by Holby Cindy
“What of our match? How long will we have to wait for the king’s blessing?” With all the commotion of settling into their new house, they had had little opportunity to talk since their arrival the day before. She could tell something about their audience with the king troubled Rhys.
“I do not know what he plans for us, only that he plans something.”
“It has something to do with Renauld,” Eliane observed. “Vannoy has no claim to me. Yet I can think of no other reason for the king to detain us.”
“We have both come to the same conclusion.” His eyes showed his approval of her observation. “You will do well here at court.”
“I would rather do well at Aubregate.” Eliane resisted the urge to place her hand on his cheek. To push back the hair that brushed across his forehead. “Thank you for your belief in me.”
“My wife pulled a knife on a woman who insulted her. I have absolutely nothing to worry about.” He raised his chalice in a toast to her.
“From your tone, I would surmise that it is not a usual occurrence,” she teased.
He smiled at her, and then suddenly turned serious. His eyes upon her were dark and deep, like a moonless night sky. His one arm was around her back, and the other on the table before her. Eliane held her hands in her lap and returned his look, trying to read his mood. He licked his lips and the possibility that he would kiss her right here in front of the king and everyone flew through her head.
“My loyal subjects—” Henry stood with his chalice in hand. “A toast. To Dermot of Leinster.”
All raised their wine and toasted Dermot.
Raymond de Gros rose also. “Who here will go with me to retake Dermot’s lands as decreed by our king?”
Rhys groaned beside her. “What?” Eliane asked. “What is wrong?”
“The king has neatly trapped everyone here,” Rhys said as he slowly stood. Eliane looked around the table. Every able-bodied man stood in his place. Including Renauld Vannoy. They drew forth their short ceremonial swords and raised them high. “Long live King Henry!” they shouted. “Long live King Dermot! Long live England!”
Eliane looked at Lydia. Her face was set, and showed no emotion, even though Peter stood beside her with his sword in hand. At the lower table, Robert Rochelle stood also and Jane’s face held a look of horror. Marcella, however, looked quite happy. She clapped her hands together.
Eliane gripped the edge of the table. “You are leaving me?”
“I must,” Rhys said. “It seems I am going to war in Ireland whether I want to or not.”
Eliane found herself at a loss as to what she should do. She had never been one to find enjoyment in sewing or weaving, nor did she take an interest in cooking. She had forever been a creature of the forest, exploring its depths and finding a kinship with the animals that dwelled within. Unfortunately for her, the forest was far, far away.
In the waning days of winter and early spring, Rhys was gone far more than he was at home. First the days were filled with preparations for the invasion in Ireland. Then he had to go to his lands and gather men-at-arms and funds for the coming siege. Armor had to be fitted to Mathias and the squire instructed in what was expected of him. The horses must have new shoes and the saddles and bridles be inspected for wear. Then Rhys’s armor underwent inspection by both him and Cedric, who polished it all until it was blindingly bright.
Eliane felt like a prisoner. The king would not let her go to Myrddin with Rhys, nor would he let her return home to Aubregate. She was under his most generous protection.
In the meantime, Renauld seemed to be quite taken with Marcella. Eliane hoped Marcella’s lands were richer than Aubregate and he would forget about her. Still, they both seemed to watch her whenever they were summoned to court dinners.
During these times Eliane found that she was grateful the king allowed her to stay in a house rather than at court. She was not under the constant scrutiny of anyone, save Khati. At times she was even able to get out and ride Aletha, but only as long as her men-at-arms were present.
When Rhys was in residence, he was so busy with preparations that he left before she rose in the morning and fell asleep as soon as he’d had his evening meal. Eliane found herself exhausted at the end of the day too. The endless days wearied her more than any hunt or harvest had in the past.
Her only escape was Lydia, who grew large with the child that she hoped would be born before Peter departed for Ireland with the rest of the army. Peter was as busy as Rhys, so Eliane kept Lydia company and her friend taught her to sew the painstakingly small stitches that were needed for tiny garments.
“The men talk as if the siege will be nothing more than a lark,” Eliane said as they sat sewing in Lydia’s quarters at the castle. It was the middle of April and the men were scheduled to depart in a week. Eliane dropped the piece she was working on and went to the window that overlooked the large courtyard. The weather was fine and dry for once, and the air was fresh from recent rain. Several squires were training below, Mathias among them, with Rhys watching and giving instruction. Llyr had taken to following him, much as he used to do with her. It was something to be grateful for. He could have kept growling whenever her husband came near. Not that that was a commonplace occurrence.
“It is true that the Irish warriors are not as well armed as our own,” Lydia said. “Their fortifications are weak also. Peter thinks it will simply be a matter of showing up to force Ruairc to surrender.”
“If it is so simple, then why do they carry on as if they are going off to the Holy Land for a crusade?”
“God save us from that,” Lydia said. “It is the way of men. They live for war. It is the women who suffer at home without news and wonder each day what is happening and whether they are coming home.”
“Madwyn once told me that men embrace war as they embrace their wives.”
“Madwyn is a very wise woman,” Lydia commented. “You must miss her.”
