She didn’t believe that, and they would still be alone here. “If you are as honorable as you say, why did you abduct us?”
“Honorable where women are concerned, then,” he amended. “Unlike your husband.”
“What do you mean?”
His glance slid to her parents. “I’ll explain to you alone, my lady, or not at all.”
Her mother rose with stately dignity. “We shall do as you say. But if you harm our daughter, my husband’s vengeance will be nothing compared to mine,” she said, before she started toward the stairs.
Her father followed, darting a threatening glare over his shoulder.
When they were gone, Trefor grabbed her father’s cup and finished the wine before sitting across from her. “I can see where you get your manner. God, like a queen your mother is and you a princess. Maybe I should have helped John, too, like Madoc. Then John could pay me off with a fine wife.”
“What do you want to say to me that you couldn’t say in my parents’ presence?”
Trefor rose abruptly. He walked a short distance away, then turned to face her. “I’m going to tell you the truth about your husband.”
“You could have done that without sending them away.”
“It’s bad enough you looking at me with those big eyes of yours.”
“If I disturb you so much, save your breath and let us go.”
“God, you’re a cool one! You must freeze the marrow of my brother’s bones.”
“If you prefer to think so,” she replied, resting her hands on her stomach.
His gaze flicked to those protective, laced fingers. “Maybe not all the time.”
She might have inadvertently revealed too much, as Madoc had done with his men, but it was too late now.
He tilted his head as he studied her. “Why have you left him? Or has he had enough and sent you away?”
She didn’t answer. She would say nothing of what had happened with Madoc to this man.
“You expect me to believe you’re just off on a little jaunt with the family, after only being married a month or so?”
“I don’t care what you believe. And if you have nothing to tell me about my husband after all, then at least let me be with my parents.”
“Very well, don’t tell me why you’ve left him. It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“How long do you intend to keep us here?”
“Until I get a ransom, as you so cleverly suggested.”
“If things are as you suggested and he sent me away, you can’t expect that he’ll pay a ransom for me.”
“Aye, that’s true,” Trefor mused, running his hand over his chin in a way that reminded her more of Lloyd than her husband.
Was that why she wasn’t afraid? Why no feeling of panic clutched at her heart? Because he was so much like the men of Llanpowell?
Whatever the reason, she wasn’t frightened. She was angry.
“Then I’ll just tell Madoc you’ve decided to stay with me, for our mutual pleasure.”
She started to stand. “You disgusting lout! How dare you?”
“Sit down, my lady.”
She didn’t.
“Sit down, my lady.”
“Or what? You’ll force me to?”
“Aye, I will.”
“Proving you’re just the sort of spoiled, childish brat Madoc said you were.”
“That’s good, coming from him. But it’s no wonder you believe that when you’ve been told a pack of lies about me.”
“You didn’t come to your wedding drunk after spending the night with a whore and bragging about it?”
Trefor flushed. “I was drunk and a fool, but Madoc took advantage of it, so he got the woman I loved and the land and castle that should have been mine—just as he’d always wanted.”
“What of Gwendolyn, whom you claimed to have loved?” she demanded. “Was she supposed to believe that you loved her after the way you humiliated her?”
Madoc’s eyes would have blazed with anger; Trefor’s gaze grew as cold as snow on a frozen river. “If she’d loved me as she said she did, she would never have married Madoc. She would have forgiven me.”
“As you’ve forgiven your brother?” she countered.
The Welshman scowled. “You know only his side, my lady, not mine.”
“Very well,” she said, sitting down again. “I shall listen to your side.”
He hesitated a moment, then threw himself onto the bench opposite her. “Did Madoc tell you why I got drunk? Did he explain why I went with that whore, to you or anyone?
“No, he didn’t,” he said, answering his own question, “although he knows. I got drunk because I saw the oh-so-very-honorable Madoc kissing Gwendolyn—and she was kissing him back. I went with another woman because they’d both betrayed me. I was going to announce their duplicity to everybody gathered for the wedding, but first I got drunk and slept with a whore. Why not? Why not go with another woman after what they’d done?”
