Authors: Amanda Ashley
“Well, where are they?” Artur glared at Serepta as if it was her fault his sister was still missing, then returned to pacing the floor. “You said they were on their way here.”
Serepta brushed an imaginary piece of lint from her cloak while she tried to decide whether to answer the impudent whelp or turn him into a wart hog. He had summoned her —
summoned her —
from her rooms at the inn as if she were one of his subjects.
“Well?” Artur paused again, hands fisted on his hips.
“It was my understanding they were coming here,” she replied, her voice dripping frost. “Is there anywhere else they might go?”
“I thought she might have gone to Aisley Cloister, in Tarnn to visit her sister. I sent Dunnin to inquire after her sometime ago, but she wasn’t there.”
“Are you sure you can trust him?”
“Without doubt. He has served me well in the past.”
“Perhaps you should send him again,” Serepta remarked. “Just remember, the man with her is mine.”
Aisley Cloister crouched on top of a low rise like a lion about to pounce. Ancient trees lined the road to the entrance. Sunlight glinted off the stained-glass windows, danced across the surface of the stream that meandered down the hill and emptied into a lake that was perfectly round.
Marri had thought to feel some sense of relief when they arrived, a sense of anticipation at seeing her sister again. Once, taking shelter with the good sisters had seemed like the answer to all her problems. Now, she felt only despair. And it was all because of Gryff. She had spent her whole life behind walls of one kind or another; with Gryff, she had known freedom for the first time. True, she had also known fear and hunger. She had been imprisoned. Felt the sting of the lash. Seen cruelty in many forms. But none of that mattered now, not when he was going to leave her. If she asked him to stay with her, would he say yes?
She turned her head to look at him. His jaw was set, his expression impassive. By now, she knew him well enough to read his expressions, knew he had already made up his mind. He cared for her, she had no doubt of that, but he was going to leave her at the cloister because he felt she would be safer there.
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
* * *
Gryff parked the skiff a few yards away from the arched doorway. Came around to hand her out of the skiff. Walked her to the entrance. Rang the bell.
Several minutes passed before a rather plump woman clad in a black habit with a white wimple unlocked the door. “May I help you?”
“The lady here is seeking refuge with your order,” Gryff said.
The nun looked at Marri, one brow raised.
“I believe my sister is here,” Marri said. “Annis of Brynn Tor.”
The nun inclined her head. “I am Sister Berrta.” She took a step back. “Please come in.”
Marri stepped inside.
Gryff followed her into a small, square room furnished with a long, low couch and a rectangular table. The walls were pale gray. A single, stained-glass window was set high in the pale gray wall.
“Please wait here while I inform Reverend Mother of your presence,” Sister Berrta said.
Hands clasped, Marri sat on the edge of the sofa. Now that she was here, she longed to be anywhere else. And yet, she had no place to go. Gryff didn’t want her. She couldn’t go home.
She looked up as a tall, angular woman stepped into the room. Her gaze moved over Marri, missing nothing. “I am told you are seeking sanctuary.”
Marri nodded.
“You are welcome here, of course, my child. Your sister has been informed and will join us shortly.”
“Thank you, Reverend Mother.”
The nun looked at Gryff for the first time. “Who are you?”
He shook his head. “No one of importance.”
“I think you are important to Marri.”
He lifted one shoulder and let it fall.
“We are in need of some temporary help,” the nun remarked. “We cannot pay you, but we would provide you food and shelter.”
Gryff glanced at Marri, saw the silent plea in her eyes.
“Mr. Gryff?”
“Just Gryff. Obliged for your offer, ma’am.”
Reverend Mother smiled. It transformed her face, making her look much younger. “Ah, Sister Annis, please come in.”
Marri jumped to her feet when her sister entered the room. For a moment, the two simply stared at each other. And then they fell into each other’s arms.
Reverend Mother brushed a tear from her eye. After a moment, she said, “Sister Annis, why don’t you take Marri to the dormitory and get her settled in the empty room next to yours. Gryff, if you’ll come with me, I will show you to your quarters. You understand they are not within the cloister itself, but in the yard out back.”
He nodded.
Marri broke her sister’s embrace. “Gryff…”
“I’ll be around for awhile,” he said.
“You won’t leave without telling me goodbye?”
“No.” He would have hugged her, kissed her, save for the stern expression on the Reverend Mother’s face.
Annis tugged on Marri’s hand. With a last look at Gryff, Marri followed her sister out of the room.
* * *
Annis drew Marri down on the narrow cot. Clasping her sister’s hands, she said, “Tell me everything.”
Marri glanced around the room. White walls. A single window. A stone floor. The cot she sat on. A small table with a ewer and pitcher. It was even smaller than the skiff’s cabin.
