by Regan Walker
Alex waited for a lull in the king’s shouted orders in which he could broach the subject of his intention to formally make Merewyn his wife. But given William’s current state of mind, he decided to tread carefully, speaking only of his dislike of the choice of Lady Adèle.
“My Lord, might I have a moment of your time?”
Still brooding, William gestured Alex to the side of the large chamber where he had been attending his barons. “What is it?” he snapped.
“Sire, I know you had in mind a match between Vermandois’ daughter and me, but I would prefer another.”
“Another? You would risk my displeasure by rejecting a Norman bride I have proffered?”
Alex opened his mouth to speak but the king cut him off.
“I must have my lands in Normandy tied to England, sir wolf. Remember that. If you care not for the Lady Adèle, I will find another. But I will see you wed to Normandy. Doubt it not! Now, leave my sight lest I consider you out of favor.”
Alex bowed and turned away from the king’s wrath. It had not been a good time to try and gain William’s approval. Finding Sir Nigel, Earl Hugh and the other barons speaking together, he bid them goodbye. “My men and I are departing for Talisand.”
Ranulf Flambard inquired about Merewyn. Alex shrugged him off with a scowl.
“So, the Black Wolf disdains my interest in the girl? You cannot keep them all for yourself, Sir Alex.”
“And you cannot have that one at all, Ranulf!”
In reply, Ranulf just laughed.
Relieved to see the back of the king’s advisor, Alex and his men turned their horses toward home. A few hours later, they were free of the black mood of the king and sharing the laughter of men who are glad to be alive and returning from the brink of war to the people they love.
Only one face lingered in Alex’s mind as he led his men home: A slender archer whose blue-hazel eyes beckoned. To have her by his side, he would find a way to defy his king.
CHAPTER 13
“Where is she?” Alex asked Lora. He had searched the archery field, Merewyn’s chamber and the stable. Finally, more than a little annoyed, he had come to the hall. Though it would be hours before the evening meal, he was nearly frenetic.
Lora returned his gaze. In her eyes, he detected unease. “Welcome home, Sir Alex.” Then, lowering her eyes, in a soft voice she said, “Merewyn is not here.”
His blood began to boil. “What do you mean, ‘not here’? Where is she?” he demanded.
She raised her head, her dark eyes full of regret. “She left Talisand yesterday, we believe with Owain. I did not see her go.”
It was not a name Alex knew, but it sounded Welsh. “Who is this Owain and why would Merewyn leave Talisand with him?”
Lora’s attention shifted to the few servants who were cleaning the tables.
“Come,” he said, “we can speak outside.” In the bailey, he urged Lora to a more secluded place, scattering chickens as he strode across the hard earth. “Now, tell me who Owain is and what happened.”
Brushing a strand of dark hair from her face, Lora took a deep breath and let it out before responding. “While you and the others were gone, a man from Wales came to see Merewyn. Owain is a prince of Powys and nephew to Rhodri. She and Owain were friends in Wales.”
“She left with this Owain?”
Lora nodded.
How could she leave me? Did my love mean nothing? He had promised to return, assuming he survived. Why would she not wait for him? Given what they had shared, what they had vowed, he could not understand how she would leave and with another man.
“Tell me about this Welshman. I would know more.”
As he and Lora left the bailey and walked toward the river, the wind stirred the dry leaves that had fallen to the path. The days of autumn were dwindling.
He listened as Merewyn’s friend described the archer, Rhodri’s nephew, who had taught her to shoot from her pony.
“Did she have tender feelings for him?” He had to know but he dreaded the answer.
“As far as I could tell, she considered him only a friend. But I think he would have her be more. I could see it in the way he looked at her. Some of the men believed him a spy for the Welsh, but he asked no questions about the men, where you had gone or the king’s plans. He spent all of his time with Merewyn, even helping her teach the children archery.”
“She said nothing to you about leaving?”
Lora shook her head. “Nay.”
