Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

W ith her healing ribs , Val couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. The sling back chairs did not provide enough support and the benches were too awkward. The only way she could find even moderate relief was if she pushed a sling back chair against a wall and propped herself up with a pillow.

Ever since their return from the cathedral that morning, she had been seated in the solar in precisely that upright position. Though she hated needlework and wasn't any good at it, she was giving it a moderate try. One of the serving women had given her a clean piece of linen on Lady Cantia's old frame and several colors of silk thread. So, like a true lady, Val was attempting to do something other than shoot arrows and thrust swords. Truth was that she couldn't do much else.

It was turning out to be a horrendous piece of work over the past few hours she had been attempting it. And it was difficult to focus, too, considering the solar door was near the entry of the keep and she could see all manner of traffic passing in and out. Cantia and Hunt came in at one point, the boy rushing into the great hall while his mother mounted the steps to the upper levels. Then Myles came in a short time later and parked himself in a chair next to Val just to pass the time. Val had always liked Myles. He was handsome, wise and good of character. But he only spoke of the weather and a new charger or the price of a good sword. Never anything she might like to hear, though she wasn't sure what, in fact, she might like to hear from him. Still, she wished he would speak to her of something other than warring.

Tevin came in a short time after Myles' arrival, entered the solar, and engaged Myles in talk of de Gael's arrival. Myles seemed to have calmed after his initial outburst. In fact, he showed his reluctance when Tevin asked him to escort the ladies to another location for the duration of the earl's visit. He wanted to stay, but Tevin convinced him that escorting the ladies was far more important. Val was secretly glad he would be going. Maybe she could coerce him into speaking on the color of her eyes instead of the color of battle.

But thoughts of Myles aside, Val sensed something in Tevin. Outwardly, her brother was cool and collected, as usual. But an odd flicker in his eyes gave him an almost edgy expression. When he spoke with Myles, it was obvious his mind was elsewhere. Val wondered if it had something to do with Cantia. Tevin just didn't seem like himself since they had returned from the cathedral.

To make the situation even stranger, he lingered so long in the solar that it almost seemed like he was killing time. Tevin was a man perpetually busy, which made it seem odd for him to loiter over meaningless conversation. But that was exactly what he appeared to be doing. Val was becoming suspicious. Just as she was preparing to ask him why he seemed so solicitous, Hunt entered the solar with a stick in one hand and the big yellow dog on his heels. The blue-eyed boy looked up at Tevin.

"My lord," he tugged on Tevin's tunic. "Have you theen my grandfather?"

Tevin looked down at the child. The question surprised him. Hunt had been displaying the resilience of a child in the wake of his father's death and his grandfather's subsequent madness, which made the question seem odd. It was the first the boy had mentioned his grandfather in two days.

"Your grandfather is safe, Hunt," he said evenly. "You will see him soon, I am sure."

Hunt's little brow was furrowed. "But he promisthed to make me a new sword. I buried my other sword with my father. Where is grandfather?"

Tevin glanced at Val. Her pale eyes were wide. She was wondering how Tevin was going to handle this delicate situation. Tevin crouched down so he was nearly eye to eye with the child.

"Your grandfather is not feeling well," he said honestly. "He is very sad that your father has died. He needs a few days to rest and then I am sure he will be well again."

Hunt's eyes were the shape of Cantia's, even if they weren't the same color. But Tevin also saw a good deal of Brac in the little face.

"But where ith he?" Hunt persisted. "Can I go and see him?"

"Nay, lad," Tevin did not want the boy visiting his hysterical grandfather in the vault. "Not today. Perhaps tomorrow."

Hunt didn't protest, though it was obvious he was disappointed. He looked at his stick and then looked back at Tevin. He raised the stick. "Will you fight me, then?"

Tevin had spent nearly an hour in the solar, marking time until the magical hour was up. Cantia had told him one hour in her chamber, and he planned to be there right on the mark. But gazing into Hunt's sweet little face, he felt that he could not refuse the lonely little boy. To have lost his father, and now his grandfather, was coming to take a toll on him.

"I will fight you," he agreed quietly. "But you cannot fight with a stick. We will find the smithy and see if he cannot fashion you a sword suitable for a young man."

Hunt's eyes widened. "You will?" He beamed a big smile, complete with two missing bottom teeth. "Can we go now?"

If he took him now, he would miss his date with Cantia. But gazing into her son's face, he suspected that she would understand. He put his hand on the boy's blond head and turned him for the door. "We shall," he said.

He hadn't taken a step when Myles spoke. "I shall take him, my lord. I am sure you have more pressing duties."

Tevin almost took the excuse. He could still make it to Cantia at the appointed time. But gazing down at the child, something deep inside would not let him be so selfish.

"I have no more pressing duties than to properly arm Master Penden," he said. "Come along if you like."

Myles took a few steps after him, then suddenly turned to Val as if he had just remembered she was in the room. He held out a hand to her. "Val? Come with us?"

She smiled. Tevin thought she actually blushed and he thought on Cantia's earlier observations. Maybe she was right , he thought. Stiffly, Val rose, taking Myles' outstretched hand. Happily, Hunt led them all from the solar and out into the yard.

