Bound to Her Blood Enemy

by Tora Williams

  Huw heard the grate of a key turning in the lock, then footsteps. He counted to a sufficiently high number to ensure the stable master was out of sight, then he scrambled to his feet. He had only one thought now, and that was to get back to Matilda. She was alone and in the dark and must be terrified he wouldn’t return.

  It struck him then, a visceral jolt. He would always be there for her, put her safety above all else. Much as he’d tried to deny it, he cared for her.

  He had to hold back a laugh, remembering the reason he’d given for his single state when she’d drugged him. It still held true. He had nothing to offer her but danger, lies, and secrets.

  Unless he won Coed Bedwen. Yes, he would fight for his birthright and lay this cursed blood feud to rest. Only then would he be a worthy husband for Matilda.

  As for his great-uncle’s words, he would ignore them. Surely with Matilda in his heart, he could overcome his self-doubt.

  ****

  The darkness pressed in on Matilda, clawing at her eyes, constricting her chest. When she heard the key turning in the lock, she had to press her hands to her mouth to prevent herself from crying out. With Huw here it had been bearable, but to be alone…locked in…

  She could try to feel her way to the tunnel. She shuddered. No. It had been bad enough with Huw and the candle to light their way.

  Whatever happens, stay there.

  Huw’s hissed command came back to her. But had he expected to be marched out of here? Had he been captured? She pushed aside one of the wool bales and then sank back. No. She had said she would try to trust him. And after all, if she had done as he’d asked and left when they’d first heard the footsteps, she wouldn’t be here alone now. She would wait and trust him to return.

  But trusting someone by daylight was one thing, quite another when it meant being smothered by thick darkness, while her mind dreamt up images of Huw, locked in the keep, being beaten. She strained her ears for signs he was coming back, but the blood pulsed in her ears, so she couldn’t tell if she was hearing noises from inside her head or out.

  With her arms hugged to her chest, she huddled into the soft fleeces, praying Huw wouldn’t let her down.

  A soft scratching made her sit bolt upright. It came again. A click. The lock turning. Then came a tread on the stone steps. She pressed a hand to her chest to ease the painful beat of her heart. Should she call out? But what if it wasn’t Huw?

  Then the ceiling reflected a faint glow.

  “Mallt?”

  She gave a sob and flung aside the bales. “Huw!” She scrambled to her feet and found herself swept into a secure embrace. “I was afraid you weren’t coming back.”

  “I’d never leave you alone, Mallt. You have to believe that.”

  “I know that now.” And she did. Her doubts faded to nothing. In her moment of fear, he hadn’t let her down. In all the time she’d known him, he had proved trustworthy. She had just been too foolish, too wrapped up in past fears, to see it.

  Still trembling from the terror of the dark, she needed his comfort. Craved the reassurance that only his body could give her. She pulled his head down and captured his mouth in a searing kiss.

  He groaned and walked her backward until the back of her knees caught on a bale and they tumbled down on top of it, Huw’s weight pressing her deep into the fleece. She ran her hands across his shoulders and down his back, relishing the feel of firm flesh. At the same time, Huw’s roving hand trailed fire across her body. When he brushed the side of her breast, she shamelessly shifted molding her breast to his palm.

  With a groan, Huw tugged the neck of her gown open and freed a breast from the confines of her shift. Then he lowered his mouth, taking her nipple between his lips, flicking the sensitive tip with his tongue.

  Matilda moaned, arching up as sparks of intense pleasure coursed through her, leaving every inch of her flesh sensitized, longing for his touch.

  Huw lifted his mouth and cursed. “Heaven help me, Mallt. If you want me to stop, say so now.”

  “Don’t stop. I need you. I—”

  But she was cut off by another demanding kiss.

  With so little light, her other senses were heightened. When Huw stripped off her tunic and shift, she lay back on the fleece, relishing its caress on her back and thighs. Just the sound of Huw’s clothes falling to the floor inflamed her, as she imagined the hard, muscular body that was being revealed. Then the bale shifted, and a hot tongue trailed down her stomach to swirl around her navel. She whimpered, muscles deep within clenching with longing as the tongue trailed lower.

