Lord of Hearts

by Gillgannon, Mary

“What else am I? Forced to live in the lair of my enemy?” She saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. Remembering her earlier fears that he might lock her away, she decided she must guard her tongue better. “I’m restless, and ’tis a pleasant day. I thought I would go to the garden and sit in the sunshine.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Marared followed him down the stairway. Surely he could not desire to spend time in her company. He must have some other motivation for accompanying her. What was it?

  This man baffled her. He wasn’t anything like what she expected. It unsettled her that he was so subtle and mysterious. Such qualities made him a dangerous opponent.

  *

  When would she ever stop treating him like a predator about to pounce on her? Gerard tried to relax as he made his way down the stairs. His wife’s behavior was exasperating.

  But despite her hostility, he’d thought about her all morning. In fact, he’d gone to the solar to tell her he wanted her to sit beside him at the evening meal in the hall. If he forced her to share his company, maybe she would gradually thaw toward him. Besides, even if he could not possess her body, he wanted the pleasure of looking upon her beauty and having her near. In some ways it was torture, but there was still satisfaction in knowing she was his.

  As they left the castle and crossed the bailey, he said, “Now that you’ve seen more of it, what think you of Tangwyl?”

  She shrugged. “It appears to take a great many people to run the place. There’s so much work to be done. Like those poor women in the weaving shed who must toil all day long on the looms.”

  He heard the resentment in her voice. She pitied the people of Tangwyl, viewing them as little better than slaves. “They would toil just as hard, and have much harsher lives, if I did not provide them with food for their families in exchange for producing cloth for me. Tangwyl offers them a way to earn a livelihood. It also provides them with protection when the Welsh come raiding.”

  “Was that not the point of this marriage—to stop the raids?”

  “Even so, who knows how long the agreement will last?”

  “You doubt my father’s word?”

  “There are other Welsh chieftains besides your father, and they may not accept the truce simply because he does.” He paused before adding, “Besides, there are certain aspects of the agreement that have not yet been fulfilled.”

  “If you have a complaint, take it to my father!”

  “I’d rather not. I’d much prefer to come to some sort of agreement with you.”

  She stopped walking and faced him, her hands on her hips. “Did you come along to browbeat and coerce me?”

  “Of course not.” He spoke through gritted teeth. Damn this difficult woman!

  She started walking again and he followed. She might be the most vexing woman in Christendom, but she was also one of the most entrancing. Her anger only heightened her allure, making her eyes glow, her fair skin flush, her whole countenance take on a dangerous, intoxicating beauty.

  She reached the garden gate and went in. Gerard was right behind her.

  *

  Curse the man! Could he not leave her alone! Marared halted at the edge of a patch of herbs. Although most of the ground was still bare, she could see mint and chives poking through the soil. Malmsbury came up beside her. As always, his good looks and brooding, thoughtful manner unnerved her. He was like some deep, quiet mountain pool, potent with the promise of things unknown and magic lurking at the bottom of its ancient depths. Like the tarn near Caer Brynfawr, where she used to gaze down into the dark water and imagine King Arthur’s sword was hidden there, its bright blade and jewel encrusted hilt obscured by the murk.

  “Not much to see this time of year.”

  She faced him. “Many of the plants are dormant, but they’re still there.”

  “Do you know much about gardening?”

  “Some. My mother used to have a beautiful one when she lived in Ireland.”

  “What about at Caer Brynfawr?”

  “The mountain climate is too harsh to grow more than a few vegetables and herbs. Indeed, we get most of our grain from along the coast and the isle of Mona.”

  “When did your mother die?”

  She frowned at him. This discussion was becoming far too intimate. “Five years ago, of the lung fever.”

  “At least you had her that long.”

  There was a hint of sadness in his tone. Nay, she would not ask him about his mother. He was her enemy. She did not care what grief he might have known.

  “Why did your mother, an Irishwoman, wed a Welshman?”

