And now…she saw too much. She saw the way Robbie stood, alone, in a room of armed murderers and thieves, his body taut, and her heart racing. She flicked her gaze to Saban, who was grinning wolfishly.
“If what you say about your father and grandmother is true, you are most certainly a Rees.”
“What is this about then?” the one she remembered as Brendan asked, his luminous blue eyes flashing beneath the black slashes of his brows. “Who is this man, and why have you brought him here?”
Saban raised his hand, pointing at Robbie as if accusing him of a crime. “This man is Robbie. And as I said, he is Daid’s grandson…long-lost and now found.”
“Is he really a cousin?” Rose asked, standing from where she’d been sitting, cross-legged, on a crate. Her long, fiery hair was woven into a thick braid that touched the top of her arse. Her piercing green gaze swept over Robbie, tarrying for too long on his bare chest, before she flicked her gaze to Saban. “Tis a shame. He is a fine-looking mouthful…” she purred, and something dark and hot prickled along Glynnis’s back.
“Give over, Rose,” Lucia snapped, coming to stand beside her equally beautiful cousin. “You have had enough mouthfuls to choke an ox.”
The room filled with snorts and smothered laughter—smothered because Rose was as fiery as her hair, and more than willing to slide her dagger from her belt and slice each and every one of them in a most vital place.
Rose rolled her shoulders and smirked. “Aye, I have. But one more would do no harm.”
“It would if he were family,” Lucian pointed out unnecessarily. Lucian and Lucia were twins. Both were tall, lithe, possessed of angelic features, with long blonde hair, eyes the color of the open fields in early spring, and a particularly cold and seemingly heartless disposition. But Glynnis knew better; Lucia was as warm and compassionate as anyone…she just had little patience for those who would harm an innocent. She’d heard stories of Lucia dispatching four men—single-handedly—because they’d dared to attack a widow and her young daughter within Lucia’s hearing.
In some ways, Glynnis envied Lucia’s strength and single-minded focus…but, in other ways, she pitied Lucia, who had no choice but to become like the rest of her family. Cold, heartless, and menacing.
So unlike Robbie… Not once since rescuing Robbie had she sensed any of the simmering nefariousness she felt oozing from the other men. Even in his slumber, there was something about him that pulled at her. She would never admit how long she’d sat beside the bed, staring at him, wondering who he was and why she was so compelled. Glynnis cast a cautious yet critical gaze at her late husband’s cousins. Brendan, Lucian, and Saban… Each man was willing to cut down anyone who got in their way. But Robbie…he’d been blazing heat and wicked smiles and…desire. Certainly, he was dangerous—to her sanity.
“He is the son of Daid’s first wife, Ilone,” Saban announced.
Robbie flinched at hearing the name but he said nothing.
“She’s the one who ran away and got herself tied to some lord in England,” Brendan added, crossing his arms. “She abandoned the family.”
Lucia clicked her tongue. “You read the letter, you know why she left. I would not blame her if I were you,” Lucia sneered. “Any woman you tricked into marrying you would more than likely do the same.”
Brendan didn’t seem bothered by Lucia’s jab. He simply shrugged and continued. “She left and bore our Daid’s son. She stole his heir.”
“And he had a son… Looks like Daid. Has his eyes. That dark and devilish air about him,” Rose said, practically sighing. “Tis a shame.”
“Must you speak about me as if I were not standing right here?” Robbie broke in, his deep voice sharp with annoyance and wariness.
“Ilone robbed me of the chance to know my cousin,” Rose said, ignoring Robbie’s snide remark. “Robbed him of his birthright,” Rose intoned, and Robbie flinched again.
What must he be thinking? To learn such things from people who knew naught about being gentle… His mind must be reeling. The need to take Robbie by the hand and comfort him exploded within her, shaking her right to her core. Where had that come from? Robbie was a Rees, which meant he should mean nothing to her. She should just wash her hands of them and leave Dwyn Twll and never look back.
But the thought of never seeing Robbie again sliced through her. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, desperate to quiet her heart.
