by Holby Cindy
“I do,” Rhys said. “Why else would he give the man such consideration? Vannoy has made no secret of the fact that he desires Aubregate. He believes there is a treasure hidden within the forest.”
“I too heard rumors of a treasure, although I never saw any proof of it in my years there.”
“The treasure of Aubregate is Eliane. None other matters.”
Peter grinned widely. “It seems that marriage does finally agree with you.”
“Only this marriage, with this wife. Any other would be lacking.”
“You love her?”
“I do.”
“Then I am most happy for you, my friend.” Peter reached out and clasped a hand on his shoulder. There was value in having a friend. One you could talk with freely. Still, Rhys did not confess to Peter his deepest fear. That once he told Eliane of his love for her, she would not return it.
“A rider comes,” William said. Peter held up his hand to stop the group. They were a large troop. Rhys had left those men-at-arms with families at Myrddin as they passed through. He had also retrieved the emeralds kept there. Emeralds that he planned to give to Eliane.
The rest of his men had chosen to come to London to experience the sights and sounds of the big city. Combined with Peter’s group, they were still an impressive number. They pulled off to the side to let the rider pass by.
Instead he pulled up when he saw their colors. “Lord de Remy?” he questioned. The rider wore the colors of the king.
“I am he.” A million thoughts tumbled through his mind, the first and foremost being the welfare of his wife.
“The king bids you come straightaway to the castle.”
Rhys nodded in agreement. He dared not speak. A cold, dark fear spread outward from his gut. What did the king want of him now?
Summer was nearly gone. The fields at home would be thick with crops. The hay long ago harvested. Apples bending the branches of the trees. Eliane loved this time of year; she loved going among her people and seeing the pride on their faces at their successes. The lambs would play in the tall grass, and the foals would run just for the sheer joy of it. The mill would grind from daylight until dark and the people would gather together for meals. Come September there would be a fair in the town with vendors and tricksters and musicians. The latest message brought by Jess from home did not say these things, yet Eliane knew them in her heart. She could close her eyes and see it all.
“And I am stuck in London still…” Why wouldn’t the king release them? Rhys had done his duty to the king in Ireland. She had stayed put in deference to the king’s wishes even though there were times when she thought she would pull her hair from her head and scream out of frustration and sheer boredom with her life. She was not one to simply sit and wait. She needed to be active. She needed Aubregate just as she needed air to breathe and water and food to sustain her. Surely she would die if she did not return soon.
If only Madwyn were here. But neither Madwyn nor Han would leave Aubregate with their mistress gone. Their duty lay within its borders. Eliane splayed her palms upon the mound of her stomach. “I promise you, little one. Madwyn will be the one to bring you into this world. Even if I have to deny the king.”
What will Rhys have to say about that? His letters bade her to be patient. Easy enough for him to say. He was off fighting a war while she was stuck in London, getting fatter every day. She looked down toward her feet. They were lost to her, gone beneath the round mass of her stomach. She wiggled her toes against the stone floor of the balcony just to make sure they still existed. She could no longer stand to wear shoes; her feet had swollen in the intense late-summer heat that had settled over the city.
The streams of Aubregate would be cool. As would the water from the well. The spring next to Madwyn’s cottage would do wonders to relieve the aches and pains that had settled into her back. Eliane placed her hands in the small of her back and arched against them. She closed her eyes and imagined Rhys’s hands there. Rubbing away the aches and pains. She could see him, placing his big hands on her stomach and his dark eyes widening in wonder at the antics of their babe. Their daughter. She kicked lustily as if she heard Eliane’s thoughts.
“Soon, little one, soon. Your father will be here to regale you with tales of his battles.” Soon…His last letter had said as much. He’d told her to watch for him in the coming days. That he could not wait to see her and his babe. That he had much to tell her. And I him…The first being that she would not be parted from him again. As much as she missed Aubregate, she missed Rhys more.
