Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

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Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 50

by Madeline Martin


  They had all agreed that this plan would be an advantage over his cousin and the powerful men who backed him and could work in Ralph’s favour. Let them all, especially Stephen, believe that Ralph was still dead.

  Tom was watching him. ‘It was the woman, wasn’t it?’

  Ralph snapped his head up. ‘What?’

  ‘That’s why you couldn’t fight as well you usually do. The woman you gave something to.’ Tom crossed his arms over his chest and raised his brows.

  Damn, but the man was still talking. ‘She’d have to be someone of great importance for you to risk everything you’ve worked so hard for.’

  Ignoring Tom, he strode to the coffer and sloshed ale into a mug, throwing it back in one big gulp before slamming the mug down.

  ‘Oh, no.’ Tom’s eyes widened knowingly before he shook his head. ‘No, no, no! Do not tell me. She’s the woman, isn’t she? Lady Gwenllian ferch Hywel. Christ, Ralph, why didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘Forget it, Tom. It was a lapsed moment, that’s all.’

  ‘You know that it’s a lot more than just a lapsed moment.’

  ‘Think no more about it.’

  ‘What if she finds out about all of this?’ His friend swept his arms dramatically around in every direction. ‘What if she finds out that you’re still alive? That you... What was that?’

  They both froze upon hearing female voices near the tent. Ralph had a very bad feeling about whom one of those voices might belong to.

  One of the ladies spoke just outside the opening of the tent. ‘Apologies, sires, but we were informed that Sir Thomas Lovent is here? If so, my Lady Gwenllian ferch Hywel of Clwyd would like a moment with you, Sir Thomas, if we may be so bold to solicit your company.’

  Tom was shaking his head and mouthing something about this not being part of their bargain before Ralph practically pushed him out of the tent.

  Thank goodness he had gathered his wits in time.

  ‘Ah, Lady Gwenllian, how well you look,’ he heard Tom’s greeting.

  Ralph stood inside the tent, trying to settle his erratic breathing, knowing how much was at stake. Knowing that Gwen stood just outside the tent, mere inches away...

  ‘I am not Lady Gwenllian, sir. This is my mistress,’ the unknown woman exclaimed from the other side of the tent.

  ‘Of course, how remiss of me. But then when one is in the presence of two beauties, it is easy to do so.’

  Of all the asinine things to say. The fact that the silence stretched for a painfully long time confirmed that the women had similar reflections.

  A throat was cleared delicately. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Thomas. I had to see you after you gave this back to me.’

  God’s breath. It had been a long time since he had heard Gwen’s quiet, melodic voice that it sent his heart racing.

  ‘Am I right in assuming that you knew Sir Ralph de Kinnerton?’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  ‘And he...he gave you the ribbon?’

  Ralph’s heart thumped wildly in his chest.

  ‘Yes, that is...he did.’

  ‘I see.’ Her voice was almost a whisper.

  ‘What is it that you would like to know, Lady Gwenllian?’

  ‘Everything.’

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘Yes. Anything that you can remember about how...? About the circumstances in which...what happened when Ralph...?’

  Tom’s voice gentled. ‘All I can say is that my friend is...was as noble and honourable as you last remembered him to be.’

  Gwen hesitated before continuing. ‘That is the issue, sir. We did not part on good terms.’

  ‘Well, that is a surprise for he spoke warmly about you. I should say excessively warmly.’

  Ralph’s jaw clenched. Yes, he was definitely going to kill him.

  ‘I am glad, Sir Thomas, as there were things said that should never have been said.’

  There was something in Gwen’s voice that caught. Could it be regret at how things had been left between them? Ralph was not certain, but there was a melancholy in Gwen, that he could not comprehend. Mayhap in the confusion in the aftermath of his father’s death and the grab for Kinnerton, all might not have been as it seemed. But how this could be? After all, it was she who had insisted on staying behind six years ago, when he had been forced to flee Kinnerton.

  ‘My lady, please do not distress yourself.’

  ‘I am not, sir. I just need to know, whether...had Ralph...had he asked you to return the ribbon to me, before he...he...?’

  ‘Yes, Lady Gwenllian, he had.’

  ‘But why, Sir Thomas?’

  That was a fair question and one that Ralph felt reluctant to examine. Even now, he could recall how her eyes had lit up when she had described the process in creating such a small, yet thoughtful token. How she had dyed the wool and woven the yarn before embroidering their entwined initials. Mayhap it was that—knowing the ribbon had been made and given with a love that no longer existed, that he wasn’t sure ever existed—that prompted him to accept the blatant truth. That he no longer wanted it.

  Seeing her again after all this time reminded him that he should no longer hang on to her gift. It reminded him that he could no longer claim such sentiments...or claim her love. Not that her love had been what he’d believed it to be, since her friendship to him had been borne out of a deep sense of duty. Nothing more.

  It mattered not, after all this time. But it could explain why he had acted so recklessly on this day.

  ‘Tell me, Sir Thomas. Please.’ Her voice sounded so small that he almost reached for her. Instead, he fought the innate need to comfort this woman as he once had. That would be a very bad idea. She meant nothing to him now.