“Marri?”
“Artur sent Dakkar and Trist to kill me.”
Annis stared at her, her face as white as her wimple. “Are you certain?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper.
“Yes.”
“Talitha drugged me. Trist and Dakkar kidnapped me. I escaped, though I don’t remember it, or anything that happened until Gryff took me in.”
“Who is he? Gryff? He looks…scruffy and uncivilized.”
“Perhaps he is but I don’t care. I love him.”
Mouth open, Annis blinked at her.
“Close your mouth,” Marri said. “And I’ll tell you all about it.”
* * *
Gryff followed the tall nun down a wide hall, through a heavy door and out into the cloister’s backyard. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t what he saw. The yard was large and divided in half by a wooden fence. One side contained a small barn, a corral that housed a brown-and-white cow, a chicken coop with perhaps a dozen chickens, a couple of pigs in a pen. A trio of goats regarded him from the top of what looked like a shed. A garden took up the other half of the yard.
He glanced at the nun. She stood with her arms folded, her expression thoughtful. “Something wrong?”
“Sometime back, a man came looking for Marri. He said her brother had sent him.”
Gryff nodded. “Go on.”
“I told him she hadn’t been here, which was, of course, the truth. I didn’t like the looks of the man. Is she in trouble?”
“More than you can imagine.”
“I see.”
“If you turn her away, she’s got nowhere else to go,” Gryff said flatly.
“Turning her away was never my intention, I assure you. I simply thought to warn you.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Reverend Mother nodded. “Put your fears aside. We will keep her safe.” She cleared her throat. “As I mentioned before, we are in need of help. The young man who used to milk the cow and feed and water the stock ran off last month,” she said. “The sisters look after the garden. Do you think you can care for the stock?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“You’ll sleep in there,” she said, gesturing at the shed. “I think you’ll find it comfortable.
Meals are at six, noon, and seven. You may take yours with us or in the kitchen. Is there anything you need?”
“Just a place to park the skiff. Preferably somewhere out of sight.”
“There is another walled yard behind this one. I’ll fetch the key to the gate.”
Nodding, he followed her back into the convent, waited while she went into her office for the key, then continued out the front door.
As he drove around the back, he wondered how Marri’s reunion with her sister was going.
* * *
“And so we came here.” Marri sighed as she finished her tale. She had told her sister everything — well, almost everything.
“Weren’t you scared to be alone with him? A total stranger? And that witch!” Annis shuddered. “I think I would have expired on the spot.”
“It was scary, sometimes,” Marri admitted. “But mostly it was exciting. As for Gryff, he’s braver than any knight I ever knew. I wish….”
Annis shook her head. “You’ve changed, Marri. I hardly know you any more.”
Marri nodded. Sometimes she hardly recognized herself. She had endured hunger and thirst, seen and done things she had never imagined. Fallen in love. No matter what the future held, if she spent another week with Gryff or only a day, he would always hold a place in her heart.
Sitting back on her heels, Marri sent a rueful glance at the kitchen floor as she dipped a rag into a bucket of soapy water. Though she had only been at the cloister a day, it already seemed like forever. Idle speech was frowned upon, as was laughter. One wing of the cloister housed a number of aged and infirm women, many of whom could not feed or bathe themselves. In addition to caring for the bedridden, the nuns took turns cooking the meals, making bread, mopping and waxing the floors, washing the windows, doing the laundry, working in the garden, and a dozen other menial tasks.
Until she met Gryff, she had never done a day’s work in her life. Her hands were sore, her back ached. She wasn’t given to complaining, but going from a life of luxury to one of constant labor and self-denial wasn’t going to be easy. There was, however, a certain satisfaction in looking after those who couldn’t look after themselves. The nuns were kind. Her room, though small, was comfortable. The food was good. If not for Gryff, she might have resigned herself to spending the rest of her days in the convent, living a life of service and chastity. But not now. Gryff had spoiled her for any life that didn’t include being in his arms.
* * *
Staring off into the distance, Gryff rested one arm on the top of the corral fence. As jobs went, this one wasn’t looking too bad. He’d fed the stock, milked the cow, mucked out the stalls. With his chores finished, he glanced at the garden.
Hoping the nuns wouldn’t mind, he passed an hour pulling weeds — an hour spent thinking of Marri. How, exactly, did the nuns spend their days? Surely they didn’t devote all their time to prayer and meditation?
He couldn’t imagine Marri happily living the rest of her life in the cloister. Clad in habit and wimple, he had hardly recognized her at breakfast. He had hoped to have a few minutes alone with her, but as soon as the meal was over, the nuns had filed silently out of the rectory, headed for the chapel.
