Chapter Twenty-One #3
Arissa had begun to weep and Richmond was consumed with the vision before him.
He simply couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him, filling his mind with the black tides of disbelief even as he struggled to retain his grip on reality.
Arissa was here, in the midst of the Welsh resistance.
Owen, somehow, had managed to obtain her.
Suddenly, he understood a good deal of the Welshman’s irritating words. God’s Teeth, it was all painfully clear as he stared at the woman before him, more anguish filling him than he ever thought possible.
Before this night is through, you will pledge your loyalty to me.
“Oh, Riss,” he breathed, his chest heaving with emotion. “I am so sorry, kitten. Are you well? Have they harmed you?”
She was sobbing softly, swathed in the cloak he had given her. Her pale green eyes were wide with shock and fear, but she managed to nod faintly. “I am fine,” she whispered, her voice rising as she spoke. “Why are you here, Richmond? What is happening?”
He opened his mouth to explain, but truthfully, he was not sure how to answer. Owen, several feet from Arissa, moved toward the slight young woman with a good deal of sympathy in his expression.
“The Lady Arissa is aware that as my enemy’s daughter, she’s my guest for a time.
Beyond that, I told her nothing more,” he said evenly.
He had neglected to tell her of their blood relations, of her ties to both the crown and the Welsh rebellion.
For all she knew, she was simply a captive as Henry’s bastard daughter.
Furthermore, le Bec had no knowledge of Owen’s ties to Arissa and he intended to keep it that way, for certainly, the knowledge could be used against him just as he was using the same factors against le Bec. The pain of blood relations went in both directions.
“It is not necessary that she be privy to the detailed political dealings of men and I have chosen not to enlighten her,” he continued, almost quietly. “Do you dispute my wisdom in this matter?”
Dazed as he was, Richmond was not daft. For Arissa’s sake, it would be best to allow her to believe the simplest explanation, not the more extensive dealings of factional intrigue.
And having no knowledge of Owen’s relationship to his beloved, he couldn’t begin to imagine the precise depths of Glendower’s softly uttered statement.
Had he known, he would have come to appreciate Owen’s sense of restraint; clearly, if both Arissa and Richmond knew the Welsh resistor was a cousin of Arissa’s mother, it would have made a grossly complex situation considerably more difficult.
But Richmond was unaware of the deeper connotations of blood ties; he had enough grief to deal with at the moment. After a lengthy pause, he lowered his gaze. “Nay,” he whispered, raking his fingers through his hair as he struggled against his shattered composure. “She does not need to know….”
He trailed off, unable to continue as he focused his attention on Arissa once again, drinking in the sight of her.
Owen watched the meaningful expressions between them, the love and warmth filling the room even though they were separated by several feet.
Feeling as if he were intruding on the intimate reunion, he cleared his throat softly to regain Richmond’s attention.
“I apologize for the blunt presentation of my guest, but I wanted you to understand my sincerity when I made my previous statement,” he motioning to the guards holding Arissa, indicating for them to remove her.
All of Richmond’s resolve to collect himself vanished as Welsh soldiers moved to handle Arissa; he broke from Hotspur’s grasp, throwing himself forward as a host of broadswords lurched towards him in response to his action.
Startled, Arissa screamed in horror; Richmond was unarmed, without his usual protection, and she was terrified that he was about to end up impaled on the tip of a Welsh broadsword.
“No, Richmond!” she shrieked, extending her hands beseechingly to Owen. “Order them to sheath their swords, my lord! Please, before Richmond kills himself!”
Owen motioned sharply to his men, who were slow to obey. With Richmond uneasily restrained by Hotspur’s strength and Arissa’s words, Owen gazed at the man with a genuine concern.
“If you cannot control yourself, my lord, I will make it so that you will not see her again for some time,” he said seriously. “However, if you can guarantee your composure, I will allow her to remain for a short while.”
Richmond, unfortunately, could not vouch for his composure.
His entire body was aching to hold her, to protect her from enemy hands.
She was an unknowing pawn in a game of cataclysmic stakes and it nearly killed him to realize that, at the moment, there was nothing he could do to help her. He was being used as much as she was.
“Can…. can I hold her?” he whispered.
“No.”
Richmond’s jaw ticked furiously, his gaze fixed on Arissa.
Taking a deep breath, he struggled fiercely to regain his control and pulled himself gently from Hotspur’s grip.
Raking his fingers through is rich brown hair in a gesture bordering on madness, he faced Owen with as much composure as he could muster.
“I shall be calm,” he said, his voice raspy. “I swear it. Just…. do not remove her. I want her here, where I can see her.”
Owen nodded faintly and his soldiers vacated the tent, leaving Arissa unattended. As Richmond tore his gaze away from her and struggled to find a chair, any chair, so that he would not collapse completely. As he fumbled about, Arissa put her soft hand on Owen’s arm.
“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 battlefield 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 was 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.”