Her eyes downcast, she nodded.
“Nor I you.”
The change in her was startling. He couldn’t bear to see her look so sad. Pushing aside his own cowardice, he held out a hand to her.
“Come here.”
Ian appeared distressed. Lily pushed aside her own discomfort—and guilt—and crept back to join him on the cloak. He need not know the comfort and pleasure she received simply from sitting near him. She felt his warmth beside her and sighed. With only this, she could be content.
“Dai has returned from Saint Winifred’s,” he said.
Startled, Lily met his gaze.
“He found out a great many things you wanted to know.”
He took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers when she didn’t resist, “I hadn’t intended to tell you tonight, but that was selfishness on my part. I hadn’t gotten over my own anger at what I heard. But how I feel isn’t important. You deserve to hear this. It’s your news more than mine.”
Lily had never expected to hear so soon. Heart beating wildly, she reached up and smoothed his hair back from his forehead.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t have many close relations, just my sister, Cat-tin, and a few cousins. But I have many more distant relatives, however, Llywelyn among them.”
“The prince is your cousin?” She hadn’t realized that.
“Aye, more’s the pity. He’s my least favorite, at the moment,” he added dryly.
“My favorite cousin, however, is a half-Welsh marcher baroness, Lady Gillian Fitz-Clifford de l’Eau Clair. She’s wed to a Norman knight who, fortunately for him, treats her as he should. Gillian’s mother was a Welsh noblewoman, her father a Norman baron. When Gillian was naught but a babe, her mother ran away. Later, we were told she’d died,” he added, his voice rough. Giving her hand a squeeze, he continued.
“I
remember Lowri well. She was very beautiful, and kind to a pesky little boy.” He smiled in remembrance.
“However, as it happens, Lowri didn’t die, not for many more years—years she would have shared with her family, but for the lies of yet another kinsman.”
“Llywelyn?” she asked. Why was he telling her so much about his family? What could it matter to her?
“Aye,” he growled.
“I don’t know for certain why he did it. But I intend to find out. I swear to you I will.” He took both her hands in his and held them tightly, his gaze never leaving hers.
“Lowri had another daughter, Lily.
You. For a moment, Lily could not breathe, her shock was so great. She’d never expected this. But she found her voice—barely—to ask the question burning in her mind.
“I have a sister?”
He nodded.
“And a niece, a brother-by-marriage, and many distant cousins. Including me.”
“Does my father still live?”
“He died two–no, three—years ago. Lung fever took him. He was much older than your mother. A good man, worthy of respect.” And Ian had respected him, she could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. How she wished she could have known her father!
But she mustn’t be greedy. Already she’d gained so much more than she’d ever anticipated.
A possibility surged to the front of her mind, demanding to be explored.
“Was my father’s name Simon?”
Ian looked surprised.
“How did you know?”
A shiver passed through her.
“My mother would ramble on sometimes, calling for people I’d never heard of, wailing as though her heart had been torn away. She called for Simon most often. And Gilly, too. I used to think she was trying to say Lily,” she added.
“Damn Llywelyn,” Ian muttered, cupping her cheek in his hand.
How she used to hope it was “Lily”—a sign that her mother remembered her existence. Lily set aside the old hurt; her mother’s pain had to have been so much deeper.
“I thought ‘twas all in her mind, for the sisters claimed she was quite mad. Most of the time, she simply stared at the wall. No one could reach her. Not even me.”
Tears streamed down her face. Ian gathered her into his arms and held her as she sobbed against his shoulder.
“I
wanted a family so much,” she whispered.
“How dare he take that from me, from Gillian? How dare he send my mother into a living hell? She grieved all those years, and for what?” She took several deep breaths, then sat up.
Ian wiped away Lily’s tears and smoothed her hair back from her face, but she derived little comfort from the soothing gestures.
“It’s no wonder he didn’t want to see me. I wish I’d taken your dagger to him when I saw him,” she snarled.
Her ferocity—and her insight—reminded Ian of her sister.
He hadn’t thought Lily would realize so quickly who was to blame for this tragedy. Or that there had to be more to the story. They needed to consider it all, to find a way to best Llywelyn. Otherwise, Lily would always be in danger.
“I believe I know why he did it,” Ian said. He reached for the mug of water she’d given him and handed it to her, urging her to drink.
“What reason could he possibly have for this?” she asked, her voice bitter.
“Power.”
“Doesn’t he have enough power already?”
“He could always use more. And eighteen years ago, he hadn’t yet gained what he has today. He has a vision, one we share, of a united Wales. We’ll be better able to fight our enemies if we’re not constantly battling each other.
“Tis a curse upon the Welsh people, I think, that we cannot agree with anyone about anything for long.”
“I don’t understand, Ian. What does he stand to gain from this? From me?”
“You are the daughter of a marcher lord and a member of the Welsh nobility—kin to the prince himself. Your father’s keep, l’Eau Clair, commands a fine piece of the marches—a Norman piece, for the moment. Although it is your family’s only holding, ‘tis an important one.”
“But if my sister is Norman, she has no loyalty to Llywelyn. How—”.
