Breath Of Heaven

by Holby Cindy

  Rhys looked at the dog in surprise. It was the first time the beast had come to him and certainly one of the few times Llyr had not growled at him. “Have you come to the realization that we are stuck with each other?”

  Llyr merely looked toward the tent.

  “I hoped to delay until she was asleep. But now I find my need for warmth overtaking my need for prudence.” He took a step, then looked around. “Where is Mathias?” Neither animal had an answer. Rhys ran his eyes over the campsite and realized he had not seen the boy since before dinner. Where had he gone?

  Rhys ducked his head into Peter’s tent. “Has William seen Mathias?”

  “Not since dinner, milord,” the squire replied sleepily from his pallet.

  “Have you misplaced him?” Peter asked.

  “Mayhap he is asleep with the men-at-arms,” Rhys said. “If not, I will call you to help search.”

  “Here’s hoping that you find him. It is too cold a night for anything but sleep.”

  Rhys checked with Cedric, who shared a tent with the men-at-arms and the guards. No one had seen Mathias since dinner. Rhys stopped to ask Jess, but the boy was sound asleep; the only thing visible beneath his furs was the tip of his nose and his woolen cap. Rhys went on to his own tent to ask Khati if she had seen Mathias.

  The tent was cast in darkness, the only light coming from the fire beyond. The door of the brazier glowed with coals, and the floor around it seemed cluttered. He recognized the height of Elaine’s mattress to the side and was certain Khati was upon a pallet on the floor. He would bid her sleep with Eliane for warmth. But would the maid think it odd that he did not join his wife in bed? Would he embarrass Eliane before her servant?

  Llyr passed him, taking a roundabout route to the mattress. Rhys realized why when he tripped, then caught himself before falling flat on his face. He peered down at what had tripped him and realized it was Mathias. He was sound asleep on a pallet and covered with his cloak and a blanket. Mathias snorted and rolled over onto his side. Khati giggled from her pallet.

  Eliane sat up. The light from the fire beyond the tent wall illuminated her profile. “I bade him sleep inside,” she said in hushed tones. “There was no room in the other tent and it is much too cold outside for a boy.”

  “Jess does not seem to mind.”

  “Jess is accustomed to it,” Eliane said. “He does not feel the cold as we do.” That answered the question as to whether Jess’s ears were like Han’s and Madwyn’s and the rest of the mysterious forest folk.

  Eliane lay down again and Llyr joined her, taking his customary place at the end of the bed. Rhys stepped over Mathias. With Mathias and Khati both on pallets, there was no place for Rhys to lie except beside Eliane on the mattress. He bumped his way around, realized that the thing caught on his ankle was a small stool. He straightened it, removed his cloak, and dropped it upon the stool. His weapons came next, and then he sat down upon the stool.

  “The least he could have done was attend to me before he fell asleep.” His anger at Mathias was unjustified. The squire was just a boy and had done as he was bade by his lady.

  “I am at fault,” Eliane confessed. “I saw he was weary. He did naught but obey my command.”

  “Shall I attend to your needs, milord?” Khati asked sleepily.

  My needs would send you screaming into the night…

  “Nay, Khati,” Eliane said. “I will see to my husband.”

  “I can manage,” Rhys protested, and started on his laces. Elaine rose from the bed and came to him. She wore a thick linen gown of white and her heavy braid hung over her shoulder. She knelt before him and he realized she was shivering with cold. Her hands tangled with his as she reached for the laces. She brushed his thigh, and his cock responded as it always did when she was near, coming to full attention. She was an innocent; she would not know what kneeling before him would do to his lustful body. The devil inside me…His grandmother’s beatings had done nothing to remove it.

  Rhys gritted his teeth and thought of disgusting things: uncovered trenches full of shite; maggoty wounds; rotten teeth, and pustules. Anything to keep him from throwing her down and having his way with her again. He would not touch her until she was ready. Until she wanted him in the same way that he wanted her.

