Castle of the Heart (11 page)

The tall monk went out, followed by Guy.

“I’ll join them,” Thomas said to Selene.
“There are some formalities to discuss with the prior, and I want
to be there. From this time on, Reynaud is no longer a member of
this particular religious community, but is a guest as we are. He’s
in our care now. Meredith will make him well. Help her as much as
you can, my love.” Thomas left her wondering what to do next.

“Come and help us, Selene.” Meredith wiped
away her tears and began to unwind the bandages around Reynaud’s
head. “We’ll cleanse his wounds first. I’ve brought an ointment to
put on them, to take away the pain and inflammation, and then we’ll
re-bandage him with clean linen. That’s all I can do until we reach
Afoncaer and my other supplies. The medicines I brought with me
were almost all used up on Guy’s men-at-arms and their minor
injuries during the trip. I’m afraid there is a hard journey ahead
for you, Reynaud. Perhaps the infirmarer here has some poppy syrup
that would ease the discomfort you are sure to feel.”

“No,” Reynaud said, his one eye on Meredith’s
intent face, his lips drawn tight with pain as she carefully eased
the last of the linen off his nose and left cheek. “When I was
first injured, Brother Infirmarer gave me that poppy syrup. It did
help the pain, but it was all too tempting to ask for it again and
again, so I could sink into the oblivion it offers. I’ll not take
that way. I can bear a few twinges and aches for the sake of
reaching Afoncaer once more.”

“I think you will have more than aches and
twinges, Master Reynaud.” That was Arianna, her face pale and set
into severe lines of determination, her grey eyes dark with pity as
she watched Meredith’s hands slowly uncovering the architect’s
battered face. There was a wide gash extending from his right
forehead across his nose and left cheekbone, and all the area
around his left eye was hugely swollen.

“I can’t open it,” Reynaud said in answer to
Meredith’s question. “The swelling won’t go down, and Brother
Infirmarer thinks I will never recover use of that eye.”

“I’m not sure,” Meredith said, her fingers
probing very gently. When Reynaud winced, she stopped her
examination. “I can’t tell for certain, Reynaud, but it may be that
with the medicines I have at Afoncaer, I will be able to help your
sight. Arianna, wash his face carefully while I get rid of this
dirty linen. Selene, you may help with the ointment. You can learn,
too.”

“No. No, I can’t.” Selene stared at Reynaud’s
broken, discolored face and tried to choke back the bile that rose
into her throat at the thought of touching that awful wound. “I
can’t. Don’t ask me. I can’t stay here.” She fumbled for the door
latch, found it, and tore it open. She nearly fell through the
doorway in her haste to be gone from the room, with its heavy odor
of sickness and infected flesh.

The drafty air of the passageway outside
Reynaud’s door fanned across her hot, perspiring face, cooling and
calming her a little. Selene took a deep breath. She knew she was
going to be sick. It was always that way whenever she had to look
at something bloody or unpleasant. She hurried toward her room,
hoping she would reach it in time. The passage was so dark and
gloomy it was frightening.

Selene broke into a run, turned a corner she
did not remember passing before, and flew straight into Thomas’s
arms. She did not recognize him at first. She gave a gasp of
terror, reared back her head, and then saw who it was. His features
were just discernible in the dim light. She clutched at him,
catching his leather sleeves in fingers made strong by fear and
horror.

“Thomas, don’t make me stay there. Don’t make
me touch him. I can’t do it. Please, please.” Thomas’s astonished
face spun before her, the passageway blurred into total blackness,
and Selene felt her knees buckling. There was a great roaring in
her ears that blocked out all sound.

Then strong arms lifted her, and her head
rested on her husband’s broad, leather-clad shoulder. She kept her
eyes closed while he carried her back to the chamber door she had
passed unknowing in her panic-stricken flight. Selene opened her
eyes to candlelight as Thomas laid her down on the bed, then
removed her veil and loosened the tight coils of her raven-black
hair.

“You may go,” Thomas said to the maidservants
who had been unpacking and now stood about the room, staring at
him. “My lady has fainted. I’ll stay with her until she’s herself
again. Just give me some wine for her, and then go and eat. There’s
food set out for you in the guest hall.”

