Would he taste the same, smell the same? Or had he forgotten her? Perhaps he’d met some winsome noblewoman in Wallingford to whom marriage wasn’t laden with the difficulties Swan represented.
Grace’s teeth were chattering. Her cousin was as nervous as she. Swan thought she knew the reason. Despite her insistent attempts to hide her feelings for Bronson, it was obvious she pined for him. Swan recognized another woman in love. “You’re relieved to see my brother return,” she teased.
“Aye, it’s been too—”
She glanced sharply at Swan.
“—I mean I’ll be glad to see them all return safely, not only your brother.”
Swan eyed her skeptically, but all other thoughts fled as her kinsmen trotted into the bailey. She saw only Rodrick. He looked exhausted and in need of a shave, but his eyes lit up when he espied her. He leapt from his horse and strode towards her like a hungry dragon, his breath steaming on the frigid air. He stretched his arms wide, holding open his cloak. She tossed away the blanket and pressed her body to his as he folded the cloak around her.
“Swan,” he murmured. “I have missed you.”
She swayed against him, unable to speak, warmed by his heat, though his nose was cold. Inhaling the scent of man and leather and horse, she relished the strength of his arms, the power of his thighs, and the potency of the hard maleness pressed against her. Her belly was at peace. All was well.
Grace hugged her father and younger brothers warmly, relieved to see them return safe and sound. William seemed subdued and left quickly to enter the keep with Stephen.
Rodrick and Swan were in a world of their own, cocooned in her brother’s cloak.
Her mother and sister continued to cling to her father as she turned to Bronson, feeling like a frozen fool. She’d dreamt of his return, conjured visions of him enfolding her in his cloak as Rodrick had done with Swan, whispering words of love.
Instead he stood before her, kicking a toe into the icy cobblestones, his eyes downcast, an unbroken stallion snorting frigid breath in defiance of anyone who might presume to tame him. He still held the reins of his lathered horse in one hand, ready to flee if need be.
Rodrick and Swan broke apart. He picked up the blanket she’d thrown off and wrapped her in it, never taking his eyes from hers.
She walked over to welcome Bronson, her smiling lips swollen.
Rodrick came to Grace and embraced her. “Sister,” he declared. “How good to see your beloved face.”
She laughed, hazarding a glance at Bronson, now embracing Swan. If only the words had come from him.
“I am beyond relieved to see you, brother,” she murmured.
Rodrick too glanced at Bronson, a strange smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Let’s get inside, out of this cold,” the Countess urged as everyone made their way to the doors of the Keep.
Only Grace and Bronson remained.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, hoping her words wouldn’t emerge as shards of ice. “Welcome back, Bronson.”
Finally he looked at her. “May I kiss you, Grace?”
Her heart raced. She parted her lips. He took her hands and pecked a kiss on her cheek. Disappointment flooded her. Anger surged, prompting her to do the unthinkable. As he stepped away, she stood on tiptoe, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him firmly on the lips.
His eyes went wide. For a moment she feared he might pull away. Had she offended him, or perhaps it was disgust burning in his green eyes.
Suddenly, the blanket was gone, tossed to the ground by Bronson as he groaned, put his arms around her, and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She felt the hard evidence of his arousal. Desire skittered up her thighs and into the most private of places. Oblivious to the howl of the chilly wind and the grinning faces of the ostler and his lads, she clung to him, savoring the warmth of his mouth and the salty taste of him. She pressed her face against the soft stubble of his unshaven face.
As if awakening from a trance, he broke their kiss and stepped backwards, shaking his head. “Forgive me, Grace,” he said hoarsely. “I forget myself. It’s been a long while since I kissed a woman.”
Her heart turned to ice, her knees threatened to buckle. Her reckless act had merely awakened his male lust. “There is nothing to forgive,” she said, dismayed her voice trembled. “I kissed you.”
