by Nicole Locke
The fire in front of him was banked too low for any heat, but he didn’t need any. He wondered whether she was even sleeping. He was a fool for keeping her here as long as he had. And for what? So that he could be as uncomfortable as hell.
Teague lifted the goblet to his lips and grimaced when he realised it was empty. A full flagon of wine later, another on the way and he was still as restless as when he left her. Like some young pup, he had watched her pet her bird. Her hands so small and delicate, yet strong and capable. He wanted those hands stroking him. Fresh blood rushed low in his body and he wanted to howl. There wasn’t enough wine in the kingdom for what he needed.
‘I thought I’d find you drinking away your troubles.’
‘I have no troubles,’ Teague said, not glancing at his brother.
Chuckling, Rhain repositioned the matching chair so that it faced Teague. ‘Oh, I think you do, brother.’
‘What are you doing up? It is late.’
Rhain slumped into a chair. ‘Keeping an eye on you. The whole castle knows you met with Anwen in the mews this evening.’
‘Remind me to get rid of everyone.’
‘Even Ffion.’
Teague’s lips twisted. ‘Especially her.’
Rhain crossed his legs and his ankles. ‘Blood is blood and according to her we have need of spiritual guidance during these times.’
‘Not for too much longer. We ride to Brynmor tomorrow.’
‘With Anwen? I am surprised you are letting her go.’
‘She is not the enemy.’
‘Yes, but that is not a surprise. Why go with her now?’
Teague lifted his goblet, only to find it still empty. ‘Because I find I cannot rule out Brynmor’s role in this. She still withholds something from me.’
‘You’ve hurt her and she snaps back at you. Is she happy that she’s going?’
When he’d told her, Anwen’s face had been flushed with joy. It staggered him. ‘She won’t be happy once she knows I travel with her.’
‘You’re letting her go, but not completely. Have you wondered at your motivation?’
Teague did not answer.
‘Never mind, all in good time, I’m sure. A trip to Brynmor will prove interesting. Ffion will also want to go. She has a bee up her habit about keeping an eye on you.’
‘She may come, but you’d better control her until then,’ Teague said.
‘I shall, as ever, continue in my care of our aunt, but I do not understand it. She seems to be more troubled every day.’
‘Troubled or not, she’s family and she stays here,’ Teague commanded. ‘But there are times when I have little use for her type of spirituality.’
‘Especially when you’re trying to bed a woman you are not married to.’
Teague shot him a look.
Rhain lifted his eyebrows in challenge. ‘How early do we leave on the morrow?’
‘Not very. It is not a long trip, but I do expect to stay a couple of days.’
‘I thought you did not suspect Urien or Robert of any sabotage.’
‘Never Robert. But as useless as Urien is, he could orchestrate something and I am running out of options. I am tired of always being on the defence in this battle.’
Rhain stood. ‘Since tomorrow is to be such an interesting day, I believe I better get my beauty sleep.’
‘You’ll be staying.’
‘Of course, I’ll be staying by your side. There are threats on your life, I’ll not be returning to Gwalchdu merely to be deprived of your company.’
Teague set the goblet down. ‘No, you will stay here. This is not an argument. I’ll see Gwalchdu passed to you before Edward gets his hands on it, or worse, Urien. The enemy cannot be at two places at the same time. It is safer for Gwalchdu if you remain here.’
Rhain looked as if he might argue, then grinned, and walked away. ‘Ah, your precious Gwalchdu. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to her now, would we?’
Chapter Eleven
It was late afternoon by the time they cleared the trees and Anwen had a view of Brynmor. She had only been gone for one full moon, but it was as if she’d been gone a lifetime. There was still the walled gate that was the height of two men. The keep, too, was the same: centred in the middle, on a small hill, square and squat. The fields and the hills surrounding them, all covered with a sheen of frost, contrasted sharply to the worn wooden structure that housed people.
When compared with Gwalchdu, Brynmor appeared small and defenceless. It was no wonder the English had defeated the Welsh.
Anwen stroked Gully, who was perched on her arm. What was wrong with her? She was home and it was time to stop comparing Brynmor to Gwalchdu. If it wasn’t for Gwalchdu changing sides during the war, Brynmor wouldn’t have been defenceless. She was well to leave that cold stone fortress, with all its complications.
Teague’s arm tightened around her. ‘Anxious to be home?’
Anwen shivered as his warm breath caressed her ear. ‘Of course.’
‘It appears someone isn’t happy to see us.’
The gates to Brynmor were closed. They were never closed in the middle of the day, even in winter, because the fields demanded constant access to the keep. What had happened here?
The soldiers looked to Teague as he sat patiently waiting. Brynmor’s soldiers could see Gwalchdu’s banner, a black hawk against red, snapping in the wind. Teague was a Marcher Lord. It was Brynmor’s duty to welcome him. By having the gates shut, it was at the very least an insult and at the most treason.
Anwen could sense the tension rising, her own included, but then a man appeared above the gate. It was Robert of Dent, the English Governor to Brynmor. Before she could call out and ask for the gates to be opened, Teague interrupted.
‘Robert!’ Teague’s voice boomed over Anwen’s head. Startled, Gully let out a low cry.
