Abbey!”
*
Seven
Mercia woke to darkness. The distant sound of the waves as they crashed against the beach drowned out her sadness. For long hours she lay there, unable to think, only to feel the pain in her chest. On every turn Rhodri’s scent taunted her. On every turn, she prayed with all her heart she would open her eyes and he would appear.
She closed her eyes and lay still, wondering if he had already said the vows to her sister, and if now as man and wife he touched Rowena as he had touched her. Jealousy flared. She could not help it. That Rowena would have him through eternity was more than Mercy could bear. She opened her eyes and sat up. A scream tore from her lips. A shadowed figure stood at the entrance to the cave.
He raised the small torch in his hand. She nearly died of happiness.
“Rhodri,” she breathed.
His handsome face was drawn in a dark scowl. But the brightness in his silvery eyes belied his wrath. He stepped into the cave. Slowly she stood.
“Why did you lie to me about who you were?”
She cast her eyes to the ground, then looked up at him, ashamed to admit the truth. “I have dreamed of being my sister, of being the beautiful one, the one all men longed for, of having a man such as yourself desire me.”
He dropped the torch to the pile of cold embers, and the fire flared. Rhodri reached out a hand and smoothed his fingertips along her cheek, then into her hair. He cupped the back of her head and he drew her to him. “You sell yourself short, Mercia. You are more of a woman.”
Mercia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. A mighty battle raged inside her. She wanted to melt into his arms and beg him to run away with her, but what little honor she had left she stood upon. “Please, milord, do not dishonor my sister by touching me so.” She backed away.
“Tell, me Lady Mercia, how is it that the times you came to me you were clad in nothing but rags, yet upon our meeting today you wore this finery, expertly patched as it is.”
“War is costly, sir. My father has given generously to Harold, then to Edric.”
“To the point of being destitute?”
She gasped, and she knew by her slight hesitation he knew the truth. She grabbed his hands. “You cannot deny Rowena! ‘Twill break her heart! She is a worthy wife!”
He scowled. “Would that you could take her place, would you?”
Wide-eyed she looked at him but shook her head. “I cannot. I am soiled, and I am promised to the nuns if they will still have me.”
“What of me, Mercy? Of us? What we shared? Does it not mean anything to you?”
“ Aye! It means everything to me!” She grabbed his hands and brought them to her lips. “I gave myself to you because I knew there was no one else for me. I gave myself to you because I knew in my heart you were promised to another. But I could not have stayed away if my life had depended on it.” She kissed his hands. “I am your always, Rhodri, but by contract you belong to my sister.” She looked up into his eyes, and something deep and powerful moved within her. She loved this man she had known only for a few short days with all her heart. “I am promised to the church, Rhodri.”
He pulled her into his embrace and kissed the top of her head. “I journey to Drury Abbey at first light. Your sire and sister will accompany me. I desire your company as well.”
She pulled away from him. “I cannot face my family! I have disgraced them. And the abbess will be most disappointed if I arrive with the object of my impropriety.”
He grabbed the torch and pulled her gently along with him. “Never fear, my love. You belong to me. I will not allow any man, woman, or child, kin, or no, to slander you.”
She tugged at his hand. “Rhodri. I cannot be seen with you. ‘Twill destroy my sister.”
“Then I will send you ahead this night with a few of my men. You presence will be required as I sort all this out.”
*
And so Mercia found herself the next
Learning to Kill: Stories