He smiled at her with cold satisfaction. “The honorable Madoc left that out, didn’t he? He didn’t tell our father, either, or anyone else, so that all the disgrace fell on me. That way, he got Gwendolyn, and our father disinherited me.”
“If what you say is true,” Roslynn said slowly, not willing to accept what he said at face value, “and Gwendolyn betrayed you, too, perhaps it was just as well you didn’t marry her. But you could have confronted them when you saw them. If not then, you could have gone to your father yourself and called off the wedding. You could have behaved with honor and then you would have had Llanpowell at least.”
Trefor sniffed with derisive scorn. “You don’t understand at all, do you? I loved Gwendolyn, and I loved my brother, too. So when I saw them and realized how they’d betrayed me, I couldn’t think. They’d broken my heart, as well as my trust.” He regarded her with skeptical disdain. “I’m forgetting the Normans don’t understand love.”
“I understand, more than you can imagine,” she replied, beginning to feel a little sympathy for him, despite what he had done. “I understand making mistakes in the name of love. I’ve done so myself, made terrible errors that affected my family because I loved, or thought I did. But it was I who paid the heaviest price. I didn’t try to assuage my wounded pride by hurting anyone else. That’s why I did as John commanded and came here to marry your brother. I wanted to spare my family more trouble and shame. Yet you act like a child, stealing your brother’s sheep.”
Trefor’s gaze hardened to ice. “He’s lied about that, too. I’ve done nothing but seek justice and reparation. He stole from me first, and I’ve few enough sheep as it is, so I took back an equal number. That’s all I’ve done since. If that’s not the truth, why hasn’t he sought justice from his good friend, King John?”
“Because he doesn’t want to be responsible for your death if you’re convicted,” she replied, wondering what the truth really was. She couldn’t believe Madoc could be so petty and vindictive, so greedy and ambitious. Madoc was hot-tempered and brash, he certainly felt anger toward his brother, but he wasn’t a thief.
Yet she was also beginning to believe that Trefor had some justification for his bitter resentment.
Perhaps the truth lay somewhere in between, hidden beneath misunderstandings and hurt feelings. “If what you say is true, why haven’t you accused your brother in a court of law?”
“Because Madoc has Llanpowell and so is more powerful than me. They’d surely take his word over mine.”
Roslynn had seen enough of kings and courts to realize that Trefor might have good cause for that conviction.
“What of the black ram?” she asked. “What ram of yours had Madoc stolen and killed?”
“He stole more than that on my wedding day—he stole the woman I loved,” Trefor retorted.
He rose and pulled Roslynn to her feet, the coldness in his eyes replaced by the heat of angry lust. “By God, I ought to make him suffer the way he’s made me.”
Panic came, and fear
, but it fled just as quickly, overcome by the certainty that even if Madoc wasn’t here, he could still protect her. “What do you think Madoc will do to you if you do?”
“It might be worth it to find out,” Trefor growled as he pulled her close.
Never again!
It wasn’t fear and panic rushing through her now. It was anger and pride. She was Lady Roslynn of Llanpowell, and she would fight to protect her honor.
She grabbed for his sword, simultaneously twisting away and pulling it from the sheath so quickly that Trefor didn’t realize what she’d done until she had the tip of his own sword against his chest.
“I’ll kill you,” she warned. “Let us go, or by all the saints in heaven, I’ll run you through!”
Although he held out his arms in surrender, he didn’t look afraid. He looked…respectful. “I don’t doubt it,” he said, “but you seem to think I should be afraid to die. I’m not, since Gwendolyn has gone before me.”
He began to lower his arms. “And I have no difficulty letting you go, as I never planned to keep you, or your parents, or their men, or harm you, either. I’m no murderer. I didn’t even come after you on purpose. I was headed south on other business. Meeting you was just a coincidence and it was only to annoy Madoc I brought you here when I realized who you were. I see now that was a mistake.”
