While Angels Slept (16 page)

His brows
flickered with confusion. “Why not?”

She still had
hold of him, silently pulling him around the end of the bed to the other side. 
As soon as Tevin rounded the frame, he could see bedclothes strewn about the
floor in the four foot section between the bed and the wall.

“What is that?”
he asked.

Her expression
was one of shame and anguish. “I… I sleep there.”

His dark eyes
were soft on her. “Why?”

She gestured
weakly at the bed. “Because it smells of Brac,” she said softly. “I cannot bear
it.”

He understood,
feeling guilt sweep him yet again. “Cantia,” he murmured. “I am so sorry. You
are still grieving and I’ve been nothing but overbearing and forceful with
you.  Forgive me, sweet.”

She looked at
him, her eyes wide. “You’ve not been overbearing or forceful at all. Moreover,
at any time I could have refused you. I’ve not refused because I’ve not wanted
to. I explained this to you, Tevin… what I feel for you is completely separate
from what I have felt, or continue to feel, for Brac. I cannot sleep on a bed
that smells of him because it is a fresh reminder of his loss every time I
breathe it in. I will never heal if I continue to do that. And for my sake, for
Hunt’s sake, I must heal.”

Tevin sighed,
pulling her head to his lips and kissing her forehead. “I shall have the bed
removed if it pleases you.”

“I think that is
best.”

“No more
sleeping on the floor. You’ll catch chill.”

She smiled
weakly. “As you say,” the mood between them, so passionate only moments
earlier, had cooled. She continued to study him. “So is this the end of your
onslaught for the day?”

His brow
furrowed, somewhere between amusement and puzzlement. “Considering the
circumstances, it probably should be, don’t you think?”

She put her
hands on his face, pressing her thinly clad body against his bare chest.  “Nay,
I do not,” she whispered. “I would resume where we left off.”

He couldn’t help
it; his arms went around her and his want for her ignited full-strength once
again. He was coming to realize his fire for her was very easily stoked. As she
lifted her mouth to him for a kiss, he spoke softly.

“Are you sure?”

“More than
sure.”

“On the floor?”

Her lips met
his. “On the floor.”

Mouths locked in
a passionate embrace, Tevin went to his knees and Cantia with him.  He laid her
back on the mound of jumbled bedclothes, one hand behind her head and the other
moving up her slender torso.  Her breasts were full and luscious in his hand
and he was suddenly very intolerant of the shift that still lingered between
them.  He pulled it off, indelicately, leaving her completely nude.  He gazed
at her a moment in the weak light of the chamber, his breath literally catching
in his throat. He’d never seen anything so beautiful.  Quickly, his breeches
came off and he smothered her with his massive form.

Instinct took
hold. Tevin kissed her so passionately that Cantia’s head swam; she couldn’t
breathe with the force of his lust. His big hands moved the length and breadth
of her body, hot and gentle yet powerful.  When he closed over a bare breast,
she encouraged him. When his heated mouth finally descended on a taut nipple,
she held his head fast against her.  Her body was wracked with excitement as
his lips moved over every inch of her sweet, round breasts.

Since she was
not a maiden, there was no fear when he wedged his big body between her legs.
They parted easily for him, inviting him into intimate places.  Tevin accepted
the invitation and plunged deeply into her, listening to her gasps of
pleasure.  Gathering her up in his arms to both hold her close and to support
his enormous weight, he began his measured thrusts into her sweet body,
overwhelmed by the smell and feel of her. She was slick and tight. Never in his
life had he experienced anything so wonderful; never in his life had he
expected to.  But the lady cradled in his arms was just this side of heaven. 
He savored every thrust, every withdrawal, feeling her body draw him in deeper
and deeper.

His mouth
reclaimed hers, kissing her deeply. He loved the taste of her. Cantia’s hands
were on his hard buttocks, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks in his
flesh.  In the throes of her passion, she drew blood, causing Tevin to spill
himself deep inside her. The frenzied pleasure-pain had been too much for him
to take and it was a wicked enjoyment he experienced.  Even after he savored
his release, he continued to move in her. There was far too much fire and
passion for him not to continue lingering over the deliciousness of their
union.  He continued to move in her, to kiss her, long into the evening.  But
at some point he did stop, and at some point, they fell asleep in each other’s
arms.

