Father,
he said softly
.
Nicole nearly shouted for joy at this first sign that he was considering moving on.
Follow the light. Go to Father. He waits for you.
The light is so bright, it hurts my eyes.
The light will not harm you. Beyond is peace. Beyond is Father. Go to him.
She wanted to scream at the silence of his indecision, to somehow give him a push toward the light and hope he kept going.
Then he said,
I love you, Nicole,
and he was gone.
Raw grief clenched her heart and bowed her head. Tears welled in her eyes and overflowed. She’d expected to feel relief, perchance joy. Instead, the sorrow pierced so deep, ’twas nigh on as wrenching as losing William the first time.
On a sob, she told Rhodri, “William is… gone.”
Rhodri knelt down and set his harp aside. “Ah, my love.”
She melted into his embrace and sobbed until her throat was raw and eyes were swelling shut. Rhodri held her tight, one hand rubbing her back, while she soaked through the shoulder of his tunic. Finally her tears ceased, and she breathed without a hitch to each inhale.
“There truly is magic in your harp. I could hear him, feel his emotions, but he did not overwhelm me.”
“Twice I almost grabbed you to pull you out of the church. I could see how much you were hurting.” He kissed her forehead. “The dagger. ’Twas through the dagger he could reach you, was it not?”
“His jealousy warmed the dagger against my ankle. To think, had I not had it in my boot, I might never have made the connection. Did you suspect?”
“Not until you put the dagger on his grave,” he admitted. “Then it made sense. What gave him cause for jealousy?”
“You. William did not like that you had the power to affect my relationship with him. I believe he somehow knew that my love for you was stronger than my love for him and realized this time I would abandon him if he did not give over.”
Rhodri went still, and Nicole realized she’d completely, perhaps unwisely, handed her heart into his keeping.
Except she wasn’t one bit sorry or worried. If ever there were a man she could trust with her heart, body, and soul, that man was her husband, Rhodri ap Dafydd.
He backed away slightly and, with a finger under her chin, raised her gaze to peer into his. What she saw in his deep-set brown eyes thrilled her to her core.
“I love you, Nicole. I dared not hope for more than your affection. Can you truly love me?”
Damn, she wanted to cry again, this time from happiness.
“I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. We are magic, you and I.”
Then he kissed her, and Nicole forgot to worry about their future. Whatever the days ahead might bring, she would be with Rhodri, and all would be well. Content to remain kneeling on the church floor; wrapped in his arms for as long as he wished; Nicole’s gaze landed on Rhodri’s harp.
“I recognized the music you played. ’Twas the song you composed on our journey to Wales. Have you written the words as yet?”
“I had not planned to play it, but when we walked into the church, the music seemed right somehow. Perhaps this melody needs no words.”
A special song for a singular event.
Her knees were beginning to protest a bit before he gave her a last squeeze and said, “We should go to the castle. By now your sisters will have heard of our arrival.”
Likely. One of the villagers would have run to the castle gate to announce Nicole’s return to Camelen. And she so much wanted to see her sisters, to share her happiness.
And the first thing she intended to do was give Alberic a long, joyous hug.
Nicole slipped the dagger back into her boot, the weapon no longer a threat to her peace.
Fare thee well, William.
She received no answer, and that was right and good.
Her hand in Rhodri’s, Nicole stepped out of the dark church into the sunlight.
A crowd had gathered in the village green. Villagers and castle folk. Rhys the bard and Father Paul.
Not far from the bottom of the stairs stood Gwendolyn and Alberic, Emma and Darian and, heaven have mercy, Aubrey de Vere, earl of Oxford.
With a triumphant look on his face, the earl thrust out an arm and pointed upward.
“Seize them!”
Rhodri could only stare at the man he’d never expected to see again.
What the devil was de Vere doing at Camelen?
Nicole leaned into his side. “There is a door in the sacristy. We can escape out the back.”
Four men garbed in the earl’s livery were coming toward him.
“Nay, my love. This is where we make our stand.” He shoved the harp into Nicole’s arms, stepped in front of her, and drew his sword.
“Call them back, de Vere!” he ordered in the same commanding tone the earl had used. “The church steps are no place for bloodshed. Nor do you wish a stray blade to nick the lady Nicole.”