The smithy had been at Rochester for years and was happy to help with Hunt's first weapon. He set aside what he was working on, measured Hunt's arm, and went to work. Frankly, with Viscount Winterton's massive presence hanging over him, there wasn't much else he could do. But it was a long process, certainly not one that could be accomplished in a few hours.

As the sun dipped into the late afternoon, Tevin had never felt so restless. All he could think of was Cantia waiting for him, and here he was playing with her son. But he remained nonetheless, leaning back against the support beam of the smithy's lean-to and watching the ruddy man heat the steel, pound it, cool it, and repeat the process. More than once he had to pull Hunt out of the man's way. The child was so excited he could hardly stand it.

During the course of the afternoon, Val and Myles stood in quiet conversation as the smithy worked. Eventually, Val's ribs ached too much from standing around and Myles escorted her back into the keep. Tevin watched his sister go, paying closer attention to the pair than he had before purely based on Cantia's observations. If there was something going on, he wanted to be aware of it. Val was his only sister and he was understandably protective over her, even with a suitor as mild as Myles de Lohr. Moreover, he was quite pleased with the prospect.

When the sun began to set, he was forced to swallow his impatience and resign himself to the fact that he would not be seeing Cantia alone this day. As much as he had been looking forward to it, more than he had looked forward to anything in years, somehow he was not entirely disturbed. Spending the afternoon with a very excited five year old had been a most rewarding substitute. Hunt was a wonderful little boy and he was coming to like him a great deal. He congratulated Brac Penden on fathering such a fine son and he was also quite sorry that Brac would never see the boy live to adulthood. It would have been a proud thing.

Lost to his thoughts as he watched the hypnotizing rhythm of the smithy, he was surprised to see Cantia enter the lean-to. She went straight for her son and put her hand on the boy's shoulder, asking him his business with the smithy. Hunt promptly turned around and pointed at Tevin, still leaning up against the support column. Partially hidden in the shadows, Cantia hadn't seen him when she entered the shelter. Tevin unfolded his arms and pushed himself off the beam.

"Your son came to me a few hours ago with a serious problem, my lady," he told her as he moved in her direction. "Since he was generous enough to bury his sword with his father, he had no weapon. I told him we would remedy the situation immediately and have been here ever since."

A light of understanding flickered in her big eyes. He saw it. She looked down at her son. "So that's it," she grumbled, ruffling the blond hair. "I was wondering where you went. Both of you."

Hunt was beside himself with excitement. He held his mother's hand tightly as he showed her the sword the smithy was working on. Tevin watched her the entire time, the shape of her exquisite face, the expressions that creased her brow. He couldn't look at anything else. But at some point he became aware that she did not look entirely pleased and when the smithy gave the boy the sword to test the weight, he moved up beside her.

"Did I do wrong?" he asked softly.

She turned to look at him, her sweet face gently illuminated in the dusk. "What do you mean?"

"You do not seem entirely pleased about the sword."

She lifted an eyebrow, though there was no anger behind it. "Brac always wanted to give him a metal sword but I would not allow it. He can hurt himself, or others, with it."

He wriggled his eyebrows. "Then perhaps I should have asked you first. Your son came to me in the solar a few hours ago and asked where his grandfather was. I gave him an evasive answer that somehow led to the statement that Charles had promised your son another sword in place of the one he buried with Brac. So I ended up down here with the smithy."

She nodded in understanding, her gaze moving back to the little boy as he swung the sword about under the smithy's watchful eye. "I assumed that something came up when you did not come to my bower," she said softly. "Clearly, I cannot fault you your noble deeds on behalf of my son. And for that, I thank you."

He took another step so that the right side of his body brushed up against her. "Know that I would not have missed any opportunity to spend time with you unless it was undeniably important," he muttered. "I thought perhaps a lonely little boy qualified as such."

"It does," she looked at him again, her beautiful face serene. "Given the choice, I would have made the same one."

"I would still like to see you alone."

"There will be more opportunity."

"Are you sure? You have not reconsidered our earlier conversation, have you?"

She smiled faintly, studying the lines of his strong face. "No, Tevin. I have not."

He smiled back at her but dare not touch her. He forced himself to change the subject lest he lose his self-control. It seemed as if the more time he spent around her, the more he wanted to touch her.

"Have you given any thought to where you and Hunt would like to go for the duration of my cousin's visit?" he asked.

She nodded. "My father's fortified home in Gillingham sits empty, as does a larger fortified manor in Darland a few miles to the southwest. Either one of them would be acceptable."

"Which would you prefer?"

She thought a moment. "I was born at Darland. I have always liked it there. The village even has an outdoor theatre where they give entertainment."

He lifted an eyebrow at her. "You are not going to go cavorting about the town while you're out from under my watchful eye, are you?"

She grinned. "Of course not. And even if I do, it is none of your affair. You'll be here wildly entertaining your cousin and you'll never even miss me."

He put his massive hand on the overhead beam, leaning over her in a rather dominating and provocative stance.

"That, madam, is an untrue statement," he rumbled. "I cannot go a moment of the day without thinking of you. When you are out of my sight, I shall miss you all the more."