Saban snorted. “What birthright? When Daid abandoned us, he left nothing but an empty sea cave and a busted sloop. I was the one who rebuilt—stronger than ever. And I will be damned if I let some interloper take from me what is mine.” The air thrummed with tension and danger, and Glynnis took a step back from the group. She was terrified—but not for her. She shivered, the chill from the storm blew through the opening in the rock wall behind them, licking along her wet limbs.
“I am not a Rees,” Robbie growled. “And even if I were, I would want nothing to do with this,”—he raised his arms, which flexed enticingly—“whatever the hell this is. I may be a thief, but I rob carriages not ships.”
“A thief is a thief is a thief, Cefnder,” Brendan drawled, grinning. “What does it matter if it be on land or sea? Besides, the sea is in your blood. You would have ended up here anyway.”
Just then, a blast of cold air barreled down the tunnel and into the room, slamming into Glynnis who was still sodden. She gasped, her body shaking, her teeth clacking against each other.
“Enough of this,” Lucia snapped. “We can discuss this later. Right now,” she walked toward Glynnis, her eyes softening, “we need to get Glynnis into something dry.” Lucia came to a stop in front of Glynnis, blocking her view of Robbie. “Have you eaten?” she asked.
Had she eaten? Yes…the fish stew. But only a few bites. How did one eat with the demon of desire sitting naked and alluring in her bed?
“I could eat,” Glynnis finally answered, suddenly desperate to leave the main cavern and hide away where she could cut the invisible binds pulling her toward Robbie. If she couldn’t see him…she couldn’t want him.
What a liar and fool you are!
Ignoring that shrill inner voice, Glynnis followed Lucia into one of the cottages furthest away from where she’d entered the cavern.
It took everything within her to not turn and cast her eyes on Robbie.
Chapter Eight
Where had she gone? The tall, blonde woman—a lovely yet cold looking wench—had led Glynnis away toward one of the strange cottages on the other side of the blazing bonfire around which the men were now sitting. Staring at him. Casting furtive glances at one another.
“Deny it all you want, Cefnder, you have the look of a Rees about you. You are one of us,” the thick-chested one with close-cropped black hair, a chest-length black beard, and dancing blue eyes said.
Robbie gripped his knees tighter, his knuckles aching from the strain. He was seated on a crate across the fire from the bastard who’d broken into Glynnis’s cottage and led them—like children in the hands of a slaver—to this hole in the rocks. Saban Rees. The man he read about in that letter he’d intercepted. The man who’d sparked something within Robbie that had drawn him across the kingdoms on this damnable quest.
And where are you now? You are amongst the very people your father had been hunting for before his accident crippled him. The descendants of the man your father raved about as his mind leeched from his head. What now? It couldn’t be true that he was truly a Rees…
“If Ilone was your grandfather’s first wife, why did she speak of being kidnapped by Rees on her wedding night?” Robbie asked the Rees on his left, a striking blonde man who looked identical to the woman who’d lead Glynnis away.
Where has she gone? Will she return?
Saban chuckled then tossed another log onto the fire, the flames reaching up to lick at the mutton on the spit. The fat dropping into the blaze hissed and popped, and Robbie’s belly fluttered at the scent of it.
; “Because that’s what happened,” Saban replied.
Robbie frowned, confused.
“Let me explain,” the glorious and strangely intimidating woman to his right said. Her hair the same color of the fire before him, she almost seemed to glow. “It is one of my favorite tales.”
The men snickered.
“Any tale that involves stealing is your favorite,” Lucian drawled.
She shrugged. “So what? I am a romantic.”
The men snickered again.
“What tale?” Robbie asked, dispelling the air of levity.
The woman—the tall blonde had called her, Rose—leaned forward.
“Ilone was the daughter of a chief, betrothed to marry a fat, bald merchant as a way to ease trade relations along the coast. But, on the day she was meant to wed, Daid spotted her walking along the beach, cursing into the breakers—she was said to have spirit.” She grinned, her white teeth flashing in the firelight. “He wanted her, so he took her.”
