Spectre of the Sword (26 page)

By now, the entire
family knew about the ruse.  It had been impossible not to tell them once
Conrad and his men arrived, although it had been something of a shock to
Orlaith.   Being a woman, she had been very intuitive about how Rhys was
behaving around his wife.  She had been thrilled for her son after his horrific
first marriage.  But knowing the lady, with whom he seemed to share such a bond
with, was not truly his wife, had thoroughly depressed her.  And then there was
Carys; she had been immediately attracted to Conrad until she had learned his
true purpose.  Now she was dejected and discouraged knowing he was meant for
the woman her brother had called his wife.  Therefore, Conrad’s attention had
her nervous because she did not know how to react.

“I do not know,” she
replied after a moment. “We do not know where Rhys has gone. He thought you
were assassins so he must be in hiding.”

Conrad nodded in
agreement, kicking at the dirt again as the conversation lagged.  “The lady…
you have met her?”

Carys dumped the last of
the grain. “I have.  I like her.”

“She is beautiful?”

“Very beautiful.  And
she is very sweet.”

Conrad tilted his head
as he gazed into her pale, porcelain-like face. “You are very beautiful also.”

Carys’ cheeks flamed a
deep red and she averted her gaze.  Conrad laughed softly. “You do not like to
hear that, do you?”

Carys shrugged, keeping
her head lowered as she turned for the house. Conrad followed. “I… I do not
know.”

Conrad laughed again.
“You should know. You will have men telling you this often.”

Carys shrugged
nervously, setting the grain bowl aside and going in search of the broom to
begin sweeping the steps.  Conrad followed her around like a puppy.  When he
saw her collect the broom, he took it gently from her hands.

“Allow me,
schönes
mädchen
,” he said, smiling at her. “You should not do such work.”

She was still blushing
when he took the broom away and began sweeping the steps. “What does that
mean?”

He looked at her.
“What?”

“Whatever you called me.
What does it mean?”

His gaze lingered on her
before turning back to his sweeping. “It means beautiful girl.”

A bashful smile creased
her lips.  “Would… would you teach me your language sometime? I should like to
learn it.”

He bowed gallantly. “I
would be privileged.”

She fought off a wider
smile, knowing the blush on her cheeks had deepened yet again. Carys watched
him sweep the steps, an odd feeling blooming in her chest that she had never
experienced before.  It was warm and tingly and made her light headed.  She
felt as if her ribs were going to explode.  Watching Conrad sweep the steps,
she couldn’t help but smile.

He was fairly beautiful,
too.

***

Elizabeau had awoken
warm and naked in Rhys’ arms. She lay there for a few moments, orienting
herself and remembering the events of the night with crystal clarity. She
remembered every touch, every sensation as if it had only just happened.  It
brought a feeling of total comfort, total joy, and she burrowed in closer
against him.  Her face was pressed into the soft matting of dark hair on his
broad chest and she inhaled deeply, feeling his scent wash over her.  It was
the moment she had always dreamed of with him and it was more, and better, than
she could have ever wished for.

Rhys’ arms tightened
around her instinctively as she snuggled against him.  He had been awake for
quite some time, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell between them.  He
had been sure he would feel differently about what he had done come the dawn,
but in truth, he still did not regret his actions.  They had been the most
natural of things, as he had always been meant to have her.  But he did breathe
a prayer of thanks that he had still possessed the presence of mind not to take
her innocence.  It had taken nearly all his strength not to, but for now, the
strength had held out and he was grateful. 

When she burrowed into
him, he pulled her close and buried his face in the top of her hair, smelling
the soft strands.  It was then he realized that she was going the same thing of
him; he could feel her breathing deeply against his chest.   With his hands
caressing her hair, her body, he spoke.

“Are you awake?” he
asked softly.

“No,” she murmured into
his flesh. “I am still asleep, still dreaming of you.”

He smiled. “As I am of
you also,” he kissed the top of her head. “Did you sleep well?”

“So well that I cannot
begin to describe the bliss.  I never want it to end.”

His smile faded. “Nor I,
but it is unfortunate that it must.  It is shortly after dawn and we must get
dressed and press on.”

She pulled her face out
of his chest, gazing up at him with a delightfully sleepy face. “Where are we
going?”

He smoothed the hair
from her eyes. “Ogmore.”

Her first instinct was
to cry and rage.  After the night they spent together, she had convinced
herself that the only thing that existed was their feelings for each other.  No
king, no Teutonic prince… but the reality was that their bliss was to be a
stolen moment, never to come again.  She struggled to be grateful for it.

“Of course,” she
murmured. “How long will it take?”

He finished brushing
hair from her eyes and was now simply stroking her face. “We should reach it by
tomorrow.”

She looked at him
seriously, knowing there was nothing more she could say or do to delay or
otherwise alter her future. They had been through it, too many times, and they
both knew what must be done.  Strangely, after last night, she felt more
fortified to face it.

“I would suspect that
after the prince and I are married, we will return to his homeland,” she said,
realizing her throat was constricting with tears as she spoke. “I do not know
when I will see you again. Do you think that de Lohr will permit you to
accompany me back to Saxony?”

He touched her face
tenderly. “Probably not.  Once this mission is complete, we will move on to
other things.  I cannot say when we will meet again.”

She was trying very hard
to be brave. “Then I will see you in my dreams every night.  And I will relive
this moment in my heart for as long as I live.”

He gazed down at her,
feeling the powerful pangs of grief. Until last night, he had been doing an
admirable job of maintaining his emotional control. But after what he had
experience with her, he realized the dam had been breached and it would be
close to impossible to stem the tide. After a long moment, he pulled her into
his arms and squeezed tightly.  Elizabeau threw her arms around his neck and
squeezed back.

