Ginny Hartman Page 11

  Rosalind smiled as Millicent turned towards her. She surprised her by throwing her arms around her much as she had done to Terric. The freshly erected dam in Rosalind's heart burst at the display of motherly affection. Hot tears flowed freely from her eyes as her throat ached with emotion. She clung tightly to Millicent's small frame, realizing that she'd never hug her mother again. Millicent didn't seem bothered in the least by her outburst, but clung to her just as tightly in return, her hands rubbing Rosalind's back in slow, methodical circles as she tried to soothe her.

  When Rosalind was finally able to tame her emotions, she felt embarrassed by what had just occurred. She pulled back and rubbed the moisture from her cheeks. “I apologize for my actions; it's just that I...”

  Terric placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Rosalind has just learned that both of her parents have been killed.” Millicent and Gwendolyn both audibly gasped. Terric continued, “There was an attack on Kind Cedric, and unfortunately, they got caught in the midst of things.”

  “King Cedric, is he dead as well?” Millicent ask, her voice shaking.

  “Nay, but he has gone into hiding. He sent me to retrieve Rosalind, who is now Queen of the southwest territory. I was on my way to deliver her to Peltis, where King Cedric has gone, when Aeden was sent to deliver me a message. Prince Colin was attacked before they left, fortunately he survived. King Cedric no longer felt it safe to bring Rosalind to him until we find out who is behind these attacks. I fear that somebody is aware of her parent's death and is now seeking to overtake the southwest. Aeden and I thought that here would be the safest place to hide her. Of course, what I'm asking you to do also entails some risk.”

  “You know I would do anything for the Kingdom. Princess Rosalind will stay here as long as necessary.” Rosalind was relieved to hear Millicent speak the words, for some part of her had dreaded that Terric's family would turn her away. Millicent turned to Gwendolyn, “Take her highness up to your chambers and help her dress in some warm, dry clothes while I finish discussing matters with Terric.”

  Rosalind could sense there was some hesitation in Gwendolyn, but when Millicent gave her a stern look, she quickly complied. “Follow me,” she said, turning and walking across the great hall. Rosalind briefly looked at Terric, suddenly unsure of everything. His slight smile encouraged her to follow Gwendolyn, though she was loathe to leave him.

  As soon as they were out of the great hall, Gwendolyn led her to a spiral staircase that wound them up to the second floor. Rosalind shivered under the wet clothing still clinging to her frame, anxious to get them off of her. They entered a large, rectangular room before stopping. There were small windows at the end of each room with a large fireplace carved into the stone in the center. Three modest beds were lined up against the long wall, with only a small space between each one. Gwendolyn bent to add a log to the fire. Rising, she smiled at Rosalind sympathetically, “I will retrieve you one of my gowns to wear. I apologize that I won't be able to offer you anything as fine as what you are accustomed to.”

  “Anything you have will be appreciated,” she replied honestly. As soon as Gwendolyn left, she stripped the itchy cloak from her anxiously, letting it fall to a pile on the floor. She then scurried over to the fireplace, anxious to partake of its warmth.

  In no time at all, Gwendolyn returned, carrying a simple, dark green gown in her arms. She laid it down on the bed closest to the fireplace, along with a fresh chemise. “Would you like me to assist you with your dressing?”

  “I can manage,” Rosalind replied.

  Gwendolyn pretended to be busy as she flitted around the room and straightened the bedding on all three beds in an attempt to give Rosalind her privacy. Rosalind changed quickly, grateful for the dry clothing, though the dress did not fit her as well as her own custom made gowns did. The hem of her dress barely came to her ankles, the sleeves left much of her wrists exposed, while the bodice was fit snugly across her breasts. She used her fingers to comb some knots out of her damp hair. “Thank you for your kindness.”

  Rosalind stopped what she was doing, her eyes taking in Rosalind's appearance. She startled Rosalind by letting out a short giggle before clamping her hands over her mouth self-consciously. “I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I never imagined seeing a Princess in one of my gowns. My clothing appears so shabby next to your exquisite beauty.”

