Medieval Master Swordsmen(46)

“The lady was upset about her impending future, my lord,” Rhys said honestly. “As you know, she tends to become overly emotional. What you saw were my attempts to comfort her.”

Christopher’s nostrils flared, not a good sign. David even stood up, moving closer to Rhys in case his brother decided to physically demonstrate his frustration. They all knew that Christopher was angry; he had every right to be. Now was the time for total truth from Rhys or the situation would go from bad to worse.

“You have never lied to me and I do not expect you to start now,” Christopher said after a moment. “But know this, du Bois; I had been watching you and the lady for several minutes before you saw me. I saw you embrace her quite intimately on a few occasions and I clearly did not imagine the tender expressions that passed between you. I believe there was even a kiss at some point. I will not permit you to tell me that nothing has transpired between you and Lady Elizabeau. You will tell me the entire truth now.”

Rhys gazed steadily at him. After a moment, he took a long, heavy breath and lowered his gaze in defeat. “The lady and I have professed our love to one another,” he said quietly. “It only happened today and we are both quite clear on the fact that it can go no further. We both understand her destiny and pledge to fulfill it. She is upset because she is my mission; that is all she can ever be.”

“You have not compromised her in any way?”

“I swear on my life that I have not.”

Christopher seemed to calm somewhat. He looked at Rhys, studying the man, attempting to discern if he was being totally truthful with him. But he had known Rhys du Bois for eight years and had never known him to be anything other than the perfect knight. But even men of perfection were allowed a weakness now and again. After a moment, he emitted a blustery sigh and moved to the nearest bench. He lowered his bulk wearily.

“That is what the lady told me, more or less,” he removed his gauntlets and scratched at his forehead. “However, she took it one step further; she told me that she cannot go through with this marriage. As of now, she refuses to go to Ogmore and marry her prince. I cannot force her. This, unfortunately, creates a bit of a situation. If she truly refuses, then our resistance against King John is at an end. England will be resigned to her fate and there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it. Our quest for a better king and country is over.”

Rhys stared at him for several long moments, knowing that this was his fault. “I have failed you, my lord,” he said quietly. “I took this mission with the utmost intention of performing flawlessly. Even now, I will complete it to the best of my abilities. If you want the lady to marry her prince, then let me talk to her. She will listen to me.”

De Lohr looked at him. “Rhys, she’s in love with you,” he said with more gentleness in his tone. “If anyone understands that, I do. I fell in love with a spitfire of a woman who has become my all for living. If I could not be with her, I would wither away and die. So, you see, I understand this situation all too well and perhaps that is why I am so frustrated. One cannot adequately fight a matter of the heart.”

Rhys felt strangely akin to de Lohr at the moment; finding a man who had known true love was rare. And he knew his frustration well; he had been feeling a good deal of it himself. But it didn’t change things.

“If you were facing this situation, my lord, what would you do?” he asked.

Christopher lifted an eyebrow. Then, he snorted. “Do you want an honest answer?”

Rhys nodded. “Put yourself in my position. If it was Lady Dustin destined to marry a prince and you were forced to escort her to this marriage that would change the course of a country, what would you do?”

Christopher was silent a moment, his sky-blue eyes staring off into the hearth as he lost himself in thought. He thought of his petite wife with an enormous mane of golden hair and eyes the color of storm clouds. “Complete my mission,” he said slowly. “And be miserable the rest of my life.”

“That is what I intend to do as well.”

De Lohr wiped a weary hand over his face, looking up at Rhys as he did so. There was something of doubt, anger and sorrow in his expression. “Of all my men, I would have never expected this to happen to you,” he said after a moment. “You are my rock, du Bois. But even rocks can crack. You did not fail me, lad. But you did surprise me.”

“I surprised myself, my lord.”

Over to their left, David snorted ironically. Even Lawrence smirked. Christopher glanced at his brother, his knight, before refocusing on Rhys. The mood of the room, now that understanding had settled, grew less heady.