What heritage? This lonely cottage by the Irish Sea? A smuggler’s den in a sea cave? The name…Rees? What did it matter what material thing came with the right to be called Rees? For the first time in his life, he felt…complete. And it was a revelation.
Ioan slowly made his way to a large sea chest which sat at the end of his cot. With a groan, he knelt and opened the chest. It squeaked as though it hadn’t been opened since it last touched the boards of a ship. Ioan shifted a few pieces of clothing and withdrew what was beneath them: a small ornate, dark wood box. The intricate scrollwork on the lid made it look almost like a lady’s jewelry box—which Robbie had seen and stolen plenty enough in his life. But why would a once feared and dastardly smuggler and pirate own a lady’s jewelry box?
With another groan, the man stood up, clutching the box to his chest as if life could be found inside it. Opening the lid, Ioan pulled a tattered, worn, yellow scrap of parchment from the box. He stared down at it, his gaze a thousand leagues away.
“She wrote this…and I kept it. I do not know why I kept it. It only tore out my heart every time I read it. But…it was the only thing of her I had left.”
Sighing, he turned and held the parchment out to Robbie. “Take it. Read it.”
Robbie took the paper; it felt like well-worn leather. Oft held and handled. Carefully, he unfolded it then peered down at the faded words written with a delicate hand.
Ioan,
I have borne a son. I have named him Ioan, after the man I loved…and lost. He is the very image of you. But he will not be you. I will raise him to honor life and truth, and to be the man I thought you were when we wed. But you are no longer the man you once were. You are now consumed with the love of money and danger. The night you killed your own father was the night I knew the man you were had been killed alongside him.
For the benefit of our son, I have remarried, and though you and I are still bound by the bonds of the church, I had to tell my new protector that you had died. Our son will carry his name, as will I. He will provide a home for us, all we could ever need, and I am thankful for that.
I love you… I will always love you. But I could not remain with you. I hope you understand. I had to leave to protect our child from the life you would press upon him. I write to tell you of him in the hopes that one day, if by God’s grace you repent of all the wrong you have done, we will all be reunited in Heaven.
- Lady Ilone Bowlin, Countess of Heathcombe
His grandmother…
“If you had this letter, why did you not look for her? Why did you not come for my father, give him your name and his birthright?” Robbie couldn’t understand how a father could just let his wife and son fall through his grasp. It was like allowing the most precious gems to be stolen away by a lesser thief. “Surely you could have told her you renounced your ways and wanted her back.”
Ioan’s eyes flashed, his nostrils flaring. “Do you think me a fool, boy? Do you not think I wanted that? To have my beloved back, to hold my son? To grow the family I had wanted from the very beginning?”
Robbie could hear the dejection…the agony in Ioan’s voice.
“You found her, didn’t you?” Robbie asked, his heart aching for the man before him.
Ioan’s shoulders slumped. He sighed, nodding. “Aye, I found them.”
“But you did not take them back with you.” Slowly, realization flicked on in his thoughts. “You loved her too much to make her leave the comfort she’d found to come back to…”
“Be a blasted Rees,” his grandfather finished. Suddenly, Robbie understood.
Being a Rees may not have been a choice, but Ilone wanted it to be for her son. She wanted him to be able to choose another life, one where he could live without the fear of being captured or hanged.
His father had chosen to be a knight—a great knight, one of the fierce and renown Homme du Sang—but that life crumbled to pieces… Because he’d chosen to chase the name of the man he thought had ruined his chance at being something more than a fatherless son.
Oh father… If you had but known the truth…
“I did kill him, you know,” Ioan said, turning Robbie’s thoughts back to him.
“Who?”
“My father.”
A ripple of uneasiness collided with the need to know more. “Why?”
Ioan settled onto the edge of the bed, he legs practically falling out from beneath him. What a great weight he must carry…
“He had something I wanted,” he answered matter-of-factly. “He was the commander of a fleet of sloops. He wanted to use them to plunder the English ships carrying goods to France and Spain, but…”
“You wanted something more?”
