comfort, and nothing left that death was her only escape. He shouldn’t
have felt responsible, but he did.
She wept like a
child as he held her. Though Val was downstairs and in need of help, Tevin felt
that he had to spare these few moments for Lady Penden. He’d spared her little
else.
“I am so sorry,”
Tevin whispered into her hair, not knowing what else to say. “I do not know
much, my lady, but I do know death. I have seen much of it. All I can tell you
is that this too shall pass, and these dark days will seem less so. You have
your son and a host of knights that serve only you. I know that we are a weak substitution
for your husband, but we nonetheless support you. The sun will shine again, my
lady. You must have faith.”
She couldn’t
answer. Everything from the past few days was coming out in torrents of grief.
Tevin let her cry, hoping he was at least bringing some comfort by simply being
there. He tried to ignore the growing sensation of the pleasant feel of her in
his arms. Since that moment when he’d seen her at the chapel yesterday, he’d
done nothing but think on her. He’d known other women. He’d even married one.
But he couldn’t ever remember a woman that stuck with him the way Lady Penden
did. She had a nameless charm that went beyond normal attraction. He was
starting to feel like a fiend.
He ended up
sitting on his buttocks with the lady clutched against him until the tears
would no longer come. It really hadn’t been that long, but to him, it had
seemed like an eternity of warmth and compassion. Even when she was silent and
quivering, he continued to hold her. It began to occur to him that he wanted
nothing more at this moment than to hold her. But that was wrong, and his
conscience wreaked havoc within his mind. Had his motives been pure, he would
not have been so torn; the fact that he felt guilty for holding her told him
that his motives went beyond normal comfort. He was finding some distorted
gratification in it. He liked it.
“My lady,” his
lips were against the side of her head. “I realize that this is more than
likely not the most opportune time to speak on this subject, but we have many
wounded in the hall that require attention. Though we can hardly expect our
needs to supersede your own, I would consider it a personal favor if you could
find the strength to tend the men. They are in great need of you.”
Her arms were
still around his neck, her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder.
When she lifted her head to look at him, Tevin felt a jolt run through him as
their eyes met.
“How selfish of
me.” Unhappily for him, she slowly unwound her arms from his neck. As he
watched her, she struggled for composure. “Your men are injured and all I can
do is think of myself. Forgive me.”
“There is
nothing to forgive.”
She smiled
weakly. “I doubt that is the case, but you are kind to say so.” She wiped at
her face, erasing the last of the tears. “I am not usually the dramatic type,
but it seems that all you have witnessed since coming to Rochester are
dramatics and hysterics.”
It was an effort
for him to keep his hands to himself; she was so deeply pathetic and his
natural compassion begged to wipe away a tear, or squeeze her hand to ensure
some measure of comfort. But he would not. He’d done more than he should have
already.
“As I told you
yesterday, there is no need for apologies,” he said quietly. “You and your
family have suffered a great loss. Your grief is natural.”
Her lavender
eyes grew steady. As he watched, she seemed to draw on the last reserves of
strength she must have held. But it was a fragile composure. “Grief, indeed.
But madness… surely there is no excuse.”
She suddenly
stood up, prompting him to also rise. The contrasts in their sizes pronounced;
Tevin was easily twice as wide as the diminutive lady and a head and a half
taller. It seemed that she had something more to say to him but could not
have felt responsible, but he did.
She wept like a
child as he held her. Though Val was downstairs and in need of help, Tevin felt
that he had to spare these few moments for Lady Penden. He’d spared her little
else.
“I am so sorry,”
Tevin whispered into her hair, not knowing what else to say. “I do not know
much, my lady, but I do know death. I have seen much of it. All I can tell you
is that this too shall pass, and these dark days will seem less so. You have
your son and a host of knights that serve only you. I know that we are a weak substitution
for your husband, but we nonetheless support you. The sun will shine again, my
lady. You must have faith.”
She couldn’t
answer. Everything from the past few days was coming out in torrents of grief.
Tevin let her cry, hoping he was at least bringing some comfort by simply being
there. He tried to ignore the growing sensation of the pleasant feel of her in
his arms. Since that moment when he’d seen her at the chapel yesterday, he’d
done nothing but think on her. He’d known other women. He’d even married one.
But he couldn’t ever remember a woman that stuck with him the way Lady Penden
did. She had a nameless charm that went beyond normal attraction. He was
starting to feel like a fiend.
He ended up
sitting on his buttocks with the lady clutched against him until the tears
would no longer come. It really hadn’t been that long, but to him, it had
seemed like an eternity of warmth and compassion. Even when she was silent and
quivering, he continued to hold her. It began to occur to him that he wanted
nothing more at this moment than to hold her. But that was wrong, and his
conscience wreaked havoc within his mind. Had his motives been pure, he would
not have been so torn; the fact that he felt guilty for holding her told him
that his motives went beyond normal comfort. He was finding some distorted
gratification in it. He liked it.
“My lady,” his
lips were against the side of her head. “I realize that this is more than
likely not the most opportune time to speak on this subject, but we have many
wounded in the hall that require attention. Though we can hardly expect our
needs to supersede your own, I would consider it a personal favor if you could
find the strength to tend the men. They are in great need of you.”
Her arms were
still around his neck, her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder.
When she lifted her head to look at him, Tevin felt a jolt run through him as
their eyes met.
“How selfish of
me.” Unhappily for him, she slowly unwound her arms from his neck. As he
watched her, she struggled for composure. “Your men are injured and all I can
do is think of myself. Forgive me.”
“There is
nothing to forgive.”
She smiled
weakly. “I doubt that is the case, but you are kind to say so.” She wiped at
her face, erasing the last of the tears. “I am not usually the dramatic type,
but it seems that all you have witnessed since coming to Rochester are
dramatics and hysterics.”
It was an effort
for him to keep his hands to himself; she was so deeply pathetic and his
natural compassion begged to wipe away a tear, or squeeze her hand to ensure
some measure of comfort. But he would not. He’d done more than he should have
already.
“As I told you
yesterday, there is no need for apologies,” he said quietly. “You and your
family have suffered a great loss. Your grief is natural.”
Her lavender
eyes grew steady. As he watched, she seemed to draw on the last reserves of
strength she must have held. But it was a fragile composure. “Grief, indeed.
But madness… surely there is no excuse.”
She suddenly
stood up, prompting him to also rise. The contrasts in their sizes pronounced;
Tevin was easily twice as wide as the diminutive lady and a head and a half
taller. It seemed that she had something more to say to him but could not
Similar Books
