He lifted his head, fighting off a grin. “You will never let me forget that, will you?”
She shook her head, an impish grin on her lips. At that moment, Hunt suddenly popped up with a tiny rabbit in his arms. He struggled with the little creature as he made his way to his mother.
“Mam!” he called. “Look, I have one!”
Cantia discreetly took her hand away from Tevin as Hunt approached. “My, he is a little one,” she said to her son as he drew near. “Perhaps he needs to go back to his mother.”
But Hunt was firm. “I will take care of him. I will be his mam.”
“He is too young, Hunt,” she insisted gently. “He will be missing his mother. Would you not miss me if you were taken away?”
Hunt cocked his head just as Brac used to. Squinting in the sunlight, he looked curiously at his mother. “But I will go away, some day. I will go away to learn to be a great knight.”
Cantia’s heart just about broke. Tevin eyed her, remembering their conversation on fostering and knowing how she had reacted to it. Hunt had unknowingly reopened the tender wound. He took control of the conversation before Cantia could react.
“You do not have to go away to be a great knight,” he said, moving for the boy and pretending to inspect the little brown bunny. “But your mother is right, Hunt. This rabbit is too small to be away from its mother. You had better let it go and try your luck with another.”
Hunt hesitated for a split second before doing as he was told. He brushed his little hands off on his breeches as he watched the rabbit hop away.
“Can I go with you to learn to be a great knight?” he asked. “I could live with you.”
“But what of your mother?”
His little brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Can’t she come, too?”
Tevin fought off a smile. “Mothers do not usually follow their sons to foster.”
Now Hunt’s little mouth twisted as he thought of a solution to the situation. He didn’t particularly want to leave his mother, but he wanted to be a great knight. His turmoil was evident and Tevin laid an enormous hand on his downy head. “We do not have to decide this today,” he told the boy. “Now, if you’re going to catch another rabbit, you’d better hurry up. The day grows late.”
Hunt turned around and went in search of his prey. Cantia watched her son, her gaze moving between the little blond head and the massive dark knight. When Tevin turned to look at her, she smiled sweetly.
“You are very good with children,” she said. “I think he likes you.”
“And I like him,” his dark eyes were on her, “as well as his mother.”
Cantia didn’t know what to say. She simply smiled. Tevin moved back to stand next to her and the two of them stood in silence as Hunt went off on another chase. Eventually, Tevin moved close enough to hold her hand. He tucked it into the crook of his elbow, his fingers playing gently with hers.
“How did you come to be so comfortable with children?” she asked, simply making conversation. “Most men are not so practiced.”
But it was not idle conversation to Tevin. He had been dreading a line of discussion just like this one. He could be evasive, but that would only delay the inevitable. Val had been correct. Cantia had to know, right from the start before things got out of control and it would be increasingly difficult to tell her. He felt so strongly about her that he would not disrespect her by lying or withholding the truth. He could only pray that she understood, for this was a situation he’d never before faced and he was unsure how adequately he could explain it.
“I am comfortable with them because I have one,” he said simply.
Cantia’s head snapped to him. “You have a child?”
He looked down at her. “Aye.”
A look of bafflement swept her. “But if you have a child…,” her eyes suddenly widened. “You must have a wife.”
He sighed heavily, holding her hand firmly as she tried to pull it away. The more he held on, the harder she pulled. “Stop, madam,” he commanded softly. “It is far more complicated than that.”
For too many reasons to guess, her eyes began to well. She lowered her head, but she also stopped pulling. “Please let me go,” she whispered.
“Nay, not until you hear me,” he sounded strangely as if he was begging.
“There is nothing to hear,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “You have a wife, yet you have openly displayed feeling for me and.…”
She suddenly yanked hard and dislodged her hand. As she quickly walked away in the direction that Hunt had been leaping, Tevin followed.
“Cantia,” he called after her quietly.
She whirled to him, still walking, almost tripping over her skirts as they became entangled in the grass. “No,” she jabbed a finger at him angrily. “No more. Never again will you say those things to me. I will not hear you.”
He took two giant strides and grabbed her. She struggled against him but she was no match for his strength. “Cantia, please hear me,” he very nearly pleaded. “It is not what it seems.”
She looked at him as if he were pure evil. “How can you say that? You are married.”
“By law, yes. But it is not that simple.”
She looked as if she wanted to punch him, her little fists balled up as she struggled. “You have toyed with me. I shall never forgive you for that.”
He spoke steadily, firmly, hoping she would hear his words above her outrage. “My wife has not been a part of my life since my daughter was born,” he said. “She was a noble of Teutonic birth and we were betrothed as children. We were married at a very young age and my daughter was born less than a year later. But Arabel was born with defects and my wife refused to accept the child. She blamed me for everything. She abandoned the baby and she abandoned our marriage. She ran off with one of the German knights who had escorted her to our marriage from her homeland and I’ve not seen her since.”
By this time, Cantia had stopped struggling. She gazed up at Tevin with a mixture of disbelief and anger. “The baby,” she said. “What is wrong with her?”