  Rosalind giggled in response, “Please don't use such flattery with me; it only embarrasses me. This dress is better than any gown I have ever owned.”

  “It is?”

  “Of course, tis much better, for the skirt will never get in the way when I run, causing me to trip over myself.” She stuck her feet out as if to demonstrate. “And these sleeves will never get soiled in my food,” she held out her wrists turning them over so Gwendolyn could see. “And my chest will never attract unwanted attention from a suitor, for it is bound so tightly to my ribs.”

  Gwendolyn giggled, as she sat unladylike on the bed, “I do not wish to offend, but I beg to differ, the tight bodice only serves to enhance what the good Lord has blessed you with. You may want to cover yourself with a shawl before returning to my brother's presence.”

  The reference to Terric made Rosalind blush, causing Gwendolyn to giggle even more. Finally, she went and retrieved a shawl, which Rosalind wrapped tightly around her shoulders, making sure to cover her chest completely before following Gwendolyn once more to the Great Hall.

  Chapter 14

  An Impossible Promise

  Terric had finished explaining, in detail, the circumstance of Rosalind being brought to their home, his mother listening intently to ever detail, even details he hadn't made known to Rosalind. His mother was a strong woman, very rarely prone to emotional outbursts. He knew he could share anything with her without upsetting her sensibilities.

  When he was finished telling her all about King Eustace and Queen Constance's horrendous deaths, compassion filled her eyes. “That poor child has had to endure a great loss. I promise I will take care of her in your absence.”

  “I know you will. The entire Kingdom has suffered a great loss as well, and it's my duty to see that justice is served, that Darth remains safe. I must return to King Cedric immediately.”

  “Please stay for supper, then you can leave,” she said. Terric looked down at his mother, tempted by the promise of a warm, home-cooked meal, but knowing he had to be on his way as soon as possible. He felt anxious to leave, to see for himself that King Cedric was well.

  “I can't stay,” he said with finality, but he didn't miss the look of disappointment that crossed her face. He knew she wouldn't insist further, for he knew his mother well enough to know that she would never beg him to go against his duties to the King. Her loyalty to and support of the Kingdom of Darth was something he had always admired about her.

  “At least change your clothing before leaving,” she urged sensibly.

  “There's no need to coddle me, I will be fine. I must be on my way.”

  “You are leaving?” Terric's head snapped up to see his sister entering the room, Rosalind trailing behind her. Gwendolyn was rushing towards him, clearly upset by his declaration. “You only just got here, please tell me you don't mean to go.”

  “I have to be on my way, Gwen.”

  “At least stay for supper,” she begged. She was so much like his mother, he couldn't help but smile.

  Rosalind stepped forward, looking just as beautiful to him as she had always been in spite of her borrowed clothing. Her violet eyes were dark and apprehensive, “Please stay,” she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.

  Her simple, two word plea was almost enough to make him reconsider. An urge to protect her swelled within him. He hated seeing the sadness in her eyes. But though he desperately wanted to stay with her, he knew he couldn't. “Please walk me to my horse,” he urged, hoping his sister wouldn't decide to follow them. He knew she was a curious thing, but he wanted his farewell to Rosalind to be done in private.
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br />   He was relieved when Rosalind followed him, and grateful to his mother for putting her hand on Gwendolyn's arm to keep her from doing the same. They both kept silent as they walked outside and towards where Stephen was grazing in the courtyard.

  Terric paused before reaching Stephen, turning to face Rosalind. He suddenly felt awkward, unsure of what he was going to say to her now that they were alone. Was she expecting him to bid her a formal farewell, or perhaps did she desire for something a little more personal, a little more intimate? He watched her, hoping he could decipher something in her manner that would indicate what she wanted from him, but he was unable to read her. Still unable to think of what to say, he turned towards Stephen and reached up to retrieve her small satchel for her.

  “Terric, don't go!” he heard her scream from behind him.