She missed the way he casually threatened to beat Mathias each and every day. She missed the way he teased her by turning her own words upon her. She missed the way he slipped food to Llyr beneath the table when he thought no one was watching. She missed watching him train Mathias, the way his back moved, the long length of his stride, the strength of his arm as he held his sword aloft. She missed the way his hair fell across his forehead and how he seemed to stop breathing when she pushed it back into place. She missed the way he looked at her with his dark, fathomless eyes as if he could see into her very soul. Sometimes when he looked at her, it took her breath away.
She missed him so much that she felt as if her heart had been ripped from her body and thrown into the sea that separated them. She loved him and she would do anything to make him love her back. But she could do nothing until he returned home.
The heat on the balcony became unbearable, and as always she was restless. Llyr had abandoned her long ago and sought shelter beneath the weeping willow in the corner of the yard. The branches moved lazily in the slight breeze that came from the river. Mayhap she would see for herself if it were cooler there.
Eliane gathered up the skirts of her pale blue kirtle and walked barefoot through the house. Cedric and Khati had gone to market, and only a few men-at-arms were about. The bell at the front gate tolled and she went to see who it could be.
There was no man-at-arms at the door as there should be. The bell rang again, and again, most insistently. Indeed she feared the rope would come off. Llyr trotted through the house and went to the door. He snuffed around at the door frame and whined. Eliane opened the view port.
“Mathias!” Eliane heaved up the bar and flung the door open. She threw her arms around a grinning Mathias. Llyr stood on his hind legs and pawed at Mathias, causing them both to stagger. They crashed into the open door and Mathias stuck out an arm to steady them.
“What—” Eliane looked beyond him in hopes that Rhys was hiding outside, but Mathias was alone.
Mathias interrupted her before she could go any further. “Milord bade me come and tell you he is here in London. The king summoned him before he could come to you.” He bent to rub Llyr’s head, and the dog slurped his tongue across his face. They both laughed at Llyr’s welcome.
He’s here. Joy and feared gripped Eliane at the same time. Rhys was home. The king had summoned him. Why?
“Milady, he is most anxious to see you and will be here as soon as possible.”
“I too am anxious.” She threw her arms around Mathias once more. “Oh, Mathias, it is so good to see you.”
The clatter of horse’s hooves drowned out her words. “Rhys?” Eliane turned from Mathias. Went out to the street. A troop of men bore down on her. But they did not wear the burgundy and gray of Rhys de Remy. They wore the black and gold of Renauld Vannoy.
Chapter Twenty-four
You have my blessing on your marriage.”
Rhys bowed before his king.
“Now take your bride home so that she may deliver your child in peace.”
“Thank you.” Rhys hoped his sigh of relief was not evident to those present. After a long wait, which had nearly driven him mad, he’d been ushered into a private room where Henry and his closest advisers were waiting. Pembrooke smiled benevolently at him, along with Peter’s father. He had served king and country well in Ireland and deserved his prize.
Henry smiled his approval, but h
is eyes held a warning. Beware of Vannoy. He expected Rhys to solve the problem of Renauld Vannoy for him. What does Vannoy know about Henry that gives him this power?
He decided he did not want to know. He wanted nothing to do with the intrigues of court. His sincere desire was to live his life in peace somewhere he would not have to answer to the whims of others.
“I will be like Edward and stay far away from court,” Rhys said to himself as he left Henry’s chambers. “I will take Eliane to Aubregate and raise our daughter and keep her free from these games of strategy.”
Rhys hurried to make his way from the castle. The woman he desired most awaited him. He needed only to claim her. Worrying about what might happen was nothing more than a waste of time. He would meet whatever was to come bravely, content in the knowledge that Eliane was by his side. An image of her face came to mind and the joy on it when he told her they could return to Aubregate. He could only hope that her joy would be the same when he told her he loved her.
