“Oh, aye,” she replied almost without thought. “I did not think so at first, for who would not be angered at being taken by force? Then I could only think of getting away from him.”
Lady Eunice’s eyebrows rose at this, and she leaned farther forward. “Indeed? I have never heard any woman say that she wished to get away from Kieran.”
Glenys laughed. “I not only wished it, but made the attempt, though ’twas a terrible disaster.” She recounted the event very briefly to Lady Eunice, and they both ended up laughing.
“And you never made the attempt to escape him again?” Lady Eunice asked.
“Nay,” Glenys answered, embarrassed but unable to tell Kieran’s sister a falsehood. “I was not happy to be taken from my family, but I knew that I was safe with your brother. He is an honorable man, though he insists that he is not. I’faith, I think he wants one and all to believe him a complete rogue. A knave. But though I have not known him long, I know that he is as good and honorable as any knight of the realm might be. A bit of a scoundrel, aye, and given to jesting when ’tis least needed, but otherwise…” Her voice drifted off and she looked away once more. “He and Jean-Marc saved my life, and Dina’s, twice over. Once from a band of thieves, and again only yesterday, as he told you, from the men whom Sir Anton sent to kill us.” She lifted her gaze to Lady Eunice’s. “I do not think a man without honor would do such a thing. He has treated us well…despite our circumstances.”
“And he brought you here to me,” Lady Eunice murmured, gazing at Glenys with an odd expression. “Aye, Glenys, I think you understand my brother well. Perhaps better than I do.”
Glenys’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “I’m sure that’s not so, my lady. I have not known Kieran FitzAllen above a few days.”
“I think it must have been enough,” Lady Eunice told her. “S’truth, I think ’twas more than enough. But come. Let my maids dress you, and we will go down to the hall to join the others. ’Twill be time for the evening meal soon, and I would make certain that all is as perfect as it can be. If I can have you here at Hammersgate for only one night—for I know Kieran will never agree to staying longer—then we must make each moment as pleasant as possible. I have brought one of my own surcoats for you to wear while your own is being cleaned and repaired, and you will honor me by wearing some of my jewels.”
“Oh, but my lady, I cannot ask that of you,” Glenys protested.
Lady Eunice’s smile widened. “You do not ask, Glenys. I insist. ’Twill give me great pleasure to see you properly clothed and jeweled, and Kieran will be well pleased in turn. I can see by your expression that you do not believe me, but you will see soon enough that I speak the truth.”
Chapter Twelve
Kieran knew that he shouldn’t be here, standing on the balcony of the chamber Glenys had been given, hidden in the darkness and watching through the gauzy, silken curtains as she sat before a polished steel mirror, slowly brushing her long, unbound hair. Two of his sister’s maids had earlier removed the beautiful, emerald-green surcoat she’d worn at the evening meal, and the delicate circlet of emeralds and pearls that had crowned the braids attractively piled atop her head. She had looked as regal and beautiful as a queen.
Kieran hadn’t been able to draw his gaze from her; he’d scarce even tasted the food placed before him or heard what those around him said. He had only stared at Glenys’s fascinating face with all its angles and smooth, perfect skin—and thought of stroking his fingers over every inch of it. Running the tips of his fingers across the bridge of her high cheekbones, over the delicate curves of her ears. Pressing his palms against the sides of her long, lovely neck…and sliding lower to her shoulders…slowly, very lightly, a mere breath of touch to make her shiver. And lower still, until he could see her eyes filling with naught but pleasure, and the same desire that he felt even now….
The cool breeze lifted the curtains inward, parting them so that he could see Glenys more fully for a brief moment. The brush had fallen still in her hand, and she was staring at her reflection, a slight frown on her face. The maids had gone, and she was alone, dressed in naught but her chemise and a silky, dark blue robe that was left untied. The chamber was lit by both candle and firelight, which the increasingly fitful breeze teased moment to moment, sending shadows dancing about the walls.