  Turning, he noticed she had almost run into his back. She was standing so close to him, the white shawl that had been wrapped around her shoulders had fallen to the ground, exposing an indecent amount of cleavage. Terric sucked in sharply, his mouth going dry. He couldn't think; he could only stare.

  Luckily, she didn't notice. “Please Terric, don't leave without saying goodbye.”

  The frantic sorrow in her voice distracted him from her exposed skin. “I hadn't planned on leaving without a goodbye; I was just reaching for your satchel.”

  Her face blushed attractively when she realized her desperation was for naught. He reached forth and cupped her face in his hands. “You will be safe here. I must go see that the rest of your family will be safe as well. It is my duty.”

  “I understand,” she mumbled. “But do you promise you will come back to me?”

  He knew what she was asking. What she really wanted him to promise was that he wouldn't die, that nothing would happen to him, but he couldn't do that. He was honor bound to King Cedric and he knew that if it came to it, he would willingly sacrifice his own life for the king's safety. He couldn't promise her anything, though he wanted nothing more to return to her, to hold her in his arms forever. Instead of answering her, he bent his head to hers. Her face tilted up to meet his, her breath coming in short puffs as she waited for his lips to meet her own.

  She clung to him furiously as he covered her mouth with his, her tender lips responding urgently to his own hungry kiss. He could feel his heart beating madly against his chest as he wrapped his fingers into her wild hair, tugging on it as she groaned. She pressed a scorching kiss to his jaw then to his neck, his body tensing with desire.

  He was pulsing, throbbing with a need that couldn't be fulfilled, when the object of his need pulled back and whispered fiercely, “Promise me, Terric de Valles, that you will come back to me. Promise.”

  He almost couldn't see past his need for her, his desire to give her everything she wanted, everything she needed. And in that moment, he knew she needed his promise, but he couldn't give it to her. He pulled himself painfully away from her, mounted Stephen and galloped towards the gatehouse, trying to block out the need in his heart, the same need he saw mirrored in her own eyes.

  ***

  For the second time that day Rosalind felt unexpectedly overcome with emotion. Terric had left her with no promise. Did he not want to come back to her? She had kissed him so passionately, trying to explain with her kisses how much he had come to mean to her, yet it hadn't been enough to secure his promise. Perhaps she didn't mean the same to him. Her heart ached at the thought.

  She stood in the courtyard alone, staring at the spot where Terric had just kissed her. She was unaware of how much time passed, the only thing she knew was the aching, burning of her heart and the despair and loneliness that she felt, especially now that Terric was gone.

  She wasn't even aware of anyone coming up behind her until she felt the gentle pressure of a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she turned to see who was there. Standing behind her was Millicent, a look of compassion on her face. Rosalind looked into her blue eyes, so much like Terric's, and she wanted to weep. As if she could sense her despair, Millicent reached for her hand and said, “Come, you've had an exhausting couple of days. I insist you go rest for a spell.” Rosalind followed her obediently inside, for she truly was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and fall asleep and forget the reasons for her sadness.

  As they reached the bedchamber, Millicent went to the farthest bed, the bed directly in front of the fireplace and pulled down the covers. “Here child, come crawl inside.” Again, Rosalind did as she was told. Her body sunk into the mattress as Millicent covered her with the quilts, tucking her in tenderly. The last thing Rosalind remembered before drifting asleep was Millicent gently brushing her hair back from her face, a loving gesture that comforted her at a time she thought that no comfort could be found.

  As she slept she dreamed of her parents, of happier times when they were alive. When she woke up, the room was dark and for a moment she didn't remember where she was. She had expected to awaken in her own room, to have Brigit ready nearby to help her with anything she may need, but instead the room was empty. She peeled back the quilts and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She could see the faint outlines of the other two beds in the room, and all at once she could acutely remember where she was. She was in Terric's home and her dreams were just that, dreams. She could never go back to living her previous life, and she wasn't sure what her future held, besides the fact that she would be expected to rule from Herfordshire Castle as the queen of the southwest.

