Rhuddlan (48 page)

The door to Longsword’s chamber was closed.
He stared at it and frowned. He would have sworn he’d left it open;
it was always left open. He swayed slightly as he pondered what the
closed door might mean and then his brow cleared. Of course! With
the current influx of strangers at Rhuddlan, some well-meaning
servant must have shut it to ward off curious eyes. Or maybe the
earl of Chester was waiting within, having found him much more
attractive than Teleri. The idea was so preposterous he laughed
aloud, and was still laughing when he pushed the door open so hard
that it hit the inside wall and bounced back almost enough to hit
him.

The grin died on his face slowly. There she
was; she was there. Standing in the middle of the floor, hands
clasped, face anxious. Her hair shone from the reflection of the
candlelight from the nearby tripod, her dark, somber eyes were
fixed on him…Was it a dream? He couldn’t help but blink several
times…

Gwalaes curtsied hastily. “My lord, I
apologize for coming—”

“What are you doing here?” Then, realizing he
might have sounded brusque, added, “Is everything all right?”

“I needed to speak with you privately, my
lord,” she said, ignoring the question. Her voice was quiet,
nervous. “I’m sorry; I’m sure you’re tired, but it’s
important…”

He stared at her, feeling suddenly calm
although, strangely enough, his heart was thudding strongly. “No,
I’m fine. What is it?”

“I think I know where Gladys is,” she
said.

“Oh?”

“I think she’s in the Perfeddwlad.”

“The Perfeddwlad?” His eyes narrowed. Teleri!
Hadn’t he known all along she was behind this? “Why do you think
that?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t want to say…”

“Well, I want you to say!” He walked around
her and sat on the corner of his bed. He bent over and started
unlacing his boots, cursing his wife underbreath. When Gwalaes
didn’t answer, he looked up expectantly. “Well?”

“It’s—it’s just a feeling I have, my
lord.”

“Did Teleri say anything to you?”

“That Gladys was there? No, my lord.”

He pulled one boot off and tossed it into a
far corner of the room. He leaned forward, hands on thighs. “So why
do you think it?”

Gwalaes hesitated. He was on the verge of
telling her to forget it, he didn’t need to know because he was so
mesmerized by her steady gaze. He felt as if he had known that face
all his life. He remembered how soft and soothing her hands had
been when he’d lain helpless in that same bed, how patiently she’d
spooned broth into his mouth, how encouraging the words she’d
spoken to him…He had to break the stare and bend over his other
boot before he embarrassed himself in front of her. His head spun;
all the wine he’d drunk at supper and with Delamere was now
asserting itself and he had to fight to keep from giving in to it
and taking her in his arms—

“Lady Teleri was the first one to notice that
Gladys was missing,” she said finally. “And she’s been melancholy
lately; unable to sleep, moping in her chambers…Her women have told
me she’s homesick. I just thought, why would she be homesick if she
hadn’t been thinking a lot about the Perfeddwlad, and why would she
be thinking about the Perfeddwlad if she hadn’t arranged for Gladys
to be taken there?” She looked a little embarrassed. “I could be
wrong, of course…”

Longsword pushed off the second boot with his
foot and kicked it across the room. “Damn it!”

She came to stand before him, her expression
earnest. “Please, my lord, you won’t confront Lady Teleri, will
you? I don’t know for certain that anything I’ve said is true—”

“Yet you believe it or you wouldn’t have told
me!” he said.

“I do believe it, but I’m telling you for a
different reason.”

There was a subtle change in her tone,
something which took her from hesitant and deferential to resolved
and urgent. Even her eyes had changed; her gaze was now
intense.

“What is it?”

“My lord, I need your protection. I’m
offering you this information about Gladys in exchange for it.”

He was startled. “Protection from Lady
Teleri?”

She seemed to catch her breath. “No, my
lord.”

He frowned, puzzled. “Who then?”

“The earl of Chester, my lord,” she said
quietly.

“Chester!” Longsword repeated. He stared at
her. “Why?”

She held his gaze. “I have good reason to
believe he means me harm, my lord. On my own, I can’t fight him but
with your protection I think he’ll leave me alone.”

