Breath of Heaven (17 page)

Rhys gritted his teeth and thought of disgusting things: uncovered trenches full of shite; maggoty wounds; rotten teeth, and pustules. Anything to keep him from throwing her down and having his way with her again. He would not touch her until she was ready. Until she wanted him in the same way that he wanted her.

He brushed her fingers aside and she knelt back, her emerald eyes black in the darkness. Was she watching him? Could she see his lust? He dropped his cross garters and she moved behind him. He wore a leather jerkin over his tunic and he loosened the buckles as his body waited, coiled and tense, knotted in dread and anticipation at what she would do next. She lifted the heavy leather from his shoulders, set it aside, and then placed her hands on his upper arms. She moved them down until she found the hem of his tunic and lifted. Rhys raised his arms as she gently removed the tunic and set it in place with his jerkin.

Her hands touched his shoulders again and she bent to his ear. “I am sorry that I am not versed in the proper way to disarm a husband. I will do my best to please you if you will have patience with my feeble attempts.”

If only she knew how well she disarmed him. She clenched her fingers into his muscles, sensing the tension gathered across his back and neck. Her hands were strong, and he felt her touch down into his very bones. His head lolled forward and he sighed, deeply, at her ministrations. No one in his lifetime had ever given him such tender care. He felt his worries slowly fade away and thought that he might just be able to sleep, until she leaned into him and he felt the brush of her breasts against his back. He straightened.

“It is cold and I must seek my rest.” His voice seemed bitter to his ears, snappish…but the words were spoken and he could not change the tone any more than he could alter the words themselves.

She went to the bed and slid beneath the coverings. He had no choice but to follow. He did not remove his chainse or chausses. She would think it was because of the cold; he knew it was because he needed barriers between them.

Eliane lay on her side facing the tent wall. He would have the warmth of the brazier behind him, but he would also be between her and anyone who came in during the night. Such choices a husband was required to make. Which was more important, the bit of warmth the coals would give or the amount of time he could give her to escape if there was an attack? He grabbed his sword and placed it on the floor next to the mattress.

He slid in behind her and lay on his back so he could see the shadows that crossed between the fire and the door of their tent. He was certain sleep would elude him, so he would watch. He would not put it
past Renauld to attack them again before they reached the protection of the king.

As soon as he pulled the coverings up over them, her feet found their way to his calf and worked their way beneath it. She wore heavy woolen socks, but he could feel the chill in her feet.

“Your feet are like ice,” he whispered.
I promised to keep you warm
…

“I am sorry,” she said. “I was trying to put them beneath Llyr.”

Rhys looked down at the dog that stretched across the end of the mattress. Her idea had merit. He pushed his own feet beneath the heavy mass and instantly felt the warmth provided by the huge dog.

“He is proving useful,” he admitted, and she released a low tinkle of laughter. Both Khati and Mathias stirred at the sound and she quieted. His body still reacted to her nearness, so he thought about all the things that would come on the morrow and the day after.

“Rhys?” she asked softly after a few moments. “May I ask you a question?” Her face was shadowed in the darkness, yet her eyes held the glow of the coals.

He turned his head her way. “Do not fear to ask anything of me.”

A faint shadow of a smile flitted across her lips. “You said that if not for Renauld we never would have met. How could that be possible?”

He turned his body to face her so his voice would not carry to the two who slept on the floor. Llyr groaned at the disruption but stayed in his place. “Did your father not tell you the story?”

“No. I know only that he saved your life, not the why or the how. Was Renauld there?”

“He was,” Rhys said. “We were both squires for Lord Allen. Renauld was older and stronger—he made a point of bullying me whenever he got the chance. He took my food, my blankets, did whatever he could to make my life miserable. He pushed me into the mud that day, hoping I would drown.”

“He has a devil inside him,” Eliane said when he was done.

“My grandmother said the same of me,” he reminded her.

“Nay…you are not the same. Not at all.” Her mouth stretched into a yawn and she shivered once more.

“Enough of Renauld, lest he haunt you in your dreams,” he said. “Sleep now.”

She yawned again, turned onto her back, and then with a sigh, rolled to face the other way. Her movement had closed the distance between them, and her backside nestled up against him. His arm moved of its own accord around her and she let out a contented sigh.

