"Please
let me go to him," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "You have a camp
full of soldiers that will guarantee he will not make an attempt to remove me
from your control. Please.... my presence can only serve to relax him. Will you
grant us a display of your infinite mercy?"
Owen
looked to her, seeing a good deal of his cousin in the beautiful features. As
Richmond toppled a chair in his agitated state, Owen watched as Hotspur righted
the chair and practically shoved Richmond onto it. After a moment, he simply
shook his head.
"I
cannot, my lady. He will not listen to me if you are in his arms, I promise
you. And it is imperative that he listen to my words."
Arissa
blinked, fat tears rolling on to her cheeks. Wiping the moisture away with
shaking hands, her gaze trailed to Richmond's pale face. "When you are
finished, then?" she whispered pleadingly. "Can I go to him when you
are finished?"
Owen
sighed; certainly, it seemed against the natural order of the heavens to keep
Sir Richmond and his lady apart. The two were a part of each other, that much
was evident. Even though the maintained distance was necessary in his opinion, he
still felt as if he were being unusually cruel.
"Mayhap
when I am done." More than likely, he realized his cousin would receive
her wish.
He
grasped Arissa by the arm, gently, and moved to within several feet of
Richmond. His dark eyes were intense on the massive knight, who was entirely
focused on Arissa. In his grip, he could feel the young woman quaking.
"I
will reiterate my words from earlier," Owen said softly. "You will
ally with Hotspur and myself, and the three of us will prove unbeatable against
Henry's rule. Is this clear?"
Richmond
was lost in the depths of the pale green eyes, barely aware of Owen's words.
But he heard them nonetheless. "And if I refuse?" He couldn't help
himself from expressing one final act of rebellion; after all, he was sworn to
Henry to the death. His allegiance to the king had always been his stronghold,
but gazing into Arissa's eyes, he realized that his loyalty to the king was a
pale comparison to his love for Arissa.
"Then
you shall never see her again," Owen said frankly. "Choose your
private hell, le Bec. Henry or the lady."
There
was no choice and they all were aware of the fact. But as Richmond gazed at
Arissa, a million thoughts were flashing through his mind with dizzying speed
and he fought to concentrate on one particular line of thinking; he had
established that Hotspur was allied with Owen, and he had furthermore vowed to
Henry that he would destroy Northumberland's heir if the man had turned against
the crown. To meet Henry Percy on the battle field could prove hazardous;
Richmond knew the man would be surrounded by warriors and to kill him would not
be easy.
As
Richmond pondered the situation, realization began to dawn; he knew how he
could defeat Hotspur and keep his promise to Henry, thereby gaining Arissa's
hand. Certainly, it did not matter whose side he was fighting on, so long as
Hotspur and the rebellion were terminated.
If
he were fighting alongside the man, eliminating him would be considerably easier.
It did not matter that his reputation risked irrevocable damage; it did not
matter than he would be placing himself in the utmost danger. All that matter
was disposing of Hotspur in order to gain Arissa's hand, any way he could.
Piece
by piece, block by block, he could weaken the rebellion if he was placed on the
inside
and considered a valuable ally when, in fact, he would proceed to
disembowel the resistant faction from the inside out. Sometimes external
threats were not nearly as deadly as internal assaults - a disease to destroy
from within.
He
would become that disease. By the time Owen realized he had brought about his
own downfall with his clever blackmail, it would be too late. Richmond would
kill them all.
But
he had to know Arissa wa
s safe before he was able to
commence. Drowning in his treacherous thoughts, he was aware that the Welsh
prince was expecting an answer. And he realized he had only one answer to give,
the only possible choice.
"I
am yours," he heard himself utter the fateful words. After a moment, he
focused on Owen. "Providing one factor - that you release Arissa."
Owen
held his gaze for a long moment, pondering the compromise Richmond was
suggesting. "What guarantee do I have that you will not refute your vow if
I release the very woman who would insure your loyalty?"
Richmond
swallowed. "I am a knight and my word is a good as my reputation. If you
cannot trust my word, then we have nothing more to say to one another."
Hotspur
interrupted Owen's careful reply. "He’s given you his word. You do not
need the lady."
Owen
faced a moment of indecision; it had taken him a very long time to secure the
king's daughter. As much as he desired to use the girl against her father,
something far more important had resulted from her possession; Richmond le Bec
had sworn his service. That in itself was the most powerful achievement he
could have hoped to accomplish. The girl had already served her purpose.
Owen
was unwilling to insult Richmond by declaring distrust in his word of honor. As
reluctant as he was to release Arissa, he realized he had no choice if he were
to show faith in Richmond's pledge. But his display of compromise did not come as
easily as he had hoped.
"Do
you swear to me that you will pledge your service to my cause if I release the
lady?" He hated himself for sounding so distrustful.
Richmond
sighed heavily, his body weary with emotion and fatigue. "I already told
you I would. You would insult me by doubting my pledge?"
Owen
was left with little choice; he would have to trust him. He stared at the man a
moment before releasing his grip on Arissa.
“I
would not," he said softly, eyeing Arissa as he turned for the tent flap.
"I shall give you five minutes alone with the lady. She will leave this
night."
"You
would send her out in to a threatening snow storm?" Richmond rose to his
feet, imploring. "Give us the night. She will leave come the morrow."
Owen
opened his mouth to staunchly refuse, but Hotspur interrupted him. "Of
course we would not send a delicate lady into this vicious weather," he
said firmly, daring Owen to contradict him. He looked at Richmond, hoping the
man didn’t hate him too much. "You have her for the night, Richmond. She
leaves at dawn."
