Chapter 41
The first days of June were splendid. The sun commanded the sky, standing bright and pure in a sea of blue. Woolly clouds sailed across the horizon, their shapes fantastical and ordinary at the same time.
The castle gardens were ablaze with color: roses, violets, herbs, pears, apples, and a variety of vegetables grew in profusion. Along one wall, grapevines twisted and trailed, stretching emerald-hued leaves to the sun.
Gwen and Alys lounged on a blanket thrown across a shady patch of grass. A light repast of cold meat and fruit sat to one side, and a flagon of wine cooled in a bucket of water.
William crawled between the women, giggling and gurgling. Gwen thought her baby resembled his father more and more each day. He had downy-soft skin, wide green eyes fringed with thick lashes, and a head of unruly black ringlets.
Already big for his eight and a half months, he promised to be tall and broad, just like Richard. He was a happy baby, though mayhap a bit spoiled. He was always ready with a saucy smile, only crying when he didn’t get his way.
Gwen sighed. Unfortunately, he was rarely denied. She just couldn’t bring herself to refuse him when he turned those wide eyes and that smile that was so much like his father’s on her. And she wasn’t the only one.
Owain strode down the path toward them, clutching a ball Alys had made by sewing stout wool together and stuffing it with straw.
“I found it,” he said, dropping onto the blanket beside Alys. He gave her a quick peck. “William, lookee what Uncle Owain has.”
William held out his chubby little hand and said as imperiously as possible for a baby, “Geem.”
Owain rolled the ball, shaking his head when William latched onto it and wouldn’t let go. “Just like his father, he is. Demanding, even before he understands the meaning of the word.”
Gwen laughed, though inside she ached. She’d thought it would grow duller as time passed, but it had not.
Seven months ago, Richard had kissed her and left her on the road to Claiborne. She’d had occasional messages from him, and she’d sent him dozens, but they were a poor substitute for being with him.
A mist of tears clouded her vision as she watched her son play with Owain. Richard had missed so much, so much.
The first few weeks without him had been hard. She’d kept expecting him to return at any time, but as the days wore on she’d given up.
Rhys was gone too. Shortly after their arrival, he’d gone to Lydford manor to be Richard’s castellan. He visited occasionally, but the last time was over a month ago. He seemed happy enough, though sometimes he was wistful when they talked of her father.
Alys popped a piece of cold venison in her mouth and Gwen smiled to herself. The woman had been so thin when they’d returned. She’d worn herself down with worry, and it had taken a long time for her to regain her appetite. Fortunately, she had her plump figure back.
Owain was devoted to her, and she to him. Since Owain’s return, the love they shared was out in the open. Owain wanted to marry Alys, but they had decided to wait for Richard. They felt it only fair he share in the happiness as well.
William crawled into Alys’s lap. She hugged him, though he protested when it lasted too long. Owain picked him up and held him high above his head. William screamed with delight.
A bee buzzed past Gwen’s ear. She swatted at it absently, her gaze drifting across the garden. She caught a flash of crimson and silver through the trees, but she dismissed it as fancy. She wanted Richard home so much that she was imagining armored men walking through the garden.
It could not be him, however, because they’d had no message he was returning. But then she saw him. He stopped at the end of the path and watched the little group on the blanket. Her heart began to pound until she felt too weak to move.
“Richard…” she whispered. He strode toward them, larger than life, more magnificent than ever.
Owain’s face split in a grin. Alys’s eyes widened as she took William from him. “You knew, you sly devil!”
Owain stood. “Aye, sweetling, I knew he was here. He wouldn’t let me tell you.”
“You have done well, uncle,” Richard said, his eyes on Gwen. She found the strength to stand, though she could not move her feet once she’d done so.
He was handsomer than she remembered. Taller too. His broad shoulders and chest were covered in chainmail, but his coif was pushed back to reveal midnight hair. It was longer than she recalled, curling at his nape, and she ached to run her fingers through its silkiness.
He stopped in front of Alys, who had stood and was holding William. His jaw slackened as he stared at his son, and Gwen knew he was thinking what she had thought only moments ago.
The baby’s eyes were wide, his head tilting back at an uncomfortable-looking angle as he stared up at his father. After studying the metal-clad giant for a long moment, he stretched out his arm and said, “Geem.”
Gwen, Alys, and Owain laughed. Richard looked at Gwen, his brows drawn together, his beautiful mouth curved in a half-smile. He seemed confused and, if she dared say it, a little frightened. “What does he want?”
