In Love With A Warrior (Gunn Guardsman (Book 4))

by Griffin, Kara

  Emlyn.

  He could’ve been struck down where he stood when he heard her say her name. She was Llywelyn’s daughter, the very one Marshall wanted as wife. His sweet, vixen faerie. James marched away from the field as anger rode him all the way back to his tent. He reached it and unsheathed his sword, tossed it near his cot, and then threw himself woefully upon it.

  “Damnation.”

  She was destined to be the wife of the enemy and yet James wanted her, wanted her with such intensity that it sickened him. He had to put her out of his mind at the very soonest, at this very minute. But he knew it would be impossible.

  “James, why’d ye leave the field? We weren’t done. Had too much of that puny lad? I saw him take you down,” Colm said, and laughed. “Aye, we all wagered you’d win and damn ye, you lost us a few coins.”

  He could give a shit at their loss of coin. “If you’d been in my place, you would have lost too.” James wasn’t about to elaborate for he was in no mood for their jests.

  Kenneth joined them and heard his statement. “Why? Was he that hard to beat? You were at least a foot taller and much stronger. Was the lad that talented?”

  James shook his head. “Nay, but …” He closed his mouth knowing if he’d told them that the lad was a she, and that she was the faerie they’d seen at the loch, they’d tease him to no end. “I am not in a fighting mood this day.”

  His comrades had a good laugh over that statement.

  “Seems to me ye are,” Colm said. “For I haven’t seen ye this filled with ire since—”

  “Leave me be,” he said testily, and when they didn’t abate, James rose, and snatched his sword from the ground and decided to cool off. With heavy steps, he marched toward the loch. He hoped she’d be there. He wanted to see her and mayhap explain, but it wasn’t his place to tell the lass of her doomed future.

  James wasn’t one to go off alone, especially in a place he was unfamiliar with, but he wanted to calm down and reason his encounter with the lass. When he reached the water, he stripped and laid all his belongings by a large rock that sat next to the loch.

  He jumped in and floated to the bottom. The only sound he could hear was that of the waterfall and his swishes in the water. Alone, he swam around until he ran out of breath and when he reached the surface, he saw Colm standing by the bank.

  “James, are you all right?”

  “Aye. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Colm took his boots off and then his tartan and tunic, and jumped into the water with a good splash to show for his effort. “I was concerned that you got angry at our teasing. You’re not, are you?”

  “Nay. I didn’t want to hurt the lad and so I … I took it a wee bit easy on him.” If ever that was an untruth. He’d attacked her with zealous and she met him, thrust for thrust. James would be struck down by God if he didn’t say a quick penance for his falsehood. He hadn’t known she was a she until he spotted the tress of hair that had fallen from under her helmet. Even then he was unsure. It was the way her breasts pressed against his chest that struck him in awe.

  “That is well, but we’re here to train and should be as hard as we can on Llywelyn’s men. You should not hold back next time.”

  “I doubt there will be a next time,” he said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go against her in the future. For one thing, he would not put himself in such a position, and for another, he hoped she wouldn’t put herself in such a position. Then he groaned thinking of how her body felt above his. Her breasts were full and rounded even beneath the thin covering of her mail.

  “What’s wrong with ye?” Colm asked when he groaned again.

  “I, ah, pulled a muscle in my calf.”

  Colm laughed boisterously. “Aye? You’re getting old James. You might want to practice a little longer so you’re prepared. For we’re going to be fighting against the English and you know how wily they are.”

  He nodded but didn’t retort. All he could think of was Emlyn’s groin pressing against his, and his rod grew thick and heavy from the remembrance of it. This night he was sure to have absolutely no sleep whatsoever.

  When he returned to camp, Sean had made a light supper and his comrades sat around the fire. James took a hunk of bread and picked pieces from it, barely listening to their conversation.

  His eyes blurred with tiredness considering he’d slept barely a handful of hours since their departure from Sean’s holding. James closed his eyes and tried not to think of the vixen, but her face waved before his vision.

  “James?” Grey called him, and when he didn’t answer, he shouted his name.