Tevin’s tight grip on her loosened, his hands beginning to caress her. “She was born with her spine exposed,” he said. “She is a cripple who cannot walk and can barely move her arms. But she is fifteen years old now and the most brilliant woman I have ever known. I am not sorry she was born, not in the least. Though I am sorry every day that her mother left her, I am not sorry that her mother left me, if that makes any sense. Louisa was proud, arrogant, and cruel. She has been gone these fifteen years and until a few weeks ago, I’d not thought of her in almost as long. And then I met you and began to wonder if the woman still lived. For as long as she lives, I can never remarry. You have made me think of such things and be concerned for them. But that does not stop me from adoring you, Cantia. It does not stop these feelings growing inside of me.”
Cantia just stared at him. He suddenly became so human in her eyes, so fragile. The viscount who commanded thousands was a man with a heavy heart and a humiliating past. She lifted a timid hand to his cheek.
“Oh… my poor Tevin,” she said softly. “Your wife ran off and left you with an ill child.”
He shrugged. It was an old wound, long since healed. “Arabel is a beautiful, intelligent girl. She has been my one joy in life until now. Since I met you, it is as if an entirely new world has opened up to me, something I never knew to exist. I don’t want to lose this, Cantia, but it all seems horribly unfair to you.”
“How do you mean?”
“Because nothing can ever become of it. I cannot marry you, and you should most definitely remarry. You will make some man a very fine wife.”
He hated uttering those words, for they were like daggers to his heart. Cantia removed her hand from his face and lowered her gaze, obviously contemplating all he had just told her. She resumed her walk, following the path of her son. They could see him in the distance, throwing himself on the ground in an attempt to trap his quarry. She came to a halt
on the crest of a small hill, about fifteen feet from Tevin. He still stood there, watching the breeze gently blow her hair about, wondering if all of the joy and excitement of the past few weeks had come to a tragic end.
That was more than likely the case. Cantia stood far from him, unmoving and silent. Tevin stood there a nominal amount of time before turning away from her with the intention of returning to the castle. But her soft voice stopped him.
“Tevin,” she called quietly.
He turned to her. “Aye?”
“Your wife,” she began. “Have you ever tried to find her?”
He paused, retracing his steps back in her direction. “Right after she left. But her father told me what she had done. Apparently, she had been in love with this knight since childhood and did not see her marriage to me as an obstacle to their happiness. Her father thought she was living in Paris with this man but he was not sure. I did not pursue it beyond that.”
He was within a few feet of her when she turned to look at him. “I must ask you a serious question.”
“By all means.”
“If your wife was dead, would you want to marry me?”
“Tomorrow, if I could.”
“Do you feel so strongly, then?”
He snorted at the irony of the question. “I believe that I do. Do you?”
She fell silent, her lavender eyes watching her son in the distance. As he watched her, he could see the tears returning. “No, Cantia,” he comforted. “No tears, not now.”
His words only made her burst into soft sobs. With a sigh, Tevin put his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. She clung to him, her soft body pressed close.
“I have felt so guilty for these feelings I harbor for you, thinking them very disrespectful to Brac’s memory,” she wept. “At first I thought I felt them because you had been kind to me and I was grieving and lonely, but as time passed, I realized these feelings had nothing to do with Brac’s passing. They were strong on their own. Now I cannot deny them no matter how hard I try.”
His face was buried in the top of her head as he rocked her gently. “As I have harbored the same guilt, only worse. I thought perhaps I was taking advantage of your vulnerability.”
She pulled her face out of his chest, looking up at him. “Never have you done that. You are a man of too much honor.”
He gazed down at her, feeling that uncontrollable pull again. It was a supreme struggle not to kiss her, out in the open to the shock of her son. A massive hand came up, smoothing her hair away from her face as he absorbed her lovely features.
“My cousin will be here for a week or two,” he said quietly. “You and I will be separated for as long. Perhaps… perhaps it will give us time to discover what we really feel, if it is something more than pity or convenience or lust.”
She knew he was right, though she did not want to be separated from him, not even for a moment. “And if we discover they are true?”
He pulled her closer. “Then I will go to Paris. I will not stop until I have discovered what has become of Louisa.”
Cantia swallowed hard. “And if she is alive?”
“I will petition the pope to annul the marriage on the grounds of abandonment and cruelty. And then I will marry you, we will have a dozen sons just like Hunt, and we will grow old in each other’s arms.”
She smiled, loving the feel of him against her, loving the glorious handsomeness of his masculine face. The wind was kicking up, blowing his copper curls into her face. “But what if you cannot obtain an annulment? What then?”
“I will still adore you for the rest of my life. You and no other.”
Her smile faded. “And I will still bear you a dozen strong sons and we will still grow old in each other’s arms.”
“I cannot ask that of you.”
“You did not. If it is the only way I can have you, then I am happy to make that choice.”
His dark eyes glittered like shards of obsidian, hard and unyielding and powerful. “Madam, I cannot imagine a greater honor, but you should think carefully about that statement while we are apart. I may hold you to it.”
“I would hope you do.”