She gazed up at him, feeling his breath on her face. Her heart began to race. "Do you think that you shall be able to come and visit us while we are there?" she asked intimately.

"I doubt it," he replied. "All of my focus will be on Geoff. He's like a naughty child that needs constant attention."

"Then this parting will not be a particularly pleasant thing," she said.

"Nay, it will not."

Hunt interrupted their increasingly passionate conversation as he ran into the lean-to with his weapon aloft. "Mam!" he shouted as only a five year old can. "My sword ith good for fighting. Did you thee?"

"I did," she put her hand on his head affectionately. "You must thank Lord Tevin for his generosity. It was most kind of him."

The little boy had his sword in two hands. He looked up at Tevin with such naked joy that Tevin instinctively smiled. "Thank you, my lord," he said. "Will you fight me now?"

Tevin cocked an eyebrow, though not unkind. "Perhaps tomorrow, lad. I suspect the evening meal is fast on the approach. There will be time for swordplay tomorrow."

Though disappointed, Hunt didn't argue. He kept staring at his new sword, perhaps the length from his elbow to his wrist, and admired it. It was a nice little weapon, purposely left dull at Tevin's request. Hunt couldn't have hurt himself, or someone else, if he tried. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Cantia took her son by the hand and led him back to Rochester's massive keep. Tevin kept pace with them, though at a respectable distance.

Inside, the great hall was filled with smells of fresh bread and smoke from the hearth. The servants were bringing bowls of food to the tables and the hall was already half full with senior soldiers and a few knights. John Swantey, Sir Simon, Sir Dagan and Sir Gavril were already seated and eating. Val and Myles sat next to one another, conversing quietly.

Hunt raced to his usual place at the table and elbowed his way in next to Sir John, demanding to be fed. The old serving woman that helped watch over him was at his side, trencher in hand and admonishment for his manners on her lips. Cantia made sure her son was well tended before leaving the hall with the intention of changing her clothes. In the process, she had lost sight of Tevin but gave it no particular mind.

The emerald surcoat she wore was slightly torn from her trip to the cathedral and she did not want it to tear further. It was a small tear, near the fastens at her waist, but she would rather put on a more stable garment. Strange she hadn't changed it the entire time she was in her bower waiting for Tevin. Her mind had been else occupied and it simply hadn't occurred to her. Leaving her son watched over by the older serving woman, she quit the great hall.

The stairwell was dark and cold as she mounted it to the upper level. As she cleared the second floor landing, a hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist. Startled, she almost screamed until she looked up and saw Tevin's dark eyes. He pulled her into a crushing embrace, his mouth descending on hers with powerful passion before she could utter a sound. It was a swift action, brutal and overwhelming, and meant to conquer.

But she was a willing captive. Her arms went around his neck and she was vaguely aware of being picked up and carried into her chamber. The door closed behind them and Tevin had enough presence of mind to bolt it. Alone, in private, now he did not have to worry over prying eyes or impressionable young boys. They were free to feel and taste only each other.

As he had done in the cathedral, his lips ravaged her, his tongue gentle, firm, experienced in her mouth. Cantia was his prisoner. His strength was too much for her to match so she surrendered to his onslaught, her small hands on his massive shoulders as he fiercely kissed her. When his mouth left her lips and he nibbled hungrily down her neck, it was all she could do to catch her breath.

He pulled the top of her shift out of the way, peeling it back to reveal a soft white shoulder. Cantia could hear him growl as his mouth worked her flesh, feeling the heat from his lips as hotly as if he were burning her. He pulled harder on the surcoat and ended up exacerbating the tear. The entire coat came apart in his hands and he tossed it to the floor. The woman in his arms was clad now in only her shift and he slowed his fevered pace, taking the time to actually feel her flesh underneath the thin material. It was slow, gentle, and erotic. He gazed into her eyes as his hands moved across her belly to hook around and cup her buttocks. His mouth descended on her again as he listened to the soft sounds of her gasping.

He was in pieces of armor which seemed to come off in steady rhythm. Cantia was adept at such things, having helped Brac on many occasions. She knew which fasten needed to be undone before the next piece could be removed and soon she had strewn sections of armor about the floor. The amazing part was that she had done it while Tevin ravaged her. When he was in his heavy breeches and tunic, he paused long enough to rip off his tunic and throw her back on the bed.

Cantia bolted up from the mattress before he could descend on her. Puzzled, he took her in his arms again to repeat the process but she balked.

"What is wrong?" he questioned, his lips against her face.

She shook her head. Then tears sprang to her eyes and Tevin forced himself to bank his fires. He looked at her with true concern. "What is the matter?"

She looked up at him, the lavender eyes brimming. "I cannot… the bed…"

He didn't understand. "I'm sorry, sweet, I don't…"

She jabbed a finger at the mattress. "We cannot use the bed."

His brows flickered with confusion. "Why not?"

She still had hold of him, silently pulling him around the end of the bed to the other side. As soon as Tevin rounded the frame, he could see bedclothes strewn about the floor in the four foot section between the bed and the wall.

"What is that?" he asked.

