Conquering Passion (30 page)

His usual weapons were nowhere in evidence. The only light in the room came from the flickering embers. A bluish pall of smoke, wending its way up to the smoke-hole canopy in the roof, hung around him. The chair beside him was empty.

“Don’t be afraid, Rhonwen.” His voice was soft and held no threat. “Come, sit by me,” he said in Welsh, holding out his big hand to her. “Let the fire warm you.”

She shivered and walked towards him slowly. Her breasts tingled and a strange ache throbbed in her nether regions. “I’m not afraid, my lord,” she lied as she sat in the other chair, her hands holding on to the arms tightly, in case she might have to flee suddenly.

Slowly, he leaned forward to rest his bare forearms on his muscular thighs, and stared at her. She blushed as the fire of his gaze warmed her body. She tried not to look at him but was held by the green depths of his eyes.

“It’s as I thought,” he pronounced huskily after several minutes. “You’re as drawn to me as I am to you.”

Rhonwen stared at her knees. “You’re betrothed to my enemy, my lord.”

He sat back in the chair, his frustration evident. “Ah yes, the lovely Morwenna.”

He remained silent for several minutes. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face as he wrestled with his demons.

“I’ll not marry her.”

Icy chills raced up and down her spine. It was what she wanted to hear but made the situation more confused. “My lord?”

He stood and said softly, “Please, call me Rhodri.”

She suspected this powerful man didn’t use the word
please
often. She trembled as he stood behind her chair and placed his big hands on her shoulders. As soon as he touched her, she felt the overwhelming heat of his body flow into hers. She stifled a groan.

“My lord—Rhodri,” she stuttered, “I cannot—we cannot—I’m your captive—I’m a maid.”

He bent his head to whisper in her ear, “My Rhonwen, it’s you who have captured me. I can’t stop myself from wanting you, from making you mine. But I’ll not force you against your will. I’ll resolve the problem of Morwenna and send her back to her father. He won’t be pleased I’ve broken the betrothal, but I have no wish to live my life with her blood lust. It’s you I want.”

Her mouth fell open. The room had tilted. “But you’ve known me only a short while.”

Rhodri chuckled. “The same could be said of you, and yet you’ve no doubt in your mind about your feelings for me. Do you?”

She longed to tell him her feelings for him threatened to overwhelm her, but remained silent.

He took his hands from her shoulders and a moment later she felt him fasten something around her neck. It made her shiver. Reaching up instinctively, her hands felt the smoothness of his string of amber beads. She looked down and saw how beautifully formed they were—an object an artisan had worked on lovingly, an object of great worth. The heat of his body lingered in the cold beads. She wanted to turn, to look up into those piercing eyes, but was afraid of what she might see there.

“Return to your chamber, Rhonwen. The fates have destined we meet. I know in my heart our future paths lie together. Accept this as a token of my pledge to you. You’ll come to my bed when it’s the right time, and you will be my wife.”

He took her by the arm and helped her rise from the chair. She was so stunned by his words, and his gift, she could barely make her legs work as he walked her across the room to the door.

“Take the healer back to her chamber.”

***

Rhodri sank back into his chair. His body had betrayed him as soon as she’d entered the room. He had moved to stand behind her so she couldn’t see the physical effect she had. He’d already been aroused, but his erection became rock hard when he touched her. He’d had to remove his hands from her. Good thing she hadn’t turned to look at him when he fastened the amber beads around her neck. Looking into those round grey pools would have undone his resolve.

He’d been afraid to kiss her when she left—afraid of the emotions such a kiss might unleash. It had taken a great deal of effort to keep his voice steady when he ordered the guard to take her back to her chamber.

***

Agitated and conflicted, Rhonwen stumbled along in an effort to keep up with the escort holding the torch lighting their way. Her mind was a jumble of emotions. A furtive figure emerged unexpectedly from the dark shadows of the corridor where Morwenna’s chamber was located.

