Page 52 of Knight of Darkness
She placed her hand on his arm, rubbing the fabric of his tunic. “But I will be your wife in just a matter of days. Are you not happy we are at last to wed?”
He sighed, finished tightening the cinch, and once more turned to face her. “Beatrix…” he began as he watched her face light up with a smile. “We must needs talk privately when we return to the castle.”
“Of course, my love.” She gave him a seductive grin before leaning forward to place a kiss upon his cheek. “I am yours to command.”
She gave him no time to reply for she left him to mount her horse. Her laughter rang out in the forest as though she had not a care in the world. Wymar had the feeling she would not be laughing after they had their long overdue conversation.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ceridwen sat inawe as she took in the beauty before her. Richard had been so descriptive of the home he had visited for most of his youth that she had surely thought he had jested with her. But now, after coming out of the dense forest to see the castle sitting off in the distance, she understood his words to be correct.
To be sure, she could see that there was work aplenty to be done. The stone walls surrounding the keep were still in need of repair from the siege that befell it years ago. Richard had told her that Wymar had been in the process of repairing most of the inner buildings but at the very least the keep was livable with minor repairs still needed. And oh, but it was wonderful. The keep itself rose majestically at least six stories tall and Ceridwen could not wait to inspect every inch of the castle she would now call home. Her eyes traveled to the upper level of the keep where knights walked the parapets high above and four round turrets were situated at each corner along the battlements.
“I told you that you would like it, my lady,” Richard declared when he moved his steed next to her.
She turned in the saddle to face Wymar’s friend and gave him a bright smile. “Aye… you did indeed, Sir Richard. ’Tis just as magnificent as you described, mayhap more so.” She leaned an elbow on the pommel of the saddle to take a moment unto herself to continue her assessment of her future life that awaited her.
“The place still needs a lot of work, but I doubt not that Wymar will eventually see his home restored to all its former glory, even if it takes years,” Richard stated.
“I am certain the place will be glorious,” she murmured.
“And was I not also correct when I thought you would enjoy the view more from a saddle than the wagon the Empress sent for you?”
Ceridwen looked behind her. The wagon she was supposed to reside in had been quite lavish with fluffy goose feathered pillows, blankets, and silk overhangings to keep the sun from her face. The Empress had indeed ensured Ceridwen had every imaginable comfort for her long journey to her new home. ’Twas what any woman would wish to arrive in, and it befitted her station in life. But such a mode of transportation was not for her. She gave a brief glance down at her attire, knowing Wymar would not care if she arrived riding Defiance and wearing the clothes of a young knight that she had originally met him in. She had plenty of gowns packed in her trunk to change into when she took her rightful place at Wymar’s side as his lady.
She gave a short nod to Symond and Thomas before returning her attention back toward her future. Her future with Wymar. “’Tis a good thing I did not accept the wager you proposed. My purse would be much lighter if I had done so,” she said with humor laced in her tone.
Richard chuckled. “’Twas a sure bet but I am a bit sorry for the loss of extra coin that would have lined my purse. The look on your face when you saw Brockenhurst was more than enough to know I was right. Shall we?” he asked waving his hand toward the castle in invitation.
“Aye,” she said taking up the leather reins once more. “I am most anxious to see Wymar.”
With a press of her heel into her horse’s side, they were off. The closer she came to the remains of the barbican gate the more anxious she became. All she wanted to do was run to Wymar’s side and leave the past behind them. A knight standing guard gave Richard a salute and waved their party forward.
Entering the outer bailey, she quickly slid from her saddle to the ground before tossing her reins to a stable lad who came forward to take her horse. “See that she is rubbed down and taken care of. My steed has served me well during our travels,” she instructed whilst taking off her gloves and looping them into her belt.
Ceridwen and Richard had begun making their way toward the front steps when the front door opened. Reynard had a moment of surprise etched upon his face before he quickly recovered and offered her a wide smile and a bow.
“Lady Ceridwen. What a pleasure to see you again,” the young man offered as he rose.
She gave a light laugh. “I would have thought Wymar would be expecting my arrival,” she mused aloud, looking around Reynard to see if Wymar would also welcome her.
“My brother is in his solar… discussing business,” he said. His eyes narrowed toward Richard. There was an expression on his face that she could not quite understand. It almost looked like… warning?
“I cannot wait to see him,” Ceridwen replied. “Which floor? I am certain I can locate him on my own whilst you two discuss what you have missed with one another.”
Richard chuckled. “Take the first turret once you enter the great hall on the left. Third floor. Fifth door on the right.”
Ceridwen nodded her thanks and left the men.
“You dolt!” Reynard bellowed toward Richard. “There is much to be discussed. You do not know what you have—” That was all that she heard before her quick steps took her out of earshot.
Ceridwen gave them no further thought whilst she went in search of her betrothed. She could barely contain herself with thoughts of being held once more in Wymar’s arms.
*
Wymar poured achalice of wine and offered the cup to Beatrix. He was not looking forward to their conversation. The woman before him was the beloved sister of his best friend, and he had always viewed her as nearly a sister to himself, as well. He did not wish to hurt her feelings, but Wymar did not return her affection in the way that she clearly wished him to and it was time he made that clear. There would be no wedding. He could easily forgive the falsehood she told him about being his intended bride. She was young and used to getting whatever she wished. However, it was not his place to indulge her, particularly when following along with her plan would mean going against the Empress’s dictates.
“Let us sit by the fire, Beatrix,” he said waving toward one of the chairs near the hearth.
