Fergus swam away with only a few men several feet behind him, too far away to do any damage. They eventually turned back as Fergus kept swimming for the safety of the opposite shore. He eventually climbed out and ran off, free as a bird.
Mouth hanging open, Derica turned to Keller to thank him for assisting Fergus but the man was already gone. To her right, the soldiers hauling her husband up the wall had gotten him to within a few feet of the summit and her focus returned to Garren.
She forgot about Keller and his dead-eye aim, instead rushing to the group of men now pulling Garren up over the sideof the wall walk. She tried to push her way through the group but there were too many men, so she hung back, heart in her throat, struggling for a glimpse of his copper-blond hair. All she could see was a sea of soldiers. But suddenly, the armor parted and Garren appeared, unwrapping the rope from his arm. The moment their eyes met, the rope fell to the ground.
Derica hadn’t seen him move; one moment she was standing looking at him and in the next, she was aloft in his arms. When she realized this, the tears came and she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly enough to strangle him.
“You are not dead,” she gasped over and over. “You are not dead!”
Garren held her so tightly that he swore he heard bones cracking. He was only aware of her soft body in his arms, her hot breath in his ear. He couldn’t seem to hold her tightly enough, closely enough, feeling her hair tickle his face. It was like heaven. Before he realized it, he was kissing her cheeks, her nose, her eyes now wet with tears. All the while, Derica gasped, something between a laugh and a sob.
“Nay,” he breathed in between heated kisses. “I am not dead. And neither are you.”
Derica laughed joyously, meeting his feverish kisses with delight. Her hands were on his stubbled face as he literally kissed every pore on her face. He didn’t seem to want to do anything other than kiss her. But as the initial shock of delirium began to fade, Derica wanted answers.
“What happened?” she asked in between furious kisses. “Why did the Marshal send me a missive telling me of your death? Fergus said that he was mistaken. How could he make a mistake like that?”
Garren sighed, his kisses slowing considerably. It occurred to him that they were on the wall walk, not the best place to be in the midst of a battle. He stopped kissing her long enough to lookaround, noticing the nearby turret and taking Derica along with him as he made haste for it.
His arms were around her as they entered the cool shelter of the tower. His hands moved to her face, touching her reverently as if to confirm that she was indeed real. He still couldn’t believe it. But the question hung in the air between them, the massive implications becoming reality. He didn’t even know where to start.
“What else did Fergus tell you?” he asked softly.
Derica shook her head, her eyes wide with anxiety. “Not much more,” she told him. “He simply said that the Marshal was mistaken about your death. But how can this be?”
Garren thought on that question, taking her hands between his own and kissing them reverently.
“I told you that nothing could keep me from you,” he murmured. “Not the Marshal nor your father nor even death. I meant it. Fergus came to me when I was on the battlefield at Lincoln to tell me that you had disappeared from Cilgarren. At that moment, there was nothing more important on earth than finding you and I was determined to do so. Dead or alive, I would find you. But I knew the Marshal would not let me go so easily so I faked my own death so that I would be free to return to Wales to search for you. I had no idea that the Marshal would find you before I would, sending you missives of my death.”
Derica stared at him, shocked by the story. “So the Marshal still believes you are dead?”
He nodded slowly. “If he finds out that I faked my death, then my death might not be such a mistake after all. He will not be pleased.”
Derica clutched at him. “What are you going to do?”
He kissed her fingers again, still gripped between his two enormous palms. “Truthfully, I had not thought on it. My onlyfocus has been to reclaim you. Now that I have you, I suppose I must make plans for our future.”
“What future?”
His blue eyes glimmered. “A glorious one now that you and I are together again. What does it matter with kings and princes? The only thing that matters is you. Trust that I will do what is necessary to build a fine legacy for our son.” His gaze drifted over her slender body. “I must say, you do not appear to be with child.”
Derica’s soft expression faded somewhat, realizing that Fergus, or someone, must have told him that she had been pregnant. She sighed softly, putting a tender hand to his cheek. “I am not,” she murmured. “Not any longer.”
His brow flickered with confusion. “But Fergus said….”
She cut him off gently. “It was not meant to be. The fall into the river saw to that.” She saw his expression wash with sorrow and she turned the tables on him, kissing his big hands instead. “Do you know how I ended up at Pembroke?”
He nodded, distressed, and she pressed him. “Did Fergus tell you?”
“He did.”
“Then you know that I slipped from the hill at Cilgarren and into the river. I was found by a woman and her two children. They nursed me back to health.” She smiled timidly at him. “There will be more children, my love. Do not grieve for the one lost. It simply was not meant to be, not this time.”
He nodded reluctantly, pulling her back into his embrace once again. For several moments, he fell silent, rocking her gently against him and relishing the feel of her in his arms once more. He felt extremely blessed for her life yet sorrowful for the one she lost. Still, they were together and that was the only thing of import now. He murmured prayers of thanks as he stood there and held her.
Outside of the tower, the sounds of battle were growing. Men were shouting and arrows were slinging over the walls. Garren’s gaze moved to the portion of the wall walk he could see, watching the battle grow more intense.
Derica noted where his focus lay and she, too, gazed out of the tower, watching the activity upon it. Then she looked up at her husband, his handsome profile as he watched the action. She could tell that he was anxious, pensive, torn. Now that they had found each other, bigger issues loomed.
