Sharon Lanergan (13 page)

In the furthest corner were the oldest grave markings. Graves of the Loutrants who originally held the land. The Fitzroys hadn’t wanted to disturb the graves. Brian hadn’t paid them much heed while growing up.

For some reason he could not have explained, he was drawn to them now. He went down a narrow path taking him away from the Fitzroys. The path was overgrown with weeds and brush and his boots crunched in the faded brown leaves that had fallen from the ancient tree above the graves.

Brian glanced down as he walked. Next to his boot prints were others. Frowning, he stopped and bent down to examine the other set. Had one of his brothers been to see the graves of the past Loutrants? It seemed unlikely.

Brian stood and continued down the path until he reached the marking of the first Loutrant. The man’s name had been Finius too. He’d come over from Normandy with the conqueror.

Brian crouched and stared at the worn wooden cross. Something glistened at the base of the cross, there in the mud. He reached out and closed his hand around the object.

Turning his hand over, he studied it. A golden ring with the head of a lion. He knew this ring. It belonged to Loutrant.

Chapter Eighteen

“Are you unwell this eve?” Constance asked Brian, watching him pick at the leg of mutton on the trencher before him.

Brian merely smiled. He returned his attention to the mutton.

“Brian?”

“Aye?”

“Is the mutton not to your liking?” Constance tried again.

He’d been quiet most of the afternoon since coming inside. She did not know where he’d spent his morning time.

“‘Tis fine,” he said, putting a piece of the dry stringy meat into his mouth.

Constance hoped he would not withdraw back into himself now.

She placed her hand over his and waited for him to meet her gaze. When he did, she smiled.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Brian hesitated, then shook his head.

“Very well,” Constance said. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?”

Constance glanced around and saw Lucien and Stephen were engrossed in their own conversation. Trevor seemed lost in his own world.

“Not here,” Constance lowered her voice. “In your room.”

She realized how desperate she must have sounded. It had been a couple of days since they’d last made love and while it was true she wanted to be with Brian, this was not what this was about.

Brian’s gaze darkened, but he merely nodded.

Constance nearly blew out a breath of relief. She indicated his trencher. “You may finish your meal.”

“Nay, I do not seem to have an appetite for mutton just now.”

They both stood and Constance once more glanced at the other men in the room. They did not look their way, for which Constance was grateful. She knew they must have noticed she and Brian spent a lot of time together.

Once they were safely alone in Brian’s room, Constance wasn’t sure how to begin.

Brian knelt by the fire, poking at it to bring it back to life, his back to her. For a moment she contentedly watched him.

He’d always been an extraordinarily handsome man, even when his years of imprisonment had cost him so much of his former frame. Even in his worst condition, when she’d spent time with him in Loutrant’s hellish dungeon, Brian moved with a rare masculine grace.

But now that he’d been training for long periods throughout the days, his body was returning to a well-muscled form. The fabric of his undershirt strained against his arms as he reached forward to stir the embers.

Constance licked her lips. She should not be thinking about making love with him, not now when she wanted to speak about the scraps of material he had in his possession.

Her gaze trailed to his buttocks and his strongly-built legs. Lord, she was in danger of salivating like some animal over its supper. Her nipples tightened under her gown.

Brian rose from the fire and turned to face her. His expression was unreadable in the shadows of the flames.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asked.

Constance shook her head and took the few steps it would take to stand directly in front of him. She encircled her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

Brian groaned low in his throat and pulled her close against him. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth.

All thoughts of talking went into the fire with the burning wood. Constance thought only of Brian and what wonders his tongue could do.

Brian scooped her up into his arms and moved toward the bed, or so Constance thought. Instead she found herself buttressed against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist.

She watched him take a half step back to undo his breeches. His erection tumbled out and she bit her lip in anticipation.

“Brian,” she whispered, eager to have him fill her.

He hurriedly pushed up her gown to the waist, baring her to his passion-filled gaze.

“Lord, you’re so beautiful,” Brian breathed, lifting her buttocks slightly and entering her. They both gasped at the contact.

She’d never been made love to before with her gown still on and the sensation of the material rubbing against her swollen nipples was incredible.

And each time Brian thrust deeper inside her, she was slammed against the wall. To Constance it was decadent.

In the past Brian had been almost gentle with her, but tonight he was desperate and forceful. She might have been frightened if he’d been anyone but Brian. He would never hurt her.

Because of their intense, quickened moves they were both close to their fulfillment. Their lips locked and as Constance gave herself to her release, she felt Brian fill her.

Their bodies remained joined for several heartbeats, her legs entwined across his buttocks. Constance leaned her head on his shoulder, waiting for her breathing to return to its normal pace.

When it had, Brian eased out of her. He did not let her slip to the ground, but instead walked her over to his bed and placed her there. He lay beside her and pulled her close until they both drifted into troubled sleep.

****

Brian took the missive Lucien handed him the next morning over his morning meal of hard, crusty bread and cold meats. He set it aside without glancing at it.

Lucien frowned and took his seat next to Brian on the bench. They were the only ones who had risen in the barely dawn-lit morning other than servants.

“Aren’t you going to read that? It arrived just moments ago.”

Brian shrugged and took a large bite of the bread. He was famished. Probably because he’d spent the better part of the night swiving Constance.

“You do see it bears the king’s seal,” Lucien remarked, tapping it with a long finger.

Brian glanced at it. “So it does.”

“And you are not concerned?”

Brian sighed. “Luc, whatever the contents they can wait until I have had my fill of the meal.”

Lucien nodded but hardly seemed satisfied. He kept his gaze trained on the missive.

“Is there something on your mind?” Brian asked him.

Lucien reddened. “You know the king lost his favorite recently.”