At noon, a bell summoned him to the noon-day meal. He sat at a small table, apart from the sisters. It took him a minute to find Marri among the silent women. As though feeling his gaze, she glanced his way. She didn’t look happy. Gryff held up two fingers, hoping she would get the message to meet him later that afternoon. A barely perceptible nod was his answer.
He was in the barn, currying a pretty chestnut mare, when Marri slipped inside.
Tossing the brush aside, Gryff opened his arms and she ran to him, her own arms wrapping around his waist.
For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held her close. Only one night apart and it seemed like a lifetime. He wanted to pull the wimple from her head and run his fingers through her hair, strip her of the shapeless habit and feast his eyes on the warm flesh beneath.
“Marri…”
“I know. I missed you, too.”
“Are you happy here? Is this what you want?”
“No. I love being here with Annis, but….oh, Gryff,” she wailed. “I want to be with you!”
“Marri, sweetheart…”
She placed her fingertips over his mouth with her hand, took a deep breath, and said in a rush, “I love you. I’ll always love you. I don’t want to be a princess or as queen. I…I just want to be your wife. Marry me, Gryff, and take me away from here.” Seeing the argument rising in his eyes, she said, “If you don’t marry me, I’ll never marry anyone. I’ll never know what it’s like to make love to the man I adore. I…” Suddenly running out of steam, she fell silent, her hand falling to her side.
Gryff stared at her, momentarily speechless, and then swept her into his arms again. “I accept your proposal, princess.”
* * *
Annis was shocked to hear that Marri intended to marry Gryff, a man without land or title. “What will father say?”
“I don’t care. I love Gryff. I don’t want to spend my life here. I want to be with him, have his children.”
“But Artur…if what you say is true…”
“I don’t care! Please, Annis, be happy for me.”
* * *
At confession on Friday morning, Marri asked the visiting priest if he would perform the ceremony. At first, he refused. But when she vowed she would run away with Gryff and live in sin, the good father relented.
“Thank you, Father.”
“I hope you do not regret marrying in haste, my child. Bring the young man here. I will marry you now.”
She found Gryff in the barn.
He looked up, one brow lifting when he saw the bright smile on her face. Setting aside the harness he had been mending, he said, “What’s got you looking so happy?”
“We’re to be married! Now!”
“Now?” He frowned at her. “As in, right now?”
“Yes!” Her smile wavered. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“Not a chance, sweetheart.”
* * *
“Are you sure about this, child?” Reverend Mother asked as she helped Marri into a simple white shift.
“Yes, Mother. I love him with all my heart.” Marri paused. “Will you give me your blessing?”
Reverend Mother shook her head. “I cannot see that any good will come of this. You are marrying outside the church, without your father’s permission. I’m afraid I cannot condone your decision, but I do wish you every happiness.”
* * *
Gryff stood at the altar, waiting for her. “Are you sure about this?” he whispered as she took her place beside him.
“Yes.”
Holding hands, they exchanged the simple yet profound words that joined them as man and wife.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said. “May God bless you both.”
Marri gazed up at Gryff — her husband — as he drew her into his arms.
“I love you,” he said fervently. “I will love you as long as I live.”
“And I you.”
Lowering his head, he kissed her ever so gently, wishing, fervently, that he had something more to offer her than all the love in his heart.
* * *
Now that Marri was a married woman, staying inside the cloister was no longer an option. She knew she should be appalled at the idea of spending her wedding night in the dilapidated shed where Gryff slept, but where they were didn’t matter, as long as they were together. As long as she could be in his arms. She felt a little thrill of anticipation when he closed the door, locking out the rest of the world.
He lit several candles, then turned to face her. “Reverend Mother’s been here,” he remarked, gesturing at the colorful quilt that now covered the bed, the pillows, now covered with sparkling white cases. The simple white nightgown on the foot of the bed.
Marri nodded, her stomach in knots as Gryff drew her into his arms. Everything else melted away at his touch.
His gaze moved over her face, and then he kissed her ever so lightly. The fire that ignited from the mere brush of his lips across hers was hotter than the lava caves at Fennton. There was no need for foreplay, no need for words. Locked in each other’s arms, they fell back on the bed, eager hands quickly shedding their clothing, touching, exploring. They came together in a rush as all the passion they had kept so tightly leashed exploded like a star going nova.
Marri clung to Gryff as the world she knew went up in flames. She was on fire, her whole body melting into his. She had never known what pleasure was until this moment, never knew the wonder of it, the sheer sensual power of joining her body with that of the man she loved.
For love him she did. Desperately.
He shuddered deep inside her, his face buried in her hair, his body trembling, damp with perspiration.