A storm was coming. Kieran could smell it and feel it. Aye, mayhap a great storm to match the one raging within him.
He had never been so utterly bewitched by a woman. ’Twas a new and fully unpleasant feeling—and shocking, as well, i’faith, that such a thing should happen to a man of his age and vast experience. He was a soulless knave who’d never cared much for anyone apart from his family and Jean-Marc. He had felt great affection for almost every woman he’d ever known, even those he’d not taken to his bed, but love had eluded him.
Until Glenys.
He had been told by any number of other men that love was a dreadful, painful torment. He’d ever scoffed that he was safe from such misery, for love would ne’er find him— ’twas impossible that it should be able to make its way past the defenses surrounding his heart.
God’s pity, how foolish he had been! And how small his understanding. Love had not needed to come sneaking up upon him, striving to find the way to trick him. Nay, it had needed nothing but his own lackwittedness, for he had stolen it—her—of his own accord and to his own purpose. He had trapped himself.
Kieran knew there were ways to be free again. He could leave Glenys and Dina here and sneak off with Jean-Marc to some dark, quiet hiding place where they’d not be found. His sister Eunice would see Glenys and her maid safely back to the Seymour family. Glenys would not get to Wales as quickly as it suited her, but Daman would take her within another month or so.
Aye, Kieran could slip away now and save himself the misery of what would be their final parting. He didn’t let himself consider that there could ever be anything permanent between himself and Glenys, for that would be impossible. She would never be allowed to align herself with a man of his birth, and he could not help but think that she’d not wish to do so. She might want him—i’faith, he already believed she did, for he had seen her look at him in a manner he was well familiar with—but Glenys was far too sensible a female to let her feelings overwhelm what she knew was right and acceptable. How very unlike every other woman he’d known, he thought wryly. But that was part of what lured him. Her assuredness and strength and intelligence—perhaps even her unattainability. And so the time would come, after Wales and Caswallan, after he and Daman had met and fought, when he would be parted from her forever.
He might spare himself the pain of that if he left her now…but he found that he couldn’t. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t run away. Because love, as he had discovered too late, was a force beyond even his reckoning, and the thought of being parted from Glenys for even a moment before it was necessary was beyond consideration. It couldn’t be done. He was caught. Snared by both his need and hers—for she did need him, and very much, though she didn’t realize it was so.
Kieran watched as Glenys suddenly set the brush she held aside, then lifted her beautiful, sunset-colored hair in both hands, turning her face one way and then another to see how she appeared. Kieran knew enough of women to understand what her thoughts were, what it was she wished to see. When she dropped her hair and leaned forward, setting her face in her hands, he knew that she had also found her answer.
Kieran had never been good at giving; he’d been far better at taking, especially whatever was offered by a woman’s sweet hand. But now he was going to give a gift—to Glenys. And he would give it freely, if he possibly could, without binding her to him. It was the one thing that he could do for her, that he possessed the skill and experience to impart. Before he left her forever, he would make certain that Glenys knew she was most lovely indeed—at least in one man’s eyes. It would not be, mayhap, so fine a gift, for he was not a man whose admiration such a woman would p
articularly care to have, as jaded and unworthy as he was, but he would give it, nevertheless.
A sudden, harsh gust of wind lifted the curtains straight from the floor and put out several of the sputtering candles. Glenys looked toward the balcony’s open doors, not seeing Kieran where he stood in the dark shadows, and rose from her chair. As she neared the doors to close them, Kieran took the glowing stone out of his pocket and held it in his palm. It instantly gave off its gentle light, revealing him. Glenys stopped, surprise crossing her features for a brief moment, then she stepped back and took her robe in both hands, folding it over herself to hide her near nakedness.
“Kieran,” she murmured, staring at him as if he were a ghost, “what are you doing there? How did you come to be there?” And then, as it occurred to her, she added, with less surprise and greater distress, “How long have you been standing there?”
