“I, ah, I’m sorry. I was busy.”
Delyth followed Branwyn inside and they sat at the small table they often occupied as young lasses when her grandfather entertained them. Emlyn had brought them to the chamber many times throughout their childhood and even when they’d become older. It was the only place besides the lake, they could hide. None knew her grandfather had given her the key and no one would dare enter his domain, even after he’d died. Their clan considered it sacred ground.
“What happened to you last eve? You left the celebration and I couldn’t find you. I worried.”
“I’m sorry, Bran, but I had to … I should tell you of what my father bespoke.” Emlyn needed to explain, especially to Branwyn, since she was going to be leaving regardless of whether James cooperated with her or not. “My father betrothed me to his enemy, Marshall. I’m to leave soon.”
“Surely you jest. Tell me you do.”
“Oh, Emlyn, I feared something dreadful would come of this. If only Bevan hadn’t …” Delyth’s words trailed off when Branwyn gave her a scowl.
“Aye, and my mother is readying even now for my departure. I don’t have much time before I’m to leave.”
Branwyn moved from her chair and hugged her. “I’m sorry, Emlyn. Are you afraid? I would be. Marshall is known to be brutal. We’ve all heard the stories and after what happened at the last peace-keeping gathering … I will worry so for you.”
She hugged her friend in return. “I would be afeared, except … My father told me not to go to him, to thwart the betrothal, against my mother’s wishes.”
Delyth gasped. “Aye? He coverts war then? I disbelieve he would be so blatant to tell you to do so. Does he not care that we’ll be besieged?”
Emlyn shook her head. “I doubt Marshall will come this far south. The keeps he covets are closer to his lands and farther inland. My father wants to fight his enemy, wants him to come. I would be harmed either way, Delyth. He does not want me in the hands of Marshall and told me to beg one of the Scots to take me away.”
“He did? I vow this is shocking news. Have you found someone to?” Branwyn took her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Is that where you were last eve?”
“Aye. I did find someone and thought … I considered he would do as he promised, but I fear he won’t. He says he won’t cause a war. But we’ll to war regardless so …” She sighed. “I even gave myself to him as my father bid to sway him but he—”
“You what? Verily?” Branwyn pulled her hand away. “I am shocked, nay, distraught. Are you well? Did he harm you? Which Scot was it?”
She pulled her feet onto the chair and hugged her knees. “He didn’t hurt me and it wasn’t … unpleasant. It wasn’t my first time. You see I … with Bevan, before he left on his last mission.” Emlyn couldn’t stand to see the looks on their faces and kept her eyes averted and on the table.
“I want to hear every detail,” Delyth said.
Branwyn rose and walked around the table. “I knew it. I am gladdened he had that time with you before he … Still, you gave yourself to the Scot? You have more courage than I. Which one was it? It wasn’t their leader, was it? I deem he’s handsome, but too stern looking for my liking.”
Emlyn could’ve laughed at their discussion, but resisted because she knew it would upset her friends. “Did you watch the training the other day? It was the Scot who I went against in the last round, the one that—”
Delyth gasped. “Him! Why he’s even more stern looking than their leader. At least his face is hairless.” She giggled.
Branwyn scoffed and flopped back into her chair. “Oh aye, we watched all right. Delyth pointed out which of them she’d take to her bed, as if she’d ever. I deem she pointed to him because of his hairless face. You’re such a sguthan, Delyth, aye, a stupid woman, for you don’t have the courage.”
“Leave her be. Aye, it was he and I vow I never imagined such an encounter. But he is not willing to take me with him as my father bid. I must find another.”
“Such a shame, he won’t comply. He is dreamy.” Branwyn punched her arm. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”
“It doesn’t matter now, because I have to find someone else. I cannot go to Marshall.” The problem with that was Emlyn didn’t want anyone else. She wanted the warrior, James.
“Come, we should return,” Branwyn said, and rose, taking her arm.
“I am not returning. I will stay here until I figure out a way out of this. If anyone asks after me, especially my mother … you didn’t see me.” Emlyn gently released her friend’s grasp.