“Rhys!” The voice stopped him just short of freedom. Marcella must have known of his summons and been waiting for him to appear. To leave without a word would be an insult, and the last thing he needed was someone else holding a grudge against him. He could not help recalling that the last time he’d seen her, she’d been in the company of Vannoy. It would be best to hear her out, even though he longed for nothing more than to escape Henry’s court, never to return.
She came to him, wearing a gown of pale pink that enhanced the delicacy of her face. “I am most gladdened to see you safe.”
“Our losses were slight,” Rhys said politely. “The battle no more than an exercise.”
“Modesty does not become you, Rhys.” She placed a fingernail against her lip, and then trailed it down his chest. Rhys recognized the gesture for the invitation it was. “I would welcome you as the hero you are.”
“You are mistaken if you believe my feelings for my wife have lessened in the time we were apart.” He grabbed her wrist and held it tightly between them. He well knew her penchant for striking out. The last thing he wanted was to greet Eliane with Marcella’s mark upon him.
“Wives come and go in these times.” Her pale blue eyes were like ice. “But a liaison born of convenience can be of great comfort.” She jerked her wrist from his grip. “Remember me, Rhys, in your time of need.” She gathered her skirts and walked away, leaving him with a feeling of dread. First the delay of waiting upon the king and now this. Was it all part of Vannoy’s last desperate attempt to take Eliane?
He could chase after Marcella and find out what she knew, if anything, or he could gather his wife and his household and make for Aubregate with as much haste as Eliane’s pregnancy would allow.
“Wives come and go.…” Rhys touched his silver cross and said a quick prayer. He had a sinking feeling that it was too little and too late.
The streets were crowded and his patience was thin. He had lost hours waiting on the king. He had no regard for the commoners who scattered before him as Yorath pounded through the streets. There was only one thought in his mind. Eliane…The men-at-arms who’d followed him tried their best to keep up. They had no idea where the house was, and Mathias had gone on, at his bidding, to tell Eliane of his delay. Rhys did not care. He just knew he must get to his wife, and as soon as possible.
When he turned onto the street, his heart leapt into his throat. There was a crowd gathered before his gate. He jumped from Yorath’s back before the horse could fully stop and the crowd parted. Mathias lay in the street, his head in Khati’s lap, his hand still wrapped around his sword.
“What happened?” Rhys fought the urge to lift Mathias by his jerkin and shake the answer from him. There was a lump the size of a fist on the boy’s temple, and blood mixed with tears streaked his face.
“He took milady,” Mathias said. “Vannoy and his troop.” Mathias grasped at his arm as Rhys knelt by his side. “I fear the time has come for you to beat me, milord. I have failed you greatly this day.”
The words penetrated the red haze of panic and fear that surrounded Rhys. He placed a hand on the boy’s cheek. “Your sword is bloodied, and you gave your all.”
Mathias swallowed and nodded. “I fear it was not enough.”
“Take care of him,” Rhys commanded, and Khati nodded. Tears rolled down her face, but her resolve showed in her eyes. “Where is Cedric?”
“He went after them,” Mathias gasped.
Rhys turned to his men-at-arms. “I know you are tired and weary of battle. Milady…” He stopped and swallowed back his fear. “Our lady has been taken. I need two of you to protect our home and people. The rest of us will pursue those who dared to take her.”
He swung onto Yorath’s back. His steed and his men needed a rest. In his eagerness to see Eliane, he had pushed them hard since returning to England. Now he had to ask for more.
“For our lady and for Mathias,” they said as one.
Fear and rage combined in Rhys’s soul. He saw not the road ahead, only his purpose and the pain he would inflict upon Vannoy if he harmed a hair upon her head.
What of the babe? It was close to Eliane’s time. Vannoy would not have mercy upon her because of her pregnancy. If anything, he would use it against her. Rhys could only hope that Eliane would do what she could to delay Vannoy. Once they were behind the walls of Chasmore, it would be almost impossible to rescue her.
“Be strong, be brave, but above all, be wise and do not make decisions in haste.” His fingers touched the silver cross around his neck as he prayed for guidance for both of them.