Ioan nodded, sadly. “Aye. I wanted more than just to plunder and bathe in the gold of other men. I wanted my own gold. I wanted to steal the goods, sell them, and create a paradise of my own making, right here in Port Eynon Bay. It would rival Tortuga—we could have been the kings of the Irish Sea, makers of our own destinies…”
“So what happened?” Robbie asked, staring down at the man who wore neither gold or gems, but was wearing a threadbare tunic over well-worn leather breeches. He’d gone from king to commoner. But why? How?
“Ilone happened.”
Shocked at the answer, Robbie couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. “Grandmother?”
“Aye…she saw what I had done, was disgusted by it and my quest for power… She begged me to reconsider, to help her build a true home for her and the babe she carried.” He chuckled mirthlessly, raising his arms. “I built this cottage for her. We were to begin our lives together here… But… It was not enough for her. She wanted the security, the confidence of knowing that our child would not grow up to be greedy and terrible enough to kill his own father.”
“So she fled,” Robbie interjected.
Ioan sighed. “Aye.”
“And you let her.”
“Aye.”
“But what of your kingdom of smugglers and pirates? What of the Ganwyd o’r Mor?
“After she left, I realized that…without my queen, I was nothing more than a pauper playing at nobility. Certainly, I raided, plundering ships and smuggling the goods, but there was no joy in it for me any longer. Soon, I gave the mantle of brenin to my eldest nephew, Saban.”
“And so he leads in your stead.”
“As well as he can with what little is left.”
The scrape of the door behind him, reminded him that he hadn’t ventured to this cottage alone, but before he could turn and acknowledge Glynnis, Ioan stiffened, his face growing pale.
“Glynnis,” Ioan murmured, clearly taken aback by seeing her there.
Robbie turned to see Glynnis standing in the doorway, her hair whipping in the wind, and her face expressionless. As with the other Rees, his woman certainly had unresolved enmity with the patriarch.
“Ioan,” Glynnis said curtly.
“Please, come in, have a seat. Warm yourself.” Ioan indicated the seat by the fire, the one he’d vacated, but Glynnis’s gaze never left Ioan’s face.
“I promise you, I will not bite.” Ioan offered a lopsided, clumsy smile, almost as if he’d forgotten how.
Glynnis huffed, her adorable nose thrusting into the air most defiantly, before she stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her.
Chapter Twelve
Glynnis couldn’t take her eyes of the shell of a man before her. Lord, but the years had not been kind to the great Ioan Rees, Brenin of the Ganwyd o’r Mor. The father of her late husband…a man she would much rather forget. But how? How did one go about forgetting such betrayal? Not only had he promised faithfulness and to cherish her for always, he’d promised her a life of leisure and comfort. None of those promises meant a thing to him. Lying was just as easy to William as pissing. Not less than a week after speaking their vows in the little chapel in Port Eynon, he’d found himself in the bed of another man’s wife. And had been killed.
“You
are just as beautiful as you ever were, Glynnis. I am glad to see you well,” Ioan murmured, his eye glowing.
She huffed. “No thanks to your brood of degenerates,” she snapped, then immediately regretted it. Her gaze flicked to Robbie, his long, black hair, his flashing green eyes. He was a Rees…just like them. But not like them.
Memories of last night, lying beside him, beneath him, her body singing with the pleasure he gave. His hands, gentle yet skilled at strumming her, playing her heart and soul like a lyre. But it wasn’t just the pleasure he gave…it was the way he smiled at her—and not his cocky, wicked smile—the smile of a man who actually…cared. He’d held her close to him, running his fingers along her arms, lending her his strength…his warmth. Aye, they’d given each other pleasure—pleasure greater than William had ever given her—but beneath it all there was something…precious. Nay, Robbie Rees wasn’t like the other Reeses. He was a far better man than any of them could ever hope to be.
Swallowing down the burn of emotion, Glynnis crossed her arms and planted her feet, staunchly refusing to step one foot further into the devil’s den…though tired and worn he appeared, he was still a wicked and dangerous man.
