Immortal Love (4 page)

The soft wind blew against her back, and the
sound of thunder rode with it. Eleanor looked up into the bright
blue sky. Despite no clouds in sight, the sound grew louder.

Horses! Her skin prickled, and choking fear
nearly took her breath away. She looked around. No place to hide.
Self-preservation started her running. Picking up her skirts, she
jumped over rocks and small shrubs. The bag she had slung over her
shoulder bounced with every move, pulling at her neck and forcing
her to hold it down with one arm. It restricted her ability to gain
momentum.

The hoof beats drew closer. Her lungs began
to burn from exertion, and she developed a stitch in her side,
slowing her down. As hard as she tried, her muscles refused to keep
up such a pace for long.

Reason finally came over her, and Eleanor
stopped in the middle of the meadow. Bending over, she took deep
breaths to ease the pain in her side and swallowed down the rawness
in her throat. When she was capable of breathing normally, she
stood straight and turned toward her pursuers.

Immediately she recognized the dark giant
leading his army toward her. She planted her feet and, swallowing
her fear, clenched her teeth and awaited the wrath about to fall
upon her.

Dominick reined in his horse a few feet from
her, his expression one any enemy would fear. Vapor escaped his
horse’s flaring nostrils, making it appear as though it were a
demon from the underworld. Soldiers surrounded her in a tight
circle.

She looked up into the dark eyes of the man
who held her fate. The legends were true. His eyes held no mercy as
he looked down at her, yet she wouldn’t turn away. She wouldn’t be
a coward and vowed no man would see her fear—ever.

A whistle broke the silence between them. The
hawk she’d seen sitting in the tree flew to the outstretched arm of
one of Dominick’s men. He whistled once more, and the bird took
flight again, heading toward the forest.

However, she had little time to ponder the
uncanny relationship between the man and his animal, or the handful
of men that rode toward the forest.

Dominick’s chainmail clinked when he
dismounted. As his feet hit the ground, he drew his sword.

Her knees nearly buckled, and involuntarily
she took two steps back. Slowly, he approached. She stood her
ground, not allowing herself to move as he stopped only inches
away, forcing her to look up at him.

He grasped the strap of her bag where it
crossed her chest. She was sure he could feel her heart pounding
against her ribs.

“Did you really think to escape me, Eleanor?
To defy the king’s order?” His voice was deceptively calm.

Near hysteria, she tried to struggle away. “I
won’t do this. I won’t become your wife.”

His hand tightened in a fist around the
strap, pulling her closer. “You have no choice. The king has
ordered us to marry, and his order will be done.” His voice
remained calm. “It’s treason to do otherwise.”

Anger took over her reason. It bubbled from
her stomach and exploded through her arms, as she shoved Dominick
hard to back him away from her. It was like pushing a stone wall,
yet she turned her fury on him like a brush fire.

“Damned be the king’s orders and damn you. I
will not marry you or any other man that walks this Earth. If it’s
treason I commit, then strike me down with your sword, for I will
never—do you hear me, great knight—never live in fear again.” Her
chest heaved with the force of her anger.

He stood silently a moment, his eyes never
leaving hers as he released the strap that held her bag and slowly
raised his sword to her chest, its tip rested over her heart.

Eleanor could barely breathe. Her last moment
on Earth had come. Dominick wore the mask of intolerance.

The muscles in Dominick’s jaw moved when he
clenched his teeth. Then he lowered his sword. A growl escaped from
the back of his throat. He grabbed her arm tightly and walked her
to the middle of the clearing. With her arm still in his grasp, he
thrust his sword into the ground. The gritty sound of metal hitting
rock as it pierced the earth set Eleanor’s teeth on edge. He pulled
her to her knees before the sword that now formed a cross with its
hilt.

“Place your hand on the sword, Eleanor.” She
hesitated for a moment. “Now!” His voice boomed, sending the birds
from the trees.

”No!” she screamed.

“If you don’t agree, my men and I will leave.
You will have to deal with McPhearson on your own, and your people
will suffer. Possibly more than they have already. Is that the
price you’re willing to pay for your stubbornness?”

