Fourteen
The next three days dragged for Rhianna as the castle filled with dignitaries from England and Wales. With the number of people attending all the activities she had no difficulty staying in the background. Garrett made no attempt to introduce her to any of the guests. She recognized no Welshmen in the visitors. Hiding a grin, she wondered if those who knew her father had stayed true to the rightful Price of Wales.
Margot and Richard gave no hint they knew she had overheard their argument. Mayhap, the less she thought about what she’d heard, the sooner she would forget. And that conversation she wanted to forget.
Garrett informed them that after the baptismal celebrations they would leave early the next morning, for he was eager to return to Knockin. Just after sunrise, they left the castle.
An hour into their journey, Rhianna began to breath easier. She and Arthur had somehow escaped discovery and now it was time to plan an escape to Brynn Ffrydd.
When the sun began to set, Garrett called a halt to their travels. Tents appeared on the landscape, cooking fires were started, whiffs of burning wood and cooking meat drifted over the camp. The hum of contentment surrounded them. Unaccustomed to this kind of travel, Rhianna sought Garrett’s tent and collapsed with fatigue. She had never been so tired. Not even on those long nights while she waited for Garrett to return and save her from the fate Colvin had planned for her.
When Garrett approached, she cringed.
“Nay, wench, I bear you no harm. Nor will I bed you this night.” He smiled. “I do believe you have not traveled overmuch.”
She was too exhausted to do much more than nod her head. He had the right of it. She had traveled little, choosing to stay at Brynn Ffrydd and care for Lily and the keep.
“Then I’ll bid you good sleep.” As he walked away from the tent, she heard him talking to Lydon about setting a guard. She removed her gown and crawled under the furs. She would seek Arthur out the next day. They would be in Wales for at least that long. In a matter of mere seconds, she was asleep.
The second day was the same as the first. By nightfall, she was again so exhausted, she fell onto the furs without a thought to where she was or even if Garrett would come to her this night.
She had been asleep for hours, it seemed, when she awoke.
“Nay, wench. Do not fear. ‘Tis I. And you are too tired to take part in any loving again this night.”
Rhianna thought he sighed, but she couldn’t be certain. Her eyes drifted shut and she knew nothing more until the next morn. The furs on Garrett’s side of the bed were cold when she rose to dress. She donned her garments and hurried outside to break her fast.
Arthur waited for her outside Garrett’s tent. ‘Twas the first time her brother had actual proof she and Garrett shared the same tent. He did not look pleased.
“Say nothing,” she said, before he could comment.
“Nay, I’ll not be quiet. I’ve heard the rumors. Garrett asked questions of me and I should have asked what he had in mind. Rhianna, this is not right.”
“Do not judge. And believe I do not have much say in this.”
Arthur bristled. “He forced you?”
She felt her cheeks warm. “‘Tis none of your business.”
“You are wrong. You are my sister. I’ll—”
“Nay. You will do nothing. And he did not force me.
Now, are you satisfied?”
For a second, she thought he looked a bit taken aback, but she could not be certain.
“Arthur, what I do, I do because I want. You know I never planned to marry after I lost Dafydd. Don’t look so shocked. We must talk about escape, not what I...”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought of leaving Garrett tore at her. What was wrong with her? Had he grown to mean something to her? She chose to ignore her own questions.
“I don’t like this.” Arthur was not finished. “I must have my say. Garrett takes what is not his to take.”
“Arthur! Leave it.”
“Nay, I cannot.” He stomped off, leaving her twisting her hands. He could not confront deShay. Her brother had no right to speak a word. In fact, knowing him as she did, he would probably blurt too much information. Even if Edward claimed Wales, she did not want their pretense destroyed. She no longer feared being taken for a hostage, but she still had no idea what Garrett had planned for the children of Alvin of Brynn Ffrydd.
“Wench,” Garrett called. “Mount up. We are leaving. You can argue with your brother at a later time.”
