Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Madeline Martin

  ‘I would wonder what a woman like Gwen would truly think about that scarred ugly skin of yours, when one considers the glorious smoothness of her own,’ Stephen sneered. ‘And lord knows how I explored that creamy soft suppleness myself.’ He chuckled. ‘Did she ever tell you about that, Ralph? Did she tell you about how I gave her the most inexplicable carnal pleasures—as she also gave to me? Oh, I can still recall her little sighs and moans of delight as we explored one another. That and the way she looked in our moment of intimacy.’

  The sudden ringing in Ralph’s head became more and more constant and relentless. He knew he should not rise to the man’s taunts, they were just untruths, but it was increasingly difficult to do. He did not want to imagine his cousin’s filthy hands anywhere near Gwen, but the fact remained that the man had touched her. He had defiled her.

  Stephen le Gros had broken an oath that should have been sacrosanct as a knight, when he preyed on someone who was not in the position to fight back and had not sought his attentions. His cousin had behaved with depravity when he had frightened Gwen into doing things against her will.

  God’s blood, but he had to be punished.

  Ralph felt the anger quickly flare and disperse through his veins, hot, blazing and fierce, pumping through his blood. He wanted to roar and rage at Stephen, but he knew he had to temper his anger in the way that would be conducive in this combat. In the very manner that William Geraint and Hugh de Villers had ground into him.

  Ralph took a deep breath as he took a step back and squared his shoulders. His eyes narrowed on his opponent, knowing that Stephen was about to come at him with another set of attacking thrusts and strikes. But his cousin was a little slower than he had been at the beginning. Ralph’s plan to allow Stephen to go on the continual attack was beginning to yield, since he could feel the tiredness emerge in the man’s strokes.

  It was his moment to take Stephen on swiftly. Ralph led his cousin into a false sense of believing that he now had the better of him. But it was time to show him otherwise.

  He thrust forward on the attack, but was blocked by Stephen.

  ‘Come on, my young cousin, is this all that you possess?’ he barked. ‘Is this all you can do?’

  Ralph took a few steps back as his opponent lunged forward and, just as he did so, Ralph swung around to the side and completed the feint by using a fluid parrying strike that took Stephen totally by surprise. The man stumbled and fell back on to the grassy plain, his jaw widening at the expediency of his defeat as he looked up to see the tip of Ralph’s sword pointing at him.

  ‘No, I believe this is!’ Ralph retorted on a deep breath, with a faint smile on his lips. ‘I believe you have lost, Stephen.’ He kicked his sword away from him and picked it up.

  Ralph breathed a huge sigh of relief as his cousin was for once speechless, confounded and seemingly unable to comprehend what had just transpired.

  It was over, thank God. Ralph was victorious. He had triumphed over his terrible adversary in a resounding manner. The dull noise of cheering enveloped him as he gave the defeated man one last glance before striding back towards the royal spectator stands, with many now on their feet.

  Yet it seemed there was to be one last stand. Ralph’s innate instinct kept peril at bay as he sensed a sudden footfall behind him. He quickly swung around to find Stephen running at him with a dagger, his face contorted into savage viciousness. Ralph stood with his legs apart and waited until the man was close before he bent his knee and swung his feet around, taking Stephen’s legs from under him and tripping him up. Once again, the man was thrown to the ground.

  ‘You have lost, Stephen.’ Ralph looked down at his cousin as he removed his dagger from his hands. ‘And you are beginning to look very foolish in front of King Henry and the Marcher Earls.’

  ‘I cannot let this happen,’ the man said through gritted teeth.

  ‘But you have little choice.’ He gave him an implacable smile. ‘Concede, Stephen, concede with some semblance of graciousness and dignity.’

  ‘That would be convenient after everything that has happened,’ he spat. ‘You have taken everything from me—Kinnerton, even Gwenllian!’

  ‘You never understood, did you?’ He shook his head in disgust as he leant forward. ‘They were never yours to begin with, Stephen.’

  With that Ralph marched off, unable to spare another moment with the man who had caused him so much grief and misfortune.