For two heartbeats, the earl held his peace, then ordered his men to halt. With an inward sigh of relief, Rhodri lowered the tip of his sword—a concession, but not surrender.
“You are correct, Welshman. The lady must not be harmed. I am glad you have decided to submit peacefully.”
Like hell he had.
“My lord de Vere, you had no right to take us into your custody at Bledloe Abbey. As I see it, you have no right to do so now.”
“No right?” the earl blustered. “I sought to keep safe the king’s ward, and you unlawfully kidnapped the lady while in my charge!”
From behind Rhodri, Nicole huffed. She peeked around him but stayed behind him. Without his issuing an order. A nice change.
“Rhodri is not guilty of the charge,” she informed the earl. “He did not force me to leave Oxford. In truth, I aided his escape.”
De Vere’s smile for Nicole was patronizing. “There are witnesses to your distress that day, my dear. You need no longer suffer the indignity of the Welshman’s company.”
The man’s tone set Nicole to bristling.
“The witnesses saw and heard what we wished them to! Truth to tell, my lord, I am rather accustomed to and enjoy the Welshman’s company!”
Her answer didn’t sit well with de Vere. He clenched his fists.
“I understand you have been through a difficult time, my lady, and so must suffer a misjudgment of good sense. Nonetheless, you are the king’s ward and therefore subject to his will. I shall inform him you have been found and leave your fate to his verdict and command.”
Now Rhodri smiled. “When you inform the king of Nicole’s whereabouts, be certain to include news of her marriage in your message.”
Rhodri heard murmurs in the crowd but didn’t allow them to divert him.
The earl’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Marriage to whom?”
This wasn’t the way Rhodri had envisioned informing Nicole’s family of their marriage, but that didn’t stop him from answering, “To me.”
The crowd didn’t know if they should be happy or not. One thing was certain, Nicole’s family didn’t seem the least bit surprised. Truth to tell, a wide grin spread across Darian’s face, and he nudged Alberic with an elbow as if to say “There, did I not tell you?”
The disgruntled earl turned to Alberic.
“We shall have the marriage annulled immediately. I am sure Theobald of Canterbury will oblige us. He is still at Nottingham, so is easily reached.”
Alberic shrugged a dismissive shoulder.
“If Nicole has pledged to Rhodri, and so is truly wedded and bedded—” Alberic turned to peer up at Rhodri. “Nicole is truly wedded and bedded, is she not?”
Nicole softly gasped at the outrageous question.
Rhodri smiled at this unusual Marcher lord he was coming to like very much. “Wedded and bedded in good fashion, my lord.”
His audacious answer solicited a censorious growl from his wife—signaling the need for an apology later—and a nod of approval from Alberic, who continued.
“Then I consider Rhodri and Nicole husband and wife, and they will be treated as a wedded couple at Camelen. Besides, from what you told me of the negotiations in Nottingham, the war is over and King Stephen no longer needs Nicole to make an alliance with a Welsh noble. Since her marriage is no longer of political import, I say we leave the matter be.”
Said with a velvet sheath over a steel blade. The earl could have no doubt that if he chose to press for Rhodri’s arrest, he would find no ally in Alberic of Camelen.
Rhodri itched to ask what had transpired at Nottingham. If the war was truly over, then King Stephen and Duke Henry must have come to terms, and Henry Plantagenet would be the next man to sit on the English throne.
Bad news for Wales. But as Connor had said several weeks ago, Duke Henry would needs wait for King Stephen to die before he could take the crown. Perhaps there was time yet for the princes to come to some agreement on the defense of Wales, and Rhodri wished the current king of England a very long life.
But the news was good for Nicole. With no Welsh alliance necessary to sway the outcome of the now ended war, King Stephen no longer needed Nicole for political reasons. She wasn’t as important to him as she’d been mere weeks ago.
And none of that mattered if de Vere didn’t surrender his claim on Nicole or decide not to arrest a certain Welsh bard. The earl’s stiff spine and sour expression didn’t bode well.
