“Owww, Emlyn, that hurt. What’d ye do that for?” He gave her a glare.
“Sorry,” she muttered, keeping her eyes on her trencher.
“I am not letting him get away with anything. I will attack when the time is right.” Her father’s voice took on that tone, gruff and undeniably fearsome.
And yet she sensed he was concerned for she watched him closely and noticed his face downcast with worry lines, and his normally shining eyes staid. She knew well enough to stay away from him when he was in a mood.
The rest of the meal passed in utter silence. Emlyn ate very little, but was sated. She caught the gaze of her mother and kept averting her eyes. Her sister, Suzanna, kept her mother busy with talk of garments and such nonsense. Goddess Arianhod love her.
After supper, Emlyn snuck back out of the keep and went to find Branwyn. She’d been able to escape the keep before her mother asked after her or assigned her a mundane task. Branwyn was outside her cottage hanging launder behind the small home she shared with her parents and brother.
Emlyn whistled their secret call to give alert. When Branwyn didn’t respond, she took a rock and tossed it nearby, and finally she turned. Her friend shook her head and Emlyn waved her forward.
“Come,” she whispered loudly.
“Shhh. I cannot. Go away.” Bran flapped her hand at her as if she was swishing away a fly. She hung up the last of the garments and picked up the basket.
Emlyn hastened to her and pulled her arm, causing her to drop the basket and to run alongside her. When they were far enough away from the cottage, Emlyn veered off the path and took the secret trail deep in the woods.
“You’re going to get me in trouble. I vow if I am punished, so shall you be.”
Emlyn flashed a grin. “We need to meet Delyth. She said she would meet us by the waterfall. ‘Tis hot enough for a swim and the lake should be high enough what with the recent rains.” By the time they found their friend, dusk settled on the land. Emlyn couldn’t wait to remove her garments and did so as soon as she reached the large rock by the bank.
The lake was small, but surrounded with lush plant life and a rocky incline. She always enjoyed being there, and rejoiced at the serenity it brought to her. It was rumored to be a magical place, where one’s soul could be soothed and injuries healed. Emlyn believed in such folklore for she’d seen it firsthand. Her grandfather proclaimed to be a close friend to the legendary wizard, Merlin. He’d performed magic of his own and verily impressed her.
Emlyn jumped upon the rock and waited for her friends to join her. “Hasten, come on. I’m not awaiting you much longer.”
Both Branwyn and Delyth added their garments to the pile and joined her on the rock. They clasped hands and jumped in together. The water was the deepest near the large rock and well over their heads. Emlyn rejoiced as the cool water took away the heat and sweat of the day.
She swam toward the waterfall, and ducked her head under the fast-moving streams. “Ah, the cauldron of rebirth.” Emlyn loved this place and its enchanted aura. Pair Dadeni was said to be the place of the Gods and a person could be saved from death if placed in the water. Fortunately, they’d never had to test that forsooth.
Delyth joined her and floated nearby, her long light-brown hair lay upon the top of the water. “It was a fair idea to come. I vow this day was the hottest yet.”
Branwyn came up from beneath the water and used the waterfall to flatten her unruly hair. “I had to do chores all day, except when Emlyn stole me away to practice her archery. I vow this does feel good. But if we get caught—”
Emlyn splashed her friend and laughed when she returned it. “No one knows we come here. Besides, all fear this place. There’s no way we will be caught.”
“What of the army coming? Do you deem they’re close?” Branwyn asked skeptically.
“How do you know about that?” She didn’t consider her father would allow such news to be shared amongst the clan. At least not yet.
“My father was discussing it with my mother at supper. He’s angry that our lord would call on others to fight our war. He deems we can take care of our own troubles.”
Delyth scoffed. “I for one think our lord is doing what’s best. He cares about us and wants to protect us. I’m gladdened they will have help.”