Eliane leaned her forehead against the pane of glass, hoping it would cool her body. Not only did she sleep most of the time, but she seemed to be perpetually warm. “I do…I miss everything about home.” She was so lonely at times, she felt as if her heart would break. She had turned into a weakling since leaving Aubregate. She needed the forest to restore her soul.
“Does it affect your hunger?” Lydia asked.
Eliane turned, curious at the strange question. “What do you mean?”
“You are sick for home.” Lydia put her sewing aside, pushed her heavy bulk out of the chair, and waddled most ungracefully to Elaine. “Are you having trouble eating?”
“Only in the morning. I can’t keep anything down. But come evening, I make up for it.”
Lydia placed a hand on Eliane’s forehead. “Sleeping during the day, unnaturally warm, and losing your breakfast?”
“Yes.” Eliane looked intently at her friend.
“How are your breasts?”
“My breasts?”
“Are they tender when Rhys…”
Eliane felt her skin turn bright red and Lydia stopped.
“I am sorry if talk about the marriage bed embarrasses you. I forget that some women do not enjoy it as much as I. Although with Rhys de Remy beside you, it would have to be delightful. Unless all the rumors I’ve heard are lies,” she teased.
Eliane dropped into a chair by the small table that held Lydia’s sewing and covered her face with her hands. “I fear there is nothing to enjoy,” she cried.
“What?” Lydia’s tone and face showed her disbelief. “How can this be?”
“It is simple.” Eliane lowered one hand and peered at Lydia through the other. “My husband does not share my bed.”
Lydia dropped heavily into the chair opposite. “That was the last bit of news I ever expected to hear.” She fanned her face with her hand, her body flushed from the exertion of walking across the room. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. He has the look of a man who desires his wife.” Lydia laughed. “The look of a man
who desires his wife most desperately.” She clapped her hands in glee. “Oh, you are a most cunning woman, Eliane.”
“Cunning? How am I cunning when my husband chooses to sleep by himself?”
“Because he desperately wants what he cannot have…No…wait. Did you say he chose to sleep by himself?”
“I did not banish him from my bed. He said he would not touch me unless I desired it.”
Lydia took Eliane’s hands in hers. “It is obvious you desired it one time. On your wedding night, I would say. The proof of the taking was there for all to see, was it not?”
“Our wedding night was a disaster that I do not wish to revisit,” Eliane confessed. She stretched her arms onto the table and pillowed her head upon them. “What do you mean that it is obvious I desired it one time?”
Lydia smiled at her. “You are with child, Eliane. The signs are all there. Unless you’ve had your courses. Have you?”
Eliane sat up suddenly, her mind reeling. She counted the days, the weeks, the months. “So much has happened since then…I have not.” Her mouth flew open and she clapped her hand over it. “No wonder Khati has been watching me so carefully. She knows.” Eliane put her hands over her stomach in wonder. The thought of a baby had been the last thing on her mind.
“Maids usually are the first to know everything.”
“But how?” Surely she could not be breeding. After one time that had been so…lacking?
“Eliane!”
“I know how it happens—I’m just not certain of how it happened with us. As I said before, it was a disaster.”
“Tell me about it, Eliane. You’ve kept this inside all these months. Tell me what happened between you and Rhys and mayhap we can fix it before he goes to war.”
“I don’t know what happened,” Eliane wailed. She dropped her head onto the table with a klunk and it rattled unsteadily.
“Tell me,” Lydia insisted.
Eliane sat up with a sigh and told her everything except for the part about meeting Rhys in the forest before their betrothal. She ended with a brief description of how Rhys had bedded her after Peter’s warning that Renauld was on his way. She watched carefully for Lydia’s reaction when she was done with the story.
“I have to agree with you,” she said. “Your wedding night was a disaster.” Lydia chewed on the end of her finger. “Yet it seems as if Rhys enjoyed it, if your description of his actions is true.”
Eliane made a face. “Why would I lie?”
Lydia laughed again. “I’m not saying that you lie, I’m just trying to gather my thoughts.” She let out a squeak and put her hand over her massive stomach. “The babe must agree with me. She kicked. Would you like to feel it?” She grabbed Eliane’s hand before she had a chance to answer. Eliane knelt on the floor before her and let Lydia guide her hand to the baby’s movement. “Do you feel it?”
She did. A ripple like a stone dropping in a pond. Then a thrust of a hand or a foot, she could not tell which.
A baby…a daughter born of this marriage…What would she look like? Would her hair be flame-colored like hers or would it be dark like her father’s? Would her eyes have the color of the forest or be as dark as the night? She rocked back on her heels and once more put her hands over her stomach.
“I’m going to have a baby.”
“Yes. You are. And now you must tell your husband the news.”
“Do you think he will be happy? Do you think it will change the way things are? What if he doesn’t want a baby? What if this makes it worse? How can I have a baby when things are not right between us?”
Lydia grabbed her hands. “Hush, child. Rhys well knows that babies come after marriage and has been wise enough to make sure none has come before.”
