Mary Reed McCall (19 page)

“Even if it means losing your own?” Rex countered gently. When Aidan didn’t respond, Rex lifted both hands as if in surrender. “Never mind answering. Your mind is made up; I can see that.” He walked to the door, his steps heavy, stopping and turning to face Aidan again once he reached the portal. “Just know ’tis a dangerous road you’ve chosen, lad. I will do my best to help you in any way that I can, but I have my own duty and honor to contend with as well. I will not be able to conceal this forever.”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“One month…” his foster-father repeated, and for the first time Aidan noticed how deeply the lines around
Rex’s mouth were etched, how dark the circles under his eyes had become…signs of age and weariness that had escaped him until now.

“Aye, Rex. I promise,” he answered. “One month.”

Giving him one long, last look, filled with all the cautions and warnings that Aidan knew he wanted to give but wouldn’t, Rex nodded and left the solar.

Aidan stared at the closed door for a moment, the ache in his gut blooming anew. Then, turning to the shutter opening, he gazed out at the pink flush of dawn spreading across the summer sky beyond the castle walls. Before the heat of day set in, everything looked green and fresh, covered as it was in a layer of dew. Another promising morning to mock him, reminding him of the swift passage of time.

One month
.

’Twas all he had left. After that, it would all come to an end—one way or another, Gwynne would leave him again—with any luck for a future life with a home, a husband, and children. He couldn’t keep her here. God help him, as much as he wanted to, as much as the secret, guilty pleasure of being near her haunted him, he knew that he would have to let her go. His duty to his family and to the de Brice name demanded it. And yet the very thought of Gwynne as another man’s wife, as the mother to another man’s children, set his teeth on edge and shot a pang of agony deep inside him.

But unless he wanted to see her dead in battle or awaiting an ax-blow on the block, it was his only choice.

Breathing deep, he sank into his chair. He’d have to speed things up, intensify his efforts to make her remember. Time was running out, and ’twas getting more complicated by the day. He trusted that neither Diana nor Rex would speak of what they’d learned, but even so, ’twas
only a matter of time before someone else figured out the truth in all this. And then there would be bloody hell to pay.

Leaning his head back to rest against the cool, hard wood of his chair, Aidan closed his eyes. There was no help for it; it had to be this way. He’d balance himself on tenterhooks for the next month, doing what his conscience demanded he must for Gwynne, regardless of the pain her eventual leaving would cause him.

And then he’d do his duty to his family and marry Helene.

He gritted his teeth, his hands fisted atop the arms of his chair. ’Twas the only way that he could resolve these two divergent paths in his life, even if it resulted in a bitter ending for him. In his mind he knew the soundness of this truth, even if his heart tried to deny it. Releasing himself to the crippling power of that realization, he thought about all that had gone by in the past, and all that could never be…

Knowing that when the moment came for Gwynne to leave him—when he lost her once more, for the last time—his life would become naught but an empty shell again, and he a hollow man.

And it would remain that way forever.

G
wynne paused before the solid span of the door to Aidan’s solar, overcome with a strange feeling of reticence. She’d experienced that mood more often in these past months than she could ever remember before in her life, and it unsettled her. Clenching her jaw, she resisted the urge to lift her arms into their protective pose across her chest, instead clasping her hands behind her back.

She’d show no weakness, damn it. She’d be strong, even in the face of this new and unexpected assault from within. No matter what, Aidan couldn’t know of the tender emotions he’d unleashed inside her. They’d tormented her, growing into sweeping waves of longing that had only intensified last night, and no amount of physical training had been able to ease their power. But she could never let Aidan know that. She’d face him this morn for the sake of her men, and then she’d spend the rest of her enforced time at Dunston keeping as much distance from him as she could.

Ignoring the prick of pain that came at the thought of leaving Dunston and Aidan for good, she blew out her breath. The weight of Dafydd’s stare fell on her from his position by her side, and she knew that he sensed her disquiet. But she kept looking straight ahead at the door, fearing that if she met her trusted guard’s gaze, he might be able to read the confusion in her eyes.

Last night had made one thing very clear: she couldn’t go through with Marrok’s request of her; she couldn’t keep trying to tempt Aidan. ’Twas far too dangerous. Her emotions for him were becoming so strong and real that she couldn’t deny them, but at the same time they filled her with shame. She’d forgotten her duty—her commitment to her people—by allowing herself to soften toward Aidan; he was the Scourge of Wales, embodying all that she’d sworn to fight until death. She was undermining everything she stood for if she allowed herself to fall in love with him.

And yet a part of her couldn’t deny the renegade thrill that tingled through her whenever she allowed herself to think of being alone with him at Dunston during these next few days. All alone with him, her men off on the quest she’d directed them to undertake.

Are you sending them away for that reason, then, and not to forewarn Marrok that you intend to disobey his orders, as you so vehemently claimed?

“Shall I scratch to gain admittance,
Chwedl
?” Owin murmured from her other side.

“Nay.” She tried to put the disturbing thoughts from her mind for the moment, taking another step toward the door.