Emlyn narrowed her eyes. How ignorant they were of her father’s true nature. He did care about his people, but his lands and fiefs were more coveted. Her father was ruthless when it came to battle and merciless against his enemies. His only challenge was William Marshall of late. He lived and breathed to one day meet his nemesis face to face.
Emlyn floated in the water and listened to her friends’ chatter.
Delyth scooped water and leaned back against a rock. “I want to be betrothed to someone who looks akin to our leader.”
Emlyn laughed, for her friend had an odd infatuation for her father. “Ewww, really, Del, he’s older than a saint’s bones.”
“I said akin to, not the very man.”
Branwyn chuckled. “My Cranog pleases me and I couldn’t be happier.”
Hearing them speak of betrothals, made her regard her own. She was forced to agree to take Bevan and eventually came to accept him. If he hadn’t died, she’d be married by now and likely spending her days tending to her husband’s needs. What a disdainful life.
She would rather be trussed up like a Michaelmas goose than spend her days in such an existence. If she had to watch one more demonstration on how to properly replace the rushes, how to effectively dye bedding, how to sew a straight line, she’d be waylaid. Her sword and daggers were more coveted than kitchen ladles or sewing needles.
“What are you thinking about? You’re afar from us.” Branwyn snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Come back to us, Emlyn.”
“My sword,” she said, and laughed when both her friends rolled their eyes. “And my goal of joining my father’s soldiers in war.”
Branwyn sent a splash at her and caused her to gain her feet. “Do you deem he’ll let you? He coddles ye and only that. He’ll never allow you to war with his men.”
She splashed Bran back and hastened away before she could retaliate.
“You should be thinking about finding a man,” Delyth said, “like I am.”
“I had a man but alas no longer.”
“Do you deem your father won’t betroth you again? None of us are free. And besides, do you not wish to be with a man? I do. I wish to experience for myself what the ladies speak of. I would that he speaks of beautiful poetry akin to the bards.”
Emlyn scoffed her affront, and muttered under her breath. “I’ve already been with a man, and I could do without such unwanted attentions for the rest of my life.”
Branwyn’s lips firmed and she shook her head. “What say you?”
Emlyn continued, “My father only betrothed me to Bevan to reward him for his honorable service, and he had his choice. I couldn’t reject him, now could I?” She watched her friend’s eyes sadden, and wanted to shove Delyth’s face beneath the water for bringing up the subject. “I’m sorry, Bran, we shouldn’t discuss him. I know how upset you get when we do.”
“Nay, I miss him is all. If you cease discussing Bevan that would make me sadder. He was tolerant of your … interest in weapons,” Branwyn said. “I deem he really loved you.”
She snorted. “Love, verily not? Hah, he wanted a bed partner and I …” Emlyn closed her mouth, for she never told her friends about what she’d done with Bevan. She couldn’t wed another, what with the loss of her precious virginity. No man would be as accepting of her now.
They probably would ask questions, which she wasn’t wont to answer. She didn’t believe there was another man who would be as tolerant as Bevan. The only hope she had to avoid marriage was to stay out of her father’s view, and that was an easy task since he was preoccupied with the recent fracas betwixt him and Marshall.
“I want a man who knows his way around the bed. Aye, I wouldn’t
mind a handsome face either.” Delyth said.
Emlyn laughed. “You would.”
“Tell me that is not preferable to the unkempt men we have to contend with here. I vow they’ve no care of their looks and act as though we should kiss their feet.” Delyth scooped water with her hands and trickled it over her breasts.
“I wish they’d have a care about their appearance,” Branwyn said. “Cranog refuses to remove the whiskers on his face. I told him he must do so before our wedding or he’ll be sharing his own marriage bed. You should’ve seen the look upon his face.”
“Who cares? A man is a man, and they all come with the same equipment.” Emlyn screeched when Delyth splashed her with a good bit of vigor and blinded her with a hefty stream of water.
Branwyn snorted. “Nay they don’t. Haven’t ye seen them bathing? Aye, I’ve seen every shape and size. I vow their equipment is verily varying.”
