Elizabeau straightened her surcoat and brushed at the stray locks of hair around her face. “Thank you,” she looked up at him, still brushing off the dirt. “I am sure I would have rotted there had you not saved me.”
His grin was back. “Somehow I doubt that,” his gaze moved over her in a way that suggested he appreciated what he saw. “Did you sleep well last night? You were sleeping quite soundly when I left.”
She nodded. “I did, thank you,” she eyed him a moment. “I came out here to look for you but Dylan said that you took your son to visit his mother’s grave.”
His smile faded. “I did.” It was apparent that he did not wish to discuss the matter. “I plan to head to town and purchase some garments for you to sleep in. What would be your preference?”
She would not push the matter of Gwyneth’s grave; it wasn’t any of her affair, anyway, nosy woman that she was. “If you simply purchase the material, I can sew it,” she said helpfully.
“There is a fine dressmaker in St. Briavels. She usually has several pre-made garments available for purchase. In fact, that is where my mother has done some of her shopping in the past.”
“Are you sure I cannot come?”
“I am afraid not.”
“But I would like to pick out my own material. And I would like to see your castle.”
Any warmth remaining in his face was gone. He shook his head, averting his gaze after a moment to kick at the dirt at his feet before moving around her, heading towards the manse.
“Out of the question. Come back inside now.”
This time, she wasn’t going to acquiesce and she wasn’t going to apologize. True, it wasn’t any of her business, but she realized that she wanted to make it her business. It was stupid, foolish, and everything illogical that she could imagine. But that didn’t stop her.
Crossing her arms stubbornly, she watched him until he was almost to the front door. When he realized that she wasn’t following him meekly, he stopped and looked at her.
“Come along, my lady.”
Her gaze lingered on him a moment before she turned away and began to walk in the opposite direction.
“No.”
She hadn’t taken three steps when she heard his very rapid, and very heavy, footfalls. An enormous hand reached out to grab her, halting her forward momentum. When she glared up at him, he was looking quite coldly back at her.
“This is not a matter for debate,” he said evenly. “Come back inside with me now.”
She yanked her arm out of his grasp. “I am not going anywhere with you. Leave me alone.”
He watched her walk off towards the road that led to the town of Llandogo, knowing she was angry with him because he would not let her ride into town with him. He thought he had explained his reasons quite adequately. But she was spoiled and demanding, and more than likely, used to having her way in matters. He had known that since the start. Turning his back on her, he walked halfway back to the manse until he thought better of his actions and he came to a halt, turning once again to see that she had perched herself on a stump near the road. He watched her a moment, the way the sunlight played off of her golden red hair, and he felt himself folding. He realized that he did not want her to be angry with him. Like an idiot, he began to retrace his steps.
She wouldn’t look at him when he finally reached her. He stood next to her, his enormous shadow blocking out the sun, watching her as she primly sat and ignored him. After several long moments of being disregarded, he let out a heavy sigh.
“Very well,” he rumbled. “If it means that much to you, then you may go with me.”
She didn’t reply. He waited for some manner of acknowledgement, but none was forthcoming. Wriggling his eyebrows, he turned for the house again.
“Rhys,” she said softly.
He paused and turned to look at her. “What is it?”
She paused before speaking, still staring down the road. “You and I have known each other exactly ten days,” she said quietly. “In that time, you have risked your life for me, protected me, fed me, and taken better care of me than anyone else ever has. And because of that, I have grown rather… fond of you.”
Her reply was completely off the subject and threw him off balance. But her words stirred something in him, something that gripped him with fear and hope. Yet he would not respond to her; he could not. He averted his gaze and stared at the ground, thinking he should probably just walk away but finding himself unable to do so.
Elizabeau turned her eyes to him. He was gazing at the ground, the grass, anything to keep from looking at her. Something inside her swelled and the words came pouring forth.
“You are a kind, decent and chivalrous knight and I have appreciated your dedication to me,” she said. “But during these past few days, I have also come to know something of you as a man. You like to tease me and you’re as stubborn as an ox. And I know you like to laugh at me when I am angry with you; I’ve seen it. You think that I do not know when you are laughing at me, but I do, and it endears you to me all the more. I’ve come to think of you as a friend, Rhys, a very dear friend, someone that I, too, would protect and care for.”
She saw his eyes close tightly, as if to ward off her words, and she was stung. Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes although she knew not why. All she knew was that there was more emotion inside of her at that moment than she had ever experienced in her life. He had to know all of it.
“What I am attempting to say but am inadequately doing so is that I know about your wife and how she treated you, and I am sorry it hurts you when I have spoken of her,” she stood up from the stump, wiping furiously at the tears that spilled over. “I do not mean to hurt you but I feel such a bond with you that somehow I have given myself the right to know all about you on a personal level because that is where my interest lies. You’re such a fine man, Rhys, and you deserve so much better than what life has apparently brought you and I am truly sorry if I have invaded your privacy to satisfy my curiosity. I am sorry that in eleven days I will go to Ogmore Castle and will never see you again because you have shown me more understanding and companionship than I ever knew existed.”