“I’ll do it.”

Swallowing, she reached up to make the sound to gain entry. A few tense seconds passed, and then the heavy wooden panel creaked open.

Aidan stood just within the portal. Gwynne tried not to
meet his gaze, but even so, the faint whisper of his clean scent—the almost tangible heat of his nearness—sent a twinge through her. She sensed rather than saw him go rigid as he realized who his visitors were. After a pause, he spoke.

“To what do I owe this boon? I’d have thought you all still abed.”

“We have some business we need to discuss with you,” she answered, lifting her gaze to him at last, and struggling not to react to the ache that filled her as she did. “’Twill only take a moment, if you’ll allow us entrance.”

He kept staring at her, and she cursed silently, feeling her face heat under his scrutiny, but then he inclined his head and stepped back, freeing the way for them to come in. Moving a few paces further away, he took up a flagon and lifted a cup toward her.

“Can I interest you in a drink?”

“’Tis early for spirits,” Dafydd said gruffly, as he took his stance next to Gwynne, his arms folded over his chest and his frown centered on Aidan. Owin moved into position as well, his pose identical, so that they flanked her with a seemingly solid wall of protection.

“Perhaps ’tis early for those who’ve been to bed this night,” Aidan answered, nonplussed. “But for the rest of us,” he glanced to Gwynne, taking in her training attire and giving her the hint of a smile, “’tis more like very late.” He poured himself a glass and then filled one for her, bypassing Dafydd and Owin when they shook their heads.

Gwynne downed her drink in one swallow, glad for the burning heat of it sliding down her throat; then, leaning forward, she set the empty cup on the table in front of them before resuming her position between her men.

“Owin and Dafydd need to leave Dunston for a few days, to deliver a message directly to Marrok. We came to
tell you of our plans,” Gwynne said, pausing before adding begrudgingly, “and to make sure that you harbored no concern about it.”

Aidan looked startled for a moment, but he recovered quickly enough to ask, “
Both
your men are going? You will remain here alone?”

Heat swelled in Gwynne’s cheeks again, and Dafydd stiffened beside her. Neither he nor Owin had been keen on the idea of leaving her here without them, but she’d insisted, claiming that she was well capable of caring for herself for a few days, while the journey into the mountains would be safer with the two of them traveling together.

Now she tipped her chin up as she faced Aidan, her arms drifting up to fold across her chest. “Aye. I will stay on alone for the time being to continue fulfillment of our bargain. Dafydd and Owin will rejoin me here once they’ve completed their journey.”

Aidan studied her, trying to determine her motivation in sending her men off without her. She’d been upset last night; there was no denying it. Hell, what had happened had nearly torn him to pieces as well. It had been all he could do to let her walk away from him after she’d demanded that he let her leave the hall. Later, after most of the guests had departed and he’d gone to check on her, Alana had told him she’d left the main keep dressed in her masculine garments and short cloak. She hadn’t returned to her chamber until a few minutes before Rex and Diana had come looking for him.

Aye, the feelings that had raged between them last night had shaken her as much as they had him, he knew; he’d seen it in her eyes, the softness and longing, mixed with confusion. ’Twas what had made her flee to the old security of her training. And yet now she was standing here and telling him she was sending her men away,
knowing full well that it would ensure she’d be alone with him for what could be near a week’s time.

“Didn’t the Welsh messenger just make his appearance the other day for the usual exchange of missives?” he asked, flicking his gaze from Gwynne to her men, in hopes of reading something there that would give him a clue as to what this was really all about. “What is so important that it cannot wait for his next visit?”

“’Tis something I forgot to include in the message I sent then. It must needs be delivered without delay.”

Owin and Dafydd continued to look directly at him, their expressions unreadable, though he picked up an almost imperceptible twitch of the muscle near Dafydd’s eye.

“What does it concern?” he asked evenly, maintaining his gaze on her men for another moment before shifting it back to her. He felt a rush of heat fill him at the look in her eyes. ’Twas the same look as last night. But before he could be sure that it wasn’t just his own misplaced longings making him see what wasn’t there, she glanced away, her mouth tight.

“Sharing the content of my written messages was never part of our agreement.”

“Aye. And yet I would have your word that ’tis nothing plotting harm to me or anyone on English soil.”

Her cheeks deepened to a bewitching pink. “You have my word. ’Tis nothing of that ilk.”

Aidan’s heart skipped a beat. Perhaps ’twas just that she wished to be alone with him, then, and she was sending her bodyguards away on a pretext to clear her way to that end. He studied her, trying to cool his unexpected reaction to the thought, before finally nodding. “I have nothing against your decision, then.”

“Good. It’s settled,” she answered, turning with Owin
and Dafydd as if to go. As if she couldn’t wait to put distance between herself and him.

“Wait,” he called out.

She swiveled to face him. “What is it? My men need to begin their journey soon if they are to make good time.”

He paused, surprised at how much he wanted to keep her near him. “I thought you should know that your true identity was discovered by two others last night.”

“Who?” she demanded, scowling. “And how?”

