“Absolutely.”
She raised her eyebrows as if fearful of his threat. He broke into a smile and nuzzled her neck, dropping soft kisses on the tender skin. Arissa closed her eyes against his gentle attention. But thoughts of bliss and a future filled with Richmond were abruptly overshadowed by darker, more frightening visions.
Her eyes opened as sharp recollections of the cloister infiltrated her mind, as they did so often these days. But now, a sharp distaste for the life of the cloth was becoming her worst nightmare. More than mere reluctance, it was a palpable terror.
“When will you speak to my father, Richmond?” she whispered against his thick brown hair.
He paused at her pleading tone, a thousand thoughts whirling through the mists of his mind. He paused a moment in silent contemplation before meeting her gaze.
“When the time is right, kitten. You must realize that this will come as a great shock to him,” he fingered a raven-colored lock. “But, most importantly, you must not become discouraged or panicked. Even if you are forced to meet your appointment with Whitby after the first of the year, which I suspect will be the case, you must not become disheartened. Know that I will come for you as soon as I can.”
Her eyes misted; he could see the tears coming. “I do not want to be away from you.”
He sighed regretfully. “There is nothing we can do, kitten. Your future has been planned for eighteen years and you certainly cannot expect to dissolve a matter of this importance in a few days. It will take time.”
She blinked rapidly, chasing away the tears. “But you will not forget me?”
He kissed her forehead, laughing softly at the irony of the statement. “Foolishness. If I were never to see you again from this day forward, you would remain as strong and vital in myheart as you are at this moment. Never forget that, Riss. I shall always love you just as I do now until I die.”
She leaned against him, feeling his strength, his warmth, relishing in it as she always had. “I am frightened, Richmond. What if my father denies our request?”
Her head tucked underneath his chin, Richmond’s smile faded as he thought on that very real possibility. Even though a denial would be of no consequence in the larger scheme of things, it would nonetheless be an obstacle to overcome. Even though Henry loved him, he simply was not of Arissa’s station and that stumbling block alone would prove to be mighty.
“I can be quite convincing,” he murmured after a moment. “My years and years of experience have given me much practice in the art of persuasion. If that doesn’t work, I shall simply torture him into submission with my superior strength.”
She giggled. “Father weighs more than you do. Surely he will be difficult to coerce should it come to a battle of strength.”
Richmond thought of Henry, strong and proud, with a temper to match. Not only would it come down to a battle of strength and wills, but mortal combat was not out of the realm of possibility. Richmond could not begin to fathom how Henry was going to react to his astonishing demand.
Your primary concern in this life is the child you hold. You will guard her with your life.
He had completed his orders too well. Not only had he protected her with his life, she had literally become his life in ways he would have never dreamed possible. She had been his destiny in every sense of the word.
“Let us keep the word battle out of this conversation,” he said softly.
*
Two shrouded figurestethered their mounts deep in the woods. The horses were frothing and sweaty, indicative of an abusive ride. But the two men who had driven the animals to the brink of collapse paid no mind to the miserable horses as they crept through the undergrowth, through the trees that opened onto the well-traveled road between Lambourn and Goring.
The thoroughfare was deserted, as they hoped. But not for long. A small party was approaching and they made haste back to the shielding protection of the trees.
“Do you have it?” the very same soldier who had been stalking Arissa at Lambourn threw back his hood, fumbling with something underneath his cloak.
The second soldier, his seasoned companion, nodded and dug about in his mail. “Aye, I got it. It was not difficult to steal with all of de Lohr’s and le Bec’s men watching the Stick and Ball game.”
The first man drew forth a small Welsh crossbow, well-made and compact. As he loaded the dual-arrow catapult, the second soldier handed him a large strip of crimson cloth.
The first soldier smiled with satisfaction as he held up the banner. “Excellent. Henry’s own tunic, Leopards of England.” Quickly, he set to securing the strip of material to one of the arrows.
The second soldier peered over his shoulder. “David, I still do not understand why you had me steal the length of tunic. What are you planning?”
David, a Welsh soldier for nearly twenty years, smiled as he secured the banner. “A brilliant scheme to be rid of le Bec,” he said. “You saw how he was always near the girl. God’s Blood, they were inseparable. If we want to get to Henry’s bastard, then we have to be rid of his knight.”
Lyle crouched down beside his comrade, scratching his head. “You still have not answered my question. What are you going to do to the de Rydal party?”
Cloth secured, David rose to his feet and Lyle with him. “Simple, really. Tad de Rydal was ousted from the celebration for injuring le Bec. In retaliation, le Bec sends some of his men to ambush his enemy,” he held up the crossbow, waving the crimson standard. “Le Bec announces his vengeance for all to hear. Labeled a murderer, he’s forced to flee to London and we, my friend, are rid of him. I would suspect that by tomorrow sundown, Richmond le Bec will no longer be an obstacle and by the end of the week, Henry’s bastard will be in Owen’s hands.”
Lyle sighed; ’twas as good a plan as any. Le Bec and the girl had been together constantly and the Welshmen had been thinking heavily on returning to Owen empty-handed when David had come up with a scheme.
