In Debt to the Enemy Lord

by Nicole Locke

  ‘So stubborn. Don’t...fight it,’ he said. ‘I only want to give you pleasure.’ Her body listened, won whatever battle it waged against her thoughts. Her body began to move in rhythm with his fingers and to accept the pleasure he gave her.

  She sensed a change in him then. His great chest taking in rapid breaths, his skin no longer dry, but glistened with sweat. Whatever he was doing to her was costing him. Her emptiness was now an ache in intensity, the wanting undeniable.

  ‘No more.’ She gripped his wrist.

  His breath coming harshly across her skin, he rested his forehead against her shoulders, pressing his lips there. ‘I do not wish to give you pain. It would be better if—’

  ‘I need you.’ She clasped his shoulders, and pulled him closer. ‘Please, Teague. Now.’ She didn’t care if it hurt.

  His breath came in one long sigh as his grip on her hip tightened. Her words had hit him. Covering her body with his own, his hands raised her to him.

  ‘Yes, now.’ He moved his hips; a long gentle firm slide against her as her body shivered. And another, as her hips arched to keep the slide that much longer. His eyes pinned hers, as he held himself just over her.

  ‘Now, it’s...necessary.’ He surged in one swift motion.

  She cried out as her body tensed in pain.

  Through the haze, she heard his haggard breath against her ear. But already her pain eased, already the emptiness began inside her. She didn’t want the emptiness. She glided her hands up his back to cup his broad shoulders.

  ‘Please,’ she whispered again.

  ‘Soon. We must wait.’

  ‘Now,’ she demanded and pressed her hips more firmly to his.

  He moaned, kissing her cheek as he lifted himself up, as he pulled his hips away, before he surged into her again. Deep within, her body fluttered and tensed.

  ‘Anwen.’ He froze and shuddered. She froze with him.

  When he moved his hips in a rhythmic circle, it compelled her to follow him. She asked him to fill her, but she was overflowing, the force of his movements pressing. Her body arching. Wanting. ‘More,’ she gasped.

  ‘Yes!’ he cried, his movements giving her more, demanding more until she cried out too as her body tensed. As his did against hers and he enfolded her in his arms tightly, so tightly, before he collapsed beside her.

  It was over. Anwen gathered the covers when the heat ebbed from her. Already the cold began to intrude, and she kept her eyes on the formidable man beside her to keep it away.

  Teague lay on his stomach beside her, his head rested on his arm. When he raised his head to look at her, a dark lock of his hair caressed her cheek. She did nothing to remove it.

  ‘Are you well?’ he said.

  The pain, every loss that brought her here weighed her thoughts, but lying next to Teague pushed them far enough away for her to rest. It was the most she could hope for now. ‘Yes.’

  He closed his eyes as if in relief, as if he savoured the one word.

  ‘Now do you know?’ He trailed a finger along her cheek, catching it just under her chin to turn her head to his. ‘Now will you admit to what is between us?’

  His words sent a fissure through her and she tilted her head away from his touch, but she didn’t lower her eyes from him.

  She had sought him to avoid thinking of her sister, of her home. Teague thought otherwise. Was it the truth? Had she sought him because of that connection between them? She had felt loss before...heartache, more than most, so what made this time different? Why had she sought comfort with him? To seek such answers, she feared her pain wouldn’t stay distant much longer.

  ‘I admit nothing,’ she answered. ‘Nothing.’

  Two fingers under her chin lifted her face, forcing her to feel his touch. ‘Don’t do this. In the fire, you came back for me, gave me your body. Admit, Anwen of Brynmor, what you feel.’

  She expected his arrogance, but there was too much light to his eyes, too much...emotion. She turned on her side away from him. It was probably a telling move, but she didn’t care. Something was stronger between them. Something that had strengthened in the fire...when he needed her.

  ‘I admit,’ she answered. ‘I admit to grieving and needing a closeness with someone. It’s over now.’

  ‘You lie,’ he growled.

