“Why does he want a weapon?”
Myles sighed heavily, toying with his cup. “I am not sure if he feels the need to protect himself or the need to commit murder. He seems to think that you and Lady Cantia are conspiring to take Rochester from him. He further blames you for Brac’s death.”
Tevin scratched his head, absorbing the information. “His lunacy grows,” he insisted. “I suspect the man needs to be locked in the vault for his own protection as well as the lady’s. I do not need the added element of a madman running amuck at Rochester, not when there is much else that requires my attention.”
“Agreed,” Myles said. “Would you have me corral him, my lord?”
Tevin shook his head. “You should not be the one to arrest your liege. My men will do it.”
Myles downed the last of his wine. He found that his fatigue was catching up with him. “Shall I shadow the lady until Charles can be put away?”
“Nay,” Tevin said. “You have enough to do with the command of Rochester. I shall make sure the lady is well protected until Charles can be caged.”
“Very good, my lord. If there is nothing else, I shall retire for a time.”
Tevin waved him off, mulling over the conversation as Myles quit the hall. He thought to find Sir Dagan and order the imprisonment of Charles Penden until the man could get himself under control, but as he rose from the bench, Lady Penden passed within his line of sight, emerging from the solar and mounting the steps to the upper floors. A second later, Hunt and the big yellow dog also emerged and ran after her. He could hear the dog barks echo in the stairwell.
Now he was thinking on Cantia again. With a sigh of frustration, mostly at himself, he went about his business.
*
Charles Penden, as suspected, did not react well to being imprisoned. He shouted conspiracy and murder as Dagan and Gavril practically carried him to the gatehouse, dragging him down the narrow steps and incarcerating him in the bottle prison. The name of the prison was derived from the shape of the cell. The door was in the ceiling and the room was literally shaped like a bottle; wide at the bottom and narrowed up towards the top. It was virtually impossible to escape from. They left Charles screaming at the bottom of it.
They stood over the cell, looking into the hole that showed Charles at the bottom. The man was distraught, incoherently shouting. The two knights shook their heads.
“Crazy man,” Dagan growled.
Gavril nodded in agreement. Shorter and darker than his cousin, he was also the oldest man in the viscount’s service at nearly forty years of age. He had seen much, done much. He did not have much patience for a mad baron.
“We’ve duties on the wall,” he told his cousin. “Come along now. Let’s leave the baron to his hell.”
When they began to move, Charles started yelling louder. “Wait!” he called. “Wait, I say! Do not leave me here alone!”
Dagan called down to him. “Cease your struggles, baron,” he advised. “A show of sanity may very well see you released.”
Charles was trying to climb up the sides of the prison, only managing a few feet before sliding back down to the floor. “Release me and you shall be well rewarded,” he clawed into the brick so hard that his fingers came away bloodied. “Let me out of here and I shall give you all that I have. Let me out!”
Gavril shook his head, jabbing his finger in Dagan’s arm to prompt the man to follow him. But Dagan was finding a weird fascination out of watching Charles struggle.
“This is what I mean, baron,” he said. “You sound like a madman. Calm yourself and the viscount may take pity on you.”
Charles had stopped trying to scale the walls. He sat at the bottom of the pit, gazing up into the only opening that provided both light and air.
“Release me and I shall give you the lady and her dowry,” he offered, though there was defeat in his tone. “She came to my son with a large dowry. Release me and I shall give it, and her, to you. You could live like a king.”
“I’m sure I could,” Dagan said with mock patience. “And whereby would you get the power to do such a thing?”
“She belongs to me now.” Spit flew from Charles’ lips as he spoke. “She and the boy are mine, to do with as I please. Release me and I give her to you.”
Gavril continued to walk away, up the steps that led to the gatehouse. But Dagan stood there a moment, looking down at the crazed baron and entertaining possibilities that he just as quickly chased away. A madman’s desperate plea, he told himself. But he had seen the lady and she was quite lovely. An interesting thought, but not a realistic one. ’Twas a madman’s desperate plea.
He followed his cousin from the vault.
CHAPTER SIX
The next two weeks passed in relative peace. Charles stayed in the vault, which gave Tevin one less worry. Val was up and about, having been moved by Cantia to the third floor of the keep now that she was able to maneuver the stairs, and life in general seemed to be settling down for the first time since the death of Brac Penden. For the most part, there had been no more battles for the bridge, though a week after Brac’s death there had been a minor skirmish. Tevin and his knights had ridden to battle, but the enemy had quickly fled and the scuffle was over almost before it began. After that, it was eerily peaceful. Tevin couldn’t decide if he was grateful or suspicious.
He kept telling himself that he needed to stay at Rochester due to its close proximity to the bridge. It was the same story he told everyone. But two weeks after Brac’s death, with the country relatively quiet, that excuse wasn’t holding much weight. Truth be told, Tevin didn’t want to leave. He was coming to be comfortable here and more than that, he did not like the thought of leaving Cantia. In fact, it was almost a desperate situation.
