Page 126 of The Daughters of Avalon
Giles lifted his brows. “Tricks?”
Wilhelm’s lips turned into a wide, devious grin, and now, more than ever, he looked the part of a butcher, with a glint in his eyes that matched the glint of his steel, and a set to his shoulders that widened his substantial girth. His scars alone were enough to make a grown man piss himself, if only because to have survived such an ordeal, his strength was unquestionable.
“Godspeed,” offered Giles, with a nod.
“Wait!”Rosalynde said, rushing forward when Wilhelm turned to leave. She had been silent, watching these two brothers—loving their devotion. Whatever discord had once existed between them was gone. She had no doubt they would die for one another, and perhaps they still might. “May I… give a blessing?” she dared ask.
For a long moment, Wilhelm merely looked at her, frowning, and despite his growing fondness for Rosalynde, she thought he might turn her away, just as he’d refused her healing. Clearly, he still didn’t trust hermagik. But he gave her a nod, and said, “I suspect I shall need all the help I can get.”
She gave Giles a wary glance to gauge his reaction, but he, too, nodded, and Rosalynde swept forward, laying a hand on Wilhelm’s courser, silently entreating a blessing from the Goddess. “Godspeed,” she said, when she was through.
“And to you, my lady,” said Wilhelm, giving her a nod, and then another to his lord brother before bolting away.
“Do you think he will fare well alone?”
Giles stood behind her, silent for a moment as the two of them watched Wilhelm go. “My brother is as capable as any,” he said, at long last.
It was so much easier to speak her mind with her back to him. “Then perhaps you should say so… he longs for your validation.” There was more she longed to say—so much more—but her lips suddenly would not part.
He met her counsel with silence, and the feeling was intensely awkward. And then, after a moment, she started at the feel of a hand gripping her elbow. He drew her back and turned her around to look her into her eyes. “I would rest the night here,” he told her.
Rosalynde nodded.
His dark eyes held a silent message. “We have a long journey ahead, and we need rest, but… I prefer not to let you out of my sight.”
Rosalynde nodded again, understanding.
“I would explain to Mother Helewys that you are my lady wife.”
One last time, Rosalynde nodded, though her knees felt weak, and her heart beat painfully as she peered up, meeting his deep, dark eyes.
For a long, long moment, they merely stared at one another… and then, he moved closer, and lifted a hand to her cheek, then bent to press a small kiss to her forehead… then another over the bridge of her nose… and there… he allowed his lips to linger, warm and pliant against her already fevered skin.
At last, would they speak of the bonding? Was it possible that he, too, had heard the Goddess?
Rosalynde dared to hope.
After an excruciating moment, he slid a hand to her chin, lifting her face to his gaze… and he gave her one more, firmbut chaste brush of his lips… upon the lips, and sweet though it might be, it held a certain promise in its tenderness.
“Can you stand by my side and give credence to my words, Rose?”
She loved the way he said her name—so intimately, and she would do anything he asked of her and more, but she realized it was one thing to stand by whilst Wilhelm offered the ladies of Neasham a handful of glittering gold, and yet another to stand before them in full view of their scrutiny, and answer as his wife.
“Of course,” she said, though she worried.
What would happen if the prioress should happen to note her stolen habit? She didn’t want to hide anymore—not with anyglamour. But despite that the woolen material wasn’t very fine, the needlework was very distinct, with the sisters’ signature embroidery on the sleeves and hem. And still, Rosalynde hadn’t the heart to confess as much to Giles. She didn’t want him to know the depths of her deceptions, justified though they might be.
Her Welsh grandmother had had a saying for times like these… for times when fate lay beyond the control of mere mortals.
Beth fydd.
Whatever would be, would be.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Rosalynde stood meekly by Giles’s side whilst he bargained with the prioress, concealing her sleeves and too-short hem beneath her borrowed cloak. Only now she wondered… what might have happened if she’d never stolen the habit?