  He’d already compromised himself when he had given back the ribbon and look where that had got him. She had come here...asking questions about a past that should be long buried.

  ‘What message had Ralph wanted to convey to me? Was he despondent, sad, reconciled to his circumstance or...or still angry?’

  Yes... Ralph was still so angry and he’d die a thousand times before being reconciled to anything that happened six years ago. The pain was as palpable now as it had been back then, when he had been betrayed by everyone in Kinnerton, including the woman on the other side of the tent. And hers was the betrayal that had hurt the most.

  ‘My lady, this area is reserved for soldiers, knights and their squires—men engaged in this tournament. It is not a place for a lady and certainly not for us to engage in such a conversation.’

  ‘He must have said something to you?’

  ‘Ralph said many things.’

  ‘Be assured, sir, that whatever that may be, I am well versed in receiving unpleasant revelations.’

  ‘Then allow me to say that I have no desire to deliver any such unpleasantness, my lady. And nor do I have to, thankfully. But this is not, however, the place for these discussions. You should not be here.’

  ‘That is what I keep saying to Gwenllian,’ the other woman said.

  ‘Then you give good counsel, mistress. We can continue with these discussions later when I hope to satisfy your curiosity, Lady Gwenllian.’

  There was a moment of silence before Ralph heard Gwen’s response.

  ‘Very well then, I hope to see you in the hall later for the evening meal, after Vespers.’

  ‘I cannot promise anything, my lady, but I shall try to meet you then.’

  ‘Then that’s the best I can hope for, sir.’

  Ralph could not hear Tom answer, but heard Gwen’s voice again. ‘But before I go, how did you know it was me?’

  ‘My lady?’

  ‘How did you know to give the ribbon to me, Sir Thomas.’

  ‘Ah, well...that would be from Ralph’s vivid descriptions. And I was not mista
ken, Lady Gwenllian. I...er...knew it was you.’

  ‘I see. Until later, Sir Thomas.’

  Ralph expelled a breath he had been holding before pulling a hood over his head and waited for a long moment, making sure the women had taken their leave before he ventured out of the tent to stand beside his friend. ‘My thanks, I’m indebted to you.’

  Tom shook his head as they both watched the retreating figures of the two women. ‘Yes, but never fear, I’ll be tallying everything you owe me.’

  ‘Good to know.’

  They both stood silently before Tom nodded in the direction of Gwen and her companion. ‘You made a mistake there, Ralph.’

  ‘So it would seem.’

  ‘A mistake that might prove to have much wider implications. What if she realises that you’re still alive?’

  ‘I know. I should have thought before I acted.’

  ‘You should have. She might be married. What if her husband hears of this?’

  Ralph still wasn’t certain what he had been thinking when he had approached Gwen. Not with everything at stake. He could not afford to dwell on Gwenllian ferch Hywel of Clwyd. Had he not welcomed the cold nothingness that had lodged itself in his heart since she had told him to leave without her six years ago? Yes, and it would do him no good to reopen up those old wounds.

  He gave his head a shake. ‘Come, I can see Will Geraint heading this way, no doubt to reprimand me for my other mistakes.’

  He absently rubbed the rough distorted skin of his jaw, trying to relieve the tight tension. This day was going from bad to worse.

  * * *

  Later, as the day came to a close, Ralph stayed back in the open fields, relentlessly practising the techniques that had earlier deserted him during the opening exhibition in front of the young King and the Marcher Earls. He lifted his sword in different directions, tilting it in various angles and swiping it around his body as he circled a non-existent opponent. Over and over again.

  Ralph could not lose sight of everything he had worked so hard for, all because he had set eyes on a woman who had once meant a great deal to him.

  Not only had he made himself look bad in front of the men who had helped and believed in his mission, but Ralph had left himself exposed to Gwen’s curiosity after he’d given the ribbon back to her. Tom had been right—she was probably married after all this time and was not worth these reflections.

  Ralph wasn’t even sure why it had been so imperative to give that blasted ribbon back. Only it had.

  Seeing Gwen again had brought everything to the fore—the loss of his father who had always been critical of him, the betrayal of his obsequious cousin, who’d turned on him so swiftly that it had made his head spin. And finally, Gwen herself, who had made it clear that she was staying behind.

  She had always been so sensible, prudent and practical. Even that last time they had spoken in the woods. Gwen had explained her duty—to be the next Lady of Kinnerton, no matter who its lord might be. She had urged Ralph to run away and save himself. And like a coward he eventually gave in and left without her, hurt and confused that she would choose her obligation over him. That she had closed herself off to the love they’d shared. It had been like a dagger struck into his heart, a final blow following the madness in the aftermath of his father’s death, leaving just a dark, hollow emptiness in his heart.

  No more. He was now a different man to the one he had been back then and he could not lose sight of what was important here. He had to stop thinking about the past and look to the future. A future that could only be his if he was determined, resilient and focused enough.

  Tom approached him, ‘Come, let’s retire to the castle and get some much-needed food. It will be quite the feast with King Henry in attendance.’

  Ralph lifted his head and shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

  ‘Ah, so you have reconsidered everything to do with Lady Gwenllian.’

