She clutched the twig and tried to pull her hand away, but he held fast. She keened plaintively. “She is blind, my lord.”
“She has a man who loves her, who yearns to be her eyes, but she rejects him. It would seem she’s not the courageous woman I believed her to be. You have a man who longs to make you his wife, yet you prefer to be bound by the bonds of guilt your sister has imposed upon you. I bid you good day.”
He let go of her hands.
The twig fell to the ground.
She did not attempt to rise as he stood stiffly. Before going back inside, he stole a glance to where she sat. Face buried in her hands, she struggled to stifle her sobs. Would she understand he spoke the truth? He again prayed fervently that Rhydderch loved Isolda enough to take care of her needs for all time.
He made his way back to his wife and embraced her, resting his chin atop her head. “I’ve done what I can. Diplomacy is about repeating things over and over until someone listens. The rest is up to them.”
Fulfilling The Prophecy
Since childhood, Rhun had dreamt of longbows, quivers, arrows, and fletches. It was natural a boy as gifted with a bow as he would dream thus. Perhaps his prowess had come about because he hit targets in his sleep, eyes closed. It had always been effortless.
In this dream, sweat poured from his body as he strained to ensure his arrow flew straight and true. The bowstring cut deep into the calloused pads of his fingertips, every muscle in his upper body screaming with the effort. He had to slay the demon pursuing Glain. He dared not miss.
He woke, his body and hair drenched. He shivered in the clammy air. Rubbing his eyes, he pieced together the hazy bits of the dream.
Glain was fleeing, crying out in despair. Without pause he had drawn his bow and nocked an arrow to save her. But the demon changed shape, disappeared then reappeared. Rhun struggled to keep it in his sights, determined it would not destroy her.
His memory refused to reveal the dream’s ending. Had his aim been true? Had he saved her?
* * *
“Glain?” Isolda’s voice held a hint of nervousness.
Glain tore her gaze away from the practice fields where Rhun, stripped to the waist, was instructing young warriors in defensive moves with shields. The stiffness in his body as he drove his pupils betrayed the anger seething within.
She longed to run her hands over those tight muscles, to ease his pain.
Isolda continued. “I’ve been thinking.”
Glain was only half listening. “About what?”
“You and Rhun.”
Glain became alert instantly. “What about us?”
Isolda hesitated. “Not about just you and Rhun. About me and Rhydderch.”
Nervous dread seeped into Glain’s belly. “What is it you want to say?”
This time Isolda did not pause. “I want you to be happy.”
Glain scoffed. “And what about you and Rhydderch? Does he not deserve happiness? Will you continue to deny him the love he wants to lavish on you?”
Isolda pulled at the collar of her gown. “I have my own problems. Don’t you think I crave…but that’s no reason for you to postpone your happiness with Rhun.”
Glain snorted, her anger getting the better of her. If Isolda still loved Rhydderch, why was she determined to be unhappy? “We are twins. Our lives are bound together. If you’re not happy, I can’t be happy. If you don’t marry Rhydderch, I can’t marry Rhun. The prophecy will not come to fruition.”
Isolda looked like she had been struck by lightning. She sat with shoulders drooped, her mouth agape. Glain worried she had gone too far.
Isolda remained silent for a long while, then murmured, “I will marry Rhydderch, but only if you marry Rhun.”
It was a barely audible whisper, but Glain heard it. Tears flowed freely down both women’s faces. “Isolda, without you I’m nothing. Without Rhun, I’m less than nothing.”
“So be it then. Take my hand. Let’s inform the magnificent men to whom we’re betrothed.”
Glain helped her sister rise. “Isolda, blindness doesn’t make you any less beautiful. Rhydderch loves you still.”
Isolda shook her head. “He pities me. How can a man such as Rhydderch love a blind woman?”