  Ah, this is why she fought the creance between them. His sudden arrogance reminded her of who he was. He was a lord. He wanted control and power, just like Urien. Abruptly, she scrambled off the pallet. In the fire’s light, she pulled on the clean clothes he had brought, struggled to extricate her wet clothes from his.

  The task kept her busy. Anything to forget the warmth in the Traitor’s eyes. That warmth, when she sought only forgetfulness. Lying with him was a grave error. Of course, the Lord of Gwalchdu’s greed would encompass her in his bed, as well.

  Teague stood, grasped her wrist and spun her to face him. ‘This is not over.’

  She could feel his will to move her. Realisation of his dominance swept through her. She hadn’t been thinking. Only feeling. Her sister was dead. But nothing could change between them.

  She wrenched her hand away. ‘Don’t touch me! Everything is over.’

  She didn’t care if he watched her flee the hut. She only hoped to forget how he stood framed in the doorway by the firelight. Clutching his clothes in one hand as if he meant to follow her, Teague, Lord of Gwalchdu, stood still as cold stone. Stood half in light, half in darkness...and alone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Teague stretched his arms above his head and searched for Anwen in the crowd of people walking through the camp. When he didn’t see her, he had to dispel the now familiar unease he felt whenever she was not in his immediate sight.

  It had been almost a sennight since he talked to her, touched her. She did her best to ignore him and he would give her time for now.

  Everything’s over, she said. He knew otherwise. His need for her was a thousand times more powerful since he held her.

  Had he ever known a woman like her before? No. His unexpected reaction to her in the forest when he had caught her didn’t trouble him so much now. She’s mine, he had thought. And she was. Despite his ill treatment of her, she’d come back for him in the fire. She risked her own life trying to save his.

  Hadn’t he realised her loyalty before? Climbing the tree, she made her devotion to Melun clear. In the mews, she told him of Alinore and how she had to get back to her. He just never thought...never hoped, she would be loyal to him.

  She’d come back for him and yet she fought him. And why not? He didn’t deserve her loyalty. Not when he knew what she did not.

  Someone was trying to kill him and that person had miscalculated, terribly, when they chose a fire to do it.

  In all the damage to Brynmor, one certainty was terrifying and relieving. If he had not taken Anwen out to the hut that night, she would have died, just as Alinore had.

  The majority of damage was done in his chambers and the two connecting ones. The location of the fire was too calculated. He was sure it was linked to the death threats, thereby he was responsible for the consequences. By coming here, he had put Brynmor in jeopardy, killed Alinore and Urien, and risked Anwen’s life.

  And what had she done? She came back for him. Gave him a gift he’d never received before. Loyalty.

  He argued she owed him a debt for her life. He knew he now owed her and he knew how to pay her.

  By staying away from her. By keeping her safe within his protection, within Gwalchdu, just never in his arms again. His enemy couldn’t know of her importance to him.

  He knew that last night, though it had been born of lust—no, it was more than lust. Her body glistening with water wasn’t what compelled him to touch her. It was the need in her eyes. After she came back for him, how co
uld he refuse her need? He knew what it was like to be alone.

  But that wasn’t the worst of his weakness. That moment was when he demanded she acknowledge there was something more between them than mere desire. It was good she refused him. He knew what connections did to those who felt bound to them. He needed no weaknesses now.

  Now he needed to sever any remaining feelings between them, which should be easy. After all, she didn’t trust the connection, didn’t trust him. To ensure that distrust, he would tell her of the threats. She wouldn’t forgive him then; he could hardly forgive himself.

  ‘Some families will not cooperate.’ Rhain strode over and picked up a saddle to place it on to the cart.

  ‘What is their reason this time?’ Teague gathered some bridles and threw them on the cart, where they made a splintered clang.

  He’d worked tirelessly to remedy the damage of the fire. There was little left of Brynmor’s keep and buildings, and what little there was wasn’t enough to rebuild. It was best for the people to move to Gwalchdu for shelter and protection. The weather held thus far and only gentle rains had fallen, but it was turning colder.

