Duty: a novel of Rhynan (11 page)

He smiled at my frown of concentration. “People want
a lord who drinks. It is a sign of a man willing to relax.”

He brushed my hair back from my shoulder, fingering
the curls a moment before releasing them. “I will not leave you
alone, Brielle. Jarvin will remain. Kuylan and at least seven
others cannot join us due to their injuries. Twelve able-bodied men
claim injury as well, under my orders, and they will obey your
commands. Six of Rathenridge’s men guard Jorndar. They will also be
loyal to you. Landry appears honorable but he might be under the
influence of Rolendis’ charm.” He glanced down the table. I
followed his gaze. Rolendis leaned over Landry’s arm speaking
earnestly, “His true allegiance will show soon enough.”

Guilt edged my conscience. Were we judging Horacian
and his daughter unfairly? “What if Rolendis and her father are
innocent?”

He stroked my cheek, sending shivers down my spine. I
closed my eyes. I didn’t want him to see the yearnings his touch
brought forth. I welcomed them and feared them. Until I understood
the feelings better, I didn’t want to confess them to him.

“If our suspicions are wrong, then there is no harm
done.” He kissed my temple. My cheeks burned. “Eat, love. You will
need it. We have a full evening ahead and breakfast is a long way
off.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After the fealty swearing ceremony, I wanted to
sleep. The exhaustion of earlier pulled at my limbs, reminding me
of the abuse of the past days. Yet, the troubadour continued to
sing of a woman with flame-touched hair. The hero of the tale set
off on a foolish quest to win her love by bringing her water from
the fountain of youth. I held a small smile on my lips despite the
vanity of the lady and the foolishness of her swain. Irvaine was
wise enough to know that love cannot be bought with gifts.

“Your smile is slipping.” Irvaine’s hand closed over
mine as it lay on the table. “Are you ready to retire?”

I nodded. “I am not accustomed to sleeping on the
ground.”

“No ground for you tonight, my love. Tonight there
will be a well-stuffed mattress, soft bedding, and me to keep you
warm.”

I looked up in surprise to spot Rolendis walking
behind him. She passed close enough to hear his words. Irvaine’s
free hand brushed beneath my chin, setting my skin on fire as it
tilted my face. His thumb grazed the corner of my mouth.

“I wanted to do this all evening.”

His mouth caught mine gently, exploring and savoring.
My senses whirled. Catching his forearm, I tried to anchor myself
to reality. Instead, the movement of his lips and the delicate
pressure of his fingertips against my cheek pulled me into a world
of his creating. I fell beneath their spell.

Only when he withdrew a hand’s breadth to study my
face did reality gradually reassert itself.

“I should have tried that sooner.” His dark eyes
studied my face, lingering on my mouth before returning to gaze
deep into my eyes. That was when I realized the murmur of
conversations around us had died down. I glanced out at the hall.
The troubadour finally finished his song. Most of the crowd’s
attention focused on us. I didn’t dare look Rolendis’ way.

With a scrape of wood against stone, Rathenridge rose
to his feet and raised his goblet. “Hail Lord Irvaine and his lady,
the beautiful Brielle of Wisenvale! May their marriage bring bounty
and security!”

Irvaine smiled down at me. Over his shoulder,
Rolendis avoided my gaze as she lowered her cup unsipped.

“Come, it is time we retired.” Irvaine rose and
offered me a hand.

Amid calls of encouragement from men tipsy with too
much wine, we descended from the dais and walked once again through
their midst. I took comfort in the upturned faces that looked upon
Irvaine with hope.

A vargar without a master meant uncertainty for the
inhabitants. They would wish him to stay as long as he brought
security, full bellies, and warm shelter. But would their hope fade
when he left so soon after his arrival? Most of the men and women
pressed around us didn’t know of the greater threat coming from the
east. Suddenly their high expectations fell over my shoulders like
a damp cloak, snuffing out the lingering embers of Irvaine’s public
affections.

I shivered as we stepped into the corridor. Irvaine
led me toward our chamber at a swift pace. We reached the top of
the stair, and our door waited only a dozen steps beyond.

