Читать книгу Castle of the Wolf - Margaret Moore - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Tamsin knew she should protest. Make him stop. Push him away. Call out the guards if need be. Sir Rheged shouldn’t be kissing her or embracing her in the dark. She was a lady. She was betrothed.

Yet she did not resist him. She could not. Not when his kiss gentled and his strong arms slid around her as if offering her sanctuary.

Not even when her empty basket fell unheeded to the ground and he opened the door behind him. Nor when he drew her into the deeper darkness of the woolshed, where the bundles of bound wool seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting with soft sighs as his lips found hers again.

But this thrilling embrace couldn’t last, because duty must be done, or more than she would suffer.

Putting her hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back. “Stop,” she commanded, her voice low and firm despite the quiver she couldn’t suppress. “Please. Stop.”

“As you wish, if that is what you truly wish,” he replied, his deep voice like a caress in the darkness.

No, she didn’t wish it, but it must and would be so. “It is.”

“Very well. But something upset you before this, something that happened during the melee, or shortly afterward. Please, for my sake if not your own, tell me, and if I can help you, allow me that honor.”

To have such a man make such an offer, at such a time, in such a voice, was nearly enough to make her weep. But she must not weaken. Nevertheless she simply couldn’t resist the urge to tell him what her uncle had done. “I have been betrothed.”

“Ah,” he sighed, and she could read nothing in that long exhalation. “To whom?”

“Sir Blane of Dunborough.”

He started as if she’d struck him. “That dog?”

His response, so like a curse, nearly undid her. But she had to be strong and do what she must, for Mavis’s sake—and this man could not know her true feelings. After all, in spite of what he’d said about his knightly duty, there was nothing he could do. “I must remind you that you’re speaking of a nobleman, and my betrothed.”

“I know who he is,” Rheged replied. “I know what he is. Does your uncle? Do you?”

“I’ve met him.”

“And yet you’d marry him?”

“I’ve agreed to do so,” she answered, although now more than ever she wished she’d refused.

“You said you’ve met Blane. Where?”

“Here, if it is any of your business—and it’s not,” she tartly replied.

“Not at his castle, then. You haven’t witnessed him in his own household. You haven’t seen how terrified his men and servants are of him—and with good cause. He’s the most vicious, evil tyrant I’ve ever met. His sons, save one, are little better, and even Roland quarrels constantly with his brothers. Marry Blane, and you’ll be walking into a nest of vipers at war with one another.”

God help her if this was so, and yet she must marry Blane. For Mavis’s sake she had agreed, and for Mavis’s sake, she must honor that pledge.

And she had to get away from Rheged. It would do her no good to listen to him. To be with him. To let him take her in his arms and kiss her passionately.

Yet it seemed as if every muscle in her body had turned to water when she tried to leave. She stumbled and nearly fell, until Rheged took hold of her shoulders to steady her.

“I don’t say these things to frighten you, my lady,” he said quietly, his gaze searching her face. “I seek only to warn you, and protect you. If you don’t believe what I’ve said about Blane, ask some of the other guests here about him. Even if they praise him, they will hesitate before they do, and the hesitation will tell you that I speak the truth.” His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Whatever your uncle’s promised, you have the right to refuse. You cannot, by law, be compelled to marry.”

It was like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man who must choose whether to grab it himself or save the one member of his family who loved him, and whom he loved. “Let go of me, Sir Rheged.”

He did, and then he moved to block the door. “I have talked with priests on my travels about many things. I’m as certain as I’m standing here that you cannot be forced to marry against your will.”

She believed him, yet if he spoke the truth about Blane, it was more important than ever that she marry him and not Mavis.

So Tamsin straightened her shoulders and faced Rheged squarely. “Did I say I was being forced? Did I complain the betrothal was without my consent? I am going to marry a rich man who will give me rank and a comfortable household, as well as create an alliance between my uncle and a man with power in the north.”

“Who will make your life a living hell.”

“What woman doesn’t want a household of her own, and children?” she demanded, even though the thought of sharing Sir Blane’s bed filled her with revulsion. “As for his alleged evil, surely you don’t think my uncle would—”

“I think your uncle will do whatever he thinks will serve his own ends,” Rheged interrupted, “and I think you, my lady, know that far better than I.”

“So you say. But I may find it easier to please a husband than my uncle.”

“How? In his bed? I doubt any woman has ever found happiness in Blane’s bed.”

“No doubt you would prefer I shared yours.” She forced away the sudden, vivid image of being in Rheged’s bed, in his arms, loving him and being loved, just like her dream last night. “You have a novel method of seduction, I grant you, but it will not succeed with me.”

“I don’t want to seduce you,” he retorted. “I truly wish to help you, my lady.”

His sincerely spoken words made it all the more difficult for her to pretend to be unmoved by his offer, and his compassion. “I thank you for your concern, sir knight,” she said, keeping her voice cold, “but my fate is my own business, so unless you intend to keep me here against my will, you will let me go.”

