Lord of Secrets

by Gillgannon, Mary

  She reached the cottage door and Melyn Bach came up and began rubbing against her legs. As she stooped to pet the cat, pain and loss shafted through her. Oh, William, why did you have to come and break my heart?

  *

  “You’ve done well, Baldwin.” William nodded to the knight encouragingly, before taking another bite of pottage. They were in the hall; William was eating while Baldwin made his report.

  The knight cleared his throat and continued. “We’ve done the best we can on the mill. But I think it will probably be another fortnight before we have it working again.”

  “That is good progress.” William took another bite. “The pottage is definitely better with salt. Some meat would improve it even more. Now that we have salt, and the cattle back, we need to start the butchering.”

  Baldwin shifted uneasily. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about that sort of thing.”

  “Hearne should know about the process of culling the herd. And when it comes to preserving the meat, Elspeth will probably have some ideas.”

  Elspeth. Once he was finished with Baldwin, he would have to meet with her. William took the last bite and pushed the crockery bowl away. There was so much to do here at the castle. He wondered if he would have time to visit the village before dark.

  Baldwin shook his head. “I have to say, milord, the reeve has been next to worthless. Hearne tried to countermand my orders regarding the mill several times. Said the villeins need to be plowing the fallow fields while the weather is still fine. He may be right, but if they’re doing that, they’re not helping with the construction.”

  “I’ll speak to him.” Was there no end to the problems he faced? As soon as they rode into the castle bailey, he’d been besieged by people asking questions and wanting him to make decisions. Still, he would not complain. They’d arrived back safely and for the most part things had gone as he’d hoped.

  “You can speak to Hearne if you find him. I have not seen him since Rob and Stephen and the rest of them returned with the cattle and Rollo’s body. I wonder now if Hearne and Rollo were allied in some way. Perhaps it was because without you here and with Adam dead, they both felt they could do whatever they wished, so they worked out an arrangement where Hearne was in charge of things in the village, while Rollo mostly concerned himself with making himself comfortable at the castle. That way, both of them got what they wished.”

  William tried to control his growing anger as he got to his feet. “Anything else, Baldwin?”

  “Well…” The knight gazed at him uncertainly. “There is the matter of the mass for Rollo.”

  “Do whatever you think is best.”

  Baldwin’s auburn brows shot up. “Milord?”

  “I want you to become accustomed to making decisions. In case I have to leave Higham again.”

  “Why would you have to leave?”

  “I don’t know, to take the wool to market perhaps. To return to Wales. It doesn’t matter. I need you to be able to take charge when I’m away.”

  “Of course, milord.” Baldwin’s face remained expressionless. William wondered if the knight resented having so much responsibility heaped on him. Get used to it, he thought grimly. My life as a lord is tenfold as burdensome.

  Indeed, as soon as he left the hall, he was stopped a half dozen times in the yard by people greeting him and asking for directions and advice. Finally, many minutes later, he escaped the castle and started down the trackway. As he did so, he thought of making this same journey with Adam at his side. Curse it! If only Adam had not been killed. William missed him greatly. When he had felt like he was drowning in problems, he’d always had calm, practical Adam to turn to.

  But now he had Rhosyn. Although he didn’t want to burden her with all his worries. She had her own life as a healer and he didn’t want to interfere with that. Yet if they were wed, he would want to share things with her. That was what he wanted in a wife. But maybe she didn’t seek that sort of intimacy with a man. Indeed, maybe she didn’t want to marry him at all. When he’d spoken of her being his wife, she had never truly responded.

  Doubts gnawed at him, and he was relieved when he reached the village and was too busy to think more about Rhosyn. He stopped to inspect the mill and was mostly pleased to by what he found. “You’ve done well,” he told the carpenter.

  Aldreth snorted. “No thanks to Sir Rollo and Hearne. First your knight insists I work on the furniture for your bedchamber instead of the mill. Then Hearne tried to get all my helpers off doing the fall plowing. I know the plowing needs to be done, but so does finishing the mill. I found it odd that Hearne would try to undermine your wishes. But it’s hard to know with that man. He’s such a cold, selfish fellow.”

