by Shari Anton
Why must Rhodri’s words give both joy and pain? Why did he tempt her so?
“Tell me, what would a prince think of his pencerdd spending his days playing his harp in graveyards? You would not keep your position long, I warrant.”
“Decidedly not, which is part of the reason we are not bound for Arwystli.”
That surprised her. “Then where?”
“Camelen.”
“Why ever for?”
He put her circlet and dagger on the floor, then turned to fully face her. “I once believed that becoming a pencerdd in a great house was what I most desired. Then we accomplished the incredible at Glenvair. I now believe I have found a grander purpose for my music. Nicole, if you marry a Welsh noble, you may never be permitted to return home to put William to rest and he may plague you for the rest of your days. Both you and your brother deserve to have the matter settled.”
William. Sweet mercy, she’d yearned for so long to help her brother seek his peace.
“I have tried so many times to convince William to go to his peace, but he refuses to listen.”
“You have never tried to speak to him at the place of his burial, and not when I am playing the harp. Yester noon, you said you heard magic in my music. Certes, is it not time to test how strong the magic might be?”
Nicole tamped down her growing excitement over the prospect. “If I leave with you, we will have the prince’s patrols searching for us in Wales and may yet encounter the earl of Oxford’s patrols in England.”
“Camelen is a mere three days’ hard ride. No one will be certain of where we are. I am confident we can reach Camelen without incident.”
Could Rhodri be right? Could the two of them, at long last, deal successfully with William?
Magic. She’d been gifted—or cursed—with the ability to hear the troubled dead. Her sister Emma possessed the power to see visions in pools of water. Gwen was the guardian of a potent ancient spell.
Emma required no partner to make use of her ability. Gwendolyn did, and Alberic took his responsibility most seriously. Nicole had never thought she, too, might require a partner to make full use of her gift, but perhaps she did.
Before her sat the one man who she knew not only believed in her gift but was willing to partner her if she would allow. That was why he’d asked her to marry him, so they could uninhibitedly explore the breadth and depth of the magic.
Nicole rose to her knees and wrapped her arms around Rhodri’s neck, wishing he loved her as much as she loved him, but finding a morsel of contentment in what they could share together. As his arms came around her in a comforting and stimulating embrace, she felt more sure of her decision.
“You are certain you will not regret missing the contest?”
“Not for a moment. Will you regret not becoming the most favored princess in all of Wales?”
“Never.”
Then Rhodri kissed her, and Nicole wondered how the devil they could have spent so much time talking while in the same bed.
Her thoughts floated away from William, and from all of the problems they could face both at Camelen and in the future. She dismissed her earlier concerns over his inappropriate presence in her bedchamber, and didn’t even wonder over how she had become so blatantly brazen in so short a time.
All she could do was revel in the glorious sensation of Rhodri’s mouth on hers once more. Oh, how she’d yearned for his kiss, and more, all through the night.
A night now nearly over.
“How soon must we leave?” she asked in breathless earnestness.
“We have time,” he answered, falling back to lie on the bed, taking her with him. “Does my princess wish to explore the differences in making love in a soft bed in a warm bedchamber, rather than on the hard ground in a fern-covered shelter?”
She almost called him to task for calling her a princess, but this time he’d used the title as an endearment, without scorn. And truly, she didn’t mind at all being his princess.
“Most certes she does!”
The chemise she’d donned was quickly dispensed with, as were Rhodri’s garments. Within moments they cuddled under the coverlet, face to face, skin to skin, without any impediment of space in which to enjoy each other.
“An improvement already,” she commented. “I do not suppose we can take a pallet with us.”
Rhodri chuckled. “Nay, no pallet, but this time we have coin to pay for more comfortable accommodations on our adventure, even if that means a bed of hay in a farmer’s barn.”
Nicole didn’t care where they slept as long as Rhodri slept beside her and, as now, his long fingers skimmed along her curves as skillfully as he strummed his harp.
As he had in a fondly remembered fern-covered shelter, he petted her breasts until they swelled to aching. Her nipples puckered, the nubs going hard and begging for his touch. Understanding her need, Rhodri suckled gently, firmly, tending to her in most satisfactory fashion.
She understood his need, too. The long length of his hard cock pressed against her thigh, eagerly awaiting the coupling to come.
“What can we do in a bed that we could not in the shelter?”
“I can pleasure you properly.”
“What we did in the shelter was not proper?”
The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a wry smile. “What we did in the shelter was not at all proper. Granted, we managed a successful encounter, but our positions were all wrong.”
“So we will couple differently this time?”
“Differently, but with the same rewarding ending.”
Before she could ask what matter the positions if the ending were the same, Rhodri halted her question with another kiss. She drank deeply, her thirst for him unquenchable.
She didn’t stop him when once more he insisted upon petting her breasts, her nipples again hardening under the brush of his thumb. Nor did she raise an objection when his hand slipped between her thighs, his fingers sliding into her hot, wet folds, seeking the small nub that responded wildly to his ministrations.
Tongues mated. Hands roamed. Her heart soared with joy, and her body quivered with anticipation.