But what else could the earl do, given Alberic’s stance? And given the large numbers of soldiers at Alberic’s immediate command. With his small escort, Aubrey de Vere couldn’t hope to win a challenge of arms. Rhodri could almost smell the earl’s inevitable retreat.
De Vere scowled at Alberic. “The king will not be pleased that one of his wards has been defiled, but as you say, the king no longer has need for Nicole to marry a Welsh noble. I shall inform the king of her marriage and whereabouts and allow him to decide whether or not to take further action.”
Nicole grumbled quietly. “I was not defiled.”
Rhodri smiled at the complaint but was willing to allow the earl his opinion if only he would leave!
De Vere said a curt fare-thee-well to Alberic and bowed courteously to Gwendolyn before stalking off, his escort scurrying to catch up.
Nicole shoved the harp into his arms and wasted no time in flying down the stairs and leaping into Alberic’s arms. The crowd finally cheered, thinking Nicole thanked Alberic for sending the earl on his way. Rhodri knew better. For the first time in eight years, Nicole could look on her brother-by-marriage without William screaming at her to do murder.
Then Nicole squealed and launched herself at her sisters. Gwendolyn, strikingly beautiful and willow slender—so she must have given birth. Emma, rounder and softer but no less beautiful in her own right.
But his thoughts and love were only for Nicole, the mostly convent-raised hoyden to whom, in Rhodri’s opinion, no other woman could compare.
They’d done well in the church. His harp
did
hold magic, his music allowing Nicole to, at long last, help her brother find his peace. While Rhodri took pride in the accomplishment, he was even prouder of Nicole. Watching her contend with her belligerent brother had shredded his heart. Hearing her confession of love had made him whole again.
Content to allow Nicole her reunion with her sisters without his interference, Rhodri slipped the sword under his belt and, armed only with his harp, descended the stairs to where Alberic and Darian stood and also fondly, patiently watched the sisters celebrate their reunion.
Alberic readily accepted Rhodri’s outstretched hand.
“’Twas good of you to bring her home,” Alberic said. “I thank you for the service you gave her, in the church.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised Nicole had immediately explained to Alberic, during their embrace, how she could now greet him without pain.
“Believe me, Alberic, I could do no less. May I assume both Gwendolyn and the new babe are doing well?”
A proud grin lit his face. “Babes. A boy and a girl. A surprise to us all. And, aye, all are healthy.”
“My felicitations, my lord, and my thanks for your support against the earl.”
“I had little choice,” he said without a hint of ire.
“You could have begged favor for Nicole and allowed the earl to have me.”
“Nicole would have fought to save you, and one does not lightly dismiss the desires of a Pendragon princess.”
Darian chuckled. “Nay, one does not. They are, all three, strong-minded women.”
Strong-minded, perhaps, but also loving and fiercely loyal to those they loved. So, too, were their husbands. Why Alberic and Darian had allowed Nicole to leave the inn in the company of a man they didn’t know, Rhodri had never quite understood.
“At the inn, you allowed Nicole to accompany me to Wales. I never came to any conclusions as to why.”
Darian waved a dismissive hand. “When you told us that Nicole had spoken to you of her gift, I realized destiny had already taken a hand. She would not have revealed her abilities, particularly with regard to William, if she did not already love and trust you. She had already chosen you, whether she knew it at the time or not. ’Twas the same with her sisters and us.”
“Your wives, they have powers similar to Nicole’s?”
Alberic answered. “Somewhat, but that is a tale for later, when we are all together, with no one else to hear. ’Twill require a stretch of belief on your part, and an oath to tell no other.”
“You may have that oath now.”
“Then we welcome you as our brother.” Alberic lightly cuffed Rhodri’s shoulder. “What say we celebrate the day’s success with a tankard of ale?”
Oh, that sounded grand, but he had one more thing to do before he could celebrate.
“Not as yet. I made a promise to Nicole I should like to keep now. While I assure you she is truly wedded and bedded, she worries that there were no witnesses to our vows. As long as her family is all gathered and a priest at hand, I should like to lay her concern to rest.”
Alberic glanced over his shoulder. “Father Paul, your services are required. Rhys, perhaps you can take charge of Rhodri’s harp for the nonce. There, I have done my part. All that remains for you to do is tear Nicole away from her sisters.”