Her step behind him, her hand on his arm. “Ivo,” she whispered, her voice shaking with tears. “Ivo, you will not fail me. You have never failed me. I trust you with my life, just as Matilda did. It was neither your fault nor hers that such a tragedy happened. How can you blame yourself for it?”
“Nay!” he said, and his voice broke with emotion. “She is dead because of me.”
“She would not blame you—”
“You do not know the rest, lady. Let me tell you the rest,” he blurted out, bitterness curdling inside him. “After I had left my home, Miles squandered all he had, and was forced to hire out his knightly services for money. One day I arrived to take my place with a baron hiring men, and found my brother also there.
“He begged me to forgive him. He said he wanted the past forgotten. He said his heart was sore because of what had happened to Matilda. And I believed him.”
“You wanted to believe him, Ivo,” she said quietly, her fingers stroking his sleeve. He could feel her trying to see his face, but he turned it into the shadows.
“It was all a lie,” he went on bleakly. “He just wanted to destroy the only thing of value I had left. He tricked me, and lost me my knighthood.
He lied, and I believed him. I betrayed Matilda all over again.” His voice rose and broke.
“He lied, Ivo. Aye, he lied.”
“I should never have believed him…”
“You cannot help your nature.” She slipped her cool fingers under his chin and gently but firmly turned his face toward hers. The tears were hot on his cheeks, and he tried to pull away, but she would not allow it. She gazed up at him, compassionately, lovingly, understandingly. Ivo went very still.
“Ivo, you think the best of people. You want to believe in them. You wanted to believe that Miles had changed, because you are yourself a good man. Evil is as foreign to you as cowardice. It defeated you because you could not comprehend it. Oh my love, Matilda came to you because of who you were, who you are. Do not condemn yourself and her because a single moment of fear made her say things that were untrue.”
She stretched up and kissed his lips, her own so gentle.
“You are a good man, Ivo, and that is the reason that Miles hates you. Because you are good, and people love you, and they will never love him.”
Suddenly the strength went out of him. He sagged, and she caught him in her arms, steadying him. Ivo gave a ragged sigh, and dropped his head to her breast, and she wrapped him close, rocking him gently as if he were a child.
“I nearly died then,” he muttered. “I wandered in the forests with the outlaws. If Gunnar Olafson hadn’t found me, I would have died. He gave me back a life. But, lady, you have given me back my heart.”
For a long time Ivo lay his head against her, savoring her comfort, feeling the bitterness leaking out of him. It was not something that she could repair in an hour, or a day, or perhaps not even a year. But Ivo knew she would make him whole, one day. And the knowledge gave him a wonderful sense of peace and tranquillity, something he had not felt since he was a young squire, in the Kenton household.
After a time Briar took his face in her hands, lifting him so that she could look into his eyes. He blinked at her as if he had been sleeping, and she shook him gently, to catch his full attention. Her voice when she spoke was deadly serious.
“You must not trust him again, Ivo. No matter what he tells you, no matter what he says, you must not believe it. You must never soften to him. He is evil through and through, and for such as he there is no redemption in this world.”
Ivo’s eyes were alert and fierce, staring into hers. “He has maimed me, murdered my beloved sister and had me disgraced, and now he has turned his attentions to you. It is enough. I will not risk your life, Briar, that is why I have asked Lord Radulf for his help. I do not trust myself alone, but I trust him.”
She stroked his cheek.
“I have wondered often why he wants me dead. It may be as you say, and he hates me because he cannot be me, and yet…Perhaps, until I am dead, he will never be free of our joint memories. I know him better than any other person, and while I live he cannot pretend to be other than what he is. I am his conscience, Briar, and while I am alive, I will always be watching him and judging him and reminding him of what he is.”
Briar nodded slowly, tracing the shape of his lips with her fingertips. “He is so much lesser than you, Ivo, and he would resent it, and in time resentment might grow into a hatred so intense it becomes unstoppable.”
“I will have to kill him,” Ivo said quietly. “My brother, my own blood. I will have to fight him and win. He must die, for your sake, and the sake of our babe.”
He leaned forward and kissed her mouth, slowly, gently. Worshiping her. He tasted the salt of tears and the warmth of her love. She came into his arms, willingly, and it was as if there were no boundaries dividing them. No secrets.
He was free. And it was a heady thought, after all these years.
The rain was light outside, but here inside their cozy dwelling by the river, it was warm. Briar drank down the brew Jocelyn had concocted for her, and felt her stomach settle. Her nausea was passing, or mayhap she was just growing more resigned to it.
Ivo had brought her back to her cottage, but there were men to guard her. He had not wanted to let her out of Lord Radulf’s house, but she had insisted.
“We are not wed yet, Ivo. It will be soon enough then for you to manage my life. But for now, I will go home, thank you, and prepare myself to become your wife. Besides, I have my sisters to tell. I want to spend my last evening with them.”
And she had had her way.