  Yes, it was finally over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Gwen stood up clapping, tears streaming down her face, as she watched Ralph stride with purpose back towards the royal party. After many, many long years and after so much pain and hardship, Ralph de Kinnerton was finally vindicated. He had triumphed over his deplorable cousin and in front of the King and the Marcher Earls and Lords, casting any last shred of doubt about his abilities as a warrior lord away.

  She felt her heart might burst from her chest as she dwelled on Ralph’s decisive, emphatic win. She was so proud of him. Isabel turned to her and gave her a huge hug as William Tallany jumped up and down beside her.

  Gwen watched as Ralph knelt in front of King Henry, who stepped down from the dais followed by the Earls of Chester and Hereford. He declared Ralph champion and, as the new Lord of Kinnerton, handed him a scroll with the royal stamp and then placed the ring of the Lords of Kinnerton back on Ralph’s finger. A befitting ceremony would later be sanctified and legitimised in church, but this felt somehow more symbolic.

  Before long they were once again cheering Ralph as Lords de Clancey and Tallany, as well as Sir Thomas, greeted and congratulated Ralph personally. Gwen followed the women down from the dais to extend her congratulations. She watched in amusement as Ralph threw a delighted William Tallany in the air before sitting him on his shoulders, the little boy’s legs dangling either side of his neck. She took a tentative step forward, suddenly feeling a little shy and self-conscious in front of so many people.

  Ralph caught her gaze and grinned, the warmth of his smile extending to his eyes, making her stomach flip over itself. Nothing, not even his visible scars, could ever diminish his vitality and spirit. Ralph de Kinnerton was an extraordinary man to come through the enormous trials that he had. She returned his smile, giving him a quick hug and muttering words of congratulations. He gave her another penetrating look and opened his mouth, about to say something, before some other person vied for his attention. Yes, there would be many who would seek his attention now that he had taken his rightful place as the Lord of Kinnerton.

  Her heart swelled with love for him. But it was precisely the very fact that she loved Ralph de Kinnerton that prevented Gwen from taking any step to be by his side. Stephen le Gros might have been defeated, his threat finally quashed, but he would always somehow come between them. She was pragmatic and realistic enough to know that. She sighed as she quietly slipped away from the area, allowing room for others wanting to pay homage to Ralph. She would be in the way as many people clamoured to see him.

  Lost in her own musings, Gwen found herself in a quiet area between the castle and the open fields of the tournament as she meandered back. She picked up her pace, sensing that she was being followed. Yet every time she turned around and darted her gaze in every direction, there was no one anywhere near her. It was likely to be her imaginings, though she now wished she had been a little more prudent and not so hasty to get back to her chamber on her own. She should have at least said something to Brida or Lady Isabel, but the need for quiet reflection had suddenly overwhelmed her.

  The leaves on trees that lined the path to the castle whistled in the breeze as Gwen reached the castle gatehouse. She exhaled slowly through her teeth. Her head dropped as she rubbed her forehead, relief flooding her veins. It was quite a ridiculous reaction when she considered how wonderful this day had turned out to be. But she was too premature as she was yanked violently by the arm as she
stepped outside the stone gatehouse. She was pulled down a narrow, deserted pathway with a hand harshly covering her mouth.

  ‘I want you to be very, very quiet, my dear.’ It was Stephen le Gros’s voice from somewhere close behind her. He was clasping her arm with such ferocity she could feel his fingernails digging into her flesh.

  ‘I want you to listen very carefully to me, do you hear?’ His face loomed from behind and was too close for comfort. ‘I shall let go of my hand, but only if you agree to my conditions. We shall walk together, quietly but very efficiently, and leave this damn castle. We shall then mount my horse and get away from this infernal place. Otherwise, I am afraid I shall have no choice other than to use this.’ She could feel the tip of some sharp weaponry against her back.

  Stephen’s own unique scent enveloped her senses, making Gwen want to retch. Her stomach recoiled from his very touch. But she had to think quickly. She acquiesced to his demands by nodding her head, as he pushed her back in the direction of the gatehouse.