Nicole took care to intimately appreciate Rhodri’s finely sculpted body, from the curve of his rugged jaw, down over the rippled muscles of his chest, and down farther yet to the glorious male member jutting proudly upward from a thick thatch of dark hair.
She took him in hand and was rewarded with a low moan akin to agony.
Sweet mercy, he was hard, his cock a marvel of tempered steel encased in silken skin. Her fascination led to exploration and, to her delight, heightened her own desire.
“If I recall rightly, in the shelter you hinted of further lessons.”
“I did.” He pulled her up to lie atop him, and she would gladly slide downward to take him inside her did he not roll her onto her back to cover her. “Lie still, and I will show you one of the joys at which I hinted.”
He kissed her lips, then jaw, then the sensitive hollow of her throat. Ever downward he slid, pausing briefly to honor each breast before sliding again to sprinkle kisses over her stomach.
She thought he would halt there and retrace his path back to her mouth. She was wrong. He knelt between her wide-spread legs, placed his hands on her inner thighs, and lowered his head to kiss her there.
Lie still? Impossible!
Nicole arched into the intimate, intense flick of his tongue. She clenched the sheets, frantic to ease the torment, unwilling to cut it short. Exquisite heat flooded her. Her nether regions begged release.
Her fingers burrowed into his hair, intending to pull him upward, but she perversely held him in place, the sensations too divine to tell him to cease.
But if he didn’t halt soon, she would reach her ecstasy without him inside her, and that wasn’t her preference.
“Rhodri!”
He didn’t misunderstand her command. Within a trice he again covered her, and then, to her utter delight and relief, he filled her. One ste
ady, powerful stroke followed another, flinging her steadily further into an adventure she wished to embark on only with Rhodri.
She matched his rhythm, urging him onward. Breath ragged and heart pounding, Nicole followed where Rhodri led.
Ecstasy came in a bright flash of heat, warming her through, convulsing the sheath in which Rhodri thrust. Never had she known such bliss could be reached until he’d shown her how thoroughly a man and woman could come together.
She lifted her hips, inviting him to seek deeper purchase.
On the next thrust he burrowed to profound depths and stayed there. His head thrown back, the cords of his neck stretched taut with strain, the sweat on his upper lip glistening from exertion, Rhodri surrendered.
The pulse of his release harmonized with hers, and Nicole thought it the most wondrous music to be heard in this earthly realm.
He lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. She wrapped her arms around him, now content to lie still until the last strains of the music faded. There was no place she would rather be. Nowhere she wanted to go. Would that they could lock the door’s latch and remain here for hours.
“Ah, Nicole,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck, creating delicious tingles. “You please me beyond reason, woman. Shelter or bed, the result is the same. Your passion is a gift I shall cherish always.”
Not a declaration of love. Disheartening, but not defeating. Whether Rhodri came to love her or not, they shared a grand passion for each other and enhanced each other’s talents. ’Twas more than many other couples could claim.
“If I had but one wish, ’twould be you had come to my bedchamber earlier.”
He rose up on his elbows and grinned, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “I shall keep in mind that my lady is an insatiable minx and strive to ever satisfy her in new ways.”
“Say you there are more lessons to be learned?”
“A few.”
The night candle sputtered. Rhodri glanced over his shoulder at the now unsteady flame. When he turned back, the mischief had fled. He didn’t need to tell her why.
After a last kiss, he abandoned her and the bed. Nicole rolled off the mattress.
They dressed hurriedly in silence. She slipped the dagger into her boot, then looked around for the harp’s sack in which to place her circlet and the pouch of coins.
“Did you not bring your harp with you?”
“Nay, ’tis already down in the horse’s stall.” He draped her cloak over her shoulders and fastened the clasp. “I also pilfered food and a wineskin from the prince’s larder. This time we will be neither cold nor hungry.”
He made this latest escape sound easily accomplished. Nicole had doubts. Ever since they’d left Oxford, every escape had been harrowing.
“Need I distract a guard or two?”
He shook his head. “We will ride through the gate as soon as it opens for the day. Since the two of us arrived together yester eve, the guards will have no reason to question why we leave together this morn. ’Twill be hours before we are fully missed.”
They left the chamber as the night candle gutted out and made their way through the castle’s passageways by the sparse light of torches burning low in their iron sconces. Nicole followed in Rhodri’s wake down the servants’ stairs and out a small door opening into the bailey.
In the hazy light of dawn, Nicole nervously watched for the unwanted approach of the stable master or one of his lads while Rhodri saddled the horse and secured their belongings.
Her wariness wasn’t all due to uncertainty over easy passage through Mathrafal’s gate, or even over the journey to Camelen. The finality of leaving Wales was niggling at her conscience.
Rhodri seemed at peace with leaving behind his life and his ambition. But how soon before he missed his homeland? How soon before he regretted not competing in the contest? How soon before he wished he’d never heard the name of Nicole de Leon?
He led the horse to the mounting block and looked at her expectantly. Damn, she should probably just get on the horse and allow fate its course. But she couldn’t.
Nicole stood before Rhodri, wishing she didn’t feel obligated to give him another chance to question his actions, knowing she must.
