Breath of Heaven (7 page)

R
hys stretched mightily in the luxurious bed he’d been shown to the night before. He sighed in contentment and tossed a pillow at Mathias, who still slept heavily on a pallet before the fireplace. The lazy twit should have been up already and heated the water for his bath. They both should have been up hours ago, but the weariness of their journey had caught up with them.

There had been no lady of the castle to greet them upon their arrival the night before. Neither Lord Edward nor his daughter was about. Whether they were asleep or missing, he was not told by the man-at-arms who allowed them entry. Rhys assumed that Lord Edward’s absence was due to his illness; still, the daughter should have appeared to welcome them.

Granted, they’d come late, guided by the crescent moon and the innumerable stars that reflected off the ice-encrusted snow. As they’d entered, Han had waved lazily at them from a comfortable pallet in the main chamber. That their guide was warm and well fed was of some annoyance to Rhys, especially since they’d been in Han’s company early this morning. Why could they not have taken the same route as Han? Did the woman who’d threatened him with her bow in the forest have anything to do with Han’s warning of yester morn? And did the man ever take off that blasted cap? He even wore it as he slept.

Mathias stirred and blinked heavily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Be up, lazabout,” Rhys said. “I require a bath, clean clothes, and food, preferably all served by someone more attractive than you.”

Edward’s daughter mayhap? Rhys had to admit that his curiosity was piqued. Especially since she had not greeted them last night. It was part of the lady’s duties to greet guests, offer to bathe them and clothe them. Unless her deformity was such that she was unable to perform such duties? It was all very puzzling, as was the reason for Edward’s summons.

Mathias stumbled up from his pallet. He stretched, yawned, scratched, and hitched up his chausses over his bony backside. He then knelt before the fire and added a few sticks of wood to bring it roaring back to life. The addition of a log made the flames pop and crackle, and a warm glow soon filled the room. The squire leaned back on his heels and briskly rubbed his bare arms to warm them.

Rhys looked at the pale white skin of Mathias’s thin back as the boy flexed his shoulders to relieve the stiffness that came from sleeping on the floor. How long would it be before a scar marred that youthful skin? Rhys had been thirteen when he’d received his first wound in battle. An arrow had grazed his left arm—he was lucky the shaft had not pierced the muscle and left the arm useless.

He’d been lucky many more times in the innumerable small skirmishes he’d been involved with. None could really be called a war, although he’d been victorious in all. He had scars, across his back, on his side, and a particularly nasty one on his thigh where he’d
been run through with a sword. Lucky he’d not been crippled or lost a limb. Lucky he’d survived his many battles.

He considered himself extremely lucky that he had not died the day just past. There’d been no mistaking the threat in the woman’s emerald eyes just as there’d been no mistaking the fact that her ears were strangely pointed. The encounter seemed much more real to him now in the safety of the castle of Aubregate than it had when he’d come out of the forest. Very strange indeed. Should he mention it? Say that a woman with pointed ears had drawn a bow on him and threatened his very life while he lay with his arse freezing in a stream?

Mathias pulled on his chainse, tunic, and boots and left to do Rhys’s bidding. Rhys lay back beneath the furs and lazily contemplated a ray of sunlight that filtered through the curtains of his bed. Curtains that kept our the cold that penetrated the stone walls of the castle.

Aubregate’s riches were evident, but not ostentatious. The hangings on the bed frame were velvet and the rugs were thick and plush. The headboard was intricately carved, along with the posts that held the drapes around it. His mattress was well stuffed and without lumps, and his pillows smelled fresh and clean.

Hanging on the wall across from him was a tapestry unlike anything he’d ever seen before. It featured a woman of incredible beauty with long golden hair standing next to a pure white unicorn in a forest glade. The sunlight that pierced his bed hangings danced upon the tapestry, and golden threads woven throughout the maiden’s and the unicorn’s mane and tail glittered in the morning air along with a few careless dust motes.
He turned on his side and propped up his head with his arm to study it better.

It was evident the tapestry was very old, yet it seemed well cared for. Something about it made him sad, almost melancholy, as if he should have known the woman. As if he had missed something truly wonderful. Rhys shook his head at his thoughts. Another flight of fancy, just like the strange woman in the forest.

