Defiant Passion (Sons of Rhodri Medieval Romance Series) (7 page)

Rhodri welcomed Rhonwen every evening. At first they sat and talked as before. Sometimes he ran his fingers through her hair, inhaling its fragrance, feeling the silkiness, telling her how beautiful it was. He gazed at her. 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, he encouraged her to sit on his lap. The soft weight of her body against him was pleasant torture. He loved the feel of her slender form in his arms. As long as they stayed in the chair, he hoped he would have control of his male urges. His steadfast belief this woman was his soul mate strengthened him, and he did not 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 royal court at Powwydd.

One night they were laughing over a story he had told her of a prank he and his brothers had played. Her smile gladdened his heart. It was the first time since their untimely deaths he had been able to speak of his family. He put his fingers on her chin, drew her face to his and kissed her lips. The kiss deepened and she responded, parting her lips as he coaxed with his tongue. She slid her arms around his neck.

She’s not afraid.

They explored 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.

He nuzzled her ear and bent his head to kiss her again, but she hesitated. “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. She took a deep breath. “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 felt 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 her mistress suspected he was, and why he was driven with a thirst for her blood as the daughter of the man who had blinded and mutilated his father. Rhodri did not confirm her suspicions of the man’s name, but resolved to double the watch on the Norman and on his betrothed.

They sat in silence, 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 had not. His patient wooing warmed her heart. The bond she had 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.”

“I’ll not marry you, Morwenna.”

She sprang away from him and spat in his face. “My father will kill you. You have no right.”

He wiped the spittle from his cheek. “I have every right. A bridegroom expects his bride to come to his bed chaste. What will your father say about your rutting with a Norman soldier, a spy at that?”

She seemed taken aback for a moment, and then sneered, “And what of your precious Rhonwen, will she come to your bed chaste? I think not.”

Rhodri grasped her wrists and forced her to her knees. His voice was quietly menacing. “Nothing about Rhonwen should concern you. She is light where you are darkness, joy where you are hatred, innocence where you are corruption. Beware what you say and do while you remain here.”

He released her hands. “Go to your chamber.”

Morwenna went as she was ordered, but glared at him defiantly, intense hatred in her eyes.

She’ll seek revenge for my turning to Rhonwen.

“She must be watched at all times,” he told Andras. “And the Norman.”

“It will be done,” his friend replied. “I never trusted either of them.”

***

That evening, as she sat on his broad lap, Rhodri told Rhonwen that he had banished Morwenna from his life. The evil woman would be leaving as soon as the weather broke.

“It’s still many sennights away,” she murmured, returning his gentle kisses.

“I’m having both her and the Norman watched.”

Rhonwen imparted this news to the other hostages when she returned to their chamber but did not tell them how Rhodri had lovingly caressed her breasts, or how he had made her nipples harden with the strokes of his calloused hands. She mentioned nothing of the wanton feelings these actions had wrought in her, but she did share that Rhodri had again proclaimed his love.

***

“The Norman sleeps in Morwenna’s chamber nightly,” Andras reported.

Rhodri shrugged. “I don’t care, my friend. So long as the two of them stay away from the hostages, they can rut to their heart’s content.”

He wished he could go to Rhonwen’s chamber, but the other hostages were there. Rhonwen would never accept a chamber of her own when her noble mistress had to sleep with her maid. “Bring the healer to my chamber.”

Andras hesitated. “What is this woman to you, Rhodri?”

Rhodri chuckled. Andras was one of the few who had the temerity to use his given name. They had grown up together. “She’s to be my wife, Andras.”

His friend’s eyes widened, but he smiled, nodded and left.

Rhonwen entered a while later. Would his body always react as strongly to her presence? This time he did not wait for her to come to him at the chair. He strode to her side, lifted her into his arms and returned to the chair. She giggled and put her arms around his neck.