“A few minutes,” he lied. He’d been there well over an hour, and had shamelessly watched her being disrobed, but he had no cause to distress her over such matters. “I climbed up from my own balcony, which is directly below this one. ’Twas a simple matter. Will you not come out a moment?” He lifted his other hand toward her, beckoning. “The air is cool. ’Twill rain soon.”
She took another step back, her hands tightening on the robe. Shaking her head, she said, “’Tis cold. I wish to close the doors. Why have you come?”
“’Tis not too cold,” he countered, his hand held out. “The wind feels good. And only think how pleasant ’twill be to lie down upon warm, soft sheets once the wind has chilled your flesh.”
“I don’t wish to be chilled.”
“Then I will keep you warm. Come.”
She hesitated, gazing at him warily, but at last she moved forward, step by step, until she reached him. She did not take Kieran’s hand; he bent and took one of hers, prying it away from the cloth of the robe, and tugged her forward. He pocketed the glowing stone and slid that hand about her back, bringing her even closer and enfolding her in his arms. She did not resist, but stood in the embrace stiffly, perhaps even a bit fearfully. He could feel her warm, heightened breath against his neck, a stark contrast to the wind that buffeted them. Kieran rested his cheek against the top of her head and gazed upward at the dark clouds.
“You see? Warmth feels even better when ’tis cold. The wind whips about us, but we are warm and comfortable together. Do you remember the nights as we journeyed to York, when we slept on the ground, and I kept my arms about you to keep you warm?”
She made a sniffing sound against his skin. “To make certain I did not run away, is what you mean. I would have preferred to huddle with Dina, but that you would not allow.”
“That is true, in part,” he admitted, pressing his hands against her waist and back to hold her more closely, “but we kept each other warm, as well. ’Twas much like this, was it not?”
“Why are you here?” she asked once more, lifting her head slightly so that she might look at him.
Kieran gazed down at her, touching her temple lightly with his fingertips, brushing her hair back as the wind blew the silky strands upward.
“I came to see you,” he replied simply.
She tilted her head in confusion.
“To speak to me? Of Wales?”
“No. But if ’tis what you wish, I will oblige.”
“But why, then? I thought that you…”
“Aye?” he asked, gently pushing his fingers into the wealth of her soft hair, enjoying the way the strands caressed his skin. “You thought I would be seeking out the company of another woman? Mayhap one of the serving maids?”
Even in the darkness he could see her blush, and knew that he’d struck truth. He could scarce blame her for thinking such a thing. If she’d not been there—and if he’d not been so utterly besotted—he would have done exactly what she’d believed. Several of his sister’s serving maids had already made their interest perfectly understood, as they usually did when he made one of his rare visits to Hammersgate. Kieran could have had his pick from the lot of them, or several picks. But going to another woman would do him no good, despite the neediness that plagued him. Only one female could assuage it. He knew enough of physical pleasures to realize how different this was from anything he’d known before.
“Nay, I want none of them,” he told her, gazing into her eyes, which were as dark and beautiful now as the stormy gray sky above. “I have told you that matters have changed between us, Glenys, now that you are no longer my prisoner.”
She grew rigid in his arms and put her hands up to push him away.
“Go away,” she pleaded. “I have already said that I cannot bear to be made a part of your jesting.”
Kieran held her fast. “And that is why I have come, Glenys. Nay, stop pushing and listen to me, for I will not let you go until you’ve done so.” He waited until she grew still, her head lowered as if she could not bear to hear him speak. Kieran lowered his own head slightly, speaking softly near her ear. “I could have almost any woman in this castle sharing my bed—you know that I speak the truth. Yet I have come here. Not,” he added quickly when she began to squirm once more, “to dishonor you. Only to prove that I would rather be with you than any of them. And knowing full well that it will do naught to assuage my need.” He smiled and spoke even more softly. “I admit that ’tis pressing, for I have seldom gone so long without the company of women.”
She pushed at him once more. “Go to them, then,” she said sulkily. “You need prove naught to me.”
