Page 156 of The Daughters of Avalon
Somehow, she was causing the change in the weather.
It took Wilhelm a full moment to realize what precisely was transpiring, and if he hadn’t understood intrinsicallywhoandwhatshe was… he might never have believed what he was witnessing. His skin prickled as he watched storm clouds form overhead. In scant seconds the air went from balmy to blustery, and every tree without substantial girth shivered against the onslaught. The occurrence was enough to make a grown man piss his breeches, and nevertheless, he wasn’t afraid. He understood intuitively what she was going through. She was taking refuge in her anger—as had he. No matter what he’d wished to believe of the lady his brother was once betrothed to, he recognized a gentle soul when he met one, and realizing he was only making matters worse, he stepped back, giving her space to breathe.
The wind calmed when she calmed, but Wilhelm was more ashamed than he was relieved. He’d never once manhandled a woman, and if she still had eyes to see, Lady Ayleth would have been mortified by his rudeness. He took meager comfort in thefact that if he’d not taken Seren out of that city, she too would be lying six feet under, like Ayleth.
For his own part, the scent of smoke clinging to his leathers was enough to make him empty his guts, but he swallowed the bile that rose again and held his aplomb for the lady’s sake. Desperate to have her heed him, he said very gently, “M’lady?”
Seren peered up, blinking.
Her face, though filled with outrage, was as beautiful as he remembered. But, as livid as she might be, he recognized the sorrow nestled in her wintry eyes, and God’s bones… the sight of her suddenly discomfited him, because, in contrast, he was nothing more than a lumbering beast.
Even as far as Warkworth, he’d heard tales of men who were driven to duel over the Beauty of Blackwood, and he could easily see why. It was this aspect of her that he’d been so afraid would blind his brother. He’d been sorely afraid Giles would turn his heart against Warkworth and against vengeance if only for the grace of her smile, because, in truth, hers was a face that could inspire men to war.
Standing here, now, regarding her, he couldn’t help but remember the day they’d arrived in London so Giles could claim her as his bride—was that only three months ago?On that day Wilhelm had vowed to keep Lady Seren as far away from Warkworth as humanly possible. He’d called her a witch and he’d promised to thwart Giles at every turn, certain as he was that she was a spy for the King. And for all that ado about nothing, he stood here now, fully prepared to see the lady home. Only now that he’d witnessed her untempered emotion, he knew in his heart that she was innocent of her mother’s treachery. These sisters were all blameless, and one had lost her life to prove it.
Seren, too, might have met that fate. Now it was his duty to keep her safe. And yet, what a tricky web they’d spun. For, evennow, he was certain King Stephen had no inkling his brother had forsaken Seren to wed her younger sister; and he doubted Seren knew it either.
How could she possibly?Rosalynde and Giles were wed in secret, and even if their vassals suspected, none would defy their lord to divulge it. For better or worse, Seren must still believe she was betrothed to Giles, and Wilhelm wasn’t sure how much to reveal. “M’lady,” he said when she was calm enough to listen. “I swore an oath to find you and return you to Warkworth; this is what Imustdo.”
Her brows slanted. “To my intended?” she asked, and it took Wilhelm a full moment to respond. Though, in the end he decided it would be best if she thought he acted with authority.
“Aye,” he said gravely. “To your…intended.” But he cursed even the sound of that lie on his lips.
Seren’s brows collided.
On the day her sister quit London, she and Arwyn had spied Rosalynde in their mother’s crystal traveling with two men. She was so certain it was Giles de Vere, and some part of her had dared to believe Giles must be her sister’s champion. But it would seem Lord Giles still intended to honor his vows. But what if, after Seren denied him, he would feel compelled to return her to her mother? Or, worse. What ifhewere the very one her mother had sent to retrieve her?
Plainly, Giles couldn’t care one whit about her, else he’d have come to find her himself, instead of sending his bastard brother in his stead.
