His Captive Princess (14 page)

“Is that not good?”

When she put her hand on his arm, he glanced down at her. His brow furrowed with worry as his unguarded gaze met hers, then up went the battlements. “It means our guests are here sooner than expected.”

“Who?”

Warren’s arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her to his side. He pointed out the window. Locked in his protective hold and clutching the sheet modestly over her chest, she peered down from what must’ve been one of the top stories of the keep. She’d only seen Cardiff Castle, a Norman-occupied fortress, from a distance. Then, it had swarmed with soldiers, knights and elegant ladies. The bailey below looked as busy as a beehive now with a small party of armored men leading their horses to the stables. Among them, Warren’s gruff brother bellowed in the ears of the men following him. His dark hair made him easy to identify even from this height. When he turned his head, she noted a dark smudge disfigured his cheek.

“He’s bruised. What happened to him? Was there another incursion?”

“Ah, no. ’Twas my… Never mind my brother!” he snapped, making her take a second glance at Domenic and the fresh mark that mirrored the injury she bore from her abduction.

She hid a smile behind her hand.

“Look there.” He squeezed her shoulder, clearly agitated as he pointed out a figure across the lawn. A petite raven-haired child fed a pony from her hand. As the soldiers passed by, she huddled closer to the animal, her wide eyes scanning the bailey with trepidation. “There is Prince Lew’s future bride.”

Her mouth went dry. She turned to see the look in his tense face, and was reminded of how she felt when Owain had left her to fight in the first rebellion—leaving her with his people without asking if she would like to join him—or even without so much as a goodbye. She’d been hurt, later furious.

She touched his chest with deep sympathy. “I know it’s no consolation, but my brother-in-law has always treated me with kindness.” She would have to try to talk Lew out of the arrangement later, but in the meantime, she wanted to offer Warren some hope to cling to.

His lip curled with censure. “Her bridegroom would’ve been her choice had the king not wanted this pact with Deheubarth so badly. She’ll be no more than a slave now, expected to bear children…as soon as her body is able to make them.”

He turned her around to face him. His thumbs kneaded against her skin while his eyes flashed with volatile emotion. “Claire loves to play.” He growled, “Do you think she’ll be able to play as a child anymore when she becomes his wife?”

Fresh tears stung Eleri’s eyes for the little girl whose greatest sin in life was being the late king’s illegitimate daughter.

“I saved your life, Warren.” She cupped his rough cheek, hoping to keep his attention long enough for him to listen and know she spoke the truth. “The assassins would’ve killed you when we left the abbey. We might’ve been able to protect you if Nest had returned soon enough, but then Vaughn arrived. And he wanted—”

“No more, Eleri!” Warren tilted his head back, glaring at her. “I never want to hear his name again. That night is etched in my memory forever.” His hands slid from her shoulders to behind her neck, idly stroking her nape, his fingers threading into her hair. She shuddered from the contact, and he took a step closer. She sensed the tremor of indignation running through his muscles, barely restrained. “You watched me, knowing I was looking for you! After I’d told you, begged you for death rather than to be returned—because I knew it would ruin my family—and what did you do? You went to a man you said you hated. You asked for his help, then betrayed me to my fate.”

Her heart wrenched for him. “I can’t deny it. I did all those things.” She looked up at him in challenge. “What are you going to do about it?”

Fire sparked in the irises of his eyes, and he cast a furious grin. “At the moment? Nothing. Wait for your brother-in-law to arrive for the wedding. Mayhap make a trade if he’s interested.”

He pulled away from her and treaded back into the room, collecting his clothes.

He would hand her over to Lew? Good. It might help his little sister. Politically, it wasn’t a wise compromise for either country. The prince would want Eleri back, of course, if not for their friendship or a sense of duty he owed his brother, for the fact that he depended upon her for her connection to the Otherworld. But she had no real worth in Deheubarth now that Owain was dead. She was naught to them, and they would respect Lew even less for declining such an advantageous match.

