The
mother abbess and Sister Repentia, nursing a substantially bruised abdomen and
an aching head, watched the touching scene as long as they dared. The abbess
stood next to the green-eyed nun, her piercing riveted to the four people
huddled beneath the clouded sky.
"She
favors you tremendously," the abbess said softly.
Sister
Repentia nodded. "I was surprised to see for myself, Mother. She’s a
beautiful girl."
Mary
Deus continued to watch the tender scene. "The knight holding her is
Richmond le Bec, is he not?"
"That
is correct. He’s been her guardian for eighteen years."
The
abbess sighed. "'Twill be hard to separate them. From the affection
displayed, I suspect their relationship is deeper than mere companionable
concern."
Sister
Repentia watched Richmond as he crooned to her daughter, well remembering the
bright-eyed young knight entrusted with the royal bastard those years ago. He
was an extremely handsome man who had grown more beautiful with age and as she
observed his manner toward Arissa, she surmised the mother abbess to be correct
in her assumption.
"Shall
I take her?" she asked, her voice small and hesitant.
The
abbess shook her head. "Nay, Sister. The lady is my charge and I shall
complete the necessary action," she turned to the other nuns clustered in
a fearful group by the abbey's entrance. "Retreat inside, sisters."
"But
what of the battle on the moors, Mother?" a novice nun wanted to know.
Mary
Deus turned her attention southward, listening. "I do not hear the sounds
of battle. I suspect Sir Richmond's men have triumphed," waving a hand at
the gaggle of nuns, she focused on the two knights and two ladies in the near
distance. "Inside, Sisters. Go about your chores."
No
one dared to argue with the woman who had managed Whitby for nearly twenty
years. Only Sister Repentia remained, her pale green eyes continuing to
observe the tender display. Remembering a love gone by, eighteen years past,
she felt a fresh stab of anguish to an old wound as she pondered vague memories
of a young man with fair hair, secretly devoted to her.
Not
entirely unaware of the tender memories lurking in Sister Repentia's heart, and
knowing the woman's history as she did, the abbess decided to call a halt to
the compassionate spectacle before her. The sooner the lady and her guardian
were separated, the better for them all. A task, she suspected, would be
difficult enough as it was.
"Sir
Richmond," the mother abbess addressed him calmly, interrupting their
huddle. "I am Mother Abbess Mary Deus. I thank you for escorting the lady
from Lambourn and defending her from those who sought to do her great
harm," she passed a lingering glance at the still form of Tad de Rydal,
resisting the urge to shudder with horror. "When he came to us yesterday,
he was weak with his wound and requested assistance. We had no choice but to
offer him refuge."
Richmond
raised his head from where it had been buried against Arissa, his face pallid.
"I understand, Your Grace. Certainly you are not to blame for the man's
twisted sense of vengeance against the lady and me," his gaze lingered on
the silky black head, resting against his shoulder. "And as for your
mention of my accompanying the lady north, you will know that I am her
guardian. It was not only my pleasure, but my duty. You are undoubtedly aware
that she’s been delivered sooner than expected."
The
old nun nodded. "I take it that circumstances dictated such actions and I
will not question your reasoning. Suffice it to say that she’s welcome."
Arissa
raised her head from the safe haven of Richmond's neck, swollen-eyed and puffy-lipped
as she met his ashen expression. With a feeble smile purely for her benefit,
Richmond set her gently to the ground.
"She’s
cut her lip," he murmured. "I would tend her wound, if I may, before
going on my way."
The
abbess gazed at Arissa a moment before extending her hand to the young lady.
Dazed and uncertain, though not lacking in proper manners, Arissa obeyed the
request and reluctantly moved from Richmond's company. As the abbess' warm hand
closed over Arissa's arm, the woman discreetly motioned Sister Repentia forward
to take charge of the girl.
Richmond
realized what was happening without benefit of an explanation; from the moment
they set foot on Whitby's lands, Arissa was considered their property and even
now, she was considered the abbess' charge. Without fanfare or ceremony, Arissa
ceased to become his sworn duty and assumed her role as a holy pledge. He was
no longer her guardian.
"Sister
Repentia is quite capable of tending her lip, my lord," the abbess said,
not unkindly. "You have completely your duty admirably and are to be
commended. But she’s our responsibility from this day forward."
Richmond
opened his mouth to politely argue the point, desperate to see to Arissa's
needs himself. But his gaze fell on the slight nun approaching Arissa and his
protest died in his throat. Although Sister Repentia was properly covered in
layers of gray wool, all flesh obscured but her delicate face, the familiarity
of the woman's features pummeled him like a hammer blow and he heard his breath
catch in his throat.
Greetings,
Sir Richmond.
There was no mistaking the pale green eyes that silently acknowledge him and
Richmond felt as if he had been slapped in the face. But in the same instant, a
great deal suddenly became clear to him; Henry had delegated Arissa to Whitby
because it was the same abbey to which her mother had been pledged.
He
continued to gaze at the woman, dumbfounded, but the nun quickly averted her
eyes and he was not so dazed that he did not receive the silent message of her
guarded countenance; Arissa had no know knowledge of the woman's true identity
and he would not betray the fact, no matter how surprised he was. But, God help
him, he simply couldn't believe what he was seeing. Arissa's mother was at
Whitby.
Arissa
was unaware of Richmond struggle to recover his and more concerned with the
fact that they were separating her from Richmond. With panic in her eyes, she
looked to Richmond for help, realizing that Sister Repentia was putting more
and more distance between them. She wasn’t ready to leave him, not in the
least.
"But....
but I have not yet said my farewell!" she said, digging her heels in.
"Can.... can he not stay for sup?"
Richmond
realized that he was the only person who possessed a remote chance of calming
her before she built into a substantial fit. Turning to the abbess, he
struggled to maintain an even tone.