“He stole her,” Robbie corrected.
Saban shook his head. “Nay. It is only stealing if the person does not want to go. Daid gave her a choice, she chose freedom over having a bastard like Gryffudd as her master.”
“They married nary a week later.” Lucian sat forward, finally adding to the conversation.
The truth was beginning to sink into him, soaking into his bones, wrapping itself around his soul.
“How did she end up in England with Bowlin?” Robbie asked, his throat dry.
Silence followed his question, wariness quickly latching onto his neck. The only noises that dared to breach the heavy quiet were the sounds of the crashing waves outside, the pop-hiss of the fat in the fire, and the distant sound of thunder, booming across the face of the deep.
Finally, Saban answered, “Best let Daid be the one to tell you that.”
Daid? He was alive then?
“Back in the cottage, you spoke of him as if he were dead.”
Saban rose from his seat, staring eyes as green and hard as emeralds. “He might as well be,” he murmured, his lips flattening before he turned and walked away from the fire, into the shadows.
Robbie sighed, letting the muscles in his shoulders and back loosen from the tension in which he held them. It would be a long night if he couldn’t find some relief from the pain of the bruises along his sides.
The sound of crunching rocks made him turn his head to look—and his breath caught, every blood vessel in his body pouring heat into his blood stream.
Glynnis approached…or at least he thought it was Glynnis. She had the same sable hair, the same bright, stunning violet eyes, the same pouty lower lip, the same curvy hips and narrow waist…but that’s where the similarities stopped. The woman approaching the fire wasn’t flat chested as he’d first assumed, she was blessed with ripe, heavy-looking mounds of creamy flesh that the deep red bodice did little to contain.
My God…where did she hide those glorious breasts!
Before Robbie could gather his tongue back into his mouth, Brendan jumped to his feet, a slack jawed smile on his face. “Glynnis,” he blurted, “now you are just a lovely as I remember.”
Robbie watched her flush, the pink dropping down to caress the flesh he himself wanted to caress. The tightening in his groin, the hardening of his manhood drained the blood from his chest—that had to be the reason his heart had skipped like that.
“I can see why our William was so taken with you,” Brendan continued, taking a step closer to Glynnis who halted as if turned to stone. Her face hardened, her lips thinning, her violet eyes darkening to indigo.
“Do not speak to me of that walking whore pipe,” she said, her voice taut.
“Glynnis!” the blonde female blurted from behind her. “Where did you hear such a thing?”
Glynnis arched a sharp brow then crossed her arms… Robbie couldn’t tear his gaze from where her arms pushed her lush tits even higher over her bodice. He swallowed. Hard.
“I learned much…when I was a Rees,” she answered.
“You still are,” Rose said, coming to stand on Glynnis’s right. She slapped Glynnis on the shoulder, none too gently, and grinned. “You married one of us, that makes you one of us.”
That didn’t seem to please Glynnis, whose expression hardened further…until her gaze landed on him. Then, the darkness of her eyes changed from anger to…desire.
Oh, aye, you will be mine, lovely Glynnis. It is just a matter of time…
Glynnis could feel Robbie’s gaze on her. It was burning a hole through her, to the heart of her, searing away her clothing to reveal her nakedness…her naked want of him.
Damn! If she didn’t leave soon, she’d find herself in bed with another hell-born Rees.
Over my dead, bloated, crab-eaten body!
Desperate to turn the focus from her and the scandalously improper gown she was wearing, she uncrossed her arms and said, “Where are the rest of you. I had heard you had two sloops. Surely there are more than just the five of you to crew them.”
When William was alive, the Rees—the head of the Welsh faction of pirates and smugglers—had more than four hundred men to command, and six ships—three sloops, two galleys, and five boats for slipping in and out of the sea cave without being noticed. But that was back when his father, Ioan, the brenin—a snide parody of the word for “king”—was still giving the orders. It wasn’t until a few months after William’s death that Ioan let everything fall to pieces; the men left for more lucrative opportunities, the ships were sold off to pay their debts, and the population of the sea cave dwindled to all she could see here.
