Chapter 26 #2
The Great Hall was boisterous tonight. The men from Ashford Hall presented new opportunities for dicing and gambling. Richard’s knights ate with relish, anticipating the aftermath of the hearty meal. Many of them were already deep in their cups, as proved by their coarse language and behavior.
Gwen took a big swallow of wine and set the goblet down before Richard saw her. Her head hummed pleasantly, and her stomach was warm and tingly. She glanced down the table at Anne, her nerves scraping raw when Anne laughed at something someone said.
Gwen slanted a look at Richard. He was angry with her. ’Twas the only explanation for his moodiness. She touched his sleeve. When he turned to her, she was startled by the sudden racing of her heart. How was it he managed to catch her off guard when she was the one who initiated the contact?
The lines of tension in his brow worried her. She reached up to stroke his jaw. “You are beautiful,” she said. It wasn’t what she had wanted to say, but it suddenly seemed the only thing she could think of.
His face softened, then he pressed his lips to her palm. “I have naught but a pretty face. You are the one who is beautiful, both inside and out.”
“’Tis much more than your face that attracts me to you,” she said, swallowing hard.
The look he gave her was intense, full of longing. He traced her lower lip with his thumb. Just when she thought he was about to say something, he shuttered his emotions and a teasing smile spread across his lips.
“What other parts of me are you attracted to, Gwen?”
Gwen took a sip of wine to drown her disappointment. “You are trying to make me blush.”
“Am I succeeding?”
“Not yet.”
“Well in that case, I cannot wait to get you on your back… or mayhap your hands and knees.”
Gwen smiled. He was not going to win this one. She pulled his head down and whispered in his ear. “I will fuck you any way you wish, my lord.”
He shuddered. His voice was a raspy growl when he spoke. “God’s blood, you make me harder than all of the marble in Westminster Abbey.”
“Really? Let me see.” Gwen slipped her hand beneath the table and slid it up his thigh. His eyes glittered as she found him. “Oh yes, ’tis big and hard,” she said, rubbing her hand along his length.
“Keep doing that, wench, and there will be no need for lovemaking this night.”
“Then let us go up now.” Touching him, feeling the proof of his desire, sent liquid heat surging in her veins, pooling where she burned hottest.
“We have guests. ’Twould be rude to leave before dessert is served.”
“I have dessert for you, my lord.”
His gaze lingered on her breasts, then dipped down to the juncture of her thighs. “Aye, that you do. And I’ll wager you taste sweeter than any of Oliver’s confectionary monstrosities. Of course I will need to do extensive tasting to be sure…”
Gwen sucked in her breath when he touched her earlobe with the tip of his tongue.
“Did you know ’tis possible to come without even being touched down there? No? Well, ’tis. I’d love to make you so hot for me that you—”
The outer doors swung open and men rushed into the hall crying, “Milord!”
Richard shot to his feet.
A man dressed in a thick wool tunic and cloak ran to the dais and gripped the edge of the table.
“My lord earl,” he panted. “Signal fires. To the south. Village attacked. Welshmen.”
“To arms!” Richard cried to the now quiet hall.
“Nay!” Gwen yelled at the same time, jumping to her feet.
But Richard did not hear, or if he did, he ignored her. He leaped over the table and ran for the door, not once looking back. The hall emptied behind him as the knights raced for their horses and armor.
Gwen started after him. Owain grabbed her arm, pulling her up short. “Come, milady. I will take you to your chamber.”
Gwen turned to him, her heart racing. “Nay! I must see him before he goes!” Richard couldn’t leave without saying goodbye! What if—?
“He will not have time, milady. ’Tis not unusual for this to happen. He will return in a day or two, never fear.”
Gwen tore away from Owain and ran for the bailey. Richard was facing Welshmen, and Welshmen carried longbows. She remembered the unholy horror of seeing a wooden haft protruding from steel. It defied logic, and yet it had happened.