  “I’m going to speak to Hearne. I’m on my way to his house now.”

  Aldreth grunted. “I wonder if he’s ill or something. I haven’t seen him around anywhere in almost two days.”

  Ill, or in hiding? William wondered grimly. Maybe the man was making himself scarce because he’d learned William had returned and he realized he was in trouble.

  Jesu! If he could not trust the reeve, he would have to relieve him of his position. There was no way he could have someone in such a position of authority who repeatedly defied him. But who to appoint in his place? And then what the devil did he do with Hearne?

  William’s experience with Rollo had taught him that angry, disgruntled men could be dangerous. He didn’t want to relieve Hearne of his position and then always worry about him trying to get revenge in some petty way.

  He reached the reeve’s croft. His wife Gisella said he wasn’t there. When he queried Gisella as to where he the reeve might be found, she said, “I don’t know, milord. He does not speak to me of anything of importance.”

  William regarded Gisella thoughtfully. She was a quiet, narrow-faced woman with dark gold braids handing beneath her linen kerchief. Her manner was very subdued, and very different than most of the other women of the village. What was the reason for her downcast eyes and timid manner? Did Hearne beat her or abuse her in some way, and that was why she was so withdrawn?

  Gisella was certainly of an age to have children. Was she unable to conceive? Or had she borne children and they died? He could not ask. If either situation was true, he did not want to worsen her grief.

  William nodded to Gisella and thanked her, but as he walked away he realized he had a new concern with regards to how he dealt with Hearne: If he removed Hearne from his position, would the man take out his anger on Gisella?

  William continued into the village and was greeted warmly everywhere he went to ask about Hearne. Goodwife Sybelle urged him to have some bread with freshly churned butter. Rosy-cheeked little Aldna raced to meet him with her gathering basket and breathlessly asked him if he’d like some of the blackberries she’d just picked. But none of them had seen Hearne.

  Neither Glyda nor Maida had seen him either. Although they did say they’d spoken to Rhosyn. There was definitely something both calculating and questioning in their expressions when they mentioned the healer. The village women were clearly trying to figure out the exact relationship between Rhosyn and him. The truth was, he did not know himself.

  He reached the end of the village near Rhosyn’s cottage. A part of him wanted desperately to go see her. The other part warned him that to do so would be self-indulgent. It was very unlikely Rhosyn knew where Hearne was. He needed to concentrate on finding the reeve.

  The women had not known where the man was. Hopefully the village men would have more information. Most of them had been helping with the mill construction, but a few were out plowing. Aldreth had explained that at this point, not all the men were needed to work on the construction, so he had allowed them to take turns plowing.

  William headed out to the field that would be planted in the fall. Nearby was the one that had lain fallow this year. On the other side of the river was where the spring crops had been grown.

  On the way to the field, he stopped in t
he orchard, where several youths were picking apples, the shiny, ruddy fruit piling up in baskets beneath the heavily loaded trees. None of the youths had seen Hearne.

  Reaching the autumn field, he encountered a villein plowing with his team of oxen. The man, who said his name was Wulfric, seemed shocked to see William. Apparently Roscales had never come out to the fields, even to inspect the crops. Wulfric said he had not seen Hearne for two days.

  On the next strip of ploughland over, another villein halted his oxen and watched William intently as he asked about Hearne.

  “I think he’s gone, milord. Probably off with the Welsh, don’t you think?” The villein shrugged, as if what he was saying was obvious.

  “The Welsh. Why do you think he would go off with the Welsh?”

  The villein regarded him gravely. “I think he was working with them. I even think he had something to do with the raids. And the fire.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Saw him a couple of time, meeting men on your lands. ’Twas before the wheat harvest was completely finished. Right after Roscales left and you came here. They met at the edge of the field. I guess they thought no one would be out there.”