But, of course, he must have delivered Rose to Aldergh. Her sister wouldneverhave trusted him. Rosalynde would have kept herglamourspell and she would have allowed the King’s lackeys to continue believing her a hapless nun. Only then could shehave avoided their lechery and rest assured of their compliance. Men were generally faithless, were they not? Even her own father had discarded them so easily. But she remembered the undisguised look of hatred on Giles’s face as he’d regarded her mother in the King’s Hall and hope flared in her breast. “You said you were sent by my sister, Rose? Where is she?”
He made some frustrated sound, then, once again scratched at the back of his neck. “Warkworth,” he said, and, before Seren could speak another word to question him, he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, looking her straight in the eyes. It was impossible to think clearly while he gazed at her so compassionately, and to make matters worse, she found his voice, soft as a whisper, equally as disconcerting. Perhaps under different circumstances, Seren might have even considered him handsome, except for that razor-thin scar that parted his left brow.
“As God is my witness,” he said. “I am your servant.”
When she said naught, he continued. “I will see you safely to Warkworth. And once there, reunited with Rosalynde, you may decide for yourself where else you might go. I warrant my brother willnot keep you against your will.”
Seren lifted a brow. It was not her experience that any man should ever behave so honorably. In fact, over the past year she’d endured much at the hands of “honorable men”—a grope as she passed in the hall, a wandering eye, a crude gesture when it was certain no one was looking. Even Father Ersinius had cornered her inside the chapel at Llanthony, where God’s eyes were said to keep their keenest vigil. And yet, her sister Elspeth had, indeed, found herself a champion. If there was one, perhaps there could be two… and where there were two, might there be three?
It was as though Wilhelm read her mind. “There is no love lost betwixt my brother and your mother,” Wilhelm said.
Seren considered the verity of his words. “What about you?”
A hint of a cruel smile turned his lips. “I cannot lie. I wouldst put my hands around her throat if ever I could,” he confessed.
Seren sensed he spoke true, and if she’d also sensed he understood her grief, she now remembered why. He, too, had suffered a devastating loss—perhaps, even worse than hers, if only by measure, because his entire family was burned alive. And yet… she could not bring herself to trust him so blindly—nor was she prepared to dismiss his initial rudeness, tossing her willy-nilly over his horse.
Unfortunately, he was thrice her size. He didn’t have to win her consent. Nor, by the same token, must he say sweet things to sway her, she realized. If he were so inclined, there was naught she could do to prevent him from sweeping her away—not evenmagikcould stop him. It didn’t work quite that way, and considering how little time she’d had to study thegrimoire, thewitchwindhad come as a surprise.
Reminded of that, she peered up into the sky, noting the darkened horizon—lingering evidence of her temper. But, truly, never before in her life had she experienced such a tempest. She only knew about such things after reading theBook of Secrets. Tied to emotions, awitchwindwas essentially the inspiration of the world, inexorably linked to the soul of a witch. Just as somedewinescould use fire or water, astormwitchcould harness the wind, making use of its energies in much the same manner somedewinesused crystals, sunlight or moonlight. It was a powerful tool she had never anticipated using, and be that as it may, she didn’t know how to control it. And now that it was gone,hewas still here… waiting patiently for her to speak.
“What say you? Will you come willingly?”
Willingly?
Nay.But neither would she fight him. Seren could scarce consider anything at the moment, much less where to go or what to do. As for Warkworth and its odiouslord, she had nointention of wedding that poppet, but the closer she ventured to Aldergh, the easier would be her journey to Aldergh. And, perhaps after all, if Wilhelm spoke true, Giles might be persuaded to escort her a little further north.
With canny eyes, she studied the giant who’d spirited her out of the harbor. Wilhelm Fitz Richard was easily the brawniest fellow she’d ever laid eyes upon, and yet for all his size, he hadn’t actually harmed her, nor did she sense he was inclined to. His face, scarred though it might be, betrayed not a trace of enmity or even disgust for her witchery, and now that they were away from the harbor and she was calmer, he made no additional attempt to restrain her. Alas, she wouldn’t call him a champion, but in the end he might do. And yet, be that as it may, she couldn’t leave Jack in that city, not when she knew he hadn’t any place to go. His mother lived in Calais; and thanks to her mother, his father was dead.