Come To Bed
Annalise watched Isolda. Despite her wedding finery and the garland of fresh flowers in her hair, the woman looked like a prisoner on her way to execution, rather than the banquet celebrating her marriage. Anyone who beheld Isolda and Glain would discern immediately they were twins, but their expressions today were as different as chalk and cheese.
Happiness shone on Glain’s beautiful face. Rhun’s enormous grin spoke for itself. Annalise doubted if they would remain long with their guests, already having difficulty keeping their hands off each other.
Isolda hadn’t smiled once during the double ceremony, and Rhydderch’s expression remained unfathomable. Both repeated their vows in ragged whispers strangled with emotion. Isolda stood rigid in her husband’s arms when he kissed her after the vows were complete, whereas Glain and Rhun’s kiss came close to setting the chapel afire.
A pang of dismay skittered through Annalise. She remembered with regret how cold she had been to Rhys on their wedding day. Her behavior had been caused by fear. She did not know then she would come to love her Welsh barbarian with such passion.
She and Rhys barely knew each other when they were wed, did not speak the same language, were from different cultures. She resented being traded for the lives of these two twins whose wedding she was witnessing today. She had come to love Rhys once she got to know him, but Isolda had fallen in love at first sight with Rhydderch and had admitted her love. They were made for each other—that was obvious to all.
Instead of shying from Isolda’s blindness, Rhydderch had embraced it, glad to be her eyes, anxious to protect her. Whence her fear? Annalise shuddered again. She was not blind and had no right to judge, but should Rhydderch be the whipping boy for his wife’s affliction?
Seated next to her, Rhys must have sensed her unease. He drew her closer, placing his hand on her swollen belly. “What is it, my love? Are you unwell?”
She shook her head slightly, then rested it on his shoulder, thankful for the gift of this strong, gentle man. “Non, I’m sad for Rhydderch and Isolda. Your tactics worked, but they seem so unhappy.”
Rhys chuckled. “I recall your unhappiness at our wedding, but look at us now. You’re deliriously happy wed to a handsome man who loves you passionately.”
Annalise feigned outrage and wagged her finger at him. “Handsome? Méchant more like it.”
“You love it when I’m naughty.” He leaned forward to lick her finger and then sucked it into his mouth.
She inhaled sharply and let out a whimper, her eyes wide. “Rhys!” An ache of longing spiraled through her tender breasts to pool in her nipples. Her gaze strayed of its own volition to his groin and there she espied what she expected to. She shifted in her seat. The ache had spread.
He grinned lasciviously and licked again.
She protested, pulling her finger slowly from his mouth. “We must be serious.”
Rhys frowned. “This is my brothers’ wedding day. Rhun is so obviously happy I want to shout out my happiness for him. We mustn’t overlook their joy. Isolda and Rhydderch have many obstacles to overcome, but they will succeed. Their love for each other will carry them through. He has to stop doing everything for her. They will never be completely happy until she learns she is still a beautiful woman and that Rhydderch truly loves her despite her blindness. She feels guilty and believes he is acting out of pity. She fears she’ll be a burden to him.
“Look at her. She knows Rhydderch would rather be laughing and carousing with his brother instead of sitting holding her hand. He could be, if she would accept his love, but she is trapped in her own misery. She refused Glain’s coaxing to join her in hiding for the traditional wedding ‘kidnapping’.”
Annalise squeezed his
hand, regretting she had not known about the Welsh tradition when she and Rhys were married. “I pray you are right, but regarde, you must go with Rhun. He’s discovered where the women hid Glain and is already dragging her off to their bridal chamber. You’re his older brother, you must go with them. My ankles are swollen. I’ll remain here, with Isolda and Rhydderch.”
Rhys came to his feet and joined the merry band carrying Rhun and Glain to their chamber. Then he looked back at his wife. “It doesn’t appear so, but Rhydderch and Isolda are both relieved they’re married.” He kissed her forehead. “Je t’aime.”
She smiled, thrilled she could confirm her love for him in his language. “Rwy’n dy garu di.”