  “And you think they were Welsh?”

  “They wore leather jerkins, carried short swords.” The man gestured. “Fighting men. But not like knights.”

  William looked the villein over. He wore a roughly-woven tunic of undyed wool. His fair hair was dark with sweat and his deeply tanned face flushed from exertion. “What’s your name, man?”

  “William, the same as yours.”

  He wanted to ask why the man hadn’t come forward sooner. But he knew the probable reason. This man, William, didn’t trust him. Likely saw him as an arrogant English lord who deserved no better than he got. Still, the loss of the mill affected the villagers directly.

  “After the fire, the burning of the mill… Did you not think you should alert someone as to what Hearne was up to?”

  “I told the dark-haired knight. He was in the village meeting up with Egelina, the little slut,” The man’s mouth twisted in disdain.

  Rollo. The villein had told the one man who could be counted on to do nothing.

  “Thank you for telling me this now, William the ploughman.” The villein inclined his head, then clicked his tongue and spoke a Saxon word William didn’t know and the two oxen lumbered forward, pulling the plough through the dark loamy soil.

  William walked back to the village. He needed to talk to someone about what he’d learned; he needed advice. And no one seemed more likely to be able to help him sort this all out than Rhosyn.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Rhosyn was in the stillroom, going through her supply of herbs and trying to decide which ones she needed to replenish before winter, when she heard William call out her name. Leaving the stillroom, she saw him standing inside the door. Her heartbeat quickened and her every sense grew more acute. She knew an intense longing to go to him and let him pull her into an embrace.

  She controlled herself and stopped a few paces away, then waited for him to tell her why he had come. His expression was troubled, and she felt a sense of relief. He had not come to discuss their future; something else was bothering him.

  “I think Hearne is the spy.” He met her gaze, the frown lines between his eyes deepening. “A villein named William told me he saw Hearne talking to several Welsh warriors. This was before the fire and the raids. The villein, William, said he mentioned the incident to a dark-haired knight, likely Rollo.”

  He turned away and went to the hearth. Rhosyn had recently made a fire there to heat water for steeping decoctions. William picked up a stick from her basket of kindling and poked at the flickering flames. “How can I prove it? And, once I do, what action do I take? Hearne appears to be gone. Do I track him down and bring him back here to question and punish? Let it go and say good riddance? Knowing he might, like Rollo, be bent on vengeance and return to wreak havoc?” He turned to face her. “What would you advise?”

  “I have been thinking. Perhaps it is time to set up a meeting with Ifan ap Emrys and find out where he stands. And what he knows about his sons and their alliances.”

  “God’s bones, I don’t want to go back to Wales and get involved in their politics again! We were fortunate to get away with everyone alive and well last time.”

  “I could go.”

  He looked horrified. “Cynan might take you hostage before you got anywhere near his father. I can’t risk that. I can’t risk losing you!” He closed the space between them, his blue eyes bright with yearning. She felt certain he was going to pull her into his arms. She took a tiny step back. That slight movement made him hesitate. Or maybe it was the expression on her face. She was fighting desperately to remain cool and aloof. ’Tis better this way. I can’t let your kisses and caresses diminish my resolve.

  He watched her, his blue eyes bright with yearning. She felt herself wavering beneath his intense gaze. This was too hard. I need him like I need air to breathe.

  Her resistance melted away. They both stepped forward at the same time, dissolving into each other’s arms.

  Magic. Perfection. Their bodies fit together like two halves of a whole.

  For long moments they embraced, letting the comfort and satisfaction of being close wash over them. Slowly, another kind of spark between them caught and blazed. Their hands grew restless, giving in to the urge to stroke and caress. Their mouths met in a deep kiss that left them gasping.

  William pulled away, but she knew it was only because he was considering where they could go to make love. He motioned to the bed in the loft. She nodded. Her resolve to keep her distance had been completely destroyed.