  Soon she was intoxicated by the slide of flesh upon flesh, the rasp of his stubble, his long fingers stroking and teasing her to the peak of pleasure. Then she gasped when he wedged himself between her thighs. Her desire for him overcame her fear of the pain to come; she arched toward him, sliding her hands down his back, pulling him closer.

  Then he was inside her, stretching and filling.

  She bit back a cry at the discomfort, but he must have sensed her pain for he eased back.

  “Should I stop, Mallt?”

  “No, oh no!” She tilted her hips, desperate for more. Desperate to show how much she trusted him. Needed him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper.

  He eased in until he was fully inside her. She felt impossibly stretched, yet along with the discomfort came a deep joy at knowing she was now joined with Huw in more than just name.

  She whispered the one thought that overpowered all the rest. “Huw!”

  As though he had been waiting for it, he withdrew and thrust in again. With each thrust the discomfort eased and the pleasure intensified until she lost all thought of where they were. All she knew was this moment. Flesh on flesh. Huw.

  The coil of pleasure in her belly tightened until she thought she couldn’t bear any more of this exquisite torture.

  Then she arched up against him as she shattered into a thousand pieces, sobbing his name over and over like a litany as she tumbled into rapture. Huw gasped her name in her ear, and she felt him tense in her arms then lie still.

  She didn’t know how long they lay there, his weight on hers, heartbeats thundering, while their breathing slowed. Gradually she became aware of her surroundings—the scent of candle wax, the tickle of the wool, the chill draught on her damp flesh.

  Huw stirred and eased himself off her. “Did I hurt you, Mallt?”

  “No.” She shifted and winced. “Well, maybe I’m a little sore.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have waited.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize. I wanted it…needed you. I was so frightened all on my own in the dark. I thought you’d been captured. And then you came back.” A half sob caught in her throat. “I never thought I could need you so much. It overwhelmed me.”

  “I wouldn’t have left you there. Even if I’d been caught, I’d have found a way to escape and come back for you. I’ll always be there for you.”

  I’ll always be there for you.

  Again, those words sounding a dim warning in the back of her mind, but she ignored it. Huw had been there when she had needed him. He had proven he could be trusted. Hope swelled in her chest, and she leaned over him and kissed him, pouring all her gratitude and tenderness into the act.

  “What was that for?” Huw asked with a soft laugh when she pulled away.

  “To thank you. For being there for me and allowing me to finally believe we might have a happy future together.”

  For the first time she allowed herself to imagine living in Coed Bedwen with Huw, not in a state of permanent mistrust and fear, but as a couple, meeting the challenges of running the castle together, sharing the frustrations and joys. A couple like her uncle and aunt, who were besotted with each other after years of marriage.

  She caught her breath. Was she in love with Huw?

  She didn’t know. She had no idea what love felt like. But after years of being afraid of love, of fearing the weakness and dependence it brought, she wasn
’t afraid any more.

  ****

  Huw felt a burst of warmth in his chest. Their lovemaking had silenced his malicious inner voice. Making love to Matilda, hearing her soft gasps of pleasure, feeling her body tighten around him in ecstasy, had made him believe that his oath had lost its grip on him.

  “Thank you,” he said. “For taking a risk in me. For trusting me when I know you have every reason to mistrust me.”

  He kissed her again, then sat up with a regretful sigh. “As much as I want to stay here, we mustn’t risk being caught. We have to investigate this tunnel and get back to the great hall before it gets light.”

  He pulled on his clothes, invigorated by a new purpose. Now he wasn’t fighting for himself, but for their shared future.

  And maybe…just maybe…giving his heart to Matilda would silence that nagging inner voice for good.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When they reached the steps, Huw took Matilda’s hand. “Hold tight. These are steep.”