They slept
soundly on the floor in a disarray of bed clothes that now smelled like Tevin. 

***

The bottle
prison was black but for the glow of a distant torch that filtered in through
the opening in the ceiling. Charles could barely see his hand before his face,
which is why he had taken to sleeping a great deal. There was nothing more to
do. Moreover, sleep brought dreams, visions of Brac and he found comfort with
his son. But then he would awaken, realize it had been but a dream, and close
his eyes to beg for sleep once again. He had no idea how long he had been in
the pit. Long enough, however, for his madness to grow.

Since the prison
was so silent, the sounds of footsteps immediately roused him from his stupor. It
was like hammer sounds in the deep. He leapt to his feet, unsteadily, straining
to see who it was that approached from above.  After a moment, he could see a
face looming in the darkness but could not make out any features. His heart
began to race.

“Who is it?” he
demanded. “Announce yourself.”

“It is Dagan, my
lord,” the knight lowered his face so that Charles could see clear his features.
“I came to see how you are faring.”

Charles looked
up at the knight in the hole, recognizing him as one of the knights who had
imprisoned him.

“I am still in
my own dungeon, fool. How would you be?”

Dagan lifted an
eyebrow. “My lord, I suggested the last time I saw you that a display of good
behavior could possibly see you released from your confinement.”

Charles put his
hands on his hips. “Are you in charge of my dungeons now?”

“Lord Tevin has
given assignments to his men. I hold the dungeons and the gate house.”

“Then let me
out.”

“I cannot, my lord.
Not without orders.”

A food basket came
down to him, lowered by a rope. Charles ignored it for a few moments, thinking
to make a statement, but reconsidered when he realized how hungry he was.  He
did not know when last he ate. He grabbed the bread and mutton and chewed
noisily. The basket was reeled back up.

 “Did you
consider my offer?” he called up to Dagan.

The knight knelt
beside the opening. “What offer is that, my lord?”

“My son’s wife
for my freedom.”

Dagan’s
attention lingered on the old man below. He was half-hoping to hear the
question, half-hoping he would not. Truth be told, he was struggling. Dagan was
an honorable knight, but he was also growing old and fewer opportunities were
presenting themselves. Though the offer came from a madman, still, he could not
completely discount it.  He had actually allowed himself to entertain it and
felt like a devil for doing so.

“I have not, my
lord,” he lied.

“Why not?”

“Because it is
not reasonable, nor is it possible.”

“But it is.
Rochester, and my son’s widow, belongs to me. They are mine to do with as I
please, and I would offer Lady Cantia to you in exchange for my freedom.”

Dagan sighed
heavily. “Though your offer is generous, I cannot seriously consider it. In the
first place, to release you from this prison would be in direct violation of my
liege’s order. Secondly, the lady and I would have nowhere to go. I do not have
property and I would surely have to take her from this place.”

“But
she
has property,” Charles stopped chewing when he realized he might actually be
able to bargain himself from this hell. “Her father left her two manors. They
would belong to you if you married her.”

“And where are
these magnificent homes?”

“Gillingham is a
fortified home to the west and Darland is another home a few miles to the
southwest. They are wealthy holdings with grain and sheep production.”

It was odd how
Charles did not sound so much like a madman at all when discussing his
daughter-in-law’s holdings.  Still, Dagan was not convinced. He was filled with
guilt for even listening to the offer, but there was selfishness in him. He was
almost forty years old and had nothing to show for it. A beautiful widow and
her lands would be a small price to pay for disobeying his liege. Moreover, he
could declare himself an independent lord with such wealth through marriage to
Penden’s widow.  These were desperate times. He had to take what he could.

“Even if I were
to accept your offer, my lord, were I to release you, Lord Tevin would simply
capture you again,” he said. “You could not stay here.”

