{"id":1154,"date":"2019-02-13T13:01:39","date_gmt":"2019-02-13T18:01:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1154"},"modified":"2020-06-01T09:07:09","modified_gmt":"2020-06-01T13:07:09","slug":"the-sound-of-silver","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/the-sound-of-silver\/","title":{"rendered":"The Sound of Silver"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>
\n

The Sound of Silver<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by Rachelle Rea<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The stalwart saint, fighting for faith\u2026and the redeemed rebel, fighting for honor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After Dirk rescues Gwyneth from the Iconoclastic Fury, she discovers that faith is sometimes fragile\u2013and hope is not as easy as it may seem. Now truly orphaned yet not alone, Gwyneth continues her quest to learn more about the love of God preached by Protestants she once distrusted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dirk\u2019s quest is to prevent his sullied name from staining hers. Will his choice to protect her prove the undoing of her first faltering steps toward a Father God? Once separated, will Dirk and Gwyneth\u2019s searching hearts ever sing the same song?<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

Dirk<\/h1>\n\n\n\n

Barrington Manor, Northampton,\nEngland<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

September 1566<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nmystery of her survival soared within and around me until I was aware of naught\nbut her. Her and that smile as she asked me about her rosary and spoke about\nmarrying the man that she loved. The candlelight flickered on the wheat-colored\nstrands of her hair. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stopped at the foot of the\nstairs that would carry us out of the dark dungeon of her uncle\u2019s castle and up\ninto the keep and tightened my hold on her. Distant voices reached my ears, but\nhis did not\u2014her uncle, the man whose madness had driven him to holding Gwyn\ncaptive. I listened only long enough to ascertain Cade and Gerald reassured Ian,\nMargried, and Agnes that Gwyn lived. When Gwyn\u2019s smile grew, making her eyes\nglitter a brighter green, I decided not to join the others just yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What had she asked again?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Would\nyou be disappointed in me if I did not wear my rosary anymore?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

