Halcyon Rising (12 page)

“You can join me.” The stubborn man would never get in the pool unless asked. “I don’t mind.”

He cast a quick, pained glance over his shoulder, careful to keep his gaze locked with hers and not let it drop lower, where her breasts must be visible beneath the water. “I do not think that would be a good idea.”

“I’m not afraid of this attraction between us,” she assured him. “And I want to see you, Sebastian. I want to see all of you.”

Her words shocked him, she could tell, but he managed a muffled laugh. “I have never known such a brazen woman.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” she whispered, filled with sudden embarrassment. “But my people have very different views about sexuality than yours. Where I come from, it isn’t considered a sin to make love to someone you’re attracted to. It is a part of life; a necessary, wonderful need we are encouraged to explore.”

He turned around, his expression filled with remorse. “I am not offended, Rhoswen. But you must know I am out of my depth here. I have been celibate for so long, I am not certain I even remember what to do.”

“I’m sure it will come back to you.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “I want you, Sebastian. Is that so hard to believe? And I always go after the things I want.”

“Never think that I do not want you.” His voice was so soft she had to strain to hear it over the bubbling water. “I am trying to do the right thing, Rhoswen. You are my prisoner. I cannot take advantage of you.”

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage.” His reaction to her invitation frustrated her. Didn’t he know how much courage it had taken for her to offer herself to him this way?

A dozen emotions flitted across his handsome face. “I spent time as a prisoner myself. I know what it is like to be willing to do anything to secure your freedom. I am afraid you don’t really want to do…this. You are just afraid and…desperate.”

“You’ve already agreed to help me,” she pointed out. “I’m not afraid. I’m not desperate. I just want you.”

“Please, do not say that.” He closed his eyes, as though to shut out the sight of her. “I need you to be the one to walk away. I do not have the strength to keep fighting something I want more than I want my next breath.”

“Then quit fighting.” She took a few steps toward him through the water, needing to touch him, needing to connect with him in some way.

“If we did this, you would regret it.” The conviction in his voice startled her, because it left no doubt that he lived with his own regrets.

What terrible things had been done to him during his own captivity? The possibilities chilled her to the bone.

“I wouldn’t regret it,” she told him stubbornly, determined to convince him that he was more than worthy of a woman’s affections, no matter what had happened in his past. “I’d treasure the memory for the rest of my life.”

“Jesu Christ, you tempt me.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “But I will not do this. When you are finished, I will be upstairs.”

“No, wait!” Though he’d turned down her offer, she didn’t want him to go. He seemed brittle, ready to shatter. “Stay. Come get in the pool and talk to me for awhile. Enjoy the warmth. I promise I’ll control myself.”

He hesitated, but didn’t turn around. “I cannot, Rhoswen. Please do not ask me again.”

* * *

Sebastian vaulted up the tower stairs, thwarted desire raging within him. Walking away from Rhoswen’s proposal had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. She probably thought him mad, or worse, was hurt by his rejection.

Once in his bedchamber, he flung himself down on his huge bed and covered his eyes with his forearm. It did not help. The sight of her, flushed with steam, her pale breasts cresting the surface of the pool, had become permanently branded upon his eyelids.

With a harsh curse, he shoved his other hand down the front of his hose, gasping as his palm met hot, straining flesh. His cock was painfully hard, begging for release. All it would take was a few swift strokes. But the moment he tightened his fist, the past came rushing back and his desire fled in an icy rush.

Jesu Christ.
What was wrong with him? He could not bear even his own touch. The same thing had happened when Rhoswen had pressed him to the bed, her weight, however slight, trapping him beneath her. Any hint of coercion or captivity sent him into an utter panic.

She had been in his mind, but she could not have seen what had happened to him in the desert. If she had, she would never have offered herself so sweetly. No, she would turn away in utter disgust.

The mere thought of her finding out made him nauseous, made him want to kill something. He could not bear for her to know the truth. If she even suspected the depths to which he had sunk in order to survive, she would never again look at him with trust or tenderness.