  He opened his eyes slowly and nodded. “God Almighty, can a man not take a little rest?”

  His laird laughed. “Aye he can when he proves himself on the training field. What is wrong with you? I never seen ye lose to an opponent before.”

  “I say, James is losing his will,” Duff said, and tossed him a tartan. “Best cover up, lassie, and get a wee bit of sleep.”

  James tossed the tartan back to him with vigor. “I will not make excuses. I lost this day and that is that. I verily won’t on the morrow.” Truer words were never spoken, as James knew he’d be full of wrath the next day and any opponent would feel it with the force of his sword.

  “Cease, you’ll cause James’ temper and he’s had a trying day,” Sean said.

  “Cosh, that’s enough, all of you. I’m going to sleep.” James left the ground and went inside the tent, and lay upon his cot. He tossed and turned for a few minutes and thought of Muriel’s words on their last night together. Had the woman truly vexed him? For he certainly wanted Emlyn and was beguiled by her. Muriel’s words rang in his ears. He was already feeling the effects of her fervent speech.

  She will cause you nothing but heartache.

  Chapter Eight

  Emlyn tossed aside the covers and sat on the side of her bed. The exertion of the training the day before and that of the news her parents bespoke, exhausted her. She was surprised she was able to sleep what with the discussion she’d heard betwixt her parents. Try as she might, she couldn’t reason of any way to get her father and mother to change their minds. Emlyn wasn’t offended by her mother’s remarks, for she often gave her opinion of her.

  She considered begging her father until he gave in, which he usually did. But that tactic didn’t work on her mother. And in this, her mother was right. Only she would be able to handle such a man as Marshall, for at least she knew how to protect herself. Her sisters would not fare well. And she wouldn’t allow harm to come to them, especially if either of her sisters were sent in her stead. Guilt would rule her for the rest of her life. Still, she refused to give up hope, because something would come to her.

  When she’d joined her family for their morning fare, she noticed her parents looking at her oddly. She tried to disregard their gazes, and sat, pulling a bowl toward her. She started to fill it but lost her appetite.

  “All will leave and be about your day,” her father announced, “Except for you, Emlyn.”

  She stayed where she was and waited until he was ready to speak to her. Her father’s long face watched her, his staid eyes sad. Her father had dressed regally this day with his bright red cape. Beside his chair sat his favorite shield, the one with the large lion on its outer cover. His plain crown sat atop his covered head, and his jaw twitched and tightened.

  He was provoked about something, and she hoped and prayed that she wasn’t the cause. Yet she knew he’d been upset about Marshall’s treaty request. Was he really that concerned for her? Emlyn hated when her father was upset with her and she detested knowing she was the cause. She loved his attention and was thrilled when he’d shown pride in her.

  Her mother sat wearily next to him and finished eating without a word.

  “I fear, lass, that I’ve distressing news and I want to find out what you think of it.” Her father’s voice lowered and was deep with woe.

  “It matters not what the lass thinks, Llywelyn. We agreed. D
o not change your mind now.” Her mother set aside her trencher and looked pleadingly at him.

  “To end this feud with Marshall and England, we need to send you to him. It is the only way we can appease him for he asked for your hand. We will betroth you to him.”

  “I understand, Father. I will do as you wish.” Emlyn couldn’t believe her voice sounded so strong and appeasing. It took all her will not to yell out in reproach of his dictate.

  “There you see, Siwan, she’s agreed.”

  Her mother seemed mollified. “I shall gather many belongings for her travel. We will need at least a week to ready her, Llywelyn. You will be sent enriched, as if you are a princess, as is your station. You will not wear men’s garb from this day forward. Do you understand?”

  Emlyn only nodded and refrained from comment. Her tongue often got her in trouble and this day it’d do well to keep it tucked behind her teeth.

  “I will have a gown sent to your chamber this morn. You will wear it for the celebration this eve. I expect your compliance, Emlyn, for it is time to grow up and face the fact that you cannot run around the keep trying your hand at silly warfare. For you’re a woman and your place is to marry, bear heirs, and care for your husband. Is that not right, Llywelyn?”