“Rochester is my
home,” Charles rumbled. “I am the Steward.”

“But du Reims is
your liege.”

Charles tossed
aside the half-eaten mutton. “Surely you know that what he has done to me is
not right,” his voice was low and pleading. “The man has imprisoned me in my
own dungeon so that he may steal my fortress. Do you not see this?”

“He imprisoned
you because you were a danger. Your grief has made you mad.”

Charles threw
down the bread and lifted his hands, like claws, into the weak light that
streamed down into his cell. “There is no madness in my observations. Tell me
that he and my son’s wife are not conspiring against me as we speak. Tell me
that du Reims has not taken over every aspect of Rochester. He wanted to be rid
of me to confiscate my holding and has used any excuse he could think of to do
so.  Can you not see that?”

Dagan inevitably
thought of the past few days; Lord Tevin had indeed spent a good deal of time
with Lady Cantia and her young son. In fact, his attention had gone beyond mere
concern, some thought. There was talk.  Though Dagan wanted nothing more than
to refute Charles’ assertions as the ravings on an old man, he could not
entirely. Some thought there was truth to what he said.

Without another
word, Dagan stood up and quit the vault. Surprisingly, Charles let him go
without vehement protests. He continued to stand in the weak light, listening
to the footfalls until they faded completely and wondered if would, indeed,
ever find freedom from this place.

***

Faint shouts
could be heard in the bailey beyond the lancet window. Tevin was enjoying the
best sleep he’d had in a long time with Cantia wrapped in his arms. There was
warmth and peace there, a wondrous world of satisfaction he’d never before
experienced. It was enough to make him forget everything else. But the shouts
eventually woke him and he sat up, his massive shoulders silhouetted against
the soft moonlight.  Cantia, jostled by the movement and by the fact that he
had moved his big warm body, stirred.

“What is it?”
she asked sleepily.

He didn’t say
anything for a moment, putting his hand on her head to comfort her.  “I am not
sure.” He bolted up from the floor and collected his breeches. Cantia sat up,
clutching the coverlet to her nude chest.  She watched Tevin pull on his
breeches in the darkness.  Silently, he pulled on his boots and marched to the
door. As she sat there in confused silence, Tevin suddenly turned around,
marched back to her, bent over and kissed her gently on the lips. He kissed her
again because she tasted so good.  Retracing his steps, he quit the room and
shut the door softly behind him.

Legs hugged up
against her chest, Cantia had a smile on her face.  His kiss had brought back
memories of a most passionate encounter.  Then her eyes moved to the bed she
was unable to sleep on and inevitable thoughts of Brac came back to her.  She
put a timid hand on the mattress, feeling the linen beneath her fingers.  Her tender
thoughts of Tevin began to turn to thoughts of Brac.  Lying back down on the warm
bedclothes, she gazed into the darkness, torn between thoughts of two very
different men.

Was she
betraying Brac? The man had been in his grave a month and already she was
fornicating with someone else.  She wondered what Brac would say to her, or if
she had died, if he would have found comfort so soon after her passing. Though
she would not have wanted him to mourn the rest of his life over her, surely
there was an appropriate length of mourning for one so well loved.  

Perhaps what she
was doing was wrong. Perhaps she was being too selfish and not giving Brac the
appropriate respect.  Tevin was new, exciting, kind and intelligent. But he was
also her liege and had been very kind to her in her time of need. No matter
that she told him the feelings she held for him were different from those she
held for Brac; the fact remained that the situation was one of convenience. He
was here, he was kind to her, and in her weak state, she had responded.  She
was beginning to think she was a very weak and foolish woman.

More thoughts
filled her head, those of longing and grief and what the future might hold. A
lone tear trickled down her temple, tears for Brac, for herself, for Tevin. She
should have never allowed herself the warmth of Tevin’s comfort.  But she had
needed it.   She realized that she did not regret her actions for one moment,
and perhaps that was her greatest guilt. She had wanted Tevin to touch her, to
explore her, and she in turn had wanted to explore him.  She did not think of
Brac at all when Tevin was around. All she could think of was him.