by Sandra Jones
He grunted, joining the conversation. “Gieva de Tracy is the one I’m truly dressing her for. Wit and humor don’t impress my mother as easily as they do my little sister.”
Eleri took the ornament from Gwen’s hands, then suddenly spun toward him. Her pretty eyes rounded. “You just spoke in Cyrmreig! You understand us?”
His clothing felt too tight. He stood and loosened the lacings of his collar, suddenly craving the ale of the great hall. “Oui. Gwen has been teaching me a little.”
“My lord is a good pupil.”
He groaned inwardly. “Thank you, Gwen.” Following the maid out, he caught Eleri’s hand and hurried her into the passageway.
His palm felt clammy against her cooler one. Her small fingers laced with his, and together they descended the wooden stairs. With good fortune, mayhap she wouldn’t notice his unease or question him further about his studies. But when he glanced down, she was watching him. His insides flipped.
“Warren, what made you decide to learn my language?”
Hope filled her voice, and it wrapped around his heart like a lute string. “Why do you think?”
Her mouth pinched in thought. He longed to kiss those sweet lips, and if he had more time, he would. They’d not made love since early that morning, and as he’d discovered these past three days, even the shortest length of time he was out of his captive’s arms was far too long.
“I think…you dislike not knowing what I say to Sayer and Nest.”
He smiled. “Of course.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me? It’s no small accomplishment to learn so quickly.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs. The voices of the dinner guests rose in a muffled din from the great hall while the glow of the braziers stretched out to their shadowy alcove, not quite disturbing their last moment of privacy. He could wait no longer to tell her what must be said.
Letting her go would kill him. He cursed the day he’d made his ridiculous threat because he’d known it was a lie. Trading Eleri back to the Deheubarth to free Claire from her betrothal? Foolish.
His heart hammered as he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Eleri…”
Her eyebrows lifted in question.
“We need to talk,” he whispered. He cupped her jaw, passing his thumb along the smooth place where only a small yellow oval remained from her injury. She stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, tilting her face up to him. And he was lost.
Unable to fight his feelings any longer, he crushed his mouth against hers.
They kissed recklessly, hands gripping each other’s bodies, breathing raggedly. He drowned in her, adoring the feel of her soft body and her demanding kisses. In bed or out, they made excellent sparring partners. But now when fantasies of dragging her back into the bedchamber for more lovemaking began to tempt him from his duties, he broke away.
Easing back, a new current of vexation and longing washed over him. He struggled to finish, though his lowered voice sounded gruff to his own ears. “I memorized what the wraith said the nights I saw her at the river. It was the first thing I asked of Gwen.”
Eleri stilled. Her eyes were luminous, telling him how right he’d been about the importance of the message.
“I may not be your husband, but even if I was, I wouldn’t let her prediction stand between us. Isn’t being together for a short time better than not being together at all?”
Her eyes pooled with tears. “Gwrach might’ve meant someone else’s husband would die, but…whose? I couldn’t let you die. If I married you—”
“Do you care for me, ma cœur?” He held her face between his hands, his heart in his throat as he waited for her answer.
“Aye.” She stood on tiptoe to press her mouth to his. Her answer nearly knocked him off his feet.
Hope swelled within. “Listen to me,” he murmured above her lips. Resting his forehead against hers, he summoned greater courage than he’d had in the East or even when facing his father’s wrath. “Prince Lew is here. I’ve informed him you are, too. You can leave with him if you wish, or…you can stay with me.”
Eleri backed up to read Warren’s expression. She’d never offered him the chance of his freedom, but here he was, giving her an opportunity to leave—a man who admittedly was possessive and proud, who fought against his own fierce need for retribution—letting her go because…mayhap he cared for her even more than himself? Loved her even?
His gaze held hers now with piercing interest. She sniffed back tears. Did she care for him? Oh, indeed she did!
Still, the old sense of foreboding gripped her heart. “But Gwrach is never wrong.”
