Gingerly he sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the mattress with both hands, his legs dangling. When the light headedness left him, he summoned Conall. “I’ve a plan in mind, Conall, which I’ll share with you. Prince Rhodri has told me of Lady Rhoni’s father. He is a powerful Norman Earl—”
Conall spat.
Ronan took hold of the boy’s shoulders. “You must learn to hide your emotions, Conall. An alliance with a Norman Earl may be to our advantage. I sense Lady Rhoni is drawn to me for some reason—”
Conall snorted.
Ronan dug his fingers into the boy’s flesh and shook him. “Again, you betray yourself. Be more circumspect. Let us hide our disdain for Normans and see if there is aught to be gained from courting the lady.”
Conall looked at him. “You would woo her? To court her father?”
“Aye,” Ronan replied, hoping the lie was not written on his face. “What other reason would I have for pursuing her?”
Conall grinned.
Ronan punched him in the shoulder. “Now, find me some clothing and help me dress. Fetch those cursed crutches. I must seek out Prince Rhodri.”
Rhoni sobbed into the bolster of her bed, striking it over and over with her fist, cursing her stupidity. She had made a complete fool of herself over Ronan. She had seen it in Conall’s eyes and the arrogant stance of his naked body. How dare he? She was the daughter of an Earl. He had no respect, and Ronan had allowed it, mocked her equally.
Perhaps he was indeed an ignorant farmer.
It was time to leave Powwydd, time to return to her normal life in Ellesmere, far away from Ronan. Her preoccupation with him would bring nothing but heartbreak. Filled with regret, she set off in search of Rhodri.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rhodri and his wife were taking their ease in the small chamber off the neuadd. He cradled her in his lap, something he had enjoyed doing for twenty years. It never failed to remind him of the first days of their meeting in Cadair Berwyn.
If it was possible, he loved her more now than he did then. The goddess Arianrhod had predicted true when she had appeared to him long ago in his dream—Rhonwen was his destiny.
He kissed the top of her head. “Do you still believe in destiny, Rhonwen?”
She snuggled closer to his chest. “Of course I do. Why?”
He rubbed his chin against her grey hair. “You and I knew we were meant for each other, but not everyone acknowledges what their heart knows to be true.”
Rhonwen hesitated before she replied. “You speak of Rhoni?”
He tucked her hair behind her ear. “She is drawn to Ronan, but hasn’t yet admitted she loves him.”
Rhonwen sat up and looked at him. “But she is the daughter of a Norman Earl. Ronan is a dispossessed Irishman full of hatred and the thirst for vengeance for the evils that have been visited on him. I hope I did the right thing allowing her to keep vigil over him last night.”
He pulled her back to his chest. “Is it ever easy? I think he burns for her as much as she craves him, but he is a nobleman who will put his duty first. I don’t envy them their dilemma, but if they are like us, they will each find an excuse to be with the other.”
Rhonwen cradled his face in her hands. “If it is their destiny to be together, let’s pray it comes to pass. Miracles can happen, you know.”
He kissed his wife deeply, filled with happiness that such a great love had been his to enjoy and savour. Ronan surely deserved to experience such a love after what he had suffered.
A tapping at the door broke them apart.
“Dewch yn!” Rhodri called.
Ronan hobbled into the chamber, Conall at his elbow. “Forgive the intrusion, Prince Rhodri. May I speak with you?”
Rhonwen hastened to Ronan’s side, taking hold of his arm. “My lord, what are you doing out of bed? Come, be seated.”
Ronan accepted her aid and sat heavily in the chair Rhodri had vacated, handing his crutches to Conall. “I thank you, Lady Rhonwen, but I am much recovered, thanks to your excellent care—and that of your assistants.”
Conall made a snorting noise as he propped the crutches against the wall in a corner and slouched, arms folded. Ronan looked at him with displeasure.
Rhownen frowned and glanced at her perplexed husband. He too had sensed Conall’s evident scorn of Lady Rhoni’s presence in Lord Ronan’s chamber.
Ronan cleared his throat, poking his finger into the top of his cast. “My leg is mending well, I think, but for this infernal itching!”