  ‘Yes, I do understand the need for caution.’

  ‘If only you had thought of that before, my friend.’

  ‘I do realise that.’ Ralph sighed in exasperation. ‘But I can rectify that now, by keeping away and avoiding her altogether.’

  ‘And I suppose that would also include our absence from the hall tonight?’

  Ralph nodded as he turned to his friend and placed his sword back in its scabbard. ‘I’ve imposed much on you, Tom.’

  ‘You have.’ Tom smiled wryly. ‘But I’m sure I’ll live, without the good wine, delicious food and convivial company that I would surely enjoy. Who needs that anyway?’

  ‘Who, indeed?’ He nodded at him. ‘My thanks, Tom. You’re a good friend.’

  His smile stretched to a grin. ‘I know.’

  * * *

  The following day, despite their best endeavours to keep a low profile, Lady Gwenllian sought out Sir Thomas anyway. They were in an area, used by knights to practise with their various weaponry which they intended to use in the mêlées and tourneys. Here, the many Lords and their retinues were segregated by the tents dotted in between, but it was still a good a place to observe the competition and find possible weaknesses.

  What it was not, however, was a place for a beautiful young woman like Gwenllian to be walking in with just her maid or companion, who was of a similar age. He could see the men’s heads turn as the women strode in their direction.

  Ralph pulled the rough edge of the hood of his cloak so that it draped over his head, keeping it bent low. ‘Don’t look now, but Gwenllian is here and heading this way.’

  Tom groaned as he peeked over his shoulder at them. ‘Oh, God, has the woman no sense at all?’

  Ralph flicked a glance at her as she quickened her pace towards them, her head held high, the cream veil covering her head flowing softly behind her. ‘Gwenllian has imminently more sense than you, my friend.’

  ‘One would never know judging by this conduct.’

  Ralph’s heart pounded in his chest as she sidled next to Tom, with her female companion in tow.

  ‘Greetings, my lady,’ Tom said as Ralph kept his head down, staring at the ground.

  ‘Sir Thomas.’

  ‘And to what do I owe this pleasure?’

  ‘Once again you find me seeking you in what you would, probably, consider an inappropriate place for me to be seen,’ she said in a clipped tone.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Lady Gwenllian.’

  ‘You left me with little choice since you did not come to the hall yesterday evening, sir.’

  ‘Ah... I can only apologise, my lady but I had much to attend to after a very poor spectacle in the exhibition event yesterday. In fact, I must beg to leave now, as I have to meet my Lord de Clancey.’

  Tom began to move away with Ralph following him.

  ‘Wait, sir, and hear me out,’ she said in exasperation. ‘I do understand the importance of a tournament such as this. Especially for a knight bent on making his fortune, Sir Thomas, but forgive me, sir, it was you who sought me yesterday. Or have you forgotten?’

  ‘Yes, my lady. I suppose I did.’

  ‘And I mean to find out why, sir.’

  ‘My lady, I cannot say the reason to...’

  ‘Please... Sir Thomas. I do not mean to intrude on your time, but if you would only give me your word that I would have the pleasure of your company in the hall this evening, with the promise that our discourse shall be brief... I shall not importune you any further.’

  Tom didn’t answer at first, but eventually Ralph heard him reply in resignation, ‘Very well, my lady. Until this evening.’

  Ralph then heard the soft footsteps of the women as they walked away. He lifted his head and pulled his hood down, rubbing his jaw. ‘Well, then. So much for avoiding Gwenllian ferch Hywel.’

  * * *

  Gwen looked around the busy hall of Pu
lverbatch Castle—a castle that was familiar to her from when she lived at Kinnerton. Although, if memory served, it had always been usually uninhabited.

  Yet, for the purposes of this tournament, the Earls of Chester and Hereford had jointly agreed to host the festivities here for the first time ever.

  A makeshift solar with numerous chambers had been arranged for King Henry and his royal party, with bedchambers arranged for the women, in the keep, with a constant guard at the entrance to the stone, spiral staircase to hold out any unwanted attentions from unscrupulous knights.

  Gwen’s eyes darted around the noisy, chatty room as people gorged and indulged themselves with the plentiful offerings of the evening feast. At the far end, the young King sat on the dais, looking bored, flanked by his guards and the two hosting Earls. The women sat demurely around the periphery in one corner, lending the banquet a semblance of formality, as Lords sat with their entourage of knights in small clusters around the hall.

  ‘Thomas Lovent said he’d be here.’ Gwen sipped ale from a mug as she continued to glance around the room.

  ‘Be patient, Gwen, he did say he would come tonight.’ Brida stabbed a piece of mutton with her knife and placed it on her pewter plate, spooning some of the accompanying sauce over the top.

  Patience?

  Patience was something she’d always be relied on to have in huge abundance. Not out of choice but of necessity. And on this particular night Gwen felt a certain inexplicable restlessness. She needed to know everything that had happened to Ralph, even though she feared it might be upsetting. She yearned to know that there was nothing she could have done to prevent it, though she knew that by letting him leave that night she’d done plenty to ensure his demise. Losing her appetite, she pushed her plate away.

 

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