He shook his head, frowning. “Non, I do not care! If you stay, I’ll not let another thing come between us. We belong to each other.” He took her hand, kissed it and laid it over his heart. “I pray I’ve made my feelings known. The only death I fear is the one I feel when we’re apart.”
She blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I love you. I won’t leave you again.”
He pulled her against him and kissed her damp cheek. When he straightened, a smile radiated across his face.
She clung to his shoulders, scarcely trusting to let go of him now that he was hers. “But what about Lew? If you don’t trade me for Claire—”
“You know the prince better than I. Will he give up the union willingly, or will we need to ply him with some other bribe?”
She stroked her lips with her thumb, thinking. “Let me speak with him. He usually listens to my advice. I’ll ask him not to join Father’s revolt.” Warren’s face was serious, not at all convinced. The solution rested on her shoulders…if he’d have her. She added tentatively, “Neither he, nor my father, will be happy, but if you and I wed…well, how can Father attack Norman strongholds if my husband is Norman? And then King Stephen’s original plan for peace will be carried out with our marriage, so there will be no need for a second union.”
Warren’s face smoothed, and his lips parted. “Is this some Druid trickery of yours? Or ’haps that potion has put you out of your wits? I thought you said you would…wed me?”
“Norman idiot.” She smiled. “I said I would, didn’t I?”
He laughed, and the sound spilled through the alcove into the timber hall as he picked her up for a tight embrace that left her dizzy with happiness.
They were still catching their breaths as they rounded the wall and entered the expansive great hall. Warren’s arm slipped protectively around her waist, sending tingles of happiness through her as they approached the lord’s table where the other guests had already been seated.
“Sister!” Lew pushed his chair back and rose briefly in greeting.
“Good evening!” She grinned. “You’ve grown these past few months.” Later she would have to tease him about his new beard, which reminded her of a younger Owain.
At the prince’s left, Warren told her, was Lady Gieva, and on his right sat Sayer and Nest. Claire was farther down the dais on the right side of her half-brother Domenic. Warren had likely planned the arrangement to keep his sister apart from her prospective bridegroom. Even the presence of Eleri’s royal guardians seemed part of his machinations to keep the peace at the table between the two opposing factions.
After the introductions, Eleri took her seat between the guards. Curiosity drew her eyes to Warren’s family. Dom, he’d explained, was the son of a French knight, while Claire was also the late king’s. All three had the dark hair of their respective fathers, while Lady Gieva wore her blond hair in twin braids beneath a pale blue filet and veil.
After a distant smile, King Henry’s former concubine went back to her meal, clearly uninterested in the gathering. Meanwhile, Claire fidgeted in her seat, surreptitiously slipping bites of food under the table for Warren’s mastiff, Caesar. And the final object of her study, Domenic, avoided
her gaze. His cheek was healing, though mayhap his pride still stung.
Nest’s hand took hers under the table and squeezed.
She returned the gesture with a smile, and whispered, “Are you well? Warren assured me—”
“Ha!” Scowling, she withdrew her hand and picked up her knife. “I am as well as one could expect for someone who has been kept from her princess for nearly a sennight. And all I had was a Norman’s word that she was free from harm.” She stabbed her meat ruthlessly.
Eleri gestured for her to keep her voice down. “Please don’t think too harshly of Warren. He’s done nothing that we hadn’t done to him. Now that he’s had his revenge, I know he means to put everything to rights.”
“Aye. Sayer told me as much. The two of them were working together.” Nest leaned forward to glare at him and hissed, “Bastards.”
Eleri turned to Sayer and gasped. “Is this true? You helped Warren abduct me?”
He lifted his ale glass and chugged back a long drink.
She opened her mouth to confront him further for his part in the charade, but Lew’s raised voice caught her ear in a side exchange. The prince’s tone was chilly and terse as he addressed Warren, who looked none too pleased with their conversation, either, with his jaw rigid and his arms crossed over his chest.