Since the day that Charles struck her, she had kept her distance from him. He had seen her daily, ate with her almost every night in the great hall, but she was silent and reserved around him. It was almost as if she were afraid of him somehow. Yet when she was with Val, she would relax and smile and laugh. He was coming to feel very jealous that his sister could elicit such a reaction from the lovely lady. It made him more determined than ever not to leave Rochester. For some reason, it was becoming a fascination with him. He did not want to leave her and he could not clearly discern why.
On the morning of the first day of the new month, Tevin and a few of his men escorted Cantia to mass at the massive cathedral in the village. Val tried to suit up in her armor, but it was still too painful for her, so Cantia had loaned her a soft linen sheath and yellow surcoat. With her flowing reddish gold hair, she made a striking picture.
It was a cool day, with puffy white clouds riding the gentle breezes. The sky was as brilliant as any of them had ever seen it and even though it was close to winter, there were birds about. It seemed that every living creature was determined to enjoy the day, including Cantia. She finally felt as if she was finally emerging from her destructive grief and a day like today was not only welcome, it was necessary. She needed to feel strong again.
The colossal cathedral loomed before them. Though it was not unexpected, the sight threatened to bring back memories of Brac’s funeral, but Cantia fought them. She would not allow herself to digress, not when her new-found strength was so hard won. As they entered the cavernous, cool sanctuary of Rochester Cathedral, Tevin spoke softly to Cantia as she walked past him.
“I am at your mercy, my lady,” he said quietly.
She paused to look at him, her lavender eyes filled with curiosity. “What do you mean, my lord?”
Tevin nodded his head in the direction of his sister, now entering the cathedral in the company of Simon and Myles. “You have done what no one has yet been able to accomplish,” he said. “You convinced my sister to dress in feminine garments.”
Cantia grinned, watching Val move stiffly across the cathedral floor. “It wasn’t difficult, I assure you. She cannot wear anything with weight or restriction right now. It is a matter of pure comfort
.”
It was as much of a conversation as they had had for a week. He intended to keep it going. “Comfort or not, I promised that I would be in your debt if you were to accomplish such a thing. How can I repay you?”
Her grin broadened and she lowered her gaze. “You were so kind and thoughtful after my husband’s death that I felt I owed you a great deal. I’ve done nothing at all for Val, in spite of what you say, but if you like, I will call our scores even.”
Tevin extended an elbow to her, meaning to escort her into the church. He held his breath as she looked at the arm, perhaps thought to refuse, but reconsidered. He could feel her warm hand through the linen of his tunic. It was a marvelous feeling.
“Whatever I may have done for you upon Brac’s passing was my duty,” he said quietly. His voice was naturally very deep and booming and he did not want it echoing off the walls of the great stone church. “What you have done for Val is not. I have not seen my sister so light of mood in quite some time. She enjoys spending time with you.”
“And I, her,” Cantia replied. “She has become my friend.”
“I know she feels the same about you.”
“Then may speak boldly?”
“Of course.”
Cantia came to a halt, her eyes on Val in the distance, standing with Simon, Myles, and now John. “Your sister is far too lovely to be a warrior. You must find her a husband.”
Tevin glanced over his shoulder at his sister, a dark eyebrow raised. “I have said the very same thing to her many times. She had no interest in a husband. Besides, who wants to marry a woman that can lick you in a fight?”
In spite of herself, Cantia giggled. Tevin had the joy of being the one to cause it. She had a big dimple in her left cheek, something he found captivating. Even her teeth were pretty, straight and white. The more he saw of her, the more he wanted.
“Surely there is a man who will appreciate her for who she is,” Cantia said. “Why, look at Myles. Do you know that he has spent a great deal of time with her?”
“De Lohr?” Tevin snorted. “He has known Val for years. He considers her a fellow warrior.”
Cantia lifted a knowing eyebrow. “Does he? I wonder.”
Her comment made Tevin turn and stare hard at the tall knight with the shoulder length blond hair. “Why do you say that? What do you know that I do not?”
Cantia shook her head. “Nothing in particular. Call it a feeling.”
He looked at her. “What kind of a feeling?”
“That Myles would perhaps like his association with Val to be something more. Perhaps it already is something more.”
Tevin looked at her as if she had gone mad. “What on earth would make you say that?”
Cantia’s gaze moved to Val and Myles, talking softly between them. “I do not know for certain. Perhaps it is the way he looks at her. He looks at her with such… longing and hope.”
He snorted. “I look at you the same way, though no one can say there is anything more between us than propriety allows.” Appalled that, in trying to prove his point, he had said what he was thinking, he hastened to change the subject. “Speaking of my sister, I understand that Rochester has a large merchant district. I would be grateful if you would help my sister select material for a few feminine garments. She knows very few women of taste and culture that would offer such assistance.”
Cantia was staring at him, still lingering on his earlier words. I look at you the same way. Did he really? She had spent many days attempting to avoid him, allowing only necessary contact, but still, she had been unable to shake the sensations his presence gave her. Her affection was still Brac’s. That would probably never change. But in a completely different context, Tevin brought something into her heart and mind that she could not define. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, her limbs grew warm and shaky when he came near.
Even now, she held his elbow and relished the feel of it. Once, she had felt the same thing with Brac, but those days had vanished long before his death. What remained between them was warm comfort and little more. The fires of impetuous passion had banked long ago. What she felt when Tevin came around was like lightning bolts.