A lamb looks more dangerous than he does, her mind muttered.
“I am sorry,” Ioan declared and Glynnis felt the air whoosh from her body.
Stunned wasn’t a strong enough word. She couldn’t have possibly heard him correctly.
“I see I have surprised you,” he spoke again, and Glynnis nodded, not trusting her voice to not tremble. Ioan sighed then offered a tremulous grin. “I mean it. I am sorry.”
“For what?” She pushed the words past the constriction in her throat.
“For William.”
She snorted. “What about him?”
From the corner of her eye, Glynnis could see Robbie stiffen, his shoulders straightening. If she dared to look him in the eye now, what would she see?
“I was a terrible father to him… After Ilone left, I cared nothing for anyone. Even my own sons. I had met William’s mother years after Ilone disappeared, and in a moment of weakness, I sired a son. Another son. But not the son I truly wanted.”
A bitterness filled her heart. How could a man deny his own son?
“That is despicable,” she said, scowling.
“I know that, and it is too late to apologize to William…but I can still apologize to you. I was not the best example of a husband. I could not show my own son what it meant to be a true man, a man of integrity and faithfulness. William was weak, driven by his lusts. Like me, he cared nothing for a family. He only took what he wanted. He wanted you. I should have warned you about him, about his hunger for comely maids, but I had hoped your love could change him…just as Ilone could have changed me…if I had not driven her away.”
Suddenly, the anger disappeared, replaced by an unutterable sadness for the man before her. He truly was a broken, hollow man.
“William did not deserve you,” Ioan intoned, the brightness of truth shining on his face. And Glynnis felt something within her crack. For five years, she’d allowed her bitterness at William’s betrayal turn her into a sour-hearted widow. It was clear now…she’d blamed herself for William’s wandering eye. She’d believed that, maybe if she’d been a better woman, maybe if she’d given William what he needed, he never would have left her to lie with another. Maybe he would still be alive.
“Nay. He did not,” she agreed, a warmth filling her. William had been just as broken as his father, even before he’d seduced her into marriage. There was nothing she could have done to prevent what happened.
“And you,” Ioan said, looking to Robbie. “Do you deserve her?” Glynnis turned to look upon him. He was standing, his eyes pinned to her, the color flickering from dark storm to calm seas.
“Nay…I do not.” His voice was low, a rumbling whisper, and it tore her heart out.
Ioan peered between then, his aged face growing ever more animated. For the first time since she’d arrived, the man smiled brightly, happily, his eyes twinkling.
“Ah…I am glad to have you here, both of you.” Rising to stand beside the bed, Ioan opened his arms to them both. “Come, sit. Let us sup. I have mutton stew and bread—freshly baked. I baked it myself.”
Wary but curious and somewhat intrigued by the shift in Ioan’s demeanor, Glynnis sucked in a breath and offered the man she once despised a friendly smile.
“Do you have any honey to go with that bread?”
Robbie pulled Glynnis into his chest, his arms tight around her. He told himself it was to keep her from falling from the horse as she slept, but the truth of it was…he liked having her in his arms. And not just when he was pleasuring her, hearing her moans of ecstasy and filling her with his desire. He liked holding her afterward, when the darkness descended and she slumbered…just as she did now.
And it was an utterly disarming realization; that he would actually enjoy something that was more than just the tupping and the leaving. Typically, he would find his pleasure—ensure the woman of hers, of course, he wasn’t a lame cock—and then leave before she finished groaning in satiated delight. But…with Glynnis. It was different. It was addicting, the desire to feel her warm body next to his, to hear her softly breathing, to know that she had given something to him that she’d kept for herself for so long.
God, but he was smitten with this woman, and he had no idea what to do about it.
As they neared the copse of trees where they were to tether the horse, he gently nuzzled Glynnis awake. She startled but then relaxed back into him, humming softly.
Heaven.
Readjusting his suddenly awkward position, he cleared his throat. “We are here, it is only a short walk back to Dwyn Twll.”