He paused for a moment when he saw them but then continued to walk, and she gasped as they came face to face. She recognized him as a Norman by his shaved head and was sure she’d seen him before, in Ellesmere. Who was he and what was he doing here? He gave her a look of pure hatred and she immediately looked away. His eyes terrified her.

When she stepped hastily into Mabelle’s chamber, the other women mistook the cause of her trembling.

“What has that brute done to you, Rhonwen?” Mabelle demanded.

“No, my lady. Rhodri did nothing to harm me. He was kind to me.” She felt her face flush. “But I’ve just had an encounter in the hallway which has scared my wits out of me. There’s a Norman soldier here, one of your husband’s men.”

“It’s Giroux,” Mabelle hissed, clenching her fists. “I now see clearly the malevolent hand behind the Earl’s riding accident, Myfanwy’s murder, the loss of my child, and my own near death after the abortifacient, and now this last betrayal, our kidnapping and probable death at the hands of a Welsh rebel.”

“Who is he? Why has he betrayed you?” Rhonwen asked.

Giselle told Rhonwen the story of how Guillaume de Valtesse had blinded and mutilated Charles de Giroux and endured years of wandering exile with his daughter.

Mabelle slumped onto the edge of her bed. “I didn’t know you knew the whole story, Giselle, but I’m relieved I didn’t have to tell it.”

Rhonwen had listened open-mouthed. “But if you and your father were cast out of your home, was that not revenge enough for the Giroux family?”

Mabelle sighed. “Apparently not. My father died several years ago, and I inherited Alensonne, Belisle and Domfort. I can’t believe his reckless actions long ago have resulted in this threat to my own life, and those of my children and servants. From the grave he reaches out to hurt me and mine.”

Rhonwen grasped Mabelle’s hand. “Forgive me, my Lady,” she cried tearfully, “It’s not just that I saw the soldier. He knows I saw him. He came from the direction of Morwenna’s chamber.”

“We must think,” Mabelle murmured. The three women sat huddled together on Mabelle’s bed, careful not to wake the sleeping children. “What did Rhodri want of you anyway?” she whispered.

The healer blushed. “He’s drawn to me.”

Giselle sneered. “You mean he lusts after you.”

“No. He was kind and gentle. He spoke of—love—of my becoming his wife.” It sounded ludicrous. “He gave me this necklace of amber beads.” It was incomprehensible.

Mabelle looked at Rhonwen and whispered, “And you feel the same for him, don’t you?”

Fearing the censure of her lady for her foolish feelings, Rhonwen could barely murmur, “Yes.”

The countess squeezed the healer’s hand. “Rhonwen, a woman never knows when love might come along and knock her off her feet.”

Rhonwen couldn’t believe she’d heard these words from the Countess of Ellesmere. She looked wide-eyed at Giselle, who for some reason was silently nodding her agreement. “We must hope Rhodri’s love for you will protect us from Giroux,” the maid whispered.

***

Phillippe, burst into Morwenna’s chamber. “They know it was I who betrayed them.”

She looked up at him with a bored expression. “It’s not a good idea to come here during the day, Phillippe.”

He strode towards her. “That’s not important now. The healer saw me.”

Morwenna rose immediately from her chair. “Does she know who you are?”

He ran his hand back and forth over his shaved head. “Perhaps not by name, but I’m sure she recognized me as a Norman. It’s only a matter of time before she and her accursed mistress deduce who I am. The Earl believes I’m in Normandie, and must never find out who betrayed him. My life would be worth nothing.”

“We’ll wait and watch for a good time to kill them, my lover,” she purred as she pressed her body to his and kissed him. “I suddenly like the idea of bedding you in the afternoon.”

***

After that, Phillippe made no effort to avoid being seen by the hostages. He appeared for meals in the hall and scowled at them, his hatred and lust for vengeance plain to see.

