Lords of Darkness and Shadow (115 page)

Cantia shook her head. “Nothing in particular. Call it a feeling.”

He looked at her. “What
kind
of a feeling?”

“That Myles would perhaps like his association with Val to be something more. Perhaps it already is something more.”

Tevin looked at her as if she had gone mad. “What on earth would make you say that?”

Cantia’s gaze moved to Val and Myles, talking softly between them.  “I do not know for certain. Perhaps it is the way he looks at her. He looks at her with such… longing and hope.”

He snorted. “I look at you the same way, though no one can say there is anything more between us than propriety allows.” Appalled that, in trying to prove his point, he had said what he was thinking, he hastened to change the subject. “Speaking of my sister, I understand that Rochester has a large merchant district. I would be grateful if you would help my sister select material for a few feminine garments.  She knows very few women of taste and culture that would offer such assistance.”

Cantia was staring at him, still lingering on his earlier words;
I look at you the same way
. Did he really? She had spent many days attempting to avoid him, allowing only necessary contact, but still, she had been unable to shake the sensations his presence gave her.  Her affection was still Brac’s; that would probably never change. But in a completely different context, Tevin brought something into her heart and mind that she could not define. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, her limbs grew warm and shaky when he came near.

Even now, she held his elbow and relished the feel of it. Once, she had felt the same thing with Brac, but those days had vanished long before his death.  What remained between them was warm comfort and little more.  The fires of impetuous passion had banked long ago. What she felt when Tevin came around was like lightning bolts.

Lost to her thoughts, she realized he was looking for an answer. “I would be honored, if that is Val’s wish.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed at him. “You’re not going to force her, are you?”

He shook his head, pursing his lips so that the massive dimples in each cheek carved deep ruts, disappearing into the well-manicured beard on his jaw line. “I will not force her, but you could do me a favor and make the gentle suggestion. She may take it better from you than from me.”

She nodded, her gaze again moving to Val, who was now gazing up into Myles’ face with a serene, interested expression.  Cantia tipped her head in Val’s direction. “Look at your sister,” she said softly. “See the expression on her face when she looks at Myles?  She feels something for him; I can see it.”

“I think you are imagining things.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Is that so?” she was forced to contradict him. “And just what would you think if I looked at you like that? You would think I was a silly, besotted girl.”

Tevin’s dark gaze moved to his sister several feet away. “I would think that I was the most fortunate man alive.”

Cantia suddenly couldn’t breathe. She had asked the question to prove her point of a potential romance between Val and Myles. She wasn’t hunting for a personal response from Tevin. She yanked her hand from his elbow but he reclaimed it firmly, tucking it into the crook and holding it fast with his free hand. He was without his armor this day and he wore no gloves. His flesh against hers was the sweetest thing he could have imagined.

“Nay, lady, you’ll keep your hand right here,” his voice was hardly above a whisper. “You’ve ignored me for days and I’ll not let you retreat again.”

Cantia’s heart was thumping madly against her ribs.   Tears sprang to her eyes and she lowered her head so he wouldn’t see. There was such confusion in her mind, such exhilaration and such guilt. She didn’t know what to think. 

Tevin looked down at her lowered head.  “Surely you’ve sensed that my interest in you goes beyond normal concern,” he said quietly.

A lone tear trickled down her cheek; he saw it.  Not wanting her to burst into tears in front of everyone, he led her to a small alcove off the main sanctuary where hundreds of tallow prayer candles burned.  It was out of eyeshot and earshot as he faced her. 

The room was warm and glowing, giving her beauty an even more ethereal look. His thumbs came up to wipe away the tear, but more followed and he found himself fighting off a flood.

“I am sorry to make you weep,” he said quietly. “I don’t know why I said that. I should not have. Forgive me.”

She shook her head, wiping at her face. “There is nothing to forgive,” she whispered. “I simply do not know what to say.”

“Say nothing,” he told her. “I will never say anything so bold to you again. It was wrong of me.”