Thomas held the wine cup to Selene’s pale
lips. When the maids had all left he latched the door and came to
sit on the bed beside her once more. She was weeping, and he
smoothed back her disordered hair and wiped away the tears.

“My dearest,” he said softly, kissing her
forehead and then her quivering lips.

“Thomas, please.” She touched his face with a
shaky hand. “Don’t make me go back there.”

“To Reynaud? Why should he frighten you?”

“It’s not Reynaud. Not him alone. I can’t
stand the sight of blood, or of wounds. I never could. It makes me
ill. Arianna is strong, she can help Meredith, but I can’t.”

Thomas gathered her into his arms, holding
her and rocking her as though she were a hurt, frightened child.
Indeed, she was so small and fragile that she might have been a
child, and at first his feelings were an odd combination of
paternal tenderness and disappointment. She had displayed a
weakness most unbecoming in a woman who one day would be the
mistress of a castle and who might, in the future, have to assume
sole responsibility for the care of those wounded in defending that
castle.

Ah, well, he told himself with a sigh, she
was still young. She would have plenty of time to lose this
peculiar fear of hers. Meredith would help in that. Meanwhile, they
were alone together for the first time in too many days, and he had
missed their nightly lovemaking. She was clinging to him and
nestling her head beneath his chin while his one hand stroked her
undone hair and his other arm and hand pressed her closer against
him. Thomas felt the heat in his loins, felt his manhood growing in
response to her nearness. His lips brushed across her cheek, and
the hand that had been stroking her hair lifted her chin until
their mouths met. Thomas tasted the salt of her tears on her lips,
along with the sweetness that only Selene brought to him.

“Oh, my love,” he breathed, and put his mouth
on hers again and moved his hand downward to cup a small, firm
breast. She moaned, and he felt the nipple harden beneath her fine
woolen gown. His hand moved further, catching her hips and pushing
them against his own as he pressed her down onto the bed and rolled
on top of her, letting her feel his need, sensing her initial
hesitation and then the sudden flare of her desire. She had been
like that each time they made love. First refusal, then wild
passion.

“Thomas, Thomas,” she murmured, moving her
head back on the pillows, her emerald eyes bright with yet unshed
tears, her lips parted softly, her tongue poised to do battle with
his own. ‘Thomas. You do love me, don’t you?”

“More than my life.”

Her hands pulled his head down toward hers,
the small pink tongue reached out and captured his lips, playing
with him, tormenting him until at last she ground her mouth against
his and her tongue surged into him, attacking the hot moistness,
demanding his response. He could not get enough of her mouth. He
returned to it again and again, hungrily craving the excitement of
that moist, welcoming warmth, until even that was not enough, and
he knew her mounting passion was as great as his own.

He fumbled at his clothing, pulling up his
leather tunic, tugging at the thongs that held his hose, Selene
helping him eagerly, her fingers grasping, greedy, rubbing on him,
bringing him to a point of intense, painful need. Then she let him
go, and lifted her skirts, or tried to. Her dress had become
tangled around her legs and she could not get free of it. She
twisted and turned and lifted her hips, pulling at the fabric, her
body brushing against his repeatedly during her struggles, further
inflaming him, while Thomas tried to help her with clumsy,
over-eager hands. Both of them were aware that someone might come
to the chamber door at any moment, but they could not wait, they
had to come together, they were desperate with wanting each other,
and no matter what happened they could not stop now.

“Hurry, hurry,” she moaned, finally dragging
both skirt and underdress up to her waist. Thomas had a hasty
glimpse of green leather shoes, of stockings held at the knee with
blue ribbon garters, and above the stockings the smooth, creamy
skin of her thighs, opening to him, inviting him. “Thomas, please
hurry. I burn. I burn. Ah, there, like that. I thought we’d never –
never – oh, Thomas, Thomas!”

She raised herself to meet his every stroke,
taking him deeply within her, crying out in pleasure, and Thomas,
his senses raised to feverish heat by her response, felt as though
he was floating on the tide of her desire. He was lost in her, he
loved her completely, he had never imagined a woman could be so
exciting. She was everything he had ever wanted, and he gave
himself to her totally, plunging into her sweet body again and
again until she had had her fill of him and he was free to take his
own pleasure, gasping out his love of her, his adoration, then at
last coming to a peaceful rest across her now quiet form.