He wanted to kiss her so badly that he began to shake. Unable to control himself, he lifted both of her hands and hungrily kissed them, devouring her flesh, sucking on her fingers until Cantia gasped softly. He nibbled her palms, her wrists, even her fingernails. In his grasp, Cantia was breathing heavily.
“Oh, Tevin,” she gasped. “When you do that.…”
“I know,” he moaned, his lips against the back of her right hand. “If you could only feel my need for you now, madam, you would know how badly I want you. All of you.”
Shockingly strong words, but she was not surprised or offended. She was not a maiden and Brac’s want for her had been insatiable. She knew what it meant to have a man make love to her. She wondered what it would be like when Tevin did. And she had no doubt that he soon would.
She moved close to him, taking his face between her hands. “I will take Hunt back to the castle so that he may play with his dog in the yard,” she whispered, her face an inch from his. “And then I will retreat to my chamber. You may find me there in one hour. Alone.”
He stared at her a moment, unsure if he heard correctly. He knew what she meant simply by the look in her eye. “Are you sure?”
“Verily.”
“But… Cantia, I do not want you to think that I am only interested in conquest. I do not take this lightly.”
“Nor do I,” she whispered. With that, she pressed her open mouth against him, her tongue engaging in a delicate dance with his. The blaze between them flared like a fire with too much dry kindling and, for a brief moment, Tevin was in danger of swallowing up her entire face. He couldn’t get enough of her. But just as quickly, she pulled away, walking hastily in the direction of her frolicking son.
Heart thumping painfully against his ribs, Tevin watched her go. He put his hand on his chest as if to stop the crazy beating. He couldn’t breathe. But she said she would be waiting for him in an hour.
It was the longest hour of his life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
With her healing ribs, Val couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. The sling back chairs did not provide enough support and the benches were too awkward. The only way she could find even moderate relief was if she pushed a sling back chair against a wall and propped herself up with a pillow.
Ever since their return from the cathedral that morning, she had been seated in the solar in precisely that upright position. Though she hated needlework and wasn’t any good at it, she was giving it a moderate try. One of the serving women had given her a clean piece of linen on Lady Cantia’s old frame and several colors of silk thread. So, like a true lady, Val was attempting to do something other than shoot arrows and thrust swords. Truth was that she couldn’t do much else.
It was turning out to be a horrendous piece of work over the past few hours she had been attempting it. And it was difficult to focus, too, considering the solar door was near the entry of the keep and she could see all manner of traffic passing in and out. Cantia and Hunt came in at one point, the boy rushing into the great hall while his mother mounted the steps to the upper levels. Then Myles came in a short time later and parked himself in a chair next to Val just to pass the time. Val had always liked Myles. He was handsome, wise and good of character. But he only spoke of the weather and a new charger or the price of a good sword. Never anything she might like to hear, though she wasn’t sure what, in fact, she might like to hear from him. Still, she wished he would speak to her of something other than warring.
Tevin came in a short time after Myles’ arrival, entered the solar, and engaged Myles in talk of de Gael’s arrival. Myles seemed to have calmed after his initial outburst. In fact, he showed his reluctance when Tevin asked him to escort the ladies to another location for the duration of the earl’s visit. He wanted to stay, but Tevin convinced him that escorting the lad
ies was far more important. Val was secretly glad he would be going. Maybe she could coerce him into speaking on the color of her eyes instead of the color of battle.
But thoughts of Myles aside, Val sensed something in Tevin. Outwardly, her brother was cool and collected, as usual. But an odd flicker in his eyes gave him an almost edgy expression. When he spoke with Myles, it was obvious his mind was elsewhere. Val wondered if it had something to do with Cantia. Tevin just didn’t seem like himself since they had returned from the cathedral.
To make the situation even stranger, he lingered so long in the solar that it almost seemed like he was killing time. Tevin was a man perpetually busy, which made it seem odd for him to loiter over meaningless conversation. But that was exactly what he appeared to be doing. Val was becoming suspicious. Just as she was preparing to ask him why he seemed so solicitous, Hunt entered the solar with a stick in one hand and the big yellow dog on his heels. The blue-eyed boy looked up at Tevin.
“My lord,” he tugged on Tevin’s tunic. “Have you theen my grandfather?”
Tevin looked down at the child. The question surprised him. Hunt had been displaying the resilience of a child in the wake of his father’s death and his grandfather’s subsequent madness, which made the question seem odd. It was the first the boy had mentioned his grandfather in two days.
“Your grandfather is safe, Hunt,” he said evenly. “You will see him soon, I am sure.”
Hunt’s little brow was furrowed. “But he promisthed to make me a new sword. I buried my other sword with my father. Where is grandfather?”
Tevin glanced at Val. Her pale eyes were wide. She was wondering how Tevin was going to handle this delicate situation. Tevin crouched down so he was nearly eye to eye with the child.
“Your grandfather is not feeling well,” he said honestly. “He is very sad that your father has died. He needs a few days to rest and then I am sure he will be well again.”
Hunt’s eyes were the shape of Cantia’s, even if they weren’t the same color. But Tevin also saw a good deal of Brac in the little face.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 52