His lovemaking began with gentle kisses and progressed slowly to stroking and then suckling her breasts. He knew she could feel his erection against her bottom and sensed she wanted to touch him, but was too shy. Slowly he caressed the inside of her thigh beneath the woollen tunic. He had never been overly concerned in the past about a woman’s pleasure, but now he derived great satisfaction out of Rhonwen’s delight in the new found awareness of her body.

“I want to bring you pleasure, Rhonwen. Let me touch you.”

“Your touch brings me more pleasure than I’ve ever known,” she whispered. He could tell she didn’t know what he intended to do.

Throaty murmurs escaped her as he stroked further and further up her thighs, until his fingers found the tight black curls of her mons. Still suckling her breast, he parted her thighs and stroked the swelling bud with his thumb. Her eyes flew open and she almost fell off his lap, but he held her firmly and continued to stroke.

“Hush, my sweet Rhonwen. I won’t hurt you. Come for me.”

She soon gasped his name, lost in the ecstasy of her release. For long moments he cradled her, rocking gently, his heart full.

She recovered from her euphoria and her face reddened when she saw she was sprawled on his lap with her tunic up around her hips, her legs open.

“Nothing we do here is wrong, my love. You’re my woman, and I want only to give you pleasure. When you’re mine completely, I’ll show you ways to paradise that will make tonight pale in comparison.”

He felt her body heat at his words. He brought her to release after release that night, slowly sliding his fingers inside her. She cried out with intoxication and surrendered completely to the passion he was patiently teaching her to enjoy.

At the Winter Solstice, Rhodri’s people held a ceremony to honour the sun. Rhonwen explained to Robert and Baudoin this was to encourage the sun god to come back someday.

Despite the remoteness of the fortress, it was well supplied. It had its own large communal kitchens made of stone which were separate from the wooden structure. There were two huge fireplaces for cooking. Most of the meals were surprisingly good and food was plentiful, but at Yuletide they enjoyed a special banquet, which began with mulled cider, followed by venison and fenberry pie. Giselle wondered aloud where they would have gathered fenberries. Rhonwen explained they grew readily in the bogs of Wales.

Both the Countess and her maid almost fell off their bench when a roasted boar’s head was carried in. “At least this one isn’t green and yellow,” they exclaimed together.

Giselle reddened. “Everyone is looking at us strangely, wondering what we’re laughing at.”

Rhonwen too smiled inwardly, recalling similar feasts at Ellesmere Castle.

An
oak log was burned for twelve hours using the remains of the previous year’s log to light it.
Rhonwen explained that
the people would keep the remnants for next year, but the ashes would be saved to spread on the fields in the valleys below at the time of planting. This would encourage a good harvest.

Robert gazed around, his eyes wide. “What’s the branch with spiky green leaves on the doors?”

Rhonwen smiled. “It’s holly. The Welsh believe the evergreen with its blood red berries is a sign of fertility, and its spikes will capture evil spirits before they enter.”

Robert frowned. “What’s fertility?”

Rhonwen blushed and glanced at the Countess. She and the maid were suppressing giggles. Rhonwen cleared her throat. “Fertility—it means life.”

She was relieved Robert seemed satisfied as he returned his attention to his food.

As the New Year neared, Rhodri was the one to go outside before midnight and be the first to enter the
neuadd
after midnight.

Baudoin had dozed off in Giselle’s arms. Robert yawned, half asleep. “Why is he carrying bread and a log?”

Rhonwen replied, “Because it’s good luck for a tall, dark and handsome man, bearing food and fuel, to be the first inside the door.” Her heart raced as she spoke the words. This tall, dark and handsome man could be hers.

That first night of the year, after watching Rhodri stride in confidently when the massive door opened to his insistent pounding, Rhonwen also had a dream. She and Rhodri were making love. It was so vivid, she was afraid she had cried out her passion. She awoke to find her hands pressed to her most intimate place. But she felt no shame. Rhodri had taught her things about her own body she had never known and unleashed feelings she had been unaware of.

If only it could be.