  He brushed her fingers aside and she knelt back, her emerald eyes black in the darkness. Was she watching him? Could she see his lust? He dropped his cross garters and she moved behind him. He wore a leather jerkin over his tunic and he loosened the buckles as his body waited, coiled and tense, knotted in dread and anticipation at what she would do next. She lifted the heavy leather from his shoulders, set it aside, and then placed her hands on his upper arms. She moved them down until she found the hem of his tunic and lifted. Rhys raised his arms as she gently removed the tunic and set it in place with his jerkin.

  Her hands touched his shoulders again and she bent to his ear. “I am sorry that I am not versed in the proper way to disarm a husband. I will do my best to please you if you will have patience with my feeble attempts.”

  If only she knew how well she disarmed him. She clenched her fingers into his muscles, sensing the tension gathered across his back and neck. Her hands were strong, and he felt her touch down into his very bones. His head lolled forward and he sighed, deeply, at her ministrations. No one in his lifetime had ever given him such tender care. He felt his worries slowly fade away and thought that he might just be able to sleep, until she leaned into him and he felt the brush of her breasts against his back. He straightened.

  “It is cold and I must seek my rest.” His voice seemed bitter to his ears, snappish…but the words were spoken and he could not change the tone any more than he could alter the words themselves.

  She went to the bed and slid beneath the coverings. He had no choice but to follow. He did not remove his chainse or chausses. She would think it was because of the cold; he knew it was because he needed barriers between them.

  Eliane lay on her side facing the tent wall. He would have the warmth of the brazier behind him, but he would also be between her and anyone who came in during the night. Such choices a husband was required to make. Which was more important, the bit of warmth the coals would give or the amount of time he could give her to escape if there was an attack? He grabbed his sword and placed it on the floor next to the mattress.

  He slid in behind her and lay on his back so he could see the shadows that crossed between the fire and the door of their tent. He was certain sleep would elude him, so he would watch. He would not put it past Renauld to attack them again before they reached the protection of the king.

  As soon as he pulled the coverings up over them, her feet found their way to his calf and worked their way beneath it. She wore heavy woolen socks, but he could feel the chill in her feet.

  “Your feet are like ice,” he whispered. I promised to keep you warm…

  “I am sorry,” she said. “I was trying to put them beneath Llyr.”

  Rhys looked down at the dog that stretched across the end of the mattress. Her idea had merit. He pushed his own feet beneath the heavy mass and instantly felt the warmth provided by the huge dog.

  “He is proving useful,” he admitted, and she released a low tinkle of laughter. Both Khati and Mathias stirred at the sound and she quieted. His body still reacted to her nearness, so he thought about all the things that would come on the morrow and the day after.

  “Rhys?” she asked softly after a few moments. “May I ask you a question?” Her face was shadowed in the darkness, yet her eyes held the glow of the coals.

  He turned his head her way. “Do not fear to ask anything of me.”

  A faint shadow of a smile flitted across her lips. “You said that if not for Renauld we never would have met. How could that be possible?”

  He turned his body to face her so his voice would not carry to the two who slept on the floor. Llyr groaned at the disruption but stayed in his place. “Did your father not tell you the story?”


  “No. I know only that he saved your life, not the why or the how. Was Renauld there?”

  “He was,” Rhys said. “We were both squires for Lord Allen. Renauld was older and stronger—he made a point of bullying me whenever he got the chance. He took my food, my blankets, did whatever he could to make my life miserable. He pushed me into the mud that day, hoping I would drown.”

  “He has a devil inside him,” Eliane said when he was done.

  “My grandmother said the same of me,” he reminded her.

  “Nay…you are not the same. Not at all.” Her mouth stretched into a yawn and she shivered once more.

  “Enough of Renauld, lest he haunt you in your dreams,” he said. “Sleep now.”

  She yawned again, turned onto her back, and then with a sigh, rolled to face the other way. Her movement had closed the distance between them, and her backside nestled up against him. His arm moved of its own accord around her and she let out a contented sigh.

