James quailed irefully at his words. He’d commanded Emlyn to be with him? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but kept his expression from showing his indignation. “You have it. I give you my word, my lord.” James relaxed his hands and realized he hadn’t been brought before the lord for punishment or execution. Emlyn spoke the truth that her father had given her permission to thwart Marshall. He hadn’t believed her.
“I deem you might be the one to tame my sweet daughter, for none have been successful so far.” Llywelyn raised his cup and bowed his head before taking a drink.
“It will be a difficult task, my lord.”
Llywelyn laughed boisterously. “Aye, ye speak the truth in that. I want ye to know that you have my permission to wed her. I set in place now your betrothal. Here,” he said, and placed a heavy-laden sack on the table. “I believe this is enough of a bride price for her hand. Do you accept?”
James stared at Llywelyn and then at the pouch, disbelieving what he was asking. He was no fool. The amount of coin filling the sack was enough to pay a bride price three times over. The question that plagued him more was, was he wanting to wed her? But there was no time to deliberate it.
James slowly nodded. “Aye, my lord, I accept.”
“This night we will have a farewell feast. I would that your laird and his closest guardsmen attend. We will not speak of this betrothal or our agreement. For you must gain my sweet Emlyn’s hand on your own. I wish ye good fortune, young James, for ye shall need it in dealing with my fair Emlyn.” Llywelyn stood.
James rose from his chair. “I deem I’m going to need it too, my lord.”
“Protect her, love her, and bring her joy. And when ye can, forgive her for that eye you’re sporting.” The chieftain chuckled with a raised brow.
“I will do my best to do so, my lord.”
The chieftain slapped him on the back and strolled from the chamber.
James stood there for a few minutes in shock and dismay, for he wasn’t sure he could achieve all that the lord asked of him.
When James vacated the hall, he found Grey awaiting him on the steps of the keep. His laird casually leaned against the stone as if he had nothing better to occupy his time.
“What did he want?”
James imparted the request of the lord and by the time he finished, Grey was laughing his arse off.
“You find humor in this?” he asked irritably. “Here, you have more need of this than I.” He handed the sack of coin over and his laird whistled when his hand waned with the weight.
“It appears we will have a wedding celebration when we return home.” Grey slapped his back and ambled next to him, as they continued back to camp.
James mumbled a blasphemy. “Hell, what have I gotten myself into?”
Chapter Thirteen
“They’re waiting for you.”
Emlyn set the jeweled headpiece in place and turned at her sister’s call. She had never been in her sister’s good graces and she regretted not befriending her more often. Although her sister was only two years younger, they’d never had anything in common with which to discuss. Her sister was more the princess her mother wished for than she. Emlyn approached Suzanna and hugged her close. Already she dreaded the loss of her family and she hadn’t even left yet.
“What are you doing?” Suzanna asked, trying to pull from her embrace.
Emlyn continued to hold her. She petted her sister’s pretty blonde hair and looked into her clear blue yes. Her sister appeared as a princess should—lighthearted, beautiful, and nary any interest in pointy objects.
“I shall miss you, that’s all. I will likely never see you again and I want you to know how much I envy you.”
Suzanna scoffed. “You envy me? Why would you? You always have everyone’s attention. No one pays me any mind. I wish I had your brazenness.”
Emlyn resisted the tears gathering in her eyes. “Suzanna, you are everything a man wants in a wife. I shall never be coveted so.”
She pulled from her hold. “I wish I was as brave as you. You’re going off to wed our enemy and you aren’t even afraid are you?”
“I am. I can hide it better than others.” Emlyn grew somber knowing she was lying to her sister, but such fabrication needed to be done.
“Come. If we don’t join the festivities soon, Mother will send her guard. I heard what she did. Father was wrath when he learned of it. You should’ve seen his face. I don’t deem I’d ever seen him so ireful. If I had found out sooner, I would’ve come to help you.”