  Although she did have one final twinge of warning. While at Merion’s farm, she had run out of the mixture of herbs she took to prevent a babe. If she bedded him now and he did not pull out, it was possible she might conceive.

  She forced the thought aside. This one time she would be reckless. It might be the last chance she had to make love with William in her cottage on her bed. The cottage she would have to give up if she left Higham. Grief shafted through her at the thought. Again, she told herself she would not consider the future. There was only this moment and William. Dear William.

  The cottage always seemed much too small for him. In the loft, he was a giant. He could not even stand up fully, and immediately sat down on the platform bed. He began to undress. Rhosyn followed his lead, as eager for their coupling as he was.

  She undid the laces on the sides of her bliaut and pulled it over her head, then watched him in fascination as he drew off his tunic. Her gaze lingered on his massive shoulders and sculpted, muscular chest. He leaned down to remove his boots, then undid the drawstring of his braies and drew them down to reveal his flat belly and lean hips, the loincloth barely covering his upthrust shaft.

  Seeing him naked always aroused a sense of wonder. His body was so different from hers. So enticing. Still wearing her shift, she moved to stand between his legs and their mouths met. His hands went around her waist. As the kiss continued, his fingers cupped her breasts. A fire grew deep in her core. It flared along her intimate parts, leaving a trail of hot moisture and making her whole body feel alive with tingling warmth.

  She was so ready. So very ready. Later there would be time for slow, subtle foreplay and lingering caresses. Now, she wanted to be joined with him. She ached for it. Perhaps her kisses grew more urgent or he could feel the restless energy coursing through her. Somehow he knew it was time. He broke off the kiss and grabbed the bottom of her shift, drew it up and over her head and dropped it to the floor. His gaze moved over her, caressing her with his eyes. Then he leaned near and began to mouth her breasts. Shivers of delight quivered through her as he sucked and kissed and licked. Her arousal increased until she was moaning and trembling with need. When she felt as if she could stand no more, he lay down on the bed, grasped her hand and drew her down on top of him.

 
; Hot skin against hot skin. The delicious feel of his shaft against one of her thighs. She wriggled against him, making him moan. Then she reached down to touch him. Her hand closed around his phallus, so firm and alive, silky skin and solid flesh. She watched his face as she touched him. His eyes were half closed. His face taut, like a man being tortured. And yet she knew the torture for what it was, a pleasure so keen it was almost unendurable.

  She took pity on him, and on herself, knowing that neither of them could hold back much longer. Instead of lying on her back so he could get on top of her, she adjusted her body so her hips arced over him and began to guide his shaft into her eager, aching sheathe. An inch. Another. She wriggled, adjusting her body. The pressure grew. She met his gaze, begging for completion. He thrust up, impaling her deep. Locked together, the journey began. A wild ride to paradise.

  *

  He was lost in dizzying, thrilling sensation, so extreme it took his breath away. Primal rhythms urged his body on, seeking even more dazzling heights, urging him to some pinnacle of fulfillment. Holding onto Rhosyn tightly, he rolled them both over until he was on top of her. Together, they rode the crests of pleasure. Like one being, their spirits entwined as they sought their goal.

  He heard her soft moan of satisfaction as he found his own ecstatic release. Floating down from the heavens, their bodies still joined, he savored the closeness. The feel of her body beneath his. Ah. Paradise.

  Then he realized he might be squashing her and rolled off to lay on his back beside her. He drew her close and she cuddled up next to him. “If we died right now, I would be content.”

  “Nay, don’t speak of it.” She sat up and pressed her fingers against his lips.

  He pulled her near to kiss her, then stared up at her lovely face, as if he could memorize each curve and hollow, every speck of gold in the wheel of the iris of her brown eyes. Every dainty black eyelash. The silken sheen of her dusky skin as if it was dusted with silver. The perfect shape of her mouth, as ripe and delicious as a summer strawberry. The elegant lines of her cheekbones, tapering down to her slightly pointed chin.