Keeper of the Stone (12 page)

Nathan was too furious to appreciate his wife’s skill.  Instead he grabbed the reins out his squire’s hands then changing his mind,  instantly threw them back again in the direction of his surprised squire, who recovered himself quickly enough to keep the horse from bolting. 

Nathan strode towards the stranger who stood regarding Nathan’s approach with a satisfied look on his face, at least until Nathan let his fist sink satisfyingly into the other man’s rock hard stomach.  His taut muscles might have saved the stranger’s life but they didn’t prevent him from sailing through the air and landing in a hard thump several feet from where he previously stood, his grunt of pain audible, his face no longer wearing the smug, gratified expression of moments ago.  Nodding now with his own satisfaction, Nathan returned to his mount and took off after his wife, gesturing for his men to follow.

He was going to lock her in his room until she was pregnant with his son. Nathan consoled himself with the cheerful thought – that or beat her regularly, a practice he considered barbaric but he knew some men resorted to in order to control their wives.  He thought them ridiculous for resorting to physical violence in order to prove themselves masters of their own households. After less than a day of married life, he was clearly in danger of losing control of his own. 

He was going to have to take a firm hand.  As soon as he caught up with his errant wife and her untamed horse. Obviously Rhiann was allowed to run wild in her father’s household.  And what did the stranger mean exactly when he referred to Rhiann’s grandmother as his queen?  What did that make Rhiann with the rest of her family dead?  Her heir?  Over his dead body.  Rhiann was his.  The Salusians would have to find a new heir to their throne.  Surely the queen had a son to inherit.

Nathan gained the hill and looked around, expecting to find his wife in the valley beneath him.  His heart started racing again when he could find no evidence of her.  Didn’t she spare a single thought for her own safety?  Wasn’t she aware of the dangers a woman alone tempted outside the city gates?

He caught up with her after a hard, panicked ride across the countryside.  That was a lie.  He didn’t catch them. He spotted sight of the black standing at the entrance to the old forest. Rhiann was nowhere in sight. 

Fear gripping him, assuming she must have been thrown from the stallion, remembering her death grip around the black’s neck, Nathan urged his mount on, his mind painting dark images of his wife being trampled beneath the hoofs of the wild stallion, or lying motionless near where the horse stood, pawing at the ground, her back broken from the force of being thrown from the stallion’s back. 

Relief slammed through him at the sight of his wife sitting quietly and apparently uninjured leaning up against the trunk of an ancient tree at the entrance to the forest, and was quickly replaced by the hot spill of fury.  Nathan slid off his mount just a few feet from where she rested and when he would have reached out to pull her to her feet and into his arms, the black objected strongly.  He rose up on his hind legs and bandied his front hooves threateningly in Nathan’s direction. 

Rhiann seemed unaffected by the stallion’s outburst.  Nathan took a cautious step back, recognizing incredulously the stallion was actually protecting his wife from his anger.  The black settled back on all fours but kept a cautious eye on Nathan.  Archibald slid up cautiously to stand beside him.  The two men exchanged incredulous glances. 

Then Nathan shook his head at his own fanciful interpretation of the black’s actions and once again stepped towards his wife.  The horse moved to block his approach.  Nathan turned back and exchanged one more incredulous glance with his friend, this time noting the amusement Archibald made no effort to conceal beneath his astonishment.  His men, who accompanied him on his reckless race across the countryside, still remained mounted on their own steeds and all bore the same astonished expressions at the sight of the stallion’s defense of their new mistress.

Resigned, Nathan tried to peek around the black and address his wife.  “Rhiann.  I believe, as your lord and husband, I’m entitled to an explanation about...” Words failed him and instead he spread his arm in a wide arc, unable to give voice to the full extent of his frustration, and ended lamely, “…about all of this.”

His wife acted as though she didn’t hear him.  In fact, she’d yet to acknowledge his presence at all.  He took an impatient step forward, then just as quickly retreated at the stallion’s bristling manner.  His unusual retreat tasted sour in his mouth but he was unwilling to risk the stallion backing up and crushing his wife beneath one of those threatening hoofs.  The stallion was wild.  There was no telling when he would turn on the object of his defense and attack her instead.  Forcing himself to adopt a calm demeanor he was far from feeling, Nathan squatted down and peered at his wife’s still form and bent head between the stallion’s massive legs.

