She turned to the knight with both dismay and a revulsion she didn’t bother to hide. “She has
chosen
to stay there?”
“Yes, she has, the bi—” Lord Delac caught Broderick’s eye and remembered that, incredibly, the man still wanted to marry his whore of a niece. “It appears I may have been right all along about her and that Welshman.”
Mavis still could not believe that. Not entirely, although when she’d recalled the times Tamsin had mentioned Sir Rheged, there might have been something in her eyes....
“Here, oaf, help me down!” her father ordered one of the grooms, who hurried to help the nobleman dismount.
Broderick, for all his bulk, swung down easily from the saddle. “I must confess, my lady, I find it difficult to believe that you had no inkling what was afoot with your cousin and that Welshman.”
“Whatever
might
have been between them, I’m sure Thomasina has been virtuous,” Mavis replied.
Tamsin would never willingly give up her virtue, not to any man. Not unless she was married. Mavis was completely certain about that.
“Well, there’s something between them now,” her father returned. “Sir Broderick is to be commended for his generous intention to keep the betrothal agreement in spite of your cousin’s shameful behavior.”
Tamsin was
not
shameful, and as for Broderick’s “generous intention,” if ever a man was completely lacking in anything that remotely resembled generosity, it was surely Broderick of Dunborough.
“Even to the point of fighting to the death for Thomasina on the morrow,” her father continued.
Mavis stared at him, aghast. “They are going to fight to the death over her?”
“Jealous, my lady?” Broderick asked with a mocking look.
She turned on him like an angry hornet. “I’m simply surprised that you would be foolish enough to condemn yourself to death.”
“It will be Sir Rheged who dies, my lady, so I suggest you have a care how to speak to me. After all, we are going to be family.”
“If you win,” Mavis retorted.
“Enough!” her father growled as one of the grooms helped him from his horse and he staggered toward the hall. “I want bread. And honey. And wine. Mulled wine.”
Mavis started after him, but Broderick blocked her way and brought his face so close to hers she could smell his unclean breath. “If you value your cousin’s life, my lady, you will remember that when I am her husband, her life belongs to me.”
Hating him to the depths of her soul, Mavis faced him squarely. “And you had best remember, my lord, that Sir Rheged of Cwm Bron isn’t called the Wolf of Wales because he cannot fight.”
“If your father’s wise, he’ll marry you to some Scot and send you far away.”
“If you are wise, my lord, you’ll get out of my way.”
Broderick hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside and let her pass.
He watched her march to the hall, and his expression was not one of admiration.
* * *
Mavis didn’t join her father or the servants in the hall. She ran up to the chamber she’d shared with Tamsin and reached beneath the bed for the bundle she’d prepared. Clutching it to her chest, she sank down upon the bed.
If Rheged won tomorrow, Tamsin would be safe. She would have to take Tamsin’s place as bride to the disgusting Broderick, but surely there would be at least a day before any marriage could take place. If Rheged lost tomorrow and Tamsin came back, there would still be time enough to flee.
Please, God,
she prayed as she buried her face in the bundle,
give us a chance to flee!
* * *
After the food had been eaten and the tables cleared, Tamsin leaned close to Rheged. “I believe I shall retire now, my lord.”
He kept his eyes straight ahead as he very quietly answered, “But you will be expecting me?”
“Oh, yes.” She furtively slid her hand over his powerful thigh. “I’ll be waiting. Clad only in my shift.”
He looked at her then, his expression a mixture of such surprise and delight she had to smile in return.
“Here, now, you two, what’s going on under the table? You’re not wed yet and no vows taken!” Gareth jovially called out.
“Can’t a man talk to his bride-to-be?”
“Talk, aye, but it’s not the talking I’m talking about.”
“Have a care, Gareth, and remember you’re speaking to your lord,” Rheged chastised with such obviously bogus annoyance Gareth winked before he impudently replied, “Oh, aye, Sir Rheged, my lord.”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t even try to be discreet,” Rheged muttered under his breath.
“Perhaps not,” Tamsin agreed. “But let me leave first anyway.”
His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t protest, for he had not forgotten what she’d said about waiting for him clad only in her shift.
