Page 89 of My Hero
Elspeth pursed her lips. It wasn’t exactly the response she’d hoped for, but it would serve. If the lass couldn’t govern her heart, at least she had two friends who would guard her reputation.
After Lord Philip’s hasty departure with the Abbot, Garth’s attempts at chastity succeeded about as well as a fish’s attempts at flight.
The very next night Cynthia cornered him in the herb cellar and had her way with him. He blamed himself, claiming a momentary lapse of judgment on his part.
The night after that she lured him to the stables, and in a moment of weakness, he conceded to her lusty wishes.
The following afternoon, she surprised him at his bath, and since he was already disrobed…
By the fourth night, he abandoned all excuse and accepted the fact that if it was Cynthia’s will that he revel in her, then there wasn’t a blessed thing he could do to prevent it.
It was the beginning of the most magical summer Garth could remember. For nearly a dozen glorious weeks, Cynthia filled his life with more color and joy than all her beds of flowers, delighting him, surprising him, fulfilling him. No corner of the keep was safe from their passion—the solar, the dovecote, the wine cellar. And if he preached chastity on Sunday and trysted with Cynthia the rest of the week, it was his own private sin for which he’d pay…later.
For now he wanted to wring every last drop of bliss from what bit of summer remained.
But they had to be cautious. There were those, including the Abbot and the king, who might judge them harshly, those who believed solely in marriages of diplomatic convenience for such women as Lady Cynthia, and those who held to the practice of chastity without compromise for men of the cloth.
So they followed unspoken rules. They never met where they might be discovered. They displayed no public affection, not even a hand given in comfort. And they shared no confidences…with anyone. Above all else, Garth and Cynthia cared for their vassals. If they thought for one moment their actions might do harm to the people of Wendeville…
It was a hell’s ransom to pay for heaven. But he had no choice. If they revealed their love, the uncompromising Abbot would have Garth exiled from the church, and if that came to pass, what kind of future could he offer Cynthia? He wouldn’t fool himself. He’d spent the good part of his life in preparation for the priesthood. To be cast from his faith would leave him nowhere to turn.
And yet the alternative was just as unthinkable. If they kept their hearts secret, he knew that one day the impatient king would choose a suitable husband for Cynthia himself, a man to further Edward’s own political interests. And that would be the day Garth’s soul shriveled and died.
He clenched his fists, wishing he could tear asunder the images of the impossible future before them.
He visually measured the sun’s ascent above his sill. It had been nearly an hour since she’d left for her bathing pool—probably enough time—but he couldn’t be too careful.
Sometimes, though he no longer adhered to his vow of chastity and though he kept his faith, what he and Cynthia did felt like sin. If they were caught…
He didn’t want to think about it.
Still, he felt a twinge of trepidation as he glanced through the window toward the wood and the overgrown deer trail that marked the path to the pool.
She swore the place was private, that everyone knew that, and no one dared encroach on her summer bath. But that didn’t change the fact that the two of them would be out of doors, together, in broad sunlight, for the first time.
He’d tried to persuade her to stay with him in his chamber. But she’d pleaded with him relentlessly, tempting him with the delights of sunshine and green grass and refreshing water, flashing the smile that turned his knees to custard. He’d punished her with a growl and a fierce kiss, hauling her over his thigh and onto the bed, pinning her there. A thrill of pure animal lust had shivered every muscle in his body as he gazed at her. But she remained adamant.
He could have changed her mind in an instant—both of them knew it—with one strategic brush of his lips, one caress of his hand.
But he hadn’t.
And now he feared that fate would realize it had left them alone too long.
Cynthia shivered in spite of the strong midday sun as the water sluiced over her naked shoulders. It was a glorious day. At the north end of the wide pool, the stream babbled over the smooth pebbles and dove several feet, spreading with a gurgling sigh. The pool was clear as glass, so deep that the bottom was a green blur. Jewels of sunlight winked on the waves as the water circled and was siphoned once again at the opposite end into a rushing brook.
She wondered what was taking Garth so long. Sometimes his sense of propriety annoyed her. What they did—was it so wrong? Surely nothing so heavenly could be evil in God’s eyes. True, Garth was a man of the cloth. He had taken certain vows. But he wasn’t a monk anymore. Chaplains were allowed to take wives. Certainly this was not so different. As for her, why should the king care who she wed? She was hardly a virgin, and she couldn’t have cared less about rumors that might tarnish her reputation.
She tipped her head back, drenching her hair in the cold current that swirled around her. It was so peaceful here. She’d made the lovely spot her own domain. No one ever intruded upon her. The only other visitors she had were birds, squirrels, frogs, an occasional fox that skittishly drank at the pool’s edge, and fish that nibbled at her toes. It was a perfect haven…and the perfect place to tell Garth the happy news.
She smiled and rubbed her palm over the slight swelling of her belly. Actually, it was scarcely noticeable. But she was certain that sometime after the new year, she and Garth would be blessed by their own child.
It had been sheer torture to keep it from Elspeth, to pretend to endure her monthly courses at the usual time when she’d missed three already. But she wanted Garth to be the first to know.
She wasn’t sure how he’d respond.
Over the last three months, she’d seen Garth come back to life. She’d heard him laugh long and loud, nearly fainted at his whispered words of desire, reveled in the music of their joined souls when not a word was spoken between them.
She’d learned all there was to know about Garth de Ware and his family. She smiled now, recalling the tales he’d told her of his illustrious brothers.