“But you are her good friend!”
“I do not understand it myself, Alex. It came as a complete surprise. You might ask Jamie about Owain. I think they had a conversation or two. In your absence, Jamie was very protective of Merewyn. He was not pleased when he discovered she was gone.”
Alex took his mail to the armory and washed the dirt from his face. He’d been covered with more dirt than he realized. Donning a fresh tunic, he went looking for his father’s captain. He found him in the practice yard sparring with one of the house knights. When the match ended, Alex signaled to Jamie, who sheathed his sword and came toward him.
Jamie ran his fingers through his curly hair and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I had heard you and the men were back and the king has made peace with the Scots. A good result.”
“ ’Tis true, but not why I have sought you out.” Alex was impatient to glean as much information as he could about the woman he had thought of every day he was gone. “Lora said Merewyn has left with some Welshman. Do you know anything of it?”
He hesitated before answering. “A bit.” Folding his arms over his chest, Jamie said, “He arrived one day about a fortnight after you left. I am certain Merewyn did not expect him, but she seemed quite happy to see him. She knew him from her time in Wales.”
“That much I have already ascertained.”
Jamie’s blue eyes were in earnest. “He said he came for her. Told me that when I questioned his purpose in being here.”
“And while he was among you… What passed between them?”
The captain uncrossed his arms and again ran his hand through his hair. “They practiced archery in the afternoons, played chess in the evenings and I occasionally saw them riding their ponies together. He has one much like hers, only gray.”
“Did she say anything about leaving with him?”
“I do not think so. Certainly not to me. Last night at the evening meal, your lady mother noted Merewyn’s absence and asked about her. No one knew where Merewyn was and a search disclosed she was not among us. Then we realized Owain was gone, too, and both their ponies were missing from the stable.”
Alex frowned, speaking his thoughts aloud. “I cannot believe she would leave without saying goodbye to my mother and her friend, Lora.” Or to me. “Merewyn has made a life here. Why would she go back to Wales?”
“I doubt she would want me to tell you, but I believe she left for you.”
“For me?” he asked, incredulous. “Why, when I want her to stay?”
“Because she believed you might be tempted to disobey King William if she stayed. The affection between you two was clear to all who had seen you together.”
“I will not wed the woman William has chosen for me,” Alex said forcefully.
“Would you defy your king to wed Merewyn, a Norman’s bastard?”
“Do not call her that! She had no choice in the matter of her birth. And, yes, I would defy William to have her.” I have defied my king to have her.
Jamie smiled. “The wolf defends his chosen mate. I am glad to see it.”
Alex scowled, impatient to be going. “I must find her.” The wind stirred in the trees, drawing his attention to the branches half-bared of leaves. Soon the coming winter would prevent him from crossing the mountains of Wales to find her.
“Take Rory and Guy with you,” Jamie counseled. “Wales has many archers.”
* * *
Jamie watched as Alex strode back to the hall, his long legs eating up the ground. I
t was at such moments the son reminded him of the father. He had no doubt Alex had gone to advise Talisand’s lord of his plans and would soon be summoning his two friends.
He had provoked Alex enough to reveal his possessive feelings toward Merewyn and yet preserved unbroken his promise to her to say nothing about the babe.
Alex was a strong knight who handled himself well in battle. Mayhap he could reclaim Merewyn without killing the Welsh prince. ’Twould be a good thing because to kill Rhodri’s nephew would be messy and neither Lady Serena nor Merewyn would like it.
Merewyn’s leaving without saying goodbye had dismayed Lora and concerned Lady Serena. Both were women close to Jamie’s heart. One was like an older sister, having raised him after he’d lost both his parents. And the other he intended to make his wife. Merewyn loved both of them. Leaving Talisand without saying a word was not something she would have done, which caused him to wonder, had she gone willingly?