Oh, dear. She should’ve been more attentive.
“My sister does not belong to the Crown!” Warren snapped.
“Your sovereign would disagree.” Lew leaned on his fists as he pushed himself halfway out of his seat. “Your people have stolen from us for years. Now you wish to renege on our bargain and defy King Stephen?”
“King Henry would never have forced the match.”
Lew grunted. “I suppose you would know. Apparently he never forced any match on your mother either, you bastard!”
“Lew!” Eleri shot to her feet along with Warren, whose hand went to his sword handle, and her stomach dipped. “Warren, I asked you to let me speak to him first!”
Though he didn’t attempt to answer her, his chest expanded as he visibly struggled with his temper toward his guest.
Her guards stood. If either man pushed the discussion into an altercation, loyalties would be divided.
She swept around Sayer and hooked her arm in Warren’s. “Lew, you needn’t rush into a betrothal. Warren’s king wants peace with Wales, and I—”
A Norman soldier stepped onto the dais, startling her with the interruption. He offered Warren a brief bow before leaning to speak into his ear. She strained to hear the message he’d brought, disturbing their dinner, but she couldn’t make out the words.
Warren’s arm muscles tensed under her hand.
The soldier moved further down the table, pausing to whisper in Domenic’s ear, as well.
“Sayer, Nest.” Warren beckoned her guards closer. He eased away from her to speak to them. “Escort the women and the prince to the solar. We’re under attack.”
“Attack?” Eleri snagged Warren’s hand. “By whom?”
He gave her fingers a brief squeeze before releasing her. “Vaughn.”
She scanned the hall. Verily, Lord Vaughn and his men were not among the guests.
Dom stood and drew his sword. “The sentries say he’s sent volleys of flaming arrows into the palisade. The gate is on fire.”
Warren armed himself, as well, leaving her side to follow his brother toward the exit.
Eleri shrugged off Nest’s hand and drew her dagger. “My weapons!”
“Aye, Dywysoges!” she growled, smiling, and ran for the alcove stairs.
A throng of men, both Norman and Welsh, followed the commanders out the doors, which led to the bailey and the besieged walls. Eleri hurried after them.
“Your Highness!” Sayer overtook her before she reached the door, grabbing her elbow in an iron grip. “You must not put yourself in harm’s way.”
She tore loose from his fingers. “I’ll be fine. I’m as good as any of these men.”
“But not without me.” He brandished his blade. “Let me at that cowardly whelp Vaughn. I’ll split him from throat to balls.”
Eleri gave him a quick smile. Yet catching the frightened forms of Warren’s mother and sister, who stooped to embrace Caesar’s neck as if her life depended on him, she shook her head at her friend. “Nay. Please stay. I need you to keep them safe.”
“My lady, I beg you—”
“You must stay!”
He grimaced. Then after a momentary look at the quaking ladies, he reluctantly slumped off to follow her orders.
Eleri flew out the exit and down the steep causeway, her gaze rapidly scanning the darkened field. Smoke hung in a cloudy curtain between the night sky and the bailey below. An empty belfry, used in sieges, stood between her and the gate where the soldiers spread out in a defensive line with loaded crossbows to thwart the attackers. She made out Warren and his brother’s backs as they ran toward the fray. Cursing her beautiful dress, she gathered as much of the skirt in her hands as she could and set off to join the men.
“Wait, Eleri!”
She wheeled around. Prince Lew caught up with her a short distance from the doors of the keep. Panting, he held his blade in his grip. The elaborate, royal Deheubarth engraving glimmered on the untarnished steel. “Lew! By the saints, get back inside with Sayer!”
His eyes hardened. “Leave the defense to these doomed bastards. Come with me. I know a way out.”
She glanced over her shoulders. “A way out? I’m not fleeing here. There are innocent people down there. Vaughn is mad, attacking us when he knew we were in the midst of a treaty.”
“Aye, isn’t it brilliant?” Lew’s mouth curved.