“Rhiann.”  No response.  “Rhiann, look at me, wife.”  He forced a soft, patient tone he was far from feeling, and waited, his patience straining to its very limits, until she lifted her head so he could see her face. 

He drew in a breath at the sight of her devastation.  Tears streamed down her face and the look in her eyes revealed her abject defeat.  The strange box and the arrival of the stranger was the final burden that broke her spirit.  He couldn’t stand seeing her like this.  “Rhiann.” He whispered her name and stood to approach her, only to be stopped by the black once again.  His impatience exploded within him.  Damn it!  He should be the one comforting and protecting his wife in her hour of need, not her stupid horse.  “Rhiann if you don’t call off the black, I swear to God I’ll instruct one of my men to put an arrow through its heart.”

His threat shook her out of her misery long enough to whisper a few soft words in the Salusian tongue to the black, who turned a suspicious glance back at Nathan before neighing as if he understood every word his wife spoke to him, then dipping his proud head before his wife, took off towards the crest of a nearby hill.

Nathan stood and approached his silent bride.  Her head was bent towards the ground and she continued to refuse to acknowledge him.  He reached out and lifted her chin so he could see her face. As soon as their eyes met he forgot the lecture he was planning on delivering about scaring him to death, about forbidding her to ever go near the wild stallion again, about how he was her husband now and he deserved an explanation about why she was wearing the jeweled dagger from the strange box strapped to her arm, did she think to use it on him? About why there were tiny bells woven into her hair that tinkled softly in the almost still breeze. 

Nathan couldn’t believe he was only now noticing the last few details. His brain was so addled from his fear of his wife getting herself killed; he apparently somehow managed to overlook them.  He felt as though he stepped into an alternate existence.  Nothing was the same in his usually ordered, disciplined life since he became tangled up in his wife’s ever expanding web of chaos and confusion. 

He definitely needed to take a firm hand.  And he would do so just as soon as Rhiann stopped staring at him with that hollow expression in her eyes, as if the grief she managed to avoid until the stranger’s appearance suddenly caught up with her all at once. She sat regarding him with an expression of despair and the hopelessness of death as if all the life was sucked from her beautiful eyes.   

“Rhiann.” Her name was a whisper on his lips.  The hand he used to cup her chin and wipe away her tears was as gentle as if she were indeed the still half-wild, untamed colt she brought to mind earlier.

“I should have died with her.  Then you could have my father’s estates and not be saddled with me for a wife.”

Her pitiful confession stirred his heart.  “No wife.  Without you, your father’s lands would be small consolation.  A cold bed at night.  No one to instruct me in my husbandly duties.”

Her lips curved in a tiny smile at his weak attempt at humor.  “You’re a wealthy man now, Nathan.  There wouldn’t be any shortage of ladies, even Norman ladies, who would be pleased to wed you.”

“Perhaps.”  He conceded her rather mercenary point.  “But none who would please me as you do.”

“You’re angry with me.”  So much for his effort to conceal his dark mood until she was feeling better.

“You belong to me now.”  He reminded her, thinking the statement explained everything she needed to know.

“I know.  I like belonging to you.”  A blush stained her cheeks at her soft admission and her lashes dipped low over her green witch’s eyes.

Her confession took his breath away.  “I like it, too.” He was somewhat stunned by his willingness to admit his weakness to his wife, and even more astonished by how much time he already wasted chasing after his young bride this morning.  His schedule was in complete disarray. 

Rhiann apparently possessed not the slightest understanding of the concept of self-restraint, or even a minimal concern for her personal safety. He was at a loss as to how she managed to survive so long without some semblance of the discipline and self-control that ruled his life since he was a boy.  She was turning his previously well-ordered life into a mockery of discipline and self-control. He had no idea how to convince her of the danger she was in when she left the city alone on her foolish gallop across the country.  He accepted she was in no real danger.  He would never allow anything to happen to her. 

