‘I don’t think anyone has stirred.’ Tom frowned. ‘Do you want me to take aim?’
‘No, I’ll try once more.’ Ralph crept out and threw a handful of pebbles, one after the other, against the shutter, each one hitting with striking accuracy before he took cover beside Tom. Both men peered from behind the shrubs, but again there was no response. It seemed that no one within the chamber was inquisitive enough to find out the cause of who or what was persistently knocking against the window shutters at this late hour.
‘Allow me.’ Tom crawled out to stand and was about to take aim with the small stone clutched between his fingers above his head. Just then the wooden shutters jerked before folding out to open.
They saw Gwen’s companion stick her head out of the arched window and look in every direction before she spotted Tom below, who had frozen in place, mid-throw.
‘What is the meaning of this, Sir Thomas?’ She scowled. ‘My lady has retired for the evening and doesn’t wish to be disturbed.’
‘A thousand pardons, Mistress Brida, but we needed to...as in I have ventured to...to...’
‘Yes? To do what exactly, sir?’
Tom took a step back towards the shrub. ‘What shall I tell this prickly woman?’ he whispered from the side of his mouth.
‘Ask after Gwen, since we...as in you...have not seen her today,’ Ralph replied in hushed tones.
‘I wanted to enquire after Lady Gwenllian’s health, since I must have missed her today,’ Tom said to the woman. ‘I thought the whole purpose of tonight was for you to reveal yourself,’ he hissed to Ralph, still cowering behind the lush foliage.
‘Yes, but she is not the one at the window.’
Tom pasted his most devastating smile and looked up. ‘Could I trouble you, mistress to ask whether I may have a word or two with Lady Gwenllian.’
‘You may, sir, but...er...sadly my mistress is indisposed. She does, however, thank you for your concern.’
The first rumblings of thunder could be heard overhead. ‘What is it? Is Gwen unwell?’ Ralph asked under his breath as he pushed down the branch to take a better look.
Tom flicked his hand behind, in a gesture that warned Ralph to stay back where he was hidden. ‘I hope Lady Gwenllian is in good health?’ he asked on his behalf, instead.
‘Yes, sir, she is,’ came the terse reply from the window. ‘But my lady is not inclined to, ah...see anyone this evening.’
‘Would there be a time she can see me, otherwise? Tomorrow, perchance, after the evening feast.’
‘What are you doing?’ Ralph hissed.
‘Arranging a proper rendezvous for you with her,’ he whispered from the corner of his mouth.
‘Hell’s teeth, Tom,’ he spat, the needles of the shrub digging into his skin ‘This is no jesting matter.’
‘Did I say it was? But it seems unlikely that you are going to get past Lady Gwenllian’s angry termagant tonight.’
‘Mayhap I should come out.’
‘Mayhap you should allow me to arrange this properly, rather than give the poor lady the fright of her life.’
* * *
Gwen paced inside the small chamber and snapped her head up. ‘What is it that the man wants, Brida?’
The chamber was lit by only the last embers of the fire and the light of the pale moon outside, which was rapidly being veiled by dark clouds.
‘Sir Thomas Lovent wants to meet you again.’ Brida turned her head around and raised her brows. ‘But I cannot understand why.’
Neither could Gwen. Yet, there was much she still didn’t understand about what had happened to Ralph de Kinnerton or the disconcerting manner in which his friend had given his ribbon back to her. And she could not shake the feeling that things were not all as they seemed. ‘Could you ask Sir Thomas for his reason?’
‘Certainly, but if I may, my advice is to be wary of the man.’
Gwen’s fingers traced the edge of the coffer absently. ‘Oh, and why is that?’
Her friend let out an irritated breath. ‘All he’s done since you met him is to drag up the past and upset you.’
‘But I believe that sometimes it’s a good thing to have the past dragged up, Brida. To be able to move forward, you have to be able to let go of the past.
‘But to what end?’ Her friend scowled.
‘So that it can allow me to accept what happened to Ralph, somehow.’ Gwen sat on the edge of the pallet bed. ‘If that is in any way possible, then it can only be worthwhile. Do you not see?’
‘Mistress? Would Lady Gwenllian meet me tomorrow?’ Sir Thomas’s muffled voice said from somewhere outside. ‘Only it has started to rain...and it looks to become more persistent.’
‘My lady wishes to know why you need to meet her again, sir.’ Brida lowered her voice even more, so that only Gwen would hear. ‘And for the sky to open and the rain to drench you to the bone.’
A corner of Gwen’s lips curved. ‘Does Sir Thomas bother you?’
‘He smiles too much.’ Her friend snapped her head around in exasperation. ‘And my mother always warned me of men who had a propensity to do that.’
Gwen burst out laughing for the first time for as long as she could remember. A welcome short reprieve, as it had been a particularly miserable day, which accounted for the reasons why she had wanted to be alone. And why she had been crying for much of it.