Yet Warren had made love to her, made her feel as if her feelings for him were returned—despite everything that she’d done. He’d used those feelings to get the response he wanted, to use her body to satisfy his pride and need for retribution. And all the while he’d been planning to discard her like a piece of livestock. The crushing blow of Warren’s plan was that not only was she a captive and a slave in his bed, but she was also, apparently, expendable.

Chapter Fourteen

Warren watched Eleri admiring the elaborate green court dress which Gwen had laced tightly onto her body. Embroidered gold
orfrois
bands of silk decorated its long sleeves as well as the belt slung low across her hips. A matching golden circlet rested on her head.

He’d brought her the latest Norman court fashions, partially out of necessity to introduce her to his people, but mainly out of his desire to make amends. He’d even gifted her with an elegant new dagger in an effort to prove his trust in her. After three days of keeping her confined to his chamber to assuage his wounded ego, she deserved to be treated far better, like the princess she was.

She’d been withdrawn after his announcement he was trading her to the Deheubarth. A taste of her own medicine, he’d originally thought. But his threat probably hurt him worse than it did her. Seeing her sad and angry made him feel like horse dung.

Tonight he would make up for it, escorting her to dinner in the great hall to finally meet his family. When he’d invited her, her expression had brightened like the desert sun. He hadn’t the heart to tell her the good news yet that Prince Lew would also be joining them and that her brother-in-law would expect to be allowed to see her.

He wanted to keep her joy for himself alone.

Jealous?
Oui
, he supposed he was. But he liked to be the cause of her happiness. Despite everything that had befallen him since their first meeting, he still wanted no other woman as much as he wanted Eleri. If she would forgive him of his weakness, his possessive nature, he would do anything to keep her affection. Even if it meant letting her go, but on her own terms. Not his.

“Turn,” he commanded, leaning forward in his chair. He pretended to make a critical study of her, though watching her groom and dress her body was pure wicked fun.

Gwen moved aside, giving Eleri ample room to follow his orders.

The princess frowned, twining one of her braids around her finger, stroking the soft ribbon threading her hair. “When you said you were going to treat me exactly the same as I treated you, you weren’t jesting. I’m surprised you haven’t made me sleep in the stables.”

Gwen smothered a laugh under her hand, pretending to ignore them as she collected the laundry. They had been tossing banter back and forth for nearly an hour while the maid worked. Half-serious, half-teasing. Completely enamored of each other.

Eleri had to sense he didn’t wish to let her go. Although they’d mentioned nothing more about the trade, each of their meetings stirred intense emotions. First, her resentment had caused her to lash out. They’d tussled, ending with her on top of him, each taking their frustration out on the other’s clothing as they tore through the layers. Then she’d claimed him physically, joining with him until they’d both collapsed, her fury and passion spent. Following that, they’d made love again and again, saying nothing of what would become of them. Her silence on the subject was slowly eating away at his heart.

She might’ve already resolved herself to leaving him for good.

He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m trying to make you presentable for my mother and sister. You may remove the trappings tonight after dinner. Or mayhap”—he rubbed his chin as a smile tugged his lips—“I’ll remove them for you. In the stables, you say? Sounds intriguing…”

Eleri turned as red as her hair. “My lord!” she gasped, planting her hands on her hips. When she tilted her head back and stuck out her tongue at him, her headpiece slipped off her hair.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as more blood surged to his privates. Their games made his erection more painful by the moment. It was times like these, when they were alone, she would grapple with him until they fell upon the bed, chests heaving, mouths clashing and hands tunneling under each other’s clothing.

Gwen bent to pick up the circlet, speaking Welsh. “If I may say so, Princess, the young lady will like you regardless of what you wear.”

Eleri smiled her thanks when the maid straightened and handed her the ornament. Despite everything Warren had done in retaliation and later regretted, he’d been pleased with the local woman he’d brought into the castle for her.

He grunted, joining the conversation. “Gieva de Tracy is the one I’m truly dressing her for. Wit and humor don’t impress my mother as easily as they do my little sister.”

Eleri took the ornament from Gwen’s hands, then suddenly spun toward him. Her pretty eyes rounded. “You just spoke in Cyrmreig! You understand us?”