“See, you’re much braver than you think.” Emlyn pressed her hands over the green-blue silk of her gown. The garment was bejeweled at the elbows where the fabric slit, and at the bodice, where the golden overly of floral lace lay. Emlyn felt ridiculous wearing it, but she would go through with her plan to shock her mother. The gown widened at the sleeves and the material fanned out as it distended. She was more comfortable wearing armor.
“You look beautiful. Where did you get that gown?” Suzanna clasped her hand and pulled her from the chamber.
“Branwyn gave it to me, but I never wore it.” She pressed her lips together in remembrance of the day her friend swore she would never have a need for such a gown. Mayhap she would bring joy to Bran for wearing it.
Emlyn reached the bottom of the steps where her parents awaited. They stared at her and appeared to be in a stupor. She hoped they hadn’t already dipped their cups in the wine barrels as they had a habit of doing. It was going to be a long night.
No one spoke.
“Have I a tear?” She glanced down to make certain, but her gown was intact.
“Nay, you look beautiful, sweet, Emlyn.” Her father touched a curl that hung over her shoulder.
“I knew she could look thusly, like a princess should,” her mother remarked.
Inside the hall, many had assembled and when she entered, a cheer arose. Emlyn didn’t like having everyone’s attention solely on her and she kept her gaze averted. All stopped their speech, and the moment was filled with awkwardness. Her father stepped next to her, as did her mother.
She gazed around at those in the hall and saw James and his comrades on the far side. They stood with some of her father’s soldiers. She tried not to smile.
“My daughter, who would save us from our enemy.” Her mother waved a hand at her. “We celebrate her courage and wish her well on her journey to her betrothed.”
Her mother raised her arm and Emlyn pulled away. She disliked the fact that she was being dishonest with her mother and if she ever found out, she would never forgive her. As much as her mother frustrated her, she didn’t want her hatred.
Branwyn stepped forward and drew her away from her mother’s side, saving her from bearing such guilt. “You are beautiful. I cannot believe you wore the gown. I vow I would never appear as fetching as you in it.”
“I’m gladdened you gave it to me.” They moved farther into the great hall and Emlyn gave a scathing glare to Delyth. “Look, there’s Delyth. She told my mother where I hid. I shan’t speak to her for her treachery. It will take a long time for Delyth to gain my forgiveness.”
“You shouldn’t hold it against her, Em, for your mother can be daunting and we both know Delyth doesn’t have the wherewithal to speak false to your mother.”
“Nay, I suppose you are right.” Emlyn kept her gaze from her friend, wishing she could forgive her.
As the night continued, Emlyn tried not to appear happy, but knowing she would soon be in James’ company again—where she’d actually speak with him, brought her a sense of pleasure.
The feast was served and entertainments began. Candlelight glowed in every corner. The center table laden with foodstuffs, covered every inch, and greenery and floral drastically changed the hall from its usual foreboding mien. Her mother went to great lengths to make the feast rival any they’d ever had. In a way, Emlyn was honored by her mother’s gesture, but then again, she only did so for appearance’s sake.
H
ow could they celebrate, believing she was going to her demise? Had they no empathy at all? She kept her expression solemn for she didn’t want her mother to suspect anything. Still, the way her clan acted caused her abhorrence of their indifference.
Gifts were placed in front of her, but Emlyn wasn’t one for material possessions. She cared not for the furs, the ornate jewelry, and trinkets given to her by the closest clan members. Still, she thanked them for their supposed kindness. She compared their gifts to payment for her life, because if she were really going to Marshall—that’s what she’d be giving in return—her life.
As much as she tried to avoid James’ gaze, she couldn’t, and found herself following him with her eyes. Each time she looked at him, she caught him watching her in return. His beautiful eyes bore into hers, as if silently telling her all would be well. If only she could be alone with him and hear that from his lips, but soon enough.
“You’re a fortunate woman, Emlyn.”
She apprehensively dragged her eyes from James and peered at Branwyn. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m being forced to leave my home. All believe I’m sacrificing myself to save our people when I’m being deceitful. They deem I have honor when I have not.”