She shook her head but said nothing. He dismounted, sliding to the ground easily, then tied Beggar to the nearest tree before turning to help Glynnis. She held out her arms to grip tight to his shoulders, and allowed herself to be picked up and pulled into his embrace. Chest to chest, they stood staring at one another, their breathing uneven. It was dark so he couldn’t make out the emotion in her eyes, but he could tell from how she melted against him that she was just as twisted up as he was. He ached to kiss her, to taste her passion on his tongue, to lap at her womanhood and feast on her sounds of bliss.
Here is not the place, his logical thoughts finally surfaced, forcefully pushing aside the ravenous, wicked beast, growling to claim its woman. With a heavy sigh, he released her, letting her feet settle on the damp earth.
She let out an answering sigh and ran a trembling hand over her hair—a nervous movement no doubt. It was a rare sight that, to see Glynnis Rees nervous. He wanted to howl into the darkening sky.
“Come,” he said instead, taking her hand in his to lead her to the hidden opening in the cliffside. She followed him, silent, her hand loose in his. He knew she was thinking, he could feel the tension thrumming through her body. But how did a man so unused to speaking to woman of his thoughts and feelings ask the woman about her thoughts…perhaps her feelings…about him?
“Watch your head,” he instructed before ducking his head and shoulders to fit inside the squat passage that led to another passage that led to another passage before depositing them into another passage that would take them to the main cavern. “Remember what Lucian said about this passage…it is slippery here,” he said, just as she lurched forward. He turned and caught her before she could fall.
Her breaths puffing against his face, she stiffened then murmured, “Aye, I remember now.” She pulled herself away. “Thank you.”
Fighting down the urge to shake her and make her tell him what had hardened her toward him, he simply offered, “My pleasure to catch such a lovely woman.” He meant it, but he knew how it must sound to her, like a feckless, flirtatious comment, empty and oft used. And, to be honest, he probably had used it with other women, but he actually meant it now.
Damn! Could he ever say or do something with Glynnis that wo
uldn’t come across as cheap or hollow? Nay, for you are cheap and hollow…
Sighing, he turned and continued on, his hand now bereft of hers…his fingers tingling with the desire for his flesh to touch hers once again. But he dared not thrust his attention on her…not now when there was something amiss.
As they finally entered the main cavern, they found it empty. No doubt the others were taking care of their parts of Saban’s plan. And, once again, he was reminded that he may look like a Rees, but he was still as welcome as a lone wolf in the pack’s den.
His cottage, the one Saban had assigned him, was nearest the shallow lagoon where they moored the flat-bottomed boats they used to come and go. The lagoon was sans boats, which meant he’d been correct to assume they’d gone to prepare and plan…without him.
He refused to give a moment’s thought to why that bothered him.
“Where have they gone?” Glynnis asked, her voice husky and heavy behind him. He closed his eyes, letting her voice roll through him. He opened his eyes and turned, an expression of nonchalance on his face—at least he hoped he appeared relaxed rather than wary. She made him wary, for he had no idea where to tread with her that wouldn’t lead to her leaving and him having to chase after her.
Because he would always come for her. He knew that now. No matter what happened with the Rees, he would not leave Glynnis behind. She would fight, probably claw and spit and bite, and after their bout of fierce lovemaking, he’d convince her to come to England with him. They could start a new life there. Together.
The magnitude of those thoughts would be felt for generations to come, but he couldn’t care about that. Glynnis was his. And he craved her more than light and laughter and…life.
“Saban is with Lucian and Brendan, plotting first strike. Or, at least that’s what I assume…” Robbie answered, aware that Glynnis’s expression was flickering from cool and calm to heated and frantic.
Now is the time…
“We are alone, now, Glynnis…” He let his voice drop and a low, deep, rumble escaped his throat. His chest tight, his body taut, he waited to see if his woman would sense just how much he needed her.
The Ravishing Rees (Pirates of Britannia Book 10) Page 8