His clothing felt too tight. He stood and loosened the lacings of his collar, suddenly craving the ale of the great hall. “
Oui
. Gwen has been teaching me a little.”

“My lord is a good pupil.”

He groaned inwardly. “Thank you, Gwen.” Following the maid out, he caught Eleri’s hand and hurried her into the passageway.

His palm felt clammy against her cooler one. Her small fingers laced with his, and together they descended the wooden stairs. With good fortune, mayhap she wouldn’t notice his unease or question him further about his studies. But when he glanced down, she was watching him. His insides flipped.

“Warren, what made you decide to learn my language?”

Hope filled her voice, and it wrapped around his heart like a lute string. “Why do you think?”

Her mouth pinched in thought. He longed to kiss those sweet lips, and if he had more time, he would. They’d not made love since early that morning, and as he’d discovered these past three days, even the shortest length of time he was out of his captive’s arms was far too long.

“I think…you dislike not knowing what I say to Sayer and Nest.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me? It’s no small accomplishment to learn so quickly.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs. The voices of the dinner guests rose in a muffled din from the great hall while the glow of the braziers stretched out to their shadowy alcove, not quite disturbing their last moment of privacy. He could wait no longer to tell her what must be said.

Letting her go would kill him. He cursed the day he’d made his ridiculous threat because he’d known it was a lie. Trading Eleri back to the Deheubarth to free Claire from her betrothal? Foolish.

His heart hammered as he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Eleri…”

Her eyebrows lifted in question.

“We need to talk,” he whispered. He cupped her jaw, passing his thumb along the smooth place where only a small yellow oval remained from her injury. She stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, tilting her face up to him. And he was lost.

Unable to fight his feelings any longer, he crushed his mouth against hers.

They kissed recklessly, hands gripping each other’s bodies, breathing raggedly. He drowned in her, adoring the feel of her soft body and her demanding kisses. In bed or out, they made excellent sparring partners. But now when fantasies of dragging her back into the bedchamber for more lovemaking began to tempt him from his duties, he broke away.

Easing back, a new current of vexation and longing washed over him. He struggled to finish, though his lowered voice sounded gruff to his own ears. “I memorized what the wraith said the nights I saw her at the river. It was the first thing I asked of Gwen.”

Eleri stilled. Her eyes were luminous, telling him how right he’d been about the importance of the message.

“
I may not be your husband, but even if I was, I wouldn’t let her prediction stand between us. Isn’t being together for a short time better than not being together at all?”

Her eyes pooled with tears. “Gwrach might’ve meant someone else’s husband would die, but…whose? I couldn’t let you die. If I married you—”

“Do you care for me,
ma cœur
?” He held her face between his hands, his heart in his throat as he waited for her answer.

“Aye.” She stood on tiptoe to press her mouth to his. Her answer nearly knocked him off his feet.

Hope swelled within. “Listen to me,” he murmured above her lips. Resting his forehead against hers, he summoned greater courage than he’d had in the East or even when facing his father’s wrath. “Prince Lew is here. I’ve informed him you are, too. You can leave with him if you wish, or…you can stay with me.”

Eleri backed up to read Warren’s expression. She’d never offered him the chance of his freedom, but here he was, giving her an opportunity to leave—a man who admittedly was possessive and proud, who fought against his own fierce need for retribution—letting her go because…mayhap he cared for her even more than himself? Loved her even?

His gaze held hers now with piercing interest. She sniffed back tears. Did she care for him? Oh, indeed she did!

Still, the old sense of foreboding gripped her heart. “But Gwrach is never wrong.”

He shook his head, frowning. “
Non
,
I do not care! If you stay, I’ll not let another thing come between us. We belong to each other.” He took her hand, kissed it and laid it over his heart. “I pray I’ve made my feelings known. The only death I fear is the one I feel when we’re apart.”

She blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I love you. I won’t leave you again.”

He pulled her against him and kissed her damp cheek. When he straightened, a smile radiated across his face.

She clung to his shoulders, scarcely trusting to let go of him now that he was hers. “But what about Lew? If you don’t trade me for Claire—”

“You know the prince better than I. Will he give up the union willingly, or will we need to ply him with some other bribe?”