“Let us hope that I am indeed warm and dry in a bed and not freezing to death in some ditch,” he said as he threw back the blankets and furs and rose to meet the day. His shaft pointed ahead of him, aiming at the tapestry as if the woman there would relieve its need. He hoped there would be a solution to that problem with the arrival of his bath. After the lazy days at court and the abundance of willing partners, he was unaccustomed to going without.

And you still have to decide between Jane and Marcella…
That thought did nothing to banish his sudden bout of melancholy at all.

He had no more than wrapped a fur about his naked hips than the door burst open and a line of servants came in with a tray of food, steaming buckets of water, and a tub made of hammered copper.

Mathias brought up the rear with a wide grin on his face. “Just as you requested, milord,” he said.

Rhys cocked a questioning eyebrow at the servants. There was one somewhat dusky wench who carried the tray of food, but the rest were men. Unfortunately, the wench placed the tray upon a table, dipped a quick curtsey, and left while the men arranged the tub in front of the fireplace and poured the steaming buckets of water into it.

“Is this not as you requested, milord?” Mathias asked innocently. He stuck his tongue sideways in his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. “Did you not ask for someone other than me to bathe you?”

“I will beat you eventually,” Rhys said.

“Do you make a habit of beating your squire, milord?” a voice called out. Rhys turned to find a tall woman standing in the doorway holding a basket with soap, oils, and towels. She seemed older than he, yet her face was remarkably smooth except for a few lines around her mouth and her strikingly blue eyes. Her head was completely covered with a thick veil and a long blonde braid shot with silver hung down her back. Her clothing was simple, yet rich, a dark blue bliaut of velvet with intricate silver embroidery on the sleeves that flared at her elbows to reveal a lighter blue sheath beneath. The sleeves of the sheath tightly hugged her arms, ending past her wrists in points between her thumbs and fingers. A wide silver chain belt with a small dagger rode low on her hips. The artistry of both was exquisite. The dagger held a large blue sapphire much like the ruby in the hilt of his short sword.

The woman carried the basket past him, across to the tub, and set it on a small stool. Placing her hands on her hips, she turned to look at Rhys. The look she gave him was appraising, as her eyes swept from the top of his head, down his chest, over his hips, to slide down his legs, where his toes curled into the thick pile of the rug beneath his feet.

“Which do you require first?” she asked as the serving men left the room. “To break your fast or bathe?”

Rhys dropped the fur. “A bath,” he said, and strode casually to the tub.

She lifted an eyebrow as her sharp eyes took in everything about him and Rhys graced her with a smile, stepped into the tub, and sat down in the warm water. He could not help flinching as the heat seared his skin, especially the tender region between his thighs, but he kept his gaze upon the face above him. She might be older than he, but she was beautiful and he had found in the past that older women were most generous and ingenious in the art of lovemaking.

“Are you the lady of the castle?” he asked. He knew that Edward’s wife had died many years ago but had not heard whether he had ever remarried.

“No,” she said. “I am but a simple servant.” She held out a bar of soap for his approval. He sniffed it. Sandalwood, of course, with a hint of something else…pine possibly? He nodded his approval and she dipped it into the water along with a cloth and lathered them together. “My name is Madwyn,” she continued as she picked up his arm and began the process of scrubbing the days of travel from his body. “Milord and lady both bade me to apologize for their lack of hospitality this past eve. Milord is not well and milady and I were not present when you arrived.”

“Is your lady at home now?” His curiosity was once more piqued about Edward’s mysterious daughter. Mayhap she was hidden away in a convent where no one would see her.

“Yes,” Madwyn replied as she moved around the tub and started on his other side. “Milady Eliane and I returned early this morning. She is attending to the needs of Aubregate and her father. She will send word when he is ready to meet with you.”