Chapter Sixteen
A
little while later, Rheged discovered Tamsin was as good as her word. Not only was she naked save for her shift, but her unbound hair was loose and cascading over her body like a lustrous cloak.
As Rheged stood looking at her, a delicious thrill of anticipation ran through her. “Let us to bed, my lord,” she whispered.
“Gladly, my lady, gladly,” he replied, his lips curving up in a smile so seductively appealing she couldn’t say a word even if she wanted to.
She didn’t want to. She wanted to make love with him.
Reclining on the bed and feeling like a queen about to be loved by a king—a magnificent, powerful king who was hers to love forever—she watched Rheged tug off his tunic and shirt. His clothes were always plain, unadorned, simple, and he looked marvelous in anything, but he looked even better half-naked. Her gaze roved over his taut belly and broad chest and the scars that marked his torso, the outer evidence of his military battles and survival.
But there had been other battles, too, of a sort that she also had fought.
She loved him, and she always would, no matter what happened on the morrow.
“Do you like what you see, Tamsin?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
“Very much,” she replied, watching him tug off his boots and then his breeches, the latter so swiftly she caught barely a glimpse of the rest of his powerful body before he took her in his arms and kissed her fervently.
Despite the passion that fueled their desire, in spite of her yearning anticipation and the speed with which they’d loved before, he took his time now, as if he believed they had hours...days...nights...years to love. She would think so, too. She would pretend that they had the rest of their lives to live and love together. That this was but the beginning, not the alpha and omega both.
Leaning his weight on his elbow, he kissed her tenderly, his free hand gliding lightly over the curves of her body, exploring her with slow deliberation. She responded in kind, letting her hands study him, finding the places that made him sigh and gasp, as she was sighing and gasping, teaching and being taught.
But she could feel the need burning within him as it smoldered within her, ready to burst into eager excitement.
Not quite yet. First there was more kissing and caressing, more delicate stroking and touching, like seafarers who’d landed on a new and lovely shore, one they had years to wander.
Until the discovery grew more heated, with a greater purpose that must be fulfilled, and sooner than the dawn.
More than ready, she reached down to guide him to her, and with a smooth thrust, he was inside. They were together once more, completely and utterly.
One in passion, one in love, joined as man and woman, husband and wife, to be one in all that life had to offer, the good and the bad, joy and sorrow, to celebrate together or comfort each other if the need arose.
And then the passion and need and desire took them, rushing them forward, filling and compelling them onward and over the edge until they cried out together in ecstasy.
After a long moment, as the waves receded and cast Tamsin back upon the shore, she cradled Rheged’s head against her breasts and stroked his hair. This was happiness. And contentment. This was joy such as few women would likely ever know. She was so blessed...if only for tonight.
He caught her studying him and when he grinned, she could see the boy he must have been, as well as a glimpse of the children they might have. “You aren’t sleepy, Tamsin?” he asked with another seductive smile while he caressed her. “I shall have to think of something to tire you.”
But he also stifled a yawn.
“I think we’ve both sported enough for one day,” she said, “and now it’s time to rest. You mustn’t be too tired tomorrow.”
“I could beat Broderick if I’d been awake for a week,” he assured her.
Yet in spite of his assertion, Rheged had to admit, if only to himself, that he
was
weary, and Broderick was angry, bitter and determined—the worst kind of opponent to face.
His throat was somewhat scratchy, too, but that, he thought with an inward grin, could be from the way he’d growled in triumph when he reached the height of ecstasy in Tamsin’s arms.
“Perhaps it would be better if I slept,” he reluctantly agreed.
As Tamsin sighed and snuggled against him, a feeling of tender affection stole over him. How delightful and wondrous it was to think that they could be friends and confidants as well as lovers.
She raised her head to look at him, her expression suddenly serious. “I don’t want to marry anyone but you, ever! Whatever happens tomorrow, I never will!”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, loving her beyond all measure. “Whatever happens tomorrow, you are the only woman I have ever loved, or ever shall.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Be of good cheer, Tamsin! I beat Broderick before when the stakes were not nearly so high, and I’d been rendered weak. I’ll beat him again. Knowing your opponent and the tricks he might play is like having another shield.” Another wave of weariness washed over him. “Now close your eyes, Tamsin, and try to sleep, and so shall I.”
