Page 129 of The Daughters of Avalon
When all was said and done, it wasn’t just that Giles was the first man she’d ever known so intimately. It wasn’t merely that he was also the most beautiful man she’d ever known. Nor wasit only that she’d spent so many hours reveling in the warmth of his embrace. And nay, it wasn’t because he’d saved her life. She likedhim,truly. She likedeverythingabout him. She liked the way he ate. She loved his smile. She loved the way he walked and talked. She loved the quiet strength and power he wielded so easily. She loved the patience he showed his brother, and most of all, she loved the way he made her feel…
He gestured toward the table, and Rosalynde’s knees buckled as she moved closer to discover that he’d brought her a bit of mutton, cheese and bread. In truth, she wasn’t very hungry, but she knew she must try—else thevinwould go straight to her head, and she wanted desperately that tonight should be divine…
“Forgive me,” he said. “I ate. All save thevinis for you.”
Rose’s hand fluttered to her breast. “For me?”
She was overcome with emotion. It wasn’t enough that he would buy her gowns and then deign to serve her, but not even at Westminster had she dined so finely. Not for one minute was her mother ever concerned abouthowher daughters filled their bellies, much lesswhatthey ate. And so much as they had been surrounded by opulence at the palace, they would have preferred Llanthony with their crude dirt floors. At least then they could have eaten from their garden. But this—she swept her hand reverently over the laden tray. It was too much to eat alone, and what was worse, as famished as she should have been, she had inexplicably lost her appetite. There was a fluttering in her belly, like a hundred thousand angels flittering all at once.
Retrieving her hand, she put it about her cup, bringing the goblet slowly to her lips. “I shall eat later,” she promised with a smile, as he watched her, all the while twirling his own cup in his hand.
What should she do now?
Rosalynde turned to regard the bed, wondering what should come next… the room was so warm now that she could easily undress… and rush into the bed.
“How is your wound?” he asked.
“Healed,” she reassured him. “But… I do have scars.” And her blush returned as she considered that she must now reveal all her imperfections.
And yet—she furrowed her brow—she was quite puzzled, because, truly, she had never known a healing spell not to remove wound marks as well. She now had eight hideous black pocks that were clearly visible, even after a week—not unlike the darkening scars that Wilhelm now wore on his face.
“And this surprises you?”
Rosalynde nodded. “Perhaps,” she confessed, but then… she didn’t know what else to say.
Now should she undress and get into the bed?
What must he think of her compared to her sister?
Behind her, Giles sank into one of the chairs. And then he sat for such an excruciatingly long while, facing the bed. In fact, he waited so long to speak that, outside, full darkness descended, bathing the room in shadows. On the bed, the rainbow prism vanished, and still, he sipped quietly at hisvin…
What if, after all, he didn’t want her? What if, in truth, Rose imagined everything? What if the bond she felt was nothing more than a heartfelt wish?
Feeling compelled to, she now returned to the table, forcing herself to pick up a piece of the bread, taking a nibble. “’Tis good,” she said, and thanked him again, acutely aware that his eyes never left her, until, at long last, he broached the subject they’d been so studiously avoiding all week long, and she felt a terrible prick of dread.
“You must know, Rose… I am betrothed to your sister?”
“I-I do, my lord.” Rosalynde’s heart thudded to a halt.
A deeper silence fell between them… a silence that brought the sizzling inside the brazier to a roar, and Rosalynde forced herself to take another bite of the bread, making herself chew.
“As God is my witness, I do not care about the title, and yet… if I do not honor my contract with Stephen, I stand to lose Warkworth.”
Rosalynde’s throat constricted. The bread inside her mouth turned to paste, and her heart squeezed painfully.
Somehow, she had not consideredhimin this, but… yeah, of course. He stood to lose everything… and why did she think he was only here to serve the will of Goddess?
“I made a bargain,” he said. “My fealty to Stephen for the chance to rebuild… and… to seal our deal, I accepted your sister’s hand. Our wedding is to be six months hence.”
“I wouldst…” Rosalynde shook her head, setting the rest of the bread down, losing what little appetite she had mustered. She lifted her hand to her mouth, perhaps to keep herself from retching, and with much, much effort, she managed to swallow what she had in her mouth, then, she lifted her goblet, along with the flagon, pouring from its contents until her goblet was full to the brim. “I… I do… not… wish to see you lose Warkworth… my lord.” She set the flagon down, very quietly.
“If it were only me…”
Rosalynde would have lifted a hand if she could, but both of them were strangling her goblet. “You need not explain,” she said, tipping the goblet to her lips, draining the contents. “So, then… you would still wed my sister, Seren?”
“That… is the plan,” he said, and Rose’s eyes filled with hot tears she daren’t shed. With shaking hands, she poured another goblet full and then once again tipped it to her lips, gulping until she was no longer in danger of weeping. “My sister… Seren is wonderful,” she said, swallowing her grief. “You will love her.”
He said naught to that, and until that instant, Rosalynde hadn’t ever dared begrudge her sisters aught. Only now that she knew Giles… now that they had shared so much together… the very thought of Seren wedding him seemed a sore, sore lack of grace on the part of the Goddess.
