by C. C. Wiley
James lifted her hips and slid into the swollen flesh. His eyes closed as he focused on the passion surrounding him. The barrier was there but her walls were slick and welcoming. He pumped, gently testing the resistance.
“James,” Terrwyn whispered. She ran her nails down his back, digging into his buttocks. She met his hips, pulling him tighter, begging him to drive deeper.
He drove in and pulled out, threatening to defy her request. When he broke through the barrier, she bucked against him. His eyes snapped open when he heard her gasp and felt her draw away.
Fear reflected in her eyes. He could not bear to have her look at him in that way. He did everything he could think of to silence the demands of his body. Their bodies slowed to a steady rhythm. He drew her close, whispering endearments along her neck.
Terrwyn no longer felt the searing pain that came when James pushed deep inside. Her heart warmed with every sweet word he spoke. Her flesh heated and the hunger returned. She ran her tongue over his neck, tasting his skin. Her fingers skimmed over his smooth back, and the satiny space where his thigh met his hip. James shuddered under her touch. Emboldened, she slipped her hand between them, sliding along the planes of his stomach and through the curls near his shaft.
The pace of their rocking increased. Groaning, James pulled back, then plunged again and again. Terrwyn gripped his waist, sliding her hands over his hips as their bodies slammed into each other. They came together. Their bodies locked as one, they exploded until they could not catch their breaths.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Terrwyn lay amidst the tangle of legs and thin blanket. She looked up at the angled ceiling of the attic room. The sun had shifted overhead. Afternoon shadows were all that was left of the daylight.
She carefully extricated her limbs from James’s and stretched her languid body. She never knew her joints were so limber. It was as if her bones were no longer held together by sinew and ligaments. The scent of their time together was all around them. She hid her face into the crook of her arm.
“Terrwyn?” The straw mattress rustled as James turned. His sigh stirred her hair draped over her arms.
She closed her eyes, feigning sleep. She was not ready to face him. Memories of the things they did to each other took her breath away. Her legs squeezed involuntarily. The rush of pleasure coursed through her veins, awakening some mystical being that must have possessed her senses.
Dear heaven, what had she done? She had given her maidenhood to an Englishman. Willingly! Her stomach clenched. She knew she would have to live with the consequences of her choice, just not so soon. What would those consequences entail? Nothing had changed. She still had to find her brother. The battles she saw in her dreams continued to haunt her. She had to find him in time. Fate would be denied her brother’s life.
“Terrwyn.” James lifted her curtain of hair. His head slanted, he peered into her face. Compassion darkened the color of his eyes to a predawn blue. He pushed her hair back. Leaning over her, he rested on his forearms. “Beautiful,” he whispered before he kissed her.
Although prepared to deny she wanted any more of his kisses or endearments, she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. Scooting closer, she let James tuck her body under his.
He looked down at her. His dark hair fell over his forehead. “I should like to sketch you again. Only this time, I will have my beauty in front of me.” He kissed her lips, then trailed down to her collarbone.
She shivered when he lifted his head. “Again? You’ve drawn me before?”
“From memory.” A wolfish smile lifted his mouth. “I will have you with me, and you will pose until I have caught the beauty of my Welsh faerie.”
“Will that take long?”
“I think it should take a very long time. Years perhaps. Centuries.”
She laughed despite herself. “Why is that? Are you that slow?”
“Inspirational breaks.” He wiggled his raven eyebrows.
Terrwyn melted into the mattress, barely noticing the coarse straw padding. His hands were moving hungrily over her stomach, her hips. His mouth sought her breast. Her toes curled when he suckled then scraped his teeth over her nipple. He looked up while he tongued the crest, soothing the tender skin.
He shook his head, denying her access to his body. “’Tis too soon. I would not harm you again.” He touched his forehead to hers. “You did not warn me.”
“Warn you? ’Twas me that bled.”
“You’re right, I should have known. I am a beast after all. You draw all sense from my brain. You’re so beautiful.”
“Stop saying that, you great fool.”
“And gentle.” He nipped behind her ear.
“I won’t be won over so easily next time.”
“Ah, see, you already promised a next time. I must add forgiveness to your long list of attributes.”
“There won’t be a next time.” Terrwyn crossed her arms. “You doubted my chastity. You thought me a light-skirt, an easy Welsh wench to tup as soon as you could get my heels above your head.”
“Forgive me. I never thought that of you.” James stroked her collarbone with his fingertip. “I lose my senses. All I can think of when I am with you is burying myself deep within you. Forget all but you in my arms.”
Terrwyn noticed the shift in the air. Something in those last few words changed everything. “Nay, vows and duty cannot be ignored, can they? We come from opposite sides.”
“But that’s not true. I’ve told you many times. Though my father is a strong Englishman, it is my brave Welsh mother who taught me courage. I come from both worlds.”
From temple to jawline, Terrwyn slid her hand down his cheek. Her fingers trailed to the center of his chest. She paused at the silver ring hanging from the leather thong around his neck. “But in here, your heart beats for your English king.” She took his hand and laid it on her breast. “And mine does not.”