“You mean by lost several earls and barons had him killed.” Brian smirked.

“Aye.”

“So?”

Lucien toyed with the elaborate purple ribbon tied around the scroll. “I fear he is in the market for a new favorite.”

“Ah.” Brian nodded. Now he knew why Lucien looked cornered.

Lucien darkened another shade of red. “I do not find this amusing, Brian. When the king was here before, he made his interest rather clear.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Luc, he would hardly send a missive to us ordering you to the palace as his…”

“What does it say?” Lucien asked, cutting him off.

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Brian untied the purple ribbon and cast it aside. He unrolled the parchment and scanned the contents.

“What does it say?” Lucien asked again, this time yet more anxious.

“He is coming for a visit in a few days’ time,” Brian told him. He handed the missive to his brother.

Lucien eyed it as though it were an insect. “I knew it.”

“It says naught about you,” Brian pointed out, curious himself as to why the king would pay them a visit so close to his last one.

“It doesn’t need to. When he arrives he will say, ‘Lucien, attend me’. Like last time.”

Brian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He decided to take pity upon his brother.

“Mayhap you will be bedridden with a fever.”

Lucien stared. “What?”

“We will think upon it later,” Brian said, coming to a quick decision. If the king was paying a visit, whatever the reason, they would have to be on their guard to protect his majesty. It was time he shared his thoughts with his brother. “Luc, bring Stephen and Trevor to me. I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” Lucien asked.

“When the others are here,” Brian insisted, waving his hand. “Go and fetch them.”

****

Constance tapped lightly on the cottage door. “Agnes?”

The door opened almost immediately and the old woman stood there smiling.

“Constance! What a pleasure. Come in, come in.”

Agnes stepped aside to allow Constance access. It was a simple two-room cottage, the back room reserved for sleeping. Constance had always been surprised Hugh hadn’t insisted his mistress live in finer quarters.

“What brings you my way?” Agnes asked.

“‘Tis such a lovely day I decided to go for a walk, and then I thought of you.”

Agnes grinned. “It is a beautiful day. The first truly fine one we’ve had in many a day. Shall we sit on the steps outside?”

And so they moved outside to the short stone steps by Agnes’s front door.

The sun-filled day was perfect. Not a cloud overhead and not even the hint of a breeze. Just warm, delicious sun. All around them the flora and fauna, the birds and the bees. Even the air was scented with the sweet smell of wild flowers.

They fell into a companionable silence for several moments, each of them content to bask in the day.

Constance hugged her knees and wrapped her arms around them. How long had it been since she’d come to see Agnes? Since she first met the minstrel.

“Agnes, do you remember when I came here last?” Constance asked, breaking the silence.

Agnes nodded. “You told me you were in love.”

“What a fool I was,” Constance berated herself. “I did not know what love was then.”

“Many a maiden has been fooled by a pretty face, Constance. ‘Tis no shame to be among them.”

“I should have seen his evil,” she insisted.

Agnes sighed and patted Constance’s knee. “Darling, as I recall he deliberately hid his true nature. Aye, even his identity. You could not have known.”

Constance didn’t reply. She couldn’t help blame herself for what happened, and in some part, for what happened to Trevor. Loutrant had been emboldened by her abduction.

“Loutrant is dead now,” Agnes pointed out. “Mayhap you should put the past aside.”

“I don’t think I can, Agnes.” Constance glanced at Agnes and saw the older woman was studying her intently. “Lately I have been having terrible dreams about him. They are so real.” She shuddered.

“‘Tis not so unusual.”

“These are so real it seems as though he can reach out and pull me in with him.” Constance wanted to block the images.

“I know. I had dreams for a long time.”

Constance glanced in surprise. “Agnes?”

“Aye, I was raped and brutalized by a man once.”

“When?”

“Oh, ‘twas a long time ago. I was younger than you are now.” Agnes shook her head. “I had just turned fifteen in the spring. My father was a mercenary and we lived in the village near where he currently sold his sword.”

Agnes rested her chin in her hands, looking thoughtful.

“I didn’t fancy myself in love as you did. I’d gone up to the castle looking for my father and I met up with the baron of the castle. He was drunk.”

“Oh, Agnes, I’m sorry,” Constance whispered.

“He raped and beat me, left me for dead among the trees next to his castle. I’m sure he thought I’d never be found.” She remained quiet for a moment, her steel-colored eyes sad. “Anyway, one of the stable lads found me and knowing where I lived, brought me home. My father was furious, but in the end, both he and my mother decided they could do nothing against the baron, and we left.”

“How awful.”

Agnes nodded. “Aye, for a long time I had dreams with him in it. Each one worse than the one before. But eventually they faded and even disappeared. Give it some time, darling.”

“At least you could not help what happened to you,” Constance said. “I encouraged Loutrant.”

“Constance.”

“‘Tis true.” She sighed. “I turned against Nick and slept with the minstrel.”

“You were never meant for Nick,” Agnes replied. “We all know now. You should forgive yourself.”

“I cannot,” Constance admitted in a hoarse whisper.

Agnes smiled at a bird chirping nearby, then turned her attention back to Constance.

“Then let me ask you this,” the older woman said. “How do you feel about Brian?”

For a moment, Constance could only stare. How did she feel about him? Lord, she adored him. Lived for the moment she could see him.

“It’s wonderful to have him home,” Constance said.

Agnes chuckled. “And there’s nothing else, hmm?”

“What else should there be?” Constance looked away from the old woman’s knowing eyes.

“Don’t forget, darling, I loved his father.”

Constance glanced back at Agnes and returned her smile. “Aye, I know.”

“They’re good men, the Fitzroys. Handsome, strong, and brave.” Agnes reached for her hand. “Are you in love with him?”