Spectre of the Sword (13 page)

“And I am telling you,
they have tried before. I’ll be missing fingers if I come off of this wall.”

“I can promise you that
you will not.  Come down from there before you ruin your new coat.”

She shook her head,
hard. It was clear she would not leave the safety of the wall without
assistance. With a sigh, he reached out and scooped her off of the mossy
stones. He expected her to put her arm around his shoulders for support; what
he did not expect was for her to throw both arms around his neck and hold him
tightly. It was surprising, and enticing, leaving him struggling to orient
himself. He suddenly wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Christ,” he muttered.
“You cannot possibly be that frightened of farm animals.”

Her face was against his
neck, her delectable hair licking at him. “I… I do not like them,” she mumbled
against his skin. “They tried to eat me.”

God, she felt sweet
against his flesh. “How can such a bold, brave woman such as you be frightened
of animals?” he mused.

“Simple.” She lifted her
head out of the safety of his neck to see that he had taken her back around the
north side of the manse. “I have never been around them.  The most my mother
had was a little dog.”

He could have very well
put her down at this point, but he was an idiot to realize that he did not want
to.  He liked the feel of her in his arms and allowed himself a brief moment
for the first time in ten days to actually enjoy it.  But he knew in the same
instant that it was beyond foolish; it was dangerous.  When they were well out
of the range of the carnivorous geese, he gently set her to her feet.

Elizabeau straightened
her surcoat and brushed at the stray locks of hair around her face. “Thank
you,” she looked up at him, still brushing off the dirt. “I am sure I would
have rotted there had you not saved me.”

His grin was back.
“Somehow I doubt that,” his gaze moved over her in a way that suggested he
appreciated what he saw. “Did you sleep well last night? You were sleeping
quite soundly when I left.”

She nodded. “I did,
thank you,” she eyed him a moment. “I came out here to look for you but Dylan
said that you took your son to visit his mother’s grave.”

His smile faded. “I
did.” It was apparent that he did not wish to discuss the matter. “I plan to
head to town and purchase some garments for you to sleep in. What would be your
preference?”

She would not push the
matter of Gwyneth’s grave; it wasn’t any of her affair, anyway, nosy woman that
she was. “If you simply purchase the material, I can sew it,” she said
helpfully.

“There is a fine
dressmaker in St. Briavels. She usually has several pre-made garments available
for purchase. In fact, that is where my mother has done some of her shopping in
the past.”

“Are you sure I cannot
come?”

“I am afraid not.”

“But I would like to
pick out my own material. And I would like to see your castle.”

Any warmth remaining in
his face was gone.  He shook his head, averting his gaze after a moment to kick
at the dirt at his feet before moving around her, heading towards the manse.

“Out of the question. 
Come back inside now.”

This time, she wasn’t
going to acquiesce and she wasn’t going to apologize. True, it wasn’t any of
her business, but she realized that she wanted to make it her business. It was
stupid, foolish, and everything illogical that she could imagine. But that
didn’t stop her.

Crossing her arms
stubbornly, she watched him until he was almost to the front door. When he
realized that she wasn’t following him meekly, he stopped and looked at her.

“Come along, my lady.”

Her gaze lingered on him
a moment before she turned away and began to walk in the opposite direction.

“No.”

She hadn’t taken three
steps when she heard his very rapid, and very heavy, footfalls.  An enormous
hand reached out to grab her, halting her forward momentum.  When she glared up
at him, he was looking quite coldly back at her.

“This is not a matter
for debate,” he said evenly. “Come back inside with me now.”

She yanked her arm out
of his grasp.  “I am not going anywhere with you.  Leave me alone.”

He watched her walk off
towards the road that led to the town of Llandogo, knowing she was angry with
him because he would not let her ride into town with him. He thought he had
explained his reasons quite adequately. But she was spoiled and demanding, and
more than likely used to having her way in matters. He had known that since the
start.  Turning his back on her, he walked half way back to the manse until he
thought better of his actions and he came to a halt, turning once again to see
that she had perched herself on a stump near the road.  He watched her a moment,
the way the sunlight played off of her golden red hair, and he felt himself
folding.  He realized that he did not want her to be angry with him.  Like an
idiot, he began to retrace his steps.

She wouldn’t look at him
when he finally reached her. He stood next to her, his enormous shadow blocking
out the sun, watching her as she primly sat and ignored him. After several long
moments of being disregarded, he let out a heavy sigh.

“Very well,” he rumbled.
“If it means that much to you, then you may go with me.”

She didn’t reply. He
waited for some manner of acknowledgement, but none was forthcoming. Wriggling
his eyebrows, he turned for the house again.

“Rhys,” she said softly.

He paused and turned to
look at her.  “What is it?”

She paused before speaking,
still staring down the road. “You and I have known each other exactly ten
days,” she said quietly. “In that time, you have risked your life for me,
protected me, fed me, and taken better care of me than anyone else ever has. 
And because of that, I have grown rather… fond of you.”

Her reply was completely
off the subject and threw him off balance. But her words stirred something in
him, something that gripped him with fear and hope.  Yet he would not respond
to her; he could not. He averted his gaze and stared at the ground, thinking he
should probably just walk away but finding himself unable to do so.

Elizabeau turned her
eyes to him. He was gazing at the ground, the grass, anything to keep from
looking at her. Something inside her swelled and the words came pouring forth.