“Honor does not serve when you are dead.”
“Nay, it doesn’t indeed.” Emlyn sighed.
“Keep yourself safe. Promise me, for I shall worry and pray for you each day.”
“Use your prayers for something more significant, Bran.”
Branwyn wept and Emlyn flinched at the sorrowful sound, knowing she caused her friend’s dismay.
“Come now. As you said I am a fortunate woman. Look at him, Bran. He’s likely what every woman wants in a protector. He is honorable, strong, appealing in face and body. And until I figure out what’s to become of me … mine.”
Branwyn wiped her tears away and gave a small laugh at her jest. “I vow I have never heard you speak so of a man, not even of Bevan.”
Emlyn grew melancholy then for she hadn’t thought of her betrothed in many a day. How her life would differ if she’d married him. She would be allowed to remain on the land that had been home all of her life. She would be able to practice at using her weapons, and left alone by her mother. Emlyn wanted to cry herself as all the weight of what she was about to do suddenly bore down on her.
“I wish you could be here for my wedding, but alas I know we shall part. I will always hold our friendship with fondness.”
She gazed at her friend, and her words brought forth such melancholy. “I know Cranog will make you happy and that brings me contentment, for that’s all I want for you.”
“At first I was unsure, but now … I deem he will do for a husband. I’m gladdened he’s a farmer and not one of your father’s soldiers. I would not have accepted him if he were, because I would worry that he would … end as Bevan.”
She hugged Branwyn and knew she spoke from the heart. If any man was made for her friend, it was Cranog.
The rest of the night passed quickly and before she knew it, many had left. The Gunn guardsmen, along with her father’s favored soldiers caroused their way from the keep on to their tents and garrison. Their boisterous exit was amusing. That is until she saw James. He didn’t appear as jovial as his comrades. Emlyn turned her attention to her mother who stood by her side flapping in her ear about some such nonsense. When she turned back, he was gone.
Her brothers avoided her all evening and kept giving her looks. Emlyn decided to confront them now and get it over with. Her brothers, both born from different mothers, looked nothing alike. David resembled their father more than any of her siblings. Griffen, whose mother was mistress to her father, had his mother’s looks.
Emlyn’s mother didn’t berate her father for his mistress, and oftentimes, her mother remarked that she was grateful she’d been given a reprieve. She couldn’t understand how her mother could be so tolerate when she tended to be ardent on all other matters.
David and Griffen stood by the hearth, and now was the chance to speak with them alone. She slunk forward and cornered them, not giving them the opportunity to flee.
“You will not speak with me? You two have avoided me all night.”
David grimaced. “Our apologies, Emlyn. ‘Tis just … I’m not in agreement with Father. You know that. You shouldn’t be sacrificed. We should confront Marshall and defend our land. We’ve enough arms to take to war with him and I pledge my sword will meet his one day soon.”
How passionate her brother was when it came to war. She touched his arm in a soothing gesture. “Worry not, David, for you may get your wish.”
“I have something for you,” Griffen said, as he pulled a leather sheath from his tunic, and handed it to her. “Here.”
She held it and admired the workmanship of the leather. “What is it?” Emlyn pulled the item from inside. “I cannot accept it. It’s your favorite dagger.” She tried to hand it back to him, but he wouldn’t take it.
“Nay, I want you to have it. You may need it. If ye get the chance, you can put it where it belongs. In that braggart’s heart.”
“You mean Marshall.” Emlyn sheathed the dagger and her heart swelled for at least her brothers cared for her.
Griffen laughed. “Who else would I mean?”
“David’s?” She let forth a merry laugh. “Don’t look at me like that. I jest. Oh, I shall use it and am honored by your gesture. That reminds me, I will need someone to see to Aled. Will you?”
“That hound would rather be free. Why don’t you release him?”
“Nay, I cannot do that. He is not a wild dog. Please, promise you’ll see to his care?”
David laughed and shoved Griffen. “Better you than me. That hound always growls at me. He growls at all but you and Emlyn.”