“Honestly, you two addle me with this talk. I wish not to speak of men’s pricks or their hairy faces.” Emlyn glared, tiring of the subject. “But I agree. A man with a smooth cheek is more appealing. I could do without prosy speech though.” She laughed thinking of such a man. A man akin to that wouldn’t last long in her presence.
Delyth made a face and Branwyn giggled.
She thought she heard a noise nearby and turned to spy the surrounding trees. “Shhh.”
Her friends ceased moving, but the sound of the waterfall was too loud for them to hear anyone or anything if it was close by.
“It must’ve been my imagination.” Emlyn hoped it wasn’t the army that was expected any day, for danger might be lurking in the surrounding forest. She regretted not keeping her sword within reach.
“We shouldn’t have come here this late. We should return.” Emlyn left the water and shook to dispel water droplets from her naked body. She found her sword in the pile of garments and set it upon the rock should she need it. Using her shift, she dried herself and donned her breeches and tunic.
“We’ll have to sneak back inside the walls,” Delyth said.
“The watch will give us away if we enter through the gate. Come, I know an easier way where we’ll not be noticed. No one will see us.”
Chapter Five
James stood in the adjacent woods, captivated by the sight before him.
He swore they were water nymphs, or faeries, or kelpies. Their discussion likewise held him and his comrades enthralled. If someone forced him to move he would have balked, for all he wished at that moment, was to view the naked faerie and bask in her glory.
The lass brazen enough to wear breeches drew his attention the most for even in the dim light of dusk, he could see how red her hair was. He had a fondness for red-haired lassies. They were definitely more willful and always set his blood to heat. Even now, he grew hot from watching her.
Her lovely body was exposed for all to see, and he almost insisted the men accompanying him turn their gazes. Were that he claimed her as his; he’d demand his friends’ chivalry. Alas, she was not his. But sure enough, his mouth hung open when he watched her naked body leave the water.
James wished he could’ve ventured from his hiding place so he could feel her against him, to cover her delectable body, and to ensure for himself that she was real. Never had he seen such breasts. Perfection couldn’t describe them and his body grew rigid.
“James, we’re leaving,” Colm called in a hushed tone.
But James was enraptured and watched the bonny faerie vanish within the shadows of the trees. He kept his eyes fastened on the tree she disappeared behind, hoping she would reappear.
When they’d come upon the lassies, he, Sean, Kenneth, Duff, and Colm, hung back lest they frighten them. James could’ve laughed at their discussion and never reasoned women spoke so openly about men.
He retreated to camp and set his bedroll, knowing this night he’d get little sleep. For his imagination was going to be busy. A frown came, because he realized how unchivalrous he’d been. He wasn’t one to stare so openly at an unclothed woman without her knowing. Such ill-manners unsettled him, and yet a grin came. For at least, he’d be able to dream about her.
Night came and the six-hundred men they’d brought would have to camp outside the walls. Grey left as soon as they’d arrived, and had gone to inform the Iorwerth laird of their arrival. He remarked Iorwerth would know they rallied outside his keep. It was difficult to keep six-hundred men quiet.
James became concerned when his laird insisted on only taking Duff with him to meet with the chieftain. That was well and good for Duff was the most formidable of Grey’s guardsmen. Still, James didn’t know if they’d be well received or if Llywelyn would take offense. They only had their king’s directive and didn’t trust the Wales chieftain would accept their aid. None of the guardsmen who swore to protect their laird were pleased by his orders to await him.
When they returned to camp, their laird still had not returned. James pulled a piece of wood he’d started whittling the day before and set to finish it. By the time the bark was smooth and the form had taken shape, Grey returned.
“We’re to await morning and then will be shown inside. Llywelyn is out of the keep and should be back by then. We might as well get rest.”
Several leaders went to relay the message to the troops awaiting Grey’s orders.
James thought the men would cheer, for Grey had ridden them hard on the journey. They’d taken infrequent rests along the way because he wanted to arrive and be done with their duty as quickly as possible.