They
quit the tent, leaving Richmond and Arissa in stunned silence. Dazed and
shaken, Richmond let out a ragged sigh before turning to find pale green eyes
staring up at him. Arissa was in his arms before he realized he had even moved
to her.
"God,
Riss," he murmured against her mouth, listening to her soft sobs. "What
happened? How did they find you?"
"Hotspur
came for me," she wept softly, tasting his musk as if she had been
starving for him all of her life. "He gave the mother abbess a false
missive from the king, demanding that I be delivered to Henry's death bed. She
had no choice but to release me to Hotspur's custody."
Richmond’s
jaw began to tick again. "He must have probed Lambourn to discover your
whereabouts," he mumbled, suckling her lower lip. "It was no secret
that you were destined for Whitby. Damn him, he knew that I would be in London
and unable to protect you and, being allied with Owen, he was a willing party
in the Welsh bastard's scheme to acquire you."
She
gasped as his mouth latched onto her honeyed lips, his tongue plundering the
depths of her mouth. Her small fingers gouged crescent-shaped wounds into his
scalp as she held him to her fiercely.
"What's
going to happen now, Richmond?" she tore her mouth away as he devoured her
neck, her jawline. "Are you really going to fight for Owen?"
"I
gave my word, kitten," he whispered, his eager manner slowing. "They
knew exactly how to manipulate me with your abduction and I am furthermore
convinced that they were planning on holding you captive in order to subdue the
English crown. But I turned the situation on them somewhat; I promised my
services in exchange for your release."
Her
eyes opened as her eager pace eased. "You shall be branded a
traitor."
He
did not say anything for a moment. "Trust me, kitten. I am not a traitor.
No matter what you hear or what things appear to be, I swear to you that I am
loyal to Henry. And to you."
"But
you are fighting for the rebellion now," she insisted fearfully.
"What will happen when...?"
He
kissed her hard to stop her words, the fears that were tearing at them both. He
felt as if his heart were being broken into a million little pieces and his
anguish knew no boundaries. How could he make her understand the deeper
implications of what he was about to do, the betrayal and treachery and murder?
He was about to descend into the ranks of the soulless, aligning himself with
those who would kill for a price or a cause or a need for blood.
He
was about to become a part of the filth. As much as he loathed assuming the
role of assassin and betrayer, he had no choice. But she need never know any of
it. He couldn't bear to see her disgust for him in her eyes. He had to do this
- for her.
"Nothing
will happen, kitten,” he murmured. “All will be well in the end, I promise you.
You must believe."
Her
eyes began to well with frightened, exhausted tears. "When.... when will I
see you? Richmond, you are going to battle again!"
He
kissed her softly, feeling his eyes stinging with tears. "You shall see me
very soon," his voice was hoarse with emotion. "I never could stay
away from you for an over amount of time."
"You
stayed away for nearly a year when Henry was battling for the throne," she
reminded him, wiping at her damp face.
"I
promise I will not be away for a year," he said firmly. "Weeks,
months. When we are together forever, what will a few short days matter?"
She
sighed, shaking her head. "All I know is we are about to face another
painful good-bye. When you left me at Whitby, I thought I was going to die. Now
I do not believe even death will be strong enough to ease my pain."
He
gazed at her a moment, knowing well the meaning of her words. Suddenly, he
remembered a worn fragment of affection he had tucked deeply inside his heavy
tunic, a token he kept with him always. Digging into his tunic, he drew forth a
wrinkled bit of green satin. Arissa tore her eyes away from his face long
enough to recognize the package.
"My
flowers," she whispered.
He
smiled, tucking them into her palm. "You gave them to me once and they
sustained me. Now I would return them to you, for safe-keeping. So that you
will forget me not while we are separated."
Arissa
clutched the parcel to her chest, smelling of leather and Richmond. "I
swear to you, I shall keep them next to my heart, always," releasing a
ragged sigh, she grasped at his stubbled face in desperation. "Why must
this happen, Richmond? My chest hurts so that I believe I am going to fade away
at this very moment."
He
pulled her to the pile of furs by the vizier, sending her to her knees as he
knelt in front of her. His face, half-illuminated by the blazing embers, met
her anguished gaze and he smiled. He was tired of feeling pain and there would
be enough pain in the weeks and months to come. But tonight, he only wanted to
feel Arissa, one last time.
"I
shall ease your pain, kitten," he murmured, moving to release the fastens
on her cloak. "This night is ours. Owen and Hotspur and the rebellion have
granted us that much. Tonight we will erase all pain and create memories of joy
for the future."
She
watched his massive hands as they disrobed her, feeling a mixture of heat and
anguish the likes of which she had never experienced. The pain in her chest
flowed to her hands, passing through to Richmond. "Then there is nothing
more we can do?"
He
shook his head, swallowing his sorrow. "Nay."
Tears
came to her eyes again but she struggled against them, offering him a feeble
smile. "Promise me we will not sleep."
The
cloak fell away. "We will not sleep."
"Promise
I shall forget all of my pain."
"I
promise."
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Year
of our Lord 1403
The
Month of July
Lambourn
Castle
In
spite of the heat and humidity, bugs danced upon the surface of the water like
a thousand happy fairies, frolicking endlessly. In the reeds, frogs burped and
waterlillies hovered silently as small fish nipped at their ragged edges. All
was peaceful and serene in this delightful, sticky little world as The Horde
infiltrated the shores of the tranquil sanctuary.
Laughter
floated about the joyful haven, peppered by the squeals of those who were
unfortunate enough to become the recipient of water to the face. As Emma and
Regine waded up to their knees in the cooling relief, Arissa and Penelope sat
on the shore beneath the shade of a large oak tree in various degrees of
discomfort.