‘Were you expecting someone else?’ Robert retorted.
‘With this reception, I had my doubts.’
‘I had doubts it was you, as you’ve never graced us with your presence despite the distance. I needed to see it for myself.’ Robert gave a gesture and the gates of Brynmor opened. When they were wide enough, Teague gently urged his horse into her home.
Anwen was grateful for Teague’s arms supporting her as she didn’t think she could sit straight by herself. The exchange of the two men surprised and confused her. Robert had travelled to Gwalchdu in the past. But the exchange between them was not of vague acquaintances, or of respectful English comrades. The exchange was that of true friendship.
But it could not be. In all the years here, she had never seen Teague and only a few times had Robert left Brynmor for Gwalchdu. Yet, it seemed they were friends, and a friendship between Robert of Dent and Teague of Gwalchdu did not bode well. It made her feel like some pawn in a game she did not know the rules to.
Pushing aside her unease, she glanced at the familiar faces of Brynmor’s residents that she had missed so dearly. She was not prepared for the reception she got.
Certainly she had never ridden into Brynmor on horseback nor in the care of Teague of Gwalchdu, but she hadn’t expected the hostile stares from people she had once considered her friends. She turned her attention to Robert, knowing he wouldn’t bear her any ill will for the temporary company she kept.
She was a child when she had first seen Robert. It was during the years after the first Welsh War and he was one of the soldiers storming the gates of Brynmor in a minor skirmish. Years passed before she saw him again. He rode in with spurs on his heels, marking him for a knight. Anwen’s horror at seeing him again only increased since he was made English Governor of Brynmor.
It didn’t matter that Brynmor was in shambles or that Robert’s position was not that of lord. She still resented him being
there. With Urien useless with drink she expected Brynmor to suffer more under the arrogance of an Englishman. Yet from the moment Robert arrived, he worked with Brynmor’s people to make it profitable. He treated Lord Urien, a former Welsh minor Prince, with some care, and left Anwen alone to manage the mews. Ultimately, however, even after all his years here, he was English and, thus, an outsider.
Anwen took in the expected changes to her home. After all it had been weeks since she been here. The wintry weather at the least would make the landscape different. But that wasn’t the change she noticed most. It was that of the people, her people, who gave sidelong glances and avoided her direct stare.
She had no time for their doubt. Once she began her work, they would see she was still the same. The only people she owed her loyalty to were Alinore and Melun, but they weren’t here. She tried to concentrate on the bird on her wrist.
Why weren’t they in the courtyard?
Teague’s slight squeeze of her waist as he dismounted brought her back to the present. Gully made it impossible for her to dismount on her own, but before she could request Teague’s assistance, he strode over to Robert.
This was her home and she longed for freedom, but curiosity kept her silent as she watched the two men face each other. Teague’s back was to her, but she could see Robert. Despite the fact their earlier exchange had hinted at a friendship, Robert’s expression was reserved with a hint of anger. Robert was never angry. All was not as it seemed.
* * *
Teague faced the man he had rarely seen over the last five years. His face had aged little. In fact, Robert appeared younger and freer than he had ever seen him before and that was as perplexing as the welcoming they received. Things had changed at Brynmor. Whether the change was at the cost of Gwalchdu or the lives there, he was here to find out.
‘Good health to you and to Gwalchdu.’ Robert approached.
‘I did not expect to see you still here,’ Teague said.
‘There is more to a man than running away.’
Chuckling, Teague assessed the words that rankled and amused him, but he suspected Robert of Dent knew that. They had trained together at Edward’s court and knew each other well, despite what the Welsh wars had brought them.
‘Ever the tactician, Robert.’ Teague felt lighter, remembering the man of the past.
‘I always preferred to use my wits than my arm.’
‘It’s because your arm wasn’t any good.’
Robert’s eyes widened in surprise, then he threw back his head and let out a bark of a laugh. ‘If there is time, I will see you repaid for that remark.’
‘If your arm was as bad as it used to be, we’ll need little time.’
Robert chuckled again, but Teague saw something reflective in the other man’s eyes.
‘It was a long time ago, wasn’t it.’ It was a remark, not a question.
‘Yes, but I am reminded of it often.’
Teague nodded, his lips thinning. ‘Urien of Brynmor made that choice when he defied Edward in his true rule of Wales.’
Robert’s tone was light, but there was steel underneath his words. ‘I am well aware of the choices made.’
‘Pardon, my old friend. It still makes no sense to me that you are here when you could have had your own estate.’
‘As I said, I do not run,’ Robert said. ‘Why are you here, Teague? You know your welcome is given solely because of Edward’s decree.’
‘I have something of yours.’
Robert’s eyes went to Anwen. ‘Yes, you told me in the last missive you’d be returning her, but what do you do here personally? You know how Urien will respond.’
‘I don’t give a damn about Urien. It is my right to visit Brynmor and my right to expect hospitality, Robert. I am still a Marcher Lord.’
Robert’s gaze narrowed, but after a moment, he nodded and put his hand on Teague’s shoulder. ‘Come. Let us drink.’