He started to leave but she put her hand on his arm, stopping him.  “Nay, do not go,” she whispered. “I did not mean it the way it sounded. I simply meant that I wish I could say the same thing to you.”

He patted her hand. “You are a truthful woman. You will not say what you do not feel simply to gratify me. I respect that.”

“Nay,” she said, more strongly.  The lavender eyes gazed up at him. “You do not understand. I would say the same to you, my lord, only… only I cannot possibly say it because my husband is barely cold in his grave and to do so would be wrong. If I were to tell you that your presence brings me more comfort than you can possibly know, then it would sound as if I am merely saying so because I just lost my husband and am desperate to find someone to cling to. I do not know myself if that is the case. But I do know one thing; I respect you far too much to treat you so carelessly.”

He looked down at her. His gentle expression turned into something of regret. “I can see that my extended presence at Rochester has only brought you more pain,” he said. ”To stay any longer would only bring us both anguish.”

“Why?”

He suddenly took her face between his two massive hands. He had the biggest hands of any man alive.

“Because I stay only to be near you,” he whispered emotionally. “But I fear my presence has been selfish; I’ve not thought of the effect it might have on you. You need to come to terms with your grief over Brac before you can move on with your life. I fear I have added to your burden more than I realized and for that, you must forgive me. I have been horribly selfish.  You are such a sweet, pretty thing. I simply wanted to be near you.”

Cantia closed her eyes to his touch; his hands were powerful and warm, something so different than what she had ever experienced with Brac. It was wrong, she knew it, but she didn’t care at the moment.  She found herself leaning into his grip, rubbing her cheek against his rough palm.  It was instinctive, flesh against flesh, feeling something she had not felt in ages.

Tevin’s hands moved from her cheeks and into her hair. He could hardly believe she was responding to him but he wasn’t about to question it.  It was selfish of him but he did not care.  Now that he had her, he knew what he wanted to do.  Without any further words, he guided her sweet lips to his mouth for a kiss.

It was tentative at first, as if both of them knew the wrongness of what they were doing. But the moment he tasted her, a ferocious passion took over and he pulled her to him so forcefully that he drove his teeth into her soft upper lip. He tasted her blood along with the sweetness of her flesh and it drove him wild.  He tongue probed deep into her mouth, gorging himself on something he had never before known.

He licked and suckled, bit and kissed. Through it all, Cantia was collapsed against him as if rendered boneless by his touch.  She let him ravage her, forgetting her guilt and confusion for the moment. What she was experiencing with him, as no bad reflection on Brac, was something she had never before felt. Brac had been like the warmth of the afternoon sun. Tevin was like the scorch from the fires of hell.

When he finally removed his mouth from hers, it was with great reluctance.  Her mouth was red from his attention, the small cut on her lip oozing with a drop of red.  Tevin saw the blood and licked it hungrily.  Cantia responded to his probing mouth and they lost themselves in yet another powerful kiss. He was aggressive and, surprisingly, so was she.  In the process, Tevin backed into the candles and promptly lit his tunic on fire.

He smelled the smoke, felt the flame, and quickly quelled it, leaving the hem of his tunic scorched. Cantia’s eyes were wide with concerned until she saw the fire was out completely. Then she burst out in laughter so strong that she had to cover her mouth to quiet the guffaws.  Tevin struggled against his own laughter for a half second before erupting in deep chuckles.  Cantia was laughing so hard she could barely stand.  They must have created something of a commotion because Val, Myles and Simon came rushing to the threshold of the alcove, concern written all over their faces.  One look at Cantia with her hands over her mouth and Val thought something horrible had happened.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded. “What’s happened to her?”

Tevin was wiping tears from his eyes. “Nothing,” he turned to show them his singed tunic.  “But I almost went up in flames.”

Val’s concern turned to understanding.  Cantia took her hand away from her mouth, unable to speak for the laughter that was bubbling forth. Val grinned her toothy, charming grin.

