by Nicole Locke
But Robert did not answer her; instead he peered over her shoulder. Alinore was descending the stairs. Anwen breathed a sigh of relief, but before she could walk towards her, someone grasped her wrist.
Teague. His grip did not hurt, but it was firm. Although she arched her brow at him, he merely nodded his head at the seat beside him, indicating for her to sit.
‘It’s about time that you joined us,’ Urien slurred from behind his goblet. Ever the lord of the manor, he sat in resplendent sprawl, his tunic stained with spilled ale. But it was not Urien’s slur or his dishevelled appearance that sent a shiver of warning through Anwen, it was his smug tone. Urien was pleased with himself. ‘Thought I’d have to have another talk with you.’
Anwen inhaled. She knew all about Urien’s ‘talks’. But before she could move, Robert was by Alinore’s side and giving a deep bow. ‘My lady, you look as fair as ever this evening.’
Alinore’s bowed head did not hide her blush at Robert’s remarks, nor did her long sleeves hide her tentative hand reaching for Robert’s.
Alinore rarely came to dinner and she never let anyone touch her. Melun said Alinore was changed. Anwen wondered in what other ways her sister was different.
Urien waved his goblet. ‘Come, girl, and take your place. I’m hungry.’
Alinore flinched at Urien’s crude behaviour and it was then that her headdress moved, revealing a dark red bruise across the side of her face.
Standing, Anwen gasped, but Teague’s hand on her arm stopped her. ‘Easy, Anwen. See how Robert attends her.’
‘If he attended her, she wouldn’t be hurt.’
‘Watch, Anwen.’
She didn’t want to listen to anything Teague said. How could he know what happened here? But causing a scene would embarrass Alinore, so she looked.
Alinore wasn’t sitting next to Urien, but between Robert and Ffion—Robert must have done that.
So, too, Robert shared his food with Alinore, helping her cut pieces small enough to pass through her swollen lips.
An odd twisting happened in her stomach as she watched Robert gently handle Alinore’s fragile pride. Her sister’s gentle smile behind such bruised and swollen features should have emoted only pity from Anwen, but it didn’t. Alinore had never smiled before, not like that, not with courage.
Anwen grabbed her ale and took a long draught. She should be happy that Alinore fared well while she was gone, not crying at the loss that she was no longer needed to protect her sister. She merely had to find other ways to be useful to Brynmor...to her home, so that she wouldn’t be thrown away like her mother. But what?
‘Peace, Anwen. It is for the better.’ Teague handed her a bite of chicken.
Anwen took the morsel he offered. ‘What do you know of better?’
Teague watched her close her mouth around the succulent meat. ‘I don’t know as yet, but I hope to find out,’ he answered.
Chapter Fourteen
Anwen awoke with a start at the creak of her door. It was black in her room, and silent, but she was not alone. She turned her head to see a broad figure standing in the doorframe.
She did not need light to see who it was. She would have recognised him even in the blackest of nights. She suspected it was an awareness born of those many nights when he sat by her bedside.
‘Teague, what do you do here?’
‘Come out with me.’
Although she’d never admit it, he possessed the Devil’s own voice, low, seductive, like a caress, and in the darkness of night when there were no other distractions, his voice took on a heightened power. It took a moment for Anwen to understand what he was saying.
‘It is night.’ She pointed out the obvious.
‘A time of the day that I find most pleasant.’
‘It rained and it’s cold.’
‘Walk with me, Anwen.’
His coaxing words held a hint of urgency and were waking her despite her exhaustion.
‘Turn around while I dress.’ She wasn’t taking any chances. He was, after all, known to have the Devil’s blood and she could believe it. Anybody that got her out of bed in the middle of the night must possess some ungodly powers. She certainly couldn’t be doing this of her own volition.
* * *
‘I don’t think this is wise,’ Anwen said, as they walked up through the fields. Peering over her shoulder, she could just make out a diminished Brynmor lit with only a few lamps. It appeared lacking against the night sky filled with stars.
‘It was necessary. Do you not trust me?’ Teague asked.
‘No,’ Anwen answered, although in truth, she must or else she wouldn’t have travelled this far with him. ‘We could fall into a hole and nobody would see us until morning.’
‘You are with me.’
‘I do not feel safe simply because you say so.’ Still, she continued to walk with him. ‘I hardly see what is practical about risking our necks in the middle of the night. If you needed to show me something, it might be easier in the daytime.’
‘I didn’t say it was practical, I said it was necessary.’
They cleared the trees and Anwen gasped. It was a fairyland. The full moon illuminated the darkness with soft, gentle light, shone like a giant pearl on the water. The river rippled and flowed against the wet rocks, boulders and dark fertile earth. The brisk night air was like a cloak blanketing them and carried the sounds of the river and tiny creatures to them.
Anwen always found this spot of the land tranquil, but she never came at night. It was a place transformed.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured.
‘It is better than I imagined.’
Anwen turned to him. ‘Why did you bring me here?’