“I don’t understand how this is possible,
Gwalaes! The man only just arrived—and has spent most of his stay
so far in conversation with my wife!”

“My lord, he lured me into the chapel tonight
by sending me a message said to have come from Sir Alan d’Arques,”
she said.

His jaw nearly dropped. D’Arques again! He
hadn’t known she was used to meeting him in the chapel. “Oh? What
did he want?”

“He—he gave me warning, my lord.”

Had the earl found out about her meetings
with the young knight and wanted to put a stop to it—because he had
designs on Alan d’Arques himself? Was this the reason he wanted to
harm Gwalaes? “Warning about what?” he asked, his voice
suspicious.

She wouldn’t look at him. “I can’t say, my
lord.”

Longsword was no longer
bewildered, only angry. He wanted to ask her why Alan d’Arques
wasn’t good enough to protect her from the earl but despite himself
was flattered she had asked
him
to do it. Obviously she was uncertain of d’Arques’
ability but confident in his. He felt calmer, a bit more secure. It
wasn’t much but it was something…

Then he realized that he was, of course, the
most logical choice for role of protector; he was the one in charge
at Rhuddlan. Nearly all his good will drained away then, leaving
just the anger behind. He’d been a fool. What he had wanted to
believe she’d done out of affection, she had really done out of
duty. It was Alan d’Arques whom she loved, not him.

“I can’t see what possible harm Chester can
do to you,” he said stiffly, “but if you want my protection, you
have it.” She smiled and started to speak, but he held up his hand
to forestall her effusive thanks. “However,” he added, “I expect
more in payment than this—this guess as to Gladys’ whereabouts. You
believe she’s in the Perfeddwlad; Richard is equally certain she’s
at the abbey.”

“Sir Richard may be correct,” she agreed
cautiously. Her face was sober again. “What other payment can I
give you, my lord? I haven’t any money; nothing even to barter
with…”

He stood up. The blood
pounded in his ears. “I want
you
,” he said.

She didn’t move. She said nothing for a
moment and when she finally spoke her voice was strained. “I don’t
understand…”

He almost relented when he realized she was
frightened. But the image of Alan d’Arques flashed ruthlessly
through his mind and he hardened his heart. She was asking him to
do something for her; why shouldn’t he get a bit of what d’Arques
got in return?

“It’s simple enough,” he said. He thought he
ought to have felt ashamed of what he was asking but he didn’t
because he wanted her so badly. He couldn’t stop staring at her,
couldn’t stop imagining what her dark hair would look like when she
removed the band, loosened it from its braid and it fell around her
face, couldn’t stop thinking about her long legs, her fingertips,
the heat of her skin…He walked up to her and put his hands on her
shoulders. He felt her body tense but she didn’t pull away. He bent
his head and covered her lips with his own.

It felt as good as he’d always suspected.
What other evidence did he need to prove she was meant for him? He
broke away, the taste of her lips potent in his memory. He stared
into her eyes. “This is what I mean,” he whispered hoarsely.

He waited for her to decide; there would be
no joy in it otherwise, although he had to fight the urge to just
rip away her gown and carry her to the bed. His breathing was
heavy. He didn’t know how much longer he could wait.

And then…then, her face composed and blank,
she reached up her arms and clasped her hands together behind his
neck…and pulled his head down to hers.

Chapter 32

April, 1177

Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd

He had Gwalaes in his arms. Her hair was soft
and endless and he pressed her close and buried his face in her
neck, letting the fine strands fall across his head. Her skin was
warm and pulsed beneath his cheek. He moved his lips towards her
mouth…

Suddenly he felt her body stiffen. He glanced
up. The earl of Chester stood in the doorway to the bedchamber, his
expression, as usual, unreadable but there was no mistaking his
intent when he slowly pulled the sword from his belt. Gwalaes
gripped his arm. “You swore to protect me…” she whispered.

He took up his sword and suddenly he and
Chester were exchanging swipes and cuts. When their swords met, the
clangs reverberated off the walls; the sound became deafening and
began to echo in his head; from far away, a voice called his
name—

Longsword awoke with a start. Someone was
pounding on his door. A faint light filtered in through the edges
of the closed shutters. He looked down but he was alone. Still,
even if the dream wasn’t fresh in his mind, he would have
remembered the night.

