“I do not know if you can trust me, either, Sweyn. I have been a child for so long, it will be difficult for me to be a woman. I am trying, but...” She sighed and cuddled closer. “I don’t want to be a child anymore, Sweyn. I think you can help me to become a woman. Even if you do not stay with me forever, I want you to be the first.”
What was she asking him to do? Sweyn opened his eyes and met hers. The invitation was there, unmistakable. Sweyn swallowed. Great Odin, she was asking him to...! His rod grew even harder, though a moment ago he had considered that impossible. He imagined bending and devouring her soft lips, plunging his hands into her hair, plunging his body into hers. He imagined sating his need on her, and the vivid images in his head were all wonderful.
And then, just as abruptly, the desire leached out of him.
How could he take her in such a way? Steal her innocence? He was not a man to stay with her, or any woman. He would use her and leave her, and then what? She would be hurt, she would suffer, she would look at him with pain in her eyes. He could not bear that, and Sweyn knew suddenly that for the first time in his whole selfish life, he would rather deny his desires than suffer the consequences.
Cautiously, amazed at his own self-denial, and feeling almost saint-like because of it, Sweyn shook his head. “Nay, Mary,” he said gently. “I am not the man for you. You will find someone else, someone who cares for you and will stay with you, always. Someone who is deserving of you. Now go back inside, ‘tis far too cold out here.”
And then he stepped away from her. Although releasing her was like cutting off his hand, he still managed to do it. Pride at his self-sacrifice surged through him, mingling with his savage pain of loss.
Mary stared up at him a moment, bewildered, tears sparkling in her eyes, and then she turned and walked back to the cottage. When the door finally closed, Sweyn was sure that it sliced his heart in two.
You did a fine thing. You were a knight, like Ivo. Be proud. She will be much happier with a better man.
“Aye, but can I stand the thought of it?” Sweyn muttered, and then cursed and kicked savagely at a pile of debris. “If I’ve done such an honorable thing, why am I feeling so bloody miserable?”
Chapter 12
Briar had enjoyed the journey to the old house, even though it had stirred up painful memories. But now the pleasure was gone. Ivo had spoiled it with his strange behavior toward his brother, his wild manner inside the abandoned building, and now his frozen, icy politeness.
His silence irritated her beyond bearing, and in the end she had to remind herself of the vow she had made to herself, in case she sought to stir him into response, any response, by baiting him.
But still Ivo had said nothing. The raging temper that had afflicted him was gone, turned to frigid ice, and no matter how patient and forbearing she was, he simply gazed at her with dark, tormented eyes.
“Ivo!” she cried at last, beyond caution. “You must tell me what is wrong, for I cannot bear it any longer.”
“There is nothing wrong with me that you need concern yourself with.” He looked away, toward the house, and his mouth firmed. “My problems are my own, demoiselle. I will handle them in my own way.”
“Ivo—”
“You are home.” He slid from the saddle, and reached to help her down. “I have matters to attend, so I will bid you farewell for now.”
His voice was stilted and emotionally bereft. How could that be, when before he had been so warm, so real? Briar wanted the other Ivo back; she already hated this icy man. She stamped her foot in frustration. “Ivo!” But he simply ignored her, climbed back on his horse, and rode away.
Briar did not understand it, and it worried her. She did not like the Ivo she had seen today, he frightened her. They were to be wed. This man was to be her husband, the father of her babe. What chance did they have at a life if she did not like or understand him?
She had not even known Ivo had a brother, he never spoke of him. Miles’s face filled her mind, that expression of sad resignation in his eyes. As if he had long ago given up on reclaiming his brother. What had Ivo done that was so terrible? Why had he been disgraced? Why did he hate his brother so? Was it because Miles was still a knight? That Miles was a better man?
Nay, I don’t believe it. Ivo is a good man. I trust him with my life, with my babe’s life.
This surprising revelation ousted all her former doubts. She had been wrong when she worried Ivo would leave her—she knew it was not in his nature to abandon those in need. But there were still so many questions Briar did not know the answers to. Ivo had secrets, painful secrets, she accepted that. But so did they all. How could she help him if he did not tell her?
Aye, he was angry, but it was more than that. Something was festering and rotting deep inside him. Something was poisoning him, and preventing him from being the man he could be.
It was up to Briar to find out what it was, and heal him.
“Are all men so infuriating?” she asked Mary, when she had finished glaring after him, and gone inside to find her sister returned.
Mary looked up with a vague smile, her face drawn and pale, her eyes distant. She did not even bother to answer.
What is wrong with everyone? Briar felt like screaming.
To add to her misery, an hour later the sickness returned. Despite it, and with fierce determination, she set about dressing and readying herself for their performance that night. Jocelyn had sent word that they were required at the home of a city merchant. Lord Shelborne had been shouting their praises so hard, others were clamoring for them to perform.
It was not until they reached the venue, that Briar understood how quickly the rumor of their real identity had spread. Instead of the story turning patrons against them, it was having the opposite effect. The wealthy of York appeared to be fascinated by them. Having them perform gave a touch of danger to proceedings, Briar supposed. A brush with the forbidden. She was not foolish enough to think that, if it became too dangerous, these same people would not drop them like hot coals and abandon them to their fate.
As Briar knew all too well, ‘twas the way of the world.
