She nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I want you to keep them. So you will forget me not.”
He swallowed hard, blinking away the sting of his own tears. Without hesitation, he carefully accepted the small parcel from her outstretched palm, groaning softly when their flesh inadvertently touched. Under the guise of presenting him with a gift, Arissa greedily caressed his fingers as he slowly, lingeringly, claimed her tribute.
He was loathed to pull his hand away from her gentle fingers, but he could not allow their covert contact to continue lest the abbess become suspicious. Already, she was uncomfortable with the proximity of their conversation, as it had been a struggle to persuade the woman that he would do naught but calm Arissa with a few brief words.
He had been forbidden to touch her in any manner and although Richmond had been prepared for the fact that Arissa would officially cease to become his charge the moment he delivered her to the abbey, it was still difficult for him to accept the fact that he was no longer able to do with her as he pleased.
You are forbidden to touch her, sir knight. She’s no longer your concern.
Technically, the abbess was correct. But his heart still ached with the reality of it.
Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile and refolded the green silk about the flowers. He was well aware that it would be far less painful for them both if he were to put on a brave front, showing her that he was confident in his ability to return for her as quickly as possible. He had to show courage, for Arissa’s sake.
“I shall keep your gift next to my heart, always,” he said evenly. Noting the faint smile on her lips, he gave her a saucywink to reinforce his light tone. “I shall return as soon as I can, kitten. Until then, you must decide what you would name our fortress. I am depending on you.”
She nodded eagerly, swallowing the torrents of miserable tears that threatened. He was determined to be brave; so was she. “I shall make my decision, have no fear. And I shall watch the road for your return, every day.”
He chuckled softly, struggling to maintain the positive atmosphere. “I shall hurry, then. I would hate for you to become bored waiting for my reappearance.”
Her smile faded, looking at him with such longing that he was forced to step away from her or risk breaking down completely. “I will not become bored. But I will miss you more dreadfully with each passing moment. Already my heart aches for you, Richmond.”
His own smile died, feeling her pain as it mingled with his own consuming anguish. “As does mine for you, kitten,” he whispered. “Be brave, my love. We shall be together soon, I vow.”
She was making a valiant attempt to maintain her courage but he could see that her strength would not hold out indefinitely. The sooner he made a quick break, the stronger they would both be.
With a final, weak smile as if to prove to her that he believed his own words, he turned away and motioned for Gavan to release Emma to the custody of the nuns. Before he could move away completely, however, Arissa’s delicate voice came wafting to him upon the damp sea breeze.
“I love you, Richmond. For all time, I will love you.”
He turned to her, slowly, his eyes screaming with emotion. “And I love you, Lady Arissa,” his voice was hoarse. “In this life and beyond.”
Without another word, he mounted his charcoal gray charger. Arissa watched as he and Gavan galloped down the rocky road, toward the column of men that had collected since the disbanded skirmish. A company of soldiers that would have virtually no time to recover before their liege was marching them to London.
Arissa continued to watch the two armored figures until they disappeared from sight. Even then, she could scarcely believe he had gone. Trying desperately to bite back the tears, she was simply not strong enough to stop the heart-wrenching sobs.
Richmond’s wagon driver attempted to help her from the wagon so that he might join the rest of the column, but she refused to leave. Sobbing and gasping, she ignored his requests, his offers of aid, simply for the fact that she irrationally hoped he would give up his efforts and drive away with her lying amongst the wheat sacks and take her back to Richmond.
She was vaguely aware of Emma’s comforting voice, of the mother abbess’ throaty tone, but little else. The only matter of import was the fact that Richmond had left her. Even when gentle hands forcibly removed her from the flat bed, she was barely aware of their efforts.
Richmond was gone, and he had taken her soul with him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Henry Percy wasbecoming quite familiar with Owen Glendower’s hospitality. Even though it was the dead of winter and there was scarce food to be found, Owen always provided the very best that he had which, at the moment, included dried autumn fruits and wedges of tart cheese.
But Hotspur was not interested in the Welsh menu. Having ridden over miles of snow and ice, he was interested in the topic of the proposed meeting. Owen had indicated that he had the key to Henry’s control; being a naturally curious man with a dwindling loyalty for the English king, Hotspur was interested in Owen’s information. Through the year of fighting that had occurred between them in the battle for Wales, Owen had always shown his penchant for honesty. A characteristic, at the moment, Henry trusted more than his own king’s.
Even now, Owen and his cousin David sat across from Hotspur, making a weak attempt at small talk and meaningless chatter. On his second goblet of smuggled French wine, Henry moved to the heart of the summons.
“You have not brought me here to speak of the intricacies of Byzantium glass,” he said quietly. “What is it you would say, Owen?”
Owen’s pleasant expression held firm as he studied the mighty warrior before him; tall and dark, he was Northumberland’s heir. As King of the North, Owen knew he would have a powerful ally in the son of the Earl of Northumberland if he were able to convince the man to side with him in his resistance against Henry.
By Hotspur’s body language, Owen was able to deduce that the man’s patience was thinly held. Setting his emptied pewter chalice to the table before him, he drew in a deep breath as he collected his thoughts.
“I will move to the point, then,” he said, fixing Hotspur with a piercing stare. “You are bordering on mutiny, my lord. Even though you have not indicated as much, rumors to the effect have been rampant for months now and the fact that the war on the border has all but stagnated is a good indication of your indecision.”
Hotspur’s gaze held even. Without waiting for the reply that he knew would not be forthcoming, Owen continued. “I have received reliable information that Henry’s bastard daughter, a young lady he’s shown particular interest in, has recently been sequestered at Whitby Abbey in Yorkshire. If we can obtain the girl, I believe Henry can be controlled.”
