“I haven’t had a chance to speak with you about all of this.” William looked away from her again. “I would have you know—”
“Non.” Tanon sprang from her bed and knelt at his feet. “Whatever you wish to tell me, you already say with your eyes. I know how difficult some of your decisions have been. For I’ve seen you on your knees before God in the church. You’re wise, and merciful, forgiving even Hereward for his years of rebellion. You’ve been a friend to my parents and a loving guardian to me. I won’t have you plead forgiveness again. There’s no need.” She took his large hand and brought it to her cheek. “All will be well with me,” she promised, vowing to ease his concern.
William’s battle scarred fingers cupped her face, and when she looked up at him, he smiled so tenderly she nearly wept.
“I knew your mother would produce astonishing children. I was not wrong.”
“You rarely are.”
“Ask anything of me, Tanon Risande, and if it is in my power to grant it to you, I shall.”
A mischievous grin spread over her face. “Tell me what feminine wiles are.”
The king stared at her for a moment wondering if he had heard her right. Then he blinked and shifted his gaze to Gianelle, hoping she would answer. When she didn’t, he frowned and cleared his throat. “They are…they are…”
“Oui?”
He glanced down into Tanon’s guileless expression and cleared his throat again. “They are the mystique of a woman.Oui,that is what they are.”
“The mystique?” asked Gianelle thoroughly confused. “Explain this please.”
William tucked his finger into his collar and gave it a yank. “A woman has many weapons to use on a man.”
“Weapons?”
“Oui,Tanon. Weapons,” the king said, biting down on his jaw and looking toward the door, as if longing for Brynna to enter and take over this confounded conversation. “The sway of her…er…well, her hips for one. She also possesses that ‘come hither look.’ ’Tis a certain thing she does with the lashes of her eyes.”
“What certain thing?” Tanon pressed, eager now that she was getting to the bottom of it.
William looked directly at her and batted his lashes. Tanon burst into laughter.
“So feminine wiles are what a woman uses to soften a man.” Gianelle wanted to smile for discovering what the king was trying to say. But she found the truth of it very unappealing.
“To bend him to her will.” Tanon grinned when William nodded.
“It’s trickery.” Gianelle complained. “A husband deserves honest passion.” She shook her head and gestured toward William with her chin. “You see now what I meant about his brains,oui?”
“What about my brains?” The king cast Gianelle a brooding look.
“Aunt Gia says you may have some under your gruff exterior,” Tanon supplied.
“Don’t be such a baby.” Gianelle laughed at the king’s wounded expression, then she batted her eyelashes at him. “You know I adore you,mon seigneur.”
*
Tanon was marriedso quickly she didn’t have time to worry about wiles, or passions, or anything at all. She guessed one reason the priest rushed through the ceremony might have been due to Roger’s mumbling angrily about his lost dowry. Or it could have been the way Madoc was glaring at the grumbling earl, daring him to continue. Of course, the speedy benediction could have been the result of the king’s warning that he was about to trounce them both. Tanon’s mother wept. One of Gareth’s men hummed. And the tapping of her father’s boot echoed throughout the church like a battle drum, giving fair warning to all that he was contemplating tearing his daughter from her groom’s hands and killing anyone who tried to stop him.
Remarkably, Gareth remained unfazed throughout the entire ceremony. He even turned to Tanon once and winked at her. His calm reassurance soothed her nerves some, but the effect only lasted until the priest ended the benediction and the time came for Gareth to kiss her.
He smiled, and cupping his hand to her cheek, bent his head toward hers. His thumb caressed her lower lip while his warm breath washed over her. Tanon’s body went stiff. But then, as his supple mouth molded to hers, teasing her, not with a long, possessive kiss, but with short, open-mouthed, excruciatingly tender kisses, her bones turned to tree sap. She clung to his shoulders for support, and because she never wanted him to stop.
He withdrew slowly, only inches from the dreamy languor that glazed her eyes and licked the taste of her from his lips.
“Thank the ancestors, that’s finally done.” Alwyn’s gravelly voice rang through the church. “Let’s get to drinking!”
Still looking at her, Gareth laughed and then held up her hand and turned toward the crowd. Some cheered, while others grumbled. Gareth’s men all dropped to one knee to pay homage to their new princess.
Chapter Nine