“Leave, then,” he replied just as coldly, obviously angry now and with good cause—or so she thought until she put her hand on the latch.

“If you change your mind,” he said with a quiet, yet firm, resolve, “send word to Cwm Bron and I will come for you and take you anywhere you choose to go, whether to a friend, or a relative’s or a convent—any place of sanctuary where your uncle cannot compel you to marry against your will.”

She had to get away from him before her resolve crumbled into dust, yet she couldn’t go without some sign that she was grateful. That she appreciated and cherished his offer. That she respected and admired him for more than his looks and prowess in battle, although those were considerable.

That she wished they had met in different circumstances. That she was free, or even a maidservant, so that she could go to his bed and no one would bat an eye.

So she kissed him. Passionately. Letting loose, for just this once, all the need and longing and desire he aroused within her.

Just this once, so she would have something to remember in the long, lonely nights to come.

Just this once, since she would surely find nothing but selfish, demanding lust in Sir Blane’s bed.

Just this once, to show Rheged how she truly felt while he held her close and his lips moved over hers with slow, sure deliberation and desire.

Nevertheless this kiss must end, lest she forget who and what she was, and what she had to do to keep her cousin safe. She simply could not succumb to the need and yearning coursing through her, no matter how much she wished he would lay her on the fleece and have his pleasure of her, for loving him would surely give her pleasure, too.

She forced herself to release him. “We will forget we ever met here, Sir Rheged, and we will not speak of my marriage again. Now I give you good night, sir, and may you have a safe journey home.”

“My lady—”

“Enough, Sir Rheged!” she cried, her words a plea as much as an order. “I will marry Sir Blane and you will go back to Cwm Bron.” Her voice softened. “It must be so, my lord, so please respect my wishes.”

“Very well, my lady, and may you have more joy in your marriage than I foresee,” he replied as she opened the door and left him.

* * *

Rheged slumped back against one of the large bundles of wool. Perhaps the lady truly did want to marry a man of wealth and position, regardless of who he was, or the toll it might take upon her. If so, that was her decision, and he must abide by it.

He went to open the door, then hesitated. He was sure no one had been watching when he called out her name and that they’d been shielded from prying eyes in the doorway. Nevertheless it might be wise to wait awhile yet before leaving. It could mean trouble for them both if people knew they’d been together in the woolshed, even for a short time.

With a sigh, he climbed onto the bundles of fleece and stretched out, sinking down with a sigh. He would to stay here a little longer. After all, he’d wanted to save her from her troubles, not add to them.

* * *

Still holding the empty basket, Tamsin hurried to the small chamber she shared with Mavis. She didn’t go back to the kitchen where a host of servants would be, nor to the hall, where all the lords and ladies were still gathered. She ran like a frightened deer or a mouse that sees a cat to the servants’ stairs leading to the family chambers. Mercifully she met no one as she dashed up the steps, or in the corridor. Panting, she opened the door—to find her cousin already there, her hands clasped anxiously before her and a worried expression on her lovely face.

Mavis’s expression grew even more concerned as she looked from Tamsin’s startled visage to the empty basket in her hands.

“I was so busy thinking about all the guests leaving tomorrow, I forgot to return this,” Tamsin said, her excuse sounding weak even to herself.

“I was right—you are ill!” Mavis cried, taking the basket from Tamsin and setting it down on the nearby dressing table. “You’re flushed and out of breath and you were so quiet during the feast.”

“I’m not usually a font of merriment,” Tamsin noted with a smile only slightly forced as she picked up a taper and stuck it in the brazier warming the small chamber. “I was thinking about the cook. Armond may have to go. He struck the spit boy, and if he does it again—”

“I’ve seen you worried about household matters many times before, and this is different,” Mavis interrupted, blocking Tamsin’s way as she went to light the rushlight beside Mavis’s curtained bed. Tamsin’s smaller cot was on the other side of the room, along with the small chest that held her few gowns. Mavis’s clothes were in a much larger chest at the foot of her bed.

Mavis put her hand on Tamsin’s forehead before she could move away. “No fever, thank God, but you must go to bed and rest before you fall seriously ill. I’ll do what must be done tomorrow while you rest—and I won’t allow you to refuse!” she added, looking as stern as it was possible for cheerful, pretty Mavis to look.

Which was not nearly so stern as Sir Rheged. But Tamsin would not, must not, think of him. And it would be better if she kept busy tomorrow, away from the guests.

“I’m quite all right,” she replied, moving farther into the room.

“No, you’re not,” her cousin insisted. “Something is wrong.” She went to Tamsin and put her hands on her shoulders, turning her to face her, her anxious gaze searching Tamsin’s face. “Please, Tamsin, won’t you tell me? I come to you with all my troubles, as if you were my sister. Won’t you treat me like a sister and tell me yours?”