Her expression was one of shame and anguish. "I… I sleep there."

His dark eyes were soft on her. "Why?"

She gestured weakly at the bed. "Because it smells of Brac," she said softly. "I cannot bear it."

He understood, feeling guilt sweep him yet again. "Cantia," he murmured. "I am so sorry. You are still grieving and I've been nothing but overbearing and forceful with you. Forgive me, sweet."

She looked at him, her eyes wide. "You've not been overbearing or forceful at all. Moreover, at any time I could have refused you. I've not refused because I've not wanted to. I explained this to you, Tevin… what I feel for you is completely separate from what I have felt, or continue to feel, for Brac. I cannot sleep on a bed that smells of him because it is a fresh reminder of his loss every time I breathe it in. I will never heal if I continue to do that. And for my sake, for Hunt's sake, I must heal."

Tevin sighed, pulling her head to his lips and kissing her forehead. "I shall have the bed removed if it pleases you."

"I think that is best."

"No more sleeping on the floor. You'll catch chill."

She smiled weakly. "As you say," the mood between them, so passionate only moments earlier, had cooled. She continued to study him. "So is this the end of your onslaught for the day?"

His brow furrowed, somewhere between amusement and puzzlement. "Considering the circumstances, it probably should be, don't you think?"

She put her hands on his face, pressing her thinly clad body against his bare chest. "Nay, I do not," she whispered. "I would resume where we left off."

He couldn't help it. His arms went around her and his want for her ignited full-strength once again. He was coming to realize his fire for her was very easily stoked. As she lifted her mouth to him for a kiss, he spoke softly.

"Are you sure?"

"More than sure."

"On the floor?"

Her lips met his. "On the floor."

Mouths locked in a passionate embrace, Tevin went to his knees and Cantia with him. He laid her back on the mound of jumbled bedclothes, one hand behind her head and the other moving up her slender torso. Her breasts were full and luscious in his hand and he was suddenly very intolerant of the shift that still lingered between them. He pulled it off, indelicately, leaving her completely nude. He gazed at her a moment in the weak light of the chamber, his breath literally catching in his throat. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. Quickly, his breeches came off and he smothered her with his massive form.

Instinct took hold. Tevin kissed her so passionately that Cantia's head swam. She couldn't breathe with the force of his lust. His big hands moved the length and breadth of her body, hot and gentle yet powerful. When he closed over a bare breast, she encouraged him. When his heated mouth finally descended on a taut nipple, she held his head fast against her. Her body was wracked with excitement as his lips moved over every inch of her sweet, round breasts.

Since she was not a maiden, there was no fear when he wedged his big body between her legs. They parted easily for him, inviting him into intimate places. Tevin accepted the invitation and plunged deeply into her, listening to her gasps of pleasure. Gathering her up in his arms to both hold her close and to support his enormous weight, he began his measured thrusts into her sweet body, overwhelmed by the smell and feel of her. She was slick and tight. Never in his life had he experienced anything so wonderful. Never in his life had he expected to. But the lady cradled in his arms was just this side of heaven. He savored every thrust, every withdrawal, feeling her body draw him in deeper and deeper.

His mouth reclaimed hers, kissing her deeply. He loved the taste of her. Cantia's hands were on his hard buttocks, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks in his flesh. In the throes of her passion, she drew blood, causing Tevin to spill himself deep inside her. The frenzied pleasure-pain had been too much for him to take and it was a wicked enjoyment he experienced. Even after he savored his release, he continued to move in her. There was far too much fire and passion for him not to continue lingering over the deliciousness of their union. He continued to move in her, to kiss her, long into the evening. But at some point he did stop, and at some point, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

They slept soundly on the floor in a disarray of bed clothes that now smelled like Tevin.

*

The bottle prison was black but for the glow of a distant torch that filtered in through the opening in the ceiling. Charles could barely see his hand before his face, which is why he had taken to sleeping a great deal. There was nothing more to do. Moreover, sleep brought dreams, visions of Brac and he found comfort with his son. But then he would awaken, realize it had been but a dream, and close his eyes to beg for sleep once again. He had no idea how long he had been in the pit. Long enough, however, for his madness to grow.

Since the prison was so silent, the sounds of footsteps immediately roused him from his stupor. It was like hammer sounds in the deep. He leapt to his feet, unsteadily, straining to see who it was that approached from above. After a moment, he could see a face looming in the darkness but could not make out any features. His heart began to race.

"Who is it?" he demanded. "Announce yourself."

"It is Dagan, my lord," the knight lowered his face so that Charles could see clear his features. "I came to see how you are faring."

Charles looked up at the knight in the hole, recognizing him as one of the knights who had imprisoned him.

"I am still in my own dungeon, fool. How would you be?"

Dagan lifted an eyebrow. "My lord, I suggested the last time I saw you that a display of good behavior could possibly see you released from your confinement."

Charles put his hands on his hips. "Are you in charge of my dungeons now?"

"Lord Tevin has given assignments to his men. I hold the dungeons and the gatehouse."

"Then let me out."

"I cannot, my lord. Not without orders."