Rhonwen smiled. “I have a salve to ease some of that discomfort. Another sennight and the bindings should be ready to come off.”
“Good, good, I thank you.”
The uncomfortable silence stretched for several long minutes. Rhodri stood with his back to the hearth, his hands clasped behind him. Ronan evidently had something to say. “You wished to speak with me?”
Ronan gripped his knees then rubbed his palms along his thighs. “It concerns the Earl of Ellesmere.”
Conall shifted his weight. The corners of Rhonwen’s mouth edged up. Rhodri raised an eyebrow. “Ram de Montbryce?”
Ronan nodded. “Aye. Lady Rhoni’s father.”
Rhodri waited.
“If I am to regain my lands, I will need allies. My uncle in Ireland will aid me, but his kingdom is far away, and he has problems of his own to deal with. My estate was stolen by two brothers named MacFintain, but they have been aided in their crimes by a Norman Earl.
“You have assured me Montbryce cannot be the guilty one. Perhaps allying with an honourable Norman would be to my advantage. Would he be open to such a proposal?”
Rhodri raked a hand through his hair. “I may have spoken too hastily before. Ram de Montbryce is an honourable man, but he is a Norman nonetheless. They have an innate sense of form and order. He will want to understand the benefit to him and his earldom. On top of the power he wields in the Welsh Marches, he and his family control vast estates in Sussex as well as half of Normandie.”
Ronan grimaced. “In other words why would he come to the aid of a dispossessed Irish nobleman?”
Rhonwen frowned. Rhodri was not sure he liked the way the conversation was going either.
There was another prolonged silence before Ronan spoke again. “When does Lady Rhoni intend to leave for Ellesmere?”
Rhonwen opened her mouth but Rhodri dissuaded her with a slight shake of his head. “I am not sure. We have not discussed it. She has expressed a desire to visit her birthplace in my mountain fortress at Cadair Berwyn before returning home.”
“How far is that?”
“Three hours, in good weather. If we are to make the journey, it should be soon.”
Ronan beckoned to Conall to fetch his crutches. The lad helped him rise. “Thank you for your insights, Lord Rhodri. I appreciate your counsel. I must think on my next course of action.”
He bowed to Rhonwen and was about to take his leave. Rhodri put a hand on his arm. “As I told you before, despite our enmity, some members of the Montbryce family are dear to me, and to Rhonwen. We would not want to see them hurt.”
Ronan nodded grimly and Conall opened the door.
Lady Rhoni de Montbryce stood on the threshold, her hand raised to knock.
Rhoni’s knees failed her. She grasped the doorframe with one hand. She did not attempt to speak, knowing no sound would emerge from her suddenly dry lips and constricted throat. Conall stood behind his master. Ronan seemed as surprised as she at their chance encounter. Suddenly he leaned forward on his crutches, reaching for the hand that clutched her waist. His heat poured into her body.
“My lady Rhoni,” Ronan rasped. “I apologise for the unseemly behaviour of my servant earlier.”
Rhoni’s eyes darted to the scowling Conall. She had to get hold of her emotions, had to remember who she was. “I see no sign of remorse on his face. A servant who acted thusly in my father’s household would be cast out immediately,” she replied, embarrassed to have to rely on his
hand for support.
Ronan turned to Conall and spoke in his language. “And I expect high standards of behaviour from my servants. You will apologise.”
The boy’s expression turned sheepish. His face reddened as he bowed to Rhoni. “I beg your forgiveness, Lady de Montbryce.”
Ronan explained the boy’s apology. She suddenly became aware of his thumb brushing over her knuckles. Her breasts tingled as desire and anger mingled in her veins. Did he think to distract her from her ire with Conall? She pulled her hand away but he held firm, bending to brush a kiss on her knuckles. Moisture flooded at the crux of her thighs.
It mortified her that a servant watched. Was it obvious she was aroused? “My lord?” she stammered, flummoxed by this sudden courtly behaviour from Ronan.
He looked up, his one dark eye piercing her. “I thank you for your care last evening. My back feels better today. I am a new man.”
