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“You are right; he cannot dictate our lives, and besides, the village would love a celebration. But still, it will take a couple of weeks or more so that we may do it properly and the flowers will be in bloom, and there will be time to stitch wedding dresses, and—”
He nuzzled her neck. “Enough, take what time is necessary, and you and Brigid enjoy making plans for the weddings. I will go speak with your father about wedding his daughter. Now sleep and know that I love you.”
“And I love you,” she said, only to feel his arm grow heavy on her waist and his breath steady in her ear. He was sound asleep.
She smiled and closed her eyes, content in his arms and content that though there were difficulties to face, they would face them together.
A few minutes later she opened her eyes, wide awake, her thoughts much too chaotic for sleep to claim her. Try as she might, she could not stop thinking of the circumstances that had brought them together.
She turned, dislodging Magnus from her, and he turned onto his back to snore lightly. She smiled at the light, easy rhythm, happy to hear it and know he was there safe beside her.
When she realized that sleep would not come quickly, she slipped from beneath the blanket and reached for his shirt on the floor, dropping it over her head as she walked to the hearth. A fire burned brightly, keeping the chill from the room.
She was grateful for the fire’s warmth, and she sat on the small bench before the hearth, pulling the large shirt down over her bent knees so that only her toes were visible. She hugged her legs and gave her thoughts free rein.
What troubled her the most was how much Magnus and his mother had suffered and how difficult it must have been for his mother, married to a man that cared naught for her or her son.
His mother had spent much of her time imprisoned in a small room, alone with her thoughts and fears and concerns for her son. She had written to keep her sanity and she had planned, planned her escape. She had written in Latin, a language not all could speak or understand.
Had she done so for a reason?
Reena stood suddenly and looked to where Magnus slept soundly, still snoring lightly. She did not waste a moment; she rushed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She grabbed a torch from one of the many metal wall sconces and hurried up the spiral stairway to the tower room.
Her feet and legs grew chilled, and when she entered the room, the total darkness made her pause momentarily in fear. She shook it off, determined to read the message Magnus’s mother had left on the wall. She hurried into the darkness.
The torchlight chased the darkness to the corners, where it lurked in flickering shadows, waiting for her to leave. She entered the secret room without fear of being locked in, for the door had been removed.
Once at the wall she bent down and ran her fingers over the words etched into the stone. It had to have been difficult and painstakingly slow to write in the stone, but then all Magnus’s mother had had was time.
She ran her fingers over the writing, stopping here and there to make certain she understood what the woman had written. She shook her head and read again a passage near the bottom of the wall.
Could she be wrong in her translation?
She read it again and wept.
Chapter 28
Reena woke alone the next morning. She had felt Magnus stir earlier, his warm fingers gliding over her naked flesh ever so lightly, stirring her senses. He had pulled the blanket down to taste her hard nipple, and while her body had tingled with pleasure, she had just been too tired to respond with interest. She had not fallen asleep until just before dawn, and her body and mind had been exhausted and ready for slumber.
Magnus had whispered, “I love you” in her ear and kissed her cheek before leaving the bed, and she had fallen into a deep slumber, only waking now because of the heavy rain pounding the windows.
The information she had discovered late last night continued to disturb her. What should she do? Did Magnus know what his mother had written on the stone wall? And if he did, should she wait for him to tell her? And what if he did not know? Should she be the one to tell him? The information would prove painful to him, and she did not want to see him suffer any more than he already had. She would bide her time and see if he confided in her what she already knew. If not? She did not wish to think on it, for it would grieve her to deliver such startling news to him.
She hurried to dress, choosing a shift and tunic in shades of green and plaiting her long, dark hair so that it would stay out of her face—not that several silky strands did not fall lose and frame her visage.
Her cheeks held a faint blush, and her blue eyes shone bright as she entered the great hall. Magnus sat in discussion with Thomas at a table near the hearth, Horace at his feet, gnawing on a sizeable bone.
Her heart filled with joy at the sight of him, and she smiled as she hurried to him. He was dressed all in black but the darkness did not disturb her, for she knew that beneath lay a person filled with light and love.
He turned and saw her, and his joyful smile matched hers as he stood, stepped over Horace, and opened his arms to her.
She raced into his embrace, and he lifted her up off the floor and hugged her tightly to him.
“I missed having you beside me at the morning meal,” he whispered in her ear before nibbling the lobe.
Her arms circled his neck and she laughed softly, rubbing her cheek to his. “I was lazy this morning.”
“You had difficulty sleeping?”