He smiled and proffered his hand. “Aye, you did. And a nice welcome home it was. Let’s get indoors. It’s freezing out here.”
Nice?
She had poured her heart into the kiss and he thought it was nice? The unsettling feelings she had for him were obviously not reciprocated.
The weary travellers slept for most of the afternoon, but the family gathered in the gallery before the evening meal. Rodrick chuckled at the sight of Swan in front of the hearth warming her derrière. He recalled how outraged he’d been at her behavior when they’d first met, yet now his mind filled with the notion of applying his hands to those warm cheeks.
She beamed a big smile and came to greet him. “My lord Rodrick,” she breathed, desire burning her in eyes.
He brushed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “My lady Swan,” he replied, his throat suddenly gone dry as the eastern plains the crusaders told of.
His mother beckoned them. “Come, sit while your father tells us of your adventures.”
Rodrick shrugged. “There was more tedium than adventure.”
Bronson agreed. “You’re right, cousin.”
William and Stephen mumbled something unintelligible. It suddenly occurred to Rodrick he was more at ease with his cousin than with his own brothers.
“Now,” his mother declared, getting comfortable in a chair near the hearth, “explain what kept you in Westminster after the truce was signed. We expected you a fortnight ago, now here it is almost Yuletide.”
To Rodrick’s surprise, his father proffered his hand, pulled her out of the chair, sat in it and patted his lap. “Sit, lovely wife. I’ve missed you too.”
His mother’s face reddened, but she smiled and kissed her husband’s lips. Their kiss deepened, only ending when several of those present coughed loudly.
“What?” Gallien de Montbryce declared with a smile. “Am I not entitled to kiss my wife after months apart?”
“Of course you are,” his wife replied, her face redder than Rodrick had ever seen it. “Now speak on.”
His father sobered. “There was much to be decided, much to be done to repair a broken kingdom. Tell them, Rodrick.”
It was a source of pride that his father had chosen to let him continue. “We discussed how to suppress the violence, pillaging and burning. Ejecting the gangs of foreign mercenaries will go a long way toward solving the problem. As a start, the castles they’ve built will be leveled. The process has already begun. Most of them have recognized their reign of terror is over and have already fled.
“There are still extremist factions dissatisfied with the peace process. Our part will be to assist Robert of Leicester to keep an eye on them and root out any seeds of rebellion.”
He looked at Grace. “It probably comes as no surprise to you that Godefroy de Cullène is among them.”
His twin shivered, though she stood near the hearth. “But on whose behalf would dissidents rebel? Eustace is dead.”
Bronson spoke up, looking directly at Grace. “But his brother William still lives, although I don’t see him coveting the throne. Others may push him however.”
His sister put her hand on the mantel, as if needing support. Rodrick suspected she was as much in love with Bronson as he was with her. He resolved to discuss the matter with Swan later.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“May I ask my brother to escort me into the Hall?” Grace said. “I have missed him terribly.”
Swan pouted momentarily, but then smiled. “Of course, and Bronson will escort me. Good idea.”
Grace breathed easier; no one seemed to have suspected she wished to avoid walking thro
ugh the hallways with Bronson. He seemed irritatingly relieved to be accompanying Swan.
The Earl and Countess led the procession along corridors already festooned with boughs of holly.
As usual, Rodrick sensed her mood. “Are you unwell? I understood you were looking forward to Bronson’s homecoming, anxious to show him the improvements you and Swan have made to his manor. Yet you’ve done naught but glare at him since our return.”
She studied the stone floor as they walked arm in arm. “I doubt I’ll go with them when they go to Shelfhoc.”
Rodrick lay a hand on her arm. “I thought you liked him.”
Her twin would immediately see through any untruth she might tell. “I do, but he doesn’t care for me.”
“Why do you think that?”
“It’s apparent he isn’t interested in women.”
As she spoke the words, her body heated at the memory of his kiss in the bailey. He’d enjoyed it.