Her decision was made in three breaths. Her
hand shook as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt, still warm
from his grasp. He sank to his knees in front of her, placing his
hand over hers, completely engulfing it.

“Swear on this sword that you will never
leave Godwin or me again. Vow to me now.”

She glared back at him. “You’re the devil’s
own.”

“Don’t forget what I’m capable of. Now swear
it.” His hand tightened slightly, putting pressure around hers, but
not enough to cause pain.

“You have my word. I will never leave Godwin
again.” Conviction settled in her heart. “But know this, a meek
wife you will never have. I may surrender my land and my life to
this marriage, but I will never surrender my heart.”

They both rose from their knees. “It’s not
your heart I seek. My liege has given me a command, and it will be
obeyed. Unlike you, I don’t betray my king.”

“Any mindless beast can follow orders. I know
you’re a beast, but are you mindless as well?”

His fists clenched tight at his sides. Anger
flared in his eyes. The urge to step out of striking distance
encompassed her, but she stood still. Moments passed between them,
yet the blow she’d expected never came. Instead, the merciless
warrior of legend pulled his sword out of the ground.

When he faced her again, a ball of dread
settled in Eleanor’s chest. The storm of anger that crossed his
face froze her where she stood. It was not until he sheathed the
sword that she let out a breath of relief.

Striding to his great steed, he mounted and
sat rigidly, his chest heaving. When he suddenly moved his horse
toward her, she instinctively tried to step out of its path, but
couldn’t before Dominick scooped her up in his arms and planted her
firmly on the saddle in front of him.

His men broke the circle around them.

“Ha!” he shouted to the horse, spurring it to
breakneck speed toward Godwin.

Rage nearly blinded Dominick. Never had
anyone talked to him in such a manner. To call him mindless was
beyond comprehension. And when Eleanor’s eyes filled with
smoldering hate and deception, the desire to force her compliance
had swelled inside his mind.

Riding toward Godwin he knew he was holding
her too tightly, but it was either that or give in to the desire to
throttle her. Instead he chose a breakneck ride to spend the
tempest raging within him. The sound of Aries’ hooves pounding the
ground beneath them kept in time with the pounding in his ears.

He bent his body low, forcing her down in the
saddle. Her small hands gripped Aries’ mane, even though there was
little chance of her falling off since Dominick had a death grip
around her waist. Soft tendrils of hair brushed his cheek, yet he
was too angry to care.

She would do as the king ordered and he would
see it done.

He couldn’t douse the angry fire that blazed
within him. Once inside the bailey walls, Dominick dismounted with
Eleanor in tow toward the chapel.

The priest was already waiting.

“I want Martha, my maid,” Eleanor said as she
stubbornly stuck her chin out.

Relieved that Eleanor was cooperating, he
turned to one of his soldiers. “Bring her maid to the chapel.”

At the arrival of Martha there was a
commotion outside as a man tried to break through the crowd of
soldiers.

“Who is that?”

Eleanor looked to the back of the church.
“Martha’s husband. They are both like family to me.”

Dominick turned to his men. “Let him in.” The
man burst forward and pulled Martha into his arms.

Dominick’s anger finally began to cool as he
watched the couple hold one another. He looked back at Eleanor. He
would never know that kind of love. The woman who stood before him
burned with hatred. And yet for a moment as she watched her
servants, he saw something in her eyes. Love. Love for the two
people that were arm in arm.

A longing came over him. For a heartbeat he
wished she would look at him that way. But when she turned back
toward him, he saw only an expression of contempt. Unwilling to
look on such abhorrence again, he turned her toward the altar.

They knelt while the priest administered the
service, each speaking their vows almost inaudibly.

Finally, it was over and he placed the ring
on her small hand. He’d had it made just before he left to fulfill
the king’s decree. It was a ruby set in a gold band with two ivies
circling the stone, meeting as one, a symbol of their union.
Dominick felt an ironic laugh in the back of his throat. He hadn’t
imagined a union such as this.

