Chapter Twenty #2
“He is coming,” Westley assured her. “Truly, it’s not so terrible. But he will need a comfortable bed to recover in, and he has sent me ahead to tell you. He did not want you to be worried when you saw that he had been injured.”
That didn’t help Diara in the least. She was sobbing. “Injured?” she cried. “What has happened to him?”
Westley was genuinely distressed to see how upset she was.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not do this very well. I wanted to tell you in private that we found Roi. He had been injured in a skirmish. But he is alive and he is coming home. He simply needs some time to recover, but he is alive, Diara. I swear to you, he is alive.”
That did absolutely nothing to ease her.
She wept for an entirely different reason now, knowing her husband was injured but alive.
He was coming home, in what condition she didn’t know, but at least he was heading home.
Diara wept for another solid minute, struggling to catch her breath, while Kyne and Westley desperately tried to comfort her.
But just as quickly, she took a deep breath, stopped her tears, and wiped furiously at her face.
“He’s alive,” she said, more to herself than to them. “He’s coming home and he’s alive.”
“Aye,” Westley said, still deeply concerned. “But please do not tell Roi that I made you cry. He will kill me.”
That had Diara bursting out into laughter.
“If you are worried about that, then he must not be too seriously hurt,” she said.
“I promise I will not tell him. But the next time you come to prepare me for something like this, the first words out of your mouth should be that my husband is alive and will be fine, given time.”
Westley nodded. “I will try to remember that,” he said. “But hopefully, there will not be another time.”
Diara couldn’t disagree with him. She continued to wipe at her eyes, composing herself as best she could. “Now,” she said, trying to focus on what needed to be done. “I will go to the keep to ensure that our bed is ready for him. Is there anything else he needs?”
“Only you, I am sure,” Westley said. “He has been talking about you, without stopping, since we found him.”
Diara wanted to ask him so much more, but that would have to wait.
She knew that Roi was coming home and that he would be well again, and that was all that mattered.
She broke away from Kyne and Westley, rushing back to the keep and sending Finnick into a fit when she gave him the news.
The man whipped the servants into a frenzy, all of it directed at preparing the master’s bedchamber for his return.
As she turned to head to the kitchen to talk to the cook about preparing food that was easy to digest, she caught sight of a few soldiers coming in through the gatehouse. Soldiers meant army.
The army had returned.
She made a run for it.
Westley, in fact, was at the gatehouse and had to hold her back.
Diara fully intended to go charging into the ranks to find her husband, but that would only get her trampled, so Westley held on to her as the bulk of the army passed beneath the gatehouse.
The wagons, slower, were tagging along behind.
Once Diara caught a glimpse of the wagons, Westley lost his grip on her.
She ran like the wind.
The first wagon contained food stores, but the second wagon contained several de Lohr brothers, sitting on the bed and on the sides of the wagon, and right in the middle of them was Roi.
When Diara caught sight of him, she cried out, and, startled, he turned to see her trying to vault onto the wagon.
Douglas was there and lifted her up, straight into Roi’s open arms.
Actually, it was only one arm, since the left one had been bandaged into position so it couldn’t move.
Both of his wounds were on the left side, so the physic that traveled with the de Lohr army bandaged him up tightly so he couldn’t move the limb.
But he didn’t need that arm to hold Diara, who had her arms around his neck and her face in the side of his head, weeping softly at the joy of the reunion.
Truth be told, Roi shed a few tears himself.
“They told me what happened,” Diara wept. “I’m so sorry, Roi. Sorry my father did this to you. I’m so very, very sorry.”
He kissed her repeatedly, on the cheek and on the hair, holding her so tightly with his one arm that he was squeezing the breath from her.
“You tried to warn me,” he said. “I should have listened. I am so sorry that I did not.”
She pulled back to look at him, running her hands over his face to reacquaint herself with him. He was dirty, sweaty, and his lip was swollen from where he’d clearly been hit, but he’d never looked so good to her.
“In a world where my father is a normal man, you would have been perfectly correct not to listen to me,” she said. “But he is not a normal man. He’s horrible and vindictive, but this went beyond anything I believed he was capable of. I will never speak to him again as long as I live.”
Roi didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply pulled her into his embrace again, but his gaze was on the men riding either on or around the wagon.
Each one of them knew the truth of what had happened.
Directly behind the wagon, Magnus, Aeron, and Tiegh were on their horses.
They’d joined up with the de Lohr army after their task at Cicadia was complete. Therefore, Roi knew everything.
It was important that Diara knew everything, too.
Almost everything, anyway… and gently told.
“Angel,” he said, loosening his grip so he could look at her. “Though I survived the battle, your father did not. For your sake, I will mourn him if you want me to. But you must know that he is no longer with us.”
Diara looked at him in shock. “He… My father is dead?”
“He is.”
She stared at him for a moment, digesting the information, before finally shaking her head.
“I do not know what I feel,” she said, though she was blinking away the tears.
“He was so wicked to you, Roi. I can never forgive that. And if his wicked actions brought about his own end, then it was deserved. How can I mourn the loss of such evil?”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I will do whatever you want me to,” he said softly. “He tried to cause my death, but he is also your father. I realize that puts you in a difficult position.”
She shook her head before he finished speaking.