“Nay, you have it wrong. Remember, I am a man of two worlds. My heart beats for king and for you, love.” He answered before she uttered a denial. “Let me show you all the ways you are beautiful.” He bent his head to kiss her and whispered, “Beautiful,” again and again until every part of her body received his blessing.
Lazy as a cat, Terrwyn stretched, arching her back. Her thighs were sorer than when she rode on horseback all day. Her breasts were tender to the touch, not from pain, but the simplest of movements brought a sensation singing to her core. Never had she felt so beautiful and wanted. She indeed felt loved. She quickly squashed that thought and added, loved for an afternoon.
The tiny room was barren without James to fill it with his great, glorious body. She nearly purred at the thought of his return.
Earlier, he had promised to send up another bucket of warm water. He would see what he could smuggle up in the way of food or whether it was safe for them to dine in the tavern’s main room.
True to his promise, a knock at the door came moments after he left her. Terrwyn opened the door wide enough to drag in an empty bucket for her private needs and a bucket of warm water to wash off. She let the steam warm her face. She tested the water and began to clean herself using the towels and a pot of soap from their earlier bath.
James opened the door to find Terrwyn standing in the tub. The damp bath sheet clung to the curves, dips and valleys of her luscious body. Her eyes flashed in surprise then shuttered behind the shy look he thought they had banished with their love play. The voices from the men who had already begun to fill the tavern rose up the stairway and through the thin walls. “You did not lock the door.”
“If I would have locked it, I would have had to leave the bath and drip water all over the floor to let you in.”
James closed the space between them. He stroked the moisture dripping from her jaw and ran his hands down her neck. “Promise me you will lock the door behind me. I would not have another see you like you are.”
Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “As you say.”
Satisfied, he lifted her from the tub. Ignoring the water marks her body left behind, he let her slide down his chest and placed her gently on the floor. “We have a bit of time before our dinner is brought up. ’Tis a pity I don’t have my tools. I would sketch your image as you are.” When she hesitated, he added, “I’m quite skilled.”
Her cheeks pinked to a rosy hue as her understanding grew. “You wish to draw me naked?”
“Aye, ’twould be a sin to cover exquisite loveliness.”
“Wait!” Terrwyn pulled away, nearly skipping across the room. She rooted through her quiver, her damp hair draped around her face. She spun around, the charcoal and small whittling knife in hand. “I grabbed them before we left Sir William’s tent.”
James held out his hand. “My thanks, love. What with all your surprises, I’d find it easy to believe your quiver and arrows are blessed by the faeries. Perhaps you’ll unearth some parchment as well.”
He waited for her to admit she kept his journal of drawings from him. Instead, Terrwyn brushed off his comment as she walked naked about the room. James found the sight of her distracting and it was hard to keep up with her conversation when she turned the conversation to eating instead of being the subject of his artistic talents.
Terrwyn dropped next to the bundle she carried the night they snuck out of the encampment. “We are not to go down to eat in the tavern? Won’t Mistress Alice wonder what you’ve done with your young brother?”
“She’s paid well enough to ignore the extra work of carrying a meal up to the attic.” James tossed the leather-bound journal on the bed.
Terrwyn ducked her head, keeping her gaze from his. “How did you get that?”
James rocked on his feet and kept his hands behind his back. He had to stifle the need to cradle her in his arms, comfort her, release her from distress. “Why didn’t you tell me you had it? I told you to trust me.”
“Oh-ho! Look who is calling the bit of coal black. You went through my things. ’Tis you that didn’t trust!”
“You know that is not true. You kept this from me, knowing that I needed it. We wouldn’t have had to come here.”
“Aye, we would have. You memorize everything you see. I cannot believe you wouldn’t have found a way to recreate the drawings. Nay, you needed something more. For the king.”
James paused, shuttering his heart. “Aye, for my king. Is that why you kept the truth from me? To stall my information until it was too late to protect the throne?”
“Nay. I needed those drawings to find my brother.” She grabbed the journal from the bed.
“Put it down.”
“You can run me through with your blade if you like. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ve been haunted by the sight until I cannot sleep.”
Their harsh breaths cut through the air. The dry sound of parchment rustled as she flipped through the pages. When she finally found what she searched for, she stopped. The discarded drawings fluttered to the bed.
“Here,” she said, holding out the sketch. “This is why I cannot let you have it. Not until you give me your vow to help me find my brother.”
“Let me see, my sweet.”
Terrwyn stepped back and pressed the drawing to her breasts. “This is the closest I’ve been since you and your king took him away.”
Confused, James drew back. Portions of another afternoon so long ago, so very long ago, flashed in his mind. Henry had been new to his own power. He had not realized the pain his decisions caused to so many. The wariness in her eyes told him his worst fears. She would never forget the part he had played that afternoon. “Why did you not speak of this before?”
“I did try.”
“When you were blaming me for something while we were held in Sir William’s tent? I didn’t understand.”
“Aye, the first time I saw the drawings in your journal. ’Twas but a quick peek of the sketch before we were taken to speak with Sir William.”
“But you had your suspicions.”
