Rhys had moved beyond merely embracing her to kissing every piece of flesh his lips could come into contact with. “Radcliffe found me,” he whispered in between heated kisses. “He has risked much to reunite us.”
Elizabeau burst into fresh tears, turning to look at Radcliffe even as Rhys smothered the left side of her head with kisses. “Edward,” she sobbed softly. “You did this for me? God knows I can never repay you.”
Edward wiped the tears from his cheeks, smiling. “You have already paid this debt a thousand times over, my lady,” he said quietly. “Your kindness and friendship has.”
She smiled at him through her tears, turning back to Rhys as the man suckled her lips furiously. She responded with enthusiasm until she finally had to pull away and take a breath.
“They are going to kill me,” she murmured as his lips suckled her jaw. “My uncle sent an execution order.”
“I know,” he replied, mouth against her flesh. “I have come to get you out of here.”
“But how?”
“All in good time, angel.”
She didn’t ask any more questions; Rhys was a brilliant man and she knew he already had a plan in place to effectuate her escape. It was an answer to prayer; days upon days of asking for God’s good grace. Somewhere, somehow, He had listened to her. She found it rather surprising because He had never listened to her before. Yet she would not question Him; she could only be deeply grateful for His mercy. So she held on to Rhys, arms wrapped around his head, allowing herself to feel the joy and thrill and love she had for the man. She still could not believe that he was in her arms.
“I am so glad to see you.” Nose in his neck, she inhaled his musky scent for the first time in ages and relished the comforting fragrance. “I’ve missed you more than I could bear.”
He tried not to squeeze too tightly and crush her. “And I, you,” he murmured. “I never knew it was possible to ache for someone as badly as I ached for you.”
She clung to him, beyond words for the moment. But eventually her hands found his long, dirty hair and she pulled her face from the crook of his neck, inspecting the inky strands.
“Why is your hair so long?” she demanded softly, sounding like a disapproving wife. Then she looked at his face, his beard. “Why do you look like a madman?”
He grinned, his straight white teeth gleaming in the darkness. “I was mad,” he muttered, kissing her in between sentences. “I’ve been mad every day for the past three months without you.”
“But you are so… hairy,” she pulled back farther to inspect him as if just seeing him for the first time. He was broader than she remembered, too. “And big. What on earth have you been doing?”
“It would take too long to explain. Suffice it to say that I am here, I am real, and I will get you out of this place, I swear it.”
Her gaze moved to his face again; it was still Rhys, still with the same brilliant blue eyes and chiseled features. But the coating of dark hair was deeply masculine, wild, and she wasn’t entirely displeased by it. Still, she liked him better when he wasn’t covered up by so much hair. He had such a beautiful face that did not need to be covered up. Running her hands over his beard, she giggled.
“It is scratchy,” she commented, watching him laugh in response. “I do not think I like it. It feels like sand.”
He laughed again. He could have laughed all night. But his joy was short lived when Edward stepped towards them, holding out his hands in a quelling gesture.
“You must keep quiet,” he begged softly. “We do not want the guards outside to hear this. Moreover, we must make plans and there is little time left.”
Rhys settled down, knowing he was right. But it did not prevent him from unwinding one of his arms from Elizabeau’s body and placing his hand against her belly. When he felt the firm roundness beneath his palm, he almost dissolved into tears again. Elizabeau watched his face, putting her hand over his as he took his first feel of their child. There was such reverence in his touch that it took her breath away.
“Edward told you,” she whispered.
Rhys nodded, his brilliant blue eyes finding hers and a thousand unspoken words pouring forth. He just stared at her for a moment. “He says you have not been feeling well.”
She shrugged. “It is of no concern, truly. Besides; I have never felt better than I do at this very moment. You are a miraculous cure to what ails me.”
Smiling, he kissed her again and went to the chair nearest the hearth, setting her gently it in. He treated her like a piece of fragile glass, as if she were going to break at any second. Then he stood next to her, holding her hand tightly and gathering his thoughts. Edward pulled up a small stool and deposited his bulk. As the fire popped, they huddled in close quarters.