Rhodri thought it curious but didn’t reprimand him. He did notice, however, the occasional exchange of heated looks between Giroux and Morwenna. They’d conspired together in England to trap the Countess, and he had serious questions about their relationship now.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Rhodri sent for Rhonwen every evening. At first they sat in the chairs talking as before. Sometimes he ran his fingers through her hair, inhaling its fragrance, feeling the texture of it, telling her how beautiful it was. He gazed at her for several minutes at a time. He sensed she had resolved to keep a tight rein on her emotions.

She’s drawn to me but can see no future for us.

As she became more at ease with him, he encouraged her to sit on his lap. The soft pressure of her small body against him was pleasant torture. He loved the feel of her slender form in his arms, and as long as they stayed in the chair, he would be able to control his male urges. His steadfast belief that this woman was his soul mate strengthened him, and he didn’t want to hurt her or drive her away. They talked of many things. Rhonwen told him of her love for healing and the things her mother had taught her. Rhodri shared tales of growing up in the castle at Powwydd.

One night, after she’d sat upon his lap for a sennight, they were laughing over a story he’d told her of a prank he and his brothers had played. Her smile gladdened his heart. He put his fingers on her chin, drew her face to his and kissed her on the lips. The kiss deepened and she responded to him, parting her lips as he coaxed with his tongue. She slid her arms around his neck.

She’s not afraid.

They kissed for a long time, exploring each other’s mouths, necks, throats and ears. Rhodri was intoxicated by the innocence of her responses and her eagerness to please and explore him. He loved the feel of her small hands on his face.

“Rhodri,” she whispered as he nuzzled her ear and bent his head to kiss her again, “What of Morwenna? She’s your betrothed. Surely what we’re doing is wrong?”

He tensed. “I’ll send her back to her father in the spring.”

“But she risked a great deal for you. She murdered my mother, and helped to deliver my mistress to you.”

“Morwenna didn’t do what she did for me, or for Wales. Murdering your mother wasn’t part of my plans.”

Rhonwen relaxed back into his arms. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and asked, “Do you believe she’s still a maid? I didn’t believe her to be one when we shared a chamber at Ellesmere, and I have stronger suspicions now.”

He smirked. “The Norman, you mean?”

She sat up and he could feel her fear. “I saw him coming from her chamber. He knows I saw him. He wishes me dead, and my mistress and her family.”

“Why would he want you dead? There’s no gain for anyone in that.”

“He doesn’t care about gain. It’s revenge he seeks.”

“Revenge for what?”

Rhonwen told him who Mabelle suspected he was, and why he was driven with a thirst for her blood as the daughter of the man who’d blinded and mutilated his father. Rhodri didn’t confirm her suspicions about the man’s name, but resolved to double the watch on the Norman and on his betrothed.

They sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the beating of each other’s heart. He wanted to reassure her. He squeezed her knee and turned her face to his. “I’ve given my sworn oath nothing will happen to any of you. I’ll defend you with my life if necessary.”

Rhonwen ached with the pain of knowing there was no future for her with Rhodri. She still could scarcely believe his interest in her. But when he touched her hair, all she wanted to do was curl her body into him, rest her head on his chest and bask in the warmth and comfort she experienced in his arms. She loved the soft tickle of his silky black chest hair against her nose. He never wore his braids when they were together, and she longed for the courage to untie the leather thong that kept his hair bound at his nape.

His first kiss had rocked her to the core. For the first time in her life, she felt like a desirable woman. There was desire in Rhodri’s kisses, and in his eyes, and in the delicate touch of his big calloused hands.

Was it a mistake to trust him? He could have taken her against her will, but he hadn’t. His patient wooing warmed her heart. The bond she’d sensed through forces beyond her understanding was becoming stronger and stronger. She wished each day away, longing for the sun to go down, anticipating his summons.

The parting would be unbearable.

***

Rhodri stood unmoved as Morwenna’s fists beat against his chest.

“I defy you to send me back to my father. I defy you to break our betrothal.”