By Design (35 page)

He eased his weight off her. He rolled onto his back and pulled her to him.

“Are you angry about last night? That I did not tell you?” It was easy to ask him. There was nothing about him that she feared.

“Nay. I should have guessed it, though. I should have known that you would be bold enough to dare it.”

“Still…”

“I would have preferred if you had let me take care of you, I will not lie about that. You knew that I would do whatever it took to protect you. I told you as much. But I can not resent that you came to me, even knowing what you planned to do. You honored me last night.”

She snuggled closer. She could tell him anything. That was the best part of their intimacy. “I failed. With Mortimer.”

“I thank God that you did, because it means that you are alive. Forgive me, but that is how I feel.”

“I thank God that I did, too. I think that I would have in any case. I do not think I would have been brave enough to do it.”

“You are nothing if not brave, Joan. But if a man had to die, better it was Guy Leighton. It is another's destiny to make Mortimer fall.”

The mention of Guy brought back the image of his death. “I do not like what I did today,” she whispered. “Even in justice and defense, I do not like it. I do not like myself for having done it.”

He kissed her, then sat up and held out his hand. “Let us go to the pond. I think that you should wash this whole day off of you, and out of your mind.”

“Like a purification?”

“Aye. But it will also give me the chance to see you naked in this moonlight.”

Stripped of their clothes, they ran hand in hand to the far edge of the woods where the pond sparkled in the night. They slid down the damp bank, and sat to let the flow cleanse them. Facing each other, they played with the water and each other, making games out of splashes and kisses.

Her mood lightened as her fear and guilt washed away. It was not the water that purified her, and helped her reclaim some innocence. It was Rhys. It always had been.

He raised a handful of water and let it drip over her shoulders and breasts. He leaned forward and licked the rivulets. She stroked the head bending to flick her with pleasure. “You are tied to my danger now. I had wanted to avoid that.”

“I am tied to you. The danger is a small part of it, and one that we will defeat.”

“I think that I will always regret not giving you more, sooner.”

“I do not want your regrets. Not tonight, or tomorrow. They are just more chains. You carry enough, and others await. I want you to forget about them for now, so that we can be free together for as long as possible.”

His tongue circled low to catch a drop on her nipple. She pressed him closer. “I have a new chain that I will never forget or regret. I will always be bound to you. I will never be free of that.”

He pulled back, so he could see her face. “Then this will bring you unhappiness.”

“You can never bring me unhappiness. This chain gives me joy. I wear it with pride. Its weight will remind me that I have known the best love, no matter what life I live.”

“You are sure? I would not want this to make your duty harder for you.”

“I am most sure.” She raised her hand, palm out, facing him. “I will swear it. Nay, I will take a vow to prove it.”

Rhys went very still. “You can not do that. You know it, and so do I.”

“We are free this night. Naked as the day we were born and as removed from the world's worries as Adam and Eve. The bond exists, no matter what the future holds. Don't you want to give it words? Do you hope to forget me still, like you did last night?”

“I will never forget. I will live off of this love my whole life.” So there it was, their admission of love. He said it so calmly. She wondered if he had always known what this might be.

He laid his palm against hers and bent his fingers between hers. “Then let us make our own vows, Joan. Honest and true ones, so that we both can remember the words as we grow old.”

His warmth flowed into her through their connecting touch. She could feel his life force like a pulse. “You are the husband of my heart, and the love of my life. Wherever I am, whatever I do, you are joined with me and I with you. The part of me that matters will live with you forever. I accept the chain that binds us with joy, because in this unity I have known the purest freedom.”

Rhys laid his other hand against her face. “And you are the wife of my heart, and the love of my life. In the ways that matter we are joined forever, and will live together until death. I pledge my life to protect you, and will always answer your call. I accept this chain with joy, because in our unity I have finally known pure freedom.”

He sealed their vows with a gentle kiss, so tender and loving that her heart filled her chest. He gathered her in his arms and lifted her from the water. “You are getting chilled. Come and lie on this rock so that I can see all of you in this Eden.”

The low flat rock still held the sun's warmth, as if nature had arranged to provide a comfortable bed for them. They sprawled on it under the stars and moon, enjoying their unity in the timeless world that only a silent night can create.

He ran his fingertips over her body, as though he drew memories of her form onto his mind. His feathery caresses both comforted and titillated, and mixed deliciously with the breeze drying her skin and the heat rising from the stone.

That meandering touch had her halfway to delirium before he kissed her. The passion was not desperate this time, but slow and soulful and imbued with the emotions of their vows.

He used his hands and mouth to lead her into an exquisite sensuality. He slid off the rock and eased her to the edge of their stone marriage bed. He spread her legs and bent to kiss and taste the essence of her womanhood. Her consciousness soared to the stars.

He gently flipped her so that she hugged the warmth of the rock and her legs lined down its side. He lifted her hips and entered her, and held her firmly in his rough, strong hands while his thrusts joined them together in a long and beautiful consummation.

“He will not believe us. He will think that we are impostors.”

Mark blurted the words as soon as he saw Barrowburgh. They had stopped at the far edge of the fields that surrounded the town and castle.

The massive walls rising in the distance presented a formidable sight. Rhys could understand how they might intimidate the youth who had lived in poverty for three years. Joan looked a little worried, too.

Rhys snapped the reins and headed for the town gate. “He will believe you. Humble garments do not make the man if wise eyes are seeking the truth. Addis will know that you are not impostors.”