Open trenches…maggoty wounds
…

Her breathing deepened and he realized she had fallen asleep. His left arm was trapped beneath him, so he moved it under her pillow, trying his best not to disturb her until he was able to bring it across her chest and pull her as close as possible. She nestled deeper within his arms and Rhys tucked her head beneath his chin. He let the fresh scent of her hair wash over him. How could one smell of springtime when it was the dead of winter? Yet she did. The fragile tip of her ear
peeked between the strands of her hair. He resisted the urge to kiss it. He did not want to wake her.

The members of court were bound to be curious about her. There would be questions. They would want to know what her reported deformity was. There were those who would hide in corners and spy on her just so they would be the first to know.

I will protect you as best I can
…Thank God, Peter’s wife had had the foresight to send the wimple. ‘Twould be a shame to cover her glorious hair.

He would leave before she awakened, because he knew what state he’d be in come morning. For now he would just enjoy the closeness. This thing that was called marriage. Peter had told him there were benefits. Was watching one’s wife sleep one of them? Having a warm body to help you fight the cold? Knowing that someone trusted you enough to let you hold her when she was most vulnerable? Mayhap he should have his own talk with Peter come tomorrow and see what advice his friend could give him about being a husband. The thought was uppermost in his mind as he drifted off, content with Eliane in his arms.

S
he woke suddenly, chasing the wisp of a dream, her mind quickly trying to identify where she was. Something struck her, grazed her arm, and she froze until the flickering light of the fire beyond the wall of the tent reminded her where she was. She had never left home before. It was a strange feeling, waking and not knowing where one was, especially when one was not used to sharing a bed.

“Can’t…breathe…” Rhys tossed his head beside her. One arm was beneath her, and he jerked it. His movements were agitated. He pushed at the coverings with the other as he flopped onto his back.

Quickly she moved to face him. She placed her hand on his cheek. “Rhys. ’Tis just a dream.”

His eyes opened. He blinked. He sat up so fast that he knocked her away and she fell against the pillows. He snatched up his sword from the floor beside the bed and stood, ready to defend or attack, whichever was necessary. He looked around the tent, searching for the threat, but there was nothing there except Llyr, who growled deep in his throat, and Khati and Mathias, who stirred uneasily in their sleep. Eliane raised a hand to stop Llyr. If Llyr saw Rhys as a threat and attacked, Rhys would kill him before he realized what he was doing.

Rhys looked toward Llyr, and then turned to her.
“Eliane?” His face was haunted by the specters that had visited him in his sleep. Did they come often? Did they plague him much? Her heart swelled with tenderness for the little boy who’d been left in the mud to drown and would have if not for her father’s grace.

“You were dreaming.”

He returned his sword to its place and rubbed a hand over his face before he sat down on the mattress.

“What was your dream?” Madwyn often told her to speak of her dreams, as if they were the keys to understanding the happenings of the day more clearly.

The coals within the brazier had died and her breath showed in the bitter cold. Eliane pulled a fur over her shoulders. Rhys leaned forward, his arms across his knees and his head lowered on them. He seemed so vulnerable. Not at all the strong warrior who had slain so many to protect her just a few days past. What further battles would come when they arrived at court?

The story he’d told her about Renauld was horrible. But he’d spoken of it as if it were nothing. To be so young, so alone, and the subject of such brutality. Drowning in mud. It seemed as if Renauld always targeted the helpless. Puppies and small lonely boys. Thank God her father had been there to save Rhys. Thank God her father had seen the honor in him, evident when he was naught but a boy. It could have been so easy for Rhys to choose not to honor his promise to her father. He might never have written to her father. He could have dallied instead of answering the summons. He could have taken the easy way and disregarded the man who’d saved his life; instead he chose to honor the man and the promise he’d made to him.

“Were you dreaming of the mud?” She placed a hand on his back and felt him flinch. Was it so painful for him to be touched by her? He worked so hard to avoid her, only touching her when it was necessary or when someone watched them. She pulled her hand away. She’d only meant to comfort him, just as she had done when she rubbed his shoulders. Still, he rejected her touch. She was a disappointment to him as a wife, and especially as a woman. What else could it be?

Yet he warmed me…held me when I was cold…He shows nothing but tenderness where I am concerned.
If only Madwyn could have made this journey with her. There had been too little time for her to ask questions, for her to learn what it was to be a wife.

