Lords of Darkness and Shadow (130 page)

“Because I do not,” he whispered. “That is all you need to know.”

She could sense humor and her dark eyes glittered. “That is not true,” she murmured. “I need to know everything. Tell me, Myles.”

His smile grew although he fought it, biting his lip as he averted his gaze. “I cannot tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am a coward.”

She grinned. “Myles de Lohr, you are no such thing. Tell me why you do not wish for me to injure myself further or... or I swear I will never speak to you again.”

He cast her a sidelong glance. “Never?”

“Never. Never, ever.”

“That is a very long time.”

“It is. Are you willing to take that chance?”

He sighed heavily, although he was still having difficulty looking at her. “Can you at least give me time to determine what it is I need to say before you cut me off completely? I do not want to say the wrong thing.”

She did giggle, then. “How on earth can you say the wrong thing? Myles, you had better tell me what I wish to hear or there will be seriously consequences.”

His grin broke through. “I do not like consequences.”

“Would it be easier if I spoke first?”

His grin faded and he looked at her, then.  In fact, he looked both curious and hopeful. It was a strange combination.

“Aye, I believe it would,” he murmured.

Her smile faded as well, though it didn’t vanish completely. She gazed at the man, his handsome face, someone she had known for many years. She had always been very fond of him, made stronger now with age and experience. She couldn’t remember when she hadn’t longed for him in a way that made her heart race and her palms sweat. Reaching out, she gently touched his wrist.

“Very well,” she whispered. “Promise you will not laugh.”

“I will not laugh, I swear.”

She nodded her head, almost reluctantly, as she summoned her courage. “I know I am not a fine lady with elegant pursuits,” she whispered. “But I am strong, brave, and of good character, and I swear I would love you forever if given the chance. I would do all in my power to make you happy and content, Myles. Perhaps you do not feel the same way about me but I would be honored if you would at least give me the chance.”

His smile was completely vanished as he stared at her with big eyes. After a moment, he took the hand she had placed on his wrist and brought it to his lips, kissing it reverently.  Val had no idea why tears sprang to her eyes, but they did. The streamed down her temples as she watched him gently kiss her hand, her wrist.  It was the most wonderful moment she could have even imagined.  When he was finished kissing her hand, he moved to her head, very carefully cupping her face between his two big hands. He just stared at her.

“You are far braver than I am, my lady,” he murmured. “You have spoken everything that is within my heart but have been too afraid to speak the words. I never thought... I did not believe you would be receptive.”

She grinned at him, thrilled beyond measure at his tender touch. She had dreamt of this moment and now that it was upon them, she could never have imagined it to be this wonderful.

“I am receptive,” she whispered.

He lifted his eyebrows. “Enough to give up the sword to become my wife? I do not want to marry a woman who can out maneuver me in battle or best me in a fight.”

She giggled. “I promise that I shall lay my sword down if I am your wife. Unless, of course, you ever have need of me.”

His eyes glittered as his gaze drifted over her forehead, her eyes, the shape of her lovely face. “I will have need of you,” he whispered as his face loomed closer. “But not in that fashion.”

His lips claimed hers, a sweeter kiss neither of them had ever known.  He suckled her lips, tasting her for the first time, thinking he’d been a fool not to have done it sooner.  The gentle kiss turned passionate and, instinctively, he moved to put his arms around her and pull her close but she yelped in pain as he tried.  Startled, horrified, he backed off.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I did not mean to hurt you.”

She laughed it off, her lips red and moist from his attention. “Not to worry,” she assured him. “It is of little consequence considering I have been waiting for weeks for you to kiss me as you just did.”

His grin returned, as did his hands to her face. “Why did you not tell me this?”

It was her turn to look horrified. “And risk your rejection, or worse? You would have thought me to been a horribly forward creature.”

“I would have thought you to have given me an invitation of a lifetime.”