Emlyn nodded. “I don’t deem he likes you much, David. I must to bed and shall see you in the morn?” She yawned and headed for the stairs at their nod.
Awaiting at the bottom steps stood Delyth. She walked toward her and her friend looked contrite with tears gathering in her eyes.
“Oh, Delyth.” She hugged her close.
“I am sorry, Emlyn. Please forgive me. Your mother forced me to tell her where you were. I tried not to, but you know how persuasive she can be.”
“That I do. Do not fret. I understand. And I cannot stay angry with you.”
To which Delyth cried harder and Emlyn did her best to console her.
In between sobs, she said, “You’re leaving and I shall miss you. Who will get Branwyn and I into trouble? We shall have no fun.”
“I shall miss you too. I must go. Come in the morn, before I leave and say farewell.” Emlyn had to get away before emotions got the better of her.
“I will.”
She waved and took the stairs. The entire farewell feast was emotional and exhausting. She wanted and needed her bed. Her sisters were already fast asleep when she entered. Anhard mumbled in her sleep as was her habit and it brought a smile to her. She’d miss her younger sister too, for she was much like her than Suzanna.
As much as she tried to be quiet, she banged the table and dropped the dagger Griffen had given her. She folded her gown and decided to take it with her, and placed it in the satchel that held her possessions.
Emlyn climbed into bed and closed her eyes. She’d get very little rest while traveling and needed to get as much sleep as she could. But she was too excited. Throughout the rest of the night she lay in a semi-conscious state, dreaming of what was to come.
Emlyn was awakened by Suzanna, who continuously shook her.
“They await you. ‘Tis well past morn. Father said to let you sleep. Your escort has readied all morn and disbanded their camp.” Suzanna stood by the window casement.
Emlyn stretched. “I am glad, for I didn’t think I’d sleep at all.”
“I can see soldiers. Mother is speaking with them, probably berating them for hefting your trunks without care onto the carts. She insists you ride in a carriage, the one she
came to Father in. Oh, and you should see the amount of trunks she is sending with you.”
“Does she not realize the terrain we’ll travel?” Emlyn grumbled under her breath. “I shall hurry before she drives them all daft. Please tell Father that I will be down presently.”
Suzanna nodded and left.
Emlyn pulled on her breeches, then a white tunic. She yanked her satchel from beneath the bedding and added her cloak. After tugging on her boots, she looked around the bedchamber and made sure she hadn’t left anything behind.
In a hastened step, she carried her satchel and ran down the stairs. Everyone waited for her outside. She exited the keep and approach her father.
He said nothing but gave a firm nod. When tears gathered in her eyes, he set a hand on her shoulder. “Warriors do not weep.”
“Thank you, Father, for reminding me. I shall try to send a missive …”
“Worry not, sweet Emlyn, you’re in good hands. Go with Gwydyon.”
Emlyn wrinkled her nose and scrunched her eyes, for her father would send her off with prayers of the warrior God of their ancestors. How like him. She clasped his hand, curtseyed, and started off to the stable.
Aled whined to be released. She could’ve wept with sorrow, for she loved her pet. “Go, my friend.” She watched him from the stable door, and smiled to herself when Iona came. The feathered beast’s wings spread wide as she soared above. The two went off toward the path that they usually took. “I wish ye a good life.”
Emlyn hurried and found the satchel her father had gifted her. Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened it to see what was inside. She gasped. A small bow stuck out from the end, and she pulled a bundle of arrows out. They were tied together. There was also a short sword and an ornate body of mail.
It was heavy when she lifted it, but she’d carry it, knowing she may have need of the items. Much more so than the trunks of possessions her mother had packed for her. When she returned to the keep, Laird Gunn approached and took her satchel. His eyes widened, but he didn’t remark at how heavy her satchel was. He handed it to James who sat upon the most beautiful horse she’d ever seen.
In Love With A Warrior (Gunn Guardsman (Book 4)) Page 12