Lost to her thoughts, she realized he was looking for an answer. “I would be honored, if that is Val’s wish.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed at him. “You’re not going to force her, are you?”
He shook his head, pursing his lips so that the massive dimples in each cheek carved deep ruts, disappearing into the well-manicured beard on his jaw line. “I will not force her, but you could do me a favor and make the gentle suggestion. She may take it better from you than from me.”
She nodded, her gaze again moving to Val, who was now gazing up into Myles’ face with a serene, interested expression. Cantia tipped her head in Val’s direction. “Look at your sister,” she said knowingly. “See the expression on her face when she looks at Myles? She feels something for him. I can see it.”
“I think you are imagining things.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Is that so?” she was forced to contradict him. “And just what would you think if I looked at you like that? You would think I was a silly, besotted girl.”
Tevin’s dark gaze moved to his sister several feet away. “I would think that I was the most fortunate man alive.”
Cantia suddenly couldn’t breathe. She had asked the question to prove her point of a potential romance between Val and Myles. She wasn’t hunting for a personal response from Tevin. She yanked her hand from his elbow but he reclaimed it firmly, tucking it into the crook and holding it fast with his free hand. He was without his armor this day and he wore no gloves. His flesh against hers was the sweetest thing he could have imagined.
“Nay, lady, you’ll keep your hand right here,” his voice was hardly above a whisper. “You’ve ignored me for days and I’ll not let you retreat again.”
Cantia’s heart was thumping madly against her ribs. Tears sprang to her eyes and she lowered her head so he wouldn’t see. There was such confusion in her mind, such exhilaration and such guilt. She didn’t know what to think.
Tevin looked down at her lowered head. “Surely you’ve sensed that my interest in you goes beyond normal concern,” he said quietly.
A lone tear trickled down her cheek. He saw it. Not wanting her to burst into tears in front of everyone, he led her to a small alcove off the main sanctuary where hundreds of tallow prayer candles burned. It was out of eyeshot and earshot as he faced her.
The room was warm and glowing, giving her beauty an even more ethereal look. His thumbs came up to wipe away the tear, but more followed and he found himself fighting off a flood.
“I am sorry to make you weep,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know why I said that. I should not have. Forgive me.”
She shook her head, wiping at her face. “There is nothing to forgive,” she whispered. “I simply do not know what to say.”
“Say nothing,” he told her. “I will never say anything so bold to you again. It was wrong of me.”
He started to leave but she put her hand on his arm, stopping him. “Nay, do not go,” she whispered. “I did not mean it the way it sounded. I simply meant that I wish I could say the same thing to you.”
He patted her hand. “You are a truthful woman. You will not say what you do not feel simply to gratify me. I respect that.”
“Nay,” she said, more strongly. The lavender eyes gazed up at him. “You do not understand. I would say the same to you, my lord, only… only I cannot possibly say it because my husband is barely cold in his grave and to do so would be wrong. If I were to tell you that your presence brings me more comfort than you can possibly know, then it would sound as if I am merely saying so because I just lost my husband and am desperate to find someone to cling to. I do not know myself if that is the case. But I do know one thing; I respect you far too much to treat you so carelessly.”
He looked down at her. His gentle expression turned into something of regret. “I can see that my exten
ded presence at Rochester has only brought you more pain,” he said. “To stay any longer would only bring us both anguish.”
“Why?”
He suddenly took her face between his two massive hands. He had the biggest hands of any man alive.
“Because I stay only to be near you,” he whispered emotionally. “But I fear my presence has been selfish. I’ve not thought of the effect it might have on you. You need to come to terms with your grief over Brac before you can move on with your life. I fear I have added to your burden more than I realized and for that, you must forgive me. I have been horribly selfish. You are such a sweet, pretty thing. I simply wanted to be near you.”
Cantia closed her eyes to his touch. His hands were powerful and warm, something so different than what she had ever experienced with Brac. It was wrong, she knew it, but she didn’t care at the moment. She found herself leaning into his grip, rubbing her cheek against his rough palm. It was instinctive, flesh against flesh, feeling something she had not felt in ages.
Tevin’s hands moved from her cheeks and into her hair. He could hardly believe she was responding to him but he wasn’t about to question it. It was selfish of him but he did not care. Now that he had her, he knew what he wanted to do. Without any further words, he guided her sweet lips to his mouth for a kiss.
It was tentative at first, as if both of them knew the wrongness of what they were doing. But the moment he tasted her, a ferocious passion took over and he pulled her to him so forcefully that he drove his teeth into her soft upper lip. He tasted her blood along with the sweetness of her flesh and it drove him wild. He tongue probed deep into her mouth, gorging himself on something he had never before known.
He licked and suckled, bit and kissed. Through it all, Cantia was collapsed against him as if rendered boneless by his touch. She let him ravage her, forgetting her guilt and confusion for the moment. What she was experiencing with him, was no bad reflection on Brac, was something she had never before felt. Brac had been like the warmth of the afternoon sun. Tevin was like the scorch from the fires of hell.