“I fear you may come to hate me one day. Can you truly leave behind Wales and your dreams without regret?”
“I have you and my harp. ’Tis all I need, Nicole.”
“For now, perhaps, but someday—”
“Someday you will cease to worry so much.”
He let go the horse’s reins and held out his hands, palms up. Without hesitation, she slipped her hands into his.
“I had hoped,” he said, “to wait until we reached Camelen for this, but if you need reassurance, I am prepared—nay, most willing—to give you my vow now.” He squeezed her hands. “Nicole de Leon, princess of Pendragon, will you accept this humble bard as thy husband? Henceforth, I will honor, support, and cleave only unto thee until death does us part.”
Stunned, she could only stare at his spreading grin.
“Unless,” he added, “I die before you and my spirit decides to remain bound to this earth to await yours. Then I promise not to bother you overmuch.”
Ye gods! Rhodri wanted them to pledge to each other now! In a stable! And why not? Except for one problem.
“We have no witnesses!”
He shrugged a shoulder. “We do not need them, not by either Welsh or English law or custom. If you like, we can repeat our vows at Camelen with your family as witnesses. What say you, Nicole?”
Oh, blessed be! Overwhelmed with love and joy, for a moment she couldn’t push words beyond the lump in her throat. When she finally found her voice, she spoke her vows with no less sincerity and conviction.
“I say I could not find a better man in all of Wales or England to accept as my husband. I pledge thee my troth, Rhodri ap Dafydd. I shall strive to be a good wife to you all our days. This I vow.”
Their kiss sealed the bargain and promised of more delights to come. But they weren’t so lost to the moment they didn’t hear the clank of the heavy chain raising the castle’s iron gate.
Snugly ensconced on Rhodri’s lap, Nicole worried all through the bailey, wishing he’d urge the horse onward a bit faster. And damn if he wasn’t right about the guards taking little notice of their passage.
With a sigh of relief, she leaned back into him and relaxed. He chuckled but wisely said naught of her tendency to worry.
Sweet mercy, she was truly going home!
Nicole remembered the day she’d left Camelen, an angry and frightened girl of ten. Now she would return as a married woman, to a Welsh bard no less. Her family would certainly be surprised, and she dearly hoped they would raise no objections. She sighed inwardly, aware that the most strident objection would come from another quarter altogether—a royal one.
She forcefully pushed the worry aside, refusing to allow that thorn to prick too harshly right now.
More than her family’s acceptance, she wanted them to like Rhodri, too. She suspected Alberic and Darian had taken Rhodri’s measure at the inn and, at the least, gave him their respect and trust, or they would never have allowed her to remain with Rhodri.
Her sisters? Gwendolyn and Emma would likely be happy as long as she was happy. And, truth, all Rhodri must do was play his harp and be his charming self to win them over.
Only one family member wouldn’t care about her happiness, the one Rhodri’s music must calm if she were to help him.
Her brother, William.
Chapter Nineteen
Did someone die here?”
Pulled from her musings, Nicole glanced over the peaceful stream where they’d stopped to water the horse and, she suspected, where Rhodri wished to give her a few moments to rest before they rode the last few leagues into Camelen.
She’d taken advantage by sitting on a log to watch the water flow by while Rhodri tended the horse.
“Not that I am aware of. Why?”
&nb
sp; “Your thoughts were so far away I wondered if you heard a spirit.”
She shook her head. “Nay. I was merely preparing what to say to William.”
If he would listen.
“Perhaps the music will put your brother in a mood to hear you.”
“Oh, he has always heard me. William simply does not wish to heed reason. I fear he will not this time, either.”
If William refused to cease ranting and declined to move on, then she would be forced to leave Camelen. Rhodri couldn’t be expected to play his harp day and night, and William would batter at her, more fiercely than ever before, to kill Alberic.
Rhodri settled the horse near a patch of long grass, then joined her on the log.
“How often does William speak to you?”
“I told you about the first.” At Rhodri’s nod, she continued. “Then once each year, near Easter, when Alberic brought Gwendolyn to the abbey.” She shivered. “Those were always the worst. Alberic would come in to give me a hasty greeting, then take himself off to the priest’s hut so I could visit with Gwendolyn. I always hated that.”
“So all of William’s ranting has been to order you to kill Alberic.”
“Not all. He has spoken to me other times, just recently. About a fortnight before you arrived at the abbey, he woke me to say I should leave Bledloe, that my time there was done.” She smiled at Rhodri. “’Twas one of the reasons I was reluctant to consider Connor’s offer. I truly did not want to obey William. The one time I did he caused me much heartache.”
“It has always seemed odd to me that William could speak with you at will when other spirits cannot.”
“I assumed it was because he was the first spirit to speak to me, or because I worshipped him as a child. Or because no matter how many spirits I have helped, I have not been able to reach my own brother. The guilt has ever plagued me.”
“You have tried.”
“And failed, time after time.”
“Perchance this time you will enjoy better fortune.”
She hoped so. Dear God, she hoped so.
“William is buried in the village church. I believe we should deal with him before we enter the castle.”