Meeting Ralph’s friend had once again brought back everything that had happened between them. Brida had been right about that. Gwen had been upset ever since she had come back to this part of England and spoken to Sir Thomas, whose friendly eyes and easy smiles she was certain hid more than he was willing to say.
Yet, it somehow eased something inside her to be able to talk about Ralph with someone else who had also known him. Perhaps the more Sir Thomas explained about the life Ralph had led, after he had left Kinnerton under a cloud of danger and uncertainty, the more comfort she might possibly gain. Especially in the knowledge that he had not always been alone, that he has friends such as the man standing below in the rain.
Gwen inhaled deeply. ‘Tell him that I shall meet him.’
If Sir Thomas needed to disclose more than he already had, then she would agree to hear him. One last time.
* * *
The following evening after the feast, Gwen scurried out of the hall. Tugging the wide hood of her long, grey, woollen cloak over her head, she strode out of the inner bailey, with Brida beside her, as a few bemused guards looked on. Other than looking them up and down, they didn’t approach them, thankfully.
‘I’m going to die of mortification, Gwen. They think we’re women of the night.’
‘Never mind that. Come along. It would be best not to give them a reason to stop us from leaving the castle.’
Huddling close to one another, the two women rushed through the gatehouse and along the path that circled around the castle, which eventually brought them to the edge of the nearby woodland. Here, as promised and sheltered beneath a tree, Gwen could just make out the silhouette of Sir Thomas, waiting patiently for them. They continued along the path until they approached him.
‘Good evening, my lady.’ He inclined his head. ‘Mistress Brida.’
Her friend gave him a curt, dismissive nod as Gwen shuddered, realising that they were completely alone in the dead of night with this man. She hoped that she could trust him.
‘Good evening to you, Sir Thomas. I hope you have not been waiting long?’
‘Not at all, Lady Gwenllian.’
‘Well then...here we are.’ She swallowed. ‘What was it that you wished to say to me?’
‘Ah, as to that. I’m afraid I have drawn you here under false appearances.’
Her heart sank as she exchanged a quick look of concern with Brida. Had she been mistaken about this man? Other than being Ralph’s friend he was, af
ter all, a total stranger. ‘Explain yourself, sir, and note we have not come unarmed.’
He held up his hands and looked solemn when she had expected his mirth. ‘No, you misunderstand, my lady, it is not I who wish to meet you, but someone entirely different.’
‘What do you mean?’ She scowled, narrowing her eyes. ‘You are talking in riddles, sir.’
He inclined his head towards the entrance of the woods. ‘The man who wishes to meet with you is there, within, waiting for you. If you take that path and follow it around, you will eventually reach...’
‘The big oak tree...’ she said slowly. ‘Every path leads to that old tree. I used to come here a long time ago with...with...’ She suddenly snapped her head up and gave Sir Thomas a withering look. Was this some kind of distasteful jest?
‘What is the meaning of this?’ She felt like punching the man. ‘Is this a trick?’
‘A trick?’ Of course not.’ He sighed. ‘It’s not a trick, or a riddle, or a miracle either.’
Gwen rubbed her forehead feeling suddenly weary. ‘What are you trying to tell me, Sir Thomas?’
‘Please, my lady. All shall be explained when you enter the woods...alone.’
Gwen could sense that Brida was about to object to his proposal, but something about this situation beguiled her more than she could say—more than it really should. It beckoned her forth as though it were pulling her by an invisible thread.
‘Very well, I’ll go.’ Gwen lifted her head as Brida stepped forward to follow. ‘On my own.’
‘But, my Lady Gwenllian...?’
‘Thank you for your concern, Brida. But I believe I shall be safe venturing here on my own. I am acquainted with this surrounding area after all.’
She took a deep breath and stepped tentatively into the unknown. She looked back behind her occasionally, knowing she could always run back, if she needed to. She walked along the damp sloping path, flanked by the dense copse and towering trees on either side. The air was heavy with a clammy stickiness and eerily silent apart from her thumping heartbeat and her rampant breathing.
The only light came from the incandescent moon, dancing on the leaves, illuminating her way to the tree.
Their tree...
She wondered whether she could still trace her fingers along the ridged, rough tree trunk and find their names—hers and Ralph’s carved into the bark from another lifetime.
Gwen had never done anything impulsive and certainly not without good reason. Yet something had been bothering her since the moment Ralph’s ribbon had been returned to her. Something that did not quite tally up.
Either way, she hoped to gain some understanding. Not that she could discern what that could be in these woods. Gwen did not even know who she was supposed to be meeting here. Possibly another friend or associate of Ralph’s who might explain more to her, so that Gwen could finally close that painful part of her life.
Yet this was nothing new. Gwen had lived and lost before. First her mother, then her sweet, little sister who had lived no more than four short years. Her older brother perished a few years later and finally her beloved father followed suit.
All gone.
Before Gwen knew what had happened, she had been bundled away to live in Kinnerton, in England—a foreign land whose heir she was one day to marry. Gwen had only been a young girl, but that didn’t matter, not when arrangements had been made by her desperately ill father and the ambitious Marcher Lord of Kinnerton. She was a pawn to be used for an important and strategic alliance.