  But, she wasn't ready to think of that now. Instead she slowly made her way from the room and down the stairs in the dark. Her steps were slow and cautious, but she made it to the great hall without any mishaps. The fire was still burning strong, and the sconces along the wall held candles that were burning bright. In one corner Millicent sat in a chair sewing while Gwendolyn sat next to her playing the harp. Rosalind stood and listened to the music, charmed and soothed by the melodic tune she was playing.

  When Gwendolyn finished the song, she stopped the humming of the strings by pressing her hands gently on both sides of them. “Your Highness, you are awake.”

  “Aye, I am. I cannot believe I slept so long. And please, just call me Rosalind.”

  Millicent set her sewing down in her lap, “Dinner has long since been served but I will ask one of the servants to prepare you a plate.”

  “Thank you.”

  As soon as Millicent left, Gwendolyn instructed Rosalind to sit in a chair alongside her. “I hardly expected you to sleep all day.”

  “I was so tired, but I'll probably be up all night now.”

  “I'm sorry to hear about your parents. Darth has experienced a great loss, they were truly good rulers.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. She didn't want to talk about her parents but didn't want to be rude to the people who were doing so much for her. Fortunately, Millicent returned and saved her from having to speak anymore.

  “The servants will be here shortly with your dinner.”

  “Thank you. What are you sewing?” Rosalind asked as Millicent picked up the soft, yellow linen she was stitching.

  Holding it up, Millicent said, “It's a dress. For you. I thought you might want to wear something that fit you better than Gwendolyn's gowns.” Rosalind was touched by her kindness. “It's nowhere near the quality you are accustomed to, but it will certainly be more comfortable for you. Now, tell us something about yourself. You may be here for some time, and we'd be honored to get to know you better.”

  “Well,” she thought for a moment, “I don't do much sewing or embroidery, so I'm truly grateful for your skill in that department. If I were left to my own devices, I would end up going naked. I never did enjoy embroidery, much to my mother's chagrin. I always managed to spend more time pricking my fingers then the fabric.”

  Millicent laughed. “I can understand that, Gwendolyn has such a reputation with a needle that we have expressly forbidden her from coming near one.” Rosalind looked at Gwendolyn, but instead of appearing emb
arrassed, she smiled brightly, as if she was proud of her lack of talent. “So, we know something you do not enjoy doing; now tell us something you do.”

  “I like to be outside. I like to run in the fields or pick herbs in the garden. Terric told me that you are a healer, which fascinates me incredibly.”

  “Yes, I've been doing it as long as I can remember. I've been training Gwendolyn in the art of healing as well.” Rosalind felt a pang of jealousy. Her own mother had always tried to prohibit her desire to learn of nature. How would it have been to have a mother that not only understood her interests but shared them as well?

  “Mayhap you can teach me some things too?” she blurted, surprising even herself when she voiced the suggestion.

  “Of course, I would be honored.”

  Rosalind smiled. For the first time she was excited at the prospect of being here. If she focused on the things Millicent would teach her, mayhap she could block out the tragedy of her parents’ loss and forget about the loneliness that Terric's absence had caused.

  Chapter 15

  Confessions

  Terric's mood was unusually dark when he finally reached Peltis. He had never been overly impressed with the black fortress of Malton Castle; it was much too dark and foreboding. The lack of sleep was getting to him, as well as having to leave Rosalind behind. He hated leaving without even a goodbye, but he knew he couldn't give her what she wanted.

  Just before entering the castle's gate, he had stopped to replace the drab, brown tunic Aeden had brought him with his own black tunic. He would need it to pass by the guards, for it clearly signaled his place as King Cedric's lead defender. He felt relieved to have the familiar tunic back on. It had become so much a part of him he had felt odd without it.

  The guards of Malton Castle were as unfriendly as the Kingdom itself. They nodded stiffly at him as he passed on his way to the keep, their eyes flicking to the slash of red fabric at his shoulder, before once more staring straight ahead, as if they had hardly noticed him at all. It was all very well to him, for he was in no mood to socialize anyway.