Page 106 of The Daughters of Avalon
For his part, Wilhelm scarcely ever dared look at her, and he seemed intensely aggravated by their current obligations. She was coming to see him as a sour-faced lout, who was saved from being handsome by the perpetual look of contempt he wore. If only he wouldn’t frown so much, he might be as comely as his brother—which only brought her to wonder how these two could possibly be related. They didn’t look much alike. Both had dark eyes, butWilhelm’shair was black and straight, cut in the Norman fashion, whilst Giles’s hair was golden-blond, like the color of honey, with soft, loose curls that teased at his nape.
Truly, the man was beautiful, unnaturally so, and Rosalynde couldn’t help herself—casting backward glances. He had lashes so dark and thick as to appear painted, like that of a Saracen’s. But, no matter how exquisite his face might appear, he was saved from prettiness by the firm lines of a very masculine jaw, and the huskiness of his male form.
In a flight of fancy, she dared imagine him her champion, in truth… and if he could change his surly attitude, perhaps Arwyn might like the brother.
Alas, she daren’t contemplate why Seren didn’t enter her vision at all. After all, Giles was her sister’s intended, not hers. And yet… here they were…together… and Seren was nowhereto be found. It couldn’t be a mere coincidence that out of all the horses in London, she had stolen the very one belonging to Giles de Vere, and here he was… without his given bride.
At any rate, it wasn’t as though Seren could possibly love the man. Until yesterday, her sister had never even met him, and, regardless, Rose knew Seren well enough to know her heart. It could be that Seren herself had willed Giles to her rescue. Surely, far less fanciful tales had inspired bards’ songs.
And yet, very clearly, her dubious savior did not share her fancy—not at the moment. All the while they rode, it seemed to Rose that he must be performing acrobatics to avoid her. Somehow, he’d managed to place his long arms about her, only bowed to such a degree that he wouldn’t be forced to touch her. Sweet fates. If she only dared, she might have laughed.
On the other hand, her reaction to him was hardly amusing. It was… confusing…
With his arms embracing her and leaning so close, she caught scents of warm leather, sunshine and a heady muskiness that called to her woman’s senses in a way she couldn’t ignore. Trying to make sense of it all, she sat quietly, her back straight, her precious Book pressed to her breast, until, much to her dismay, they found the King’s Road, abandoning the sanctuary of the woodlands, and the sight of the long, dusty lane, cleared of trees, gave her heart a flitter.
Once on the road, the canopy of green disappeared, the sky was clear for miles… the view entirely unobstructed to little black, beady eyes…
Rosalynde peered back over her shoulder. “My lord… do you not fear brigands might be watching the road?”
“Watching,” he said with little concern. “But we have naught so much of value for the trouble it would cost them to take it.”
And so, he might believe, but, in truth, they had something far,farmore valuable than either of these men could ever imagine.
Rosalynde swallowed hard, despite the reassuring glimmer of the sword in his scabbard, and she made herself small, burrowing deeper into space between his arms, biting her tongue.
Anyone who looked upon the Book of Secretsmight see only a well-used book of scripture, but the knowledge writ herein was old as time itself. And despite that there were many, manygrimoiresheldacross the realm, this was the only one penned by Taliesin, the father of their coven. On its face were marks that were no longer legible in their time,magikrunes lost evermore, save by virtue of this one precious book.
Wilhelm suddenly gave his mare a gentle heel and moved ahead, saying, “I’d like to seeanymanattemptto relievemeofmyvaluables.”
Surprised by the outburst, Rosalynde watched as his chest puffed, and he cast a glance over his shoulder, perhaps to gauge his brother’s expression.
Behind her, Lord Giles offered a nearly inaudible grunt of frustration, but he said naught in response to his brother’s boast. She sensed that Wilhelm was more a burr in his saddle—or, more to the occasion, a plain-faced nun he couldn’t be rid of, and so he tolerated her. But though, in truth, Wilhelm was the larger man, she had a sense that Giles de Vere was no man to be trifled with, and she only wondered why the brother didn’t fear him.
Then again, Rosalynde didn’t fear her sisters either—not Elspeth nor Rhi, and most certainly not Arwyn or Seren. However, none of her sisters expected obeisance, even though Elspeth liked to control every aspect of every situation. And regardless, for all that they’d lived five girls to a crude little cottage, with no mother or father, they’d rarely ever fought, savefor the occasional squabble over chores. They’d depended too much on each other, and it had taken every bit of their wit and energy to endure life at the priory.
It was incredible what could be accomplished altogether and how difficult life could be alone. But this, too, was a manifestation of thehud—the unity of spirit and the power of shared prayer. Even now, Rosalynde couldfeelher sisters’ love. They were her strength in this mad, mad world, and she didn’t know what she would do without them. Perhaps these two brothers simply needed a reason to look beyond their petty quarrels, and her mother would surely give it to them if she ever found them.
Sadly, if Rosalynde hoped to find herself relieved by their company, the longer they traveled together, the more agitated she became, and the more she missed her sweet sisters… the more she worried about herglamour.
And yet, so long as Giles de Vere kept pushing her away—gently, of course—she shouldn’t worry about the spell.
Bored and ill at ease in perfect view of the heavens, Rosalynde longed for friendly conversation. “So, then… you are lord of Warkworth?” she asked.
“Earl,” interjected the brother. He had been silent until this point, and it seemed to Rose that he’d been waiting for an opportunity to pounce.
“Appointed yesterday,” said Giles, though he left it at that, making Rosalynde all the more curious. And yet, shouldn’t that be something marvelous to crow about?
Clearly, the news didn’t please the brother, and there must be a bit of the devil in Rosalynde, because she couldn’t let it go—particularly since Lord Giles seemed so ready to shove her away every time she sought the sanctuary of his coat. “What a wonderful boon,” she said.
“So it is.”
“So, then, my lord, you must expound… what great deed have you performed to earn such a prestigious title? Did you perchance manage to save our king from his cousin… again?”
Wilhelm snickered, but, alas, if there was a note of sarcasm in Rosalynde’s tone, she didn’t bother to regret it.Everybodyknew there were an unseemly number of newly appointed earls during Stephen’s reign, and he had, indeed, named a few of them for having saved him from Matilda. That thought amused her, though she hardly anticipated the answer he gave her. “I lived, whilst my father died,” he said a little bitterly, and Rosalynde frowned.
“Oh,” she said, deflated. “Pardon, my lord.”
“Worry not,” he said curtly, putting a hand to her back and pushing her gently forward.