  She made a muffled noise from beneath his sweaty palm grasping her tightly.

  ‘Oh, no, my sweet, not yet.’ He trailed his lips along the side of her face, making her want to pull away. ‘You see, I could not allow him to take you from me. You belong to me, Gwenllian. Never forget that.’

  They rounded the corner and, before she knew what had happened, a strong, tightly coiled arm swung out and smashed his elbow in Stephen’s face with astonishing accuracy. She was pulled and lifted away from the man and deposited behind another, by Ralph, who was now standing and pointing Stephen le Gros’s own dagger at him, having retrieved it from the ground.

  ‘You broke my nose! You broke my nose,’ Stephen whimpered.

  ‘You are lucky that I did not break more than your damn nose!’ Ralph thundered.

  Gwen blinked, wondering whether she had ever seen Ralph de Kinnerton in such a blaze of fury. He looked as though he was just about hanging on to his temper by a thread.

  ‘Are you all right, Gwen?’ he asked slowly, his eyes still fixed on his cousin who had fallen to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose.

  ‘Yes, I am well. Thank you.’

  ‘Good.’ Ralph bent down and grabbed Stephen by the scruff of his tunic and pulled him to his feet, the sharp tip of his dagger against his neck as the other man visibly sagged and squirmed. ‘Now what should I do about you, Stephen? Tell me whether anyone would truly mind if you wound up dead in some ditch nearby?’

  Gwen gasped from behind, detecting the palpable anger that Ralph was finding difficult to restrain. Slowly but surely the rage from within him seemed to be unravelling.

  ‘No,’ she said softly, placing her hand on Ralph’s sleeve. ‘Stephen is not worth your troubles.’

  ‘You know as well as I what this bastard has done in the past and what he was about to do again.’

  ‘Yes, but it is over, thank God,’ she muttered. ‘Do not allow Stephen to get locked inside your head. If you end his life, now, in this way, then it will become a stain on your conscience. You do not need to do that, Ralph.’

  ‘But he tried to hurt and take advantage of you again.’

  ‘And because of you he did not succeed.’

  Indeed, she finally felt free of the wretched man—of his threats, manipulations and intimidations, which in truth exposed him to be weak and deficient. Gwen realised then that she need never be fearful of Stephen le Gros again.

  Ralph dragged his cousin along the pathway and dumped him on the ground.

  ‘Listen to me, you vile, pathetic bully.’ He scowled. ‘I shall escort you to the gatehouse and out of this castle where you will leave for good and never return. I never want to set eyes on you again. If you come anywhere near here, Kinnerton or especially Gwen ever again, I shall kill you. It is that simple. Do we understand each other?’

  Stephen gave a single nod as Ralph continued to drag him back to the entrance of the castle. He pushed him through the gatehouse and ensured that the man mounted his horse and left with just his accompanying squire who had been waiting patiently for him.

  Incredibly they both stood side by side as they saw the last of Stephen le Gros, without his usual loyal supporters propping him up. One by one they had swiftly turned their backs on him, after Ralph’s decisive win. The man was now alone and dejected in the world, as he deserved to be.

  Gwen’s forehead furrowed in the middle. ‘Do you believe that Stephen will keep to his promise?’

  ‘That is not easy to predict when one considers who we are discussing.’ Ralph turned around to face her. ‘But I hope so.’ He studied her for a moment before continuing. ‘What I would like to know is why you ventured back to the castle alone? Surely you knew the dangers that you might possibly face.’

  ‘Yes, of course, but in that moment of euphoria after your triumph, I overlooked that possibility. I thank you, by the way, for coming to my aid.’

  ‘Always, Gwen. Never doubt it.’ He fixed his gaze on to hers, making her flush. ‘But you still haven’t answered why you left so suddenly.’

  Gwen did not quite know how to respond. All she knew was that in that moment she had needed time to be alone and reflect on her future, now that Ralph’s seemed, finally, to be resolved. And to make her last final arrangements before her impending journey to the convent. In any case, Gwen never dreamed that she would be missed for such a short time.