James stared up at the night sky, content to lie outside the tent. The stars shown above and the moon was just coming over the tree line. Had they arrived a few days later, they wouldn’t have had the night brightness to afford travel. And he wouldn’t have seen the red-haired faerie.
His dreams throughout the night indeed were that of the faerie. She affected him, more than he imagined she would. He awoke with a stiffness between his legs and a sheen of sweat covering his body.
When morning came, James hastened back to the waterfall. He hoped to glimpse the water sprite again. But alas, he was disappointed. He shed his garments and jumped into the water, hoping to abate the longing that coursed through him. Before long, many of his comrades joined him.
If the lassies could have seen their loch now, they’d know for what they spoke as truth. Many of the men ceased shaving and cared not that they were unkempt on a war mission for most would be covered with blood as soon as the battle began.
That got James to thinking. He jumped from the water, slipped on his braises, and trotted toward camp. There, he found Sean sitting on his tartan next to a small fire outside their tent. He was preparing the morning meal for their close group and grinned at him.
“Where’s your garments?”
James turned and looked back at the loch. “Oh, I left them behind. I need to borrow your blade, for I haven’t one small enough. And mine are still in my satchel.”
“Small enough for what?” Sean reached inside his tunic and pulled out two. One was about three or four inches in length, the other at least eight. James took the smaller one.
“I need to remove my whiskers.” He found a smooth stone with which to sharpen it. After the blade was sharp enough, he began to run it over the hair on his face.
Kenneth laughed his arse off when he saw what he was doing, and fell back upon his tartan. “If I weren’t wed, I’d probably be doing the same thing.”
Colm joined them and noticed their revelry. “What’s the jest?”
“James is shaving,” Kenneth said, continuing to chuckle.
“I deem the lassie’s words affected him.” Sean handed each of the men a bowl, and waited patiently for James to finish before handing one to him.
James took it and balked at the pottage. For it wasn’t as flavorful as their laird’s wife made or the Hume keep’s cook’s. But he ate it anyway, knowing it might be a while before they’d eat again.
“Where’s Grey?” he finally
asked, after setting his bowl aside.
“Angus, take these and wash them. Put them back inside my tent.” The lad Sean had brought along did as he bode and set off with an armful of dirty bowls. To him he said, “He went to meet with Llywelyn and should return soon.”
No sooner had Sean spoken; Grey came traipsing through the encampment. He stopped to speak to a few of the men he passed. He didn’t appear displeased. When he reached them, he took the bowl Sean offered.
“I’m to bring my closest guardsmen into the keep. We’re to meet to discuss tactics. Later this day, our men will join with his in training. We’ll do so for the next week, mayhap a fortnight. I will discuss Marshall’s proposal when we sit down.” Grey watched him closely and raised a brow.
“You haven’t told him yet?” James felt Grey’s eyes on him and shook off the meaning of his gaze, for Grey wouldn’t be forthcoming. Either a plan formulated in Grey’s mind, or he was hesitant to tell Iorwerth of Marshall’s demand.
“There hasn’t been time yet. I will soon enough.”
James hastened to retrieve his clothes by the loch, and he quickly donned his tunic and belted his tartan. Once he’d secured the belt, he sheathed his sword, and rubbed a good amount of water over his face. For he’d slept little and when he had, the lass effectuated him to a state of arousal. He may as well have stayed awake for as much rest as he got.
He ran back to the awaiting guardsmen and when everyone was ready, Grey led them to the fortification. Many stayed behind, and only Grey’s personal guard and ten troop leaders went along for the meeting.
On approach of the fortification, James eyed the castle enshrouded by a heavy morning mist. Its location appeared strategic given that the garrison was able to block any movement into the heart of the fortification. The high round towers looked sturdy and were at least thirty feet in height. The surrounding wall at least eight feet thick and would verily take any attack and sustain its ability to protect.
In Love With A Warrior (Gunn Guardsman (Book 4)) Page 5