by Holby Cindy
Rhys closed his eyes and saw her as she’d been, beneath him, staring up at him with those emerald eyes full of wonder and surprise. He’d been determined to show her, to seduce her, to make her want him with the same longing he’d felt since the first time he saw her. If Edward could have waited a few more moments, it would be done. But would a few moments have been enough to get his fill of her?
He took another drink of the wine and cursed himself for a fool. You are crying like a lovesick troubadour.
Mine. She will be mine. With a snarl, he flung the wine away and watched it crash against the stone of the wall. He was tired of waiting. Tired of wanting.
A sound broke the silence as what was left of the wine trickled down the wall into a puddle. It was a mournful, deep tone that seemed to shake the stones around him. It sounded as if a large and powerful creature was in deep pain. Rhys had never heard anything like it. The sound faded away into the distance, but its echo remained. He turned to the window again and looked upward. Fat snowflakes now mingled with the sleet. The sound came again, and he realized it must be some type of horn, but he could not imagine what it was. If he had been in the forest, he would have said it was mystical, but here in the keep it was haunting. Whoever was making the noise was in the tower above him.
Edward is gone. Rhys found his chausses and pulled them on, yanking the cross garters into place with frustration. Had he become so lazy that he needed Mathias to tie them for him? He grabbed up his linen chainse and threw it on, leaving the ties undone. He jerked on his boots and left the chamber. The noise sounded again as he stepped into the hall. Voices sounded from below, sleepy, disgruntled, confused, and then a keening wail from a woman. Edward.
William opened the door, clad only in his chausses, his hair on end, and his eyes red and swollen. “Where is Mathias?” Rhys asked.
“Here.” William moved so Rhys could see Mathias, flat on his back in the bed, still fully dressed and snoring to high heaven. “He is drunk,” William added.
I will surely beat him later. “Leave him,” Rhys command. “He would be worthless anyway. You can serve in his stead.”
“What has happened?” William moved to get his chainse and boots.
“Edward is gone.” He took the winding staircase down, two steps at a time. The door to Edward’s chambers was open. A sheet covered the frail form on the bed. Cedric sat in a chair, his head in his hands, and Eliane…
She stood before the window, looking out at the driving snow. Her hair tumbled down her back in a mass of tangles to her hips. Tangles he had made in his passion. Tangles she had not taken the time to comb out in her haste to be by her father’s side. Her arms were folded about her and he could see the ring he’d given her on her finger as she clutched her upper arms as if she were chilled. The dog was by her side and leaned into her, butting her arm with his nose as if he could offer comfort. She dropped her hand to touch him and twined her fingers into the hair of his neck.
Rhys came up behind her and the dog rumbled deep in its throat without turning its head to look at him. So we are to be at war, you and me. He stared at the dog until the beast dipped its head, acknowledging that this time, Rhys had won the battle. Both knew they were still at war.
Eliane turned. Her cheeks were stained with tears, her eyes swollen, and the tip of her nose quite red. He did not know what to do. He’d made it a habit to avoid women when tears were involved. It usually meant they wanted him to stay when he wanted to go. He always walked away, not letting the tears trap him into foolish words that would later haunt him. Words and tears were ready weapons in a woman’s arsenal. Weapons that a wise man avoided at all costs.
“He’s gone.” Her words were simple, yet spoke volumes.
Rhys flexed his hands, placed them on her upper arms. Stepped closer to her. “I’m sorry.” Was that enough? Should he say more? Should he say that he too would mourn for the only man who ever gave a damn about him? How could he compare his grief to hers? Edward was everything to her. Rhys had no knowledge of what it was to feel something so strong for anyone.