But…since Saban had taken over, she’d assumed the Ganwyd o’r Mor were, once again, a power in the Irish Sea.
“Lucian and I have a crew of fifty on the Seren Mor, and Brendan has seventy on the Torriwr,” Lucia answered as she sliced a bit of meat off the mutton over the fire. She plopped the hunk of meat and fat onto a gold platter and handed it to Glynnis. She took it and stared down at the food. It looked and smelled delicious…but how was she supposed to eat with Robbie’s gaze upon her, boiling her blood and making every inch of her crave him?
Have you been so starved of a man’s attentions that you would slaver over a man you’ve only just met? A man you should hate as much as the others?
But did she really hate them? Even now, standing in the midst of them, their familiar faces shining with humor and welcome, she couldn’t dredge up the rancor she had expected to feel. Rose and Lucia had been her closest friends once… They can be again…
Why was she thinking about this? With a huff, she bit into the meat and chewed, not tasting a thing. Lucia handed Robbie a matching platter, and he dug in as if famished.
Soon, they were all eating in silence, the storm outside beginning to wane, and the fire before them flickering into orange and yellow embers.
Brendan dropped his platter into the sand then scrubbed at it lazily before standing and stretching. He yawned, and Lucian followed suit. “The men will have returned to the ship by dawn. I had better get some rest. As should you, Lucian…Lucia. The Seren Mor has much to do over the next three days.” It was cryptic. It was ominous. It was none of her business.
His words seemed to trigger something within the twins because they glanced at one another then shot to their feet, giving Glynnis and Robbie surreptitious looks as they mumbled and headed toward their separate cottages.
Sometime during the awkward, silent meal, Rose had departed for wherever it was Rose went. She was the odd one out. She neither went on the raids for goods nor lent aid to the smuggling of the goods. No one really knew what she did for the family… Lucia had once said that Rose had a place of her own, somewhere in the valley, that no one had ever seen. What she did there…Glynnis didn’t dare to guess.
Before she knew it, she and Robbie were alone. And he was staring at her from across the fire, his face set in an expression Glynnis couldn’t interpret.
No need to interpret it. Le
ave him be. In the morning you can leave him to his own and be done with him. She could go home and never have to think of him again. But you will… You will think of him in your bed, stretched out, naked. His taut, muscular body bare for you, your hands aching to touch him, to beg him to make himself at home between your thighs.
Home… Damn! She’d forgotten to have Saban send someone to repair her door! That blackguard! Now she’d have to figure out how to do for herself…which she’d become accustomed to over the years.
Steeling herself, she rose to her feet from where she sat on an ornate, plush footstool, no doubt stolen from some captain’s cabin.
“I bid you goodnight,” she said, giving Robbie a nod but refusing to look in his direction even one more time. She picked up her skirts and turned to head back to the cottage Lucia had taken her to before. She’d called it the guest quarters, as if the whole of the sea cave were a proper manor house.
A strong hand grabbed hold of her forearm and she gasped, turning her head to glare down at Robbie’s hand on her bare flesh. When the hand didn’t disappear, she dared a glance up into Robbie’s face.
It was a terrible, awful mistake. She couldn’t mistake the fire burning there, in his gaze. His grip tightened and she swallowed.
“What are you doing?” she blurted, her heart racing. The hand on her arm loosened but a fraction, then he slid his thumb over her sensitized skin. Prickles of awareness danced over her, and she bit back a gasp. “Unhand me.”
“I think not,” he replied, his lips quirking. “I have need of you.”
Blinking up at him, she drawled. “For what? Do you need help finding a shirt?” She arched a brow and let her gaze slip to his naked chest. It was another terrible, awful mistake. His chest glistened with dried salt, and the smattering of dark hair over the shelf of his chest made her want to reach out and feel the coarseness with her fingertips.
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