“I nearly died then,” he muttered. “I wandered in the forests with the outlaws. If Gunnar Olafson hadn’t found me, I would have died. He gave me back a life. But, lady, you have given me back my heart.”
For a long time Ivo lay his head against her, savoring her comfort, feeling the bitterness leaking out of him. It was not something that she could repair in an hour, or a day, or perhaps not even a year. But Ivo knew she would make him whole, one day. And the knowledge gave him a wonderful sense of peace and tranquility, something he had not felt since he was a young squire, in the Kenton household.
After a time Briar took his face in her hands, lifting him so that she could look into his eyes. He blinked at her as if he had been sleeping, and she shook him gently, to catch his full attention. Her voice when she spoke was deadly serious.
“You must not trust him again, Ivo. No matter what he tells you, no matter what he says, you must not believe it. You must never soften to him. He is evil through and through, and for such as he there is no redemption in this world.”
Ivo’s eyes were alert and fierce, staring into hers. “He has maimed me, murdered my beloved sister and had me disgraced, and now he has turned his attentions to you. It is enough. I will not risk your life, Briar, that is why I have asked Lord Radulf for his help. I do not trust myself alone, but I trust him.”
She stroked his cheek.
“I have wondered often why he wants me dead. It may be as you say, and he hates me because he cannot be me, and yet... Perhaps, until I am dead, he will never be free of our joint memories. I know him better than any other person, and while I live he cannot pretend to be other than what he is. I am his conscience, Briar, and while I am alive, I will always be watching him and judging him and reminding him of what he is.”
Briar nodded slowly, tracing the shape of his lips with her fingertips. “He is so much lesser than you, Ivo, and he would resent it, and in time resentment might grow into a hatred so intense it becomes unstoppable.”
“I will have to kill him,” Ivo said quietly. “My brother, my own blood. I will have to fight him and win. He must die, for your sake, and the sake of our babe.”
He leaned forward and kissed her mouth, slowly, gently. Worshiping her. He tasted the salt of tears and tike warmth of her love. She came into his arms, willingly, and it was as if there were no boundaries dividing them. No secrets.
He was free. And it was a heady thought, after all these years.
The rain was light outside, but here inside their cozy dwelling by the river, it was warm. Briar drank down the brew Jocelyn had concocted for her, and felt her stomach settle. Her nausea was passing, or mayhap she was just growing more resigned to it.
Ivo had brought her back to her cottage, but there were men to guard her. He had not wanted to let her out of Lord Radulf’s house, but she had insisted.
“We are not wed yet, Ivo. It will be soon enough then for you to manage my life. But for now, I will go home, thank you, and prepare myself to become your wife. Besides, I have my sisters to tell. I want to spend my last evening with them.”
And she had had her way.
Odo sat by the fire, silent, staring into the flames with his lopsided face as if he were a foreigner in a foreign land and they were all strangers. Against the door, two of Radulf’s men sat, trying to look alert as they did guard duty. Mary was asleep by the fire, her face peaceful. Earlier, she had glowed with happiness, exchanging foolish grins with Sweyn, as if they were all alone.
“He loves me,” she had whispered to Briar.
And Briar had finally pushed aside her doubts. Sweyn was a good man—he must be, if he was Ivo’s friend. Mary would be all right, and she was strong. Briar had not realized how strong her sister was, how quickly she had grown up since they arrived in York.
‘Twas just as well perhaps, for soon Briar would have a family of her own to take care of.
Mary had been overjoyed at Briar’s news, but a little sad, too. “But does that mean you will leave York now, Briar? That you will go south with Ivo?”
Briar had not thought that far ahead, and did not intend to. lime enough later to worry about where they would finally settle. And somewhat to her own surprise, she comprehended that although she would miss her sisters, it was Ivo she wanted to be with, needed to be with. Wherever Ivo was, that would be her true home.
Tonight Ivo had been required at Radulf’s hall, to drink ale with Sweyn and pretend to commiserate over his soon to be vanquished single days. He had gone for Sweyn’s sake rather than his own, and to discuss with Radulf plans to trap Miles into coming into the open. Radulf had begun to turn York inside out in the search for Ivo’s brother, but as yet there had been no sign of him. However they had discovered the men Miles had hired the night he rode at Ivo in the laneway. They were part of the castle garrison, and were to be punished for lending themselves out to a felon.
“You are fortunate in your Ivo.” Jocelyn met her eyes now with a smile. She had hugged Briar tightly when she was told of the impending wedding. “You see,” she had said. “My plan was a good one after all. You made the man so crazy for you, he wants to marry you.”
“How am I fortunate in Ivo, sister?” Briar asked dreamily. She presently felt so content that she felt as if she might actually float. How had it happened that the most terrible mistake of her life had turned into the best decision she had ever made?
“He wants to wed you, and not just because of the babe. He wants to wed you because you are Briar. The man is wild for you. I see it in the way he looks at you. I have seen looks like that before. Possessive, wanting, barely restrained. Aye, sister, you are fortunate indeed.”
Briar turned to her in surprise, for Jocelyn’s voice had been trembling. She did not doubt Jocelyn was pleased for her, but mayhap her happiness had brought back memories of Jocelyn’s own early days of marriage. Days that could never now be repeated.
“Is that how Odo once looked at you, sister?” she asked quietly.
Jocelyn smiled. “Once, aye.” And then her eyes went hard. “Trust me in this, Briar, when I say you must take hold of your good fortune with both hands. Do not hold yourself back. Do not be afraid to give yourself wholly to him, to take what he offers you. Sometimes your time is much shorter than you imagine.”
It was a warning, but well meant. And yet Briar, lying upon her bed later, wondered at her elder sister’s strangeness. Had Jocelyn really been thinking of her own happiness, when Odo was whole? Odo had loved her, Briar was certain of that, and Jocelyn had loved him. Then why had her sister’s eyes been so angry, so unsatisfied? As if she felt she had been duped of her full share.
Am I holding myself back?