"Might
I have a word with her, alone, to explain the situation?" he asked.
"I
do not believe that to be necessary," the abbess replied steadily.
"The lady realizes that she’s now our responsibility and you are free to
go along your way. She’s in safe hands now."
Arissa
could scarcely believe what she was hearing. They were not going to allow her
to say good-bye to Richmond! Knowing that she should obey the abbess' directive
by showing proper submission to the will of the church, she simply couldn't
help the panic and disbelief that surged through her heart.
When
Richmond turned his helpless gaze upon her, something deep within her snapped.
Pulling roughly from Sister Repentia's gentle grasp, she threw herself forward
with the intention of propelling herself into Richmond's arms. However, the
mother abbess reached out to stop her momentum, grasping hold of the emotional
young girl in an attempt to contain her. With a shriek, Arissa tore herself
from the old woman's hands and stumbled aimlessly in the direction of the
wagon.
She
could hear Richmond's soft pleas intermingled with the sultry voice of the
mother abbess. Arissa continued to stagger toward the wagon, having no idea
where she was going or what she was intending to accomplish, only that she
couldn't let him go without a word, a touch, a final gesture. She had to feel
him, to taste him, one last time.
The
events of the day were weighing heavily on her fragile mind, creating a wild
spin from which there seemed to be no escape. She bumped into the wagon and her
forward movement came to a halt; turning toward the bed of the rig, her eyes
came to rest on her oaken trunk.
As
she stared at the box, she began to calm. Inside, she had packed several
possessions of a personal and sentimental nature, items Emma had managed to
leave intact when she stowed away in the case.
Taking
a deep breath to ease her tumultuous emotions, Arissa realized that the
likelihood of being able to physically display her affection for Richmond in
front of the mother abbess an impossibility at best. In lieu of a kiss to
remember or a touch to linger upon, she realized that a tangible token of her
adoration might work a similar effect.
Arissa
leapt into the bed of the wagon, struggling to unlatch the heavy oak lid of the
case. Releasing the locks, she propped the lid open and began to rummage
through her belongings, new and old, searching. Several feet away, Richmond and
the mother abbess had come to an uneasy agreement and Richmond approached the
rig, eyeing Arissa with a good deal of concern and curiosity.
"What
are you looking for, kitten?" he asked softly. "You know that you
cannot bring any of your possessions with you."
She
continued to rummage about, finally coming upon the object of her search.
Richmond watched as she drew forth the rosary he had given her. She smiled
weakly at him, stringing it over her neck for safe keeping. He returned her
smile and extended his hand to assist her from the wagon, but she ignored him
and delved into the trunk once more.
His
smile faded. "What are you looking for now?"
"I
know I put it in here...." she mumbled, tossing her expensive new garments
onto the bags and crates of provisions in Richmond's wagon. "I put it....ah!
I found it!"
He
watched curiously as she drew forth a small, elegant box of ivory. Exquisite
carvings graced the sides of the rectangular case and he continued to observe
as she raised the lid, peering inside. A bit of color reappeared in her cheeks
as she cautiously fumbled with the contents of the box until she came to the
item she apparently sought. Drawing forth a small envelope of green silk, she
replaced the ivory box in her trunk.
"What
is that?" Richmond asked softly, noting the care with which she held the
tiny parcel.
On
her knees, Arissa moved to the edge of the wagon to where Richmond stood. His
bright blue eyes were filled with a thousand emotions, all of them piercing
her heart until she could scarcely breath. She struggled against the natural
instinct to collapse into his powerful, comforting arms. To have him so close
yet forbidden the luxury of a simple touch was torture. The hands that clutched
the package began to quiver as she began to unwrap it.
"I
do not press all of the flowers I collect into pomades," she said softly,
her voice quaking. "Sometimes I simply press them flat between pieces of
wood. Once dried, they are preserved in a lovely state to enjoy forever."
Richmond
watched as she unfolded the green fabric, revealing a flattened, perfectly
preserved collection of tiny blue flowers. He stared at the dehydrated bouquet
a long moment, the name of the delicate blooms suddenly coming to mind and he
raised his eyes, his gaze softer and more emotional that Arissa had ever seen
it.
"Forget-me-nots,"
he whispered.
She
nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I want you to keep them. So
you will forget me not."
He
swallowed hard, blinking away the sting of his own tears. Without hesitation,
he carefully accepted the small parcel from her outstretched palm, groaning
softly when their flesh inadvertently touched. Under the guise of presenting
him with a gift, Arissa greedily caressed his fingers as he slowly,
lingeringly, claimed her tribute.
He
was loathed to pull his hand away from her gentle fingers, but he could not
allow their covert contact to continue lest the abbess become suspicious.
Already, she was uncomfortable with the proximity of their conversation, as it
had been a struggle to persuade the woman that he would do naught but calm
Arissa with a few brief words.
He
had been forbidden to touch her in any manner and although Richmond had been
prepared for the fact that Arissa would officially cease to become his charge
the moment he delivered her to the abbey, it was still difficult for him to
accept the fact that he was no longer able to do with her as he pleased.
You
are forbidden to touch her, sir knight. She’s no longer your concern
.
Technically,
the abbess was correct. But his heart still ached with the reality of it.
Taking
a deep breath, he forced a smile and refolded the green silk about the flowers.
He was well aware that it would be far less painful for them both if he were to
put on a brave front, showing her that he was confident in his ability to
return for her as quickly as possible. He had to show courage, for Arissa's
sake.
"I
shall keep your gift next to my heart, always," he said evenly. Noting the
faint smile on her lips, he gave her a saucy wink to reinforce his light tone.
"I shall return as soon as I can, kitten. Until then, you must decide what
you would name our fortress. I am depending on you."