The Thunder Lord: The de Shera Brotherhood Book One (Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood 1) (19 page)

“Are you ever going to speak to me again?” he finally asked as she stirred up the flames.

Jeniver put the fire poker aside. “Of course,” she said quietly. “But I do not know what to say.”

Gallus considered her answer. “The truth, mayhap,” he said. “I would settle for the truth.”

Jeniver stood up from the hearth, brushing off her hands. “The truth?” she repeated. Then, she shook her head as if the statement frustrated her. “Do you truly wish to know? The truth is that I was devastated when you left Isenhall without a word to me. I felt so utterly worthless and… and so
used
. It was a beautiful night, a rapturous experience, and then you were suddenly gone. The truth is that I blamed myself. I blamed myself for being foolish enough to believe I was anything more than chattel to you. I thought that you and I might actually come to be friends or even care for one another, but when you left Isenhall, I realized that was not to be. I realized that I was a burden to you. I swore I would never see you again but that was before….”

She trailed off suddenly and lowered her head, moving back to the chair next to the bed and pretending to busy herself with the table that held the compresses and medicines. Gallus coughed, throwing an arm over his mouth because it was so violent and nasty. When he opened his eyes again, Jeniver was standing over him.

“Here,” she said, another cup in her hand. “Drink this. It will help your cough.”

He obeyed, downing the bitter potion. “What was that?” he asked, making a face.

She grinned in spite of herself. “Poison.”

He coughed again, sputtering against the terrible taste. “No doubt I deserve it.”

She nodded. “You do,” she replied, “but it really isn’t poison. It is licorice root and horehound. It will still your cough.”

He made a face. “It will either cure me or kill me.”

Jeniver couldn’t help but smile at the fuss he was making about the taste of the medicine, a surprising reaction from a powerful and stoic lord. She found herself watching him as he wiped his mouth and licked his lips. In truth, she hadn’t stopped watching him since the moment her sentries had dragged him into the keep of Rhydilian, and even then she could hardly believe it. At first, she was shocked to see him but that shock was replaced with great concern over his health. The castle’s surgeon, an old man who had served her father, had taken charge of Gallus and had the man stripped of his frozen clothes and put him into a tepid tub.

It had been tricky warming him in the old, iron tub because he was unconscious, and a very big man as well, but four soldiers, Jeniver, and the old surgeon, Dwyn, had managed to keep him from drowning. All the while, Jeniver could still hardly believe he had come. She couldn’t believe he had made such a difficult trek through terrible weather to reach Rhydilian, but as she thought about it, she realized it was because he had wanted to inspect his acquisition. He hadn’t come to see her. She was positive of his motivation until he opened his mouth and started to speak.

Then, she had been in for an even greater shock and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it. She wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t the delirium speaking and that was what kept her reaction so guarded. The man was very ill and he probably thought he was dying. He had nothing to lose by begging her forgiveness and speaking sweetly to her. She, however, had everything to lose.

Her heart.

“Sleep, now,” she said quietly, pulling the fur coverlet up over his shoulder. “You must rest.”

Gallus’ eyes were riveted to her as she tucked the covers around him. “I cannot sleep, nor can I rest, until this matter is settled between us,” he said. “Please tell me how I can make amends.”

Her movements slowed. “We will speak of it when you are well.”

“I cannot assume I am going to recover,” he countered. “My mind and heart are in turmoil. I cannot rest like this.”

She stopped fussing with the bed covers and looked at him. “You are ill and you believe you are dying,” she said, trying not to sound cynical. “Of course you want to ease your conscience. It is your sickness speaking, not the Earl of Coventry as he is in his natural state.”

He stared at her, realizing what she meant. “So you believe I only say these things because I think I am dying?” he asked. Then, he grunted softly, with regret. “I was not ill until a few days ago and even then I was coming to Rhydilian to tell you what was in my heart. My illness has nothing to do with the words that are coming out of my mouth.”

It occurred to Jeniver that he was correct. He had been coming to Rhydilian long before the illness set in. In that realization she felt the slightest amount of hope. Brow furrowed in thought, she resumed her seat next to his bed.

“You have no idea how badly you hurt me,” she finally said. “It was pain beyond measure. First my father’s injury, and then you leaving… it was more pain than one person should have to endure.”

He was swamped with remorse and sorrow. “I know,” he said quietly. “You did not deserve it. My regret is greater than you can imagine.”

“I am very angry with you still.”

“Of that, I am certain. I deserve it.”

She nodded firmly. “Aye, you do,” she said. “Gallus, if the situation were reversed, how would
you
feel? What would you do if I came groveling back to you?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I
am
groveling, aren’t I?”

He said it rather humorously and she struggled not to smile. “Aye, you are,” she confirmed. “If you were not in this bed, I am positive you would be on your knees before me.”

“I would agree with that.”

She was still frowning at him, deeply, but the man was gazing up at her so openly that it was difficult to hold any manner of resistant stance. Angry or not, hurt or not, he was here and he was pleading forgiveness. Perhaps she was foolish for even listening to him, but she was, and willingly so. After a few moments of deliberation, she signed heavily.

“Then what would you have from me?” she asked.

He considered the question carefully. “Your forgiveness for my terrible behavior,” he said quietly. “I swear to you upon my oath as a knight that I will never behave so abominably again. And I want to know if we can start again, fresh, without the memories over the past. We were introduced over violence and we became bonded over the same. I should not like violence to be hanging over our entire marriage. It seems to me that marriage should be about rebirth and not death. The rebirth of
us.
”

Jeniver gazed into his red-rimmed eyes. “Traveling to Rhydilian to ask for my forgiveness under such horrid conditions tells me that you are sincere,” she said, finally softening. “Considering you nearly killed yourself to come here, I suppose the least I can do is forgive you.”