Gwen picked up the forgotten ball and held it out. “Give him this,” she said softly.
Richard took it, his fingers brushing hers. Tendrils of fire blazed to life within her. Already, she burned for him. Oh God, how she burned for him!
He gave the ball to his son, who clutched it happily. Richard’s finger caressed William’s tiny cheek while the baby tried to chew his prize. He promptly dropped the ball and clamped onto the large hand in front of him.
Richard looked surprised at first. A broad smile spread across his features as William started chewing his finger. “He is perfect,” he murmured.
William promptly tired of his father’s finger and grabbed Alys’s tunic instead. Richard touched the black curls of his son’s hair, his eyes straying back to Gwen.
She heard Owain clear his throat, heard Alys mumble something about taking William in for his nap. When they were gone, she just stood, staring at her husband.
“I have missed you,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears of happiness and relief.
“Show me,” he replied, his voice husky as he held out his hand. Gwen took it. Such a light contact, yet it burned through her, scorched her to the depths of her soul. With a little cry, she threw herself into his embrace, winding her arms around his neck, meeting the fierce hunger of his mouth.
He broke the kiss with a groan. “Jesú, Gwen, ‘tis been so long, so long…” His hand strayed to her headcovering. He tugged gently, loosing her hair from its confinement. “’Tis plaited,” he said in disbelief.
She laughed. “Aye, ’tis impossible to wear it loose with a baby around. He likes to pull it.” Her fingers tangled in his nape. “Yours is longer than it used to be.”
“Yes,” he said, his mouth dipping to hers once again.
Gwen sighed. Dear God, it was like suddenly finding the way home again after being lost for untold ages. She was powerless to stop the tears slipping down her cheeks.
He lowered her to the blanket, then propped himself on an elbow, his finger tracing her kiss-swollen lips. “Why do you cry, Gwen?”
She wound her arms around his neck and pushed him back until she was lying full length on top of him. “Because I missed you, you wool-headed lout!” She framed his face between her hands and kissed him hungrily.
When they’d caught their breath, he said, “Careful, love. Such flattery might swell my head, make me insufferable.”
“You are already that,” Gwen teased.
Richard laughed. “Jesú, wench, can you not humor me a bit? Tell me how wonderful I am, how you have craved my company these months past?”
Gwen stroked his jaw, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “You cannot know how much I craved you, what I would have given to be with you again.”
Richard rolled her onto her back and cupped the soft swell of a breast. “Can I not?” he asked softly.
Gwen’s breath caught as his fingers brushed her nipple through the fabric.
“Are you hot for me?” he whispered, his hand sliding under her skirts. “Do you need me as much as I need you?”
Gwen whimpered when his fingers found the wet evidence of her need for him. She met his smoldering gaze, gasping as he stroked her. “Richard . . .”
“Sweet heaven, you are lucky I am armored,” he said fervently. “I have never been so long without a woman in my life.”
His fingers slid over her, then in and out of her body so quickly she couldn’t think, much less speak. She clutched him, crying out as the tension built and shattered. He kissed her brow, her cheeks, her lips.
“I will die if I do not see you,” he said, untying the laces of her gown.
She grabbed his hand. “Nay! We are outside! Anyone could come out here and see us.”
“Think you there is a soul in that castle who knows not what the lord and lady do in the garden? None will disturb us, I assure you.”
“You are outrageous,” Gwen said, loosening her grip.
He smiled. “Keep flattering me, my love.”
She wasn’t really afraid anyone would see them. She was afraid he would not like what he saw. She’d regained her slender figure almost immediately, but the small scars across her midsection had not disappeared. They weren’t very noticeable usually, but in this light they would be unmistakable.
She held her breath when he lifted off her chemise.
“Oh God,” he said, closing his eyes.
Gwen snatched the garment from his hands, hurt and anger like a dagger to her heart. “I am sorry if I do not please you anymore, my lord.”
“What?” he said distractedly.
She clutched the chemise to her, hiding her flawed body from his hot stare. When he tried to tug it away, she held tight. “Nay, I would not have you suffer to look at me again.”
“I am fine now,” he said. “The sight just caught me by surprise.”
“You are such a beast!” Gwen cried. God, were all men so insensitive? The most infuriating part was that he had to be so brutally honest. And he wanted her to flatter him! She wanted to box his ears.
“Huh?”
“Turn around so I can dress.”