Memories of the Heart (16 page)

While Tal's lips returned to claim the sweet nectar of Ceri's mouth, with one hand at her nape he held her steady for their potent exchange. His other hand set to work removing pins that freed her plait and then moved to loosen its heavy rope and thread his fingers through the ebony silk.

Ceri moaned and twisted about to align herself more fully against this source of impossible delights.

It was a wordless demand sufficient for Tal to answer by cradling Ceri in the security of his embrace while rising to carry to his bed this sweet delight plainly unaware of her intimate danger. Another pang of guilt struck but Tal was far, far too lost in his own hungry need to heed the warning fairly screamed.

Although feeling herself lowered to a most comfortable surface, Ceri was too lost in pleasures to waste attention on changing surroundings.

As Tal's mouth left Ceri's to trail fire across her cheeks, she arched her head back. This action laid the white satin of Ceri's elegant throat vulnerable to a mouth that promptly followed its path, leaving her dazed by the sparks of delight erupting wherever he touched.

When impeded by a tie fastening the front laces holding this enticing angel's gown closed, Tal nuzzled the dip below while beginning to loosen the unwelcome barrier. Once able to even slightly tug cloth edges apart, his mouth dipped to the quivering tops of breasts he ached to see, yearned to touch.

Ceri's fingers instinctively twined into the cool, dark strands of his hair, urging this source of hot pleasures nearer still.

Lips nuzzling lower, Tal continued impatiently tugging at restraining cords, anxious to free her bounty to the searing hunger of his gaze and ravishment of lips hovering a whisper above.

Successful at last with a task delayed by haste-tangled fingers, Tal spread wide the simple green gown's neckline and lowered his hungry mouth. Ceri was overcome by the shocking sensation of melting fire rushing through her veins and writhed against the master of her desire in helpless response.

Lost to honorable intent, Tal's strong arms pulled Ceri's pliant body tight to the long length of his form. While he buried his face in the tender curve between her shoulder and throat, Ceri exalted in his strength. She willingly yielded to urgent hands sweeping from nape to the base of her spine, where they molded her hips against the hard muscles of his thighs.

Anxious to be rid of the only impediment to the sweet fulfillment of urgent needs, Tal shoved the offending cloth of her gown aside before completely stripping it from her body. When her luscious form lay bare to his burning gaze a soft whimper slipped from her tight throat, earning a satisfied smile from the man intoxicated by the sound.

Still Tal held back, purposely driving Ceri deeper into the vortex of fiery hunger at his command. He mercilessly teased her senses with shocking pleasures until she arched against him, striving to bring the source of such delicious torment even nearer.

With a deep growl Tal pulled away but only far enough and long enough to divest himself of clothing with a haste all unheeding of care or cost.

Ceri watched with desire-hazed eyes to marvel as the superbly masculine image of the nude man was revealed—powerful enough to steal her breath. She immediately lifted her arms and Tal surrendered to honeyed temptation by pulling her into the hungry cradle of his arms.

Dark eyes closed he savored the feel of soft flesh melded to the hard contours of his body while Ceri clung to his strong back. Overwhelmed anew by blazing sensations, Ceri's mind ceased all rational thought. As his hand slid down her satin back and turned her hips full against his, she shifted restlessly, wanting to be closer, wanting something more.

Ceri's enticing, inciting motions drove Tal beyond any hope of restraint. Rising above, resting on his forearms, he gazed down into eyes gone near to black with her wanting of him as slowly he joined their bodies in the most intimate of embraces.

Shaking with a depth of desire previously unknown, Ceri pressed even closer as he began to rhythmically rock them ever deeper into the firestorm. She followed his hard, sharp movements into a burning well of pleasure near too deep to be borne and toward a goal just beyond reach. Then, at last, a fierce explosion burst their sphere into a shower of incredible delights.

An endless time later while drifting through the warm, golden haze of the passionate explosion's afterglow, Ceri nestled into Tal's strong embrace as he gently dropped soft kisses on her forehead, eyes, and cheeks.

“You are the embodiment of my sweetest dreams,” Tal whispered into Ceri's ear.