  Open trenches…maggoty wounds…

  Her breathing deepened and he realized she had fallen asleep. His left arm was trapped beneath him, so he moved it under her pillow, trying his best not to disturb her until he was able to bring it across her chest and pull her as close as possible. She nestled deeper within his arms and Rhys tucked her head beneath his chin. He let the fresh scent of her hair wash over him. How could one smell of springtime when it was the dead of winter? Yet she did. The fragile tip of her ear peeked between the strands of her hair. He resisted the urge to kiss it. He did not want to wake her.

  The members of court were bound to be curious about her. There would be questions. They would want to know what her reported deformity was. There were those who would hide in corners and spy on her just so they would be the first to know.

  I will protect you as best I can…Thank God, Peter’s wife had had the foresight to send the wimple. ‘Twould be a shame to cover her glorious hair.

  He would leave before she awakened, because he knew what state he’d be in come morning. For now he would just enjoy the closeness. This thing that was called marriage. Peter had told him there were benefits. Was watching one’s wife sleep one of them? Having a warm body to help you fight the cold? Knowing that someone trusted you enough to let you hold her when she was most vulnerable? Mayhap he should have his own talk with Peter come tomorrow and see what advice his friend could give him about being a husband. The thought was uppermost in his mind as he drifted off, content with Eliane in his arms.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She woke suddenly, chasing the wisp of a dream, her mind quickly trying to identify where she was. Something struck her, grazed her arm, and she froze until the flickering light of the fire beyond the wall of the tent reminded her where she was. She had never left home before. It was a strange feeling, waking and not knowing where one was, especially when one was not used to sharing a bed.

  “Can’t…breathe…” Rhys tossed his head beside her. One arm was beneath her, and he jerked it. His movements were agitated. He pushed at the coverings with the other as he flopped onto his back.

  Quickly she moved to face him. She placed her hand on his cheek. “Rhys. ’Tis just a dream.”

  His eyes opened. He blinked. He sat up so fast that he knocked her away and she fell against the pillows. He snatched up his sword from the floor beside the bed and stood, ready to defend or attack, whichever was necessary. He looked around the tent, searching for the threat, but there was nothing there except Llyr, who growled deep in his throat, and Khati and Mathias, who stirred uneasily in their sleep. Eliane raised a hand to stop Llyr. If Llyr saw Rhys as a threat and attacked, Rhys would kill him before he realized what he was doing.

  Rhys looked toward Llyr, and then turned to her. “Eliane?” His face was haunted by the specters that had visited him in his sleep. Did they come often? Did they plague him much? Her heart swelled with tenderness for the little boy who’d been left in the mud to drown and would have if not for her father’s grace.

  “You were dreaming.”

  He returned his sword to its place and rubbed a hand over his face before he sat down on the mattress.

  “What was your dream?” Madwyn often told her to speak of her dreams, as if they were the keys to understanding the happenings of the day more clearly.

  The coals within the brazier had died and her breath showed in the bitter cold. Eliane pulled a fur over her shoulders. Rhys leaned forward, his arms across his knees and his head lowered on them. He seemed so vulnerable. Not at all the strong warrior who had slain so many to protect her just a few days past. What further battles would come when they arrived at court?

  The story he’d told her about Renauld was horrible. But he’d spoken of it as if it were nothing. To be so young, so alone, and the subject of such brutality. Drowning in mud. It seemed as if Renauld always targeted the helpless. Puppies and small lonely boys. Thank God her father had been there to save Rhys. Thank God her father had seen the honor in him, evident when he was naught but a boy. It could have been so easy for Rhys to choose not to honor his promise to her father. He might never have written to her father. He could have dallied instead of answering the summons. He could have taken the easy way and disregarded the man who’d saved his life; instead he chose to honor the man and the promise he’d made to him.

  “Were you dreaming of the mud?” She placed a hand on his back and felt him flinch. Was it so painful for him to be touched by her? He worked so hard to avoid her, only touching her when it was necessary or when someone watched them. She pulled her hand away. She’d only meant to comfort him, just as she had done when she rubbed his shoulders. Still, he rejected her touch. She was a disappointment to him as a wife, and especially as a woman. What else could it be?

