Page 98 of Raven's Rise
Then, she sank to her knees in front of the altar. The candles cast steady, gold beams of light into the space. She bent her head and closed her eyes, praying silently. The rote Latin took only a moment, leaving her mind to wander. Angelet often spoke to Mary, using French or even English as the words came to her. For years, these one-sided conversations were her only safe way to pour out her sorrow and her worry. She always asked Mary and her army of saints to watch over young Henry, who Otto had so deftly snatched away from Angelet. She prayed for her distant family, wondering where they were and how they fared, and why no word from them ever reached her. Most of all, she prayed for an end to the royal squabble that affected her life along with so many others.
This night, however, her words had a different subject. She prayed for Rafe, who seemed so tangled up and unhappy with everything. She hoped he could at last reconcile with the friends who he obviously missed, though he pretended not to. Alric insisted more than once that he had forgiven Rafe. But Rafe had yet to forgive himself. Angelet wished she could help—her fingers threaded together as she tried to think of any way to do it. But she was a near stranger, and she barely knew these people or the events that had occurred years ago. What could she possibly do to help? She wasn’t sure if her help would even be wanted.
And now he was talking with Rainald de Vere himself. Was he learning something that would make his life even more difficult?
“Just…take away a little of his pain,” she whispered. “Give it to me, if someone must bear it. I don’t mind.” Whether Mary would hear her words, Angelet didn’t know. Father Mark once warned her of the futility in demanding a response from prayer. Silence was an answer in itself.
As she knelt there, her head bowed, she sensed someone else enter the church behind her. She turned, and saw Rafe standing just inside the doorway, dressed in dark clothing, as always. And he was still so arrestingly handsome. She should stop being dazzled by this point, but she realized that would never happen. She delighted in looking at him, for looking at something beautiful ought to delight.
And he was smiling, making him even more attractive. She rose to her feet as he closed the distance between them.
“Angelet, I have to tell someone,” he said, his voice holding a barely restrained excitement. He slid his arms around her waist and his body met hers, like a shield against the world.
“Rafe,” she whispered. Having him so close, after so long apart, affected her more than she could have guessed.
He looked her over, his expression growing tentative. “Can I…can I tell you? You might not care to hear anything I have to say, considering what I kept from you—”
“No! I want to hear. Please. You’ve had good news. It’s in your face. Tell me.”
Rafe looked a little stunned, but he smiled again. “May I introduce myself?”
“What?”
“Angelet, I have a name.” He took a breath, clearly bursting with joy. “I’m Raphael Corviser. My father was Sir Michael Corviser, and my mother was Lady Clare of Beaumont. And theyweremarried.”
She put her hands on his chest, and felt the beat of his heart underneath all the layers. She repeated, “Sir Raphael Corviser. The name fits you well.”
Rafe rambled out the whole story to her, probably just as de Vere told it to him.
At the end, she was smiling just as widely as he was. “Oh. Oh, Rafe. I’m so happy for you, to have finally learned your past.”
“I would have learned it earlier, if I hadn’t run.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Rafe. You did what made sense at the time. Your friends have forgiven you, and you have your life back. What more could you want?”
“You.” He kissed her.
Angelet’s lips parted as she responded to him. She’d been aching for this, to taste him again, ever since he’d touched her last.
“You missed this, too,” he said, pleased.
“Yes.” Her hands were all over him then, as if she’d forgotten what he felt like. She hadn’t forgotten at all, but she didn't mind relearning the shape of his body.
He bent to kiss her neck, and she stretched to allow him the best access.
“I’ve gone far too long without you,” he murmured. “I need you, sweetheart.”
“We can’t.”
He kissed her again, drawing out a gasp and the truth that she was just as aroused as he was. “We can. Come with me.”
“Now? Where?”
His lips were at her ear and his laugh sounded wicked. “Here.”
“This is a church!” she gasped.
“I’m aware of that.”