She giggled and he kissed her again, being very mindful of her injuries.  But he had duties to attend to, much as he was reluctant to leave her. Only when Val swore she would not leave the bed and would wait impatiently for his return did he force himself away from her. Heart racing and limbs tingling, he quit the knight’s quarters.

Tevin wondered why Myles had such a huge grin on his face when he saw him crossing the bailey a few minutes later.  Realizing he had just come from the knight’s quarters, he began to suspect why.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The day had been long and tense, bouts of fear coming in waves as the sun traveled the sky.  Sometimes, Cantia was quite calm, but other times, she was in tears of terror. Yet none of those feelings were particularly productive. As Cantia sat in her prison along with Hunt and Arabel, she truly wondered what was to become of them.

The camp had been active all day. At least, what she could hear from inside her dark and smelly prison made the place appear very active. Sounds of people were all around her, shouting, working, doing what they needed to do in order to survive. After Gillywiss had left them, no one had bothered them except for a woman who had come to bring them food.  She brought them a rather large fare of small apples, pears, three roasted rabbits, and two large loaves of dark bread. Cantia and the children had eaten until they nearly burst.

With bellies full, they were able to think more clearly. Arabel still seemed to be feeling poorly, having slept all morning and in to the afternoon, and Cantia was very concerned for the girl.  There was a hole dug in the ground in one corner of the hut that they quickly discovered was the chamber pot because it smelled up the entire room. Cantia had helped the girl use it, once, as Hunt sat on the other end of the hut and faced the wall to afford Arabel some privacy. 

Arabel had been embarrassed that she required such assistance but there wasn’t much she could do about it, so she thanked Cantia profusely for her kindness and swore she’d be as little trouble as possible.  Cantia had merely smiled and touched the girl’s cheek affectionately.  As a mother, it was in her nature to be helpful to a child and she truly didn’t mind.  Every time she looked into that beautiful face, she saw Tevin.  She was happy to do what she could.

The dusk settled cool and dark, and as the moon began to rise, silver shadows were cast upon the land.  Owls hooted and other creatures of the night rooted around for the supper as Cantia sat on the ground next to Hunt, her arms around the boy as the hut grew very cold and dark.  As she rocked Hunt, attempting to lull him to sleep, the door to the hut jerked open.

Startled, Cantia stopped rocking her child as Gillywiss entered the chamber and pulled the door shut behind him.  He had a fish oil lamp in his hand, a bowl of liquefied fat with a floating wick that gave off a significant amount of smoke and light.  His dark eyes found her in the dim hut and, as she had seen earlier in the day, he flashed her a rather crazed expression complete with big toothy smile.

“My lady,” he greeted. “And how are you faring on this beautiful night?”

Cantia was in no mood for his jovial attitude. “Cold,” she said flatly. “It is cold and dark in here.”

He looked around as if just noticing the darkness.  “So it is,” he said, finding more interest in her bags over by the wall. “Do you not have something warm to wear?”

Cantia watched him set the lamp down and pull open a satchel. “We need a fire,” she said. “The children need warmth that cannot be provided by clothing.”

Gillywiss was back to digging around in her bags, pulling forth the garments he had so carefully replaced earlier in the day.  As Cantia watched, the man began pulling them on again, inspecting the fine fabric, running his fingers over the delicate stitching.  It was the second time that day he had come to put on her clothes and rifle through her belongings, and Cantia was quite curious about his behavior.  In moments like this, she could almost believe he was non-violent and rather sympathetic. In fact, she thought she might try to take advantage of his fascination for her wardrobe.

“My lord,” she said softly, “if you like the coats so much, I would happily exchange them for our freedom.”

Gillywiss looked up from the orange-colored surcoat he was presently inspecting. His dark eyes were curious on her, perhaps even interested, but before he could reply, Arabel spoke.