“Your mother will send a search,” Delyth said.
“Aye and she won’t find me, now will she? I need time to think and I can’t do that with her screeching at me every five minutes about my wardrobe. For who cares what I wear? I vow I shan’t wear it for long if I go to Marshall. Nay, I’ll be well here and will return to the keep when I’m ready to face this.”
Branwyn knelt next to her. “Will you be all right being alone? This place scares me.”
“I shall be well. I promise. Worry not.” Emlyn hugged her dearest friend in gratitude for her concern.
“I will bring you food this eve. We’ll keep your secret. I do hope you’ll think of something, Emlyn, for you must.”
“I will try, but it appears there is no other recourse. Do not worry for me. Promise me?”
They nodded their agreement and Emlyn walked them to the door, and she peeked out before letting them leave. She waved to them and closed the door.
Emlyn looked around the ancient abode and found a few items to burn in the hearth for warmth. She found an old tomb written in a language unknown to her. It belonged to her grandfather. Holding it against her chest, she sighed. How she missed his sound guidance and wished he were there at that moment.
His belongings scattered the cavern, and she found one of his old tartans. She shook it out and set it around her shoulders to ward off the chill. Several bottles held liquid and were labeled, but again she couldn’t understand what had been written. Except for the one container that read: Pair Dadeni water. Emlyn took the satchel that held a few of her weapons and added it to it.
If something happened to her, if she was injured, she’d at least have a way to heal herself. The lake was reputed to be healing and with her impending departure, and unknown future, she just might have need of it.
Aled whined at the door. His cry indicated he wanted out and he scratched the wood.
“Come along, handsome lad. We’ll go and swim a bit before night comes.”
Emlyn chased after her hound, and Iona flapped her wings happily above them. Moments like this brought joy to her heart, for she wished she could always be as free. When she neared the lake, she pulled her sword free, to keep it at her side, should she need it. With so many strangers in the area, many of whom were the Scots soldiers, she ensured her protection.
Aled and Iona played by the water’s edge, and Emlyn decided to cool off. She removed all her garments, but the thin shift she wore under her tunic. She slid into the water and lost track of time. Dusk darkened the surrounding area and stars appeared in the sky. Emlyn lay back and freed her thoughts, for she didn’t want to consider her hefty problems. It was too fine a night to be filled with despair.
Her hound growled and before she stood to see what bothered him, he set off and was attacking something. Emlyn quickly left the water and hastened to him. James lay on the ground with Aled’s teeth on his leg.
“Down. Cease. Be off.” Emlyn grabbed at the scruff of hair at her hound’s neck and Aled released his prey. He whined when she pushed her hound away and she knelt beside James. “I’m sorry, he meant no harm. He was only protecting me.”
“I knew I’d find you here.” James rubbed his leg and grinned at her.
“You came.” She hadn’t meant to sound astounded, but her words rushed forth.
James sat up and leaned toward her. “I had to. I am remorseful for what happened last eve, though
I am certain I enjoyed it. Did I?”
Emlyn laughed. “If you have to ask … I would say you did not. You have nothing to be remorseful for, James.”
He lowered his gaze. “I’ve never acted so foolhardy afore and I am sorry. If a babe comes, you’ll tell me? I am not one to be careless of such matters.”
She touched his arm in a soothing gesture. “Do not regret it, for I don’t. If a babe comes, I will tell ye, but worry not.” Emlyn grew morose at the subject of a child, because she’d not thought of that. But she’d deal with that problem when and if she needed to.
“You would not face that alone.” His words softened her heart.
“I am sorry I struck ye. Does your eye hurt?” She looked at the darkened rim under his eye and flinched.
“A wee bit. As much as I want to do as you ask, you know I cannot.”
“What if I told you I have my father’s permission to thwart Marshall? He bid me not to go to him. Would you accept then?”
James shook his head. “You ask me to go against my laird and my king. I cannot do either. I must uphold my duty and I won’t be dissuaded from it regardless of what I want.”