“My sister, and through her, my foster father, Rexford de Vere.” Aidan glanced to Owin, who, like Dafydd, had twisted around to stare at him from the portal. “Diana bluffed her way into confirming her suspicions with someone close to you.”

Owin cursed and took a step forward. “Nay, it cannot be. She acted as if she knew everything when I caught her watching
Chwedl
train last night.”

“She was spying on me while I trained?” Gwynne growled, shifting to glare at her younger bodyguard.

“Why does no one tell me these things?” She looked back to Aidan, her eyes glittering. “Your sister sorely needs a lesson in respect for others’ privacy.”

“Aye, I imagine you’re right, but for now the damage is done.” Aidan sank into a chair, leaning back and rubbing his top lip with his finger. “However, Diana already knows of the dangers involved in telling anyone what she’s learned. She will remain quiet about your identity.”

“Why should she? She’s made no bones about her feelings for me; ’twould be no difficulty for her to see me carted off by King Henry’s soldiers,” Gwynne scoffed.

“Perhaps, but there is more at risk for her than that,” Aidan answered. “If you are arrested, I will be taken also, for harboring you here. And as difficult as it may be for
you to believe, my sister does have feelings for others beside herself.”

“I can believe it,” Owin mumbled, frowning and gazing into the coals in the grate.

Aidan shook his head. “Diana can be quite charming—a caring person when she wants to be. She’ll do whatever is necessary to protect me from harm, as angry as she may be with me for bringing you to Dunston. And she’s no fool, either, to endanger her own potential marriage match for the sake of indulging pettiness. She will not gossip of your true identity, I assure you.”

“And your foster father?” Dafydd asked, again stepping up next to Gwynne, who continued to stand still, her expression black over what he’d told her about Diana.

“He has promised to keep what he has learned to himself as well, for the remainder of your time with me.”

“’Tis too dangerous,
Chwedl
,” Dafydd said, frowning as he swung his gaze to her. “We cannot leave you alone here now. De Vere is one of the king’s men—he cannot be trusted to remain quiet.”

“He can,” Aidan grated, standing to face them again.

“He has given his word. His oath is equal to mine at the least.”

“I do not like it,” Dafydd grumbled.

“That cannot be helped.” Aidan’s temper bit sharper than usual from too little sleep as he faced down the man.

Gwynne sighed, sounding exasperated as she stepped between them. “Enough. All will be well. We go ahead as planned, Dafydd.” She gestured toward the door, motioning Owin to go with him. “You’d better get started or ’twill be nightfall before you reach camp.”

Dafydd looked as if he might offer more in the way of argument, but Gwynne shook her head, walking with him toward the door. “’Tis as de Brice said—if I am discovered, he pays the price as well. We’ve nothing to fear from
Lord de Vere. He would not want his foster son implicated in treason.”

Dafydd stopped at the portal. “I still do not like it,
Chwedl
. But as always, I will obey.” With a nod to her, he ducked out of the chamber, followed by Owin, who kept his head down as he left.

“Gwynne,” Aidan called softly, as she made a move to follow her men.

“Aye,” she answered, stilling in the portal.

“I’d have a word with you in private, if you would.”

He sensed her tensing—could almost see the long, graceful muscles along her neck tighten, exposed by the hair pulled back at her nape. But after a moment, she leaned out the doorway and murmured something to her men. Then, slowly, as if ’twas difficult for her, she turned to face him again.

“What is it?”

She held herself rigid and in control—but those eyes gave her away. They always had, even when she was a girl, and Aidan fought against the aching well of sadness and longing that opened up at the bittersweet memory of it.

“We have to decide when to complete the second half of our latest agreement,” he managed to say.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“The arrangement we made when I offered to help you perfect the training exercise Marrok commanded of you—you agreed to teach it to me, as long as I promised to show you one of those my men use. I’d like to do that today sometime, if ’tis meet with you.”

“Nay—it isn’t necessary.”

“Why not? ’Tis what we agreed to,” he said, stepping closer, so that they were near enough to touch if either of them possessed the courage to do it.

She looked ready to turn and flee; her hands trembled, though she tucked them behind her back before he could
take them in his own as he longed to do. But in the next instant, she’d drawn herself up to her full height, as if shoring up her inner defenses.

“’Tis not necessary, because it wouldn’t be fair,” she said. “You learned only a small portion of the Welsh exercise before you were called away so suddenly.” Her gaze sharpened, cutting into him. “To attend to your
betrothed
, remember?”

“Aye, I remember,” he answered, determined not to let her rattle him. “But I learned enough that ’twould only be right to repay the favor.”

“Then I forgive you the repayment.”

“Ah, but my honor demands otherwise.”

Gwynne made a sound of exasperation, cursing under her breath as she looked away. “I don’t wish to spar with you again, Aidan—can’t you just accept that?”

“You don’t wish to spar with me, or you fear being that close to me again?” he asked softly, touching one finger beneath her chin to ease her gaze back to his.

She went dead still at his touch, though she didn’t try to pull away. “We cannot have one without the other.”