If she had demanded the truth, Tamsin would have resisted. But this tender, heartfelt plea, from the cousin who had been the only one to welcome her with kindness when she first came to Castle DeLac, and from whom she would soon be parted, proved irresistible. “Your father was going to wait until tomorrow to make the announcement.”

Mavis’s blond eyebrows drew together in a query as Tamsin forced another smile onto her face. Mavis must never know what her father had threatened if Tamsin refused the betrothal. Mavis was a loving, loyal soul and Tamsin didn’t doubt that she would insist on taking Tamsin’s place if she knew the truth. “I am to be married.”

“Married?” Mavis repeated, as shocked as Tamsin had been. Or Sir Rheged. And no doubt as everyone else in Castle DeLac would be, too, when the news got out. “When? To whom? Is it one of the visiting knights? Sir Jocelyn?”

“No, it’s—”

“Not young Sir Robert. He’s barely twenty.”

“It isn’t one of our guests. It’s Sir Blane of Dunborough.”

“Sir Blane of...” Mavis repeated. Then her eyes widened and a look of horror came to her face. “Not that terrible old lecher! It made my skin crawl just to look at him! Surely Father wouldn’t be so cruel!”

Tamsin drew herself and spoke as she had to Sir Rheged, with pride and resolve, so that Mavis would believe her. “He’s rich and powerful. It’s a much better match than I could have hoped for.”

“But you yourself saw the way he went after the maidservants. If you hadn’t kept them—and me—away from him—”

“Surely once he has a new, young wife he won’t want to dally with servants.”

“I don’t think marriage would ever stop a man like him from trying to take advantage of any woman. And he wouldn’t have a wife,” Mavis said. “He would have you. You would be in that disgusting old man’s bed, Tamsin.”

Better her than Mavis, Tamsin thought, her cousin’s compassionate concern making it all the more necessary that she wed Sir Blane. “I’m aware of a wife’s duties—all of them,” she said, meeting her cousin’s gaze with all the cool composure she could muster.

“It may not be pleasant, but if I’m to have children, I will do what I must, and I do want children,” she continued, trying not to imagine little boys with flashing brown eyes and dark hair, or little girls with thick lashes and long, waving black hair.

She took Mavis’s hands in hers. “This may be the only way I’ll ever have a household and children of my own. I’ll no longer be a beggar at my uncle’s table, a glorified servant who must be grateful for every mouthful.”

Mavis regarded her questioningly for a long moment, until at last she lowered her head and pulled her hands free. “If that’s how you feel, Tamsin, then I must be happy for you, and wish you well on your betrothal.”

“Thank you, my cousin, who is more than a sister to me,” Tamsin said, embracing her.

Mavis threw her arms about her and hugged her close.

* * *

Rheged awoke to pitch-darkness and the scent of wool. God’s blood, he’d fallen asleep in the woolshed.

He rolled off the bundle and onto his feet at once. Moving his stiff arms, he bent his knees and straightened, then brushed any bits of fleece from his tunic before raking his fingers through his hair.

He opened the door and peered into the yard. It was barely dawn, the yard empty and quiet, with only the footfalls of the guards on the walk to break the silence. Like a shadow, Rheged crept out of the shed and along the wall, stealthily making his way back to his quarters, more glad than ever that he had a chamber to himself.

On the other hand, he thought as he slipped through the outer door into the guest quarters, he might not be the only man sneaking into his chamber in the wee hours of the morning. If anyone saw him, they would likely think he’d been sporting with one of the servants, like that pretty wench with the pert nose who’d spent most of the feast near the squires. Nevertheless he was relieved to get to his chamber without encountering anyone else.

Once there, he checked to make sure his prize was safe, washed, changed his clothes and packed his belongings, including his mail, helmet, plain surcoat devoid of any devices or crest, and gambeson, the padded garment worn beneath his mail. That done, he went to the hall to break the fast.

The only people in the large chamber were some servants cleaning after last night’s feast, a few soldiers finishing their early meal of bread and ale and the hounds. Tamsin was not there, nor were any of the guests, Lady Mavis or Lord DeLac. No doubt the lords and ladies were still abed.

As one of the maidservants—not that pretty pert one, but an older one—brought him bread and ale, stifling a yawn as she did so, he told himself to be glad Tamsin wasn’t there. She had made her feelings quite clear, so there was nothing more to say to her.

Trying to put Tamsin from his thoughts, he ate slowly, savoring the excellent bread and fine ale, better than anything he would have at his own castle. He watched with hidden amusement as some of the other knights and squires stumbled into the hall, clearly the worse for feasting too much and too long last night. None of the ladies appeared.

That was to be expected, he supposed. But he did hope to see Tamsin bustling about, giving orders and seeing that all was well later, when he was preparing to depart. Yet he never so much as caught a glimpse of her in the hall, the guest quarters or the courtyard.

It was as if Tamsin had disappeared off the face of the earth. Or been locked away.