“My lord?” Rolendis’ voice echoed in the stairwell
behind us. She paused in climbing the last turn of the steps. One
hand on the wall for balance, one clutching her skirts to keep from
tripping, she looked up at Irvaine with bright eyes and parted
lips. The neck of her gown slipped over her shoulder, offering a
hint at what was beneath the cloth. The torch light added a subtle
glow to her bared skin. “You promised me an audience tonight.”

Despite Irvaine’s mildly distracted expression as he
examined the mortar of the wall to her right, the arm beneath my
hand tightened like a bow string.

“I did? What do you wish to say?” He turned partially
away from her, maneuvering me between them.

“In private, my lord? It is a personal matter.”

Irvaine covered my hand with his, pressing it in
place. “There are only the three of us here. Surely my wife’s
presence cannot be objectionable no matter how personal the matter.
Now please speak or hold your tongue until my return. I have things
to do before I sleep.”

Her surprise at his curt reply quickly melted into
pretty tears. “I just wanted to ask for a special dispensation. My
sleep has been restless of late. I have taken to walking the halls
at night to try to wear myself out. The wise woman says I need to
rest for the child’s sake.” She caressed her abdomen. “She gave me
some herbs, but insisted they be taken before bed with mulled wine.
My father denied my request for the additional wine. He directed me
to you.”

“If that is all, then tell him to allow it. One extra
ration of wine should be adequate, unless you require more to
forget your husband?”

She had the sense to blush and tug her dress back
into place. Still, anger flared in her eyes. “How dare you mock my
grief? My husband has been in his grave barely two months. Why
shouldn’t I lose sleep over how I shall survive without him? He was
my future, our child’s future. Now my son shall grow up without his
father, without a title, or land.” She sniffed and tossed her head,
jabbing her sharp chin into the air in injured defiance. “Why do I
even try explaining? No one understands. It isn’t like you have
ever lost a spouse.”

Irvaine stiffened. “You have your additional wine.
Good eve.”

Then without waiting for a response, he propelled me
down the hall and through our chamber door.

He closed it solidly behind us. Leaning back against
the wood, he closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands
against them. The glow from the fire and a single lantern near the
door cast his features into stark relief.

My anger at Rolendis’ obvious advances warred with my
shock at Irvaine’s comment about her husband.

He groaned. “I owe her an apology. I went too far.”
He pushed off from the door and launched himself into the center of
the room. Casting off his belt and sword as he went, he paced
toward the far wall.

“She was practically offering herself to you before
me, your wife.” The anger won. “I don’t think you owe her
anything.”

He laid his weapon and belt on the table beneath the
single window, now shuttered against the night and covered by heavy
curtains. “Losing a spouse, even one who does not claim the usual
emotional attachment, is not something to be mocked.” He shoved his
hands through his hair. “No matter what the circumstances, I should
have been kinder.”

Tension gathered between his shoulders.

As I watched him, I realized that five years since
his first wife’s death wasn’t a long time. The three years since my
father’s death seemed an eternity of hardship and toil. When I
lingered on the strength of my longing to see him again, his death
felt like it happened only yesterday. Losing a spouse could hardly
have been less traumatic, especially if she left a living reminder
of their union, Darnay.

“Did you love her?”

“Love who?” He turned to search my face in
confusion.

“Your wife.”

“Elenawyn?” He considered the question with
confusion. “Ours wasn’t a matching of love. From her perspective, I
served a purpose. I felt affection for her. We rubbed well
together, but not closely.”

“Then how did you end up married to her? Was it
another royal decree?”

He shook his head as he sat on the edge of the bed to
work at removing his boots. “Quaren asked me, she needed me, and I
was the only one who could help at the time.” He dropped the first
boot onto the floor with a thud. “Do you mind if we don’t discuss
this now. I hoped for something very different tonight.” The second
boot came free and fell. He plucked them from the floor and crossed
to set them beneath the table. Turning back to face me, he raised
an eyebrow. “You are planning on sleeping, right?”

