Chapter 22

Twenty-Two

Immediately after spending alms for Lady Ayleth's soul, Wilhelm was preparing again to travel. Grateful for the donation, and perhaps feeling aggrieved for all his troubles and fresh scars, the nuns provided him a sack full of victuals and profuse thanks he endured with flushed cheeks.

Giles perhaps would have provided him the alms, but Rosalynde had stepped forward to offer her own—all five gold marks she'd sewn into the hem of her gown. It was the least she could do for the service these brothers were providing, and she had every faith Elspeth would provide for her once Giles delivered her to Aldergh.

When both men had looked at her with a question in their eyes, she'd merely shrugged. "I did tell you I had five gold marks, did I not?"

And yet, clearly, her heartfelt gesture moved Wilhelm, because a twinkle appeared in the warrior's dark eyes. "Thank you… Lady Rosalynde," he said. The title came diffidently to his lips for the first time since meeting her, and the bear of a man stepped forward to offer one more heartfelt embrace. Rosalynde hugged him fiercely, even as she cast a glance at his brother.

There wasno way around it; Wilhelm must return to Warkworth to welcome the supply ships. As important as it was to deliver Rosalynde and her grimoire, that was Giles's primary objective, and Wilhelm was the only man he trusted.

Rather than procure another mount, he and Rosalynde would travel together. Greedy perhaps, but he wanted her as close to him as possible, even if it slowed their pace.

She glanced at him now, and his heart squeezed.

She was afraid, he sensed. So, too, was Wilhelm. So was Giles, if the truth be known. And yet, it wouldn't serve anyone to confess the truth. He must keep his wits about him… and what was more, he must keep his sanity. If, ever, his faith had failed him, he must find a way to renew it, because God alone could help them now.

Although his past works had more than oft crippled his faith, he saw the madness behind the Guard's methods. Evil could not be vanquished by might alone, nor could it be won by honor and justice. Indeed, God worked in mysterious ways. And yet, he had few illusions. He was but a lone man, and it would take every means available to defeat this rising evil.

So much depended upon his duty to the Guard—and now, to Rosalynde—that his shoulders felt heavy with the burden. But now Wilhelm understood so much without having to be given explanations, and he and his brother had found a new accord. Mounted now, and ready to ride, Wilhelm sought his gaze, and Giles could see the uncertainty nestled in his dark eyes. His elder brother and self-appointed guardian would never willingly abandon his side. "Art certain, Giles?"

Giles nodded. "Now that you… know… I trust you most to see to what must be done. Rosalynde and I will continue together." There was great meaning in the words that followed. "I need you, my brother." And one day, when he could, he would reward his loyalty.

His brother's face was pinched, worried, and Giles could tell that he was reluctant to go. But, for all that they'd endured and all the discord that had passed between them, Giles trusted now that he would heed his commands, down to the letter. Their relationship, too, had changed—as thoroughly as with Rosalynde—even despite that they had yet to speak of it.

Later, when they had a moment alone, once the mission was complete, he would explain everything to Wilhelm in far greater detail. And, once the evil in this land was banished, he and Rosalynde—he gazed warmly at the woman standing beside him—would tell stories of this for years to come. Somehow, though he didn't know why he knew it, he knew it to be true. He felt a bond with her that he couldn't explain, nor did he believe for an instant that God had put them together without purpose. And yet… his heart writhed with anguish, because he had a duty to uphold, and so much as he felt in his heart that Rosalynde was destined to be the mother of his babes, he also now understood with a clarity borne of circumstance, how important it was to strengthen his dominion in the north—not merely for the sake of vengeance, but for England.

Wilhelm's knuckles whitened as he gripped his reins. His eyes said everything his mouth daren't utter. "Have care, my brother," he said.

"Worry not," said Giles. "I am capable."

