Madrigal-Chapter 9
Disclaimer: Oh, I’d love to have a witty disclaimer, but it’s been a really busy day and I think my brain’s broke. Trust me, I really don’t own them and I’m making no money from this fic.
In honor of the lovely Jen Bachand’s Renaissance wedding.
I have a wonderful friend and beta in the amazing Kristen Elizabeth.
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Upon returning to the tower the next morning, , Gregory looked much relieved to see the mage seated at the window bench, the shutter half opened. “My lord,” he breathed, relieved.
“Gregory,” he replied solemnly in a scratchy voice. “Thank you for your care.”
Flushing slightly with pleasure from his master’s words, the young man gave a hasty bow. “I did little, m’lord. Twas the lady that did most; for my part, I was happy to help.” He looked at the pale man, “She said you would be almost yourself, if a little weak this morning. To be honest, as bad off as you were, I doubted her word.”
Grissom smiled faintly. “The lady has learned well. I shall be happy to convey my thanks when she comes today.”
Gregory nodded. “And I know she’ll be glad to see you back to yourself.” He began opening the other shuttered windows, but only half way in deference to his master’s possibly still sensitive head. “Had she been born to a different life, she would have made an excellent healer.”
“Aye,” Grissom agreed, having forgotten for a few moments the life Lady Sara had been born to. Had fate been kinder and her family lands been less well positioned, he could have asked the King for her hand. But it was not to be.
Still, he would treasure the time he had left with her, spend as many hours in her company as he could, storing the moments in his heart to remember and treasure in the lonely years to come.
The mage stayed in his rooms the whole of the day. Though the throbbing in his head was gone, his entire body ached in the aftermath of the painful spell.
He was weary from the bout with the pain and the lingering soporific effects of the healing herbs in his system. With an eager heart, he awaited the appearance of the Lady Sara, but as the day wore on into dusk and he slowly rounded the room lighting lamps and candles, she did not materialize.
When he found his bed that night, he still thought a faint trace of her scent lingered in the air. He remembered not the pain of the day and night before, but the feel of her fingers sliding through his hair, her hand against his brow, the arm she wrapped around him to help him drink. He was smiling as sleep found him.
The rising sun woke him and he took inventory of himself. He felt well; there was no lingering ache in his limbs, no clinging lethargy in his brain. Much relieved, he rose and washed.
Prepared for the day and feeling in good health, he set out for his customary morning stroll to the stables. He knew his two equine friends would have missed him the last two days, as well as the freshly picked apples to which they had become accustomed..
The day was fine; the sky was a bright blue with only an occasional soft cloud. The sun’s light seemed slightly more golden than it had just a few days before and there was the first hint of autumn in the air. He breathed deeply, taking in the earthy smells of the castle grounds as he made his way to the stables.
The horses were undoubtedly glad to see him. Cigva looked at him with brown eyes wide and soft, then gently butted her head against him in greeting and Arawan nickered quietly at his master, both animals seeming to understand he had been unwell. He took comfort from their gentle actions and spoke to them tenderly, feeling his affection for the creatures warm his chest.
He spent a little longer than his usual with his horses, giving them the apples he had brought with him and when those were gone, many pats and much praise. Though he knew the apples were most appreciated, he knew the petting did not go entirely amiss either.
Eventually, he left the stables and began to make his way back to the castle, hurrying a little at the eager thought that the Lady Sara might already be in his rooms. But when he rounded the corner leading from the stables to the gardens, he saw her familiar figure making her way down the path, past the herb plot, the vegetable patches and the flower garden. As he watched she moved beyond the hedge and he knew she must be headed to the small back gate that led down to the lake.
Desiring a moment alone in her company, he decided to follow along. Eager as he was, he was careful not to move quickly lest he draw attention to himself and some other attempt to join them. No one seemed to pay him any mind as he moved along the path, past the gardens and through the hedge. As he moved through the gate and started down the trail towards the rolling patches of green and clumps of trees along the lake shore he looked for the Lady Sara, but caught no sight of her. His eyes followed the course around the water but saw no trace of her. He frowned and walked closer to the water.
A slight movement beneath one of the larger willows at the water’s edge caught his eye and he paused to study it. The small movement resolved itself into Lady Sara’s form within the canopy of the tree, gently running her hands across the drooping curtain of limbs and leaves. The greenery seemed almost a charmed veil separating the lady from the rest of the world, enhancing her beauty and protecting her person; the sight enchanted him.
“My lady.” He did not think she had seen him approach and was sure to keep his voice gentle so as not to startle her.
She did not answer. Frowning, he pushed back the willow’s curtain and stepped within its embrace.
Lady Sara stood near the trunk of the tree, her back stick straight and her face blank.
“My lady?”
“M’lord.” Her voice was flat and her curtsy was stiff.
His brow furrowed. “Are you well?”
“I am, m’lord.” Her voice remained emotionless. “And you?”
He smiled despite her overly formal tone, “Yes, my lady, I am well, thanks to your care.” She nodded and he continued. “I have been having those spells since I was a lad. Thanks to your attentions and treatment this lasted the shortest time with the least ill effects. I owe you a deep debt. I vaguely remember your conversation with Gregory. I had never thought to mix valerian with feverfew. Most resourceful and clever of you.”