A food basket came down to him, lowered by a rope. Charles ignored it for a few moments, thinking to make a statement, but reconsidered when he realized how hungry he was. He did not know when last he ate. He grabbed the bread and mutton and chewed noisily. The basket was reeled back up.

"Did you consider my offer?" he called up to Dagan.

The knight knelt beside the opening. "What offer is that, my lord?"

"My son's wife for my freedom."

Dagan's attention lingered on the old man below. He was half-hoping to hear the question, half-hoping he would not. Truth be told, he was struggling. Dagan was an honorable knight, but he was also growing old and fewer opportunities were presenting themselves. Though the offer came from a madman, still, he could not completely discount it. He had actually allowed himself to entertain it and felt like a devil for doing so.

"I have not, my lord," he lied.

"Why not?"

"Because it is not reasonable, nor is it possible."

"But it is. Rochester, and my son's widow, belongs to me. They are mine to do with as I please, and I would offer Lady Cantia to you in exchange for my freedom."

Dagan sighed heavily. "Though your offer is generous, I cannot seriously consider it. In the first place, to release you from this prison would be in direct violation of my liege's order. Secondly, the lady and I would have nowhere to go. I do not have property and I would surely have to take her from this place."

"But she has property," Charles stopped chewing when he realized he might actually be able to bargain himself from this hell. "Her father left her two manors. They would belong to you if you married her."

"And where are these magnificent homes?"

"Gillingham is a fortified home to the west and Darland is another home a few miles to the southwest. They are wealthy holdings with grain and sheep production."

It was odd how Charles did not sound so much like a madman at all when discussing his daughter-in-law's holdings. Still, Dagan was not convinced. He was filled with guilt for even listening to the offer, but there was selfishness in him. He was almost forty years old and had nothing to show for it. A beautiful widow and her lands would be a small price to pay for disobeying his liege. Moreover, he could declare himself an independent lord with such wealth through marriage to Penden's widow. These were desperate times. He had to take what he could.

"Even if I were to accept your offer, my lord, were I to release you, Lord Tevin would simply capture you again," he said. "You could not stay here."

"Rochester is my home," Charles rumbled. "I am the Steward."

"But du Reims is your liege."

Charles tossed aside the half-eaten mutton. "Surely you know that what he has done to me is not right," his voice was low and pleading. "The man has imprisoned me in my own dungeon so that he may steal my fortress. Do you not see this?"

"He imprisoned you because you were a danger. Your grief has made you mad."

Charles threw down the bread and lifted his hands, like claws, into the weak light that streamed down into his cell. "There is no madness in my observations. Tell me that he and my son's wife are not conspiring against me as we speak. Tell me that du Reims has not taken over every aspect of Rochester. He wanted to be rid of me to confiscate my holding and has used any excuse he could think of to do so. Can you not see that?"

Dagan inevitably thought of the past few days. Lord Tevin had indeed spent a good deal of time with Lady Cantia and her young son. In fact, his attention had gone beyond mere concern, some thought. There was talk. Though Dagan wanted nothing more than to refute Charles' assertions as the ravings on an old man, he could not entirely. Some thought there was truth to what he said.

Without another word, Dagan stood up and quit the vault. Surprisingly, Charles let him go without vehement protests. He continued to stand in the weak light, listening to the footfalls until they faded completely and wondered if he would, indeed, ever find freedom from this place.

*

Faint shouts could be heard in the bailey beyond the lancet window. Tevin was enjoying the best sleep he'd had in a long time with Cantia wrapped in his arms. There was warmth and peace there, a wondrous world of satisfaction he'd never before experienced. It was enough to make him forget everything else. But the shouts eventually woke him and he sat up, his massive shoulders silhouetted against the soft moonlight. Cantia, jostled by the movement and by the fact that he had moved his big warm body, stirred.

"What is it?" she asked sleepily.

He didn't say anything for a moment, putting his hand on her head to comfort her. "I am not sure." He bolted up from the floor and collected his breeches. Cantia sat up, clutching the coverlet to her nude chest. She watched Tevin pull on his breeches in the darkness. Silently, he pulled on his boots and marched to the door. As she sat there in confused silence, Tevin suddenly turned around, marched back to her, bent over and kissed her gently on the lips. He kissed her again because she tasted so good. Retracing his steps, he quit the room and shut the door softly behind him.

Legs hugged up against her chest, Cantia had a smile on her face. His kiss had brought back memories of a most passionate encounter. Then her eyes moved to the bed she was unable to sleep on and inevitable thoughts of Brac came back to her. She put a timid hand on the mattress, feeling the linen beneath her fingers. Her tender thoughts of Tevin began to turn to thoughts of Brac. Lying back down on the warm bedclothes, she gazed into the darkness, torn between thoughts of two very different men.

Was she betraying Brac? The man had been in his grave a month and already she was fornicating with someone else. She wondered what Brac would say to her, or if she had died, if he would have found comfort so soon after her passing. Though she would not have wanted him to mourn the rest of his life over her, surely there was an appropriate length of mourning for one so well loved.