Although Tamsin doubted sleep would come soon, if at all, she did as he suggested and soon realized he’d dozed off. Clearly he wasn’t afraid of Broderick, and if he could sleep so easily, perhaps she could rest, too.
Even so, it was a long time before Tamsin’s eyelids finally closed and she fell into a fitful sleep, to dream of Rheged, his long hair flying, half-naked, armed with only a bow and riding into an ambush.
* * *
“Then you think it might come to a battle between DeLac’s men and us?” Rob asked Gareth in a whisper as they sat together on a bench in the hall of Cwm Bron. It was nigh onto midnight, and the men who weren’t on watch were asleep on pallets nearby, along with the hounds. Men and dogs made small noises or grunts as they turned but didn’t wake.
Gareth stared at the glowing remains of the fire in the hearth. “It might, if Rheged wins. DeLac might not want to fight over her, but one look at that Broderick tells me he won’t take losing lightly, and he’s got enough men of his own at Dunborough to give us some trouble if he wants to.”
“Well, if he’s so foolish, our men’ll be up to it,” Rob replied stoutly. Then, clasping his hands loosely, resting his elbows on his knees, he sighed and shook his head. “I never thought I’d see Rheged lose his head over a woman, though, or risk everything for one, either.”
“I wouldn’t have said it likely, either, once upon a time. But she’s a rare woman, you have to admit.”
“Rare enough I hope I never meet another like her. Give me a woman who knows her place and stays there.”
“That might do for you, Rob,” Gareth said with a grin, “but never for Rheged. He needs someone to match him strength for strength, and I think he’s found her. Now, me, I like a quiet woman.”
“You like a woman if she’s between eighteen and forty,” Rob returned. “But truly, Gareth, do you think Rheged would give up Cwm Bron and his title, even his life, for that woman?”
“Aye, I do.”
“Well, then, that’s enough for me. I’d still be dragging stones for that lout of a mason if he hadn’t offered me a place here. What do we do if that Broderick loses and comes back with more men? What if he wants a fight?”
Gareth’s smile was as grim as Rheged’s could be. “We give him one.”
* * *
Tamsin awoke with a start, then lay still. It was only a dream and she was in bed with a living Rheged, warm and safe. The cock crowed beyond the walls, and the dim light of early dawn shone through the crack in the shutters.
A new day, and such a day! Of hope and dread, of triumph if Rheged won, and horrible despair if—
He must win! He would win!
“Rheged, wake up,” she said, gently nudging him. “The sun is rising, and so must we.”
His only answer was a mumble before he reached out and brought her hand to his chest.
“Rheged,” she repeated more firmly and pulling herself free. “Wake up!”
He stirred and began to sit up, then fell back upon the pillows, his breathing raw and rasping. She saw at once that his face was pale and perspiration dotted his forehead and upper lip. Although his eyes were open, they were glassy.
“Rheged!” she cried. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?” She put her hand on his forehead. “You’re burning!”
Ignoring the slight ache in her leg, she rushed to the washstand to wet a cloth. She wrung it out quickly, then hurried back to put it on his forehead. “Are you in pain? Your stomach? Your head?”
“Throat. Head. Both,” he croaked, starting to shiver.
She wrapped him up in the blankets as best she could, then swiftly pulled on a gown. She rushed to the door and down the stairs. Several soldiers and a few of the servants were stirring, and she spotted the groom seated at one of the tables shoving a crust of bread into his mouth. “Dan! Fetch Gilbert!”
The groom sat stunned, staring at her.
“Not for me, for Rheged. He’s sick!”
Tossing the bread to one of the ever-present hounds, Dan leapt to his feet and ran from the hall, passing a startled Hildie who was coming in from the kitchen entrance.
“Hildie, bring cold water and more linen—small squares. Quickly!”
She didn’t wait to see if her orders were obeyed but immediately went back to the chamber. Rheged had thrown off the covers and managed to sit up, his bare feet on the frigid stone floor.