Actually, he was counting on Moira knowing it, and convincing Addis.

The town gates stood open, but those of the castle did not. Addis was taking no chance that Mortimer might send in spies.

It took some time for the gate guard to receive permission to let them pass. When they finally rolled the wagon into the inner yard, the Lord and Lady of Barrowburgh were waiting.

Moira ran over to greet them. She acted as if his sudden arrival, just days after her own, was not at all unusual.

Addis was more direct. He paced around the wagon, eyeing its contents. He ended his inspection by giving Joan a long, considering examination. Then he turned his scarred face on Mark, who managed not to cower—just barely.

“Your departure from London was sudden, mason. I trust that you were not fleeing for your life.”

Rhys smiled at hearing his own words spoken back to him.

“Actually, we were.”

That stopped the pleasantries that Moira and Joan had been exchanging. The lord of the manor raised an eyebrow.

It was time to explain. Rhys nudged Mark and Joan forward. “I present to you the children of Marcus de Brecon. They have come to ask you to extend your protection to them.”

“How long have you known?”

Addis had waited until after Rhys told him of the visit to
Mortimer, and the discovery of Joan with Guy Leighton, to ask his questions. They sat alone in the lord's solar, with the ancient sword of Barrowburgh almost filling the wall above Addis's head. Addis might live in a public inn while in London, but here on his estate his power and wealth were visible everywhere.

“I guessed when you told me their story.”

“Then you fell in love before you knew. Forgive me, but Moira says that is how it is between you and Joan, and she is rarely wrong.”

“Aye, she is rarely wrong.”

Addis reached over to pour more wine into the goblet that Rhys held. “I am sorry for your disappointment.”

That simple statement said it all. The lord of Barrowburgh guessed that Rhys had been hoping for a future that would be impossible now. This baron may have married a serf-born woman, but the daughter of a baron had no choices in these things. To disobey her kinsmen to marry below her position would mean being severed from her family and her life and her past.

That had already happened to Joan once. Rhys would not let it happen again. Nor would she.

“The boy has his father's eyes. I met de Brecon long ago, when I was a squire. Joan must look like her mother, whom I never saw. Moira suspected something, although not this. She mentioned that she thought Joan harbored some secret that she feared revealing. I confess that I have been distracted by other things and did not pay much attention.”

“Will you extend your protection?”

“I will. Hopefully, it will not be for long. I know what it is like to be robbed of one's home. The boy will know no peace until that is avenged.”

“And if Joan is accused of Guy Leighton's death?”

“If it is learned that she was there, we will call it what it
was. A woman defending her virtue. I doubt that Mortimer will come to Barrowburgh to demand that I hand her over. Not after you have made him as worried as you have. I will send a messenger to Edward tomorrow, to let him know what you told Mortimer, and that you are here with me. I think that you should stay until we see how the wind is blowing.”

Faint metallic sounds began somewhere outside. Addis rose and walked to a window. Rhys joined him.

In a practice yard below, a fair-haired youth parried with a bald knight. Addis had handed Mark over to his steward after learning his story, and after hearing his request to be trained in arms.

“He shows strength and the promise of skill. He will have to work hard to make up for the lost years, though. Still, I think that he has the makings of an excellent warrior. When he gets his home back, he will be able to hold on to it.”

“He has the heart for it. And the will.”

Addis glanced over. The calm understanding of a friend showed in his eyes. “It was their good fortune to have met you, but perhaps not yours to have met them.”

Rhys watched Mark wield his weapon, and realized that it was not only Joan that he would mind losing. Mark's departure from his life would create a void. He would miss the boy.

“Fortune smiled on me that day in the marketplace when I met them.” He turned away to go and find Joan. “Tell your steward to work him until he drops. Make him the finest warrior in England.”

“So that he can protect her?”

“Aye. And himself.”

C
HAPTER
24

“Y
OU ARE CONTENTED HERE
?”

Joan turned at the sound of her brother's voice. He approached her along the wall walk. He still wore the padded tunic that fits under armor. His hair dripped with water from his sluicing after hours of swordplay.

“Contented enough. Not so much as you, since you get to spend the days practicing at arms. I am over-idle in comparison, and it makes me restless.”

She dropped her gaze to the rooftop of the castle chapel. Rhys was in there, carving borders of ivy into the crossing's piers. It was a gift to Moira. He had found a way to avoid idleness at least.

“You have spent three years working like a serf. You are not accustomed to being treated like a lady, that is all. We have our places back, sister, and I swear to God that it feels glorious.”

It did feel glorious, as though an upside-down world had been set right again. But it also felt strange and dreamy and a little distant, as if she walked through
invisible mist. She lived in this keep, in the luxury she had once known as her right, but a part of her saw everything with another woman's eyes. Joan Tiler's eyes.

“Not our true places. Only one of our legs is back in that world, and only by the generosity of Sir Addis. It may be a long time before we stand there completely, on our own feet, and not propped up. As to being treated like a lady, it makes me uncomfortable sometimes. I had not noticed the deference when I was younger. It was part of the seamless fabric of my world. Now I see it for what it is.”

“It is what is due you, as the lord's guest.”

“The servants do not accord Rhys the same courtesies, even if they treat him like a guest, too. In subtle ways they make distinctions, and that vexes me.”

“I doubt that it vexes
him
. He knows his place, as you must remember yours. He is a craftsman, and it is rare enough that he sits at a lord's high table. He does not expect the castle folk to think that makes him more than he is.”