Chapter 25 #2
His hand found hers. “I am here, love. I won’t leave you. Hold on to my mantle while I light a torch.”
Gwen gathered a fistful of cloth, pressing herself tight against his back.
Long seconds passed, and then light suddenly flooded the cavern. Gwen gasped. A thousand—no!—a million shards of multi-colored light were reflected from the mirror-like surface of the walls.
“’Tis beautiful, is it not?” Richard stabbed the torch into the soft ground. “I found it when I was a boy. I used to come here often, searching for King Arthur’s treasure.”
“Rhys and I used to search for the treasure!”
“Do not say that name to me,” he said quickly. “Not now, not here.”
“I’m sorry. I did not mean—”
“Shhh,” he said, slipping the hood from her head and entwining his fingers in the silken waterfall of her hair, “not now, cariad.” He looked at her for a long moment. “I think I have finally found a treasure,” he murmured before kissing her.
Gwen melted against him, lost in his embrace. Nothing else existed outside of here and now. So much for loyalties and heirs and dead wives. She was hopelessly trapped in the spell he wove.
“Would that it were summer,” he said in her ear.
She clawed her way back to sanity. “Why? Surely it looks the same no matter what time of year.”
“Nay, ’twould look a thousand times better if I could undress you and make love to you beneath these sparkling walls.”
“Wh-what makes it look like this?” she asked, stepping away from him.
He shrugged. “’Tis crystal. It shines so when reflected.”
“Oh,” she said, spinning around and staring at the ceiling. She twirled until she was almost dizzy and the brilliant lights merged into one streak of color.
“Gwen.”
She stopped, her gown swirling around her. His voice was so raw, so naked. The look on his face frightened her.
“Richard?” She took a step toward him, her heart pounding, her vision still swimming.
“Sweet Christ, if ever I were to see a fairy princess, she would look just like you.” He crossed the distance between them and molded her to him, cupping her cheeks and tilting her face up to his.
His look was unguarded for once, his eyes mirroring some turmoil within.
“Fairies have a nasty habit of abandoning their mortal lovers. Say you won’t abandon me, Gwen. ”
“Nay, Richard, never,” she replied, and meant it.
He kissed her possessively. Gwen buried her fingers in his hair, lost herself in the silken heat of his mouth. She wanted to be as close as it was possible to be, wanted him to touch her deep inside, wanted to feel their hearts beating as one.
She wanted to remember this moment forever.
“Take me, Richard. Now, here,” she breathed against his lips.
And then he was pressing her against the wall, shifting their clothes, fitting his body to hers, sheathing himself within her moist heat. Dear God, never had she felt more alive than when this man made love to her. It was more than physical, more than man and woman.
She needed him. Needed him in order to breathe, to live. She tightened her legs around him, met his mouth ravenously.
After they’d exploded together and drifted back to earth, Richard held her against him, his breath heavy in her ear. “I have no control when I’m with you.”
“I like you uncontrolled,” Gwen whispered, easing her legs down his body until she was once again standing.
“I’ve never shown this place to anyone,” he said. “You are the first.”
“I’m glad you shared it with me. ’Tis beautiful.”
“Aye, ’tis one of the few treasures of my heart.” He traced her cheek with a finger. “We will come again in summer, when we can linger.”
“I will look forward to it,” Gwen replied, slipping her hand into his as they left the shelter of the cave.
The men rejoined them at the edge of the woods and they rode back the way they’d come.
Claiborne castle sat on its formidable perch, cowering the valley into meek submission. Gwen was surprised to feel a sense of belonging, of home. Where once the sight of Claiborne had made her cringe, she now thought it perhaps the most beautiful castle in all of Wales and England.
They passed into the village and up the steep slope to the castle. As they rode into the bailey, Gwen leaned over her mare’s neck, petting her and speaking words of praise for a pleasant ride.
When she looked up again, there was a large party of newcomers milling around the inner bailey.
Her heart plummeted to her feet. In the party’s midst, a lady with blonde hair sat atop a white horse.
Her gaze flickered over Gwen, then landed on Richard.
The smile she gave him said, I’ve missed you, lover.
“What the hell are you doing here, Anne?” Richard bit out.
“Now is that any way to greet an old friend?” Anne said, her lips pursed in a ridiculous pout as she rode forward to meet them. She swept her hand toward her party. “It seems as though you have forgotten your duty to my son, my lord. I have brought him to begin his training.”
Richard’s voice could have cut through steel. “I’ve forgotten nothing. I will send for him in the spring when the snows thaw. You may return to Ashford Hall first thing tomorrow.”
Anne opened her mouth to protest, but a boy rushed forward then, his face lit with admiration and awe.
“Greetings my Lord De Claiborne! ’Tis been a long time since you have been to see us, but Mama said you wouldn’t mind if we came to Claiborne instead. I’ve been looking forward to learning to be a squire. I promise to study very hard.”
He broke off, looked up at his mother, then at Richard. Gwen had a difficult time reconciling the fact that this boy was Anne’s son. She hardly seemed the motherly type, but the boy’s face shone equally for her and Richard.
“You’ve grown, Tristan. I am certain you will make a fine squire,” Richard said. “In the spring—”
Gwen tugged Richard’s sleeve. For some strange reason, she couldn’t bear to see Tristan disappointed.
Richard turned, the annoyance on his face softening only slightly.
Lowering her voice, she said, “You cannot send the boy home, my lord. He’s waited too long, and ’twould break his heart if you sent him away now. ”
“He will begin in the spring. He can wait that long.”
Gwen shook her head. “Nay, he cannot. Richard, please.”
His hand closed over hers. “Why do you care so much, cariad?”
“I—” She glanced at the boy. “I do not know, exactly, but mayhap ’tis because I know what it feels like to be disappointed.”
His expression grew distant. “Disappointed because you had to marry me instead of the man you really loved.”
Gwen gripped his hand as though her life depended on it. “Nay, I’ve never loved any man—”
But you.
She bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly confused by the emotions inundating her.
He waited, his eyes flickering over her face. When she said nothing more, he sighed. “For you then.” Turning back to the boy, he said, “I believe my captain’s squire is soon to be made a knight. You will begin training to be Sir Andrew of Carrick’s squire.”
“Thank you, my lord!” Tristan cried, his face breaking into a wide grin.
Anne’s gaze went from her son to Richard to Gwen. Her eyes narrowed for only a second. Gwen returned her stare evenly. “We are pleased to offer you lodging, Lady Ashford, until you can begin your return journey. I will have Alys find a room for you.”
“Thank you, Lady de Claiborne, but I shan’t be returning to Ashford Hall. I wish to accompany you and Lord de Claiborne to London for the Christmas festivites.”
Gwen felt insane panic rise in her stomach. She turned to Richard, waiting—praying—for him to say no.
He didn’t acknowledge her. “You are welcome to travel with us, Lady Ashford,” he said politely, all traces of his anger gone.
Gwen’s heart split in two.