Page 37 of While Angels Slept
“And where are these magnificent homes?”
“Gillingham is a fortified home to the west and Darland is another home a few miles to the southwest. They are wealthy holdings with grain and sheep production.”
It was odd how Charles did not sound so much like a madman at all when discussing his daughter-in-law’s holdings. Still, Dagan was not convinced. He was filled with guilt for even listening to the offer, but there was selfishness in him. He was almost forty years old and had nothing to show for it. A beautiful widow and her lands would be a small price to pay for disobeying his liege. Moreover, he could declare himself an independent lord with such wealth through marriage to Penden’s widow. These were desperate times. He had to take what he could.
“Even if I were to accept your offer, my lord, were I to release you, Lord Tevin would simply capture you again,” he said. “You could not stay here.”
“Rochester is my home,” Charles rumbled. “I am the Steward.”
“But du Reims is your liege.”
Charles tossed aside the half-eaten mutton. “Surely you know that what he has done to me is not right,” his voice was low and pleading. “The man has imprisoned me in my own dungeon so that he may steal my fortress. Do you not see this?”
“He imprisoned you because you were a danger. Your grief has made you mad.”
Charles threw down the bread and lifted his hands, like claws, into the weak light that streamed down into his cell. “There is no madness in my observations. Tell me that he and my son’s wife are not conspiring against me as we speak. Tell me that du Reims has not taken over every aspect of Rochester. He wanted to be rid of me to confiscate my holding and has used any excuse he could think of to do so. Can you not see that?”
Dagan inevitably thought of the past few days. Lord Tevin had indeed spent a good deal of time with Lady Cantia and her young son. In fact, his attention had gone beyond mere concern, some thought. There was talk. Though Dagan wanted nothing more than to refute Charles’ assertions as the ravings on an old man, he could not entirely. Some thought there was truth to what he said.
Without another word, Dagan stood up and quit the vault. Surprisingly, Charles let him go without vehement protests. He continued to stand in the weak light, listening to the footfalls until they faded completely and wondered if he would, indeed, ever find freedom from this place.
*
Faint shouts couldbe heard in the bailey beyond the lancet window. Tevin was enjoying the best sleep he’d had in a long time with Cantia wrapped in his arms. There was warmth and peace there, a wondrous world of satisfaction he’d never before experienced. It was enough to make him forget everything else. But the shouts eventually woke him and he sat up, his massive shoulders silhouetted against the softmoonlight. Cantia, jostled by the movement and by the fact that he had moved his big warm body, stirred.
“What is it?” she asked sleepily.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, putting his hand on her head to comfort her. “I am not sure.” He bolted up from the floor and collected his breeches. Cantia sat up, clutching the coverlet to her nude chest. She watched Tevin pull on his breeches in the darkness. Silently, he pulled on his boots and marched to the door. As she sat there in confused silence, Tevin suddenly turned around, marched back to her, bent over and kissed her gently on the lips. He kissed her again because she tasted so good. Retracing his steps, he quit the room and shut the door softly behind him.
Legs hugged up against her chest, Cantia had a smile on her face. His kiss had brought back memories of a most passionate encounter. Then her eyes moved to the bed she was unable to sleep on and inevitable thoughts of Brac came back to her. She put a timid hand on the mattress, feeling the linen beneath her fingers. Her tender thoughts of Tevin began to turn to thoughts of Brac. Lying back down on the warm bedclothes, she gazed into the darkness, torn between thoughts of two very different men.
Was she betraying Brac? The man had been in his grave a month and already she was fornicating with someone else. She wondered what Brac would say to her, or if she had died, if he would have found comfort so soon after her passing. Though she would not have wanted him to mourn the rest of his life over her, surely there was an appropriate length of mourning for one so well loved.
Perhaps what she was doing was wrong. Perhaps she was being too selfish and not giving Brac the appropriate respect. Tevin was new, exciting, kind and intelligent. But he was also her liege and had been very kind to her in her time of need. No matter that she told him the feelings she held for him were different from those she held for Brac. The fact remained that the situation was one of convenience. He was here, he was kind to her, and in her weak state, she had responded. Shewas beginning to think she was a very weak and foolish woman.
More thoughts filled her head, those of longing and grief and what the future might hold. A lone tear trickled down her temple, tears for Brac, for herself, for Tevin. She should have never allowed herself the warmth of Tevin’s comfort. But she had needed it. She realized that she did not regret her actions for one moment, and perhaps that was her greatest guilt. She had wanted Tevin to touch her, to explore her, and she in turn had wanted to explore him. She did not think of Brac at all when Tevin was around. All she could think of was him.
Cantia didn’t know how long she lay there, staring at the ceiling and thinking of Tevin. She didn’t even know what time it was, though the room was a soft shade of gray so she imagined it was somewhere close to dawn. Suddenly, the door to the chamber opened and closed and she sat up quickly in time to see Tevin rounding the side of the bed.
His gaze fell on her, the nearly-black eyes intense. He was naked from the waist up and for the first time, she got a very good look at just how enormous the man’s chest and shoulders were. A soft matting of dark hair covered his chest, hair that had been fuzzy and wonderful against her skin. Gazing up at him, all of the passion and excitement from the night before washed over her and she shuddered.
“Did you discover what the herald was about?” she asked.
He nodded. “I did.”
She waited expectantly for him to continue, but he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed and looked at her. His gaze lingered and she smiled.
“Why do you stare at me?”
He lifted a dark eyebrow, a smile on the corner of his mouth. “Because you are so beautiful,” he reached out, taking a strand of her hair between his big fingers. “Honestly, Cantia, it seems that all I can do is stare at you.”
Her smile turned modest. “What is happening in the bailey?”
His eyes took on a hard cast. “Trouble, I’m afraid.”
“What trouble?”
He sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “It would seem that my cousin has arrived early,” he said. “Geoff and his entourage are filling the bailey as we speak.”
