“No doubt,” Mossy said, digging through his bag. Suddenly, a large rat popped forth and skittered across the floor, vanishing underneath the bed. Mossy acted as if he hadn’t noticed the rodent, continuing to rummage through his satchel. “Damn rats. They like to eat my pessaries.”
“Pessaries?” Arissa repeated.
“Aye.” Mossy suddenly drew forth a pouch, shoving it at Richmond. When Richmond looked puzzled, the ancient crone fixed him in the eye. “To prevent pregnancy,” he said. “Since ye and Arissa are lovers, there is a great need to prevent her from conceiving before ye can marry her. Were she to become pregnant, it would become a terrible scandal, not to mention the nuns would probably take the babe away and ye’d never see it again. Do ye understand what I am telling ye?”
Richmond stared at him a moment, moving woodenly to accept the pouch. “I…. I understand all too well,” he swallowed, slanting Arissa a glance. “How did you know?”
Mossy dabbed Arissa’s bruise with a clear salve. “She told me. But I will tell ye that I was not surprised. I have been expecting it.”
Richmond did not know what to say. He touched Arissa’s hair as Mossy tended her wound, his weary thoughts threatening to consume his sanity. Far more had happened in the past two days than he could hope to comprehend and his exhausted mind was fairly numb with the entirety of events. When the old man finished spreading the ointment, he returned his attention to his bag once again.
“Ye might want to consider using the pessaries indefinitely, Richmond,” he said softly. “Arissa’s health is delicate and were she to conceive, it might prove to be too much for her. With her petite stature and yer massive size, the child she would bear would most likely kill her. I know ye’d consider her life over the desire for an heir.”
Arissa’s eyes came open and she looked to Mossy, suddenly lucid. “That’s ridiculous, Mossy. I shall not hear such nonsense. Richmond must have a dozen heirs.”
Richmond scratched his head. “He’s simply thinking of your health, Riss. Mayhap we should listen….”
“Nay!” she spat. “I shall not listen to him, and I shall not use his foolish pessaries!”
Richmond stood up, patting her shoulder gently. “All right, kitten, all right. Do not get yourself worked up. There will be plenty of time to discuss this later.”
She shook her head firmly, feeling her body relax as he began to massage her neck. “There’s nothing to discuss,” she said softly, closing her eyes against his touch. “I shall bear you a host of sons in spite of Mossy’s worry. I can do it.”
Behind Arissa, Richmond passed a lingering glance at Mossy. “I know you can, kitten.” But he did not mean it.
A heavy silence descended on the room, the faint sounds of the waning battle permeating the air. Richmond knew the conflict was declining and he was not planning on returning to the action to clean up the remnants; Daniel was in charge and could handle the task admirably. Furthermore, he had completed his duty; he had saved Lambourn with his intelligence and tactics and considered his function fulfilled for the moment.
From the most strenuous of duties to the tenderest of tasks, he continued to massage Arissa’s shoulders, trying desperately not to linger on her magnificent breasts just below the waterline. She was warming under his hands, her spirit and life returning and he was infinitely grateful that God had given him the strength and skill to save her from the most intense peril yet.
As Richmond pondered the fortunes of Fate, Mossy sat on the edge of the bed, rummaging through his bag as usual. The man could never remain still for any length of time and Richmond passed him a curious glance, wondering what on earth he was looking for.
“What did the soldier mean when he referred to me as Henry’s daughter?” Arissa’s voice pierced the air, thin and barely audible.
Richmond continued to rub her shoulders, not daring to glance at Mossy. The old man, thankfully, hadn’t faltered in his rummaging. Except for the fact that he was making more noise than usual, Richmond would have thought he hadn’t heard the question at all.
When Richmond did not answer right away, Arissa turned to look at him. The lump on her forehead was already turning shades of blue as their gazes locked.
“Do you know what he meant? You did not seem surprised by his words, Richmond. In fact, you said that Owen could not have me. Who is Owen?”
Richmond stopped his gentle massage. He couldn’t help but look to Mossy then; the old man had stopped digging through his satchel and was focused openly on Richmond, as if waiting for the knight to deliver a comprehensive explanation. Obviously, he was expecting Richmond to single-handedly deal with the situation.
Seeing he would receive little, if any, support from the old man, Richmond scratched his head thoughtfully and crouched beside the tub.
“Owen Glendower is the Welshman resisting England’s rule of Wales,” he said quietly.
Her gaze was open, inquisitive. “The soldier said he was going to take me to Owen. Why would he do that, Richmond? Why in the world would he want me?”
Mossy rose from the bed, stiffly, feeling every one of his eighty-odd years. “De Rydal’s attack was a cover for her abduction, Richmond. Of that I am sure. To distract ye from Arissa and then spirit her away to Wales was their true objective.”
Richmond glanced to the old man. “I do not believe that was the case, although it was a convenient and coincidental happening. Ovid was screaming for my head from the moment his army attacked. He wanted me, to be sure. The men who abducted Arissa must have been here prior to the attack and simply used the assault to their advantage.”
“That may be so, but the point is that Owen knows she’s here. And he will undoubtedly attempt to abduct her again.”
Richmond opened his mouth, but Arissa suddenly leapt into the conversation. “What are you talking about? Richmond, what’s happening?”
Richmond’s gaze fell on her once more. Her inquisitive look was gone, replaced by a measure of suspicion and bewilderment. He sighed heavily; she was eighteen, a woman grown, and old enough to know of her true heritage. Moreover, it would be difficult to conceal any factual evidence from her at this point, for she had already heard several portions of the truth.
Henry had wanted to tell her himself when she was old enough to understand the significance of her position. William had been forbidden to tell her, but Richmond was under no such orders. Gazing into her wide green eyes, he could see the time for truth had come.
