Chapter 8
Restlessly Frederica sat up in bed, plumped her pillow, and lay back again.
Should she give up on Roderick and go to sleep?
Usually he came to her as soon as the house was abed, but it was long past midnight now.
He had not indicated any change in plan to her earlier, but perhaps he had been concerned that Darcy might notice. Still, it was unlike him.
Unless he had been caught by someone. He was so careful, though, always taking on an illusory form before leaving his bedroom for hers. More careful than she would have been on her own, but that was Roderick all over.
Most likely something had come up. How irritating, though!
She had been waiting for this time together all day, through those long hours of pretending they were nothing more than acquaintances.
She tossed and turned a few more times before deciding she would give him a quarter hour more.
If she was even able to sleep, not knowing why he had decided to stay away.
Was he growing tired of her already? An ache pulsed in her chest.
Then a familiar scratching sounded, and the door opened to reveal what appeared to be a maid. She knew who it was, though, and suddenly all was well again, as the maid’s features dissolved away, leaving Roderick in his dressing gown.
More relieved than she cared to admit, she pushed herself up on her elbows. “I thought perhaps you were not coming tonight.”
His mouth twisted. “My apologies. Darcy wanted to discuss the wards again, and I could hardly say that I needed to leave in order to spend the night in his young cousin's bed.”
“True.” With the joy she only felt in his presence, she held out her hand to him. “You are here now, and that is what matters.”
He set his chamberstick on a small table and took her hand, sending a familiar lance of desire racing through her. He lowered himself to sit on the bed beside where she lay. “I am glad.” He bent down and caressed her mouth with his.
Oh, how delicious he was! She wound her arms around his neck and tried to tug him closer, preparing to lose herself in him.
But his shoulders were tense, his body resisting her. Something was wrong. She released her grip and pulled away. “What is the matter?” she asked.
He sat up again, entwining his fingers with hers more tightly. But his face in the flickering candlelight was stern. “I received a letter from my father today, insisting that I come home immediately.”
Ice flooded her veins. Of course. He had told her from the beginning this could not last. “And will you?” She made her voice as level as she could.
“I must, no matter what my own wishes might be. I have delayed it too often already.” He sounded regretful, nothing more.
Suddenly his touch, his hands clasping hers, felt intolerable, like a lie. He was not going to fight for what they had. She had always known that, but somehow there had been a ray of hope inside her.
And now that hope was extinguished.
Leaving only anguish, the ache of knowing she was losing the only man who had ever seemed to understand her.
But he was showing no distress. While his expression was serious and his eyes seemed concerned, it was clear his heart was not breaking. Perhaps he was even glad to have an excuse to go back to his thrice-damned Wales.
Why should he not, after all? He had never sought out this liaison; he had even said it was a poor idea and that nothing could come of it but pain.
She had been the one to push him into it, assuming his obvious attraction to her meant something more than the normal physical response of a male to any female.
Had she ever been anything more than a momentary amusement to him?
This was her own fault. Left to him, they would never have been more than friends. And now they would be nothing.
She could do nothing to stop this agony, but she could try to preserve a bit of her pride. “Well, then, I suppose our little interlude is over,” she said coolly. “When do you leave?”
He hesitated. “Tomorrow afternoon, though I will only go as far as the Nest then. I must negotiate with the Eldest about when she will permit Rowan to join me in Wales, so I will spend the night there tomorrow and depart in the morning.” With no invitation that she might travel with him at least that far.
Her mouth went dry. They had no time at all, then. Could she spend the night in his arms, pretending her heart was not breaking? Or would it be easier to make a clean break of it right now?
It did not matter which was worse. She would not be able to keep her countenance for long.
If she sent him away now, at least her memories of their nights together would be untainted by this.
“Then you will need your rest, and I will not distract you from it.” She pretended to muffle a yawn behind her hand.
For a moment, he looked uncertain. “You wish me to go?”
“You seem to have no particular desire to stay,” she retorted. Oh, blast her impulsive tongue! Why could she not have continued to pretend at nonchalance? Her hands clenched into fists, and she tucked them quickly under the counterpane where he would not be able to see them.
“I have no choice!” Was there actually a tiny bit of feeling in there, or was it just her wishful thinking?
“But it does not seem to trouble you, either! No doubt there is some Welsh girl waiting for you at the other end.”
He sucked in a breath. “You think I do not care?” Now there was definitely some tension there.
“If you cared, you would not be so damned calm about leaving!” And she would not apologize for her language.
He squeezed his eyes closed and spread his fingers wide on his thighs, his knuckles white.
Then, slowly, his hands relaxed. And when he spoke, it was in his ordinary unruffled voice.
“I hold the King’s Bond, which means I must remain calm.
Now. Today. Every day. Always. No matter the provocation. Anything else is too dangerous.”
She frowned. “Dangerous to you?” That made no sense.
His shoulders slumped. “No. To those around me.”
“Nonsense! I can think of no one less likely than you to become violent.”
“Not I! At home, the land can react on my behalf, even when I do not wish it,” he snapped. Then, after taking a deep breath, he added, “If you understood what the King's Bond means, you would not accuse me of lacking in feeling.”
She would not let him off that lightly. “Then explain it to me. Land that becomes violent? I think not.”
“It reacts to my moods. That is why I had to learn to control myself, to put anger and irritation aside. It was not easy, and I suffered for it. And now you think I do not care!” As if he could no longer remain still, he stood and crossed to the window, moving the curtain to gaze out into the darkness.