Rodrick leaned closer. “Bronson guards his emotions,” he whispered, “but I have come to know him as an honest man, one I can trust. I believe he has feelings for you, but something holds him back.”
She was suddenly breathless, though their pace was slow. “What could it be?”
“I don’t know. Mayhap Swan can enlighten us?”
Swan held Bronson’s arm tightly. “I’m happy to see you safely returned, brother, but something is bothering you.”
Bronson studied the stone floor as they walked. “I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. What is it? Grace and I have looked forward to showing you our handiwork at Shelfhoc, but now she has intimated she won’t be going with us. What did you say to her?”
Bronson furrowed his brow. “Nothing. Mayhap she’s offended because I kissed her.”
Swan wanted to laugh out loud. “Why would your kiss offend her? She’s in love with you.”
He flinched, as if he’d been whipped.
“You love her, don’t you?” she whispered.
“Aye,” he replied sadly, “but it can never be. We’re cousins.”
Now Swan laughed, drawing William’s eye. “I’m the wrong person to use that excuse with.”
Bronson gritted his teeth. “I’ll not marry again.”
Sorrow for her brother’s loss swept over her again, as it did whenever she remembered the anguish on his face as he lay first Alys and then Beatrix to rest with his stillborn children. The cold north wind off the North Sea had frozen the tears on his face as he stood in Kirkthwaite’s graveyard.
But life was for the living. “You cannot punish yourself for what happened.”
“Death stalks me, Swan. I am destined to be alone.”
“Rubbish!” she exclaimed.
This time her outburst caught the attention of the Earl who came to a halt several paces ahead of them and turned around. She smiled weakly, and the procession continued.
She glared at Bronson. “Therefore you intend to punish Grace and yourself.”
“I love her,” he rasped, his jaw clenched. “I will not risk—”
“No, you’ll condemn her to a lonely life, when she could have had one filled with love for you and your children. You disappoint me, brother.”
She broke away, and strode off to link Rodrick’s free arm.
Swan paced in her chamber, rubbing her upper arms, hugging her breasts tightly. She and Rodrick had arranged to meet when everyone was abed. She wanted to discuss their siblings, but feared the moment he arrived she would attack him and insist he touch her again in those special places he’d shown her.
It was growing late. The fire in the grate had burned down, allowing the winter damp to settle on the chamber. Shivering, she climbed into bed and wriggled deep into the heavy linens, one ear exposed, listening for sounds in the corridor.
A warm kiss on her forehead startled her awake. The candle must have burned down, plunging the chamber into darkness. “Rodrick,” she whispered.
“Aye, my love. Were you expecting someone else?”
She sensed his grin and sat up. “No. I was cold, so I got into bed. I fell asleep.”
He sat beside her. “It’s late. Papa talked on and on. He’s filled with regret. He’s sorry now he named one of his sons after King Stephen.”
She leaned into him. “Stephen disappointed many people. It’s not your father’s fault he was a weak king. Perhaps if he hadn’t had to contend with Maud’s attacks, he might have made a good monarch.”
“You’re wise,” he said, nibbling her ear, his breath tantalizingly warm.
A warm lethargy crept into her bones. “We need to discuss Grace and Bronson,” she said sleepily.
“She loves him,” Rodrick declared. “As I love you.”
It was the first time he had uttered the words and her heart soared. “I love you too, Rodrick, and Bronson loves Grace.”
She sensed his surprise.
“I suspected, but why doesn’t he tell her?”
“He’s afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of killing her.”
“What!”
She gripped his warm hand. “Bronson has been married twice before. Alys and Beatrix both died in childbirth. Neither child survived. He believes he is cursed.”
He pressed her hand to his lips. “I had no idea.”
“He prefers not to speak of it. Their deaths broke his heart.”
“But Grace is strong. She deserves a chance to have children. We must force him to face his fears.” He came to his feet beside the bed. “I’ll think on it and we’ll talk on the morrow.”
