onto the mount, eager to get started. She turned, then pouted as Ralph vaulted up behind her, grabbing the reins out of her hands.

  “I can ride quite fine!” she argued petulantly, wiping the blood from her eyes. Her eyes skimmed the group. “Hey, I want to ride that gorgeous unicorn over there, instead!” She pointed to a shimmering beauty with skin the color of rich cerulean which stood to one side. Suddenly Gabriel moved to the unicorn and climbed on. Seeing her attacker so near, Constance cringed back against Ralph.

  Ralph did not wait another moment. He kicked his steed into action, and the group thundered away from the building, heading out into the forest. Constance thrilled in the ride, and leant low over the horse’s neck. A pair of ebony angels flanked them on either side, and she could see the wings on the Pegasus they rode folded in alongside the beasts’ flanks.

  She glanced back behind her and shivered. “Gabriel is gaining on us!” she called out in alarm to Ralph.

  “You hold on,” he responded in a low, tight voice. “Everything is going to be all right. Just hold on.”

  Constance wrapped her hands more tightly into the horse’s mane, letting herself enjoy the exhilaration of the race.

  It seemed hours, or days, or maybe seconds, but suddenly the nunnery was ahead of them, its long grey walls and high main gate an imposing barrier in the dark night. Constance winced as they thundered toward the wooden doors, her head suddenly beginning to throb. Ralph uttered a low curse as he saw the closed doors, reluctantly pulling hard on the reins to draw the horse in to a clattering stop. He called up to the guards.