That she had asked me that spoke\nof just how far she had come. That rosary meant much to her, judging from the\nway she had clung to it ever since I had taken her from the Dutch convent. That\nshe would be willing to set it aside after wearing it daily\u2026was she now willing\nto become Protestant?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened my mouth and said the\nfirst words my mind found, hardly hearing myself. \u201cI would not be disappointed\nin the least. But I would be upset with you if you did not wear it on your\nwedding day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She tilted her head. <\/em>\u201cAnd why would that be?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared down into her eyes. What\nhad I just said? I shook my head to clear my thoughts. \u201cI changed my mind. I\ncare not what you wear. As long as you marry me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She pressed a hand to her throat.\nMy mouth dried. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you asking me to be your\nwife?\u201d Her steady gaze chased away the last cloud of fear that lingered from my\nconfrontation with her uncle, Oliver. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had been so afraid I would\nfind her dead. And then, when I had found her locked in that dungeon, that she\nwould die in my arms. \u201cAye, milady, and that was not an answer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow is this for an answer?\u201d She\ncame closer and feathered gentle lips to the scar on my face, the scar that\nserved to remind me of all I had once been, all I could become again if not for\nthe blood of Christ.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once more, my arms tightened\naround her back and beneath her knees. I would never allow myself to become\nthat man again. To do so would endanger Gwyn. I refused to entertain even the\nnotion of that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I kissed her. I laid my mouth\nover hers and infused every ounce of tenderness she inspired in me into that\nkiss, trying to tell her I accepted her answer to my question, trying to tell\nher this kiss was to be different from her perception of our first. For this\ntime, I in no way wished to keep her quiet. I wished only to quiet both our\nsouls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I pulled back, her eyes\nremained closed. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I tucked my cheek to\nher temple. She had been through so much. It was time to see to her safety and\nsecurity above all else. \u201cGwyn?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAye?\u201d She sounded drowsy. I\nclenched my jaw, suddenly aware of how solitary was the hall in which we stood,\nof how close I had gathered her to me, and how very soft her voice had become.\nDare I to hope that the lioness had been tamed?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hoped not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A weight in my cloak pocket\nreminded me. \u201cI trust you will never do that again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her eyes popped open, and a\nflicker crossed her face. \u201cDo what?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I set her down close to the wall\nand stayed near enough she could lean on me should the need arise. After all, I\nhad just saved her life. The woman was allowed to be wobbly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I whisked her glasses from my\npocket and held them out to her close enough for her to see. \u201cDo not ever leave\nyour glasses behind.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her fingers took them from my\npalm, leaving soft circlets of heat on the skin she had touched. The eyes that stared\nup at me from behind thin lenses seemed mournful. I studied the paleness of her\nface before scooping her into my arms again. \u201cWhat did you think I meant? Just\nnow?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Did her chin tremble? \u201cI thought\nyou wanted me to never kiss you again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My eyes closed. \u201cGwyn.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When her head rested on my\nshoulder once more, the fear that had vanished at her laughter mere moments ago\nresurfaced. She should have broken into a Spanish tirade, not taken such a\nludicrous command from me seriously. \u201cWhy would you ever think that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know not.\u201d Tears had found\nlodging in her whisper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I began to move toward the\nothers. Our few moments alone in the cold stairway, that one kiss, would have\nto be enough for now. Gwyn may have just agreed to become my bride, but she had\nalso just been rescued from a dungeon, from darkness, from a discarded key that\nhad left her trapped. I needed to tuck my bride-to-be into a warm bed as fast\nas I could find one. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before I could allow that\nthought to wander any further, Cade and Ian came into sight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGwyneth!\u201d Margried, the\npostulant who had come from the burning convent with us a fortnight ago, rushed\nover to us first. Her eyes brimmed. \u201cYou are well.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I shot a look at Cade, but he\nwas already joining us. Though I set Gwyn down, I stayed close. She and\nMargried embraced for a long minute that contained more than a few soft\nwhispers and, if my ears did not deceive me, at least one muffled shriek that\nseemed to originate from Margried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I watched from two paces away,\non guard lest Gwyn\u2019s strength fail her. Her eyes testified to her weariness\nwith the circles beneath them, even as she closed them in joy at being reunited\nwith her friend. It had not been the proper time to ask for her hand. She was\nfragile now. But the words had tumbled out, and I would not take them back\u2014as\nif I would ever wish to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the women released each\nother, Cade wrapped an arm around Margried, inspiring a shy smile on the\nwoman\u2019s face. Agnes came forward with halting steps. Gwyn smiled and hugged the\nwoman. Agnes\u2019s eyes closed for a brief second before she opened them again and\nstepped away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I picked up Gwyn again. I was\ntaking no chances of her plunging to the cold stone floor on which we stood. I\nopened my mouth to stifle her imminent protest, but she merely rested her head\non my shoulder. That was odd.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gerald, the gatekeeper to whom I\nowed my life, cleared his throat and motioned with his head. I glanced toward\nthe corner and saw the dark forms in the shadows\u2014Gwyn\u2019s uncle, Oliver\nBarrington, and his henchman, Arthur. Both dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Agnes sighed loudly from the\ncenter of the room. Ian looked my way and tossed his gaze to the ceiling before\nsending a pointed glance at the disgruntled older nun. I had neither the energy\nnor the leisure to laugh. I looked down at Gwyn. \u201cBest we find you a place to\nrest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI would like that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The fear multiplied when again\nshe offered no protest. Bed. Now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut wait.\u201d Something in her\nvoice made me look at her. She stared up at me with eyes too trusting. \u201cWhere\nis my uncle?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned my back on the others\nto afford us privacy. I had thought that she had understood, while she still\nstood barred within her dungeon cell, that he was dead, that he had made his\nown death a condition of my saving her. A sigh punctuated my low whisper of her\nname. \u201cGwyn.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She must have read the truth in\nmy eyes, for she swallowed. Her chin wobbled. A quick nod and that glazed look\nI hated took over her gaze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGwyn, I am sorry. So sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her deep breath caused her whole\nbody to shudder. I laid my forehead against hers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGwyn\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sighed. \u201cHere.