Terrwyn nodded. “’Twas when you were lying on your side in the dirt, looking at me with sorrow in your eyes, that I recalled seeing your face.”
“And still you held your tongue,” he said in wonder. “You kept your secret well.”
“It wasn’t until after I had the drawings in my possession that I had a better look at them. Still I didn’t know for certain that was Drem’s face you drew. He’s a different age since the last time I saw him.”
“I never once intended to cause you harm.”
“But you did. You and your king’s actions caused pain for more than just a few. ’Twas my responsibility to keep him safe, and my failure to do so is a thorn that has rubbed me every day since.”
“Ah, sweetheart.” He stepped forward. When she did not cringe, he held out his hand and motioned her to come to him. Though still wary, she closed the distance. His arms widened and she stepped into his embrace. He did not breathe for a few seconds for fear she would leap away from him.
He tilted her chin so that their eyes met. “We will find your brother.” The gentle kiss he placed on her forehead was chaste and nothing that resembled their afternoon of passion. “You have my vow.”
The drawing caught between them, Terrwyn turned in his arms and sobbed.
The knocking at the door tore them apart as if they had been splashed with cold water. Terrwyn ran from his arms, wiggled into her leggings and drew on the linen shirt, gambeson and leather jerkin. She was stuffing her feet into Drem’s old boots when James opened the door.
Tobia walked in, carrying a tray filled with bread and another pitcher of ale. The scent of stew wafted into the room. The boy motioned for some space to set the tray.
“Here lad, let me give you hand with this.” James began clearing the table. He grabbed Terrwyn’s cap and tossed it to her.
She caught it and clapped it on her head. While she stuffed her hair into the cap, she listened intently as James and Tobia conversed about the comings and goings of the tavern. It was an unusually busy night at the Bloated Goat.
James followed Tobia to the door and promised to set out the buckets for cleaning before turning in for the evening. He waited until the child made it safely down the stairs before he set the lock.
“Come, love. Sit down and eat.” He pushed the trencher filled with stew toward her.
To Terrwyn’s mortification, her stomach growled again. She took the food from James and smiled her thanks. “Will you not have a bite?”
He dipped a chunk of crusty bread into the stew. “I’d say that despite her faults Mistress Alice does have a good hand with the spoon.”
They ate companionably, sitting beside each other on the small bed until the stew was finished. James poured out the remains of the pitcher into their mugs. Terrwyn’s lids grew heavier after every bite.
“Here,” he said, clearing off the bed and fluffing the ticking. “Have a bit of a sleep. Rest while you can. Tomorrow, we continue our ride south.”
She caught his wrist through a haze of exhaustion. “You will honor your vow to help me find my brother?”
“Aye,” he said. “Rest while I take a turn or two around the tavern. Need to check on Zeus, make certain he is well tended.”
The smile she gave him was that of a trusting angel. James prayed that one day he would deserve it.
James sat in the corner of the tavern, keeping his back protected. The serving wench set a pitcher of ale and a mug down in from of him. She leaned in low, giving him a look at what she offered. He imagined her mistress would not care to know that one of her girls intended to earn a few coins on the sly. He shook his head and gave her an extra pence for her efforts.
Nursing the ale in his mug, he watched the comings and goings of the smoke-filled room. Soon the patrons began to drift off. Some found a pallet near the fire. Others, he knew, would find their way home to the nearby village.
James leaned into the corner, letting the shadows cover his actions. According to Tobia, there w
as to be a meeting tonight. It used to bring more men but one by one their numbers had dwindled to a handful. A few stood out in the boy’s mind. One of the men he described sounded like Edgar Poole.
James pulled out his journal and sorted through the parchments. He stopped when he came to a particular drawing and held it under a flickering candle. The other man Tobia had described sounded familiar too.
He feared he was about to hurt Terrwyn again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The meager candle Mistress Alice sent up was slowly burning out. The sounds of the men visiting the Bloated Goat began to diminish. Impatient to speak with James, Terrwyn paced the wide planks of the attic floor.
The night vision had come to her while she slept. Drem’s face was that of a nearly grown man. But unlike the other times, his face was partially blackened, his clothing in tatters. He kept calling her name, over and over again. The weightiness of it made her irritation grow. The night visions might foretell only one version of the future. But what if she could change the fates? It she was correct, then she still might stop the grief and set things right.
The sound of several horses coming into the tavern yard drew her to the window. She opened the shutters and looked out. Worried for James’s safety, she gathered her bow and quiver.
Careful of the rickety steps, she crept down the stairs and entered the nearly empty tavern room. No one saw her slip through the back door. The yard was empty. Several horses stood by an outbuilding she had noticed when they rode in earlier that morning. Once a smokehouse, it was nearly falling down. Probably used as storage now.
She leaned into the shadows of the yard as a few men rode up single file. Their movements were secretive and agitated. It worried her that she had not seen any sign of James for some time. Had they captured him and were now holding him in the shed?
She followed the men, keeping her bow in hand. An arrow was nocked and ready. She peeked around the corner. The moonlight struck across the face of one of the men. His movements stiff, he signaled to the other man to dismount.