Ignoring her question, Teague walked along the river’s edge. She followed him as they walked further away from the village and the keep. Their silence wasn’t uncomfortable since his presence and the river’s beauty were enough company. It was surprising what a difference a few hours could make. Whereas earlier, she had been irritated at his company, now in the dark of night it was almost comforting. So, too, though she was freezing in the night’s air, she was soothed by the sounds of the meandering river.
Peace. She found peace here and he had given it to her.
‘Thank you for bringing me here tonight.’
He glanced at her. ‘All these days, I couldn’t understand why you so often came here, as it was out of the way of all your usual activities.’
She was not surprised that he noticed. ‘You have been watching me.’
‘Yes.’ He took a couple more steps and then stopped. ‘After dinner you disappeared. Did you come here?’
She wouldn’t hide the truth from him. He had brought her back here. The least she could do was repay him with honesty. ‘Yes, I did, but...’
‘You didn’t find your peace before. And now?’
‘Maybe,’ she said. Was she confessing that somehow, miraculously, she found some peace with him? Perhaps it had simply been having the time to ease her thoughts or maybe it was that there was something different about him. He was giving, not demanding.
‘Returning to Brynmor has not been easy,’ she continued. ‘There have been changes since I was gone.’
‘You speak of Alinore?’ Teague watched her too closely.
‘Yes, she has changed. As you said, it is for the better, but...I miss the old Alinore, as well.’
‘She is happy now.’
‘Oh, she is, she is.’ She waved her hand in front of her.
‘Is it that she has grown while you were gone?’
‘Yes... No, more than that.’
‘It is her relationship with Robert that makes you uncomfortable.’
She glanced at him. ‘How did you know?’
&nb
sp; ‘I’ve known Robert a long time.’ Teague peered over her shoulder before he continued, ‘Robert and I fostered together at Edward’s court. He is younger than me, but despite that and the difference in our backgrounds, we became friends. Even at such a young age, he appeared older, more able to keep his head while training, and he trained hard, as if to prove something. We fought together for Edward during—’ Teague stopped, and his eyes caught hers.
‘The Welsh fight for independence,’ Anwen finished for him.
‘Yes, for that. During that time and before the signing of any treaties, we came across Brynmor in our fights. For reasons I could not fathom until recently, Robert asked to be appointed Governor of Brynmor. I think it is your Alinore that prompted Robert to stay.’
‘She was a child at the time of the fights.’
‘Did Urien already treat her wrongly?’
When they were younger, their father’s abuse had been public. ‘Yes. I never understood it because despite Urien’s abuse, she continually cared for him. Still does.’
Teague swiped some rocks at his feet. ‘Knowing Robert, he would not tolerate injustice done to Urien’s daughter. Growing up, he fought the rumours of his peasant blood and he was always there for the disadvantaged. With his sword skill, only fools challenged him.’
Anwen reflected on Teague’s assessment. It all fit. When Robert returned, Urien’s beatings had mostly ceased. She had always thought it was her own protection of Alinore stilling Urien’s anger, but perhaps Robert protected Alinore, too.
Teague threw a rock and it skipped across the river. ‘I think he stays because he cares for the woman she has become.’
Anwen remembered Alinore’s small secret smiles, how her eyes lit up when Robert was in the room. Alinore was in love. How simple and how complicated.
‘Urien would never allow their marriage.’
‘No doubt. However, if she still cares for Urien, it explains why Robert has allowed him to remain Lord of Brynmor even though Edward would have granted Robert the keep as a spoil of war.’ Teague rolled a rock between his fingers. ‘With Urien’s health, it is merely a matter of time until he dies.’
‘That would be a tidy ending.’ Anwen hugged herself against the cold. ‘But that doesn’t explain why he closed the gate against you.’
‘Doesn’t it? My presence here is sure to anger Urien and given Alinore’s fresh bruise tonight, I’d say Robert was justified in his displeasure at my coming.’
‘Why did you come here?’
Teague’s lips curved wryly. ‘It’s no secret that Urien and I have little liking for each other.’
Anwen waited. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and the moon’s reflection on the river cast enough light for her to see most of Teague’s features. He did not look at her as he skimmed another rock across the water with a thrust of his arm that caused his cloak to stretch against his back.
His loose hair looked soft, thick and warm as it rested on his shoulders and she wanted to feel the thick texture of it. She could almost touch him now and her breathing hitched at the thought. Instead, she shook herself against the cold and paced to warm up.
Teague threw his last rock. ‘What is a secret is that Urien’s hatred of me goes beyond the Welsh Wars. At one point, his ambition went beyond the walls of Brynmor.’
Anwen pivoted. Urien wanted to rule Gwalchdu? ‘How?’ she whispered.
Teague held out his hand to her. ‘Come, it is cold and we have been longer here than I intended.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to go back.’
‘Your teeth are chattering; take my hand, we’re not going back to the keep.’
Curious, she took his hand. She was colder than she thought. Quiet, watching their breaths rush in front of them, she held Teague’s familiar grasp. She could not seem to let him go. It was as if she needed his support for just a while longer.
Up the hill he took her, just skimming the houses outside of Brynmor’s gates, far enough away not to disturb the animals inside the buildings with the sleeping villagers.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she said, just as they crested a hill.