“Yes, it was,” she said, still keeping the heavy sword pointed at him.
“I give you my word, which is as valuable to me as Madoc’s is to him, that you and your party will be safe here,” Trefor said. “You’re my guests, and tomorrow you’ll be free to go, which is what I always intended. It’s too dark to travel now. And I promise no harm will come to you and I’ll never touch you again.” His arms fell to his sides. “Although if you tell Madoc, I suppose my days are numbered.”
She finally lowered the sword. “He may very well want to kill you if I tell him what you did.”
Trefor’s unusual eyes widened. “You might not?”
“I should,” she replied. “Except that Madoc and his men will surely attack Pontyrmwr and innocent men may die. Whatever happened between the two of you and Gwendolyn, that’s a poor reason for other men to lose their lives.”
Trefor slowly shook his head. “By God, Madoc’s a fool indeed if he’s sent you away. If you were my wife…”
Roslynn blinked as he seemed to shift and sway. So did the stone walls of the keep. The sword grew too heavy to hold, then fell from her hands as all around her went black.
MADOC STOOD on the outer wall walk facing the road leading to his castle, scarcely believing the evidence of his own eyes. Yet it was true—a soldier bearing the banner of Lord James de Briston was leading a cortege coming toward Llanpowell, and there was the wagon that had taken Roslynn away from him. The cortege was not moving quickly, which meant they must not have been attacked or otherwise in danger, so what else could this return mean but that Roslynn had decided to come back to him?
“Open the gates!” he shouted as he ran to a nearby ladder and skittered down it as if he were part monkey, a creature he’d seen once at a fair.
He dashed to the gate and came to a stumbling halt, only then realizing how he must look to the guards—the lord of Llanpowell as excited as a boy because his wife had changed her mind.
He didn’t care what Roslynn made of his enthusiasm, but there were his garrison and household, her parents and the men of their escort to consider. It would be better to meet his wife and her family formally in the courtyard and save the true expression of his joy and relief for when he and Roslynn were alone.
Resolved to be more dignified, he started for the inner gate at a more leisurely pace, straightening his tunic as he went.
It seemed that word of Roslynn’s return had already reached the household by the time he got to the yard, for Uncle Lloyd was already waiting, hopping from foot to foot like an overeager boy.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he cried when he saw Madoc. “She’s coming back. I knew it was only a little fit of temper—but I didn’t think she’d change her mind so quick. A mite stubborn, I thought, but look you, here she comes!”
“Aye, here she comes,” Madoc replied, trying to act calm, wondering if he was fooling anyone. He hadn’t slept at all last night, mentally replaying over and over all the things he’d said and done wrong, and not only where Roslynn was concerned.
“You’re not going to be stubborn, too, are you?” Uncle Lloyd asked anxiously, sliding him a wary glance. “She’s had time to calm down and think it over and come to her senses. You ought to be gracious and generous and come to yours.”
Worried Roslynn might still be upset with him, he considered warning his uncle that all might not be completely well between them yet, even though he was prepared to do all he could to make it so. “You don’t know what we fought about.”
Uncle Lloyd blushed. “Well, no, I don’t, but it’s not so serious you can’t make up, is it? Look you, Madoc, she’s coming back to you. For a proud woman, that’s no small concession.”
Feeling a little more hopeful, Madoc permitted himself a small smile. “Aye, and so of course I’ll be magnanimous and welcome her back with open arms.”
And take her to their chamber, take her in his arms and…
Ivor appeared, hurrying from the stables. “What’s this I hear?” he asked as he reached Madoc and Lloyd. “Is it true Lady Roslynn and her parents are returning?”
“Aye. They must be in the outer ward already,” Lloyd gleefully replied. “What did I tell you? Just a little lovers’ spat, that’s all.”