Perhaps what she was doing was wrong. Perhaps she was being too selfish and not giving Brac the appropriate respect. Tevin was new, exciting, kind and intelligent. But he was also her liege and had been very kind to her in her time of need. No matter that she told him the feelings she held for him were different from those she held for Brac. The fact remained that the situation was one of convenience. He was here, he was kind to her, and in her weak state, she had responded. She was beginning to think she was a very weak and foolish woman.

More thoughts filled her head, those of longing and grief and what the future might hold. A lone tear trickled down her temple, tears for Brac, for herself, for Tevin. She should have never allowed herself the warmth of Tevin's comfort. But she had needed it. She realized that she did not regret her actions for one moment, and perhaps that was her greatest guilt. She had wanted Tevin to touch her, to explore her, and she in turn had wanted to explore him. She did not think of Brac at all when Tevin was around. All she could think of was him.

Cantia didn't know how long she lay there, staring at the ceiling and thinking of Tevin. She didn't even know what time it was, though the room was a soft shade of gray so she imagined it was somewhere close to dawn. Suddenly, the door to the chamber opened and closed and she sat up quickly in time to see Tevin rounding the side of the bed.

His gaze fell on her, the nearly-black eyes intense. He was naked from the waist up and for the first time, she got a very good look at just how enormous the man's chest and shoulders were. A soft matting of dark hair covered his chest, hair that had been fuzzy and wonderful against her skin. Gazing up at him, all of the passion and excitement from the night before washed over her and she shuddered.

"Did you discover what the herald was about?" she asked.

He nodded. "I did."

She waited expectantly for him to continue, but he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed and looked at her. His gaze lingered and she smiled.

"Why do you stare at me?"

He lifted a dark eyebrow, a smile on the corner of his mouth. "Because you are so beautiful," he reached out, taking a strand of her hair between his big fingers. "Honestly, Cantia, it seems that all I can do is stare at you."

Her smile turned modest. "What is happening in the bailey?"

His eyes took on a hard cast. "Trouble, I'm afraid."

"What trouble?"

He sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "It would seem that my cousin has arrived early," he said. "Geoff and his entourage are filling the bailey as we speak."

Her eyes widened. "So soon?"

"I'm afraid so. Unfortunately, he's made very good time upon the road and arrived sooner than expected."

"But… what do we do? Do I still go to Darland?"

Tevin was silent a moment, his gaze lingering on her lovely face. "Not right now," he said quietly. "You and Hunt will stay put. I will have Val brought up to your room. She can stay with you until I can figure out what's to be done."

"You intend to hide us?"

"For the time being."

"I do not mean to cause problems, but I am not sure how long we can successfully hide Hunt," she said. "He is a very active little boy. He will want to run and play."

"Then we must explain to him that, for now, he cannot," Tevin replied. "I'll think of something to tell him. Perhaps if we make it into a game, he will willingly go along."

"What kind of game?"

He shook his head. "I do not know. But we shall have to think of something."

She nodded, her mind racing to encompass all of the possibilities that might coerce her son in to playing a restrictive game. But her thoughts also inevitably turned to Val, and in doing so, she spoke before she could stop herself.

"If Val stays with me, then you and I.…" she trailed off, unable to finish.

He looked at her. She looked so entirely beautiful in the early morning light. He was secretly glad that Geoff had come early, secretly glad that he would not have to send her away. He could not bear the thought of sending her away, not after last night. With his big hands, he reached out to take her face in his hands.

"Then perhaps I had better steal a kiss when I can," he said softly, kissing her gently on the lips. When he pulled back, their eyes met and they grinned at each other. "And more."

She smiled broadly as his mouth came down on her again, gently at first, then more insistently. He left the bed and ended up lying beside her on the floor, holding her in his arms and kissing her as if to never let her go. She was still nude, warm and cozy in the bedclothes, and in little time he pulled off his breeches and boots and joined her in that cozy warmth. His mouth moved across her shoulder, her chest, familiarizing himself with the taste of her. She most definitely had a taste, something between honey and silk. It was delicious, like food to a starving man, and he suckled deeply of her flesh.

The second time around, he was more familiar with her and it only served to intoxicate him. Her nipples were succulent and tender, the flesh of her belly delicious. He could hear Cantia's moans of pleasure and it spurred him onward until he reached the soft mound of curls between her legs. Even then, he did not stop. He continued to taste her, to savor every movement, every flavor. She had him by the hair as he held her tender core to his mouth, her legs over his enormous shoulders and his tongue doing wicked things. When he felt her stiffen in his hands, her body convulsing, he abruptly lifted himself and drove into her, feeling her tender walls throb around his manhood, drawing him deeper and begging for his release. But he could not answer so swiftly. He thrust deeply into her, so deeply that in little time her body was convulsing again and this time, he joined her.

Tevin lay with Cantia in his arms, still embedded in her sweet body, hearing the sounds wafting up from the bailey and trying not to listen. He did not want anything to interrupt this moment because he knew, more than likely, their next chance at being together would be far in the future. With his cousin around, there was no telling what was to happen during the course of his visit. Geoff was, at best, unpredictable. He found himself wishing he could run away and take Cantia with him, someplace where no king nor queen nor cousin could find them. Someplace peaceful. He sighed heavily. He wondered if such a place really did exist. It was the first time in his life he'd ever entertained such a thought.

