Chapter Thirteen
Two weeks later
Glenteige Castle
It had been thirteen days since Devlin’s return to Black Castle, but to Emllyn, it felt like a lifetime.
Seated in Elyse’s fine solar, so fine and fancy that it looked as if a queen lived there, Emllyn sat before an embroidery frame, working on a piece she had started a few days before.
It was of an angel in the Garden of Eden, an ambitious piece with flowers and birds.
Emllyn was very good at sewing, so she took delight in a challenge.
Emllyn had been sewing on the piece steadily since she had started it, putting angels and animals to needle when her thoughts were far away with Devlin.
At the top of the piece were the five little words Devlin had said to her, words she would never forget.
They were the most important words she had ever heard.
Everything leads me to thee.
This day in March was cool and dreary, as a storm had blown in off the Irish Sea and continued to drench the countryside with a heavy downpour.
A fire burned brightly in the hearth as a cool and damp breeze blew in through the thin lancet windows.
Emllyn sat, wrapped up in a fur-lined robe and warm slippers, as Elyse chattered continuously as she sat at her beautifully carved drawing table and sketched with charcoal.
These days with Elyse were comfortable and companionable, and Emllyn had come to like her a great deal.
Elyse was quite an artist, the result of many hours of spending time alone.
She had to fill the time somehow, so she had practiced her drawing and had become very proficient at it.
At this moment, she was working very hard on something that Emllyn had yet to see, but she knew the woman had been working on it for a couple of days.
Charcoal on parchment made for the most beautiful and emotive art.
But the woman was talking so much that Emllyn was surprised she was able to get anything accomplished at all.
“… and then he told me that he did not even like for me to look at another man,” she was saying as she sketched. “Of course, I told him he was ridiculous. We are not even pledged, after all.”
Emllyn smiled weakly, glancing up from her sewing. “Has he spoken to your father yet?”
Elyse shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “I believe he feels as if it is a mere formality. After all, he is the most eligible candidate at Glenteige so I do believe he feels as if it’s understood by all that he will someday be my husband.”
Emllyn wriggled her eyebrows as she focused on her needle. “Very presumptive,” she said. “I do not like any man who assumes things before he has been given permission.”
Elyse stopped drawing and looked at her. “Nor do I,” she declared. “In fact, I have been thinking of ignoring him for a time to teach him a lesson. I’ll not come so easily to him, you know. I am not a prize to be won or a commodity to be bartered for.”
Emllyn grinned. “Are there no other eligible bachelors here other than Connaught?”
Elyse cocked her head thoughtfully as she went back to work. “Christopher has a younger brother, Drew,” she said. “He is quite handsome. But he is also quite young and quite frisky with women, if you get my meaning. I have heard he has at least two bastards.”
Emllyn giggled. “You do not want a man with bastards,” she said. “Who else?”
Elyse was carefully shading something. “There are a couple of lesser knights,” she said. “My father has an entire stable of knights, but only a few I would even look at more than once. I suppose the reality is that Christopher is the only true marital candidate for me.”
Emllyn looked up at her. “And this displeases you?”
Elyse shrugged. “It would be nice to have more of a selection,” she said. As they giggled, her focus on Emllyn grew more intense. “And what of you? Do you have any prospects for marriage?”
Emllyn was careful in her answer. “Nay,” she said softly. “I have told you of the man I thought to marry, but he was killed.”
Elyse had heard the story of Sir Trevor, Emllyn’s one and true love, and how the man had been killed in the battle at Black Castle those weeks ago.
She had tried to get more of the story out of her but Emllyn didn’t seem to want to talk about it.
Although Elyse was trying to be tactful when discussing Emllyn’s recently lost love, it frustrated her to no end that the woman wouldn’t elaborate. She was very curious.
“I am sorry for you, of course,” Elyse said quietly. “But shouldn’t you think of your future, or do you plan to pine away for a dead man? You are young and beautiful, but you will not be that way forever. You must marry while you are still attractive.”
It was a harsh way of putting it but she wasn’t far wrong. Still, Emllyn shook her head. “Mayhap,” she said. “But I am not thinking of marriage now.”
“But you will someday?”
“Of course I will.”
Elyse sighed dreamily, thinking on Emllyn’s future lover. “Will you at least invite me to your wedding when you do marry? I should like to see the husband you finally choose.”