He grinned and limped off to catch up to the revelers.
* * *
Rhun needed desperately to be inside his beautiful wife. The silk bed robe he’d been given did nothing to hide his rock hard tarse. The fear Glain would never be completely his until he claimed her body drove him mad with need. The threat of losing her terrified him.
The plague had brought home to him how rapidly joy might turn to despair. He would seize the day and consummate his marriage without delay, before his shaft turned to granite. He wanted to spend his life pleasuring and protecting the bewitching and playful woman he had wed. Wales had been his first love. Now his country would have to take second place.
A hearty fire burned in the hearth. He had never shared a chamber with anyone but his twin when they were children. Glain’s presence in his refuge somehow seemed right. It made the room brighter. It struck him for the first time how masculine the furnishings were. Weapons adorned the walls. However, someone had definitely cleaned and tidied.
Thank you, Carys.
Glain sat propped up by the bolster, her long flaxen hair flowing over her shoulders. Her maidservant had dressed her in a fine linen nightrail, and she smiled nervously as the last of the guests departed, their bawdy laughter echoing in the halls.
She gazed around his chamber, seeing it for the first time. He took a deep breath. “It must seem…I mean, I’ve never had a woman…no, that’s not what I meant to say.”
Glain laughed and held out her hand to him. Had the heat of the fire flushed her face to a bright red? She looked at him through half-lidded eyes and her gaze fell to his groin. “Come to bed, Rhun.”
Her voice had always enthralled him. Her words echoed in his head and travelled to his toes. He had never been at such a loss for words. Rhun, the mighty patriot warrior, brought to his knees by the promise he might at last make love to the woman he adored.
Pray I do this right, that I please her.
He stood by the bed. Should he take off the bed robe first? Would she be alarmed? He felt like a nervous child. He bent his knee to climb onto the mattress, but she held up her hand. Surely, she wouldn’t deny him now?
She fluttered her eyelashes. “Won’t you disrobe first?”
He opened his mouth to reply. The flames reflected the devilment in her eyes. She was teasing him. She wanted to see his body as much as he longed to see hers. He undid the tie at his waist and let the silk garment slide with a slow whisper from his body.
Glain licked her lips and gaped. The color drained from her face.
I’ve frightened her.
He leapt onto the bed and gathered her into his arms. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I know I’m big, but I’ll make you ready. I swear.”
She looked up at him. “I’m not afraid, Rhun. I’m ready for you.”
He regretted she would never wear the beautiful nightrail again after he tore it from her body, but her words inflamed him to such a degree, he couldn’t stop. “Fy Nuw! Glain, I love you so much.”
He brushed his lips over hers and delved his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of the Montbryce apple brandy Baudoin and Carys had brought as a gift. She twirled her tongue around his and he sucked it into his mouth. Every inch of his flesh tingled.
She gasped and arched her back as he turned his attention to suckling her nipples, one after the other, like a starving child. She smelled sweet and wholesome. He savored the firmness of her breasts, the smoothness of her skin. Though he had fondled her before, and felt her nipples harden beneath the fabric of her dresses, he had never seen her naked. “I have longed to behold your breasts, to take them in my mouth and suckle. Are my fingers too rough?” He flicked his tongue over one of the taut points.
Glain raked her fingers through his hair. “No. It feels good. It does funny things to my insides.”
“Mine too.”
She has no idea!
Glain suddenly dug her nails into his scalp and her breathing became labored. A moment later she called out his name over and over, thrusting her hips towards him. The musky scent of female arousal wafted into his flared nostrils, eliciting a low growl from his throat. He ran his fingers through the curls at her mons then over her swollen nether lips. She had released though he had not yet touched her most intimate place. Wet warmth pooled on his fingers. He touched a fingertip to her engorged bud. She arched again and a guttural cry escaped her lips.