  Yet he warmed me…held me when I was cold…He shows nothing but tenderness where I am concerned. If only Madwyn could have made this journey with her. There had been too little time for her to ask questions, for her to learn what it was to be a wife.

  He sat up, his resolve once solid, unyielding. “It will be dawn soon. Peter wants an early start.” Rhys left the bed, taking his warmth with him. “It seems he is most anxious to see his wife.” Was that bitterness in his voice? He shivered as he picked up his things, hastily pulling on his tunic, lacing his cross garters, pulling on his boots. He kept his face hidden, looking anywhere but at the bed and at her.

  To Eliane the night seemed as black as it was when they fell asleep. Dawn surely was a long way off. There was no light beyond the walls of the tent save the flickering of the campfire. Rhys placed his cloak over his shoulders and gathered his weapons. He started to leave but stopped when he noticed the coals had gone out in the brazier.

  He knelt before it, placed a knot of wood and some tinder inside, and blew into the coals. The flames came to life and illuminated his profile; his strong jaw, covered with a stubble of dark beard, his full bottom lip, his straight nose, his broad forehead with its arched brows. His dark hair brushed against his shoulders and fell across his face as he leaned forward to check the heat before he closed the grate. “ ‘Twill keep you warm,” he said with a glance in her direction. “Sleep some more. I will wake you when it is time.”

  He left and to her surprise, Llyr went after him. Traitor…She felt terribly alone. She longed for the comfort of Aubregate, of her big bed in the tower, the familiar sounds of the keep, the knowledge that her father was below and all was well with the world. She missed Madwyn and Han, Matilde and Ammon. She was going to a strange place where no one knew her. Where they would look at her with disdain because of her ears. Where she would be nothing more than a pawn in a rivalry between Renauld and Rhys. Could wedding vows be put aside by the king?

  She should have run to the forest and hidden where she would never be found. Instead she was here, freezing and terribly alone. Eliane shivered at the cold and burrowed under the blankets and furs, seeking what heat Rhys had left behind, knowing that when it came time to wake once more, he w
ould send Khati to her. She’d failed miserably as a bride and had no one but herself to blame for it.

  Eliane woke the second day of the journey as she had the day before. Alone. Once more Rhys had joined her in the bed after everyone else was asleep, as if lying with her was the last resort. Yet she felt his presence in the night, felt him gather her in his arms to warm her, felt his soft breath against her ear as he held her. But when she woke in the morning, he was gone, causing her to wonder if she had only dreamed about him.

  Today she would meet the king. They would be in his presence before dinner this eve. Rhys had made use of Jess and sent him ahead with a message to assure Henry that he was indeed on his way and most anxious to appear before his liege with his new wife. Jess had returned with an answering message. Rhys and his bride were to come directly to the king as soon as they reached the city. There was no mention of congratulations, or of the king’s favor. Rhys made no comment about the message, merely read it to her and bade her dress in her most formal attire for their meeting with the king.

  Khati handled the thing called a wimple with some trepidation while Eliane pulled on her best pair of boots. They were dark brown leather and came to midcalf. She had green slippers embroidered with gold thread that matched her gown, but the boots would be more practical. They had not yet reached London, and even though the roads were clear of snow here, they were still messy. There would be no time for her to change beforehand. Everything must be perfect now. She also slipped one of her daggers into a sheath especially sewn into the lining of her boots and her jeweled dagger into her gold chain belt. She would not go unarmed, especially when she did not know what to expect. It mattered not that she would be in the presence of the king. Rhys expected Renauld to be there.

  Eliane smoothed the skirt of her dark green velvet bliaut. Beneath it she wore pale gold in the softest wool. The hem and wide sleeves of the dark green were embroidered with gold thread in an intricate design of stags and trees. The colors and the pattern symbolized Aubregate. It reminded her of her purpose, to protect the land at all costs.