He sat up, his resolve once solid, unyielding. “It will be dawn soon. Peter wants an early start.” Rhys left the bed, taking his warmth with him. “It seems he is most anxious to see his wife.” Was that bitterness in his voice? He shivered as he picked up his things, hastily pulling on his tunic, lacing his cross garters, pulling on his boots. He kept his face hidden, looking anywhere but at the bed and at her.

To Eliane the night seemed as black as it was when they fell asleep. Dawn surely was a long way off. There was no light beyond the walls of the tent save the flickering of the campfire. Rhys placed his cloak over his shoulders and gathered his weapons. He started to leave but stopped when he noticed the coals had gone out in the brazier.

He knelt before it, placed a knot of wood and some tinder inside, and blew into the coals. The flames came to life and illuminated his profile; his strong jaw, covered with a stubble of dark beard, his full bottom
lip, his straight nose, his broad forehead with its arched brows. His dark hair brushed against his shoulders and fell across his face as he leaned forward to check the heat before he closed the grate. “ ‘Twill keep you warm,” he said with a glance in her direction. “Sleep some more. I will wake you when it is time.”

He left and to her surprise, Llyr went after him.
Traitor
…She felt terribly alone. She longed for the comfort of Aubregate, of her big bed in the tower, the familiar sounds of the keep, the knowledge that her father was below and all was well with the world. She missed Madwyn and Han, Matilde and Ammon. She was going to a strange place where no one knew her. Where they would look at her with disdain because of her ears. Where she would be nothing more than a pawn in a rivalry between Renauld and Rhys.
Could wedding vows be put aside by the king?

She should have run to the forest and hidden where she would never be found. Instead she was here, freezing and terribly alone. Eliane shivered at the cold and burrowed under the blankets and furs, seeking what heat Rhys had left behind, knowing that when it came time to wake once more, he would send Khati to her. She’d failed miserably as a bride and had no one but herself to blame for it.

Eliane woke the second day of the journey as she had the day before. Alone. Once more Rhys had joined her in the bed after everyone else was asleep, as if lying with her was the last resort. Yet she felt his presence in the night, felt him gather her in his arms to warm her, felt his soft breath against her ear as he held her. But
when she woke in the morning, he was gone, causing her to wonder if she had only dreamed about him.

Today she would meet the king. They would be in his presence before dinner this eve. Rhys had made use of Jess and sent him ahead with a message to assure Henry that he was indeed on his way and most anxious to appear before his liege with his new wife. Jess had returned with an answering message. Rhys and his bride were to come directly to the king as soon as they reached the city. There was no mention of congratulations, or of the king’s favor. Rhys made no comment about the message, merely read it to her and bade her dress in her most formal attire for their meeting with the king.

Khati handled the thing called a wimple with some trepidation while Eliane pulled on her best pair of boots. They were dark brown leather and came to midcalf. She had green slippers embroidered with gold thread that matched her gown, but the boots would be more practical. They had not yet reached London, and even though the roads were clear of snow here, they were still messy. There would be no time for her to change beforehand. Everything must be perfect now. She also slipped one of her daggers into a sheath especially sewn into the lining of her boots and her jeweled dagger into her gold chain belt. She would not go unarmed, especially when she did not know what to expect. It mattered not that she would be in the presence of the king. Rhys expected Renauld to be there.

Eliane smoothed the skirt of her dark green velvet bliaut. Beneath it she wore pale gold in the softest wool. The hem and wide sleeves of the dark green
were embroidered with gold thread in an intricate design of stags and trees. The colors and the pattern symbolized Aubregate. It reminded her of her purpose, to protect the land at all costs.

Elaine fumbled with the clasp of the heavy crucifix that had come to her from her father’s family. Khati ceased her examination of the wimple and fastened the chain about her neck. Her father had been orphaned while a squire and only possessed a few items of value, the cross being one of them. It hung heavy against her breastbone and seemed to weigh her down, yet she wanted to wear it, because it had belonged to him. Rhys now wore her father’s ring of emerald and gold. She twisted the one he’d given her about her finger and wondered if there was some tale behind it. The band was quite plain, as it was not embellished with a stone, yet she found that it suited her much better than a heavy ring. She forgot she wore it at times, until it caught her eye, and then she would study the intricate carving and melding of silver and gold and marvel at the artistry.

Khati smoothed her long braid. “It seems a shame to cover your hair.”

Eliane shrugged. “It must be done. If my ears are discovered, it will only lead to unpleasant questions. It is a risk we cannot take.”