“Don’t go,” she sighed as sleep claimed her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Everyone at Ellesmere was so swept up in the whirlwind of preparations for Yuletide it was more and more difficult to devise a plan to throw Bronson and Grace together. Swan and Rodrick barely had time to see each other, let alone plot a tryst for their siblings.
In addition, the men spent many an hour closeted with the Earl, planning strategy to deal with rumblings of discontent from Godefroy de Cullène and his cronies, though the general opinion was nothing would happen during Advent and rebellious activity was less likely during Yuletide.
By the third week of Advent, Swan had come to the definite conclusion that Ellesmere was not the place to arrange the tryst. As the hour for the evening meal approached, she lingered in the corridor outside the Chart Room and accosted Rodrick when he emerged. “Why not suggest to Bronson he spend Yuletide at Shelfhoc?” she whispered as they walked to the Great Hall. “He is chomping at the bit to go there.”
He frowned. “But he wouldn’t want to spend Yuletide alone, surely?”
She controlled the temptation to roll her eyes. “No, he wouldn’t be alone. I can say I want to go with him. The season of renewal is a marvelous time to begin life in a new home and I wish to accompany my brother.”
He pouted. “But I would miss you terribly.”
She inhaled deeply. “You wouldn’t miss me because you would be there too as a gesture of goodwill towards your Northumbrian cousin. And Grace would have to accompany us, because I cannot go alone with two men.”
“Ah!”
At last!
“She might balk.”
“Then it’s up to her twin brother to convince her.”
He rubbed a forefinger across his chin. “Maman will be disappointed.”
“Not if we let her in on the secret.”
“You’ve thought this through.”
Swan wasn’t sure what he meant, but decided not to question him. His head was probably still full of weighty matters discussed in the Chart Room. She leaned close to his ear as they entered the noisy Hall. “Are you with me?”
He grinned. “Aye!”
Bronson was surprised to see Rodrick on the threshold when he cautiously opened the door of his chamber. He’d wondered who was knocking late at night. “I was about to retire.”
“May I enter? There’s something I want to discuss.”
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His cousin seemed unusually nervous, so he allowed him entry. “What is it?”
Rodrick combed a hand through his hair. “Swan is pestering me. She wants to spend Yuletide at Shelfhoc.”
Now here was an interesting turn of events. He’d been trying to come up with excuses for not spending Yuletide at Ellesmere, longing to get to his new home. Grace and Swan had written glowingly of it and he had yet to set foot there. But the Earl and Countess would be offended if he shunned their hospitality for the Yuletide season. He played for time to consider Rodrick’s words. “Why didn’t she speak directly to me?”
Rodrick hesitated. “She feels you’ve been avoiding her.”
Bronson clenched his jaw. It was Grace he’d steered clear of, but supposed inadvertently he’d also withdrawn from his sister since the two women were often together. “Go on.”
“She wants to spend what she sees as her last Yuletide as a single woman with you, her brother, in your new home.”
Bronson was taken aback. “You believe you will secure permission to marry?”
If Rodrick and Swan married, then there was a possibility—
Why can I not get the notion of marrying Grace out of my head?
Rodrick braced his legs, arms folded across his chest. “I will marry your sister if I have to go as far as Rome for a dispensation.”
Bronson sensed where the conversation was going, but saw no harm in prolonging Rodrick’s discomfort. “But if Swan and I go to Shelfhoc, will you not miss her?”
His cousin eyed him suspiciously. “Man to man, cousin, I have more chance of dallying with your sister at Shelfhoc than I do here.”
He should have been insulted that Rodrick took it for granted he would allow such dalliance, but in truth he recognised he wouldn’t be the one to stand in the way of his sister’s contentment. Rodrick was an honorable man whom he trusted. He chuckled. “I suppose it’s true. I’m to be the chaperone? But what of your parents? I have no wish to offend them.”
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