It was the first time she had seen him smile. It stunned her. He was beautiful. His deep voice made her fingertips tingle with the memory of salving his back.
He bowed and took his leave. She exhaled a long breath and entered the chamber to face the lord and lady of Powwydd.
Rhonwen took Rhoni’s hand. “Come and sit, child.”
Rhoni gazed distractedly at the back of her hand, her eyes full of unshed tears. Rhonwen was worried. If Ronan and Rhoni were destined to be together, she foresaw problems if the Norman girl came to believe he courted her for political gain.
Rhodri remained by the hearth, but his expression betrayed his concern.
Rhonwen stood behind Rhoni and placed her hands on the girl’s nape, pressing her thumbs lightly into the flesh. “What is it? You look bereft.”
Rhoni let her head fall forward. “That feels good. I suppose I am tired after a long night with Lord Ronan.”
She looked up at Rhodri abruptly, her face red. “I mean—that’s not what I meant. The words did not come out right.”
Rhonwen smiled at her husband, then moved her hands to knead Rhoni’s shoulders. “We did not misunderstand. That happens when a person is tired. But he appreciated your care.”
Rhoni fisted her hands in her lap. “I suppose he did. That’s the first time I have seen him smile.”
Rhodri coughed into his fist. “Lord Ronan has suffered much, Rhoni. Torture does strange things to a man. His back will heal, his leg will mend, he will become accustomed to having one eye, but the inner scars—the hatred and the thirst for vengeance—they will take longer to exorcise.”
Rhoni chewed on her bottom lip. “I would help him heal, but he does not like me.”
Rhonwen barely heard her words, but felt the cold shiver that shook the young Norman’s body. She looked to her husband, hoping to say the right words. They both knew the healing power of love. Should they set her and Lord Ronan on a path that might lead either to a great love or to devastating heartbreak? Would it be wiser to send her home to Ellesmere?
Rhodri broke the silence. “Do you still want to journey to Cadair Berwyn?”
Rhonwen stilled her hands on Rhoni’s shoulders and felt some of the tension ebb away.
Rhoni smiled. “I would like that.”
“Then we leave in a sennight. You can travel on from there to Ellesmere.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ronan took a deep breath, preparing to take his first steps without the bindings on his leg. Conall stood ready to support his master if needs be, while Rhonwen looked on.
Ronan walked slowly around the chamber, relearning how to walk. He held his arms out at his sides, like a child taking his first steps. Having one eye did not make it easy. The padding had been removed when the wound finally ceased weeping. He fingered the black leather patch that had replaced the bandage. This was his new reality. The scars on his back and wrists would fade, the leg felt better than he had anticipated, but the eye was gone forever. He had not yet summoned the courage to look at his image in a mirror.
Women had always been attracted to his courtly manners and his body and face. His smile had charmed many an eager colleen. But he had never ill treated a woman, never used his physical endowments to take advantage.
Now his handsome appearance was a thing of the past. Women would recoil from him, though Rhoni de Montbryce did not seem repulsed.
Why he was preoccupied with this was unclear to him. A second marriage was out of the question until he avenged his wife. Mary might not have been the woman he would have chosen, but he had remained faithful to her, despite her discomfort with intimacy. She had wanted to become a nun, but her father would not hear of it.
In spite of his determination to feel nothing for Rhoni, his manhood reacted of its own accord whenever he looked at her. Nay, he had only to think of her and his arousal spiked.
What the MacFintains had done angered him, filled him with bitterness, but he would have to put that aside if he was to win Rhoni over to his cause. He needed her father’s support. He resolved, however, not to mislead her. He was not that kind of man. Lorcan and Fothud may have taken his eye and his lands and his wife and child, but he’d be damned if they would steal his honour.
Much was riding on the strength of his leg. Rhonwen would allow him to go to Cadair Berwyn only if she deemed him sufficiently healed. It was imperative he join the excursion, but did not want to argue with Rhodri’s wife. The woman had brought him back from the brink of death and he would be eternally grateful to these hospitable Welsh people.