"What's wrong?" Cantia's muffled voice came to him.

He shifted slightly, gazing down into her sleepy-eyed face. "Not a thing in the world, madam. Everything is wonderful."

"But you sighed."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "I suppose I am sighing with contentment. Or with discontentment at the thought of leaving you."

Her head came up, mussed and lovely. "Leaving me? Where are you going?"

He gently pinched her chin. "Downstairs, to my cousin. Remember?"

She looked sheepish. "I thought you meant… well, it doesn't matter anyway. Surely if your cousin is here, you must go and retrieve Val immediately."

He just looked at her. "Does the thought of me leaving distress you that much?"

"Of course it does."

His smile broadened and he kissed her again, realizing he wasn't finished with her, and rolled her onto her back. As the sounds of the bailey below grew louder and the room brightened, he took her again, savoring every stroke, every touch. When they were finished after particularly strong and multiple releases and lay sated in one another's arms, the sound of a young boy at the door quickly roused them.

"Mam!" Hunt was pounding on her locked door. "Mam, I'm hungry!"

Tevin sat up, pulling Cantia with him. She looked apprehensively at the door until Tevin silently encouraged her to respond.

"A moment, Hunt," she called out. "Be patient and wait a moment."

"You cannot go to the kitchen," he reminded her with a whisper. "I will go and bring some food to you both."

She nodded. "And do not forget to collect Val."

He sighed heavily. "Madam, would that I have enjoyed my time alone with you, for I fear I shall not be able to survive until our next encounter. The strain will be more than I can bear."

"You will have to unless you can think of a better sleeping arrangement. We do not want an audience."

With a grin, Tevin tossed back the bedding and Cantia stood up, a little unsteadily at first and they both laughed. Her legs were slightly sore from the strenuous morning. But in the soft glow of daylight, Tevin had a full view of her delicious body and he was not disappointed. She was soft, round, and perfect in every way. Watching her heart-shaped bottom cross the room to collect her shift had him licking his lips at the sight of her. His heart was thumping loudly against his ribs, his breathing doing strange things.

Shift in hand, Cantia wandered near the bed in preparation for dressing and he abruptly reached out, taking her by the waist with his enormous hands and shoving his face into her belly. Cantia giggled softly as he nipped at her and kissed her flesh, but her giggles soon turned to moans of pleasure when his hands moved to her buttocks and his mouth began to tease the soft mound of curls between her legs.

"Tevin," her legs were growing weaker and she struggled to stop him. "Not now. Hunt is waiting."

His response was to gently shove her backwards on the bed. Cantia tried to leap up again but his big hands were on her, holding her down as he wedged his head and shoulders between her legs. His tongue was exploring her intimate pink folds and she had not the strength to resist. With her shift shoved into her mouth to bite of her screams, she experienced release after release at his expert tongue.

Twice, Hunt yelled at her from the other side of the door and she breathlessly quieted him. In her lust, she remembered thinking that she was glad he was only five years old and would not wonder why his mother sounded so winded. When Tevin was done with her and she lay satisfied, boneless and limp, he ran his tongue up her belly, to her breasts, and pulled her up to sit by the arms.

"Get up now," he grinned as she fell back over on the bed and he pulled her up again. "Your starving son is waiting and I must go retrieve his meal."

She started to fall over again, laughing when he put his enormous hands on her shoulders to hold her steady. The lavender eyes lolled open, twinkling at him.

"I do not believe that I can stand."

He laughed softly. "You'll have to. I must dress and I cannot do that and hold you upright at the same time."

She wrinkled her nose at him, grinning, and it was his signal to let go and hunt down his clothes. He found his breeches, his boots, and finally his tunic, pulling them on in that order. The entire time, Cantia sat on the bed, nude, and watched him. As he pulled the tunic over his head, he caught her staring at him.

"Sweetheart, get dressed," he urged softly. "I must open the door and I should not like for your son to see you stark naked. He might spread vicious gossip and rumors."

She smiled dreamily, watching him push the copper curls from his eyes. "Why do men fear you so? Since I have known you, I have seen nothing to warrant that reputation. You are one of the sweetest, kindest and gentlest men I have ever met."

He lifted his big shoulders. "With you, I certainly would not want to display any behavior that suggestion destruction or death," he said. "On the field of battle, or with my men, my behavior is… different."

" How different?"

He glanced up at her. "Look at me. Do I not look brutal and big? Frightening, even? I assure you, the reputation is well earned and I am proud of it. It has served me well. In fact, my brother was the one who would tell war stories of my skill to any and all who would listen. He said there was no one in heaven or earth who could best me on the field of battle."

"What was your brother's name?"

"Torston."

"You said that he died. When did he die?"

Tevin thought back on his younger, taller, and more volatile brother. He had been a quick wit, a brilliant study, and far too rash. He missed him terribly. "In a skirmish four years ago," he said. "My father had been mortally wounded and when my brother went to aid him, he was cut down as well."

"Oh," Cantia was saddened at the thought. "I'm sorry for you. How old was he?"