“Will you at least kiss me once before I go?” She leaned close to him, hopeful he’d do as she asked. Emlyn rejoiced when he conceded and his lips crushed against hers. His hands surrounded her and he gently forced her back until she lay next to him. She delighted at the way his body pressed against her and at his forceful nature.
How did he do it? He easily distracted her with the way his mouth moved over hers. Emlyn was caught up in kissing him, so much so, that she hadn’t realized his hands moved beneath her shift. His caresses brought forth an eager moan when his roughened hands cupped her breasts. As much as she wanted him, she couldn’t allow him such liberty when he wouldn’t compromise and do her will. She pulled away.
“You will not concede?”
James’ breath hitched. He scowled and kept a hand fastened on her shoulder. “I would give anything to have you again, lovely, but I am bound by my pledge to protect my laird. Nay I cannot concede.”
Emlyn touched his face and let her fingers trail the hardness of his jaw. She palmed his smooth cheek and nodded. “I deem you have honor about you, but it does not aid me. Farewell, sweet James.”
Before he said another word, Emlyn snatched up her belongings by the rock, whistled for her hound and trotted off.
Chapter Ten
James never felt so wretched in his entire life. When Emlyn walked away from him at the waterfall last eve, she’d taken his heart with her. He’d gone to apologize and even though the lass allowed him to explain, he still felt horrible about the circumstances. He couldn’t concede to her will. Throughout the entire night his guilt gnawed at him. He was torn between duty and honoring her wishes.
The day began with his ire when his laird awoke them early and sent them to their training session near dawn. On the field, he searched for Emlyn, and many of the Iorwerth men hadn’t yet joined in the practices. James continued to meet with Iorwerth’s soldiers, taking his time to ensure his sword methods were spot on.
A rest was called by the chieftain’s son and when James glanced at him, he noticed Emlyn standing next to her brother. She had been on the field. A grin came because he was gladdened to see her even if he was dismayed at the thought that she went against other men with arms.
Grey held a council and was discussing something to which James wasn’t really listening. He kept his gaze on Emlyn and lost sight of her as she moved within a group of soldiers. As soon as the sessions were called again, he tried to find her in the crowd.
Sean walked beside him. “Are you looking for an opponent? For I vow I’ve never seen such a dark look from you, James. How many have ye fought against this day?”
He shook his head and as he hastened his steps, he saw her. She had a sword in hand and combatted against one of her father’s men. The man had to be at least a foot taller than she. Llywelyn stood in the crowd watching her too, and James regarded her father. Who would let their daughter take to arms? His stomach wrenched at seeing her fighting so vigorously. Those within her clan cheered and the fight became intense.
His breath all but ceased when the attacker almost skewered her with his sword. James grew tense watching the fray. Every muscle in his body flinched at her adversary’s attack.
The Iorwerth chieftain shoved a man toward Emlyn and her opponent. She now fought against two warriors. James lost his breath completely as he watched her catch another sword thrown to her by her father. What was wrong with the man? Had he no sense or was he maddened?
Emlyn swung about and met her one opponent and then turned to meet the other. James stood rigid and Sean shoved him forward.
“Come, we need to find our own opponents.”
But James wouldn’t move. “Nay. Look at her, Sean. She’s going to be killed. Her father cares not.” He couldn’t take his eyes from the melee and each time her opponents’ swords met hers, his heart ceased beating.
“What’s wrong with you? Is that not the lad you fought with?” Sean stepped next to him and watched the fray with him.
“Nay, she’s no lad. ‘Tis my lass, the lass I was with the night of the celebration. She’s brave, I’ll give her that.” James winced when one of her combatants battled her sword and the other came at her back. She would be taken down, and he tried to avert his eyes. What he really wanted to do was run into the fray and protect his lady, but he resisted his desire.
“You mean that lad is the one we found in your bed?” Sean’s voice rose to astonishment and when James didn’t answer he shouted an explanative.