Rhianna glared at him, then at the palfrey one of his pages brought forward. Had he heard any of their conversation? Nay, not with that amused expression on his face. But, somehow, she had to get to Arthur, make him understand that any discussion with deShay was dangerous, and certainly not to her liking. Garrett was intelligent. He just might add the facts, then she and Arthur would have no say in their fate. She banished the unpleasant thoughts and accepted the aid of the page holding her palfrey, joining the caravan as they left the campsite.
This day, they stopped often. Mayhap Rhianna was not the only one who suffered from the long trip. Even so, she tried several times to seek out Arthur, but Garrett or one of his soldiers was always there to stop her.
It was scarce twilight when Garrett halted their travel. Again, tents arose and familiar fragrances encircled them. This night exhaustion did not claim her as it had on the other nights.
Before it grew too dark to see, she wandered the edge of the encampment, looking for Arthur. She found him with several other servants from Knockin’s stables. Talking about an escape with others present would not work. Sighing, she left the area and made her way back to the tent.
“Time to eat, wench,” Garrett said as she approached.
It had not occurred to her before, but she was hungry. Oh, nothing like the pain during her confinement at Knockin, but she was hungry for the first time in days. Away from Edward’s castle she realized her tension had abated.
While they ate, she asked questions about their journey.
“How soon before we reach Knockin?”
She saw his smile in the light of their small fire and her heart leapt. All it took was one of his smiles and her heart did strange things.
“We have at least one more day of travel. We went slowly today because all are weary. And I’m hungry.”
How could he say that? Already he’d eaten half of the meal. He must have read her mind, for he grinned and she saw the desire in his eyes.
“Oh...” she murmured.
“Aye, for you, wench, just for you.”
“Is that why you halted the travel so early this day? Because you want to bed me?” Shades of Arthur’s argument played through her mind.
“Part of the reason.” The grin he gave her was full of his lust. At his words, something in her quickened.
“Prepare yourself,” he whispered, before he reached over with his fingers to stroke her cheek. “Such a pretty blush,” he said as he rose to his feet. “I’ll be back in a trice.”
She could only nod her head. Already, her breasts tingled, and low in her belly, a yearning began that only he could ease. She stumbled to her feet. With a quick glance around and praying no one else had viewed their intimate contact, she made her way to his tent.
A short time later, he slid into bed next to her. In an instant, she was in his arms, his mouth on hers, as if his hunger could not manage for another second. Any thinking became impossible. She reveled in his touch while the warm glide of his tongue swept her mouth, his special taste filling her mind, his own fragrance filling her senses. His tongue waged war with hers and she groaned into his mouth.
“Aye,” he breathed against her lips. “It is the same with me.” Before she had a chance to reply, his hand moved from her throat down, over her collar bone, over the soft mound of her breast until he fingered one pert nipple. She couldn’t help herself. She purred just like a kitten.
“You like that, don’t you?”
She couldn’t answer, didn’t try. He moved to the other breast and he sighed. Or mayhap the soft gasp was her own; she couldn’t tell.
He left her lips to kiss her chin, her throat, her shoulders. In the darkness she sensed his head moving toward her breasts. She wiggled in anticipation. But before she had a chance to prepare, his mouth was on her, laving the beaded peak over and over until she knew she could no longer draw a decent breath.
Pleasure this intense could not be real, but it was. Oh how it was. The need to return to him the same sensations racing through her had her lifting her arms. She placed her hands on his chest, first toying with the hair she found there. It was like silk, short, curly, and such a joy to let slide through her hands. She stopped at his small paps, running her fingers over them, stroking, toying, and smiling as they hardened with her play. What would he do if she kissed him there?
Before she had a chance to find out, he moved back to her lips, savoring her, as if until now, he had never tasted her. She squirmed in ecstasy. There could be no other word for this sensation. It was ecstasy.