Rhys’ face was buried in
her neck, feeling her hair and silken skin against his rough cheek.  His eyes
were closed as he dreamed of a world where they could be together, just the two
of them, and awaken like this every morning for the rest of their lives. His
hands roamed her body freely, feeling the silky flesh beneath his touch, moving
to the rounded swell of her buttocks and gripping them with his big hands. He
pulled her pelvis against his, knowing he already had a massive erection.  But
he wanted to feel her against him. His mind was muddled with warmth and love
and passion, so much so that it took him a moment to realize that she had
parted her thighs and had wrapped her legs around him.

He was losing ground
fast.  His heart began to race and he pulled back to look her in the eye.

“Nay,” his breathing was
coming in ragged gasps. “You must not…”

She put her hand over
his mouth and ground her hips against his. He could feel her wet heat against
his member, made worse when she thrust her hips forward and pulled herself
along the length of his shaft.

“Rhys,” she put her lips
against the hand that was over his mouth, her hot breath mingling with his own.
“This moment is all that I have lived for.  To give myself to the man I love,
who loves me in return, will make my life complete.  This is more than lust or
foolishness; this is an affair of the heart and body at the deepest level.  I
will never feel this way again and I will never feel you again.  I am not so
naïve that I believe all women go to the marriage bed as virgins but I have an
advantage; I was able to give my innocence to the man I love even though he
will never be my husband.”

She removed her hand
from his mouth and replaced it with her lips, kissing him ferociously. Rhys
responded as he knew he would, with power and submission, with strength and
adoration. He could feel her grinding her hips against him, moving her wet heat
the length of his engorged manhood. 

They were still on their
sides, facing each other, so she was able to lift herself up along his torso. 
As tongues plundered and bodies began to sweat, she managed to perch herself on
the tip of his swollen phallus.  Rhys could feel her and he knew what was about
to happen; if he had any sense, he would have pulled away.  But she fit against
him so perfectly and her body against his was so natural, so instinctive, that
he could not stop what was about to occur.  When she tightened her legs and
thrust her pelvis forward again, he slipped more than half of his long, hard
length inside her wet and pulsing passage.

Elizabeau gasped at the
sting, the newness of the sensation. She tore her mouth away from his, panting
as she became accustomed to the feel of him within her body.  Rhys realized it
was the most miraculous sensation of his life and also the worst; it was
everything he knew it would be and he wasn’t even fully embedded in her.  His
mouth was suckling on her throat as she gasped and, with a growl, he took hold
of her tender buttocks and thrust forward, driving himself to the hilt and listening
to her cries of pain and pleasure. 

The deed was done. There
was no turning back.  With one hand on her buttocks and another on her breast,
he impaled her on his phallus again and again, listening to her soft, joyous
gasps, feeling her body respond to his as he had never experienced in his
life.  It was as if she was made for him, every part of her, and he fit against
her and within her like a piece of a puzzle. Their tender kisses resumed and he
realized she was weeping softly, so he kissed her tears away before claiming
her lips once more. He could feel her body rattle with his powerful thrusts,
her soft weeping in his ear that encouraged him onward. Even after he climaxed,
he continued to thrust into her and was rewarded when her body released around
him. He could feel her tender walls pulling at him. Still, he continued to move
within her, to kiss her, to caress her buttocks and breasts. When it ended, he
knew quite irrevocably that it was not the end.  It was the beginning of
something he could not begin to comprehend.

Elizabeau lay in his
arms, sniffling faintly, weeping with the joy and pleasure of it.  Rhys held
her tightly, his gentle kisses raining on her hair and face, her shoulder,
until he felt himself growing hard again and he resumed another round of tender
thrusts.   Elizabeau moaned softly as he moved within her once again, her arms
wrapped around his neck as she completely turned herself over to him.   This
time, Rhys took his time with her, holding her slender softness against him as he
made love to her, his actions infused with the deep love he felt for her more
than the overwhelming lust.  When they finally found their release, it was
together.  When she fell into an exhausted sleep with his body still within
her, he did not have the heart to move.  He lay there and held her tightly, his
mind wandering as the sun rose.

My God… what have I
done?

Rod was a good knight
and very astute.  He had followed his brother’s path to St. Briavel’s and was
told that the master had left the day before towards the southwest. So Rod
followed along the path presumably taken by his brother, riding hard and fast. 
Based on what Rhett had told him, he knew that his brother would be taking the
lady to Ogmore Castle so he could only assume that Rhys was taking the coastal
route to get there.

Rod followed the Wye
Valley from St. Braivel’s to the Severn River and followed the river to the
sea.  He reasoned that Rhys would not hide in any of the smaller towns along
the road simply because it would be too difficult to blend in with the crowd. 
As big a man as he was, he would be easy to locate to Rod presumed he would
find him in a larger town with more people to cover his tracks. 

Rod stopped in Chepstow,
the first larger town he came to, and investigated three inns but no one had
seen a very large man and small, red-haired woman.   Rod even hung around for a
short while as seven well-paid street urchins ran about the town looking for a
massive knight with black hair.  But no one caught a glimpse of such a man so
Rod spent the night there and then moved on.

The next major town
after Chepstow was Caldicot.  It was actually a collection of several smaller
towns along the seaport, so Rod started at the northeast end of the town and
began to move from one inn to the next.   After checking five such
establishments, he came across another collection of orphans milling in the
street and, after some persuasion and a few coins, the children set out to find
the enormous black-haired knight.  Rod told them that he would settle in a
tavern somewhere around Caldicot Castle and wait for them.