She went without quarrel, much to Gareth’s amazement. Beneath his thick lashes, a glint of firelight sparked his eyes when he returned them to Madoc. “Come, let’s talk.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Gareth hadn’t smiledin two days. Tanon noted that his mood had gone sour since speaking with Madoc at the Celebration. When she questioned him, he insisted that all was well. But he shouted at Alwyn and Tomas when they brought him the wrong size wood for the new chairs he was building. He barely noticed the lovely amber window coverings she’d hung, or the matching tablecloth she had sewn. He called William a filthy pig—the hog—not the king, but it offended Tanon just the same. He hammered and brooded and bellowed from dawn to dusk. And when night fell on the glen, he made rough, passionate love to Tanon on their new feather-stuffed mattress, and then held her until the morning.
On the morn of the third day, she woke to an empty bed. The sound of wood being chopped outside drew her to the front door. She tossed her nightdress over her head and stepped outside.
The air was cool with the coming of autumn, but her husband’s bare chest glistened with sweat as he brought down his ax on a vertical slab of wood, cleaving it in half. He didn’t look up at first, and Tanon let her hungry gaze revel over his flat belly and the long, lithe muscles that pulsed in his arms as he lifted another piece of wood to the chopping block. His long, sun-burnished mane rippled as he brought his ax down once again.
When had she begun to love him so fiercely? Dear God, it frightened her. She hadn’t wanted to come to Wales, but now she didn’t know what she would do without him. Something was terribly wrong. She could feel it in the marrow of her bones. Where was Cian? He hadn’t yet returned from his errand. What had happened between Gareth and Madoc to cause her husband to behave so unbearably these last few days? Did it have something to do with her? The Normans? Tanon knew William would never go back on his word and bring battle to Wales.
“Gareth?”
He brought down his ax, hard, splintering the wood. He glanced up at her. His rugged face was lined with worry. His full mouth was drawn tight across his teeth. Tanon nearly recoiled at the anguish plaguing his gaze.
“What troubles you so? You leave to meet your king today, and your solemn mood frightens me. Has something happened involving my people?”
“Not the Normans.” He averted his gaze from her questioning one. “It’s my own people who threaten the peace here. My uncle has heard rumor that Prince Dafydd is planning an attack in Llandeilo.”
Tanon drew in a sharp breath. The fear of losing him burned in her eyes. “Are you going to fight?”
He lowered his ax to his side. “If I do, I’ll win. Don’t fret.”
She couldn’t stay away from him another instant, but when she moved to go to him, he held up his palm to stop her.
“I fear,” he said looking into her stricken gaze with eyes that ached with longing to hold her. “If I touch you, I won’t be able to go.”
“If you don’t touch me, I won’t let you leave.”
Gareth exhaled a deep breath and angled his head as if to see her from a different position. Mayhap one that didn’t make his heart crash so in his chest. “Tanon, you’ve brought peace and innocence to my life where there was always bloodshed and violence. And in return I’ve laid you bare at the altar, like a sacrifice to the wolves.”
She smiled tenderly and took another step toward him, closer to his strong, safe arms.
“What do you mean you have sacrificed me?” she asked him quietly, her smile deepening. “I dare say you’ve made my dreams real.”
His scant smile was riddled with anguish. “You’ve dreamed of living in a hut, then? Tanon, you should be living in a fortress, safe and secure.”
“Your arms are my fortress,” she told him. “Everything I desire is right here with you.”
He dropped the ax and closed the distance between them in two strides. He took her in his arms, locking her in an embrace of steel, and a need so fierce it nearly pulled the breath from her lungs. Tunneling his fingers through the velvet curls at her temples, he drew her head back to meet her gaze. “I want to bury myself inside you.” His voice was a hoarse whisper against her mouth. “And make us forget—”
His tight groan sent a scalding tongue of flame down Tanon’s back and she pressed her swelling breasts to his bare chest.
“Forget everything but the feel of our bodies lost in each other.” Bending his knees, he slipped his hands under her and carried her inside the cottage.
They fell to the bed, pulling at each other’s laces, urgent to share a few moments of sweet intimacy, as if they might never enjoy them again. Gareth spread her beneath him, urgently, but then slowing his movements, he moved himself until she opened to him fully. She loved the feel of him inside her, atop her. But looking into his eyes made her want to weep. She wouldn’t. She trusted him to come back to her. Taking hold of his face in her hands, she gazed at him. “I love you, Gareth.”
He closed his eyes as if her words pained him. “Forgive me, Tanon,” he whispered, holding her as if she were even more vital to him than the people he had sworn to protect.
*
Two hours later,Gareth’s deadlyTeuluwere saddled and ready to leave.
Standing with Rebecca and Adara outside the village tavern, Tanon watched her husband share a few words with Ioan before he turned to Hereward next. He wore a tunic of deep scarlet, as did the rest of his men, announcing them warriors of the king’s elite.
Tomas kissed his wife and babe and then backed away toward his horse. “Be vigilant. Keep safe until I return,” he charged his wife before he leaped into his saddle, joining the other men.
A harsh realization settled over Tanon, chilling her to her marrow. In the midst of so many enemies, this village was vulnerable without its warriors. Any moment could find them facing deadly enemies from any number of regions. She hugged her arms around herself. The people of this village were not defenseless, thanks to Gareth. She said a silent prayer to God that everyone here knew how to fight.