* * *
The day grew colder. The sky turned a pale gray, hovering, it seemed, just above her head as Merewyn reached up with both hands, her wrists still tied together, and pulled her hood down farther over her head. She huddled beneath the woolen cloak, a gift from Lady Serena. Made from the wool of Talisand’s sheep, it would keep her warm even in the snow she believed would fall before they arrived in Wales.
It was not unknown for snow to fall at the end of October. She remembered once when it had descended on Talisand at that time. The sheep had stood in the meadow looking perplexed, blinking the white flakes from their eyes, as she and Lora, then young girls, had erupted in laughter.
What must Lora think of her sudden departure? And Lady Serena? Surely they knew her well enough to believe she would never leave without some word of explanation. But they had seen her with Owain and must be wondering. She did not want them to worry. And what would Alex think? Had he returned by now? Was he hale and whole? She had once thought to leave before he returned but now she saw how wrong that would have been.
She peeked out of her hood to see Owain riding in front of her on his gray pony. He, too, had donned a cloak, brown like his hair and most of his clothing.
She was relieved that he had not pressed her to ride long days or at a great pace. She did not fear for the babe. Serena had always ridden into the early months of carrying a child, but in the afternoons, Merewyn sometimes felt queasy until she had nibbled on some bread. The frequent stops Owain made had allowed her the time she needed to eat and relieve herself and, for that, she was grateful.
“You have been kind, Owain.”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “And why would I not be kind to the woman I expect to marry?”
“Owain…”
“I know what you have said, but the passage of time may change your thinking on the matter.”
When the path widened, he pulled Ceinder’s reins, drawing her nearer so that they rode abreast.
“We would do well together, you and I,” he said. “Rhodri and Fia would be pleased were I to take you as my wife. I would raise the child as my own, of that you need have no concern.”
She inclined her head to glimpse his mouth, twitching up in a grin.
“In time,” he said, “you might even learn to love me.”
Merewyn was not at all convinced one could “learn to love” someone, particularly when she had given her heart to another, but she was comforted in the knowledge that Owain did not mean her ill. He might have forced her to leave Talisand, but she did not think he would force her to his bed. He had not even tried to kiss her. But his long lingering looks told her he wanted to.
“Where will we seek shelter this night?” she asked. They had made camp in the woods the night before but the weather had been more favorable then.
“I know a place. ’Tis not far.”
* * *
By the time the horses were rested and fed and Alex had packed a few things he would need, Rory and Guy had returned to the hall and people were gathering for the evening meal. He had told his mother of his plan to go after Merewyn and thus any feast should be delayed. Maggie had urged them to eat, even ordering the servants to bring their food to the table early.
Alex was anxious to be going. Only a few hours of daylight remained.
When he told his father of his intention to bring Merewyn back, the reply had been terse. “I see. Well, best be about it then.”
The meal was served and, having been nearly starved for a month, Alex and his fellow knights dove into their trenchers piled high with salmon and roast duck.
“Eat hearty, lads,” said Maggie coming to their table. “Ye look like half o’ yerselves.”
Alex smiled up at her. The kindhearted housekeeper worried over them like a mother hen. Rory might be her grandson, but she had coddled the three of them since the day they were born.
He was enjoying the taste of home and the enticing smells of the roast duck and the herbs rising from the salmon, but all the while he ate, he kept thinking of Merewyn suffering the cold night as she traveled the same road they had taken to Chester. What did she have to eat and where did she stay? He hoped this Owain was a noble sort, else Alex would carve out his heart, no matter he was Rhodri’s nephew.
Alex had wanted to depart after they finished the meal but in between bites, Rory argued they should leave on the morrow. “They will stop for the night and so must we.”
“Aye,” Alex conceded. “ ’Tis probably best to ride with the dawn when we can see the path before us.”
“I agree,” put in Guy, washing the last of his duck down with his wine. “I like not riding over rough ground when ’tis dark. We did enough of that with William and the only result was some lame horses.”