“Yes.” My head ached with all the new information. I
couldn’t figure out how Quaren could have possibly figured into
Irvaine’s marriage with his first wife. The fact she needed him did
make sense. Irvaine would assist a woman in need. “Was she Quaren’s
sister?”

“By marriage, not by birth.”

My thoughts stuttered and my mind went blank.

A feather-light brush of a finger against my jaw
startled me. Irvaine stood before me. His hand lifted my chin so
his dark eyes could roam my face. Their unspoken query pulled at my
gaze, capturing them in a web of fascination. “It is not a hard
thing to explain. He was married to her sister.”

“You and Quaren are brothers-in-law?”

“We were. Now rest your mind. Your thoughts are
pulling at your brows and tightening your mouth. What is it that
worries you so? It is that I was married before? Do you compare
yourself to her?” He dropped his attention to my mouth. “Don’t,
Brielle. Elenawynn was like ice, cold and painful. Incapable of
love, she treated every kindness with suspicion. You are not
her.”

His hand released my chin so that his thumb could
brush my bottom lip. “Warm, vibrant, and alive, you are capable of
far more than affection. Give me a chance, Brielle. Keep your heart
open. Give me a chance.”

His mouth lingered a breath from mine. Not touching,
barely breathing, he waited. My whole being cried out for him to
bridge the small span between us, but he ignored my silent scream.
A heartbeat passed…seven…twelve in quick succession. Finally I
couldn’t stand it anymore. I stepped forward, pushed up on my toes,
and met his challenge.

The slight pressure of lips and his gentle response
brought an unexpectedly intense reaction. Acute awareness of him
flooded me. He radiated warmth and the heady scents of soap and
pine. My fingers entangled in his tunic in an effort to balance
against the onslaught of my senses. He followed my movement, mouth
never leaving mine. Liquid heat sluiced through my veins,
comforting and entreating. Slightly frightened by the strength of
my desire for more, I stepped back.

His hands spanned my ribs and stopped me from moving
away more than a few inches. “Why are you retreating?”

“I am afraid.”

“What do you fear?”

“Doing something wrong.”

“Do you trust me?”

Flashes of memory from our wedding night teased. He
had asked me exactly that question then. It seemed much more
distant than a few nights ago. So much had happened in such a short
span of time.

“Yes.”

“Then trust me to take care of you.”

I did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Morning came too soon. I woke to Tomas’ absence. When
I ventured a hand out from beneath the covers to look for him, the
bedding was cool to the touch. The soft shuffles of someone moving
about in the predawn darkness brought my attention to the only
light source in the room. The recently revived fire outlined Tomas
easing his under-tunic over his head. Chainmail lay in a heap at
his feet. His breastplate and other armor leaned up against the
wall.

Memories of last night urged me from the warm cocoon
of covers. Frigid air greeted me as I climbed out of bed to join
him. My bare feet against the icy wooden boards brought my breath
hissing in through my teeth.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting dressed.” I pulled the top blanket off the
bed with me to wrap around my chemise as I searched for my
clothing.

He crossed to catch my arm. “I don’t leave for
hours.”

“Time I don’t want to waste.” I looked up into his
face. The now familiar planes of his cheeks, the firm line of his
mouth, the inky depths of his eyes, even the riot of his dark curls
called to my fingers. I wanted to spend more time exploring them.
They were mine to memorize; just as the rest of him was mine to
explore. If only he didn’t have to leave. “I know you will come
back, but I don’t want to lose a moment…”
in case you don’t
return.
I closed my eyes. I couldn’t speak the words. They
caught on the lump of fear at the back of my throat.
Kurios,
please be merciful. Bring him back to me.

“I am only going to train. I will come back for you
so we can break our fast together.”

“Let me come.”

The surprise in his eyes made me laugh.

“I would love to watch you spar. I might learn
something.”

He smiled and released my arm to brush the side of my
face. His fingers radiated tempting warmth against my cold skin. “I
forgot how many noses you have broken. Dress warmly, the water in
the wash basin iced over last night.”