  He still wasn’t happy to have Matilda here in Coed Bedwen, but now it was nothing to do with anger at her Comyn blood. It was all to do with fearing for her safety. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight for one moment, but of course it wasn’t possible for them to stay together at all times. It made him more determined to finish their mission in the shortest possible time.

  In the meantime, he had to admit it felt good to hold Matilda’s hand. His skin still felt sensitized after their lovemaking. His entire body was achingly aware of her. The air crackled between them like sparks of lightning.

  “You’re very quiet, Huw.” Matilda’s voice echoed down the rocky passage. “You don’t regret what we’ve done, do you?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “No.” She stumbled on an uneven step. Huw tightened his grip on her hand and steadied her. She gave a soft laugh. “Although perhaps it’s affected my concentration.”

  It came as an unpleasant jolt to Huw to realize he had been so focused on Matilda that he had no idea how far they had walked. “You’re not the only one.” He drew a deep breath. “We must make more of an effort to concentrate, before we make a slip that could give us away.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know about a tunnel when I lived here,” said Matilda, making a visible effort to study the rough stone walls. It was gratifying that she should take his orders to heart.

  “You were very young. Maybe your parents didn’t want you to know in case you took it into your head to explore.”

  “Possibly.”

  There was another pause while they negotiated a particularly steep section, then she said, “What do you think that man was doing here?”

  “The stable master? I hope to find out in a moment. I suspect it was clandestine. He wanted me to keep his presence secret in return for him not reporting me.”

  “But what—?”

  “Hush! We’re nearly at the bottom. I can see stars.”

  The steps finally ended, and the tunnel opened upon a blackthorn thicket. When Huw leaned out, he caught the sound of running water. His pulse quickened. It looked like they had stumbled upon an alternative route into the castle. This could be the key to winning back the castle.

  “Are we down by the river?” Matilda asked.

  “It looks like it.” Huw pushed aside the bushes and stepped out. “Yes. We’re still a little way above it, but the cliff isn’t so steep here. It would be a scramble, but not impossible to get down to the river. We can’t be far from the ford, either. Wait here. I’m going to find out exactly where this leads.”

  He scrambled down the cliff, finding plenty of footholds to make it down to the river bank with ease. He glanced up to the top of the cliff and saw that whether by chance or design, this section of the bank was out of sight from the keep and the walls. Lower down, the bank was lined with trees, which would provide cover and allow someone to reach the village without being seen.

  That was all he wanted to know. He was about to climb back up to Matilda, when he noticed footprints and trampled grass a few paces from where he was standing. He crouched to examine them briefly, then he returned to Matilda where he reported what he had found.

  “Can we bring Owain’s men into the castle this way?” she asked, her eyes shining.

  “We couldn’t get a whole army in unseen, but a handful, certainly. One more thing. I saw a mass of footprints down there. At least three men were there recently. I rather think our stable master was meeting some men from the village. Or possibly farther afield. Men he didn’t want to be seen with.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I can’t be sure, but maybe our job has just been made easier.”

  “In what way?”

  “It’s possible there’s already a group of disaffected men waiting for the right time to act.”

  “And you think you can persuade them now is the right time?”

  Huw grinned. “We can try.”

  ****

  As Huw staggered into the stable yard the next morning, he pulled his hood farther over his eyes to shade them and groaned, clapping his palms to his temples. Getting the information he needed required him to play a convincing hang-over sufferer. He did his best to throw off the memory of last night’s lovemaking, no matter how much it still clung to him. He needed to look pale and haggard, not glowing with remembered pleasure.

  A hand slapped him on the shoulder. “Regretting last night?” He turned and blinked up at the stable master, whose jovial smile failed to conceal a certain tension in his jaw.

  “If only I knew what I was supposed to regret,” he said.

  He studied the stable master carefully. There was a secret here, and he and Matilda had decided last night that finding it out was a necessary next step.

  The lines around the stable master’s mouth and eyes eased. “Don’t you remember anything about last night?”