She stared at him in shock. Who was he? Had she ever truly known him? “What would the land do if you became angry?”
He turned to face her, his posture rigid.
“When I was sixteen, and my Bond just awakened, my brother taunted me about something. I do not remember what it was, but it infuriated me. And the earth opened up underneath him, nearly a fathom deep. Thankfully, it cost him nothing more than a twisted ankle and some bruises, but it could have killed him. That should have taught me to control myself, but it did not.” He shook his head at the memory.
“To tell the truth, I liked the power of it. Even though I knew it was wrong.”
“What changed?”
He grimaced. “There was a cruel youth that I despised.
A stream diverted itself and drowned his field, destroying his parents' crops. My father forced me to live as one of his family until I had repaired the damage with my own two hands, without resort to my Talent. It was hard labor and a long, cold, hungry winter. Even hungrier for me than the rest of the family, for I gave part of my tiny share to their youngest daughter, who was sickly and would not have survived otherwise. I saw where Hywel had learned to be malicious and unkind, and I discovered he had another side to him.” His voice filled with self-loathing.
“I was an impulsive boy when I went, but I came home a man, a changed one. Now I listen to people and try to understand them. Because I cannot afford anything else.”
All the reasonableness she had so admired in him, his patience - was it truly something he was forced to maintain?
What would he have been like, had she met him before the King's Bond had taken him over?
Now her heart ached not only for her own loss, but also for the boy he once had been, the one who had given up his own self for his people, all for a throne he would never actually hold.
But she dared not say anything for fear her voice would tremble, or worse, that she would lose her composure completely and cry.
He collapsed into a chair and covered his face with his hands. Even in the candlelight she could make out his effort to breathe slowly and deeply. Was this what he had learned, how to regain control of himself?
If only she had the same power! But she had never been able to do that. Words came out of her mouth, whether she willed them to or not. When she was angry, there was no hiding it. What had it cost him, to learn such strict self-control? Still, she grudgingly admired his restraint.
Even though she was furious with him.
Finally he sighed and dropped his hands.
“I apologize for my loss of control. I should not have said any of that.” It was the same voice she had always thought was gentle, but now she could also hear the emptiness in it, too.
“If you can find it in your heart to forget it all, I would be most grateful.”
Did he not trust her with the information? Likely not; as far as he was concerned, all the English were enemies to Gwynedd. But still it stung. “If you wish, I will ask Quickthorn to put a binding on me so I cannot tell anyone.” But her fury would know no bounds if he accepted her offer.
He shook his head. “If you say you will not repeat it, that is enough. You already hold my life in your hands. Your government would execute me tomorrow if they knew I held the King's Bond.”
She could not argue with that answer, and his admission had somehow dissipated her anger. But she wanted at least a moment of closeness back. Longed for it. Ached for it. She said gently, “You have my word. I would never betray your trust.”
Finally a shadow of a smile crossed his face. “Thank you. And Frederica? If you wish to know whether I meant all the words I whispered to you night after night, just ask me, Truth-caster.”
Her cheeks grew hot. Of course he would not have lied to her – but then again, he had once told her that he could tell when a truth-caster was actively using her abilities. Perhaps he had known it was safe to say whatever would please her.
But those powers worked best when she was angry, so he could not mislead her now. Now she would get the answer she needed. “Do you wish to leave me?” she asked. If he refused to respond, that would be her answer.
“God in heaven, no!” It was heartfelt.
It was not enough. “Do I mean anything to you besides a temporary amusement?”
“So much more. You hold my heart in those lovely little hands of yours. Life without you is going to be an empty shell, and I do not know how I am going to put one foot in front of another. I wish there were any other way.”
It was what she felt, too, though she could not have put the words together. And he was much too far away, even if it was only across the room. She jumped to her feet and half-ran to him. Catching his face between her hands, she told him her feelings in the only way she could.
Their lips caught and held, first just with the desperation of reunion after a quarrel, but the kiss quickly turned into a conflagration. Desire spiraled deep inside her as his tongue explored her mouth. How could she ever give this up?
She drew back just enough to whisper, “Could you not stay a little longer? Even a few days?”
Regret flashed in his dark eyes. “I wish I could, but I have been away too long already. The land is growing restless.”
“What does it mean, the land is restless?”
He studied her for a moment before speaking.
“The King's Bond runs both ways. The land responds to me, but it is also greedy for my presence. When I told you I could not stay in England, that is why. I cannot live anywhere but Gwynedd. It has tolerated my long absence because my father still holds the primary bond. Once I inherit, I will never be able to travel like this again.”
That made no sense. “Our kings, back when they had the King's Bond, went abroad to war. Richard the Lion-Heart was on crusade for years.”
His mouth twisted. “He could do that because his Bond was weak, like all your English kings. Too many interruptions in the family line, too many foreign princesses married in. I was bred for this. My lineage goes back to the sixth century, and almost every man with the Bond has married a woman with ties to our land.”
It was a knife in her chest. The pain made it hard to breathe. So he had to marry a Welshwoman. She had always thought it would be her family that would never accept a marriage to Roderick, but apparently the opposite was true, too. She was English, and that was the end of it. The end of them.
She would not waste their last night together in thinking of that. If this moment was all the time they had, she wanted to make the most of it. “Come here.” She reached up her arms to link them around his neck, memorizing his beloved features, and drew him over to the bed.