  ‘They are not giving any excuses now. They are already occupying the undamaged huts outside Brynmor’s fallen gates.’

  ‘They have to move.’ Teague’s voice left no room for argument. ‘They are too vulnerable to an attack.’

  ‘A persuasive argument, but these people are not exactly in favour of the English. They do not want your protection.’

  ‘I am half-Welsh.’

  Rhain gave him a pointed look.

  Teague stopped in his lifting. ‘Give them a monetary reason then. Those outbuildings aren’t meant for winter occupation. I’ll provide them with better homes, give them extra supplies. We’ll provide them with whatever they need.’

  Rhain gave a low whistle. ‘There are hundreds left here. It may deplete your coffers more than your Spanish armour did. With certainty, there will be those who’ll take advantage of the situation.’

  Teague gazed over Rhain’s shoulder, seeking answers there. There were none. Now that the emergency of the fire was over, he was beginning to feel an anger that not even the slaughter of the Welsh Wars had instilled.

  Visions of Anwen going into the burning building blurred with her saving him, with her lying with him. In his dreams he didn’t know what to protect her from: himself or the fire.

  Returning his attention to Rhain, he said, ‘Let them have it. I’ll not take this chance again.’

  ‘This is guilt speaking.’ His brother crossed his arms. ‘What gave you suspicion?’

  ‘Most of the damage occurred in my private rooms, which spread to Urien’s, Alinore’s and Anwen’s. The fire was too widely dispersed. If it was accidental, it would have happened in one spot and spread slowly from there, giving time for people to escape.’

  ‘But two did not escape. We can at least mark Urien off the list of possible enemies.’

  ‘Even so, we are no closer to the truth. Why set fire to my room when I wasn’t there?’

  Rhain shrugged. ‘Everything this enemy has done implies they are not working with reason.’

  Teague’s anger was too close to the surface. ‘It is senseless to destroy an entire manor and endanger others simply to get to me. The fire left such a waste and all for nothing.’

  ‘But it seems they did get to you. You are shaken by this.’

  Shaken was too tame a word. He still couldn’t see the bright golden halo of hair. He’d have to search for Anwen soon. His unknown enemy had little regard for whatever destruction he wrought or whom he killed. He would not allow any harm to come to Anwen.

  ‘Ah, you look over your shoulder again.’ Rhain nodded. ‘Perhaps your worry is for another? After all the time you took to save Anwen, you certainly wouldn’t want your hard work going to waste.’

  Teague’s glare would have quelled a king.

  Rhain raised one eyebrow. ‘I understand that expression, brother, but I’ll let it drop for now. You are not yourself.’

  ‘Remind me to teach you to talk plainly one day.’ Teague lifted up another saddle and Rhain took the other side to help him set it down gently.

  ‘I think what you feel is plain enough, but if you wish to hide it from yourself, it’s not for me to reveal it for you.’

  He owed no explanation to his brother. Teague shoved the saddle deeper into the cart. ‘It is my responsibility to protect her and everyone else who belongs to Gwalchdu! Just ensure everyone from Brynmor is moved to Gwalchdu. I don’t want them making any more excuses.’

  Rhain bowed. ‘I’m at your command.’

  * * *

  Anwen stared across to the river’s opposite bank. Tomorrow, Gwalchdu’s side of the river would be her home. Even with nothing for her left at Brynmor, she fought the truth.

  Alinore was buried in the circle of trees, where Robert tended her the night she died. It was a beautiful spot and that eased some of Anwen’s heartache.

  Melun left for Gwalchdu a few days after the burials. Once the services were done, Ffion and the rest of Brynmor’s residents left, as well. Anwen was grateful for the Sister’s healing medicines and implacable character. In the chaos following the fire, both were needed in abundance.