A shiver ran down her back at the striking sense of familiarity. So like Owain. And yet so…different. Rash. Immature.
He reached for her hand, but she yanked it back. “This is reprehensible. The English will retaliate, and everything will be for naught!”
He extended his palm to her. “Come, Eleri! Deheubarth will take Cardiff Castle, and your father will be very pleased. This is the Anarchy we’ve all been waiting for. We’ll take one of Normandy’s most prized strongholds and two of Stephen’s commanders will die.”
Warren and Dom?
She curled her hand against her pounding heart. “Tell me you did not conspire to kill these people? Lew, I’m going to wed Warren de Tracy!”
The corners of his lips drew into a mask of disgust. “After what he put you through? I know you don’t want to marry him, and I don’t want to wed that whore’s daughter, either. If you’d only let him die on Cantref Mawr when he was supposed to, we wouldn’t have—”
“Lew!”
The air went still around them. The shouting at the palisade dimmed while she turned his words over in her head. Shock rolled over her, and her dagger arm felt suddenly heavy. He had spared Warren’s life at her recommendation, but had he given the original order to slaughter the conroi on purpose? “You sent Gareth to kill him! You…you knew he was coming to Deheubarth with no mind to attack us, just to arrange our marriage, and you had us ambush him anyway?” In Vaughan’s hands, Warren would’ve surely been murdered. Again as her brother-in-law had intended all along.
His proud grin sickened her far worse than the stench of burning timber. “Of course. I couldn’t let his conroi reach our doorstep. The Council might’ve agreed to the arrangement, and then you would’ve been at the bastard’s mercy. I was trying to save you from a horrible fate.”
“I love him, Lew.” Her throat burned, making it hard to speak anymore. The smoke combined with threatening tears choked her. “I want to marry him. And he’ll be a good ally to the Deheubarth if we agree to this truce. You must call off Vaughn and stop the attack.”
She glanced back at the wall. Warren wore no armor, and his tunic stood out in the sea of mail. He mov
ed through the archers, shouting orders, dodging arrows, slashing at rebels who managed to breech the wall. Her stomach twisted with fear.
“Listen to you. You’ve spent too long with our enemy. Have you forgotten Owain so soon? Normans killed my brother!”
Dragging her attention back to Lew, she backed away from him in repulsion. “Nay. ’Tis not true. Owain and the others attacked Cardigan, not the other way around. But even if they had killed my husband in cold blood, ’twasn’t Warren’s hand that did it. I cannot stand aside and let you murder these innocent people.”
“I need you, Eleri. If you marry the Norman, your father will refuse to join our rebellion.” Lew stalked her, throwing back his shoulders with indignity. “I forbid you to aid them.”
His steel flashed menacingly from his outstretched arm. He would not dare strike his sister-in-law! Yet…his eyes were full of menace, bloodlust and greed.
She glanced between the slowly advancing prince and the wall beyond the abandoned belfry. She could run.
Faking a step to the side, she broke for the open field. Lew flung curses at her back, following, but she kept her gaze on the soldiers. A man sprang forth into the bailey, making a direct line for her and the causeway.
“Catch the princess!” Lew ordered his soldier.
She changed directions, darting left. The old siege belfry made a poor escape route, but it was the only one she had. When it came to climbing, she held the advantage, even though her dress slowed her down.
Reaching the battered tower, she sheathed her dagger and latched onto a foothold just as the first arrow struck the weathered timber.
Chapter Fifteen
Warren removed his sword from the dead man’s side after the sickening sound of his last breath and grimaced, wearying of the pointless killing. He descended the ladder leading down from the wall to the inner yard, wanting to survey the battle below. At least De Braose’s borrowed recruits had effectively surprised Lew’s men, giving Warren a much-needed advantage.
He paused to rub his blurring eyes when a woman’s voice called across the smoky field. His chest constricted. Mon Dieu! Please don’t let her be out here.