She stroked her lips with her thumb, thinking. “Let me speak with him. He usually listens to my advice. I’ll ask him not to join Father’s revolt.” Warren’s face was serious, not at all convinced. The solution rested on her shoulders…if he’d have her. She added tentatively, “Neither he, nor my father, will be happy, but if you and I wed…well, how can Father attack Norman strongholds if my husband is Norman? And then King Stephen’s original plan for peace will be carried out with our marriage, so there will be no need for a second union.”

Warren’s face smoothed, and his lips parted. “Is this some Druid trickery of yours? Or ’haps that potion has put you out of your wits? I thought you said you would…wed me?”

“Norman idiot.”
She smiled.
“I said I would, didn’t I?”

He laughed, and the sound spilled through the alcove into the timber hall as he picked her up for a tight embrace that left her dizzy with happiness.

They were still catching their breaths as they rounded the wall and entered the expansive great hall. Warren’s arm slipped protectively around her waist, sending tingles of happiness through her as they approached the lord’s table where the other guests had already been seated.

“Sister!” Lew pushed his chair back and rose briefly in greeting.

“Good evening!” She grinned. “You’ve grown these past few months.” Later she would have to tease him about his new beard, which reminded her of a younger Owain.

At the prince’s left, Warren told her, was Lady Gieva, and on his right sat Sayer and Nest. Claire was farther down the dais on the right side of her half-brother Domenic. Warren had likely planned the arrangement to keep his sister apart from her prospective bridegroom. Even the presence of Eleri’s royal guardians seemed part of his machinations to keep the peace at the table between the two opposing factions.

After the introductions, Eleri took her seat between the guards. Curiosity drew her eyes to Warren’s family. Dom, he’d explained, was the son of a French knight, while Claire was also the late king’s. All three had the dark hair of their respective fathers, while Lady Gieva wore her blond hair in twin braids beneath a pale blue filet and veil.

After a distant smile, King Henry’s former concubine went back to her meal, clearly uninterested in the gathering. Meanwhile, Claire fidgeted in her seat, surreptitiously slipping bites of food under the table for Warren’s mastiff, Caesar. And the final object of her study, Domenic, avoided her gaze. His cheek was healing, though mayhap his pride still stung.

Nest’s hand took hers under the table and squeezed.

She returned the gesture with a smile, and whispered, “Are you well? Warren assured me—”

“Ha!” Scowling, she withdrew her hand and picked up her knife. “I am as well as one could expect for someone who has been kept from her princess for nearly a sennight. And all I had was a Norman’s word that she was free from harm.” She stabbed her meat ruthlessly.

Eleri gestured for her to keep her voice down. “Please don’t think too harshly of Warren. He’s done nothing that we hadn’t done to him. Now that he’s had his revenge, I know he means to put everything to rights.”

“Aye. Sayer told me as much. The two of them were working together.” Nest leaned forward to glare at him and hissed, “Bastards.”

Eleri turned to Sayer and gasped. “Is this true? You helped Warren abduct me?”

He lifted his ale glass and chugged back a long drink.

She opened her mouth to confront him further for his part in the charade, but Lew’s raised voice caught her ear in a side exchange. The prince’s tone was chilly and terse as he addressed Warren, who looked none too pleased with their conversation, either, with his jaw rigid and his arms crossed over his chest.

Oh, dear.
She should’ve been more attentive.

“My sister does not belong to the Crown!” Warren snapped.

“Your sovereign would disagree.” Lew leaned on his fists as he pushed himself halfway out of his seat. “Your people have stolen from us for years. Now you wish to renege on our bargain and defy King Stephen?”

“King Henry would never have forced the match.”

Lew grunted. “I suppose you would know. Apparently he never forced any match on your mother either, you bastard!”

“Lew!” Eleri shot to her feet along with Warren, whose hand went to his sword handle, and her stomach dipped. “Warren, I asked you to let me speak to him first!”

Though he didn’t attempt to answer her, his chest expanded as he visibly struggled with his temper toward his guest.