He moved from her mouth to her breasts. But his hands slid further, to her stomach, to her legs, to her thighs. Without hesitation, she drew her legs apart in invitation. He slid between them and lifted his head. In the half-light created by dying flames shining through the cloth of the tent, she saw the tense expression on his face.
“Now,” she whispered.
“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice so husky it sounded as if he had run from Wales to this particular spot. He dived for her breast, sucking it into his mouth and she moaned at the tension he created. The desire low in her belly grew, until it became an ache she could no longer stand. She wanted him there. She would put him there.
Reaching between them, she touched the steel shaft of his manhood. Velvet. Soft as the finest silk. She held him, enjoying the throbbing her touch evoked, forgetting her intent for the moment.
She did not get to hold him long, for he wrenched himself from her touch.
“Enough,” he said, again his voice strained beyond imagining. Her lips curled in satisfaction. She had the same effect on him that he had on her.
Then he entered her in one long stroke. She melted into him. There was no other way to describe it. As the tempo of their lovemaking increased, Rhianna wondered if indeed this time she would die. She caught her breath as the almost familiar waves began to gather, to take her outside herself, into the night, faraway, among the stars. Some sense told her he followed her.
After her body descended from its flight onto the furs, she sighed. He wrapped her in his arms and she faced a contentment she had not known for some time. A tiny thought crept into her near peace. She was falling in love with Garrett deShay.
Lydon’s voice calling to Garrett brought them both to the present. The fragile light of dawn had just cleared the horizon and Rhianna stretched, wondering for a moment where she was. Then she remembered and she rolled over to watch Garrett jump into his garments.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Aye. Or Lydon would not have disturbed us.”
Oh, St. Dafydd. Her cheeks heated immediately. They must be the color of the sun, they were so hot. Of course, she knew his knights had knowledge he had bedded her, but once again her position flared into reality.
He was out of the tent before she had a chance to recover. She questioned whether she should dress or stay where she was. Get yourself clothed, she decided.
She listened but heard only a soft murmur. Garrett and Lydon had moved away from the tent. Whatever had called him from her side was information she would have to wait to hear.
~ * ~
“I beg your pardon, my Lord, you have a message from Joseph.” Lydon strode toward one of the young pages from Knockin who stood in the shadow of an oak, his blowing horse at his side.
Garrett frowned. The young man bore a parchment roll, but it could not be from the king. They had only just left Edward’s castle. Surely he was not being summoned back to Caernarvon. Nay, this was a page from his own estate.
“Aye, boy, what have you?”
“A message from Joseph, my Lord.”
“Trouble,” Garrett said, hearing his own disgust in his voice. “See to your horse,” he told the page, taking the scroll and turning toward the rising sun.
Garrett started to read and then chuckled.
“Good news, my Lord?” Lydon asked.
“Aye, that you could say,” Garrett responded.
Glancing at Lydon’s curious stare Garrett explained, “Joseph writes that our friend, Lord Moirant must have learned which barons had been summoned by Edward for the baptism. It also seems he wanted Lord Harleigh’s wife.”
“So like Moirant,” Lydon muttered.
Garrett glanced at the parchment, then continued, “While the Baron was in Wales at Edward’s directive, Moirant tried to breech the walls of one of his castles south of us. Moirant must have figured with the man gone for the baptism, the lady wife would be easy to steal. How he knew she was still in residence, Joseph doesn’t say, but the guards the Baron set in place disposed of Moirant quickly enough.”
“So, Lord Moirant is no longer among the living?”
“Aye. Now I wonder who Colvin will persuade to join his schemes? Well, see the young man who brought the message fed and he can join our caravan. Only one more night in the open, then we’ll be home.”
He started back toward his tent, stretching as he went. Any man’s demise was not happy news, but he did not regret Moirant’s passing. If any man deserved to get what he had meted out to those under him, Moirant was that man. The tales of his cruelty were well known. Garrett shivered, thinking about how Rhianna might have fared if she too had fallen into Moirant’s hands.