Page 46 of Knight of Darkness
He watched her nod whilst a small smile lit her features. “Yes, ’tis that matter that I wished to discuss. We both know ’tis well past time for you to return home and put your estate back in order,” she declared as though she were saying farewell.
“And to find out the whereabouts of my brothers,” he added.
“Aye, of course. Mayhap they will be in London attending our Empress as she prepares for her coronation.”
“Perchance.”
“’Tis on the way, is it not?” she asked whilst smoothing the linen of her gown. “Your home, that is.”
“Aye, farther to the west.” He watched as another tear escaped down her cheek. He knew what she was not saying. She was indeed somehow trying to bid him farewell. “You could come with me,” he offered as though he could change her mind.
A sob caught in her throat before she finally turned to face him. “I cannot.”
“Because of your duties here at Norwich?” Wymar watched her nod. “Certainly, your captain is more than capable of watching over things until the land heals and crops can be planted again.”
“That is not the only reason why I cannot go, Norwood,” she murmured so softly he needed to lean forward to hear her words. He rested his arms on his thighs, close enough to reach out to touch her if she would let him.
“What other reason could there be? I thought you and I had come to an understanding that night in the forest. Was I mistaken?” he asked, afraid of her answer.
“You know that is not the reason why I cannot accompany you.”
“Then what is? Do you honestly think I could ever forget you after such a night?”
“I will never forget you, Wymar, but you must needs find yourself a wife who will be worthy of becoming the lady of your hall. Not someone who feels soiled by another.”
She cast her eyes downward and suddenly Wymar guessed the truth of the matter. “Ratcliff? Did he touch you?” he asked, wondering what that bastard had done to his lady. If the man were not already dead, Wymar would have taken great pleasure in torturing him for such an insult.
“Nay, not physically as you and I shared, but ’twas still bad enough to leave a foul memory I cannot yet seem to shake. ’Tis the mental abuse that still consumes me, especially having to listen to the joy in his voice whilst he constantly described my father’s death. He wore me down day after day by telling me what he would do to me once we were wed. His patience was beginning to wear thin because he began touching me more often, although he did not go so far as…”
Her words fell off when she placed her elbows on her legs and covered her face. Her crying tore at his soul and made him want to vent his fury on the gutless bastard who had caused it, but Ratcliff was beyond his punishment now. And besides, now was not the time to let his anger over what could not be changed interfere with how he still felt for this woman.
“Ceridwen… whatever happened with him does not make any difference about my feelings for you,” he said honestly.
“But it matters to me!” she shouted with such a hopeless tone the sound tore at his own heart. “I cannot be with you, or any other man for that matter right now, until I can find myself again. I have never been a weak woman and always stood up to right a wrong. But that vile piece of fodder got the better of me by tormenting my mind! Every breath I take, every waking moment, every nightmare I have replays in my head as though he did in fact physically take me. Sometimes I feel as though I will go mad if someone so much as touches me.” She stood, squaring her shoulders as though making an attempt to get herself back in control. He rose from his chair. His audience with the Lady of Norwich was almost at an end.
“You need time to heal, my lady,” he said and his heart cracked to see the anguish reflected in her magnificent blue-green eyes. A physical wound he could help heal, but how did one go about fixing a problem inside another person’s head?
“And I cannot expect you to wait for someone who may take years to let go of what someone took away from her.”
“My offer for you to join me in Brockenhurst still stands whenever you may be ready,” he said walking her toward the door.
Ceridwen turned back to face him. Hesitantly, she reached out and cupped his cheek. He felt her hand trembling as she rubbed her thumb across his skin. “You shall always own a piece of my heart, Wymar. For all time will I treasure that one moment when I was allowed to love.”
Before he could give any response, she quickly pulled open the door and left, taking with her what was left of his heart. Come the morn, he departed with his army, never once looking back at the castle and what could have been.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
London
April, 1141
Wymar sat inthe dimly lit tavern, a cool mug of ale in his hands. Earlier this day, his meeting with the Empress had not gone according to plan. With the usurper Stephen held at Bristol Castle, Matilda was petitioning the bishops of Westminster to crown her as Queen of England. So far, she had failed in her quest to win the crown but she still continued to push the issue along, ensuring her subjects bowed to her will. Wymar was no exception. Still…
Her edict left a sour taste in his mouth but what else could he do but obey her command? She had restored his title and his lands. With such an obligation, Wymar knew he must needs wed and produce an heir, as she had commanded. What he had not expected was for the Empress to have already picked out his bride.
Still reeling from Ceridwen’s rejection, how could he have known that his queen would be sending a bride for him to wed in the coming months? He was told to expect her. Nothing more. Even her name was denied him. She was just some nameless woman who would bear his children but who would never own his heart. It had already been given to a lady he would never see again.
His heart screamed that this would be a betrayal to the woman he loved, yet how could he reject the Empress’s demands? He was once more thrust into a situation he had no control over. He did not care for what was expected of him, but he would, as always, obey the demands of his sovereign. Bitter darkness once more glazed over his heart. He swore he would never let the light in again.