  Anwen had not left for Gwalchdu to help with the unloading, but she heard that carpenters and blacksmiths were already building new cottages. Teague was sparing no cost. He had spoken of fairness, but he was going beyond that. Why? Her people could have been separated, sent to faraway villages and manor houses.

  It was another aspect of the man she would have to reconcile within herself. How could one man be a deceiver, a traitor, but also a giver and lover? A warrior, yet one willing to give her gentleness?

  Why was she thinking about him when she knew he had betrayed the Welsh by siding with the English King? He was the downfall of Brynmor, of Wales. He was a man of power and dominance.

  Yet she sought his comfort when she was in pain, when she grieved for Alinore. From the first moment they met, she had trusted him to catch her. He made her feel safe. Should she—?

  ‘We need to talk.’

  Teague stood to her left. He wore a tunic streaked with sweat and dust. His breeches were crusted with mud. His hair was tied back, but whole strands were loose. He had been working as hard as she. Yet she noticed other aspects of him, as well.

  She noticed the strength of his arms, but she remembered all too acutely how those arms enveloped her. She knew the texture of his skin, the roughness of his hair. He had not spoken to her since that night in the hut and she was grateful for the reprieve. It allowed her time to build her defences against him. With the way her body responded to his nearness now, she needed all her defences.

  Teague did not wait for a response, but took long strides away from the camp. Away from the camp, down the river’s bank and not up the hill towards the hut. Was she disappointed? No. That night in the hut felt a lifetime ago.

  Feeling her feet sink into the rocky pebbles, she hurriedly caught up with him.

  * * *

  Teague stopped when he believed no one could hear them. He didn’t know how Anwen would react, but if it were he, his anger would know no bounds. He counted on her to be angry so he could keep her safe.

  He hesitated. He hadn’t been this close to her for a week. The wind loosened her plait and her hair waved in angelic golden curls. He wanted to smooth her hair, feel its springy softness between his fingers. But angels could be vengeful and he was about to disclose grave tidings.

  She seemed to sense it; her body was motionless as she clasped her hands in front of her. Her even blue gaze gave him time to say what he needed to say, but gave him no comfort as to how his words would be received. No matter, he didn’t deserve her comfort. He simply had to pay a debt.

 
‘It was my fault,’ he said. ‘The fire. It was my fault. I think it was against Gwalchdu, that they wanted to take something from Gwalchdu. It should have never happened here.’

  ‘How?’ She stepped closer to him, pressing his arm, pulling his attention more sharply towards her. ‘How is the fire your fault?’

  ‘Your hands are cold.’ He took both her hands in his, chafing them between his. Touching her, feeling the pull to take the extra step until he could hold her, overwhelmed him. He resisted. ‘They’ve never been this cold before. That’s my fault, too.’

  She tugged her hands away. ‘The coldness of my hands is just because they’re cold.’

  He could see she did not understand. She wouldn’t be standing this close to him if she understood. ‘I have an enemy.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes...’

  ‘No, this is recent and, I believe, personal. They have been plaguing me for months now, but I don’t know who it is.’ Teague exhaled slowly to let some of the anger out of him. ‘He leaves messages. There are often gaps in their frequency, but never a doubt in their meaning.’

  She stood still, but he could see the slight tremors in her hands. She was beginning to understand.

  ‘The first message was hidden in the saddle on Rhain’s horse. Since then, there have been more messages tied to the slaughtered carcasses of small animals. Even if I don’t understand the messages, I cannot avoid the implied meaning. He wants my death and the destruction of Gwalchdu. It is one of the reasons I went to Brynmor, to see if this place had any play in the part of the messages.’ He paused. ‘I suspect this enemy may have started Brynmor’s fire.’

  A stark hollowness clouded her eyes as his words sunk in. ‘Are you telling me,’ she said, ‘that I, and hundreds of others, lost their home, that Urien and my sister were killed because you chose to visit Brynmor when there was a threat of death against you?’

  ‘I am.’

  Her face was pale, her body unnaturally motionless, but she understood. He wouldn’t have to give her any more information.