Her teeth worried her lower lip as she looked at him, her eyes moist and as deep as the sea. She nodded her head, up, down, agreeing with whatever it was he said; he could not remember after looking into her eyes. Very slowly, she lowered her head and tentatively placed it upon his shoulder. She stepped to him and put her hands upon the skin of his chest where his chainse was open. His arms seemed to fold around her of their own accord and he rested his chin on top of her head as she found what peace there was to be had in his embrace. Were there words he should speak? Words of comfort that would be meaningless against the tide of grief she felt. She seemed content without the words, so he held her and hoped that his still throbbing cock would not chase her away.
Whatever passed between them in that moment was short-lived. Han rushed into the chamber. He was once more dressed in his usual garb, and his woolen cap was covered with ice. Had it been he who blew the mournful horn? Madwyn came behind him. She too had changed out of her wedding finery.
“Visitors approach,” Han said. “Vannoy.” He spat out the name.
“How can you be sure?” Rhys asked. Eliane moved away from him, her face pale with worry. She once more twisted her fingers into the hair of the dog’s neck. The dog stood at attention, watching the faces around him, as if he could read their intent.
“He knows, believe me,” Madwyn said. “Han can see things. Further and deeper than most.”
“He hopes to stop the wedding,” Han said. “He has no way of knowing it has already occurred.”
“He cannot stop it! We are wed. The papers are signed.” Eliane’s voice was panicked and she looked between the three of them for some sign of agreement.
“Not all is complete,” Madwyn said. “You must be bedded before it is binding.”
“Wha…what?”
“The wedding is not complete until I bed you.” Rhys saw her fear. Was it of him? Before, she had seemed willing. Most willing. “Our marriage can be put aside without it.” He looked at Han. It was the first time he’d seen him other than calm. “How long before they arrive”
“Not long. I had the gates closed. He is on your king’s mission. We will have to open them eventually.”
Rhys grabbed Eliane’s hand. “We must hurry.” He pulled her from the room with Madwyn on their heels. The dog followed. The dog would be a problem.
“Where do we go?” Eliane asked. “What is happening?”
“You must trust your husband,” Madwyn said. “You must do as he says.”
They passed William on the stairs and Mathias behind him. He looked ill.
“Your master will soon be at the gate,” Rhys said to William as he pulled Eliane up the curving stone steps. “Do what you can to delay their entrance to the chambers above.”
“Renauld would not dare,” Eliane said. “A Vannoy has never set foot within these halls.”
“One will tonight,” Rhys said. “By order of the king.” They burst through the door of her chamber. Madwyn was still with them and he turned on her as she crossed the room. “Do you intend to watch?”
“Don’t be a fool,” she said. She handed him a crock with a carved lid. “This will ease the way,” she said. She grabbed the dog by the neck once more and hurried him out. “Bar the door,” she added. “I will do what I can without calling the king’s vengeance down upon us.”
Rhys pulled the chain that hung beside the frame over the door. He wondered if it had ever been used. Its only purpose was to protect the occupants in case of an attack. He went to the trunk where Eliane’s weapons lay and picked up the short sword. He should have sent Mathias for his weapons, but there was no time. No time at all.
Eliane stood where he’d left her. Did she not know what she had to do? What he had to do? “Take off your robe and get into bed,” he said gently. He tossed the sword and the crock on the mattress. He pulled off his chainse and loosened his chausses. He dared not strip further. If he had
to face Renauld, he would not be vulnerable. There were shouts outside. They drifted through the icy air and rang against the window. Renauld had arrived.
Eliane raised her eyes to him. Her expression was grief-stricken, her eyes wide: confusion, desperation, sadness, despair, and fear all mingled on her face. She was stricken. He felt as if he were going to betray her. He had no choice. “We must hurry.” He yanked the robe from her body. She did not help him, nor did she fight him. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. She said not a word. He pulled the top sheet away with one hand and dropped her upon it.
He heard another thump, the sound of horses, more shouts, and then a scrambling on the stairs. There was a scratching sound and he reached for the sword. A bark, then a howl.
“Llyr,” she gasped.
