Chapter 29
Gwen dreamed. She dreamed of a cave and a man who eased her back on the cool ground and worshipped her body with his. It was summer and the scent of wild roses drifted in on a soft breeze, penetrating the depths of the glittering cave.
Her gown slipped away and her flesh burned beneath his seeking mouth. Ah God, she wanted to touch him too! Her hands roamed over him, her mouth savoring every inch of delicious skin. She kissed the scar on his side and he shuddered.
“I love you,” he whispered, and her heart swelled to bursting. Life had never been so perfect.
Next, she was standing in the middle of a long room. Her father stood at one end, Richard at the other. King Edward sat on a throne in front of her. He lifted his hand.
“Choose,” he said.
Horror gripped her with icy tentacles. “I-I cannot!”
“One of them will die.”
She fell to her knees. “Please, Majesty…”
“If you do not choose, they will both die.”
She looked at Richard, then at her father. But her father was not alone. Einion and Rhys stood with him.
Edward merely shrugged. “Choose,” he commanded. “Him, or them.”
The Welshmen kept multiplying. Richard remained alone. Gwen ran toward Richard, then stopped. She turned and ran toward her father and Wales, then stopped. She started to shake, and tears streamed down her face.
She could not choose.
She screamed.
And sat bolt upright in bed. Owain hovered over her, his face pale. “Is he…?”
Gwen touched Richard’s brow. Owain frowned when she started to laugh. “Nay, he is cooler now. Oh Owain, he is cooler!”
A smile spread over Owain’s haggard face. “He is too stubborn to die over something so minor. ’Twould have to be a sword thrust to the heart, not a dagger wound to the side.”
Gwen ran her hands over Richard’s body, reassuring herself the fever had indeed broken. If anything, he was sweating more than before, but it was a different kind of sweat. Cooler, as though the fever was pouring itself out of his body now that its course was run.
Owain returned to his pallet.
Gwen stroked Richard’s jaw. The images of the dream still haunted her, and she shivered.
Choose.
She pressed closer to him. It was only a dream. They didn’t always have meaning.
When Richard opened his eyes, he was surprised to realize it was daylight and he was still in bed. He started to get up, but the dull ache in his side forced him back down.
He stared up at the canopy, and remembered.
Gwen didn’t trust him, thought him capable of horrible things. He eased up and looked around. She wasn’t even here.
Despite the ache, he swung his legs off the bed and sat up. Someone had stitched him. It wasn’t Sir Henry’s handiwork. The stitches were too small and neat.
He stood and went searching for his tunic. A gasp in the doorway brought his head around.
His heart quickened a little, and it angered him.
He’d sworn his fidelity on bended knee, shared things with her that he’d never shared with anyone.
Despite all that, she believed the tales she’d been raised on in her father’s hall.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded more harshly than he intended.
“You must get back in bed, my lord. You’ll rip the stitches,” she said, coming to him, her hands twisting the edges of her gown.
Richard closed his eyes. Roses, goddamn roses! He wanted to pull her against him and bury his face in her hair. “Don’t you have some sewing to do? Or some menus to plan?”
“Nay,” Gwen said quietly.
Her hand settled on his arm, and he thought he might come undone. He stiffened, and she snatched her hand back.
Tears shimmered in her golden-green eyes. “Please get back in bed, Richard. I will bring you something to eat.”
“I have things to do, Gwen.” His inner demon refused to be silenced. “After all, there are prisoners to torture.”
Just for an instant, her eyes widened. She quickly recovered, but he didn’t miss the fact she’d actually believed it, if only for a second.
Overwhelmed by bitterness, Richard turned his back. He knew it was a stupid thing to say. He found his tunic and struggled to get into it. When he felt her hands on him, he stopped.
“Let me help you,” she said.
He stood very still while she dressed him. Every second was more unbearable than the last. All he wanted was to hold her. Just when he thought he would crack, she stepped away.
“Please be careful, Richard. I don’t want you ripping those stitches. I don’t think I could do as good a job the second time around.”
His hand strayed to his side. “You did this?”
“Aye.”
“Thank you for tending me,” he said softly.
“’Tis a wife’s duty, my lord,” she replied, equally as soft.
Richard stiffened. “Duty. Of course. No other reason needed.” Had he only imagined what happened in the bailey on the night he’d ridden out? Certes, it was possible, considering what had occurred since.
He was almost to the door when she called to him. “I feared for you,” she said tearfully.