***

Robert and Baudoin were growing boys who often became restless with their captivity. With her lady’s permission, Rhonwen was teaching them Welsh, and they were proving to be good at it. The women also learned a few words as they listened to the lessons. They passed the time sewing and weaving with the Welsh women in the camp, or spinning wool with a drop spindle.

The weather was usually foul and they were unable to spend much time outdoors. Rhodri and his men seemed impervious to the bitter cold, and spent hours honing their fighting skills in the frigid mountain meadow, keeping in good physical condition. The Norman women were amazed by the cleanliness and grooming of the Welshmen when they came to the hall, despite the fact they spent many hours in physical activity. The hostages were provided with hot water whenever they asked for it.

The Welsh boys were included in the training and were equipped with small wooden swords, daggers and shields with which to learn the rudiments of self defence and attack. One day, Rhodri asked the Countess’s permission to include Robert and Baudoin in the boys’ training sessions. He brought with him a sword, dagger and shield for each of them. Rhonwen noted he had waited until the boys were with their mother. Their eyes lit up when they caught sight of the miniature wooden weapons.

“
Maman
,” Robert pleaded, “please say we can go.”

The Countess looked puzzled. “They do grow bored, and they would benefit from the activity, but isn’t it strange for you to want to train the sons of your enemy?”

Rhodri shook his head. “There’s no honour in defeating an unworthy enemy. The Earl is a worthy opponent, as his sons will be.”

The Countess consented, and her sons became Rhodri’s pupils in the arts of swordplay and raiding warfare. They loved it and were full of tales of their prowess when they returned.

The women worried about the unborn child. Rhonwen did what she could for her lady. Rhodri had told her she had only to ask for herbs and the like and they would be supplied. He was true to his word. She thanked God the child seemed to thrive and grow, despite the constant worry of Giroux’s presence and the terrible uncertainty. Morwenna and the Norman were seen rarely, but he was still there.

The Countess had entered her ninth month when she experienced sudden hard labour in the hall. She collapsed to the floor with a strident shriek as the pain hit her.

Rhonwen could see the panic in her eyes. “This didn’t happen before,” the Countess gasped.

Rhonwen and Giselle rushed to help her, but it was Rhodri who reached her first, lifting her effortlessly despite her bulk and carrying her to his own chamber.

“Fetch the midwife,” he yelled to no one in particular.

“You’ll have privacy here, Countess.” He laid her on his own bed. She expressed her thanks that her children would not have to witness her labours, then the pain hit again. She vomited.

“I’ll send clean linens. Warrior I may be, but I’ve no intention of involving myself in this battle for life.”

***

The hours crawled by as screams echoed around the fortress. Mabelle de Montbryce called her husband’s name over and over, not in recrimination, as Rhodri had heard people say women did in the midst of childbirth, but with longing and regret. He shut out the image of his beloved Rhonwen undergoing the same agony for him, but trusted in his heart she would call his name with love when the time came.

Suddenly silence reigned. His heart plummeted. He would be truly sorry if the courageous Norman noblewoman had died bearing her child. The Earl of Ellesmere must love this remarkable woman and would seek revenge. A simple plan had become too complicated. He cared for these people he should hate.

Then a thin wail pierced the still night air. Rhodri smiled at the immense relief he felt that at least the child lived.

An hour later, he was enjoying a tankard of ale with Andras in the
neuadd
when Rhonwen appeared, carrying a bundle. It was a tiny baby girl, wrapped in swaddling cloths and a
brychan
. She moved the coverings away from the babe’s face.

“She can only stay a few minutes. She’s come into the world early, and needs to be with her mother, but I thought you’d want to see her.”

Rhodri came to his feet and took the bundle, looking down at Rhonwen. He was in awe of the love on her face for this child of another woman. “The babe is fair, like her mother. The lady lives then? She has survived her ordeal?”

“Yes, she’s strong. She’s lost a lot of blood and will need to rest, but I’m confident she and the child will flourish.”

“She had a good healer to assist her,” he said lovingly.

“No, the skill of the midwife saved them both,” Rhonwen replied modestly. “And her own stubborn determination.”