  “Their families had been connected for generations. Perhaps they were even kin. Not close of course, but enough that it was logical for them to wed.”

  “So, their marriage was arranged because it represented a useful alliance?”

  She glared at him. “There is a difference. My parents were not enemies.”

  She wondered if her stubbornness made him angry. He took a step closer. She stood her ground. He seized her arm and pulled her toward him. Before she could react, he brought his mouth down on hers. The sensation of his lips on hers was so shocking, for a second, she forgot to fight him. Then she recovered herself and jerked away.

  She stared at his lean, hard face. His enigmatic hazel eyes bored into her. Moisture glistened on his lips, and she remembered how they had felt against hers. Firm and enticing. She could feel a tingling heat spread through her body. God help her, she wanted him to kiss her again.

  His mouth quirked with bitterness. “I suppose you are right, that this is not the time nor the place. I can hardly lay you down on the bare ground. And it’s a bit too cold to remove our clothing.”

  She flushed at the images his words evoked. Of their half-naked bodies entwined on the earth. She knew how people coupled. She had once surprised her brother Maelgwn with one of the kitchen girls. The memory suddenly altered, and became her and Malmsbury. His lean hips thrusting, while she was the woman shuddering and moaning beneath him.

  An involuntary tremor of longing seized her. She wrapped the shawl more tightly around herself and raised her gaze to Malmbury’s, trying to regain her hostility. But inside, she felt weak and quivering. There was a burning ache in her lower belly and her legs felt as if they would not hold her up. His gaze aroused even stranger sensations. In some helpless, traitorous part of her being, she desired him. Longed for him to kiss her. To feel his body against hers. For the hard lance of his phallus to penetrate the throbbing place between her legs, and soothe the ungodly ache he had incited.

  He bowed formally. “Good day, madam. I will see you in the hall tonight for the evening meal.” He turned, his body as straight and stiff as a new blade. As he strode off, Marared exhaled a silent moan of regret.

  *

  Sweet heaven, she would be the death of him! Gerard clenched his hands into fists as he started toward the keep. It was maddening to be so close to his wife and know he had the right to possess her, yet be forced to walk away. Worst of all, he had no idea if he was making any progress. He was beginning to wonder if she would ever soften.

  Stubborn, difficult, infuriating wench! If she were a child, he’d turn her over his knee and take a switch to her behind!

  Now, there was a provocative thought. He could imagine her naked bottom, creamy white and as softly rounded as a ripe apricot.

  The mental image brought a wave of sexual need so intense, he paused to recover himself. Had any man had ever died from unrelieved lust? Probably not. Unless he completely lost his wits and stumbled off the castle ramparts while obsessing over his untouchable wife’s incredible allure.

  Jesu, how had this happened? He’d always been so controlled and disciplined. Never before had he allowed anything to distract him from his objectives. Here he was, on the verge of having everything he’d fought so hard for, and he became a besotted halfwit!

  Not besotted. It was simply a matter of wanting what he could not have. Once he bedded Marared, thin
gs would settle down between them and he’d be able to deal with her better.

  With effort, he forced his thoughts away from his provoking wife and continued across the bailey.

  Chapter Six

  Gerard took a deep breath before stepping into the barracks. Three days had passed since they’d arrived at Tangwyl, and the stalemate between him and Marared continued. She spoke to him only when spoken to. Slept in the same chamber, although with her in the bed and him on a pallet on the floor. Sat beside him at the evening meal, but ate in silence. It was wearing on his nerves. As he went about his duties around the castle, the frustration over his lack of progress with his new wife followed him like a nagging shadow. It didn’t help the weather had been cool and rainy, cooping everyone up inside.

  When he reached the barracks, he found the men gathered around a brazier meant to take the chill off the spring air. They were polishing armor and repairing harnesses. A pair in the corner were playing draughts. They looked up a bit guiltily as they saw him.

  Gerard nodded to Llew ap Hywel, one of the knights who had accompanied them from Caer Brynfawr. “If I could speak to you.”