Somehow he had to continue to keep her at arm’s length. He could not let her any further into his heart or mind. At dinner tonight, he would talk to Miranda and get her opinion on when it would be safe to move Trevelan. The moment it was possible, he wanted both Rhoswen and her companion gone.

He squashed any internal protests with ruthless determination and rolled off the bed, striding to his trunk to find something suitable to wear for dinner. He discarded several choices, settling on a peacock blue tunic, lined with silver thread. He had worn the garment at court and had nothing finer. Perhaps if he dressed in a conspicuous enough manner, he would draw some of the attention away from Rhoswen’s beautiful gown.

Within moments he had transformed himself into a gentleman, and though he wished he’d had a chance to bathe and shave in the springs, he took solace in the fact that he would still be far cleaner and sweet-smelling than the rest of Simon’s people. The stench of so many filthy bodies in close proximity was the main reason he preferred to take his meals alone.

Rhoswen’s footsteps sounded on the stairs outside his bedchamber, and he did his best to compose himself, trying not to worry overmuch about what she must think of him for rejecting her. When she entered the room moments later, he caught his breath in sheer wonder.

Though her beauty had always been evident, she had been bedraggled and battered since he had met her. Now, garbed in the emerald gown, with her pale blonde hair coiled atop her head, she looked every inch a queen.

A bad feeling took root inside of him. Jealousy surged within him at the thought of subjecting her to the leering stares of Simon’s men. He feared he would be forced to defend her and knew his odd possessiveness would add fuel to the fire of those who thought her loveliness a sin. They would think him bewitched, and for the dozenth time he wondered if he was.

“Do I look presentable?” She stayed in the doorway, unable to meet his gaze, her fey features flushed with color.

“I have no words,” he told her, his voice hoarse with conflicting emotion.

She dared a quick glance at him through her lashes, obviously trying to gauge his mood. Her eyes widened when she saw his formal manner of dress, though she seemed to think better of commenting. “Is it time for us to go?”

He nodded and crossed the room to her side, offering her his arm. “Just keep by my side and do as I say. I swear I will keep you safe.” And he prayed for the strength and wits to be able to keep his promise.

* * *

When Rhoswen and Sebastian entered the great hall ten minutes later, the raucous sounds of over a hundred people eating and making merry came to a jarring halt. The cavernous room fell utterly silent, and every pair of eyes turned toward the door. Rhoswen dug her fingers into Sebastian’s wool clad forearm, beset by sudden panic.

“Keep your eyes down,” Sebastian instructed beneath his breath. “Do not speak unless Simon asks you a direct question, and even then try to be as brief as possible. If you contradict my story in any way, it will be disastrous for all of us.”

“I understand,” she whispered, leveling her gaze upon the dirty rushes at her feet, wincing at the thought of walking across them in her lovely gown. The smelly straw did nothing to hide the animal bones and droppings that littered the floor.

As they started forward, the low hum of speculation rose around them, no less threatening than the silence. The scents of cooked meat, grease, and the oppressive odor of too many bodies in close quarters pressed in on her. She had to take shallow breaths to keep them from overwhelming her.

They passed down a central aisle flanked by two long trestle tables and approached a smaller table on a dais at the head of the room, where Lord Simon reigned over the gathering. His searching stare was riveted upon Rhoswen, and she shivered despite the warmth of the room.

“You are doing fine,” Sebastian murmured, but from the tension coursing through him she knew he didn’t like the attention they were garnering any more than she did. Though these were his people, she sensed he didn’t feel any more at home among them than she did.

At last they reached the dais, and Sebastian offered her a seat next to the one he obviously planned to occupy on Lord Simon’s right. She sank onto the hard bench, her heart thundering in her throat as the conversation grew louder, buzzing in her ears like a hive of angry bees.

“So nice of you to join us,” Lord Simon said, as Sebastian sat down. “I had begun to think I would have to pound upon your door again.”

“I told you I would be here,” Sebastian replied, an edge to his tone.