She stroked his back, her heart swelling with tenderness. Whatever happened in the future, she would forever cherish this moment. This man.
“Are you all right?” he asked his voice muffled.
“Never better.”
He lifted on up his elbows. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. It was wonderful. Thank you.”
He cocked one brow, then grinned. “No one’s ever thanked me before.”
Some of her euphoria faded. He was her first. How many had come before her? She knew about Serepta, of course, but had there been others? Women he hadn’t been forced to bed?
“Marri?” His gaze searched her face. “What’s wrong?”
She blinked furiously in an effort to stay her tears. “Nothing.”
“You can’t lie to me. I know you too well. Was it something I said? Something I did?”
Her gaze slid away from his. “Please, Gryff, let it go.”
“Not until you tell me.”
“You said no one’s ever thanked you before.”
“Yeah.” He frowned at her, and then, as comprehension dawned, he swore softly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Would it help if I told you none of the others were ever important to me? Not the way you are.”
“Only if you mean it.”
He brushed his lips across her brow, the tip of her nose, her cheeks. His kisses were feather-light until he covered her mouth with his. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping across her lower lip, dipping inside. When she was breathless, her hands clutching his shoulders, he lifted his head. “I meant it, love. Every word.”
“Show me,” she whispered. “Make be believe.”
He gazed down at her, his eyes hot, his voice thick as he murmured, “My pleasure.”
* * *
Marri sighed, her whole body aching in the most wonderful way. The first time had been amazing. This last time was beyond description. Gryff had made love to her slowly, arousing her, carrying her to the peak of ecstasy again and again. He had touched her and tasted her in ways that made her cry out with pleasure until, at last, he had carried her over the edge, leaving her spent and satisfied and more in love than ever.
She sighed again as he stood, let out a little shriek of surprise when he lifted her into his arms and carried her through a door she hadn’t notice before and into a small bathroom with an equally small shower.
Standing under the spray, he found the soap and washed her from head to foot, then, with an expectant smile, he handed it to her.
Had anyone asked, Marri would have said making love was the most intimate thing a couple could do, but washing Gryff, soaping his arms and chest, his legs, that part of him that made him a man, was remarkably arousing.
Little wonder they wound up in bed yet again.
* * *
Gryff rolled onto his side, one arm across his brow. “Woman, you are insatiable.”
“Me?” She punched him on the arm. “I didn’t carry you out of the shower and into bed.”
Trying hard not to laugh, he muttered, “Only because you couldn’t lift me.”
“Fine, then I’ll never bathe you again.”
“Okay, you win!” Grasping her around the waist, he pulled her onto his chest. “It was all my fault.”
She laughed with the sheer joy of being in his arms, of knowing he was now hers for always, for forever. Laughed until he rolled over, his body covering hers, his mouth hot as he claimed her lips and her heart.
* * *
Gryff sat outside, his back braced against the side of the barn. Overhead, the twin moons silvered the land. How quickly his life had changed! If only his prospects had changed as well. He had nothing to offer Marri, couldn’t think of anyplace that would provide a safe haven for the two of them. He had considered and rejected a dozen towns. If he could obtain a couple of fake travel orders, they could leave Brynn Tor, perhaps go to one of the moons. They’d be safe there.
Muttering an oath, he headed for his bed and his bride. He’d worry about the future tomorrow. Tonight, he wanted to be in his woman’s arms.
* * *
Gryff was drifting toward sleep when something — a change in the air, a sound heard by his sub-conscious — jerked him from the brink. Rolling out of bed, he lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he tested the wind and scented danger lurking nearby.
He moved silently as he opened the door and stepped outside.
Shifting into the wolf, he sniffed the air again, growled softly as an unfamiliar scent filled his nostrils. He paused, his gaze searching the darkness. There, footprints leading from the convent to the back of the shed.
Head lowered, he trailed the scent, growled low in his throat when he saw the back door hanging open.
He padded quietly through the door, fear spiking through him when he heard Marri scream.
Inside the shed, a big brute of a man leaned over the bed, his hands wrapped around Marri’s throat. A shock of white hair gave him a ghostly appearance.
With teeth bared, the wolf launched itself at the man’s back, his teeth sinking deep into the artery in the man’s neck.
With a roar, the man reared back, trying to shake off the wolf. Blood sprayed from the killing wound.
The wolf growled as he ripped out the attacker’s throat. With a choked cry, the man fell backwards, ricocheted off the wall, staggered a few feet and crashed through the front door.
A gasp caught the wolf’s attention. Looking up, he saw several nuns clad in their nightgowns running toward the shed. When they reached the doorway, they came to an abrupt halt, their eyes wide with horror and fear as they glanced from the dead man to the wolf.