He waved her to silence as the pieces began to fall into place.
“I believes I see it now,” he told her, His lips twisted into a smile.
“It all makes perfect sense, and explains any number of other events I didn’t really understand.”
Lily poked him in the chest.
“Then explain this to me.
I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Llywelyn is a crafty bastard, though I knew that already.
But I never realized how far to the future he looks when making plans. Your sister is Norman, tree, but she was an infant when Lowri left. And so far as I know, Lord Simon had no idea she carried another child. Life is uncertain, and Simon was already a man past his prime.
Perhaps Llywelyn thought to gain control of l’Eau Clair.”
“I still don’t understand,” Lily said impatiently.
“It could have happened several ways. If Llywelyn had possession of Lowri and Simon died, he could bring her back and control the keep–and the heir, Gillian—through her.” His blood thrummed through his veins with growing anger as he considered it.
“Once you were born, it added another possibility to the scheme. If Gillian died, as well, or survived her father but refused to comply with Llywelyn’s wishes, he still had you. You’ve been raised as a Welshwoman. Your loyalty should be to him.”
“It isn’t now,” she added darkly.
“Since you’re a woman—a woman with little knowledge of the world, thanks to him—he could control you.”
He frowned as he considered another alternative.
“Or wed you to someone he could manipulate.”
“But if Gillian is married and has a child, he cannot use me for this.”
“He could if they died.” He took her hands again and gazed into her eyes, those eyes
he’d thought seemed familiar.
Now he knew why.
“The past few years, since your father died, several very strange things have happened to Gillian. She was kidnapped twice by another member of our charming family. Steffan intended to wed her and gain control of l’Eau Clair. Her child would never have survived.” He glanced away and sighed in frustration.
“Llywelyn did nothing to him, despite the fact that he’d harmed a noblewoman—his kinswoman. The second time, Steffan tried to kill my sister, Catrin, too.”
“Where is Steffan now? Could he be involved in this?”
“He’s dead,” Ian said, his voice rich with satisfaction.
“My only regret is that Nicholas Talbot got to him before I could.” He smiled ruefully.
“Of course, Gillian’s husband, Rannulf, would likely have stepped in before I got a chance. He had the right.”
Lily stared at Ian, fascinated by the play of emotions across his handsome face. She still hadn’t quite adjusted to the idea that she had a family after all—and what a family! Strong, powerful, and loyal to each other. She tried not to think about her other kin, the dangerous ones.
She pushed the sadness of her parents’ grief deep, and tried to focus on the present.
“There’s so much I don’t know. Will you tell me?”
She rubbed at her forehead, but the ache growing behind her eyes refused to disappear.
Ian smoothed his hand through her haft and stroked the back of her neck in a soothing caress.
“I’ll tell you all I can, but not tonight. You look ready to drop.” He turned her so that her back was to him and used both hands to rub at her tense muscles.
“Rest awhile. Try to sleep.
There will be time enough in the morning to talk again.”
Lily wanted to continue the conversation, but she could see that Ian would not. He’d already given her so much to consider, she doubted she’d rest at all. But she settled herself more comfortably on the hard ground.
The last thing she heard before she drifted off was his deep, strong voice promising that he would protect her, no matter what.
Chapter Nine
A strange clattering sound jolted Lily from sleep. It seemed to rise from the earth itself, shattering the silence. She sat up and discovered that her skirts were tangled with Ian’s legs.
He already had his sword in hand. He flipped her bliaut out of his way and stood. His booted feet made quick work of extinguishing the glowing embers, all that remained of their fire. In the near dark, he tugged his dagger from the sheath at his waist and handed it to her.
“No matter what, stay behind me,” he whispered harshly as he crept toward the doorway.
The sound of hoofbeats stopped. She could just make out the brush Of Ian’s tunic against the rough stone wall of the cave, and then there was silence.
Her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears, and she clutched Ian’s dagger until her knuckles ached. Who would come for them in the night? Who even knew they were here?
“God damn it, Dai!” Ian cried. Rocks clattered outside the cave.
“It’s a wonder I didn’t skewer you.”
She could hear someone’s gasping breath—Dai’s, perhaps—then the thump of running feet.
“Lily, come quickly,” Inn called.
Moving with care in the darkness, she left the cave. At least there was still moonlight outside, faint but helpful.
Partway down the hill, Inn supported a slumped-over man.
“Dai’s been shot,” he told her as she rushed to them.
“Took an arrow in the shoulder. Come help me. We’ve got to get him inside.”
Dui raised his head, moaning from the effort.
“Nay, milord. You must go. Now. They’ll be on your trail by mom. Don’t worry about me. Somebody’il find me soon enough.”
“Who did this?” Inn asked, ignoring Dai’s instructions and half carrying him to the cave.
“Llywelyn’s man. He’s dead, but there’ll be others.”
Dui coughed, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
“Go, damn you! Who knows what he’ll do to you?” he gasped.
“Or to her. Will you let him win?”
Inn brought him inside and struck his flint to a candle stub. Lily looked at the old man in the flickering light and knew he could not last. She met Inn’s gaze. He knew it, too, though she could see he didn’t want to accept the fact.