It was time to kiss the bride. Eleanor looked
as though she would rather be slapped than kissed by him. He
lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to hers. She didn’t
back away as he had expected she would. Her lips were soft and
warm, and he was tempted to deepen the kiss, but knowing how she
felt about him, he quietly pulled away.

She looked at him in surprise, but it was
gone in an instant, replaced with a mask of indifference. He was
relieved it wasn’t the animosity he expected. Letting his hands
drop from her, he looked back at the small congregation of
witnesses.

His brother didn’t look like a well-wisher.
He didn’t understand the reason for following William’s orders.
Dominick wasn’t completely sure himself. He only knew he was weary
of war, weary of wandering and desired to plant his feet in one
place.

“I would never have left your land and its
people unprotected.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would never sacrifice innocent people to
be slaughtered by men like McPhearson.”

“You made me believe that you would, just to
gain my land?”

"No, Eleanor, to gain your cooperation. It
was a means to an end,” he said, as he walked out of the
chapel.

Eleanor was stunned into silence, her
emotions a mixture of relief and anger. Anger won out. The threat
of McPhearson returning to pillage her land had been a ploy to gain
her cooperation. Dominick had manipulated her, and that was
unforgivable.

Eleanor ran to Martha. The two women held
each other tightly.

Martha touched her face. “Learn from this,
Eleanor. Don’t anger your new husband further. Tread lightly, my
love.”

“I promise, I will be more careful.” Eleanor
felt the energy drain from her body and sat down in a nearby
pew.

“You need to rest, my lady. You have had
quite an ordeal. Zenon will take you to your room, and I will bring
you a nice hot cup of tea.”

“That isn’t necessary. I’ll be all
right.”

“Don’t argue. I insist you rest for a while.
There is nothing that needs to be done which can’t wait.” Martha
gently pushed Eleanor toward Zenon’s open arms. “Zenon, please,
make sure she gets to her room undisturbed. I will be up
shortly.”

“I will.” His hand reached out to his wife.
“Will you be all right?"

“I will be fine. We
have weathered worse.”

F
inally, Eleanor was
alone in her chambers and had a moment to think. A fierce warrior
of legend was now her husband. She wanted to cry. But what good
would come of it? There was no way out. She was a prisoner of fate.
Her life now lay in the hands of a powerful soldier she knew would
try to bend her to his will.

The memory of her mother surfaced in her
mind. Looking down at her wedding ring solidified her resolve.
Never again would she be forced to do Dominick’s bidding. Despite
what his lordship might think, her life was her own. She need do
nothing more.
Nothing more.
As far as she was concerned she
had fulfilled the king’s order.

With her conviction
clear in her head and in her heart, she went to the window seat to
watch the sun rise higher in the sky. It caressed her face and the
birds flew on the currents of the wind. She was lulled quietly to
sleep.

D
ominick wasted no
time surveying the castle and the surrounding area to estimate how
much damaged McPhearson had done. He stared at the charcoal remains
of the stables. This would be rebuilt first, as the heavy spring
rains were soon to come. He needed a place to house the horses. The
castle roof had large, visible holes, and he suspected all types of
birds and other vermin now resided under the few shingles that
remained.

The extent of ruin Godwin had fallen to
puzzled him. Clearly, the previous lord had let his castle suffer
years of neglect.

But it was now his castle and his land. He
would make it the home he had always longed for.
Home.
As
many times as he said it to himself, it didn’t seem real. Godwin
was his. Before the king’s command, he could never have imagined
being a landowner. He breathed in the scent of the salty sea beyond
the cliffs and committed it to memory.

It would take time before he could feel that
Godwin was truly his own. Maybe by the end of spring, when seeds he
had planted with his own hands began to grow and sheep grazed in
the meadows, he would feel his life take root.

Eleanor was an intricate part of his dream.
Despite what he said in the meadow, having a wife that loved him
was
important. It had been his dream for many years, and he
couldn’t give up on any part of that dream, for without it he would
never be truly whole.