It was not until he saw Cedric coming toward him that his fear really took hold. Llyr lay bloody and boneless across the saddle before him and Cedric’s face was grief-stricken. Without a word Rhys halted his troop beside Cedric’s mount and reached out a hand to Eliane’s protector.
“He lives,” Cedric said. “Barely. He was spared the fate of our men.”
“Eliane?”
“She is gone, milord. He rode ahead while his men stayed to slay us. I fear she is lost to us forever.”
Eliane could not move. Her hands and feet were bound and she rode in the saddle before Vannoy. He held her tightly clamped against him, with his thighs beneath her, helping to cushion the impact of the saddle against her spine. There was no doubt in her mind that he did not know holding her thus protected her. He did it to annoy her, because he knew she could not stand his touch. She would bide her time and let him think her weakened because of her condition. He did not know that it only strengthened her resolve to escape him. She had no doubt of his intentions for her babe.
“I will cut it from your womb and leave you bleeding in the road for him to find,” he’d threatened.
“By doing so you will ensure that you never possess Aubregate,” she’d replied. They’d stared daggers at each other then, each one taking the measure of the other. Eliane knew that he needed her alive or he would never achieve his goal. He could only take Aubregate through her, or through the daughter she carried. So for now he must wait and Eliane prayed that somehow Rhys would catch up to them before they reached the walls of Chasmore.
“He will kill you.”
“He is a coward, or he would have done it sooner.”
“He is a man of honor.”
“His honor can comfort him in the grave.”
“He would never stoop to attack an unarmed boy as you did.”
Vannoy laughed. “I should have finished the job, just as I should have paid more attention to you, my sweet.” His tongue roamed over her cheek and into her hair. “Little did I know that the ugly child would turn into a beautiful woman. And you were right beneath my nose all this time.”
“Rhys will not have to kill you.” Eliane suppressed a shiver of disgust. “I will do it myself.”
He threw back his head and laughed. She wanted his laughter. She wanted his antagonism. They kept the fear from coming over her. Fear for the babe, fear for herself, fear for Llyr and Mathias an
d the men who’d tried to save her. Were they dead? She’d seen them fall, first Mathias before the gate, then Llyr as he gave chase. After that she’d seen nothing as Vannoy’s men-at-arms turned round to face her defenders. Vannoy, coward that he was, rode on, with her in his arms, knowing that they would not risk a bow shot when there was a chance she could be harmed.
“I need to stop,” she said finally. The babe constantly pressed on her bladder. She was already soaked with sweat from the heat of the day, the heat of his body, and the lathering of the horse that labored beneath them.
“So you can escape?” he asked. His breath on her face was foul and her stomach weak from hunger. She did not know how much longer she could hang on. Her head swam from the heat. She needed water, but more importantly she needed to relieve the pressure on her bladder. Her back was clenched in a spasm that was nearly unbearable.
“I have needs, as does your horse.” She clenched her teeth against the pain. “Or do you want my husband to find you on foot? It should make for an easy killing then. Unless you plan to use me as your shield.”
They were near a copse where a trio of huts was scattered. Vannoy roughly pulled his mount to a stop among a flock of geese. The horse blew heavily as Vannoy dropped Eliane to the ground. Her legs, numb from the ride, gave way and she fell into a heap in the dirt, catching herself with her hands. Before she had a chance to gather herself, he yanked her up by the hair, cut the bindings around her ankles, and dragged her to the door of one of the huts.
He shoved her inside without ceremony. The family, who had been eating, stood against the back wall. The man grabbed a shovel and attempted to swing at Vannoy. He pushed Eliane at the man and she stumbled heavily against him. Vannoy grabbed a small girl and held his knife to her throat. The women sobbed and screamed as the man sought to untangle himself from Eliane.
“Stop before he kills you,” Eliane said. “You see what he has done to me. Do you think he will feel compassion for you?”