Emllyn had a mental picture of Elyse at her wedding to Devlin and it almost made her laugh. “If you will come, of course I will invite you.”
Elyse was thrilled. She went back to her drawing.
“My father would chastise me if he heard me say this,” she said, “but I have seen many handsome Irishmen since I have been in Ireland. I swear that the country is overrun with handsome men. It is unfortunate that I cannot marry an Irishman, for I would dearly love to have a handsome Irish husband.”
Emllyn grinned at her. “Connaught is not handsome or Irish enough?”
Elyse waved her off. “He is very handsome,” she said. “But he is so… English. To hear a man say my name in an Irish accent… ’tis heavenly!”
Emllyn giggled at the woman’s silly romantic notions. They were sweet. As she focused on her work again and took another stitch, she heard Elyse’s soft voice upon the air.
“John is a very handsome man,” she ventured. “He told my father that his wife and daughter died. Do… do you know much about him?”
Emllyn’s good humor fled and jealousy filled her veins.
She could tell just by the woman’s tone that she was interested in Devlin and it was an effort not to fly over the table and wrap her hands around Elyse’s neck.
But she remained calm and cool, reminding herself that Elyse had no true knowledge of who Devlin was or of his relationship to Emllyn.
Moreover, she couldn’t fault the woman for her excellent taste; he most definitely was a big, handsome man.
“He is a farmer,” she said, avoiding the question. “Your father would never allow you to marry an Irish farmer.”
Elyse sighed. “I know,” she said. “But he is still devilishly handsome. What do you know of him?”
It was the same question; Emllyn realized that the woman wasn’t going to let it go.
She had insatiable curiosity, more than likely because she really hadn’t had any female companionship to talk to before Emllyn had come along.
It was as if she was making up for all of those lonely days with no one to pass the time with.
“Not too terribly much,” Emllyn replied, focused on her needlework. “He was very kind to me and helped me a great deal.”
“He cares for you.”
Emllyn shrugged. “It is only normal concern, I am sure.”
Elyse had stopped drawing; she was gazing intently at Emllyn. “To dream of a man like that with his arms around me, in my bed,” she murmured. “It makes me warm all over.”
Emllyn’s head shot up, looking at Elyse with a mixture of curiosity and shock. “God’s Blood, Elyse,” she said; she had long since stopped addressing her formally as “lady” since they had become fast friends. “What a deviant mind you have.”
Elyse cocked an eyebrow at her before breaking down into giggles. “I have a healthy curiosity for men in general,” she admitted. “Christopher may be handsome but he is a boring lover. I’ve had better.”
Emllyn nearly choked. “Better lovers?” she repeated. “Surely you do not mean…?”
Elyse nodded swiftly, cutting her off as she returned to her drawing. “The young, strong ones are usually more exciting in bed, but often with them it is over too soon,” she said. “Older men can control themselves better but they are usually so unimaginative.”
Emllyn’s eyes widened. “Elyse!” she gasped. “You are shameless!”
Elyse giggled. “Do not play coy with me,” she said, a knowing twinkle in her eye. “Merradoc told me what you and John did. He said the entire chamber smelled like rough and sweaty mating. Tell me – was his manhood big and full? Did he use it wisely?”
Emllyn almost fell out of her chair. She could hardly believe the twist the conversation had taken, shocked to the point of giggling uncontrollably. Elyse giggled right along with her. Emllyn covered her mouth, giggling so hard that she could barely breathe.
“But… but your father,” she gasped. “He is a very proper and moralistic man. How do you… what if he…?”
“I am very careful,” Elyse said. “But the truth is that my father does not come near my chamber. His chamber is on the second floor and he leaves me well enough alone.”
Emllyn was still struggling with the thought of a reckless and sexually active Elyse; she’d never heard anything more astonishing because the woman, for all appearances, seemed like a properly prudish lady.
After having sat with the woman for hours each day for the past two weeks discussing all manner of subjects, this was the first Elyse had mentioned her carnal pleasures. The realization was therefore a shock.
“God’s Blood,” Emllyn finally hissed. “You are full of surprises, my lady.”
Elyse nodded as she continued to titter in a maidenly manner. “Let us speak of John again,” she said. “Was he wonderful? He is such a big and strong man, I imagine it would rather be like mating with a bull.”