She had already parted her legs. He could wait no longer. Rising above her, he guided the end of his tarse to her opening, his heart beating wildly. The urge to penetrate her was overwhelming. If he wasn’t quick, he would come before he got inside her. She opened her eyes and touched his shaft with her delicate, healing fingers. The lust on her face swept away like chaff on the wind any good intentions of entering her slowly. He closed his eyes and plunged into the tight pulsating wetness of his wife’s sheath. If anyone still in the neuadd did not hear his shout of joy, he would be surprised.
A question forced its way into the rhythmic pounding. Had he hurt her? He opened his eyes. She was smiling, eyes glazed with passion. Her hips urged him to drive deeper. He lifted her legs to his chest and curled his arms around her calves at the side of his head. He opened his mouth to tell her his seed was coming, but no sound emerged.
She reached up and put her hands on either side of his face. “Fill me, Rhun. I am greedy for you.”
Her mouth fell open. She thrust back her head. He wished for a tongue long enough to lick her slender neck and thirsted to bite her throat exposed for him. The long, low keening sound she made sent him tumbling over the edge. His essence burst forth deep inside as she cried out his name again. They were one at last. His aim had been true.
* * *
The logs shifting in the grate as the flames consumed them brought Glain back to the world. She was pleasantly sticky where their bodies had joined. Rhun lay with most of his weight on her, his broad shoulders glistening in the firelight, his hair strewn across her face. She twisted her fingers into it, dreaming of red-haired children. Maybe twins? A future filled with more naughty fun.
His breathing had slowed. Was he asleep? He had stayed inside her and now she felt new stirrings of his interest. She wanted his weight covering her for all time.
“What are you thinking?” His rich voice startled her and she clenched on him, feeling him respond.
He touched the end of her nose as she gazed at him. “I know what I’m thinking.”
She untangled her fingers and lifted her arms to rest them on the bolster, arching her back and stretching. He raised up on his elbows and looked at her, then moved his hands to entwine his fingers in hers, pressing her hands to the pillow. The slow thrusting of his hips was already building the enthralling heat inside her again.
He smiled. “You are beautiful, and you’re mine.”
His smile took her breath away. She squeezed his fingers, reveling in the power this man held over her. “Forever,” she whispered.
You Never Left
“If I wanted to live the life of a monk, Isolda, I would have joined a monastery.” Rhydderch instantly regretted the sarcasm of his harsh words to his wife of a fortnight. He took a deep breath. “I love you and I’ve been patient. I understand how devastating your blindness is. I would sacrifice anything to have you
r sight restored, but I can no longer accept your refusal to share my bed. You’re my wife.”
They sat in the small chamber off the neuadd. She felt safe there. It had become her haven, but also her prison. He didn’t dare sit beside her. If their bodies touched, he feared it would inflame him to such a degree he might take her against her will. He desperately wanted to avoid that, yearning for a willing Isolda who did not shrink from his touch. He wanted the Isolda with whom he had laughed and teased and touched in intimate places.
But his patience was at an end. Isolda wore her blindness as a protective shield, letting no one enter. He did not want to invoke wifely duty. She might acquiesce, but that was not the solution. He craved her love, but did she love him still, deep within? He had tried to reach her there, and failed.
The evident joyous intimacy between Rhun and his wife made matters worse. Unable to keep their hands off each other on the day of the wedding, they’d left the banquet early to rush off to their chambers. He had remained in the hall, clutching his new wife’s trembling hand. He had sensed she wanted to share Glain’s excitement at being kidnapped, but had been too afraid.
The next day, Rhun had taken great pride in running the bloodied sheets from his marriage bed up the flagpole. Rhydderch had been happy for his brother, but devastated his own wife had not shared his bed on their wedding night.
She clutched the arms of her chair. “I told you before we were married I wouldn’t make a good wife. I’m blind. What do you expect? I’m helpless.”
He raked his hair back from his face, pulling hard to assuage his frustration. “You are not helpless. You assume that mantle like armor. Why do you believe you have to protect yourself from me?”
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