She clutched her skirts and raced down the stairs of the forebuilding and out into the snow-covered bailey.
Confusion reigned. Men shouted to each other across the yard. Horses were hurriedly saddled and led from the stables. Young grooms held them ready until the knights were armored.
Torches illuminated the figures of the men, casting huge shadows against the stone walls of the castle. Squires worked frantically, throwing hauberks and coifs on the knights. Nimble fingers buckled and cinched like lightning.
Gwen ran between the warhorses, dodging hooves and teeth. She didn’t stop until she found Sirocco’s gleaming black hide. A groom fitted the crimson and black trapper lined with hardened leather over the stallion and cinched it in place.
Richard stood beside the horse while his squire buckled his coif. Torchlight rippled across his hauberk as he turned to her, the shiny metal glittering like the iridescent scales of a sea monster.
“Holy Christ! What the hell are you doing out here, Gwen? Get back inside before you get hurt.”
“Richard—you must be careful—I—”
“Get inside. Now, woman!”
Wiry arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her backwards. “I’m sorry, milord,” Owain said. “She got away from me.”
“By all that’s holy, get her out of here!” Richard grated from between clenched teeth. His gaze held hers for an instant before he turned his head.
“No!” Gwen began to fight, kicking and twisting in Owain’s grasp. Despite his age, Owain was strong and his grip on her was tight. She could not escape. “Richard!”
The squire finished and stepped back. Richard glanced at her a last time, then turned to mount.
Gwen clawed at Owain’s arms. Richard was leaving and she might never see him again. She pictured him lying limp across Sirocco’s back, an arrow protruding from his chest. Her breath broke on a sob.
“Richard!” she cried. “Richard!”
He stiffened, gathering his reins and ignoring her.
“Oh God—Richard—I love you!”
She slumped against Owain. There was no time to consider the implications of her confession. All she knew was if something happened to Richard, her life would be useless and empty. She couldn’t let him leave without knowing it.
She heard the swift intake of his breath as he turned around. Owain let her go. She flung herself into Richard’s arms. He crushed her to him, kissing her fiercely.
She loved him, loved his smile, his eyes, his mouth, the way his hair felt between her fingers.
She loved the things he did to her, the silky glide of his voice when he whispered wicked things in the privacy of their bed.
She loved him. He was hers, had been hers since the first moment she’d seen him at Rhuddlan castle.
She wound her arms around his neck, sobbing. A steel barrier stood between them. He was shielded from her, and she didn’t think she could bear it.
“Richard… oh, Richard…”
He reached up to caress her cheek and could not. His hand hovered, then dropped. Even they were encased in chainmail. He gave an agonized groan, then tried to push her away.
“You must go in now,” he said, his voice soft, almost pleading. “I will return soon, cariad, I promise.”
“No,” she said, clinging to him. “No. You cannot leave me.”
Richard pulled her arms from his neck and pushed her away, motioning for Owain to take her. “I must, Gwen.”
Owain’s strong hand wrapped around her arm. She stood, stubbornly refusing to move. Wasn’t he going to say anything else?
“Do not make this any harder on him,” Owain whispered in her ear. “Come.”
Gwen brushed at the tears spilling down her cheeks. She let Owain escort her through the bailey to the castle stairs. She walked slowly, glancing over her shoulder at Richard every few steps. He stared at her for a minute, then turned and swung into the saddle. He did not look back again.
Sirocco danced and pawed, throwing snow from his large hooves. When all the knights were mounted, Richard gave the signal and they trotted out the now open gates of Claiborne castle, disappearing into the night.
Gwen broke away from Owain and ran all the way to the master chamber, ignoring the startled looks of the servants she passed.
She burst through the door and ran to the window. Pressing her face against the glass, she watched the torches move through the valley until they faded from sight.
Gwen sank into the windowseat, sobbing anew.
God in Heaven, she was in love with Black Hawk de Claiborne.