“As you are mine,” Ceri answered just as earnestly before shyly burying her face into the crook of his neck. “I would not wish to live in a world where you were not.” Recognizing her own words as the portal to something that needed to be said, she dared to add, “So I beg you to take great care.”

Tal pulled slightly back to gaze with surprise at this tender damsel cautioning a great warrior to safety. Beyond wry amusement with the broad scope of her words, they prodded uncomfortable suspicion to revived life. One Tal immediately attempted to smother. Ceri was surely too honest in all ways to be a part of foul deeds—leastwise he sincerely wanted to believe reality lay in his own assessment of her nature.

By the fact that the devastating man so near seemed to have become cold stone, Ceri knew that her warning had roused doubts. Yet, desperately wishing to ensure Tal's continued health, she renewed her efforts by repeating advice first given in a Welsh cottage, an admonishment erased from his memory by the conclusion of a spell.

“While seeking to disarm and stifle foes, I pray you'll look beyond your political enemies to also delve into the true characters of others much closer.” Ceri realized how implausible it was for a female servant to counsel her lord on this subject but she felt driven to do all possible no matter the personal cost.

“Consider those who wrongly blame you for the ills of their lives.” She gazed unwavering into dark eyes gone wary. “Those who count you responsible for deeds not done or nurse unjustified grudges.”

Tal immediately wondered if Ceri meant to warn him against her guardian. Was she not aware that Lloyd already resided in the dungeons below? That possibility was shattered by her next observation.

“Whoever else may be your enemy, you must know that it is
not
my lifelong friend, Lloyd.” Ceri earnestly pled for the Welshman. “I know him as well as I know myself and am certain he would no more take such steps against his own lord than would I.”

“Hah!” Tal tried to tame but couldn't eradicate the scorn in his voice. “You suggest I look for those with grudges? Well, who better fits that description than the man you defend?”

“Lloyd?” Ceri numbly said. How could the Welshman seldom far from Llechu possibly be deemed to have a grudge against the Norman earl?

“Surely—” An ironic smile tilted Tal's lips. “You are aware that Lloyd has never forgiven anyone at Castle Westbourne for what he views as the misdeed of stealing Vevina from his arms?”

Ceri was startled yet at the same time realized she had abruptly been given the answer to an important question. From the day of her arrival she'd uneasily wondered what more lay between the two than had been shared with her.

“You must know that they were once betrothed?” By her expression, an odd mix of lingering bewilderment and sudden comprehension, Tal wondered if she'd ever been told of this fact.

Painful confusion seemed to darken misty green eyes—but Tal was uncertain whether it was sincere or merely a skillful ruse. The adept tactician in Tal demanded the answer to an uncomfortable question. Had the sweet fires of their delicious interlude hidden a darker purpose? Still, despite unwelcome suspicions, Tal couldn't stifle his fear that the angel's tender soul had been bruised. And by his deep concern for Ceri's happiness, Tal was forced to acknowledge another fact long evaded.

Although he would soon to be formally betrothed to the cold child from Farleith, Tal's heart was dangerously near to melting in surrender beneath the heat of potent charms wielded by this Welshwoman—but was she witch or angel?

Was Ceri a dark enchantress fogging his normally clear perceptions with her wiles or had he taken advantage of a vulnerable angel by ordering her to his bedchamber? Tal hadn't issued the command with immoral intentions and yet its effect had been the same. The news of which was certain to flower and spread rapidly over the castle's gossip vines.

Chapter 13

Deep in the dungeons of Castle Westbourne's lowest level the air was chill and damp. Lloyd laid on his back atop a pile of musty straw while staring blindly into the utter darkness surrounding his cramped, iron-barred cell.

Time had a laggardly pace when it moved without any method to mark the endless passing of its hours between day and night. And for one who had spent his life ruled by nature's rhythms, this was a disorienting and depressing reality.

As the dungeon's sole prisoner, Lloyd's stay had at first been deafeningly quiet. But as unmarked time passed he'd come to recognize a faint good in this solitude. It allowed him to ponder the actions which had led him here and the purposes behind them.