He would not ask Rhodri for help in his quest. The Prince of Powwydd had committed his resources to the struggle against the Normans.
He had often heard it said that one day the Anglo-Normans would turn their attention to Ireland. He shuddered at the prospect of his fellow countrymen fighting them for decades as Rhodri had done. Normans were not benign invaders. After their victory at Hastings, they had enforced their rule with terror and intimidation and now held the power in England.
Was he doing the right thing in seeking an alliance with a Norman? Surely it was better to establish good relations now? He had to trust Rhodri’s judgement that Ram de Montbryce was a fair man.
Rhonwen had brought him to the small chamber off the neuadd to remove the bindings. Seemingly pleased with his progress, she held open the door. “Let’s see how you do further afield.”
Ronan was aware people had gathered in the neuadd to break their fast. He harbored an irrational hope that Rhoni would be there, and prayed he would not fall flat on his face.
Rhoni sat beside Carys, eyeing the trencher of smoked ham, black bread and yellow cheese. She was too nervous to eat, and only sipped the ale. On the morrow they would begin the journey to Cadair Berwyn where she had been born. Her mother had described it to her often, but she hankered to experience the majesty of the mountains.
To her dismay, Rhun and Rhydderch were to accompany the party. They too had been born in Cadair Berwyn.
Dread and elation warred within her at the news Ronan might be allowed to travel to Cadair Berwyn if his leg was sufficiently healed. Why did he wish to make such a trip? The mountain fortress held no significance for him.
He had softened his demeanour towards her over the course of the past sennight, treating her with courtly manners. He might prove to be a pleasant travelling companion.
She dismissed the idea immediately. Simply being in his presence turned her into a blithering idiot.
A hush fell over the gathering. Ronan had entered the Hall. In this foreign place, among people who were not his own, his bearing bespoke nobility. They did not see the eye patch, nor the slight limp, nor the borrowed raiment. They applauded his progress. He inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Conall and Rhonwen walked beside him, smiling at his steady progress.
Rhoni saw a giant, a warrior who had stood at the gates of Hell and spat in the Devil’s face. He was a man whose well-muscled body she itched to touch, whose full lips she wanted to savour. In her mind’s eye she raked her fingers through his long dark ha
ir. She wanted to tear off the eye patch and lavish kisses on the hurt of his loss. She longed to love him. She did love him.
It was a sobering truth. There had been many handsome Norman noblemen who had expressed an interest. None of them filled her with the yearning she felt now. Her parents would think she had lost her wits, or that it was a passing fancy.
Conall piled food on a trencher for his master and Ronan strode towards where she and Carys sat, his increasing confidence in his newly mended leg evident. Carys elbowed her. At least the Welsh girl had stopped her incessant chatter about Baudoin for a few moments.
Ronan came to stand before them, his arms outstretched. “I am mended!” he declared with a lopsided grin.
Rhoni’s insides melted. There were no words.
Carys giggled. “You are indeed, my lord Ronan.”
He sat down heavily beside Rhoni, his thigh mere inches from hers. Surely he could hear the beating of her heart?
He broke his bread. “I am grateful for the care I have received here. Thanks be to God we were delivered into your hands, ladies.”
“And to the seal,” Rhoni murmured.
Ronan cocked his head. “Your pardon, Lady Rhoni? Seal did you say?”
Did he not know? Had no one told him? If she shared her belief that the seal had saved him he would deem her a lunatic.
To her relief, Carys told the tale.
The blood drained from Ronan’s face. He stared at Carys, the two pieces of broken bread still in his hands, as if she had warned him of a poisonous adder coiled around his neck. An icy chill raced up Rhoni’s spine. There was no mockery in his voice when he finally spoke. He frowned and raised his tankard of ale. “Amen to the seal, then.”
His dark eye had darkened even further, drowning her. Was it black?
His deep voice jolted her. “Are you unwell, Lady Rhoni?”
She swallowed hard, unable to speak, and shook her head.
“Good! I have heard the journey to Cadair Berwyn is not for the faint of heart. You will need to have your wits about you.”
Montbryce Next Generation 01 - Dark Irish Knight Page 6