That thought had never occurred to Eliane, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Lydia stopped her with a finger to her lips.
“Do not go seeking trouble, Eliane. Tell him he’s to be a father and see what happens. My guess is he will be as dumbfounded as you are.”
“And what of the rest?”
“All you can do is follow your heart. It will show you your desire when you are ready. And I promise you this. Your one time was not as it should have been and Rhys knows it. What comes next must be decided between the two of you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He is a man who desires his wife.”
Eliane’s teeth found her lower lip as she listened to Lydia’s words. He might have desired her before. But would he now that she had a babe inside her?
If only Madwyn were here. She would tell her what to do. But Madwyn, like Aubregate, was far, far away.
Chapter Twenty
Rhys stared at his wife. She was waiting for a reaction. A baby? He blinked. “How?” Anger and pain flared in her emerald eyes and she turned to leave him. I am a fool. He reached for her and took her arm to stop her. “Elaine…wait…I am sorry…’Tis not news I was expecting.”
She wrenched away from his grasp. She drew her fist back, and he thought she might hit him. Rhys looked around the courtyard to see if anyone was watching them. The only one in sight was Khati, who was carrying a basket into the house. Rhys had been currying Yorath when she’d told him the news. The horse tossed his head at the interruption while Llyr, Rhys’s constant companion, yawned lazily, disturbed from his nap in the sun.
Rhys stepped away from the steed, to protect both horse and wife from her anger. Elaine took a deep breath and her eyes flashed beneath her dark lashes. He was very glad she was not wearing her sword or carrying her bow. He watched her hands carefully lest she pull a dagger from her sleeve. “What news did you expect to hear? That I was tired of waiting here for the king to make up his mind? That I was leaving and returning to Aubregate?”
“Nay.” He held out his hand. “ ’Tis a surprise. That’s all.” A baby? “Are you certain?”
This time she did hit him. She used her fist against his jaw and it jolted his head. “Do not mistake me for a fool, husband.” There was a note of disgust in her voice that angered him more than her blow.
He picked her up by her waist, no easy feat as she was nearly as tall as he. He pushed her against the stable wall and pinned her arms to her side. She tried to kick him but her legs caught in her skirt. He pushed his leg between them, effectively pinning her. She seethed, her eyes shooting emerald daggers at his face.
“Do not mistake me for a fool, wife.” She turned her head away as if she could not stand to look at him. “Is it mine?”
“Ohhhhhh.” She jerked her knee upward but he was too fast for her. He expected it. She jerked and she squirmed until he had to lean his entire body against her to keep her still.
“Is it?” His mouth was right next to the delicate peak of her ear and, as always, he wanted to kiss it.
“You must have doubts as to your prowess, husband, if you have to ask.”
Rage, red, hot, and blinding, washed over him. Through all this time he’d been patient with her, waiting for her to seek him out, and she’d chosen another to bed while he was running about the country preparing to go to war?
“I will show you my prowess,” he growled into her ear, then nipped it with his teeth. He found her skirts, raised them, grasped at the long length of her thighs and then her rounded cheeks. His erection pressed between them, and he released one of her hands to lower his chausses. He heard a growl, then felt a stinging pain in his backside. Llyr. He spun and knocked the dog away. Llyr quickly regained his feet and lowered his stance, his hackles raised.
“Is this how you wait for me to desire you, husband?” Once more disgust sounded in her voice. “What happened to your promise?”
My promise…Would he take her in anger? Against her will once more? With a curse he struck his fist on the stable wall. She sidled away, jerking her skirts into place. With a snap of her fingers, Llyr moved to her side and once more took up a protective stance.
“Wait!” He commanded her as he would Yorath or Mathias. He took a deep breath. Yorath pulled at his
lead and pawed the ground in agitation and Eliane put a calming hand on his neck. The horse immediately settled. “Eliane. Please wait.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I am a fool.” She drives me mad with desire. How much longer must I wait for her?
“I can now say we’ve found common ground in our marriage as I agree with you on that subject.” She folded her arms across her chest and looked at him with disgust.
“I will give you a whip and let you beat me,” he said. “It is what I deserve.”
“I would not mind the task.” A slight smile curved her lips and was gone as quickly as it came.
“Eliane…” Rhys ran his hand through his hair and grimaced. Splinters showed on his knuckles, along with blood.
“You have injured yourself.”
“I would rather cut off my hand than cause you pain.”
“You are maddening.”
“As are you.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Something else we agree on.”
“I have not played you false.” Her eyes dazzled him as they did every time she looked at him.
“I know.” He studied her earnestly. “I know.” Rhys rubbed his forehead. His cock throbbed and it took every bit of his willpower not to throw her down on the ground and have his way with her. “Believe me when I say I have not played you false either. I will honor our vows until the day I die.”
She nodded and turned to go. “As the news of this baby is a shock to you, I will give you time to think about it before we talk again.” Her voice broke. “You leave in a few short days. I would have this matter resolved between us before you go lest I go mad during your absence.” She left him, and he could do nothing but watch her go. He looked at his hand and the damage caused by his impatience.