  Llew got up and followed Gerard out, his weathered face impassive. Gerard walked to the cistern where the horses watered. The rain had stopped briefly, but it was clear from the dark, heavy sky that it would be only a short reprieve. He faced the Welshman. “Sir Llew, I need some advice.”

  The man nodded, his dark blue eyes respectful, but also watchful and wary.

  “I’m certain you’ve known Marared a long time.”

  “All her life.”

  “Can you give me any insight into her nature? Suggest any way for me to get her to accept me as her husband?” There, he’d done it. Revealed the bald, bitter truth. If Llew was so inclined, he could share the sad details of Gerard’s marriage with every knight and servant at the castle. But Gerard felt certain he would not. Even if he didn’t know Llew ap Hywel, he knew his sort. They were tip-lipped even with their closest companions.

  Llew was silent for a long while, his expression distant. “Since her mother died, Marared has been allowed to run wild. Her father indulges her, as does everyone at Caer Brynfawr. Carodac mourned his wife deeply, and Marared is the very image of her. But Catriona—his wife—she would never have approved. While Catriona was alive, she made certain to keep Marared busy and to involve her in all the tasks of running the household.”

  A blunt speech, in answer to Gerard’s blunt question. Gerard felt a new respect for Llew ap Hywel. Clearly, the man wanted this alliance to work as much as Gerard did.

  “I appreciate your honesty. But it gets me no closer to a solution.”

  “You must find a way to engage Marared’s interest and help her find a place here. She is capable and intelligent. She needs to have some responsibility, to spend her days doing something meaningful. That’s what will help her become part of this place and learn to care about the castle and its people.”

  It was good advice, although Gerard was still at loss as to exactly how to accomplish it.

  Llew looked up at the sky. “When the weather clears, take her out riding. Perhaps that will ease her homesickness a bit.”

  “When the weather clears.” Gerard grimaced. It would help all their moods if the rain would stop.

  He thanked Llew and sought out Hilda. He found her in the kitchen, supervising the preparation of the evening meal. Fine lines creased her forehead and bracketed her mouth. She turned when he called to her. A smile softened her sharp features. “Milord?”

  “Is something wrong?” he asked. “You look distressed.”

  “I fear some of the hams in the cellar have gone bad. They were probably not smoked properly last fall. ’Twill mean the pottage the next few months will be very bland.”

  “Is there anything else that can be used instead?”

  “Mutton, of course. But it doesn’t add the same flavor.”

  “Perhaps we can have some of the squires set snares and catch some hares.”

  Hilda gave him that quick smile again. “Fresh meat is always welcome. I’m surprised you know about such things, milord.”

  “When I was a boy, we often ate hare stew.” Perhaps she would guess from his words that he hadn’t grown up in a castle, but in a simple village croft. Normally, he avoided drawing attention to his background. But he didn’t think it would make Hilda look upon him unfavorably. She was a kindly woman.

  “I suspect you should be the one to arrange that, milord. I know little about snares or hunting.”

  “I’ll talk to the squires. This time of year, they don’t have much else to do.”

  “Was there a reason you sought me out, milord?”

  Gerard glanced at the kitchen staff. They all seemed busy at work: sorting dried peas, chopping leeks, kneading bread and the like. But Gerard suspected they were all listening intently. Since he’d arrived at Tangwyl, everyone had treated him with deference, but he knew the castle inhabitants were very curious about him. Although he tried to behave as a lord should, he was still a bit overawed to find himself in a position of such power. He knew he often behaved too familiarly with his underlings. Like the conversation he was about to have with Hilda.

  “Come. Walk with me a moment.”

  He had intended to take her out into the yard, but when they reached the doorway he realized it was raining heavily. Not wanting to go into the hall where they could be overheard, he said, “Why don’t you take me down to the cellars and show me the hams you’re talking about.”

  “Of course, milord. But we’ll need a candle or torch to see where we’re going.”