“Why?” he demanded. “Why, when you think me so terrible? Wouldn’t it be easier if I had never come back?”
“Nay! How can you say that?” she cried, running to him and cupping his face between her hands. She pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his. He didn’t want to, but he responded, kissing her with a desperation that frightened him.
“God, I’m sorry, Richard. I did not mean to doubt you. I know you are not capable of the things said of you. ’Twas stupid of me.”
Something within him twisted and snapped. He grasped her wrists and pulled her hands away. He couldn’t bear to have her say such things, then look at him like he was the devil himself when she found out his true nature. He wouldn’t wait for her to learn just exactly what he was capable of.
“Nay, Gwen, I am capable of great cruelty.”
Her eyes widened. He pulled her tighter against him, wanting to feel her soft curves molded to his body. Her lips parted. All his muscles locked in an effort to keep from kissing her again.
“Do you want to know how much?” he demanded. “Do you want to know what kind of man I am?”
“I—”
“I’ve never told you about Elizabeth, though I daresay you’ve heard of her.” Her mouth closed and she nodded mutely. “I abandoned her, Gwen. I left her to have our babe alone, though she begged me not to go. I knew she was frightened and I left anyway.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I am sorry. You must have loved her very much.”
Richard threw his head back. “Don’t you understand? I loved her not at all! ’Tis my fault she died. ’Tis my punishment for not caring enough.”
“Nay,” she whispered, shaking her head.
“Yes, Gwen, yes! I am everything you thought I was, and worse, much worse.”
She searched his face, then swallowed. “You did what your king commanded. You cannot be blamed for going when he called you.”
He let her go and walked away. He sank onto the edge of the bed and pushed his hands through his hair.
His bitter laughter broke the silence. “Is that what you think? Edward cannot be kept from Eleanor’s side when she gives birth.
He would not have prevented me from doing the same, especially since Kenilworth is only a few days ride from Claiborne.
Nay, wife, ’twas my own cold-heartedness that kept me away. ”
Gwen couldn’t speak. He watched her expectantly. She whirled around and went to the window. Her heart was throbbing madly in denial. It wasn’t supposed to be like this!
There were so many things she wanted to say, but a lifetime of guarding her emotions was a hard habit to break. No one had ever had the kind of power to hurt her that Richard had. She didn’t think she could bear telling him she loved him again and not have him say it in return.
She heard him get up. Every instinct she had told her to go to him, to tell him what she felt. But her body remained motionless, frozen in place, while her mind raced, searching for ways to avoid exposing herself to the pain of rejection.
She prayed he would come to her, wrap his arms around her, tell her everything would be all right again. But his footsteps didn’t advance. They retreated.
Richard leaned against the wall of the passage. He put his hand to his side and winced. It was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside.
What had he done? Why had he told her about Elizabeth?
After a moment, he shoved away and strode to the hall. If Gwen had ever thought she loved him, he’d certainly killed it now.
And it was best that way. He cared too much for her. It had to stop before she abandoned him to face it alone.
“Jesú, Richard, you should not be up yet,” Owain scolded, bringing him up short. The Welshman’s expression grew wary. “What has happened?”
“Nothing, Ewythr. Nothing at all,” Richard said smoothly, though his throat ached.
Owain’s eyes darted around the room. “What is the matter with you?” he hissed.
Richard was not in a cautious mood. The only person within earshot was one of the knights in Anne’s household and it was highly improbable he understood Welsh. “Leave me be, old man.”
Owain’s face reddened. “I don’t know what is going on between you and your wife, but there is one thing I do know.”
“And what is that, pray tell?” Richard asked, more out of obligation than interest.
“You are a bloody, arrogant fool.”
Richard walked away. He didn’t need this right now. But Owain followed. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”
Richard stopped and turned around. “How would you know what I feel?”
Owain stuck a finger in Richard’s chest. “Because I’ve been with you since you were a babe! Just tell her you love her and get it over with.”
“I do not love her. I cannot,” he growled.
Owain snorted. “Stupid whelp! How many chances do you think you get, boy? Take it while you got it.”
“You overstep your bounds, Ewythr.”
Owain’s grey eyes glittered. “Not nearly enough, Nai, not nearly enough.”
Richard started to walk away.
“And one other thing,” Owain called. “I’m going with you to London.”
Richard stopped, incredulous. “You vowed you would never go there! Why now?”
Owain flushed. “Because I want to, that’s why! And don’t think to try and stop me either.”