“You are a kind, decent
and chivalrous knight and I have appreciated your dedication to me,” she said.
“But during these past few days, I have also come to know something of you as a
man.  You like to tease me and you’re a stubborn as an ox.  And I know you like
to laugh at me when I am angry with you; I’ve seen it.  You think that I do not
know when you are laughing at me, but I do, and it endears you to me all the
more.  I’ve come to think of you as a friend, Rhys, a very dear friend, someone
that I, too, would protect and care for.”

She saw his eyes close
tightly, as if to ward off her words, and she was stung. Tears suddenly sprang
to her eyes although she knew not why. All she knew was that there was more
emotion inside of her at that moment than she had ever experienced in her
life.  He had to know all of it.

“What I am attempting to
say but am inadequately doing so is that I know about your wife and how she
treated you, and I am sorry it hurts you when I have spoken of her,” she stood
up from the stump, wiping furiously at the tears that spilled over. “I do not
mean to hurt you but I feel such a bond with you that somehow I have given
myself the right to know all about you on a personal level because that is
where my interest lies.  You’re such a fine man, Rhys, and you deserve so much
better than what life has apparently brought you and I am truly sorry if I have
invaded your privacy to satisfy my curiosity. I am sorry that in eleven days I
will go to Ogmore Castle and will never see you again because you have shown me
more understanding and companionship than I ever knew existed.”

She was shaking by the
time she finished her rambling speech. Rhys’s face remained parallel with the
ground, but his jaw was ticking furiously. He still had not opened his eyes.
The air between then was thick with emotion, anticipation, and after a moment,
he let out a heavy sigh.

“It was in the line of
duty, my lady. I did what I was ordered to do.”

He might as well have
hit her in the gut; it would have caused less pain. She did, in fact, suck in
her breath at the impact of his words. Turning swiftly away from him, she
plopped back down on the stump and struggled not to sob. She had no idea why
she had said all of those things. All she knew was that she had, and he was
deeply offended.

They hovered together in
silence for the longest time. Birds flew overhead and dogs barked in the
distance, but still, they remained silent with each other. Elizabeau’s tears
flowed silently, creating dark spots on the top of her pale green surcoat. She
made no further move to try and wipe them away; she didn’t want him to see her
wipe at her face and know that she was still weeping.

“Let’s go inside,” he
said hoarsely. “Come along.”

She shook her head
violently and stumbled off the stump. “For Pity’s sake, du Bois, leave me
alone,” she hissed, walking unsteadily towards the road. “Go away and leave me
be.”

He watched her stagger,
his heart twisting painfully in his chest. She had said everything he had been
feeling only she had been brave enough to speak it. She had risked all and was
now struggling with the result.  All he could do was hide behind his sense of
duty and blame his knighthood for his chivalrous reserve. But the truth was
that he hadn’t the courage to say anything to her. He was afraid that once he
opened the door, he would never be able to shut it and it would doom him
forever.

He continued to watch
her as she came to an uneven halt, standing beside the dirt road and surrounded
by a patch of heavy green clover. She was several feet away, her long torso and
feminine curves evident beneath the pale green surcoat.  The longer he stood
there and looked at her, the more his heart ached.

“Please, Elizabeau,” he
pleaded softly. “Come inside with me. We will speak no more of this.”

She shook her head
again, her hand to her face. Suddenly, she was bolting off and he ran after
her. He caught up with her quickly and grabbed her by both arms. After a
violent struggle, she managed to loosen his grip and ended up falling in the
wet grass. Her lovely hair, having been pinned behind her head, now hung askew
and partially covered her face. He could see the tears dripping off her chin.
The sense of knightly professionalism he took such pride in was vanished, his
guard shattered. All he could feel was the pain in his heart.

“What would you have me
say?” he asked in a strange, raspy tone. “Tell me what you would have me say to
all of that?”

She refused to answer
and he crouched down, a few feet in front of her.  He still couldn’t see her
face.

“Then I will say that I
am sorry,” he whispered. “I lied to you.  I have been doing my duty, aye, but
it is more than that. It has been for several days. But it cannot be,
Elizabeau, no matter what we feel or how much we feel.  You are destined for
greatness; I am a mere knight.  You are my mission, my lady. That is all you
can ever be.”

The sobs broke through
and she toppled over in the grass, her hands on her face and pitiful weeping
coming forth.   Rhys went down on his knees beside her, his great hand stroking
her head.

“Christ,” he muttered;
he hated to see her so miserable. It was making him miserable. “If for one
moment any of this was possible, don’t you think I would take that chance?
Don’t you know that I have been thinking the same thoughts as you?”

The hands came away from
her face and she looked up at him, her deep green eyes watery and red-rimmed.
“Y-you have?” she hiccupped.

He smiled down at her,
feeling the softness of her hair against his palm. “Of course I have,” he
murmured. “How could I not? You’re sweet and beautiful and you give me joy. You
are also compassionate and wise. You will make a very fine queen.”

She stared at him a
moment before her face crumpled into sobs again.  She suddenly sat up, throwing
her arms around his neck and holding him tightly.

“I do not want to be
queen,” she sobbed. “I do not want to marry a man I do not know and I do not
want to spend the rest of my life fearing assassins and political cut throats.
But more than that, I do not want to go the rest of my life without you. Of all
the things that have happened unexpectedly to me over the past several days,
you are the most unexpected. And the most heartbreaking.”

He couldn’t help himself
now; he enfolded her in his massive arms, pulling her off of the wet grass and
onto his thick legs. He ended up sitting on the grass with her on his lap,
cradling her as one would cradle a child. She was so sweet and soft and warm
against him. His lips were against her forehead when he spoke.

“It is natural that you
and I would forge a special bond,” he murmured. “We have shared life and death
together. But you must not confuse those feelings with those of love or
romance.”