She was shaking by the time she finished her rambling speech. Rhys’s face remained parallel with the ground, but his jaw was ticking furiously. He still had not opened his eyes. The air between them was thick with emotion, anticipation, and after a moment, he let out a heavy sigh.
“It was in the line of duty, my lady. I did what I was ordered to do.”
He might as well have hit her in the gut; it would have caused less pain. She did, in fact, suck in her breath at the impact of his words. Turning swiftly away from him, she plopped back down on the stump and struggled not to sob. She had no idea why she had said all of those things. All she knew was that she had, and he was deeply offended.
They hovered together in silence for the longest time. Birds flew overhead and dogs barked in the distance, but still, they remained silent with each other. Elizabeau’s tears flowed silently, creating dark spots on the top of her pale green surcoat. She made no further move to try and wipe them away; she didn’t want him to see her wipe at her face and know that she was still weeping.
“Let’s go inside,” he said hoarsely. “Come along.”
She shook her head violently and stumbled off the stump. “For Pity’s sake, du Bois, leave me alone,” she hissed, walking unsteadily towards the road. “Go away and leave me be.”
He watched her stagger, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. She had said everything he had been feeling only she had been brave enough to speak it. She had risked all and was now struggling with the result. All he could do was hide behind his sense of duty and blame his knighthood for his chivalrous reserve. But the truth was that he hadn’t the courage to say anything to her. He was afraid that once he opened the door, he would never be able to shut it and it would doom him forever.
He continued to watch her as she came to an uneven halt, standing beside the dir
t road and surrounded by a patch of heavy green clover. She was several feet away, her long torso and feminine curves evident beneath the pale green surcoat. The longer he stood there and looked at her, the more his heart ached.
“Please, Elizabeau,” he pleaded softly. “Come inside with me. We will speak no more of this.”
She shook her head again, her hand to her face. Suddenly, she was bolting off and he ran after her. He caught up with her quickly and grabbed her by both arms. After a violent struggle, she managed to loosen his grip and ended up falling in the wet grass. Her lovely hair, having been pinned behind her head, now hung askew and partially covered her face. He could see the tears dripping off her chin. The sense of knightly professionalism he took such pride in was vanished, his guard shattered. All he could feel was the pain in his heart.
“What would you have me say?” he asked in a strange, raspy tone. “Tell me what you would have me say to all of that?”
She refused to answer and he crouched down, a few feet in front of her. He still couldn’t see her face.
“Then I will say that I am sorry,” he whispered. “I lied to you. I have been doing my duty, aye, but it is more than that. It has been for several days. But it cannot be, Elizabeau, no matter what we feel or how much we feel. You are destined for greatness; I am a mere knight. You are my mission, my lady. That is all you can ever be.”
The sobs broke through and she toppled over in the grass, her hands on her face and pitiful weeping coming forth. Rhys went down on his knees beside her, his great hand stroking her head.
“Christ,” he muttered; he hated to see her so miserable. It was making him miserable. “If for one moment any of this was possible, don’t you think I would take that chance? Don’t you know that I have been thinking the same thoughts as you?”
The hands came away from her face and she looked up at him, her deep green eyes watery and red-rimmed. “Y-you have?” she hiccupped.
He smiled down at her, feeling the softness of her hair against his palm. “Of course I have,” he murmured. “How could I not? You’re sweet and beautiful and you give me joy. You are also compassionate and wise. You will make a very fine queen.”
She stared at him a moment before her face crumpled into sobs again. She suddenly sat up, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him tightly.
“I do not want to be queen,” she sobbed. “I do not want to marry a man I do not know and I do not want to spend the rest of my life fearing assassins and political cutthroats. But more than that, I do not want to go the rest of my life without you. Of all the things that have happened unexpectedly to me over the past several days, you are the most unexpected. And the most heartbreaking.”
He couldn’t help himself now; he enfolded her in his massive arms, pulling her off of the wet grass and onto his thick legs. He ended up sitting on the grass with her on his lap, cradling her as one would cradle a child. She was so sweet and soft and warm against him. His lips were against her forehead when he spoke.
“It is natural that you and I would forge a special bond,” he murmured. “We have shared life and death together. But you must not confuse those feelings with those of love or romance.”
Her head snapped up, the deep green eyes suddenly angry. “Romance, is it?” she struggled to push herself off of his lap. “How dare you suggest that what I expressed to you is fleeting or shallow. I am not an idiot, du Bois. I would not have made such statements without knowing full well the implications.”
He would not let her go, instead, pulling her back down against him. “I did not mean to suggest that you were an idiot,” he soothed her. “But it would be easy to think yourself in love with me when all you really felt was a sense of admiration or misplaced loyalty.”