Gallus smiled happily, relief evident in his expression. A big arm came from underneath the bed covers and he sought her hand again, holding it tightly.

“You are as gracious and kind as you are beautiful,” he said softly. “Thank you, Lady de Shera. You have my utter and deepest gratitude.”

She smiled back at him. “If that is true, then you will make me a promise.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that you will never flee again because you are fearful of your emotions,” she said. “Whether you are hurt or sad or happy beyond measure, please never run away again. It would do well for you to speak to me of your feelings. I will never laugh at you or condemn you for what you are feeling. I should feel honored that you would trust me enough to express them.”

It was an exceptionally gracious position to take, considering what he had done. He was eager to accept her terms. “I swear to you that I will never run from you again,” he said softly. “You are far more gracious than I could ever be.”

Jeniver believed him. He was, as she had always suspected, a man of his word. “You are kind to say so.”

He smiled. “Since we are speaking on kindness, you seem to have an abundance of it,” he said. “Not only to me, but to my children. I must thank you for giving my daughters your puppy. I know how much he meant to you.”

Jeniver grinned. “I think he meant more to them,” she said. “When I left Isenhall, he was sleeping in their bed with them.”

Gallus laughed softly, coughing as he did so. “He is still there,” he said. “According to my mother, they sleep with him, eat with him, bathe with him, and play with him. He has become their brother.”

Jeniver’s smile faded somewhat and she looked to her lap, her focus upon his massive hand as it held her small one.

“Come October, they will have a real brother to sleep and play with,” she said, so softly that he barely heard her. “It would seem that I am expecting a child.”

Gallus’ smile vanished. “You
are?
” he blurted, shocked. He opened his mouth to speak again but ended up choking, coughing heavily. Still, he struggled through the hacking. “Is it true? Are you certain?”

Jeniver was amused at his astonishment. “I am,” she said. “That is the only reason I am willing to forgive you, Gallus. Were it not for the child, I would have let you freeze at the gates. But I do suppose my son needs his father.”

Gallus struggled to sit up, wanting very much to take her in his arms. He was positively overwhelmed with her news. “And you are so casual about this?” he demanded, agitated. “Why did you not send me word the very moment you were certain?”

Jeniver tried to push him back to the bed but he wasn’t cooperating. “I would have, eventually,” she said. “But the weather is so terrible that I wanted to wait until the spring thaw. Moreover, for all I knew, you were still in London and intended to stay there. Mayhap you would not even care about the news.”

He eventually had to lie down because it took too much effort to sit up. He lay on his back, holding on to her arms as he gazed up at her. His expression was wrought with pain.

“How could I not care?” he asked, softly. “You are my wife and you carry our son. Of course I care. I care about this news more than anything else in the world.”

Jeniver dared to believe him. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that he was truly here because he cared, because he wanted her in his life. Now, they were to share a child together. Finally, her walls of defense were beginning to crumble and she was starting to feel some joy at his appearance. It was almost too good to believe.

“Truly?” she whispered. “You are pleased?”

Gallus reached up, touching her sweet face. “I would kiss you but I do not want to give you my disease,” he murmured. “Of course I am pleased. Thank you for such a wonderful gift when I have done nothing to deserve it.”

“Do not be foolish or stubborn, Gal. Embrace this gift with the love and devotion I know you are capable of.”
As Gallus looked up at Jeniver, the words from his dream, words Catheryn had spoken to him, echoed in his mind.
God’s Bones
, he thought, stunned.
Could this be what she meant? Could my dream truly have been prophetic and not simply the ramblings of a sick man?
He could only believe that Catheryn had been trying to tell him something, something important. Nay, he would not ruin this chance. He would embrace it with everything he was.

“You have traveled at great peril to come to Wales and beg my forgiveness,” Jeniver said, interrupting his thoughts. “You have risked yourself. I would say that you have more than done penance for your offenses.”

His hand was still on her soft cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered sincerely. “Thank you for giving me a second chance. I will not fail.”

Jeniver smiled as he took her hand and kissed it sweetly. It was enough to send bolts of excitement coursing through her body, curling her toes. In fact, she had to sit down because the excitement weakened her knees. But it wasn’t simply the thrill of him. The pregnancy had been unsteady from the beginning and she often felt weak, but she would not tell him that, not now. He was here, they were finally together, and that was all that mattered.

“I believe you,” she murmured. “But for now, will you do something for me?”

“Anything at all.”

“Will you please try to sleep?” she asked. “You need a great deal of rest and you will not get it if you continue to chatter like a magpie.”

He laughed softly. “As you wish,” he said. “I will try to sleep. Will… will you sit with me for a while?”

“I will if you promise not to talk to me and close your eyes.”

He gave her a half-grin, kissed her hand, and forced himself to close his eyes. But then his eyes popped open again.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I must ask about your father and then I will be silent, I swear it. My mother told me that he survived long enough for you to bring him home. How does he fare these days?”

Jeniver’s expression grew sad. “He is in the chamber above you,” she said, pointing to the ceiling. “He is very weak. He lives, he eats, he converses, but he cannot get out of bed. The surgeon does not believe he is in danger of dying but he is not himself. He will never be the same again.”

Gallus could see the sorrow on her face and he squeezed her hand. “But he is alive,” he encouraged. “That is the most important thing, is it not?”

She nodded, trying to force her bravery. “He was very pleased when I told him of our marriage,” she said. “He is anxious to come to know you.”