  Gerard took an unlit torch from a bracket on the wall and they went back into the kitchen to light it.

  Once the torch was lit, Hilda reached for it. “If you will allow me, milord. I know the way far better than you.” She was clearly baffled by his desire to see the hams, but she led the way down the stairs to the storage cellars under the kitchen. A dozen hams hung from the ceiling supports. Hilda motioned. “I can show you the ones that are starting to rot. They start to turn a greenish hue and smell rank.”

  “There’s no need. Indeed…that’s not the real reason I wanted to come down here. I wanted to talk you about my wife. In private.”

  Hilda hesitated before speaking. “I’m not certain I can help you, milord. She’s not like any gentlewoman I’ve ever encountered. Not that I’ve known that many. Lord FitzAdam didn’t often entertain company, and both his wives died young.”

  “What I wondered was…have you become aware of any aspect of the castle that interests Marared? That is, was there any time when you were giving her the tour of the keep and yard that you felt she had…engaged with what you were telling her?”

  “I’m afraid not, milord. She seemed disdainful of everything I showed her. That is…she wasn’t rude. She didn’t say anything untoward. But I could tell she found fault with almost everything.”

  Gerard knew a rising sense of gloom. How was he to act on Llew’s advice when there was nothing that pleased Marared? She seemed determined to hate every aspect of her new life.

  “Milord?”

  He could see pity in Hilda’s eyes. Curse it! He didn’t want to be pitied! “Thank you, Hilda. I…I will think some more on the matter of the hams.”

  *

  “Marared?”

  She turned, not only at the sound of her name, but at the familiar cadence with which it was said. Llew, one of her father’s men, stood on the garden pathway. “Isn’t it a bit cool to be sewing here?” He spoke in Welsh. “Would you not be more comfortable inside?”

  “I have my cloak.”

  The weathered skin around Llew’s blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Your lips are near blue, child.”

  Marared bit back the sharp retort that came to mind. Llew had always been nothing but kind to her. She let out a sigh, then turned away, not wanting him to see the tears glistening in her eyes.

  He sat down on the bench beside her.
“’Tis all right, blodyn bach. It only stands to reason you would be homesick. Tell me, what do you miss the most?”

  She turned toward him, letting the tears fall. “’Tis hard to say. My mam, I suppose. I know she’s been dead for years, but I’ve never felt the loss of her so greatly.”

  “You feel you need the advice of a woman?”

  Marared nodded. “’Tis all so new. So overwhelming.” She motioned to indicate the keep behind them.

  “Have you told Lord Gerard this?”

  Marared stiffened. “He’s my enemy! Why would I confide in him?”

  Llew’s expression was gentle. “He’s concerned you are unhappy.”

  Concerned that I will not let him bed me, is more like! Concerned that I hate him!

  “He wants you to be…if not happy, then at least content with your lot here.”

  “That will never happen. Never!”

  Llew didn’t speak for a time. Then his gaze met hers. “Do you not think it was hard for your mother? To give up her life in Ireland and move to a remote mountain fortress so far away from her family?”

  “But she loved Da! She wanted to marry him!”

  “Did she?” Llew shook his head. “She didn’t love him in the beginning. Indeed, she was dreadfully unhappy. Like you are now.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true. I was there. And you can ask your da. Indeed, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you these things. Perhaps he was afraid to.”

  “Afraid? Why?” Now Marared was truly puzzled.

  “I suspect he didn’t bother speaking to you on the matter of marriage because he’d decided it was hopeless. He knew that once you learned the man you were to wed wasn’t one of your countrymen, you would be so angry, you wouldn’t listen to anything he said. That’s why he arranged this marriage without telling you and rushed through the ceremony. The truth is, as much as you were coerced, so was Malmsbury.”

  “That’s ridiculous! He got what he wanted. All he really cares about is Tangwyl.”

  “Is it? Don’t you think he hoped to have a wife who had some fondness for him? One he could get along with, at the very least?”