She yanked herself out of his arms and an open-palm came flying at him. He grabbed her, and the hand that meant to slap him, before either reached their goal. He had a good grip on her as they faced off, brilliant blue against deep, furious green.
“You said you felt the same way,” she spat. “Are you saying that you only feel a sense of admiration or misplaced loyalty?”
He pursed his lips. “Not at all. I know clearly what I am feeling. But I am also a good deal older and wiser than you are.”
“You’re not that much older!”
“I have seen thirty years. You are only eighteen.”
“How do you know that?”
“De Lohr.…”
“… told me,” she finished sarcastically.
He stared at her. Then, his grin made a weak return. “I will tell you this one time and then say no more about it,” he said quietly. “Were it within my power, Elizabeau Treveighan, I would marry you this day and we would live in happiness for the rest of our lives. But it is not within my power, nor is it within yours, so to dwell on such things is a waste of effort for the both of us. You have a great destiny to fulfill and it is my duty to see that you survive long enough to fulfill it. The greater good of England is dependent upon it and we will not disappoint. We are made of stronger things than that.”
She had calmed by this point, her great green eyes studying him intently. “I do not want to be made of stronger things.”
“I know. But you are nonetheless.”
“Will you answer me one question, then?”
“Anything.”
“Do you love me?”
“I would suspect so.”
There had been no hesitation in his answer and it shocked her. Her tears returned; he could see them welling up and spilling over again. He wiped the tears away gently as she struggled with her composure.
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“Then let me hear it once from your lips and I will never ask again.”
“I love you, Elizabeau.”
She ran a finger down his cheek and across his full lips, studying the handsome lines of his face. It would probably be her one and only time to do so, and she did not take it lightly. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I do not know why, or how this has happened, but it has and I am both devastated and ecstatic.”
He closed his eyes tightly, briefly, before refocusing on her. “You have a destiny to fulfill,” he whispered huskily. “You will remember that. We must both remember that.”
He tried to get up but she wouldn’t let him. Her arms were winding their way around his neck, her face looming close to his. Rhys’ heart began thumping against his ribs, knowing what was about to happen but too weak to stop it. He didn’t want to stop it.
“Then kiss me so that I will have something to remember of you, something no one can ever take away from me,” she whispered.
He didn’t hesitate. His lips descended on hers, gently at first, but with increasing ardor. It was the most natural of kisses, one that he had been waiting all of his life to experience. He could taste her sweetness and it made him want for more as his tongue tenderly licked at her before prying her lips open and invading the delicate folds of her mouth. Her tongue was a delicious morsel to suck upon and he did so hungrily, feasting upon her flesh as he had never feasted before. The more he tasted, the more he wanted.
She was back down on the grass, still in his arms, still being ravaged by his mouth. Every suckle, every lick, held unimaginable tenderness and power. Elizabeau could do nothing more than submit; Rhys had control and he used that control to make her feel more deliriously happy than she ever thought possible. She memorized the taste of him, the feel of his lips against hers, knowing the memory would have to sustain her for a lifetime. She suddenly couldn’t bear to part with him. She wanted to know this joy, this passion, for always. Even when he tried to pull up, she refused to let him go.
He kissed her until her lips were swollen and raw. Neither one of them had any concept of time because the passion they felt negated any sense of the moments passing. Rhys knew, as every delicious second ticked away, that he was digging himself deeper and deeper into something that would be horrifically difficult to pull o
ut of. But the more he tasted her, the more he touched her, the more he didn’t care. She consumed him.
A dog barked somewhere close by and he was startled out of his passion. His head came up, the brilliant blue eyes scanning the landscape for both the dog and the reason for his bark. But he saw nothing. Still, it was enough of a pause for him to pull together what remained of his senses. He looked back down at Elizabeau, her luscious hair spread against the damp grass. She gazed up at him with those miraculous green eyes and he felt himself weaken again.
It took a great deal of strength to resist the pull. He pushed himself up onto his knees again and lifted her up next to him.
“Let’s go back into the house,” he said quietly. “Before they come looking for us. Dylan is as curious as a cat and is probably already stalking around looking for me. I should not like them to find us lying in the grass in a less than appropriate position.”
She regained her feet with his help, brushing off her surcoat of the grass and moisture. “What does it matter how they discover us? We’re married, are we not?”
He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “Be that as it may, I still do not want them to find us kissing passionately in the grass. It would be enough for my mother to expect a grandchild in exactly nine months, not to mention the fact that I would spend hours explaining such things to Carys and Dylan. At their age, everything inflames them.”
Elizabeau smiled at him as he helped her from the wet grass. “I know I should be concerned, but I am not. I only care about my feelings for you.”
He sighed quietly, taking her cold hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “And I should probably apologize for my lapse in self-control but it would do no good. I am not sorry in the least.”
She could feel his melancholy as it mingled with her own, now that the haze of their passion was wearing off. “I feel as if I have lived my entire life for that one moment,” she murmured. “Now that it is gone, I do not know what I shall do.”
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