But then something remarkably unexpectant happened. Something that managed to banish the hollow pain from the loss of her father...
Gwen found a friend in the young Ralph de Kinnerton.
A friend who would come to mean more to her than anyone had before. A shy, young reticent boy who was teased mercilessly for not being good enough, not being tall enough, man enough or even strong enough. But he was or rather he had been. He had been enough...for her.
Once again, however, the cruel hand of fate had dealt her a devastating blow as Ralph had also perished.
That elusive happiness was, somehow, always out of her reach and never to be hers. Now she no longer looked for it or even expected it. All she wanted was some semblance of peace in her solitude.
Gwen lifted her head and her breath caught in her throat.
There it was, the magnificent, sprawling, ancient tree. She blinked and adjusted her eyes more to the darkness, looking around to see who it was that she was supposed to meet, but there was no one.
So she waited...and waited. And waited some more.
But then she felt it. That strange feeling creeping up her arm, warning her that she was no longer alone. She swallowed, nervously.
‘Who goes there?’ She bit her bottom lip and let out a nervous breath. ‘Show yourself. I know you are there.’
Again nothing, yet she felt that presence as if it were sliding down her body.
Then someone did speak.
‘It’s me, Gwen... It’s Ralph.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Gwen felt as though every drop of blood had drained from her body. The world seemed to spin around her as she leant back against the trunk of the tree, her fingers digging in, seeking some sort of support. Her breathing became laboured. Her head was in a state of confusion. It could not be true, could it?
She closed her eyes tightly in an attempt to test whether this might be a dream, her imagination playing tricks on her. After all, she was here again by this magnificent tree, with echoes of her past all around her. Could she have conjured up something she wanted to be true?
‘Lady Gwenllian?’
Seemingly she had not. The voice that carried in the soft breeze did appear to be one that resembled Ralph’s. Only it rumbled a lot lower, a lot deeper and belonged to a man.
Yes, it seemed very real.
Oh, God! Her knees felt as though they might buckle beneath her.
He was filling in the silence as he continued to explain. ‘I did not mean to distress you. I know this must come as a huge surprise but...it became imperative that I tell you about this, myself.’
Gwen still could not find her voice as her head swirled around, trying to comprehend this new discovery.
‘Is it really you?’ she whispered.
‘It is. Yes.’
‘I... I can’t believe this. It seems so unreal.’
‘Nevertheless, it’s the truth, my lady.’
He sounded so formal. So distant, yet somewhere close by.
‘Where...where are you?’ she stammered as she opened her eyes and looked in every direction.
‘That is of no consequence. All you need to know—all that is important—is that you need not concern yourself about me. Not any longer. I am hale. I am alive. And, thank God, in one piece.’
That was all she needed to know.
The man talking might have sounded like Ralph, but his words were so unlike anything the boy she once knew would ever utter.
‘Where are you?’ she repeated, but was soundly ignored as Ralph continued with his speech. He seemed to be in a hurry to finish whatever he needed to say.
‘The truth is that, after I saw you for the first time in so many years, I felt compelled to give you back your ribbon. But I then realised you also had a right to know the truth about me.’
‘You!’ Her brows shot up. ‘You gave me back the ribbon?’
‘I did.’
She frowned. ‘But I thought... I thought that that was Sir Thomas Lovent.’
‘You were meant to think that, Gwen.’
Oh, God, mayhap she was still dreaming. She edged away from the tree and frantically stumbled from one direction to the next, trying to locate where the voice was coming from.
‘Why would you need to pretend to be another knight?’
&nbs
p; ‘It’s best that you do not know that,’ the voice murmured.
‘Why would you not correct the assumption that you are dead?’
‘You do not need to know that either.’
‘I see that there’s much I cannot be privy to,’ Gwen bit out.
‘Just so, my lady. It is for the best, believe me.’
Gwen frowned in confusion. Believe him?
She had a sudden impulse to laugh, scream or cry, whichever came first. Here was this man proclaiming to be Ralph de Kinnerton, presumed dead and actively courting danger by pretending to be someone he was not, with the added issue of his devious cousin also being present at this tournament. But far, far more than that was the way her heart was tumbling over itself from this incredible disclosure. Ralph de Kinnerton was alive and hale from all accounts. And somehow among the obvious joy that arose from this possibility was the sadness and hurt from everything that had happened between them in the past. In particular, how they had said so many harsh untruths before they parted ways that awful night in the woods outside Kinnerton. And with this, the bitter memory and subsequent guilt after learning of Ralph’s demise. But that demise was not so, apparently.
Gwen moved slowly around the tree, chasing the shadow, hoping in vain to catch something more tangible...something that could confirm that he was real and much more than just a rumbling voice that rippled through her. Yet, each time she felt close to finding him, the shadow would shift and disappear.
‘Why will you not show yourself to me?’
‘It is better this way.’
Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 52