But what if she took it into her head to go off on one of her jaunts when he was occupied with other matters?  He was a busy man.  He couldn’t spend every waking moment in pursuit of his flighty bride. She was his wife now.  He remembered quite clearly her vow before the priest to obey and honor him.  He was her lord.  She needed to understand she was under his authority.  Just like one of his soldiers, who would never take off on some personal errand without first seeking his permission.

His wife apparently failed to grasp the basic concept she needed to gain his permission before taking a step in either one direction or another. Nathan was just warming up to his planned lecture as his mounting frustration over his wife’s lack of discipline overrode his previous reluctance to injure her sensitive feelings when he noticed the tears  filling her eyes and spilling silently down her cheeks.

“What is it now, wife?” He could barely disguise his frustration and impatience.

“They’re gone, aren’t they?”  The few moments of blessed calm when she sat silently leaning against the trunk of the ancient tree vanished in a heartbeat and her slight form was suddenly wracked by silent sobs.

Nathan gave up.  He hoped his easy surrender at the sight of his wife’s distress did not become a habit, else his previously well-ordered life would dissolve into unrestrained chaos. He reached for his young bride, his strong arms barely registering the small, trembling burden he held against his chest. His quest for answers would have to wait a little while longer.  Right now Rhiann was exhausted and wracked with grief.  He needed to get her back to the king’s home and out of this damp cold.  He strode back to where his men waited, their faces all wearing the same serious expressions of sympathy and concern.  He gained his mount, settled Rhiann on his lap, and then turned back at the sound of the insistent neighing from the top of the ridge. 

For a moment he considered sending a few of his men after the horse, not wanting to add to his wife’s grief by admitting he lost her prized stallion, but then thought better of the idea.  There was no way his men’s sturdy war horses could keep up with the pure bred stallion.  Nathan also suspected the black would enjoy leading his men in circles before tiring of the game and leaving them in his dust.  No, he had enough mysteries on his hands.  The stallion was on its own.  At least until his wife came back to him and unraveled the growing mystery surrounding her past.

Rhiann’s sobs grew quieter as they rode silently towards town, and then stilled completely.  Nathan looked down at his wife’s tear-stained face and realized exhaustion finally won the battle with her grief.  Occasional sobs still shook her, even in sleep, and she shivered against him.  He took care to wrap his cloak more firmly around her and she snuggled closer against him.  At least in sleep she apparently trusted him enough to abandon her secrets and cling to his strength as any obedient wife should. 

CHAPTER NINE

His bride slept through the afternoon and right through dinner.  Nathan ignored the curious and speculative stares of his dinner companions gathered around the king’s table.  His blank stare did not encourage questions about the rumors circulating about his wife. There was no shortage of speculation concerning the Salusian’s visit, Rhiann’s astonishing show of horsemanship, or the black stallion that could still be seen lingering outside the city gates.  Even if Nathan were inclined to respond to their curiosity he possessed little enough information to share with them. 

He was still trying to puzzle out how he came into possession of a duke’s estates, his lovely and innocent daughter for his wife, how he became tangled up in the mystery of an odd stone and the strange rumors surrounding his young bride’s family.  Was it really only twenty four hours earlier he was just a simple vassal in the service of his king?  A knight who commanded men in the science of war? 

Nathan understood steel and training, loyalty and self-discipline.  He was considered a skilled judge of a man’s character and the impulses that ruled his heart.  He therefore understood a man’s weaknesses and how to exploit them to his advantage.  He attained his status as a close confidant of the king as much for his discerning judgment as for his unswerving loyalty and the highly trained army under his command. 

Now he could admit he was completely at a loss as to how to deal with his young wife.  Was Rhiann so different from Lady Sara, the woman he planned to wed upon his return to Normandy before his life turned on the king’s whim a few short hours ago?  Yes, of course she was.  Sara was a younger daughter of a lesser lord, biddable, obedient, understanding her place in her husband’s household.  She would bring a small manor into their marriage as her dowry.