“Come in, for God’s sake!” he shouted at the
door.

It opened quickly. Ralph de Vire appeared on
the threshold. “My lord, are you all right?” he asked, concern
apparent on his face.

The question seemed strange to Longsword. He
flipped the rumpled cover back and swung his bare legs over the
edge of the bed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

De Vire grinned at the familiar, querulous
tone and relaxed. “It’s just that you’re always up before any of
us. We thought perhaps the wound…Well, anyway, there’s the hunt
today.”

Longsword’s hand involuntarily reached up to
press the side of his neck and the small ridge of the scar which
adorned it. Almost two months had passed since he’d been shot. The
spot was numb if he touched it directly but the pain caused by
moving his shoulder had gone. Although he felt so good this morning
he doubted he would feel a thing if Rhirid shot a whole slew of
arrows into him.

“I overslept.” He stood up, stretched with
his arms straight up in the air and yawned. “Toss me that tunic on
the floor, will you? Where’s Richard?”

De Vire stooped to pick up the various bits
of clothing Longsword had discarded haphazardly the night before.
“Sir Richard also overslept, my lord. He’s sitting at the table
with a pitcher of weak ale and cursing every time someone speaks
too loudly.”

“The earl?”

“He and Lady Teleri attended Mass not long
ago and have just sat down to breakfast.”

Even that bit of information
failed to rouse his ire, despite the fact that not once during
their marriage had Teleri joined
him
at Mass. But the mention of his wife’s name
reminded him of an important matter.

Everything was falling into place, he thought
with satisfaction as he left his chambers. He finally had Gwalaes
and he knew where Gladys was. All that remained was to get rid of
the earl, his scowling captain and their score of retainers. Teleri
would once again keep to her suite and then he would be a very
happy man.

He felt content enough this morning at any
rate; well-rested and fresh. He thought he must have slept like a
dead man for the first time since he was a boy. He felt so good
that he whistled a tuneless air as he jogged down the stair and
entered the hall. De Vire hurried to keep up with him, perplexed by
behavior he’d never before witnessed from his master.

Longsword had never stood on ceremony which
required the ebb and flow of the castle’s activities to follow his
habits so the tables and benches had long been set up for the
morning meal. There was a hasty shuffle of feet as everyone
scrambled to stand up when he appeared. His gaze went immediately
to the high table. Delamere nodded to him and sat down again
heavily. Teleri and Chester had not risen and watched him
imperturbably. His wife’s head was tilted up; her face bore a
mocking smile. Longsword wanted to laugh out loud. Did she honestly
believe he could be made jealous by any attention the earl of
Chester might pay to her?

He stood next to her chair and nodded to the
earl. “My lord, good morning,” he said and Hugh responded in kind.
“Teleri, I would like a word with you,” he said to his wife.

She speared a sliver of cheese with her
cutting knife. “Of course. When I’ve done with my meal.”

“Now, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind. I’m eating.” She glanced at the
earl, and although Longsword couldn’t see her face, he saw what
surely must have been Chester’s sympathetic smile in response.

He leaned close enough to her to whisper into
her ear. “If you don’t get up from this chair right now, I’ll grab
your arm and drag you off just like the animal you claim I am.”

She glared at him. “Very well. I’m
listening.”

“In private, Teleri.”

She hesitated for only a moment. Then, with a
stony face, she dropped her knife and pushed back her chair. She
turned towards Hugh and with a brief, dazzling smile excused
herself from the table, and then she marched off towards the
council chamber without a second glance at her husband.

Longsword closed the door
and stood with his back against it, watching Teleri come to a halt
in the center of the room and turn around very deliberately to face
him. Not once in all the time he’d known her had she ever seemed
afraid of him and now was no exception. Her chin was lifted and her
expression was angry. If he admitted the truth to himself, he was a
little afraid of
her
; he had a strong suspicion of people who were quick with
words. He didn’t relish the prospect of another argument, not after
the pleasant night he’d had and certainly not with someone who
always seemed to beat him but if Gwalaes’ speculation was true,
then he wanted to know the reason behind it.