It had been more serious than that, but if that’s what Lloyd and others believed, Madoc wasn’t going to disillusion them. Ivor, however, was more perceptive, and more skeptical.
“Naturally I hoped this breach could be mended,” he said slowly, “although I confess I thought it would take longer. She always struck me as a rather stubborn and defiant young woman.”
“She is, and so it’s no wonder we quarreled. I expect we will again,” Madoc replied, even though he wished with all his heart they wouldn’t. “However, since she’s my wife, I’m sure I can count on you to treat her with all due respect, even when we disagree.”
“Naturally, she has my respect,” Ivor said, “but I also hope she isn’t going to be one of those wives who goes running off to her parents every time you quarrel.”
Madoc didn’t reply because he wasn’t listening. Lord James had just ridden into the courtyard and the wagon was rumbling in behind him.
Madoc meant to stay where he was, as if Roslynn and her parents were visiting dignitaries. He didn’t want to act like a besotted lover. Yet in spite of his desire to appear the cool, calm nobleman, his heart’s longing propelled him toward the wagon as fast as he could go without breaking into a run.
“Lord James, welcome back to Llanpowell,” he said, managing to at least sound calm, and despite the strained expression on the Norman’s face, as if he thought his daughter was making a mistake coming home.
“This was not my choice,” the nobleman bluntly replied. “Your brother stopped us on the road south of here and forced us to accompany him to his keep and—”
“Where’s Roslynn?” Madoc demanded as a fear unlike anything he’d ever felt swept over him. If his brother had hurt her, if he’d so much as touched her—
“I’m here, Madoc,” she called weakly from the wagon.
In two strides, Madoc was beside it and threw open the door.
Roslynn reclined against her mother. She looked pale and exhausted, and another thought came to him, dark and terrible.
If Trefor had dishonored her, he would die before the day was out.
“I’m all right, Madoc,” she said, rising to get out of the wagon, until her mother held her back.
“You shouldn’t walk,” Lady Eloise said to her daughter before addressing Madoc, and her words were like a noose around his heart. “She’s bleeding. Help me get her to a bed.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MORE TERRIFIED than if he faced a hundred foes single-handedly, Madoc leaned into the wagon and lifted Roslynn, unresisting, in his arms. Her silent acquiescence, her listless manner, made him want to wail with dismay. She was too much like Gwendolyn at the last, bleeding and exhausted and dying.
“Gently, gently,” Lady Eloise unnecessarily urged as he backed out of the wagon.
Roslynn nestled against him as he carried her to the hall, trailed by her parents and an unnaturally silent Uncle Lloyd.
“Lloyd, see to Lord James’s men and I want more men on watch—everywhere,” Madoc ordered while silently praying that Roslynn and the child would both be well.
Once in the hall, Madoc shouted for Bron to bring fresh linen and warm water to the bedchamber, and to Lowri to fetch coals for the brazier. To Rhonwen he called for bread and mulled wine, and sent another servant for the village midwife.
Despite these orders, by the time he got Roslynn to their bed, there was a crowd of anxious servants behind him.
He set Roslynn carefully down and looked into her pale, beloved face, ready to apologize for the actions of his brother, himself, the king, for anything that would make her well again. “Roslynn-fy-rhosyn, I—”
“Leave us,” her mother interrupted, taking command as if this were her own household. “My daughter needs to rest.”
His pride subdued by his fear for Roslynn’s health and her mother’s matronly authority, he didn’t argue. “I’ll send the midwife up to you as soon as she arrives.”
While the women clustered around the bed like a flock of worried birds, Madoc slowly left the chamber, his feet heavy.
Uncle Lloyd bustled up to him the moment he entered the hall.
“No need for such dismay, nephew,” his uncle excitedly assured him in Welsh. “Her father says it isn’t enough to threaten her life or the babe’s.”
Madoc realized he hadn’t seen her father since they’d come into the hall. “Where is Lord James?”
The Warlord’s Bride Page 18