“Please, milord!” Dui cried, attempting to rise.
Lily shook her head sharply when Inn opened his mouth to speak. She grabbed his arm and tugged him to the mouth of the cave.
“He’s done for, Inn. There’s no way you can help him but to do as he asks. At least he’ll rest easy, knowing you escaped.”
He closed his pain-filled eyes and nodded.
“Gather our things, quickly, while I say goodbye.”
She stuffed their possessions into the packs, with complete disregard for everything but speed.
“Lily, come here,” Ian called as she closed the flap on the last bag.
He’d propped Dai up against the wall. He looked ghastly, his wrinkled face as pale as his linen shirt.
Lily knelt down beside him and took his hand. ““Tis good to see you, milady,” he said. His voice sounded weaker than before.
“Take care of the Dragon.” When he met her gaze, she could see that he knew she cared about Ian.
Dai picked up Ian’s hand and held it with hers.
“And you take care of her, lad. You were meant to find her. I know you’ll keep her safe.”
As they watched, Dai’s eyes drifted shut, and his breath eased away in a sigh.
Lily made the sign of the cross, and saw Ian do the same. His eyes shuttered, his face cold, he unbuckled Dai’s sword belt and took it with him as he stood.
“It was a gift from my father,” he said quietly.
“Dai wanted me to have it.”
She drew Dai’s cloak over his face as Ian shouldered the saddlebags. Then, giving Dai’s body one last look, she snuffed the candle and left the cave.
Ian took her ann to help her over the loose rocks dotting the hillside.
“Dai brought an extra horse. They’re tethered with Mouse. We’ll be able to make better time, with three mounts.”
“Where will we go?”
“I’m not certain. Ashby might be best. It’s close by, and since it’s a Norman keep, Llywelyn doesn’t have access to it without Nicholas’s leave—which he Will not get,” he snapped.
“Nicholas is your brother-by-marriage?” she asked, gasping at the headlong pace he set. He grabbed her just as her feet slid out from under her.
“Aye.” He slowed down a bit, a consideration she appreciated greatly. Her skirts hampered her; there was some advantage to men’s garb, she thought.
“You do know how to ride?” he asked when they reached the horses.
“No. I’m sorry.”
He began to curse.
“Mouse seems a gentle animal.”
“He’s a trained war-horse, Lily. A beast like this is quite capable of killing you where you stand—or unseating you and crushing you beneath his hooves. Don’t let his name—or the fact that he seems to like you—lead you to believe him to be something he’s not.”
She swallowed the huge lump suddenly clogging her throat, but she stood her ground. In truth, it was the thought of sitting up so high by herself that she found frightening—a foolish reaction for one who’d climbed a castle wall, she knew. But a wall did not move.
However, she didn’t want Ian to see her fear.
“He’s used to me. I could ride him.” Still he hesitated.
“What alternative do we have? I refuse to slow us down—I’m endangering you enough as it is. Either put me up on that horse, or go on alone.” She folded her arms about herself for comfort. Both choices left her shaking like a leaf.
“That would be best, anyway.”
It was difficult
to see in the moonlight filtering through the trees, but she thought Ian looked at her as though she were daft. Perhaps she was. However, he saddled Mouse and loaded the packs onto the spare horse.
He tossed her onto Mouse’s broad back and handed her the reins without a word to her, though he stopped to murmur to the horse.
Swinging into the saddle, he wheeled his mount around until it sidled up to Mouse.
“Just let him do the work.
Trust that he’ll keep you safe.” He leaned over and kissed her lips, hard.
“Stay with me and be careful.”
The terrain between the cave and Ashby Keep was rocky, hilly, and difficult to traverse. The mere sliver of moon hanging low in the night sky didn’t do much to help light their way. At times they scarcely made any headway at all.
Lily clung to the saddle with one hand and the reins with the other, although Mouse seemed to manage fine without her guidance. Trying to ignore the way her heart raced at the remembrance of Ian’s mouth upon hers, she turned her attention instead to staying in the saddle. For the first time on this journey, she rode astride, with her skirts all rucked up about her knees. The skin along the insides of her legs had begun to chafe already.
Ian halted beside her as dawn began to brighten the sky.
“I don’t believe we’re being followed. Not yet, at any rate. We’ll rest for a bit, eat, and let the horses drink.”
He pointed to a tiny stream.
He helped her down and held her steady until her legs stopped shaking.
“Here,” he said, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to an area carpeted with dead leaves.
“You rest, while I take care of the horses.”
Though it went against the grain to sit and let him wait upon her, Lily accepted his help gratefully. Her legs felt boneless, and her thighs burned. She didn’t think she could have been much help. So she spread out her cloak and basked in the wintery sunshine, letting it soothe her. So much had happened in the past few days, she felt battered and confused.
And now she worried whether her family would accept her.
What would Ian’s sister, Catrin, think, when he rode in with her? They had been raised in a noble household.
Lady Catrin would expect Lily to know all sorts of skills that Lily knew she lacked. She was unfamiliar with any other life but the cloister.
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