And to that, the brothers shared the gravest of looks. "Only too well do I know it," said Wilhelm, as he held the courser's reins. "I have been blind, Giles. Fear blinded me to what my eyes should have understood from the moment you returned." And simply so as not to leave words unsaid, his brother offered apologies. "I am sorry," he said.

"Think no more of it," Giles said with a rueful smile.

Wilhelm inclined his head; then, his lips curved ever so slightly. "Mayhap some day you will teach me some of your… tricks?"

Giles lifted his brows. "Tricks?"

Wilhelm's lips turned into a wide, devious grin, and now, more than ever, he looked the part of a butcher, with a glint in his eyes that matched the glint of his steel, and a set to his shoulders that widened his substantial girth. His scars alone were enough to make a grown man piss himself, if only because to have survived such an ordeal, his strength was unquestionable.

"Godspeed," offered Giles, with a nod.

"Wait!"Rosalynde said, rushing forward when Wilhelm turned to leave. She had been silent, watching these two brothers—loving their devotion. Whatever discord had once existed between them was gone. She had no doubt they would die for one another, and perhaps they still might. "May I… give a blessing?" she dared ask.

For a long moment, Wilhelm merely looked at her, frowning, and despite his growing fondness for Rosalynde, she thought he might turn her away, just as he'd refused her healing. Clearly, he still didn't trust her magik. But he gave her a nod, and said, "I suspect I shall need all the help I can get."

She gave Giles a wary glance to gauge his reaction, but he, too, nodded, and Rosalynde swept forward, laying a hand on Wilhelm's courser, silently entreating a blessing from the Goddess. "Godspeed," she said, when she was through.

"And to you, my lady," said Wilhelm, giving her a nod, and then another to his lord brother before bolting away.

"Do you think he will fare well alone?"

Giles stood behind her, silent for a moment as the two of them watched Wilhelm go. "My brother is as capable as any," he said, at long last.

It was so much easier to speak her mind with her back to him. "Then perhaps you should say so… he longs for your validation." There was more she longed to say—so much more—but her lips suddenly would not part.

He met her counsel with silence, and the feeling was intensely awkward. And then, after a moment, she started at the feel of a hand gripping her elbow. He drew her back and turned her around to look her into her eyes. "I would rest the night here," he told her.

Rosalynde nodded.

His dark eyes held a silent message. "We have a long journey ahead, and we need rest, but… I prefer not to let you out of my sight."

Rosalynde nodded again, understanding.

"I would explain to Mother Helewys that you are my lady wife."

One last time, Rosalynde nodded, though her knees felt weak, and her heart beat painfully as she peered up, meeting his deep, dark eyes.

For a long, long moment, they merely stared at one another… and then, he moved closer, and lifted a hand to her cheek, then bent to press a small kiss to her forehead… then another over the bridge of her nose… and there… he allowed his lips to linger, warm and pliant against her already fevered skin.

At last, would they speak of the bonding? Was it possible that he, too, had heard the Goddess?

Rosalynde dared to hope.

After an excruciating moment, he slid a hand to her chin, lifting her face to his gaze… and he gave her one more, firm but chaste brush of his lips… upon the lips, and sweet though it might be, it held a certain promise in its tenderness.

"Can you stand by my side and give credence to my words, Rose?"

She loved the way he said her name—so intimately, and she would do anything he asked of her and more, but she realized it was one thing to stand by whilst Wilhelm offered the ladies of Neasham a handful of glittering gold, and yet another to stand before them in full view of their scrutiny, and answer as his wife.

"Of course," she said, though she worried.

What would happen if the prioress should happen to note her stolen habit? She didn't want to hide anymore—not with any glamour. But despite that the woolen material wasn't very fine, the needlework was very distinct, with the sisters' signature embroidery on the sleeves and hem. And still, Rosalynde hadn't the heart to confess as much to Giles. She didn't want him to know the depths of her deceptions, justified though they might be.

Her Welsh grandmother had had a saying for times like these… for times when fate lay beyond the control of mere mortals.

Beth fydd.

Whatever would be, would be.