She was weeping again. She did that often
after they made love, and Thomas had by now given up the fear that
he hurt her in some physical way. It puzzled him. He did not want
her to be unhappy.

“It wasn’t me,” Selene whispered. “It was the
other one, the demon. It wasn’t me.”

“My sweet love, what are you talking about?”
Thomas raised himself on one elbow to look at her. She seemed to
him more beautiful than ever, with her loosened hair tangled across
the pillow and her lips bruised and softened by his passionate
kisses. He wanted her again at that moment, as much as he had
wanted her half an hour before, and he marveled at her ability to
stir his senses without even trying. He heard her whisper those
strange words once more, and felt a chill down his spine.

“It’s the demon,” Selene murmured, her eyes
closed. “Selene would never do such a thing, in a priory, with
other people about, pull up her skirts and take a man. Not
Selene.”

Terrified by those low, whispered words he
could just barely hear, Thomas took his wife by the shoulders and
shook her hard.

“Selene!”

The emerald eyes flew open, gazed blankly at
him, then slowly focused on his face.

“Thomas,” she said in her normal, husky
tones. “Husband.”

“Selene, what in heaven’s name—” His words
were interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by Meredith’s
voice.

“Selene, are you in there? Are you ill? Open
the door, my dear. I need to speak with you.”

“We are found out,” Thomas said, forgetting
his concern over Selene’s strange behavior in the humor of the
situation. “Caught in bed with my own wife, and before the evening
meal, too.” He scrambled to his feet, straightening his clothes
hastily, then held out his hand to raise Selene from the bed.

“Selene, please open the door.” That was
Meredith again.

“My hair.” Selene’s hands were shaking as she
tried to smooth the shining black mass that tumbled freely about
her shoulders.

“Don’t worry. Meredith will understand.”
Thomas grinned at her and pulled the door wide open.

Meredith looked at him in surprise, then at
Selene, still in great disarray, attempting to straighten her
skirts and her hair at the same time, and lastly Meredith looked at
the rumpled bed behind them.

“I am sorry to disturb you,” Meredith said,
warm laughter lighting her eyes, her smile matching Thomas’s.
“Shall we go away and leave you alone?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Thomas bent to
kiss his wife. “I love you, Selene.”

He went out, brushing past a white-faced
Arianna. He scarcely noticed her holding on to the doorframe to
keep herself upright as she realized what had just transpired
within that room, upon the bed where she and Meredith and Selene
would all sleep that same night.

It took three more days to reach Afoncaer.
They traveled more slowly than before, to ease the way for Reynaud,
who lay rocking uncomfortably in a litter slung between two horses.
On the morning of their departure from Wenlock Priory, Guy had
picked Reynaud up in his arms and personally carried his old friend
to the litter. There Reynaud was placed upon furs and blankets, his
injured arm and what remained of his left leg eased upon pillows,
and then he was covered with more furs until only the right side of
his face was visible. He bore whatever pain this transfer caused
him with great fortitude, nor did he complain.

“I fear for him,” Guy said quietly to
Meredith. “He was so light when I carried him. He’s wasted away to
bones and little else. And though he’s brave, I think his spirit’s
badly damaged, too.”

“Bring us safe to Afoncaer,” Meredith said,
both hands on her husband’s arm, looking up at him with love and
trust, “only get us home to Afoncaer and I’ll do my best to make
him well. And Arianna will help me.” Here Meredith put one arm
around the girl who stood by her side, listening to their
conversation with considerable interest.

“I’ve heard about your willing hands.” Guy
looked approvingly at Arianna. “Reynaud told me how gentle you were
with him, and how you did not flinch at the sight of the stump of
his leg. Others were not so strong as they should be.” Guy’s glance
had fallen upon Selene and he frowned.

“We should go if we’re to reach Shrewsbury
before dark,” Meredith said, diverting Guy’s attention from Selene.
He took the reins of her mare from the groom who held them, and
himself helped his wife to mount. Then he gave the signal to start
the last part of their journey.