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her head turned in Margried\u2019s\ndirection. She looked at Agnes next. I knew the moment she found the shadowed\ncorner where they lay, for her entire face turned ashen and tears glistened\nbehind her glasses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The breath left my stomach. \u201cDo\nyou want to\u2014?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNee.<\/em>\u201d She used the Dutch her mother had taught her, the Dutch she\nalways fell into when upset.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leaving the others to follow, I\nsteered my boots toward the stairs. Of a sudden, I could feel the burn in my\ngut from Oliver\u2019s stab. A graze, I knew, hardly more than skin-deep. And hardly\nmore important than taking care of Gwyn now. I would see to it later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Footsteps behind me assured me\nthe others came. At the top of the stairs, I turned in the direction of the\nroom to which the maid had taken Agnes and Margried the night before\u2014and to\nwhich I had in turn taken Gwyn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDirk?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked down at her, trying to\ntell from her features what she needed, but the shadows stole that privilege\nfrom me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI am frightened.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I flicked my gaze to hers,\ntaking in the look on her face, willing my eyes to deny what my ears had heard.\nHer tears had fled, but her pallor confirmed her words. How had she grown even\npaler than before? Or was it merely the shadows?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou are well, Gwyn. Whole. I am\nright here, and I will not allow anything\u201d\u2014I kicked open the door to the room\nthat had been my destination\u2014\u201cto harm you.\u201d I stifled a wince as my side\nprotested.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Agnes clucked from somewhere\nbehind me. \u201cYou could have waited. I would have lifted the latch for you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gwyn shivered. \u201cI know. I trust\nyou. It\u2019s just that\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stepped within, stopped, and\nstared down into her emerald eyes, the need to know what caused her distress\nswamping my insides. Gwyn was a fighter, a lioness, a lord\u2019s daughter as noble\nas the Queen herself could claim to be. Why, then, this trepidation?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her gaze roved the ceiling. She\ndrew in a deep breath and spoke in that same small voice. \u201c\u2019Tis dark in here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI will light a candle.\u201d\nMovement behind me reassured me someone would see to it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2019Tis cold.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I tightened my arms around her. Then\nrealized I had been doing that a lot lately. I loosened my hold. \u201cI will fetch\nyou a blanket.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAye, but\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Passing the bed and, upon it,\nthe crumpled blue gown I had slashed during our swim in the sea, I strode to\nthe window to give us more privacy. Rustling behind me meant blankets were\nbeing prepared. Yet, if need be, I would keep her in my arms forever. I was\ndetermined to erase that panicked look from her eyes. So help me, if Oliver had\ndone anything to dampen or destroy the fire in her spirit, I would\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis place\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat is it?\u201d I gentled my voice\nfor I did not wish her to think\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her gaze flicked to mine. \u201cI am\nbeing silly. I am sorry. I should not think such things.\u201d Her words sped past\nher lips. The bodice of her dress heaved with hurried breaths.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was panicking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I forced my face to conceal my\nreaction. I winced at her thinking she had anything to apologize to me <\/em>for. \u201cTell me. I want to know what\nhas your skin pale and your eyes wide.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her throat worked as she\nswallowed. \u201cIt is just that\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I placed a kiss on the top of\nher brow and tucked her head beneath mine. \u201cTell me, Gwyneth-mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have not spent a night here\nsince the night my parents died.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My eyes closed, and a moment\u2019s\npause magnified my lack of response. What to say?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A woman\u2019s hand touched my\nshoulder. \u201cLord Godfrey?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned. \u201cCall me Dirk, please,\nMargried.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She nodded. \u201cShe is weakened.\nShe needs wine. Bread.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gwyn\u2019s brows collided. \u201cI am\nfine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I frowned down at her. \u201cNay, you\nare not.\u201d Of course. How could I have forgotten? She had just spent hours in a\ndungeon, locked away with, she believed, no way of escape. Even Oliver had\nmentioned only an hour before, when we first came bursting in, that she might\nneed refreshment. All because I had not been there, alert to her, when she\nneeded me, and Arthur had abducted her. The pain of the truth cut deep, but\nthere it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How I had failed to think of it\nbefore, I did not know. But I thought of it now. Of the scene that had surely\ntaken place. Arthur appearing at our camp in the dark of night, snatching her\nfrom sleep. While I slumbered mere feet away. How she must have struggled,\nsought in vain to awaken me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI will fetch some then.\u201d Margried\u2019s\nwords forced me back to the present. She turned away with a smile, but it was a\nsad smile. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I faced the room again and\nwatched Cade follow Margried out the door. What would I have said, if she had\nnot interrupted with her insight? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gwyn shifted in my arms and\nnodded at me. Such a noblewoman, tipping her head in thanks for the service of\nmy arms. I set her down with reluctance banging at my ribcage. What could I say\nto comfort her? This place was synonymous with death for her. As if she did not\nhave enough trouble with sleep already.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I studied our surroundings. The\nlong chamber held one large bedframe, two large windows, and sundry furnishings.\nAgnes turned down the blankets on the bed\u2014her gaze flicking to Gwyn and me. Her\nbrows pinched together, and her mouth formed a thin line as she looked up at\nme.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I raised an eyebrow. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She turned her attention to\nGwyn. \u201cMilady, you must want to\u2026\u201d Her voice trailed off as she glanced at me\nagain. I narrowed my eyes, not catching her meaning. I watched Gwyn walk toward\nthe bed and grasp the bedpost. She peeked back at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Right. Whatever they wished to\ndiscuss, they did not want me there to overhear. I gave them each a curt nod\nand strode from the room. With great restrain, I refrained from touching Gwyn\u2019s\nshoulder as I passed her. Refused to allow myself to brush her fingers with my\nown. Though I longed to touch her, to feel her realness once more, to reassure\nmyself she was alive\u2026 her wide eyes were so mournful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And the horror of the thought\nthat I had allowed this to happen made my blood run cold. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I shut the door behind me,\nclosed my eyes, and forced myself not to open the door again, not to go to her.\nI set out to find Ian and Gerald. They had not followed us into the chamber\nearlier. Had they even followed us up the stairs?\n\nI took one step\ntoward the stairway and stumbled. Wincing, I put a hand to my side. Time to see\nto that gash gained at Oliver\u2019s hand during the struggle that had ended his\nlife but brought Gwyn back to me.\n\n\n\n<\/p>\n\n\n