James finally nodded and found his breath again when she was able to defeat the man coming at her back. She backed and lowered her sword, and turned to her father.
“Enough. I cannot continue,” she said, her chest rising from her exertion. Her lovely face appeared dejected.
James wanted to thrash her father, for he nodded firmly and turned to walk away. He’d never seen a lass appear so crestfallen. Emlyn strode away with her gaze at the ground, and he lost her in the crowd.
The leader of the field called an end to the practice for the day, and James walked beside Sean silently furious for what he’d just witnessed. They reached the encampment, and he tossed his sword near his cot, and took out an arrow, to set about whittling it. He needed something to calm himself, and joined his friends for their evening fare. Around the fire, he sat with his comrades, content with his chore which kept his thoughts at bay.
“I’m to attend another meeting with Llywelyn this eve. He’s to give me his decision. James, I would that …” Grey gave him an inquisitive gaze, but turned and motioned to Duff. “Duff, I’ll need you to come with me.”
James sat by the fire, and had finished off his arrow. He used a stick to jab at the frail glowing logs. He was gladdened he didn’t have to go because he didn’t wish to be in Emlyn’s father’s company when he gave his approval. Especially after what he’d done and given what he’d witnessed this day. The man treatment of his daughter affected him, and James wished he could retaliate in her honor.
James tried not to think about the previous night and the kiss they’d shared. He was beset with tension, sexual, and otherwise. At that moment, he wished to shrivel away. For one thing, he couldn’t believe he’d taken the lass to his bed—actually she’d come to his bed. For another, he promised her something he verily couldn’t concede to. He would not be the cause of a war no matter what the lass asked of him.
And yet his gut sat like a boulder inside him, for he didn’t want to have to take her to Marshall. He was in a complete conundrum. With all that, his head still hurt from the drink and he couldn’t eat a thing. He was in a mood, one not likened by his comrades.
“Look at him. Such a sorrowful sight. He deserved that punch. Does your wee eye still hurt, laddie?” Colm asked, teasingly.
He growled under his breath, and had taken their jests all day. “Aye it hurts
like hell and deservedly so.”
“Never seen an eye swell akin to that. You might want to put something on it.” Kenneth dunked a cloth in a bucket of water that Angus had delivered a short while ago. “Here, use this,” he said, and tossed it to him.
James tossed it back with as much force. “It doesn’t hurt that much. It’s starting to feel better.”
Sean lay on his side and tossed a rock at the fire pit. “James, you know you can’t have her? I mean, she’s the very lass we’re to take to Iorwerth’s enemy. When I realized who she was I could’ve punched you myself.”
“Och, I realize that,” he said with as much indignation as he felt.
Kenneth set a hand on his shoulder. “How could you? This is unlike you, James. Of all of us, you are the most gallant.”
He scoffed for that was not what he wished to be known as. “Not any longer. But she came to me and I didn’t know … I was drunk for God’s sake and … Still, it is my fault.” No matter what he said would not change the past, and James would eat crow before he’d blame her.
“Damned right it is,” Sean said.
“I shouldn’t have done what I did, but my head was spinning and I didn’t realize what I was doing. The lass wants me to take her away. I told her I wouldn’t.”
“Is that why she punched you?” Colm asked, laughing.
“Aye. She walloped me good when I rejected her. No matter what the lass wants, I cannot go against Grey and our king. We will do as we’re bid.” Why that bothered him to no end, James couldn’t reason. He didn’t like the sense of being unsettled, nor the fact that he’d hand over the sweet lass to her father’s hated enemy. How he wished he were anywhere else but where he was. He’d even suffer at being a farmer as his father willed. At this very moment, he could be trudging a field, scooping manure or digging peat from a bog.
“You’re astute in that, at least. If Iorwerth agrees to betroth her to Marshall, we’ll have no choice but to take her to him. You won’t interfere, will you, James?” Sean sat cross legged and pitched another rock at the fire.
In Love With A Warrior (Gunn Guardsman (Book 4)) Page 9