  How many times had she heard that dictate? Emlyn lost count.

  Her father lowered his chin and kept his eyes on her. Emlyn thought he’d laugh, but he didn’t. “Aye, verily, my love. And your mother does her duty well, as will you, sweet Emlyn.”

  “You dare jest about this? I will not have my daughter sent to our enemy in serf’s attire. She will be laden with comforts and Marshall will know her wealth.”

  “I vow he already knows,” her father said with a bang to his cup.

  Her mother scoffed at her father, knowing he teased her. She got up and haughtily made off.

  Emlyn wouldn’t move until her father dismissed her. If there was one thing that irked him, it was when someone dismissed him. No one ever did, and so she sat there awaiting him to allow her to leave. He didn’t appear to want to do so.

  Her father turned and peered at the steps, where her mother had disappeared. When he turned back to her, he smiled.

  “Now that your mother is gone, come closer. I wish to say something to you, lass.”

  Emlyn scooted her chair closer. “Aye, Father.”

  “I wish not to send you to Marshall. We will pretend to do so, and let your mother believe her wishes were granted. I bid you to do whatever it takes not to allow the Scotsmen take you to Marshall. Just promise me, you won’t go to him.”

  Emlyn’s eyes widened. “But, Father, if I don’t, won’t that cause the war to escalate? I don’t want to be the cause of our demise.”

  Her father laughed. “Oh, my sweet child. You won’t be. I can handle Marshall’s attacks. I would rather he come and fight me than send you to him. The berserker would do you harm, lass. For I’ve heard that a traitor joined with Marshall. Verily he must have learned of your renown, because he asked for you by name. I fear he wants to use you and not in a kind way.”

  “What shall I do to thwart the Scots?” Emlyn couldn’t even deem to do what her father asked, but something would come to her.

  “Whatever it takes. Befriend one of them. Insist that he take you elsewhere. Give yourself to him. Promise him anything, because, lass, if you go to Marshall, you shall exist no more. And that is the last thing I want.”

  Emlyn’s heart seemed to stop beating. Her eyes didn’t leave her father’s and as she listened to his words, she blushed at his implication. “You wish me to give myself to one of them?”

  Her father patted her hand. “There is nothing to fear of what happens betwixt a man and a woman, sweet. Aye, if that is what it takes to gain his compliance, you should not give it thought.”

  She was sure her cheeks flamed with discomfiture, for this was not a subject one should discuss with one’s own father. And yet, all she could think of was the arrogant Scot who she fought on the field the day before.

  “I will do as you say, Father. I am gladdened that you feel this way, for I would’ve gone to Marshall if that was your wish. But this will suit me far better.”

  “Go, lass, and ready for the celebration. Make yourself beautiful and find a Scot who you can persuade to your bidding. I know you can do it.”

  “I won’t let you down, Father.” Emlyn nodded and hastened back to her chamber.

  Her mother was already there, clucking over her garments with a servant. “Oh, dearest, your clothing is deplorable. But don’t despair, for I have had Suzanna give you a gown to wear this eve.”

  Emlyn wasn’t fond of her sister’s garments, for they were always embellished and very beautiful. It wasn’t her taste at all. The gown chosen for her was crimson with gold clasps on the front. It was one of her plain gowns, and Emlyn considered her sister had given this one away willingly. But she was glad for her other garments were far too elaborate.

  Her mother shook out her velvet cape and hung it on a peg. “You should wear this over it, for it will likely be chilly this eve. The air has changed drastically today.”

  Emlyn hoped she’d leave, because she needed time alone to consider what her father bid of her. She began removing her garments and went to the wash bowl. But that wasn’t nearly enough to wash all of her. She donned her garments again and decided to go to the lake to wash.

  “I need to check on Aled and feed him. I’ll return soon.”

  “Don’t be gone too long. Be back in time to change for the celebration. You may want to consider giving that beast to your brother, Griffen, since you’ll be leaving.”