There, close to the top, was a small hut, thickly insulated with a fire vent. A hunting hut for winter time that hadn’t been used in years. Anwen thought it derelict, but with the warmth of the indoor fire making its lone window glow and smoke rise above the frosty night, it looked inviting.
‘What have you done?’
He squeezed her hand and opened the door. ‘Come, just a bit more.’
She had to, her teeth were chattering, and her hand in his was warm, but her other one was like ice.
He stripped her of her damp cloak and his own cloak and vest, then wrapped her in a warmed woollen blanket and took another for himself.
She shivered inside the blanket. It was dark with shadows in the room, but the fire lit it enough.
‘You’ve repaired it.’
‘I made it better. It was necessary.’
‘And that...’ She pointed to a pallet with fresh linens and heavy furs, waved her hand to the cauldron near the fire. She could smell warmed ale. ‘Are those necessary as well?’
He poured the ale into goblets and handed one to her. ‘On a night like this, very much so.’
She took the goblet and soaked up the heat as she took a sip. There was nowhere to sit save a stool and the pallet. She chose the stool. ‘Tell me of Urien.’
Teague’s lips quirked as he saw where she chose to sit. ‘I have said enough and too much thought is being wasted on the past when it is the present that occupies my thoughts.’
‘I followed you because of what you said by the river.’
He sat on the pallet and stretched his legs. The hut was not meant for more than four men with hunting gear and the pallet took up most of the room. She scrunched herself up on the stool, but Teague’s legs touched her nonetheless.
‘I know.’
Deceptive Devil of Gwalchdu. She looked around at the comfortable room, the quiet of the night, the seclusion and intimacy. She should have expected a trap, had been prepared for it all the time she was at Gwalchdu, but she’d let her guard down at Brynmor. As if home was safe from the Traitor. Nowhere was safe when he was around.
‘We need to return,’ she said.
‘Soon.’
He’d used that word before, when she thought he was going to kiss her. Now his gaze arrested her as it had then. It was as if her sole purpose for coming out this evening had been to look at him.
* * *
Teague tried to gather his thoughts, and couldn’t. Anwen’s blue eyes were wide, direct and just a little unsure. She was never unsure. ‘I did not tell you how beautiful you were tonight. All through the meal, I could not wait to be here with you.’ He bent and pushed his hand through her damp curls, his thumb gently touching the scar at the side of her temple. ‘Does it hurt?’
She pulled her head away and he felt the loss of the warmth of her skin.
‘No, the headaches are gone,’ she said.
He watched as her eyes changed from curiosity to challenge. He couldn’t believe he once thought her capable of subterfuge. She was not capable of hiding anything, and that went for more than just her thoughts. For three days, he watched her ceaselessly work beside her fellow Welshmen.
‘There is barely a scar, Anwen, and the swelling and redness are completely gone,’ he noted.
‘I know what it looks like.’
‘Do you?’ he asked.
‘The day I had my first bath.’ She turned her face away from him and took a sip of ale. ‘I saw my image in the water.’
‘That was weeks ago.’ Teague took a long draught, and set his cup on the floor. ‘You are still wounded.’
‘I said that I am well.’
‘It surprises me that you display such womanly vanity.’ Teague bent forward and lifted the goblet out of her hands and set it by his. Though her chin was raised, and her gaze held steady, hurt flickered for a moment in her eyes.
‘Anwen, I have seen you wash floors until your hands were cracked and bleeding. When the cold wind increased, you gleaned the fields with the servants until your face reddened. All your dresses have holes because you’re constantly tearing them with hawk’s talons or forest shrubbery chasing after your birds.’
He leaned further forward, cupped her hands in his. She did not wrap her fingers with his, but neither did she pull her hand away. She also turned to make their position easier. She would listen.
‘You have the least vanity of any woman I have ever known, not because you have no need to, but because of your merit, your strength, your purpose.’
‘You compare me like you would a horse.’
Kneeling in front of her of her, Teague let his breath out softly; he would need patience to woo her. ‘You have a noble heart, a strong spirit and a fire inside you, Anwen of Brynmor. That is a rare beauty. One little scar that is covered by a lock of your golden hair is not a blemish, but a testament to your beauty. You risked your life to capture a mere bird. By doing so, you saved that bird’s life and the livelihood of an old falconer.’
* * *
Teague’s thick callused fingers wrapped with hers, and she almost leaned into the warmth of his body and the black heat from his eyes. He knelt in front of her. The Devil, the Traitor of Gwalchdu knelt, comforted her with words, with his hands. She tried to shut out the warmth, the heat, but his words...his words somehow slipped inside her. ‘What is the point of this conversation?’
‘It is necessary.’
‘For what?’
‘For letting you know my desire.’
‘Your desire?’ She choked over the two words.
‘For you. Haven’t I shown you how I am different than other men you have known?’
‘Other men...like Urien? Like his men?’
‘You insult me, insult us. I’m not like them and what you described to me.’ He pressed her hands. ‘That is why we are here. It was necessary to have this time together so that we can come to a more civilised arrangement.’