“My lord,” she said in her sweet, child-like voice. “I am the Lady Arabel du Reims.  My father is Viscount Winterton.  As Lady Cantia said, he will reward you greatly for delivering us to him, but I would like to offer you all that I have so that you may let us go.  I.. I have fifty gold crowns, some jewelry, a white goat and a black and white pony that I would give you if you will only let us go home. I promise I will have these things brought to you if you will... please, I just want to go home.”

The last words were spoken in tears.  Cantia went to the girl to comfort her, pulling her up into her arms and rocking her gently.  Arabel was so tiny that it was like holding Hunt on her lap, and Cantia soothed the girl softly.

Gillywiss was watching the exchange carefully.  He wasn’t very adept at hiding his feelings so he looked away, back to the satchel, and began to pull out more belongings. He could hear Arabel weeping and Cantia’s soft words, and it fed both his guilt and his irritation.  As his rummaging began to grow more agitated in motion, he began to realize there was someone beside him.  He turned to see Hunt’s big blue eyes gazing up at him.

“Do you have a boy?” the child asked.

Gillywiss seemed reluctant to answer but he did. “Nay,” he replied. “No boy. Just girls.”

“A wife?”

“She is dead.”

He turned his attention back to the bag and Hunt joined him.  The little boy reached into his mother’s bag and pulled forth a beaded belt, handing it to Gillywiss.  The man slowed his digging, meeting Hunt’s gaze with some reluctance. It was clear that he was having some difficulty ignoring what was going on around him. Arabel’s weeping was pathetic and sorrowful, and Gillywiss was feeling it.

“I am not a bad man,” he finally said, looking over at Arabel and Cantia. “There are those in this village who would slit a man’s throat as easily as speak to him, but I am not one of them. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“Please take my offer,” Arabel sobbed. “I want to go home. I want to see my father.”

Gillywiss looked at the frail young girl, his sense of remorse growing. He wasn’t any good at fighting off his feelings, torn between knowing he shouldn’t care yet inherently caring.  A sick child’s tears were not to be ignored.

“You would do this?” he finally asked her, some disbelief in his tone. “You would give me everything you own just to go home?”

Arabel nodded vigorously. “Aye, I would. Will you not accept, sir?”

Gillywiss pondered her words before letting his gaze move to Cantia and then to Hunt. He knew about the nobility of this country; he knew they were all arrogant and greedy, men and women included.  They sucked the peasants dry and still hungered for more. He’d spent his entire life knowing these facts, yet when he looked at Cantia and the children, he did not sense greed or arrogance.

In fact, he sensed a good deal of compassion, of intelligence, and of kindness, especially from Cantia. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, to be sure, and he knew he could sell her to the highest bidder for a great deal of money. But the truth was that he had no desire to sell her.  She intrigued him greatly. The whole family did, and he wasn’t exactly sure why.

“Tell me something,” he sat back on his bum, Cantia’s fine things still on his head or in his hand. “You have a desire only to see your father?”

Arabel nodded firmly. “Aye, sir.”

“Why not your mother? I do not understand the relation of this woman to you.  She says she is the viscount’s wife, yet she is not your mother?”

He was pointing at Cantia, who looked at Arabel as she thought of an explanation. “Arabel’s mother abandoned her when she was a baby,” Cantia said softly, hoping that if she divulged personal details, the man might feel more of a connection to them and, therefore, more sympathy in his decision to let them go. “She knows no mother.”

Gillywiss lifted an eyebrow. “But you are the viscount’s wife?”

Cantia hesitated a moment before shaking her head.  “Not in the eyes of the church,” she whispered. “But we are married in our hearts.  That will never change.”

Arabel hadn’t heard of the true relationship between her father and Lady Cantia when she had been at Rochester, but in truth she wasn’t surprised.  She had seen the way her father looked at Lady Cantia and, if she thought on it, she wasn’t all that upset about it. She liked Lady Cantia and she wanted her father to be happy. He was, in fact, a very lonely man, and Lady Cantia was very kind.  More than that, she understood why her father could not marry Cantia.  She was young, but she wasn’t ignorant in the least. Like her father, she was exceptionally bright.