“Milord de Remy will not care for it,” Khati said.

“Why do you think so?” Eliane looked over her shoulder at Khati as the maid tied a piece of ribbon about the end of her braid.

“Do you not notice how he looks at you? How he touches your hair every chance he gets?”

No, she had not. She only noticed that he did not
touch her or kiss her as he had done at first. Yet, when thinking on it, she knew there were instances when he would pick up a lock of her hair and rub it between his fingers. There were times when she would turn and his eyes would be upon her, with a strange look in them.

“As much as I desire to please my husband, I must wear it, Khati,” she said. “There are many travelers on the road who would carry tales to the king, and I would not have the secrets of Aubregate revealed.”

Khati put the linen veil in place over her hair and brought the fabric strap beneath her chin before tying it in place on the side. Eliane put her hands on it. “I would much rather wear my wool cap. I feel as if a stiff wind will take me into the sky.”

“Do you think that whoever decreed this a fashion suffered from an overabundance of chins and found this the best way to hide them?” Khati’s voice held a hint of laughter. Unlike her mistress, she was excited about seeing the city and all it held.

“I am certain it is so,” Rhys said from behind them. He’d entered the tent without Eliane’s noticing. How much had he heard? He walked to where she sat upon a stool and flipped up the end of the fabric. A wry smile flitted across his lips. He was dressed in the same clothing he’d worn for their wedding. A tunic of dark burgundy over a white linen chainse and gray chausses with black boots. His hair was damp and neatly brushed back from his face, and his jaw was smooth and clear of stubble. He was very handsome and well he knew it.
Father asked me if there was anyone I would choose. I wonder if he asked the same of Rhys.
Was there a woman waiting for him to return? Would her heart be
broken when she learned of his marriage? Sliding the knife into her boot had been the right decision. Knowing it was there steeled her resolve for what was to come.

“Is my dress appropriate for meeting the king?” Eliane rose from the stool so that he might see her costume better. He looked her over, from head to toe, his gaze lingering long on her face. Her hand went to the wimple, its feel strange upon her head and beneath her chin. She resisted the urge to stick her finger beneath the band.

“The king will be swept away by your beauty,” he said. She studied his face and saw that he spoke what he believed to be the truth, although his eyes seemed sad.

“Are you troubled, milord?”

He nodded. “Only about the usual things that a husband must deal with. I find that I now have many to provide for, where in the past the only needs I considered were mine own and sometimes Mathias’s.” His tone said he was teasing her.

Still, Eliane did not want him to be burdened by their care. “I have brought funds,” she began.

“Fear not, Eliane,” he assured her. “That is the least of my troubles. There are things we must discuss before we arrive. Things you should know about life at court. We will talk as we ride. Cedric will follow with the cart and meet us later. It would be best if Llyr stayed with him also.”

Eliane nodded her agreement. She would have to tie the dog to keep him from following her.

Rhys interrupted her thoughts. “I think it best if we find a house in London instead of staying at court.”

It pleased her that he included her in his plans, but his idea gave her some concern.

“Will the king permit it?” There was much she did not know about court life. It seemed Rhys felt some trepidation about their visit.
How long will we have to stay?
Renting a house seemed to indicate a lengthy stay. She had hoped to return to Aubregate before the spring planting. Once more she realized that her will was no longer her own.
My people are depending upon me
…

“He will if I ask in the proper way and remind him of your father’s devotion.” He held up his left hand and her father’s ring. “This should help to remind him.”

Khati placed her cloak around Eliane’s shoulders. Rhys looked remorsefully at her head. “I would throw that in the fire if anything else could serve the purpose so well.”

“Should I?” she teased him, placing her hand against the fabric as if she would snatch it off.

“Nay.” His eyes were gentle on her face. “I fear it would only make your beauty more evident and therefore a target of those who are not as blessed.”

She smiled at his words.
He thinks me beautiful.
She would remember his words when she saw the women at court and hoped that he still thought them true.

Rhys led her from the tent to where their horses waited. “A sidesaddle?” Eliane asked when she saw Aletha. “For me?” Peter had the sense to turn his head, yet she saw his shoulders shake with laughter.

“Cedric said there was one in the stable, so I bade him bring it.”

“Are all ladies of the court so helpless that they cannot ride astride? It is safer than sliding off,” she
protested. Why should she suddenly change the way she sat her horse? She understood the need to hide her ears, but riding sidesaddle?