* * *
Betrayed. She was betrayed by the Devil of Gwalchdu and her own people. Anwen watched Teague direct his men, but her eyes were not focused on him. Her thoughts were solely on the conversation she heard.
Robert mentioned he received a last missive from Teague, which meant there was a first missive. Robert had known she was a prisoner at Gwalchdu. He did nothing to help release her. Nobody at Brynmor came for her.
Then Teague had brought her home. Over the years, Robert had travelled to Gwalchdu to pay tithes and to exchange reports, but Teague had never travelled to Brynmor. Why?
Anwen’s mind reeled at the questions and possibilities. There was some reason besides her injury or his lust. Whatever the reason, she wanted nothing to do with it. In fact, she wanted nothing to do with any of them. All she’d ever wanted was to return to Brynmor and return to her work.
Teague gently squeezed her waist. ‘Are you well?’
‘I am unused to riding,’ she lied, supporting her weight on his shoulders as he helped her dismount. The bird in her hand made her awkward, or maybe it was his proximity. For an extended moment, there was nothing but her hands resting upon his shoulders, his hands spanning the breadth of her waist, an almost imperceptible tightening of his fingers. Then he released her and she stepped back.
‘Settle Gully and we will talk,’ he said.
Anwen quickly strode towards the mews. At her rapid movement, Gully bated, flapping his wings and trying to fly from her wrist, but she didn’t slow. She needed sanctuary.
* * *
When she entered into the familiar building, Anwen’s heart returned to its normal pace. She breathed in deeply, letting the musty smells engulf her as she walked to Gully’s empty perch.
What was Teague doing here? If he meant to simply return her, he could have sent her with a chaperon, but he had brought her himself, along with Ffion and some of his best men. So he must mean to extend his stay. Why hadn’t she questioned Teague’s bringing her here?
Untying one jess from the gauntlet, Anwen realised she knew the answer. Because she trusted Teague, fool that she was. So excited to be returning home, she’d believed the Traitor of Gwalchdu and fell into whatever game he planned for her. He was not on a mere errand of returning her and the bird to Brynmor, but had an agenda of his own. It appeared Robert thought the same.
So on one hand she had Teague’s secret agenda and on the other...betrayal. The people she believed to be her friends and family had not come to see to her health or take her home. Why hadn’t Robert come or sent someone to retrieve her? What of Alinore and Melun? They weren’t even in the courtyard to greet her. A lifetime of caring and she received nary a message from either. It was as if...as if she was of no value to them.
Willing her tears not to spill, she struggled to release Gully’s ties.
‘If you had been mine, I would have come for you.’
Anwen jumped at Teague’s voice. She had not heard him open the mews door, had not heard his feet crunch across the hay.
‘I would have come,’ Teague repeated, his voice soft and directly behind her. She did not turn at his words, or his close proximity.
How could he have known her thoughts? She had let him get too close to her at Gwalchdu. That would explain why his words in the mews last night affected her. He had not physically touched her, but it didn’t matter. Her body responded to him anyway.
She didn’t know how to control or rid herself of her thoughts of Teague. She feared that, with him, she would lose something of herself, like a hawk does its freedom. It was that bond between them again, unbidden, unwanted, but there, and just as translucent and strong, like a newly made creance.
Anwen stroked Gully, still on her wrist. Without Teague’s presence, the mews had calmed her, but now she realised her mistake. In this place that provided comfort, she lowered her defences completely. She was vulnerable t
o him.
If you had been mine.
She could not stop the image of herself belonging to such a man. The feeling alarmed and intrigued her, then she shook herself from her reverie. If she belonged to him, she had no doubt there would be little left of her. She couldn’t breathe with him.
‘You had correspondence with Robert,’ she said as lightly as she could. ‘You did not tell me of this.’
He tilted his head. ‘Was there a need?’
Was there a need? There wasn’t any more, but it bothered her.
‘Yes, there was a need! They were my messages. You had no right to hide them from me.’
‘My reasons were well founded.’
‘Because you own me now that you saved my life?’ she scorned. ‘Own me enough to make me your whore? Your well-founded reasons are a little vague to me.’
‘I never said I wanted you solely for my lust.’
She waved her free hand. ‘You’ve never spoken of any other reason. Since the start you have spoken of physical desire.’
She watched him open his mouth to speak, but he closed it and just stared at her.
‘You talk of lust, of being a whore, yet... Do you know of physical desire, Anwen?’ he asked.
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. ‘There are the dogs and horses. I have seen what they do.’
He sharply shook his head as if dislodging images. ‘Do you know about the desire between a man and a woman?’
‘Why are you asking me this? This will get us nowhere.’
‘I’m curious and you are prevaricating. And I think this conversation will get us somewhere.’ He tilted his head in that way that maddened and fascinated her. ‘You are usually blunt and never avoid subjects, which means you are trying to hide your innocence. I wonder why you do not wish to discuss this with me.’
‘If you would listen, you would know I don’t wish to discuss anything with you.’
‘Now you surprise me. You are lying, too.’
She stole another glance at him, and then wished she hadn’t. His black eyes held hers, drew her in, and she closed her own to release the sudden tension in her head.