Alex was glad his companions had been willing to go to Wales, given they had only just returned home and there was great risk because of the animosity between the two countries. He wanted Merewyn back, safe in his arms. If they rode fast, he might be able to catch up with Owain before he took Merewyn over the Welsh Marches. Once in Wales, three Norman knights would be an easy target, dead before he could say his family was friend to Rhodri. Facing one skilled longbowman was enough. He had no desire to face hundreds.
“All right,” he reluctantly agreed, “but we leave at first light.”
* * *
They were not far from Chester when Owain pulled rein and turned to face her. “We will stop here. There’s a stream just over there where we can water the horses.” He came and lifted her down from her pony and untied her hands, which he always did when she needed to drink, eat or relieve herself. She had changed to her archer’s clothing the first night because the clothing was more comfortable and less unwieldy.
It was the same trip Merewyn had made in the summer with Lady Serena, Alex and the others, but now the days seemed much longer. She was weary and cold. Owain had told her they would not enter Chester but would cross Afon Dyfrdwy, the Welsh name for the River Dee, at a point west of the city.
Determined to wash the dirt from her face, she walked with Owain to the stream where he led the horses. As Ceinder drank, Merewyn bent down on one knee, threw back her hood and scooped water in her hands, splashing it onto her face. The water refreshed her. She lifted another handful to her mouth to drink.
Her mind raced with thoughts of what was to come. They would soon be in Wales. Would Rhodri bring her back to Talisand if she asked? He had done so once before when war threatened. Mayhap he would do so again. At the very least, she could send Alex a message.
She rose from the ground, brushed the loose dirt from her cloak and walked to Ceinder. Stroking the pony’s neck, she said, “You have done well, my friend.” The mare raised her head and nuzzled Merewyn’s hand. “I’ve no oats for you, but soon.”
Owain stood nearby watching his pony drink, one hand on his bow tied to his saddle next to hers. “Come here and I will retie your hands. It won’t be long until we leave the road for Wales and then ’tis just a few days to my home.”
“You
are taking me to your home, not Rhodri’s?” she asked, startled by the news.
Before he could answer, a familiar voice caused her to whip her head around to peer into the dense growth of alder trees some distance away. “You take what is mine, Welshman! Let her go.”
Alex! She thrilled to hear his voice, to know he was here, but how had he found her?
Owain grabbed his bow and two arrows and shoved her behind him. “Who speaks?” he asked, his eyes narrowed on the woods as he nocked the first arrow.
Alex stepped from the trees. “Alexander of Talisand. I come for Merewyn.”
Merewyn’s heart leapt to her throat. He was here! He was alive and, to all appearances, whole. Oh, Alex.
“Ah, the Red Wolf’s cub,” Owain said, holding his bow before him, his fingers on the string. “You shall not have her. You do not deserve her. I am taking her to Wales where she will become my wife.”
“That would be rather difficult,” Alex said, tossing Merewyn one of his rare smiles. “I may not deserve her, but she is already my wife and what I claim, I keep. She will never be yours.”
Merewyn inhaled sharply, shocked by his words. Did he say them to convince Owain to let her go?
“You lie, Norman!” Owain spit out.
Alex drew his sword, the sound of the steel sliding from the sheath loud in her ears. He stepped forward, his sword grasped firmly in his hand. He must look this way in battle as he confronted the enemy, his stance sure, his sword raised and his dark presence threatening.
Owain did not wait for him to lunge. He pulled back the string and loosed the arrow. It hissed through the air and sank into the calf of Alex’s right leg. Alex stumbled back but did not fall.
“Alex!” she screamed, starting toward him.
Owain held her back with his arm.
She pushed at him. “You shot him!”
Alex staggered. From his mouth came a feral snarl, a sound more like an animal than a man. His gray eyes became like shards of granite as he glared at Owain. “Have you never heard, Welshman, a wounded wolf is more dangerous? I asked you to give me what is mine. Now I will kill you before I take her.”