“I see,” she lifted a pale eyebrow. “You are most entertaining, brother.”

“Damn near burned the place down,” he mumbled, taking Cantia gently by the arm and steering her towards the door. 

With Cantia still sputtering with laughter, they re-emerged into the sanctuary.  Val had Cantia by one hand while Cantia’s other hand was tucked into Tevin’s elbow. A priest moved towards the group, also alerted by the sounds it he alcove. He was a pudgy man in dirty robes.

“Is all well, my lord?” he asked Tevin, though his eyes were on Cantia. He knew Lady Penden and knew of her recent loss. At the moment, it rather looked like she was being supported.

“Indeed it is,” Tevin answered, faking his composure.

The priest looked as if he didn’t believe him. “But I heard.…”

“You heard nothing unusual,” Tevin assured him in his deep voice. He looked at Simon, standing a few feet away. “Give the priest a donation on Brac Penden’s behalf. We wish a mass said for him.”

Simon dug into the change purse he carried, producing a few coins for the priest.  The pudgy man accepted them graciously.  “A pleasure, my lord.”

As the priest turned away to prepare for the mass, Tevin wriggled his eyebrows at the group. “I would suggest we conduct our business quickly and leave before we wreak any more havoc.”

“Keep him away from the candles,” Cantia muttered to Val.

Val nodded in agreement, biting her lip to fight off the giggles as Tevin cast her a threatening look. Cantia, too, struggled to compose herself.  It was difficult to look at Tevin, however, and not break into laughter.  So she kept her gaze forward, moving for the pedestal of holy water that was near the western wall. Dipping her fingers in it, she made the sign of the cross across her body and murmured a prayer. She wasn’t sure if she should pray for Brac, or for herself for having allowed such a carnal display with Tevin in the cathedral. It was wicked and she knew it. But at the moment, she almost didn’t care. She had felt more alive in his arms, more vital, than she had in quite some time.  It wasn’t wrong to want to feel alive when she’d suffered through so much death.

As she knelt in preparation for the rosary, she could feel Tevin’s dark eyes upon her.  He wasn’t kneeling in prayer as she was, but was rather standing behind her respectfully.  When she should be praying, all she could think of was the blaze he had ignited within her the moment he had touched her.  The memory of those massive arms, the pure passion of his kiss, caused her heart to start racing all over again. She forgot about the prayers. With her eyes closed, she imagined their kiss over and over again in her mind.

Tevin, too, was having a good deal of trouble concentrating.  He stood there, staring at the back of her luscious head, wondering just how long he was going to spend in Purgatory for ravaging the new widow. He’d never felt more evil and he was not, by nature, an evil man. But he knew that, whatever the cost to his soul, his brief encounter with her had been worth the price. He could never have imagined anything sweeter.  His eyes trailed from her head to her torso, studying the curve of her waist and the gentle flare of her hips through her emerald surcoat.  She had a delicious figure; he’d noticed it from the first.  He was so wrapped up in his thoughts of her that he barely felt the first tap from Simon. But he felt the second stronger one.

He looked at his knight, who was pointing at the entrance to the cathedral. Several Winterton men stood in the doorway, waiting for their lord’s attention.  Tevin left the ladies on their knees, moving do the entrance accompanied by Simon, John and Myles.

“What is it?” he asked his men.

The first soldier, an older man who had seen service with Tevin’s father, spoke. “A missive, my lord,” he handed him the cylinder of yellowed vellum. “It came a short time ago.”

Tevin cocked a dark brow, noting the seal.  “It’s from East Anglia,” he said in a low voice. 

He moved outside the cathedral with his men in tow. Several kept watch around them while Tevin broke the seal of the missive and unrolled it. Very carefully scripted letters met his gaze as he read the contents. Simon, though he couldn’t read, looked over his shoulder while Myles, who could ready, read slowly of the first few words. But Tevin was finished before he was and rolled the vellum up quickly.