Rhys reclined against the back of the tub with his
eyes closed while Madwyn went about the business of washing his body. The heat of the water spread into his muscles and relieved much of the tension he’d carried with him during the journey. The feel of the cloth sliding across the planes of his chest was pleasurable and Madwyn’s touch was firm, yet gentle. All in all, it was quite an enjoyable bath and he had high hopes of it leading to more pleasure before he met Lord Edward. Still, he was curious about the missing daughter. “Will the Lady Eliane be present when I meet with Lord Edward?” he asked.

The answer he got was a hot towel draped across the lower half of his face. He opened one eye to find Madwyn standing over him with a blade in her hand. “Shall I shave you?” she asked. The glint in her eye gave him pause and he heard Mathias smother a snort across the room.

Rhys was not one to back down from a challenge. He nodded his agreement and laid his head back against the rim of the tub to allow her blade access to his throat. Her hands were deft and sure and he could not help admiring the closeness of the shave when she finished.

“Mathias,” he said after she wiped the remnants of the soap from his face. “Did you lay out my best clothes?”

“Yes, milord,” he replied.

“Then go attend to Yorath,” he instructed. “Make sure he is content.”

“Milord?” Mathias questioned. The squire knew full well that his master’s horse was well cared for in the Aubregate stables.

“Go,” Rhys barked. The boy needed to learn
prudence, especially when his master wanted to be alone with a woman. “Now.” He heard the door close somewhat loudly behind the squire as he left the room. “I shall surely beat him before the day is out.” Rhys sighed as he closed his eyes once more. Madwyn had given him a thorough cleaning from the waist up. He was now ready for her to proceed with the rest. More than ready. So ready that the tip of his shaft poked up through the water. His entire body tingled in anticipation as he imagined her hand, slick with soap, moving around it, grasping, squeezing, and pulling. Maybe she would even take him in her mouth.

His fantasy was quickly doused when she poured a bucket of icy water over his head.

“I beg your pardon, milord,” she said in a breathless voice. “I fear I used the wrong bucket.”

Rhys shivered, coughed, and sat up.

“Did you not wish for me to wash your hair, milord?” she asked. “Or should I take my leave now?”

“I can finish up on my own,” he said. “You may go now.” He watched her warily as she dried her hands and left the room without a backward glance. He heard the tinkle of her laughter as she closed the door behind her.

“Wench,” he said as he leaned forward and finished lathering his hair. He slid beneath the surface of the water to rinse it. Luckily for him, his most pressing problem disappeared with the blast of icy water.

“What amuses you so?” Eliane inquired.

Madwyn stood in the upper hallway outside her room with her hand over her mouth. Her shoulders shook with the effort it took to suppress her laughter.
Eliane eyed her in suspicion. There was something afoot in the castle and she seemed to be the only one who did not know what was going on. Llyr stood patiently by her side as Madwyn wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

After a most peaceful eve, followed by a restful sleep and an early awakening, Eliane and Madwyn had made their way through the gloaming of the forest and arrived at Aubregate with the first light of morning. Eliane felt heartened by the beautiful sunrise, which made everything look as it if were covered in beautiful jewels.

Her cheerful mood quickly turned to dismay, however, when Ammon told her of a lord and his squire who had arrived at the castle in the deep of night. According to Matilde, the pair were now ensconced in the guest chambers across from her own on the uppermost floor of the keep. Who was the mysterious visitor? No one seemed to know, except Han, and he was as closemouthed as ever.

“You have seen the visitors,” Eliane said accusingly as she narrowed her eyes at Madwyn. She saw that Madwyn had changed into the clothing that she kept at Aubregate, clothing that was usually reserved for special occasions or visitors. “Who is he? What is his business here?”

Madwyn held up a hand as she composed herself. Still, her eyes danced merrily while she led Eliane from the hallway into her chamber. “Hush, child,” she whispered, “lest he hear your shrewish questions.”

“Shrewish?” Eliane gasped before Madwyn placed her hand over her mouth to quiet her. “This is my home and I am entitled to ask questions of strangers who
enter,” she said when Madwyn released her and the door was safely closed behind them.

“It is your father’s business and he will let you know all in good time,” Madwyn assured her. “But first we must make sure you are suitably dressed to meet this visitor.” The older woman went to the chest that held Eliane’s gowns.