Page 130 of The Daughters of Avalon
Something like anger ignited in her breast, for how could she provide Rosalynde a champion, only to wrest him away and return him to her beautiful sister?
It wasn’t fair.
“You mustn’t worry, Rose. I gave you my word to see you safely to Aldergh, and this I’ll do. As luck would have it, whilst I’m there, I have business to address with your sister’s husband.”
Rosalynde nodded once, wanting to ask what business a dutiful earl could have with a traitor to the crown, but her tongue was too thick to speak. Swallowing her grief, she turned away, refusing to meet his gaze. “I… I am not hungry, after all,” she said as she moved toward the bed, suddenly, feeling more enervated than she had even on the day she’d faced Mordecai.
Goddess help her, for all that she’d felt a sense of purpose in regard to thegrimoire, it suddenly seemed a terrible, terrible waste—not for the rest of the realm perhaps, but, for her. Without Giles, it felt as though her world had already ended. But how could that be so? “Thank you…somuch… for all you’ve done, my lord. If you would pardon me now, I should desperately like to sleep.”
“I understand,” he said, watching her tear down the bedding. “Don’t worry, my lady,” he said formally. “I intended to sleep in this chair.”
Rose’s brows slanted sadly. “Of course,” she said, and crawled into the bed, pulling the covers high over her head, not caring that she might wrinkle her fabulous new gown. She didn’t want Giles to see her tear-stricken face, and she wished so much that she still had her wimple and veil.
Yeah, she was angry, embarrassed, disappointed. Sad. And all these things shouldn’t have mattered, because, after all, he was still helping her with theonething shemostneeded… getting thegrimoireto Elspeth.
Everything else was all but fantasy.
It didn’t matter, she told herself.
Nothing mattered.
She didn’t need him.
And yet, she did.
Giles tossed down another gulp of thevin, and sweet as the taste might be, it was bitter on his tongue.
Rosalynde’s emotions were honest and without guile. He could tell that he had hurt her, and it sorely aggrieved him.
They had been inseparable since the ordeal in the glade, but he was losing his resolve, as swiftly as he was losing his religion. Rosalynde Pendragon wasnotfor him, and he mustn’t confuse the mission he’d embarked upon. His sword belonged to the Church, even if his heart now belonged to a beauteous witch… a witch, in truth.
And that, too, was a cross to be borne… because he no more intended to kill the lady, than he meant to bed her. Instead, he would be her advocate to the Church. He would make certain they understood she was not her mother.
For the longest time, he sat, watching the poor girl sleep, feeling more exhausted and confused than he had in all his years. More than aught, he wanted to go to her, comfort her, make love to her… make her his own.
But… he’d had plenty of time to reconsider his folly, and simply because he’d dreamt of her face didn’t mean he was meant to have her. The dream could simply have been God’s way of letting him know that her plight was not to be ignored.
Or, it could be a warning, because in his dream, she had been a water nymph—a beautiful siren from the depths of the sea, who’d lured him into darkness, and perhaps to hell itself.
In truth, if he forsook his oath to Stephen, he would put in danger all the Church had planned.
And, more… in his selfishness, he would betray both his brothers, his father, and his sisters, and most of all, England.
He could not risk it. How then would he face Wilhelm if he returned to Warkworth with Rosalynde Pendragon by his side and it cost them everything?
Nay.He could not take her. So much as his heart longed to and his body yearned to… he simply could not.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
The room was a prison, and yet, it was not.
The window might have bars, and the door might be locked, but the brazier burned hot and strong, and the woodpile was tall—taller than any they’d ever had at Llanthony.
What was more, there was no longer any need to hide what she was… She was adewine, a child of the Earth Mother, a student of thehud. There was freedom to be had in that, even as her body remained imprisoned.
Outside, the moon rose high, bathing her in its silvery light. It was long, long past the Golden Hour, but she was strong now—strong enough not to need the time between times to fortify hermagik.
