The Conqueror - Page 149

“Us. Us, in danger, and aye, you alone, too. I did it here, I did when I left you at the Saxon village, I did when I let you walk away from me into Saint Alban’s Abbey, alone. I have put you in danger over and over again, when it has served my ends. I abandoned you, and I lied to you, and I am sorry.”

She shook her head so vehemently hair fell all around her shoulders. “No, Griffyn. You cannot say you’re sorry. Not to me.”

“I am doing it. And I have more.” He half-rose, reached across the table, cupped her face in one of his hands and whispered: “I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you.”

Her breath exploded out in a gulping sob. She slid off the bench, to her knees, and laid her head in his lap, crying for the simple words she’d longed to hear her whole life, and to hear them now, from this good man, broke down all her barriers. She wept like a river. Wracking, hard sobs, quaking her body.

After a time, she became aware of his hand, gently stroking her head. She reached up blindly and touched his face. He held out his arms, for her to climb into his lap. She rose and swung one leg on each side, straddling him, her face a few inches above his. Her hair fell down around them like a cocoon. Griffyn rested his hands on her hips.

“And now, you tell me you forgive me too,” he said hoarsely, like he needed to hear it. She shook her head.

“No matter what you say, there’s nothing you’ve done that needs forgiving. But I will give you something I think you need more.” She leaned close and whispered just above his lips, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

A corner of his mouth lifted and he leaned his forehead into hers. They sat that way for a long time, his hands on her hips, her forearms slung long over his shoulders, her hair falling like a dark curtain around them. His breath was unsteady for some of the time, hitching here and there, then it calmed and grew steady again. His thighs were powerful beneath her legs.

“Isn’t there a bridge around here that needs defending?” she asked softly.

His hand tightened on her hips, then slid up her ribs. “Truth,” he muttered, his words rough-edged. “We do know each other from the inside out.”

“Let’s be gentle.”

“Indeed.”

By now, the sun was starting to come up. The storm had spent itself. Bright, crisp, yellow light streamed though the eastern window. They were quiet for the longest time, their foreheads still touching.

“Henri will be here soon,” she murmured. “I’ll make sure you…” Her voice faded away. She had nothing left to finish the sentence with. She would what?

“Do not worry on Henri’s account.”

“I worry on your account,” she replied with a shaky laugh.

“Henri and I have a long history, Gwyn. He knows me. I am not worried.”

She blew out a breath of air.

“Tell me you love me again,” he murmured against her neck.

“I love you again.”

His fingertips stroked down her back.

“We’ll be husband and wife in a few hours,” she observed in a quiet voice.

He entwined their fingers and kissed them, one by one. “We already are.”

Epilogue

Rain washed over the little church like a sparkling waterfall throughout the marriage ceremony. Henri fitzEmpress had arrived, his explosive Angevin temper in fine display, but, as Griffyn had known, his mind was sharper than his tongue, and he quickly stopped breathing fire when he heard the particulars.

And so they sat, afterwards, in the great hall, talking and drinking while the celebration unfurled around them. “She’s smart,” Henri observed. “And full of spirit. That’s how I like them. But you’ll have to watch her.”

“No I won’t.” Griffyn lifted his wine cup towards Henri’s, in toast. “But you’ll surely have to watch Lady Eleanor.”

Henri roared in laughter and smashed their cups together. “Indeed I shall. We’ve chosen women with strength of mind.”

Griffyn grimaced good-naturedly. “That’s one thing to call it.”

He set down his cup and looked around the hall. People were everywhere, standing in small groups, talking and laughing. A minstrel sat beside the dais, strumming and singing softly to a small group. Later, he would sing to all, tales of fierce monsters and brave knights and newly wedded, warring Houses whose union would bring peace to the land.

Tags: Kris Kennedy Historical
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