A servant placed a trencher of food in front of Sebastian, then scurried away, warding herself. The fare consisted of a piece of meat covered in some sort of heavy, greasy sauce, steamed greens, and a hunk of flat bread.

Rhoswen swallowed convulsively, afraid she might be ill if she were forced to eat the bloody flesh of an animal. In Halcyon, they ate only fish, fruits and vegetables. She thought longingly of Sebastian’s flavorful stew.

Lord Simon’s gaze burned upon her face, but she somehow resisted the urge to look at him. Sebastian had told her to keep her eyes down, and she could only assume he’d had good reason.

“What is her name?” Lord Simon asked.

“Her name is Lady Rhoswen,” Sebastian answered, breaking off a hunk of bread and pressing it into her hand. “We are to share a trencher,” he told her in an undertone. “As my lady, you receive the choicest bits.”

My lady.
She gave him a weak smile and took a bite of the bread, finding it surprisingly edible.

“And her companion?” Lord Simon persisted.

“Lord Trevelan.” Sebastian slanted his brother a chiding glance. “He is going to live, in case you were wondering. But it will be several days before he is fit to leave.”

Simon signaled for one of the serving girls to replenish his flagon of ale. “You are not yourself. I have not seen you this way since your dangerous fascination with Meredith.”

Palpable tension filled the air at the mention of the woman’s name. “I cannot believe you dare bring Meredith into this.” The anger Sebastian had so far managed to suppress boiled to the surface in a furious rush. He clenched his hands at his sides in an obvious attempt to keep from bashing his brother’s face in.

Meredith?
Rhoswen glanced between the two men, stunned by the maelstrom of emotions swirling between them. She wanted to ask questions, but knew she must hold her tongue.

Simon cleared his throat, seeming unprepared to deal with the wrath his careless comment had caused. His hazel eyes held an emotion she could only interpret as grief, and she wondered anew about the sainted Meredith of whom they spoke. “Perhaps I misspoke. I am glad to see you care about something. I just fear this woman exerts some unholy pull upon you.”

“There is naught unholy about my feelings for Lady Rhoswen.” Sebastian’s impassioned words brought a rush of tears to her eyes. She did not know what she had done to earn his loyalty, but she prayed he would not live to regret it.

“I want them away from Hawkesmere as soon as possible,” Lord Simon ordered, using the serving girl’s return with the ale as an obvious excuse to look away from his furious younger brother. “I will not rest easy until they are gone.”

Nor would Rhoswen. She doubted she’d be able to draw an unfettered breath until she was far away from Hawkesmere and her unsettling jailor.

Sebastian took a deep, calming breath, and then he threaded his fingers with hers out of sight beneath the table. He squeezed tightly, but she didn’t know who he tried to comfort, her or himself. Simon’s mention of Meredith had rattled him, and she wished she knew why.

After a quarter of an hour of tense silence, the conversation between the two brothers began again, drifting to carefully neutral topics. She relaxed a bit, hoping Lord Simon had asked all the questions about her he intended to. She sensed he, too, had been rattled by Sebastian’s reaction, perhaps even felt guilty. In any event, the mysterious Meredith seemed to have distracted him from his suspicions about Rhoswen and Trevelan.

She let her attention wander, frowning as she remembered the way Sebastian had walked away from her while she bathed. She would have been insulted, if not for the fact that he’d been obviously aroused.

His sense of honor and tremendous willpower both touched and annoyed her. She wished she’d been able to tempt him beyond all reason, but perversely she was even more attracted to him because she hadn’t.

Unfortunately, she feared his reticence had more to do with the captivity he’d spoken of than her desirability, or lack thereof. When he’d spoken of what he’d had to do to survive, his shame and heartache had been painful to see. Whatever he’d suffered, it only made her more determined to break through his defenses and show him she didn’t care.

“Who is this shameless harlot your brother has brought to your table, my lord?” The strident voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced up to see a man standing to Lord Simon’s left. A priest, given his manner of dress. He shook a bony finger in her direction. “’Tis rumored the wizard has been fornicating with her in his cursed tower.”