The Rose and the Shield (Medieval 2) - Page 98

“Hmm.” She sighed and curled her arms about his neck, nuzzling his jaw, enjoying the scratchy feel of it.

He stiffened and then relaxed, his hand smoothing back her sweet-scented hair. “Lady? I am come to say goodbye.”

That got her attention.

Rose’s eyes opened wide, and she leaned back to give him a startled glance. “Goodbye?” she repeated. Then, as if suddenly realizing where they were, she sat up, making space between them. “I cannot think. What do you here in my chamber?”

Gunnar sighed, and propped himself up on one elbow as if he belonged in her bed. “I did not mean to come here at all, but then I could not go without saying goodbye. We have work in the north, there has been a skirmish and Radulf wants us to travel to Lily’s lands and—”

“You mean, go away?”

He gave her a long look. “Aye, Rose, that is what I said. We are going away. I will not see you again for—” But he shook his head, and his mouth turned grim. “I will not see you again.”

She shook her head back and forth, several times. “No! I will not allow it. Radulf can send Ivo. You are needed here, Gunnar. Somerford…Somerford needs you. Even Radulf agrees with me on that!”

He blinked slowly, as if to give himself time to assimilate what she had just said.

“I know you gave up your rights to my lands, and I am grateful. I don’t know why you did it, but—”

“They were always yours, Rose. Besides, I did not take Somerford back for you as I promised. Radulf and Ivo did that. I was not worthy to take your lands anyway because my vow was not properly honored.”

Rose stared at him. “But you did give me back Somerford! If it had not been for you, I would have lost everything. I would have been dead, or worse. My father would have given me to Miles, you know that, don’t you? You saved me from that, Gunnar.” Her voice wavered and stopped.

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Maybe.” He glanced at her sideways, still propped up on his elbow, his long body on the rumpled covers of her bed. “You are Fitzmorton’s daughter,” he said, as if that were an answer.

“Aye, his bastard daughter. It means nothing.”

“You are the daughter of a powerful lord, lady. It means something.”

Is that why he had left? Because he thought himself too lowly for her now? Rose could not bear it. Constance was right—there was more to a man than his blood relatives. There was what he was inside, what he did with his life, whether the travails he faced strengthened or diminished him.

Gunnar was strong, and he had come into her life and made her strong, too. But it was more than that. She loved him, she needed him. She was not her mother, pleading for Fitzmorton’s cruel love. She was Lady Rose, and she loved a man who was her equal. Her complement. And if he should go from her now, then winning back Somerford would be a hollow victory.

Rose shook her head, and suddenly she was walking toward him, her hands clenched into fists by her sides. “Gunnar, please, please don’t leave me. Please don’t go north. I want you…I need you here, with me. I cannot be the Lady of Somerford unless you are by my side. I am sick with longing for you. Stay with me and be my shield.”

Still he said nothing, watching her. “Do you trust me?” he asked her quietly.

“Aye, I do. I will. I know now that what you told me was part of your mission for Radulf. You had to pretend. Lives depended on it. I understand that.” She was gazing at him so earnestly. “You would never betray me, Gunnar.”

“No, I would not,” he vowed softly. He reached out and caught her hand with his fingers, drawing her onto the bed and into his arms. She went with a gasping laugh.

His body rolled onto hers, pinning her down. He was fully dressed, even down to his sword and his boots. She didn’t care. He was her man, her warrior, and she loved him.

Rose tried the words out in her head and they sounded good. She tried them out loud.

“I love you, Gunnar.”

He smiled slowly, his blue eyes blazing down at her. “I love you, too, lady.”

“Then kiss me, Gunnar, for I can’t wait any longer.”

“But do you command me, Rose?”

She laughed, stretching up until her mouth brushed his. “Aye, I command you, Gunnar.”

And so he did.

Tags: Sara Bennett Medieval Historical
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