Her lips appeared stiff, her voice a monotone. “I was happy to be of help, m’lord. As any one with any knowledge of herbs would have done for any who suffered.”
He frowned again. “You are sure you are well, lady?”
“I am well.” But her eyes remained averted.
He searched her face for some clue to her distance. “I had hoped to thank you for your care yesterday, but you did not come to the tower.”
“I was called to audience with the King yestermorn.” She finally met his eyes with her own; a fierce light of pain and anger burned there. “I am to be married in a week’s time.”
He felt the anguished clench of his heart as the weight he had held at bay for so many months finally settled inexorably on his chest. “My lady…”
“The king rushed to assure me that all would be well as he had been well counseled in his choice for my husband by my own revered teacher, the lord mage.” Her voice was bitterly cold, less comforting than a winter wind.
He took a step towards her. “My lady, I am most heartily sorry to have contributed to your unhappiness.”
She held up a staying hand, indicating he should approach no further. “At my brother’s death, I knew I would have to be married. I knew the king would not allow me to live quietly.” She took in a shuddering breath. “I was just not expecting it to be so soon, nor for someone I held in such high regard to have betrayed my wishes so thoroughly.”
He felt the cut of her words so deeply, he was surprised he did not bleed. “Lady…I had no choice in the matter. I was forced…”
“Forced? No choice? No choice? Would you hear of not having choices, m’lord? My mother was torn from her own mother and given to a man when she was but fifteen. She birthed my brother at the age of sixteen.” Her words were acid filled and flaming. “My father was a man of cruelty. He never had any tenderness for his wife or his children. He saw us only as property. He treated his servants better than he treated his wife. He beat her every day of my memory; he forced himself on her, he broke her bones. And she had no choice. No choice until the day she killed him with the huntsman’s knife.”
Her breath was coming in heaving gasps and his eyes were wide with the shock of her words.
His heart broke a thousand times over, at the pain of her words and the vileness of her past. And he wondered how someone that came from something so horrible and painful could be so strong and so beautiful.
Cautiously, he approached her. “My lady Sara.” He reached for both of her hands and held them between his own. “You have seen too many horrors for one so young.” He stepped closer so their bodies were only held apart by the width of their joined hands. “I now understand your brother’s promise to you.” His eyes touched her flushed face, the tears sliding unheeded down her cheeks and the rise and fall of her chest that accompanied her still panting breaths.
“Shhh,” he soothed and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Shhh.” He moved and rested his cheek against her hair, his hands releasing hers in favor of sliding his arms around her much as he had the night she discovered her brother’s death.
After a few moments she quieted and her breathing evened out. He felt her body lose its stiffness and soften against him. When he felt she was calm enough to listen, he spoke. “I am sorry for your pain, Sara. I would not see you hurt for all the wealth in this world or the promise of the next.” His arms tightened around her and he fought to find words of comfort. “Not all men are cruel.” He felt her shudder against him.
Though the thought hurt him, he strengthened his resolve to offer her hope within her sorrow. “You may yet find happiness with a husband, a home and children of your own. Providence may offer you what your own planning did not; you may yet find love within your marriage.”
Slowly she drew her head from where she had nestled against his neck. Even red rimmed from her tears her eyes still shone with the light and beauty that made her heart so exquisite. “Do you truly believe that?”
He looked into her eyes and wanted to stay within her gaze forever. He told himself because he wanted her to be happy it would be a good and right thing if she should find love with her husband. But his voice choked just a bit as he answered, “Aye.”
The look on her face was a marriage of tenderness and pain, heartbreak in a glance. Her hands came up and cupped his face; her thumbs slowly stroked across his cheeks, her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips and back again. “Then you are a fool.” And she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him.
He was shocked for a moment, but just a moment. Then the feel of her lips, warm and moist against his own seemed to shoot a fever all the way through him, consuming him in a wave of brilliant fire from the top of his head, down to his toes. He pulled her closer and returned her kiss, lips pressing into hers, soft, then hard, pressing over and over, then his tongue stroking against the seam of her lips and she opened to him, inviting him in to her warmth, tongue stroking against tongue, tasting the inside of her top lip, nipping at her lower lip. There was no thought, just the feel of her lips, her mouth, her tongue, her fingers stroking against his cheeks, the desire pooling hot and low in his belly.
Their lips clung together, connected it seemed, until she pulled back firmly. Stating again, “You are a fool,” she turned and left the shelter of the willow leaving the mage throbbing with desire and aching with love for her.
Madrigal-Chapter 1
Madrigal-Chapter 2
Madrigal-Chapter 3
Madrigal-Chapter 4
Madrigal-Chapter 5
Madrigal-Chapter 6
Madrigal-Chapter 7
Madrigal-Chapter 8
Madrigal-Chapter 9
Madrigal-Chapter 10
Madrigal-Chapter 11
Madrigal-Chapter 12
Madrigal-Chapter 13
Madrigal-Chapter 14