Her hair was wild and her eyes, her beautiful emerald eyes turned up to him. A tear coursed down her cheek. Understanding dawned on her face and she lay back and slowly spread her legs. His cock strained forward. He needed no encouragement. He was ready to burst.
God…He had to do it. Even though she was not ready. Rhys stuck his hand in the crock and brought out his fingers covered with a smooth unguent. He placed one hand on her stomach to steady her and found her opening, pushed his covered fingers through her barrier hard enough to break through. A few drops of blood fell to the sheet as he pulled his fingers free. He grabbed her hips, pulled her body close, and plunged inside her in one mighty shove.
She did not say a word, although her face twisted in pain. She kept her eyes upon him, even when the tears came and ran into her hair.
“I am sorry to cause you pain,” he managed to say. She was so tight, but the unguent eased his passage and he was able to move inside her. As soon as he did, he was lost. Somehow he placed her legs around his waist and fell forward, propping himself on his elbows, his legs still on the floor. He wrapped his hands in her hair. He needed something to hold on to…someone…Eliane closed her eyes and he hated himself. Still, he moved because he could not stop moving, pumping inside her, grinding against her hips, with the pressure building and the dog howling and scratching at the door as if to tear it down. The howling was so loud, Rhys could not hear anything else. The keep could be falling down around their ears and they would not hear it. He could only hope that Han and Madwyn and perhaps Peter were keeping them safe. Then he could not think at all.
Still, he said it over and over again. “I am sorry.” Until all he could say was her name. Then the world spun around him and the stars came, dazzling, into his mind and he shut his eyes in release. But through it all, he could still see the betrayal on her face.
Chapter Fifteen
She was weak and she hated herself because of it. Why else would she cover her face and turn away from her husband when all he’d done was save her and thus save Aubregate? While she lay on her side with her legs tucked up close to her, Llyr howled and scratched at the door. She felt Rhys move from the mattress where he had collapsed when he was finished. She heard the heavy sigh he let out as he stood and moved about the room. She could do nothing to stop Llyr’s howling, just as she’d been able to do nothing to stop what had just happened. It was her duty as a wife to submit to her husband.
“Eliane,” he said. “Look at me.”
Submit to you, husband…She recalled the words of the wedding vows she’d spoken, and she opened her eyes. His gaze was upon her, his eyes fathomless black pits in his haggard and weary face. Did he feel the pain of her father’s passing also?
He is gone…
Rhys grasped her shoulders and pulled her up to sit. She was grateful to see he was covered once more, but only from the waist down. She did not think she could stand to look upon him otherwise. The pain between her legs was still fresh, and inside she felt raw. Was this what submission meant? To accept her husband’s possession, even though there was pain? What about before, when he’d kissed her and held her and touched her? There was no pain then, only a longing for something she could not explain. Was this all there was to being married? Was this what her father mourned all those years after her mother was gone? Her name was the last that he spoke. He died with it upon his lips, as if he saw her.
“Drink this.” Rhys handed her a goblet half-filled with wine. She obeyed, drinking it all down when he placed an encouraging finger beneath the cup to hold it up. When she finished, he took it from her. As he moved away to replace the cup on the table, Eliane saw the blood of her lost virginity splattered upon the sheet. She once more closed her eyes. She felt her robe come over her shoulders and then Rhys gently guided her arms within and pulled her hair from beneath it. How could he be gentle with her now, when before there had been nothing but pain? Yet he’d seemed to enjoy the mating. The sounds he made bespoke great pleasure. Was it thus for men? Was that why they sought the act so desperately? Was that why women were encouraged to submit to their husbands?
“I would speak with you if only yon dog would stop howling.” He looked over his shoulder. “And if we did not have visitors bearing down upon us.”
As if Llyr heard Rhys’s request, he stopped howling and they both turned their eyes upon the door. There was the sound of growling, and then Llyr yelped. Eliane stared at the door, unable to move.
Someone pounded on the door. “Open in the name of the king!” The pounding continued.