  “The last thing I remember is playing dice with some fellows and sharing a jug of ale. The next thing, I’m lying outside the keep and the stars are fading.”

  “The keep? It’s a good thing you woke up before anyone found you.” The stable master pulled him through the door. “It’s no use setting you to exercising the horses this morning. You’d better stay inside and clean the tack.”

  Huw doubted this was for his benefit so much as to let the stable master keep an eye on him in case he recovered his lost memory. It was what he had hoped for. It gave him a chance to draw him out and see if his suspicions were correct.

  The stable master pointed him to the far wall, where all the tack hung from hooks. “Start with that. And stay in here until your head clears. You wouldn’t want Fitzjohn to catch sight of you in this state.”

  “Why?” asked Huw, “Is he likely to punish me? I’d have thought I was beneath his notice.”

  “There’s no knowing what he’d do. He’s got a violent temper, so I’d avoid him, if I were you.”

  “Thanks,” said Huw. “I’ll bear that in mind. I come from farther west, so I’d not heard of him till I arrived here.”

  Huw scrubbed at a bridle in silence for a while, while the stable master examined the hoof of a gelding in one of the stalls. Presently he came out and leaned against a post.

  “You say you come from farther west?”

  Huw nodded, buffing a buckle with a soft rag until it gleamed.

  “What brings you to Coed Bedwen?”

  Huw repeated the tale he and Matilda had agreed. He finished by saying, “My wife and I thought it would be easier to find work in the Marches. Norman households employ more people than Welsh ones.”

  “Maybe, but the Marcher lords can be cruel masters, Fitzjohn in particular.”

  Huw’s interest pricked. This was where he had been hoping the conversation would lead. However, he had to move carefully. The stable master might have a genuine grievance with Fitzjohn; on the other hand, it might be a trap, a test of Huw’s loyalty.

&n
bsp; “I’m surprised to hear you say that,” he said. “Cruel or not, Fitzjohn is the man who pays, feeds, and shelters you.”

  “Of course, of course. It would be wrong to speak against him. I’m not doing that, you understand.”

  Huw scrubbed at a spot of rust, pretending to be engrossed in his task, but he shot a sideways glance at the stable master. The man had a sheen of sweat on his upper lip, and a flush highlighted his cheekbones. However good an actor he might be, those symptoms were impossible to fake. Huw was as sure as he could be that he was not laying a snare. Which meant whatever activity he was engaged in, it was without the knowledge of his superiors and very likely working against them.

  Interesting. Yet the stable master had the air of a man out of his depth. If that was the case, Huw needed to find out what was going on so their activities didn’t clash. And if there was a group of rebels lacking a strong leader, Huw intended to fill that gap.

  “I didn’t think you were speaking against them,” Huw said to reassure the man. “After all, you are English.”

  “English, yes. Not Norman.” The stable master’s face twisted as though he were about to spit. He lacked experience, or he wouldn’t have allowed himself to be goaded like that.

  “What’s the difference? It’s all the same to the Welsh.”

  “I’m a Saxon. We were here long before the Normans took our land. I’m not saying all the Normans are bad, mind you. Most of them are just trying to live a decent life, same as we all are. I was a groom here in William Comyn’s time.”

  “Was he the lord here before Fitzjohn?”

  “Yes. He was a fair lord,” the stable master replied, “I’ll grant him that, even though it did break my heart, the way he ended things. And he with a young daughter.”

  “Why? How did he end things?” Huw’s grip on the buckle tightened, causing the sharp iron to dig a painful groove in his palm.

  “He lost all interest in life after his wife died, even in his daughter—sweet little thing she was, too. He died not long after. Folk say he drank himself to death, but I know the truth.”

  “What’s that?” Could this be what Alys had nearly let slip? Whatever it was, Matilda hadn’t wanted him to know. This could be the key to her mistrust of men. Even though things were improving between them, if he learnt the truth about her father, he might be able to help her.