She had bathed, and now her golden hair was damp and smooth, and she was wearing one of Jenova’s blue gowns, which was much too long for her. She had tucked it up around her girdle to prevent herself from tripping on the hem.
“My lady,” he murmured and bent to kiss her mouth.
She clung to his neck, stretching up onto her toes, with her body pressed to his. “Reynard,” she breathed against his cheek and smiled. “I am ready,” she added.
He leaned back to look at her, a question in his dark eyes.
“You said you would enjoy me when I was ready to enjoy you. I am ready.”
His breath came a little faster. “Rhona, are you…”
She put her fingertip to his lips. “I know what I am saying,” she told him firmly. “I have never been more sure.”
“I wanted to love you on a warm beach, with the blue sky above and the sea whispering against the shore.”
Rhona laughed softly. “You are a poet, my Reynard. You can love me there, if you like, but I know a soft warm bed which would be just as wonderful.” She hesitated, doubt in her eyes now. “Perhaps I am too bold. I have never…this is the first time I have ever lain with a man I truly love. A man I want so much it makes me ache.”
He groaned softly and kissed her again. “You must show me to your bed, my lady,” he said, “but not yet. I would wed you first.”
Rhona blinked, taken by surprise, and then she smiled. “Aye,” she whispered. “I would like that…”
Henry had run to the stables to saddle Lamb, and he found Jenova there before him. She was ordering the stableboys about, her brown hair loose about her shoulders, her green eyes wide and shadowed with anxiety. She turned as he reached her, and she moved close to him, her hand upon his chest.
“Henry, be careful.”
“And you, my love. I will be back as soon as I can.”
She gazed into his eyes as if she would memorize them, and he felt a jolt straight to his heart.
“I love you, Henry,” she said, oblivious to his men, who were beginning to gather about them, and the stableboys rushing to saddle horses. “I cannot live without you. There, I have said it. I have opened my heart to you, just as you did to me. Mortred hurt me, so that I thought I was afraid to love again, but then you came and…I could not stop it, no matter how I tried.”
Someone cleared his throat, but Henry did not notice. He bent his head and kissed her, his lips soft and serious against hers. A pledge.
“Jenova, my sweetest love, will you let me stay at Gunlinghorn? Will you marry me and let me live with you here, until I am so old I am no longer of use to you or anyone else? This is my home, and you and Raf are my family, and I cannot go. If I go I will be nothing, my life will be nothing. I love you.” He suddenly looked lighter of spirit, and some of the shadows had left his eyes. “I love you,” he said again. “You are everything to me.”
Jenova felt herself smiling so broadly that it hurt. She put her hands up, one on either side of his face, and held him still. He was rumpled and untidy; so unlike Henry. She had broken through his handsome armor and found this man, who was weary and worn, a little afraid and very vulnerable, and who had suffered terribly. No doubt he would soon resume his charming, handsome façade, but now she knew that this was the real Henry. And she loved him.
“Oh Henry, of course I want you to stay with me always. I was worried you would be bored with us here, that you would long for your old life back again. I could not bear it if you grew weary of us,” she whispered, tears filling her green eyes.
“Weary?” he said, and laughed with sheer joy. “It is my old life that wearies me. You are everything to me, Jenova. I have been adrift for so many years I had forgotten what it was like to belong, perhaps I was afraid to belong. If I gave too much, then I thought I would be hurt. But now I know that the pain is worth it, if I can have you. I will never leave you.”
She kissed him resoundingly, and there was a muffled cheering and more throat clearing. Realizing they had an audience, Henry glanced up and noticed several of his men surreptitiously wiping tears from their eyes. It was a moment to be long remembered.
However, Jean-Paul was about to escape, and Henry knew he must try and stop him.
“I have to go.”
Lamb was ready, and Henry climbed into the saddle with graceful ease. Jenova looked up at him, still smiling, her green eyes shining.
“Come back to me,” she said.
“Always.”
And he was gone, leading his men from the stable and out into the bailey. The gate opened as they approached, and they were soon pounding away from Gunlinghorn Castle, heading for the harbor.
“Keep safe,” Jenova whispered. “My dearest love.”
The dawn had arrived in truth now, the gray sky washed with pale light. Henry put his head down and rode hard, feeling the wind on his face and knowing that same wind would soon be filling the sails of the boat that could take Jean-Paul far beyond his reach.