Medieval Master Swordsmen(34)

“Rhys,” she said softly.

He paused and turned to look at her. “What is it?”

She paused before speaking, still staring down the road. “You and I have known each other exactly ten days,” she said quietly. “In that time, you have risked your life for me, protected me, fed me, and taken better care of me than anyone else ever has. And because of that, I have grown rather… fond of you.”

Her reply was completely off the subject and threw him off balance. But her words stirred something in him, something that gripped him with fear and hope. Yet he would not respond to her; he could not. He averted his gaze and stared at the ground, thinking he should probably just walk away but finding himself unable to do so.

Elizabeau turned her eyes to him. He was gazing at the ground, the grass, anything to keep from looking at her. Something inside her swelled and the words came pouring forth.

“You are a kind, decent and chivalrous knight and I have appreciated your dedication to me,” she said. “But during these past few days, I have also come to know something of you as a man. You like to tease me and you’re as stubborn as an ox. And I know you like to laugh at me when I am angry with you; I’ve seen it. You think that I do not know when you are laughing at me, but I do, and it endears you to me all the more. I’ve come to think of you as a friend, Rhys, a very dear friend, someone that I, too, would protect and care for.”

She saw his eyes close tightly, as if to ward off her words, and she was stung. Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes although she knew not why. All she knew was that there was more emotion inside of her at that moment than she had ever experienced in her life. He had to know all of it.

“What I am attempting to say but am inadequately doing so is that I know about your wife and how she treated you, and I am sorry it hurts you when I have spoken of her,” she stood up from the stump, wiping furiously at the tears that spilled over. “I do not mean to hurt you but I feel such a bond with you that somehow I have given myself the right to know all about you on a personal level because that is where my interest lies. You’re such a fine man, Rhys, and you deserve so much better than what life has apparently brought you and I am truly sorry if I have invaded your privacy to satisfy my curiosity. I am sorry that in eleven days I will go to Ogmore Castle and will never see you again because you have shown me more understanding and companionship than I ever knew existed.”

She was shaking by the time she finished her rambling speech. Rhys’s face remained parallel with the ground, but his jaw was ticking furiously. He still had not opened his eyes. The air between them was thick with emotion, anticipation, and after a moment, he let out a heavy sigh.

“It was in the line of duty, my lady. I did what I was ordered to do.”

He might as well have hit her in the gut; it would have caused less pain. She did, in fact, suck in her breath at the impact of his words. Turning swiftly away from him, she plopped back down on the stump and struggled not to sob. She had no idea why she had said all of those things. All she knew was that she had, and he was deeply offended.

They hovered together in silence for the longest time. Birds flew overhead and dogs barked in the distance, but still, they remained silent with each other. Elizabeau’s tears flowed silently, creating dark spots on the top of her pale green surcoat. She made no further move to try and wipe them away; she didn’t want him to see her wipe at her face and know that she was still weeping.

“Let’s go inside,” he said hoarsely. “Come along.”

She shook her head violently and stumbled off the stump. “For Pity’s sake, du Bois, leave me alone,” she hissed, walking unsteadily towards the road. “Go away and leave me be.”

He watched her stagger, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. She had said everything he had been feeling only she had been brave enough to speak it. She had risked all and was now struggling with the result. All he could do was hide behind his sense of duty and blame his knighthood for his chivalrous reserve. But the truth was that he hadn’t the courage to say anything to her. He was afraid that once he opened the door, he would never be able to shut it and it would doom him forever.

He continued to watch her as she came to an uneven halt, standing beside the dirt road and surrounded by a patch of heavy green clover. She was several feet away, her long torso and feminine curves evident beneath the pale green surcoat. The longer he stood there and looked at her, the more his heart ached.

“Please, Elizabeau,” he pleaded softly. “Come inside with me. We will speak no more of this.”