Medieval Master Swordsmen(72)
“As I am wholly grateful as well,” he murmured. “But… but I find that every conviction I ever held about completing this mission is now shattered. If de Lohr were to come through that door at this moment and demand I turn you over, I would kill him. I truly would. You belong to none other but me and I will fight anyone who would try to take you away.”
Her face grew serious. “You cannot,” she whispered. “You said yourself that if we stay together, our life would be one of stress and fear. We would be running for the rest of our lives, destined for a life of pursuing enemies. We cannot live like that. You cannot live like that; you are a great knight, Rhys. You have a great life to fulfill. We both do.”
He stared at her, her words cutting into him like a knife. Now, the tables were turned and it was she who was comforting him. He had collapsed and she was strong. It was an odd switching of roles but not a surprising one; Rhys always knew that Elizabeau was inordinately strong. She had showed him that time and time again, and she was entirely correct. Now, he would have to depend on her to keep him strong.
He remembered thinking once, when he had first met her, that he’d made it a practice in life to stay clear of women in general. They could topple a man faster than the mightiest enemy and he’d seen it before. God help him, now he was the one being toppled. Now he understood why men did what they did when a woman was involved. Stiffly, he rose to his feet and kissed her on the forehead.
“I know,” he murmured, kissing her again and releasing her. He was afraid to say anymore, afraid he would run amuck. “I will finish dressing and go to my brother. We will wait for you downstairs.”
She patted his cheek. “As you say, darling,” she turned back to the bed, collecting her clothing where he had thrown it on the floor when he had ripped it from her body. “I shan’t be long.”
He didn’t say anything, pulling his boots on and proceeding with his armor. By the time he got to his breast plate, he required some help and she gave him silent assistance in finishing securing a few of the leather straps. When he finally picked up his helm and turned to look at her, she was smiling at him.
“You look like the man I first saw at Hyde House,” she said. “You were the biggest man I had ever seen. I was terrified of you only I would never let you know that.”
He smiled weakly. “You portrayed the exact opposite. In fact, you were quite combative.”
She put her fists up in front of her as if ready to box him. “Combative, was I? Now you’ve insulted me. Prepare to fight.”
He eyed her, rubbing his chin as he spoke. “Fighting you wasn’t what I had in mind.”
She lifted an eyebrow and put her fists to rest on her hips. “Is that so? Just what do you have in mind? And how do you know that I will not protest?”
He wriggled his eyebrows and turned for the door. “You did not protest last night. Or this morning.”
She saw that he was preparing to leave and she dashed to his side, putting her hand over his as it rested on the latch. Suddenly, she was very serious as she gazed up at him.
“Kiss me before you go,” she begged softly. “It might be the very last time we have such an opportunity before… before.…”
She could not finish and he did not let her. Setting the helm to the table, he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, sweetly, tasting her essence and burning the sensation deep into his memory. His mouth moved from her lips to her cheeks to her forehead, branding every inch of flesh he could come into contact with. His heart was hurting so that he was positive it would burst. He simply could not believe this was about to end, that he allowed himself unrestrained feeling for the woman. But he was so glad that he had. He wouldn’t have missed the experience, short as it was, for anything.
He returned to her lips and kissed her one last time before pulling back, gazing adoringly into the dark green eyes. Gently, he touched her cheek.
“Finish dressing,” he murmured. “I will see you downstairs.”
Her lips were swollen from his attentions, her cheeks flushed. “I love you, Rhys. For always and forever. You will remember that.”
His brilliant blue eyes were dim with sorrow. “As I will love you, and no other, for the rest of my life.”
She smiled bravely at him, closing the door softly behind him as he left. But the tears came the moment he quit the room and she allowed herself a few, luxurious moments of wallowing in grief that was beyond description.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rod was waiting for Rhys with a big cup of ale in his hand. His feet were propped up on a chair and he hardly gave his brother a glance when the man finally joined him at the table. Rhys was withdrawn and moody as the serving wench presented him with bread and cheese. He ignored it for the most part, helping himself to the ale that Rod was drinking.