"He had seen twenty-five years." He approached the bed, waving his big hands at her. "Cantia, hurry and dress."

She started, as if she had completely forgotten that she needed to put her clothes on, and quickly pulled her shift over her head. The emerald surcoat lay at her feet where Tevin had ripped it from her body and she picked it up, tossed it over a chair, and went to the massive wardrobe against the wall. Opening the doors, the smile suddenly disappeared from her face. Tevin, fussing with the tie of his breeches, noticed she had come to a halt. He glanced over at her, realizing there were tears in her eyes.

He went to her. "What's wrong, sweet?"

She shook her head, blinking away the tears. "'Tis… only that Brac's clothes are still here. I keep forgetting. I must remove them."

Tevin looked at the jumble of garments, tunics and leather breeches and pieces he did not recognize. "You do not have to remove them until you are ready."

She looked at him, the light of surprise in her eyes. "Do you think I am not ready? Do you think I would have carried on with you all night as we did if I was not ready?"

He put his hands on her in a calming gesture. "I did not mean to offend you. I simply meant that you will not be forced to do anything you are not ready to do."

She reached in and began pulling the cluster of clothes out, onto the floor. Hunt yelled at his mother, again, and she shifted from Brac's clothes to her own, pulling a durable broadcloth surcoat on and securing it with a leather girdle.

"Coming, Hunt. Be patient."

Tevin had already walked to the door, his hand on the lock as he watched Cantia cinch up the girdle. She had a deliciously narrow waist, making her breasts appear rounder and larger. His thoughts began to turn lustful again but he fought them. Now was not the time. They had been selfish enough. Still, after a night like the one they had just spent together, he knew his thoughts would be only of her. It would be difficult to deal with his cousin and the situation the man brought with him.

The girdle was finally fastened and she smiled at him, slipping on the small leather slippers that would cover her feet. He smiled in return, feeling weak and warm and giddy. Over the past day, their relationship had deepened and expanded into something he had never known to exist. He couldn't even remember his life before this woman was a part of it and the warmth he felt, the satisfaction, was more than he could describe. It blanketed him, like a warm, enveloping embrace that encompassed his entire being. He felt so very fortunate.

"I shall open the door," he said quietly. "Let the boy see only you and I shall slip out when his attention is on his mother."

She nodded, moving towards the door. He reached out, touching her cheek, as she came near. Then he unlocked the door and pulled it back.

Hunt sat in front of the door with a ball in his hand. George, the dog, lay beside him, gnawing on his paw. Hunt looked up sharply from his toy as the door opened, his face full of impatience at his mother.

"I'm hungry ," he said firmly. "I want porridge and honey!"

She lifted an eyebrow. "I am not sure I approve of your tone," she reached down and pulled him into the room, making sure to keep his back to Tevin. "Come in here now. I must speak with you."

Tevin, seeing the boy was properly distracted, slipped from the chamber. George wagged his tail at him, doggy eyes the only witness to the viscount being in Lady Cantia's room. With her peripheral vision, Cantia saw Tevin disappear as she lifted her son up and kissed his face repeatedly.

"Mam!" he shoved against her, wanting to be put down. "I'm hungry !"

"I know," she set him down on the floor. "But we have a serious matter to discuss and it cannot wait."

He wasn't particularly interested. "What?"

Cantia sat on the edge of the bed so that she would be closer to his eye level. "The Earl of East Anglia arrived earlier. Did you know that?"

He shrugged, shook his head, and tossed the ball at George. Cantia grasped his arm gently to force him to focus on her.

"The earl is a very important and very busy man," she continued. "Although Rochester is your home, I must ask you to stay in my chamber with me until Lord Tevin tells us that we may leave to go about our business. That means that, for now, you cannot go outside and play. You must stay in here with me. We must…hide. Like when you play a hiding game. We are going to play a game."

He looked at her with his big blue eyes. "Why are we hiding?"

"Because we must not bother the earl. We must be silent and obedient and invisible. Do you know what invisible means?" When he shook his head, she continued. "It means that he must not see us. We must be like a ghost."

Hunt's face lit up. "I want to be a ghost!"

She smiled at him. "Of course you do. He must not see you at all. If you are very good and the earl never sees you, then there shall be a reward waiting for you when he leaves."

His happy face grew happier. "What reward?"

"What would you like?"

"Armor!" he shouted. "I want armor like my da!"

Her smiled faded. His innocent words depressed her so, whether because it once again reminded her of her now-fatherless son or because she imagined him as a grown warrior, she did not know. All she knew was that her son wanted to grow up so fast, to leave her and become a man. She wasn't ready to let him go yet.

"We will discuss it further when the earl leaves," she told him. "But if he sees you at all, no reward. No armor, no anything. Do you understand? This is important, Hunt."

He nodded emphatically. "Good," his mother said. "Now, I believe Lord Tevin is bringing us food. We will wait here for him."

"Do we have to be a ghost for him, too?" Hunt wanted to know.

She shook her head, her gaze drifting to the mussed bedclothes on the floor beside the bed. Just to look at them gave her a shudder of pleasure.

"Nay," she said, hoping she didn't sound as breathless as she felt. "We will not hide from him."