“Nay?” he murmured, closing his eyes as a particularly strong and cold gust of wind enveloped them. He loved the feeling of it, being buffeted, standing against it, holding Glenys warm in his arms, though she was shy and afraid and even a little angry. There was much work to do to convince her of his sincerity. Kieran believed he was equal to the task. “Let us go inside, Glenys. I felt a raindrop just now, and the storm will come in earnest soon. We will be safe and warm within.”
Her hands burrowed inside his cloak, fisting in his tunic. “Kieran,” she whispered in a voice so frightened that it made his heart lurch, “please go. I’m afraid.”
“I know, sweeting,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her ear. “I know. But if I go, you will only lie awake and worry and wonder, telling yourself terrible untruths. But you must not be afraid of me, ever, for I’ll bring you neither harm nor dishonor. Only pleasure, Glenys, and goodness. This I vow.”
Glenys was shaking as he led her inside and closed the heavy wooden doors behind them, dropping the long bar into its place to keep them shut against the wind. The curtains, which had been flying wildly, calmed at once, as did the firelight, which was all that remained of the light in the chamber. All of the candles had fallen prey to the coming storm.
She put her hands up as Kieran approached her, his steps slow and measured. He removed his cloak and let it drop to the floor, then began to unlace his tunic.
“Kieran!” she said with panic as he pulled the garment over his head and tossed it aside, exposing his chest and arms, so smooth and finely muscled. She could scarce continue to look at him, battling between astonishment at his beauty and fright at seeing him so exposed. She dropped her gaze to his booted feet…only to find that they weren’t booted at all. His feet were bare. How in God’s name had he climbed up the castle walls without boots on?
He kept moving toward her, and Glenys kept moving away.
“What do you fear, Glenys?” he murmured, his voice as gentle and unthreatening as a mild, warm breeze. “Is it me, or yourself? Or mayhap only discovering the truth of what I say?”
What did she fear? Glenys thought. She feared pain. And humiliation. Or that her feelings for him would be exposed so that he might laugh at them. He was so beautiful, so perfect, and she was so ugly in every way. Only minutes earlier she had gazed at her reflection in the steel mirror and seen the truth of that. He had looked at her in such an intense manner during the evening meal, or so she had thought…hoped. B
ut it could only have been a dream, and not the truth. There was nothing in her to attract the least of men, let alone one the likes of Kieran FitzAllen. The mirror was far too honest to let her think otherwise.
And yet…he was here, and his eyes were filled with unmistakable desire. And Glenys loved and wanted him.
What was she afraid of?
She knew so little about men, and had ever wondered what it might be like to be held and caressed and kissed by a man—to become one with him. But she had believed that she would never have the chance to know, for no man had shown any interest in her, not even for her wealth. But Kieran did not find her thus…at least, she did not think so. Even if he did not love her, he did seem to want her. If she turned him aside now, she might lose her one chance to know what it was like to be with a man. To be with Kieran. It would not matter if she gave away her virginity, for she would never marry. But she would gain something wonderful, even apart from knowledge. She would gain memories of Kieran to keep and cherish throughout the remainder of her life. What, then, did she have to be afraid of?
Glenys fell still. Kieran moved to stand in front of her, his smile tender as he lifted his hand to cup her cheek. He searched her eyes and Glenys was proud of herself for holding his gaze.
“You tremble,” he murmured. “There is no reason, Glenys. Can you think I would ever bring you harm?”
“Nay,” she said weakly, hearing how badly her voice shook, “but I am not…I have no…skills or knowledge. I know nothing.”
“And I know everything,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb lightly across her lips. “We are not well matched. I vow I wish I could be as you are again, but ’tis impossible.” He lifted his other hand, sliding his fingertips slowly down the side of her neck. “Have you ever been kissed, Glenys?”
“Nay,” she whispered, filled with both terror and anticipation.
He smiled. “Good. ’Tis most selfish of me, but I confess that I am glad to be the first.”
The Prisoner Bride Page 14