  She shrugged. ‘It was nothing of import and I hardly know now.’

  ‘I see.’ He sighed. ‘And you are sure that you are well? Stephen did not hurt you?’

  ‘No, I am perfectly well, I thank you.’

  ‘Good,’ he muttered, as they descended into an awkward silence.

  ‘I had better go,’ she said finally. ‘I am sure Brida would be wondering where I have got to.’

  ‘I hope to see you this evening, my lady, at the banquet to celebrate today’s success.’ He bowed over her hand.

  Gwen knew that she should not stay. It would be best to prepare for their journey on the morrow, but that look in Ralph’s eye made it impossible for her to refuse.

  ‘Of course, I would not miss it for the world. Until later.’ She inclined her head and made her way back inside the castle.

  * * *

  The evening banquet that served as a celebration of Ralph’s victory and his restored castle and lands was the most spectacular that had been staged during the tournament. Torches had been lit, with garlands of seasonal greenery and flowers decorating the trellis tables that were covered in linen cloths. Trenchers of mutton, beef and pork with delicate spiced sauces to accompany the meat had been laid out on the tables. Warm rolls of bread, rounds of cheese and small savoury pastries were stacked on to platters, along with dried and fresh fruits. And, of course, the tables groaned with plenty of ale and silver goblets of red wine.

  ‘Are you unwell, my lady, only you have hardly touched your meal?’ Brida hissed from beside her.

  ‘I just am not particularly hungry, that is all.’ Gwen sighed, placing her meat knife down. Indeed, for some strange reason, her stomach seemed to be knotted in a perpetual state of nervous apprehension.

  Brida lowered her head close to hers, so her voice would not carry beyond Gwen’s ears. ‘Try for something. After all, the choicest cuts have been selected for our trencher.’

  Gwen forced herself to take small bites of food, knowing her friend was right, but everything tasted dry in her mouth, despite the obvious care and attention that the meal had been prepared with. What was wrong with her? It was as though she anticipated something this eventide, although she had no possible notion of that. She surreptitiously glanced in the direction of Ralph, who was sat with King Henry, the Marcher Earls, and William de Clancey and Hugh de Villers. Thomas Lovent also sat with the noble men, laughing and talking boisterously. It seemed everyone present on this eve was vying for Ralph’s attention.r />
  Gwen could not be happier for him, he deserved nothing less. Yet she could not help but feel a little empty inside, knowing that soon their lives would pull away from one another, once they went their separate ways.

  She sipped her spiced wine and returned her attention to her meal, just as musicians assembled at the end of the hall and began to strum their instruments before beginning to play. Their first few ditties were famous melodies from Poitiers. Gwen attempted to join in with the merriment and clapping. The next, however, was something so unexpected that she snapped her head up, blinking in a daze. It was a beautiful Welsh ballad sung to the most beautiful melody. And Gwen remembered it instantly from the far reaches of her mind.

  She began to hum the tune as she tried to remember the beautiful words sung about a warrior returning to his love and waiting on the hillside to be reunited with her after many long years apart.

  Ar y llechwedd hwnnw y byddwn yn cwrdd â fy nghariad eto.

  Sut y byddai’r tymhorau’n mynd heibio cyn y gallem fod gyda’n gilydd eto.

  Gwen could recall how her mother would smooth back her hair and sing it to her as she tried to coax her to sleep, when she was a child. The memory was so potent and immediate that it brought a lump to her throat.

  There was only person present in the hall who would know of this faded memory which was so utterly precious to her. One of the very few she had left of her mother. Gwen lifted her head and caught Ralph’s eyes watching her with such ardour that she felt her cheeks heat.

  She felt so touched that he had remembered this that her eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. Feeling annoyed with herself, she quickly turned her head and wiped them away with the back of her hand before anyone could bear witness to anything so mortifying. And in the middle of a celebratory banquet as well. Really, it was all too embarrassing.