  Emlyn nodded and realized when she left she verily couldn’t take her hound with her. Besides, he would never leave Iola, his owl friend. She had a difficult parting coming, for she’d had her dog since he was a pup and saddened at the thought that she’d never see him again.

  She hastened to the stable and found him inside his stall. No one had let him out. She’d have to have a word with the stable lads about that.

  “Good morn, my handsome friend. Come out, come.” He wagged his long tail and slurped at her face with his long tongue. “Ewww, what have ye eaten? Your breath stinks to high-heaven. Did Iola kill another skunk for you? Well come along, we’ll both bathe in the lake.”

  As soon as they left the stables, Iola came screeching as if she was ireful that they were late. Emlyn walked toward the lake and her pets followed. When they neared, Aled took off and Iola flew after him, they disappeared within the trees. She knew how to be quiet, and when she’d heard voices, she stepped carefully near the water.

  There he is.

  She watched the warrior she’d fought with, swimming in the water with a few others. Her breath caught in her throat as his stealthy body cut through the water, when he raced against one of his comrades. Their laughter echoed around them.

  His chest was muscular and his abdomen rippled all the way to his lower hips. The water hid his body below his waist and her eyes roamed again, back to his face. Lord he was handsome.

  Emlyn waited for what seemed like an hour before they retreated from the water. The warrior’s bared arse faced her, and she almost laughed, for it was a sweet view. They didn’t bother to put on their garments as they walked away.

  After a good amount of time passed, she removed her attire and slid quietly into the water. She swam to the waterfall and moved behind it, knowing it afforded privacy. None could see behind it, so thick the streams from above.

  Men’s voices rose, and she peeked out and saw the warriors returned. The one she’d fought with had dressed and he picked something up from the ground, he must have left behind. His eyes fell on the waterfall and he watched it for a few minutes. She wished and dreamed that he was looking at her, but she knew he couldn’t see her.

  “James, come on, we’ll be late,” one of his comrades called. “Laird will have our arses.”

  He turned and left the lake.

  Emlyn had cho
sen the one she’d give herself to.

  James.

  *****

  The welcome feast was attended by all the Iorwerths. James sat with his comrades, along with Llywelyn and his closest friends at the chieftain’s table. Grey had brought several jugs of the brew they drank at certain celebrations. The liquid was strong enough to effectuate a fire, that, and cause a head to thump madly in abhorrence for a day or two after drinking it.

  In honor of Llywelyn’s hospitality, the jugs were passed around to their hosts first, but they declined to drink it. Not many took to the drink and only those with a strong stomach could handle the harshness. The Iorwerths were fond of wine which undoubtedly was less effective when it came to dulling the senses.

  James held his cup out and nodded when Grey filled it. He needed a drink after the last few days. Especially given their training session, the day before, and it was still fresh in his mind. He couldn’t cease thinking about Emlyn’s body and how she’d felt holding him on the ground. He lifted his cup and drank down the entire brew, taking all of it in a couple of gulps.

  “Ah, this is exactly what I need.” He held his cup out for more.

  “You sure, James? You’ll have a splitting headache in the morn,” Grey said.

  “I’m more concerned about now. Aye, fill it.” And when he only poured enough to fill half a cup, James motioned to him for more. “Don’t skimp.”

  Grey did as he bode and filled it to the top, and James drank the cup a wee bit slower. The drink was beginning to take effect and soon, he’d be able to put the lass from his mind. For he’d been unsuccessful so far.

  For as much as he wanted to remain alert, given where they were, James welcomed the inebriation. Besides, none of his comrades would allow harm to come to him and with that in mind, James had his cup refilled two more times.

  The revelry of the celebration rose and many danced around the fires. His comrades were in discussions with Llywelyn’s men, but he couldn’t hear any of it, and nor did he care. He watched as arrows were lit with fire and released to the air. The bright streaks lightened the ground beneath and all those around him. His eyes blurred, and he kept drinking. Warmth settled in his stomach and he began feeling the wondrous effect of the spirit. His limbs grew heavy and a sweet lethargic aura came over him.