Initially furious that he'd been named the perpetrator of a deed in which he was innocent, Lloyd's basic honesty had soon disallowed such nonsense. Perhaps, Lloyd ruefully admitted, it was only fair since he
was
responsible for playing a major role in an earlier attempt—although he'd only led the way over familiar paths through Welsh forests and hadn't shot the arrows then, either.

There was guilt enough in having plotted against his honorable and worthy lord, but that shame was intensified a hundredfold by the knowledge that his action also meant he'd sought to aid in harming his own daughter's beloved. The fact that his paternity was as much of a secret as the details of his past treachery only deepened Lloyd's regret. He fervently wished it were possible to live his life over while possessing the knowledge gained in making all too many wrong choices.

When a faint gleam appeared in the deep gloom on the dungeon's far side Lloyd sat up. Was another sorry excuse for a meal arriving?

Although hungry Lloyd's half-starved belly had rejected the erratic deliveries of some vile slop stewed from indeterminate but clearly rotting ingredients. Unfortunately, he'd had no choice but to drink the accompanying slime-befouled water.

A single tallow candle's weak and flickering flame did so little to alleviate the dungeon's oppressive darkness that Lloyd could distinguish nothing of the one carrying this small spot of light while hesitantly approaching.

“Lloyd, where are you?”

“Who asks?” Lloyd immediately responded although the query was posed by one whose voice had instantly earned stunned recognition. How could it be true?

Unseen beyond the boundaries of his visitor's weak circle of light, Lloyd rose to his feet. Having long since measured the distance, Lloyd took the two short paces forward necessary to firmly grip the bars of his small cage and peer searchingly toward the one approaching.

“Shhh—” The irritable sound was an impatient warning and blatant proof of the speaker's unwilling participation in performing this task. “I've come to free you.”

Lloyd's brows arched in surprise despite already knowing the speaker's identity. What was Sir Ulrich's brother doing here? Well acquainted since childhood, he was very much aware that Simeon and Ulrich were anything but close. Or was that it? Had Simeon come to help him for the sake of spiting Ulrich, captain of the garrison who'd taken him captive?

The grating noise of a key being inserted into a lock told Lloyd that someone from among Westbourne's own must be a part of this deed. How else could this always well-guarded key, now the source of his freedom from Lord Taliesan's dungeon, lay in the hands of an unwelcome supporter of King Stephen?

The creaking of metal hinges was so loud that it would've betrayed his flight had anyone been near enough to hear. Fortunately for Lloyd, since there'd never been an escape from Westbourne's dungeon, guards were rarely posted within.

The rescuer's flickering candle showed the way as the pair crossed the dungeon's broad expanse filled with empty cells that hosted naught but scattered straw gone fetid.

Only as they approached the corner steps did it occur to Lloyd to wonder how their departure through an always crowded stairwell could possibly go unnoticed. Was his flight doomed to so rapid an end?

“Here, put this on.” Simeon's order was brusque but still much quieter than the cell door's clangorous opening had been.

A bundle of coarse dark cloth was thrust into Lloyd's hands. He lost no moment in shaking out the folds to reveal a simple, hooded cloak long enough to reach his toes and well able to ensure that both his face and form would blend into night shadows. By this Lloyd realized the hour must be late—a logical time for such an attempt. The castle would be quiet and likely few would be about to stir the deserted stairwell's silence. There would be guards but in the black garb provided, he and Simeon would pass unseen.

*   *   *

In dim predawn light, Ceri slipped through a still sleeping castle to reach the alcove shared with her aunt. Ducking though the curtains lending it privacy, she came to a shocked halt.

“The hour for rising is near upon us.” Vevina's expression was as stern as her voice. “By the fact that you failed to tarry the night here, I assume you spent it in a far different, more comfortable bed—Lord Taliesan's?”

Ceri's immediate nod had less to do with the fact that she'd been caught completely unprepared than the honesty of her nature.

“Did I not warn you of the anguish you tempt with such actions?” Vevina's tone changed to pained concern for the misdeed's likely result.

“Aye, you warned me but I knew that danger even before I journeyed here to Castle Westbourne.” Sincerely sorry to have caused her aunt this obvious distress, with a penitent smile Ceri reached out to gently clasp the older woman's hand while settling down near her on the down-filled mattress.