“Vannoy.” Rhys spat out the word and picked up his sword.
It had been years since Eliane had heard Renauld’s voice, but Rhys seemed certain. He turned grim eyes upon her before he turned to the door. The pounding increased. Renauld had to be putting his shoulder to the door. The portal seemed to bow inward with each heavy thump. There were more shouts and Madwyn’s could be heard among them.
“Rhys.”
He turned and looked at her, his eyes betraying no emotion. She did not know him well enough to guess what he was feeling.
“I will not shame you…husband.”
Something flashed in the dark depths of his eyes, and a smile flitted across his features before he turned once more to the chain. He removed it and then moved back to the bed. He sat down before her on the edge of the mattress with the sword in his hand and the blood clearly visible on the sheet beside him. She took shelter behind him, exceedingly grateful for his presence. If not for him and her father’s forethought, her situation would be dire. This was what she had always dreaded, but never had she imagined having the stalwart presence of a husband such as Rhys de Remy protecting her. Renauld would have to look over or through him to see her.
The door gave way and slammed against the table behind it. It seemed as if the entire population of the keep stood in her doorway, with Renauld Vannoy foremost in the room. Llyr bounded through and jumped upon the bed, taking up a position at the foot of it.
Renauld’s hawkish eyes took in everything. The disarray of the sheets and her hair, Rhys sitting casually upon the bed, with his chest bare to the world, as if he’d just risen from a lengthy night of lust. Eliane tightened the belt on her robe and placed a hand on Rhys’s shoulder to steady herself. She felt the warmth of his skin and the tension of his muscle beneath. He was ready to strike if need be. The thought gave her comfort.
“It appears that you have rushed your vows.” Renauld swaggered into the room, his eyes roaming about as if taking inventory of her belongings. Her skin crawled at the thought of him in her room, in the keep, with her father’s body not yet cold and still lying below. She did not realize that she had tightened her hand upon Rhys’s shoulder until she saw the skin beneath her fingers turn white. She relaxed her hand.
Rhys’s eyes followed Renauld as he stalked about and finally came to a stop before them. Behind him, in the doorway, she saw Peter, Mathias, William, Han, and Madwyn. She was sure there were more in the hall beyond. Were there servants and townsfolk lined up on the staircase, waiting to parade past and see for themselves that she was now wedded and bedded? Surely Renauld had to know that the deed was done and could not be undone in the eye
s of the Church or the state. Can it?
He saw. His eyes lit upon the blood, which was glaringly obvious against the white of the sheet. Rhys even pointed her sword tip toward the mattress in case anyone missed it. He did it casually, as if he were doing nothing more than playing with a toy. A very deadly toy.
“The banns called for the ceremony to be tomorrow. I am certain the king will wonder why there was a need for such haste when he has just now called Eliane to court to be his ward.”
“It was her father’s dying wish to see her properly wed,” Rhys said.
“Edward is dead?” Peter asked. Dear, sweet Peter. His face seemed stricken while Renauld did nothing to suppress the satisfied look on his countenance.
“He is,” Han said evenly. “As I tried to tell you when yon fool pounded down the doors to the keep.” His contempt for Renauld was obvious even though his words were as calm and stoic as ever. It was miraculous that he had not slain Renauld before their long-standing enemy set foot within the keep. Han was wise enough to know that it would do more harm than good to slay the man when he was on the king’s business.
Peter bowed low in the direction of the bed. “I am so sorry, Lord de Remy. Lady de Remy. Your father was a great man and will always have a place in my heart.”
“Thank you, Peter,” Eliane said. She moved a bit from behind Rhys so Peter could see her face and the genuine gratitude she felt at his kind words. She saw Renauld’s eyes upon her and felt Rhys stiffen beneath her hand. The look on Renauld’s face was one of amazement, as if he’d never seen her before. She turned her head away from his stare and wondered at it. She knew her ears were well hidden beneath her hair.