“Nay, it does not,” she said. “My father and I… I am not a fool, Roi. I know he only paid me attention because he thought he could make a fine marriage match and profit from it. That is the truth of it. I wasn’t a daughter to him as much as I was a commodity.
While I will mourn the loss of my father, I will not mourn the loss of the man. Does that make sense?”
He nodded. “It does.”
“What of my mother?” she said. “Does she know?”
Roi nodded. “She does,” he said. “Would you like to go to her? I will understand if you do.”
Diara looked at him for a long moment. It was clear that she was thinking about something, because she had a way of looking at Roi that very nearly gave him a peek into her mind’s eye.
And she had such a brilliant mind.
“Nay,” she finally said. “I do not want to go to her. I do not want to go to Cicadia at all, but you are the Earl of Cheltenham now, and Cicadia Castle is your property. Mayhap… mayhap I will invite my mother to stay with us, if she wishes, and Iris can come with her. I have missed Iris.”
“You could have sent for her anytime, you know.”
Diara nodded. “Aye, I know,” she said. “But we were just coming to know one another, and I was just coming to know Adalia and Dorian. I wanted that time with you, and with them, without Iris interfering. We are a family, after all. We needed to be with one another.”
He stroked her hair gently. “A sweet sentiment and one that is appreciated,” he said. “But at some point, your father must be buried. Will you want to attend his funeral?”
Diara sighed faintly. “I am his only child,” she said. “Yet I am not sure I want to be there. He tried to kill you, Roi. I simply cannot forgive him for that.”
He didn’t push her. She could make her own decisions and he would abide by them.
There was much more he wanted to tell her—about Cirencester’s demise, perhaps even a general description of the battle and the situation, but that would have to wait.
He simply didn’t feel like bringing that into their world right now because he was safe, he was home, and that was all that mattered.
And he had the men around him to thank for that.
Brothers, cousins, nephews, and colleagues. Some of the best men England had to offer, in both skill and character. He owed them everything and he knew it, but for the new Earl of Cheltenham and his countess, his life, as he saw it, was just beginning.
Roi de Lohr had been given a second chance, and he wasn’t going to squander it.
But the one person who had made it all possible was back behind Magnus, plodding along on his exhausted steed. Roi could see about half of Mathis’ body, and he motioned to Douglas to bring the man forward. Mathis heard his name being called and reined his beast next to the wagon.
“Mathis, if it were not for you, I would not be here,” Roi said as Diara turned to look at her father’s former knight.
“I realize I’ve been surrounded by a dozen de Lohrs, all of them grimly determined to ensure that I survive, but the real person to thank in all of this is you.
You did not have to do what you did. You could have gone along with Robin’s plans, and I would now be moldering on the ground somewhere.
If you would like to remain in the service of Cheltenham, as the commander at my garrison of Cicadia Castle, I would be most grateful. ”
Mathis looked weary and worn. Diara pushed herself off Roi and moved to the edge of the wagon, holding out her hand to Mathis, who took it after a moment’s hesitation.
She squeezed his hand tightly.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “For saving his life. I know none of this has been easy for you, but for the fact that you decided to do what was right and good, I can never thank you enough. I owe you everything.”
Mathis smiled weakly, giving her hand a squeeze before letting it go.
“You’ve not known much happiness in your life, Lady Cheltenham,” he said, using her title for the first time.
“I’ve known you for many years, and I have seen the things you’ve had to endure, and you have always done it with grace.
The rumors of your time at Carisbrooke, the attitude of your father…
I’ve seen it all. When I realized what was happening between your father and Fairford, I knew I had to do something about it.
I did not do it for any great loyalty towards the House of de Lohr, but I did it because I knew, if Roi perished, that you would not recover.
Every person hopes they meet that person who makes them feel whole.
I believe you have met yours. I could not stand by and watch you lose him. ”
The tears were back in Diara’s eyes. “And I will be ever grateful for it,” she said. “If I can ever return the favor, you know I will.”
He lifted a dark brow. “Will you, my lady?”
“Of course. Anything.”
Mathis’ eyes took on a gleam. “Enough to convince your husband to allow me to court his daughter?”
Diara broke out in a big smile. “Enough even for that,” she assured him confidently. “In fact, while I take Roi into the keep, I believe a certain young lady is behind the kitchens at the fishpond. I know she would be more than happy to see you.”
Mathis chuckled, but he was grateful. Perhaps he was unable to marry Diara, but in the end, they had a good understanding of one another. He appreciated the bond they had built, and that was something he never wanted to lose. He wanted to be in her life any way he could be.
Even if that meant only as a friend.
As the wagon came to a halt in the bailey and several men went to help Roi out of the wagon bed, Diara simply backed away and let the men do the work.
She remembered telling Roi once that she’d never really had much of a family and, suddenly, she had a big one.
Men who had risked their lives to save Roi, to pull him from the jaws of death.
It was only later—much later—she was told just how close to death he had come.
That made her more grateful than ever for those who had come together to save him.
It was the best possible outcome of the tale of the widower who had no intention of remarrying until he agreed to fulfill the betrothal of his dead son, marrying a woman half his age, but in that marriage, Roi de Lohr was reborn.
Theirs was a love story for the ages.