“I worried for you,” he told Rhodri, “and prayed daily for your well-being. I am most pleased to see you alive and whole, my friend.”
Rhodri’s brow furrowed. “What caused your concern?”
Kian was ominously quiet a moment, making Nicole’s skin prickle. The man had news, and it couldn’t be good.
“I gather you were not at Glenvair when it was attacked.”
Nicole gasped.
Rhodri’s questions came fast and hot. “Attacked? When? Who would dare?”
“We received word three days ago. The raiders were said to hail from Gwynedd. Whether they acted with Prince Owain’s knowledge or no is not known to us.”
Rhodri cursed, expressing Nicole’s precise thoughts. “How bad?” he asked.
“Burning, looting, a few deaths. Connor survived uninjured, praise be to God, but many cattle were taken and the grain barn is lost. I fear there may be much suffering at Glenvair over the winter months.” Kian put a hand on Rhodri’s shoulder. “I know this news comes hard, but Rhodri, there is other news. My friend, you should truly be on your way to Arwystli. In less than a sennight, Prince Hywel holds a contest for a new
pencerdd
. Indeed, when I heard of what happened at Glenvair, I had hoped you were already on your way to compete.”
For a moment, Rhodri’s eyes flared with excitement, and Nicole understood only too well.
This was Rhodri’s opportunity to compete against the other bards of Wales for the grand prize of earning his chair and becoming the highly honored
pencerdd
in a princely court.
This had been his dream since childhood, his ambition as a grown man. Here was the opportunity for which he’d served a long, difficult apprenticeship. Practiced endless hours. Waited patiently for a
pencerdd
either to die or to relinquish a lifelong appointment to one of only ten positions in the entire kingdom. If Rhodri didn’t compete, many years might pass before the chance came again.
As if in physical torment, Rhodri rubbed at the back of his neck. “I have been in England too long. I knew nothing of the contest.” His short burst of laughter contained no humor. “I decided to come to Tintern because I wanted news of worldly events to relate to Connor. I did not expect Glenvair to be the topic of the news, or to learn of a contest. Truly, Kian, could you not have imparted a happier tale?”
Kian sighed. “I do have other news, but I am not of a mind to say it is happier. The archbishop of Canterbury is said to be in Nottingham to confer with Duke Henry on behalf of King Stephen. A settlement may be at hand, praise the Lord, for it will end the English war. ’Twill mean peace in England, but how England’s peace might affect Wales is unknown.”
Rhodri’s frown deepened. “I wish to heaven I knew, but that is for future contemplation. For now, I must take Lady Nicole to Connor.”
And wasn’t that the decision she’d known all along that he would make? Rhodri would see to his duty before reaching out for his heart’s desire. His loyalty to her uncle was commendable. But at what price to Rhodri?
She knew damn well she had no right to interfere but could no longer hold her peace.
“Rhodri, perhaps one of the monks would be willing to escort me to Glenvair. Then you could go to Arwystli.” He began to shake his head, so she pressed on. “You have waited years for this chance to earn your chair. If you allow it to pass by, you might needs wait several more years.”
He didn’t answer immediately, and before he said a word, Nicole knew from the set of his jaw she hadn’t changed his mind.
“Nay, this is my task to complete. We will see how things are at Glenvair. Perhaps, after…” He shrugged a shoulder, then turned away, his decision made. “Kian, since you heard naught of my journey to England, might I also gather you have heard naught of Nicole’s disappearance from either Bledloe Abbey or Oxford Castle?”
“Not a whisper.” Kian’s eyebrow arched. “I assume you had somewhat to do with the lady’s liberation. Are you being hunted?”
Rhodri shook his head. “If you have heard no whisper, then the earl of Oxford’s patrols did not venture this close to the border. I believe we are safe enough and will be assuredly better off after crossing the Wye, which we should do sooner than late. Would you do me the great favor of sending word to Glenvair should you hear any whispers?”
With a sharp nod, Kian agreed. “Ferry or ford?”
“Ford, unless the course of the river has changed near Forden.”
Kian smiled. “Nay, the only thing that has changed near Forden is Iorwerth ap Rhun’s surety over the blessed state of his soul. He made a pilgrimage to St. David’s and, while in Deueubarth, did a kindness for Rhys, Prince Maredudd’s
edling
. Now he feels the prince of Deueubarth is in his debt, and the good deed absolves sins of the both the past and to come.”
While the men shared another humorous jest over this Iorwerth’s beliefs, Nicole shook off the last crumb of guilt over his decision, said a short prayer that they would find Glenvair in better condition than Kian implied, and strove to remember where St. David’s might be. On the far southern coast of Wales, she thought. In Deueubarth, where Maredudd was the prince and his younger brother, Rhys, was apparently the heir.
A chill chased down Nicole’s spine, becoming very aware of how little she knew about Wales.
Oh, she knew somewhat of Deueubarth, Gwynedd, and Powys, the three largest of the Welsh kingdoms, and knew the names of their princes—Maredudd ap Gruf-fydd, Owain Gwynedd, and Madog ap Maredudd. But there were other dynasties, like Arwystli and Cedewain, which were apparently ruled by a man named Hywel.
Of Hywel she knew not a crumb.
Nicole crossed her arms over her midriff to calm a heart beginning to beat too rapidly.
She was about to cross into a foreign land—a land most people in England considered a wilderness and its people savage—of which she truly knew of only a small piece. Glenvair.
And she knew near to nothing of the princes’
edlings,
those brothers, sons, or nephews who’d been designated the heir.
Even while she’d always been aware she might one day be called upon to marry into one Welsh dynasty or another, she’d always thought of the nobles in a hazy sort of way. Far away. As part of her future, not her present. Now they were becoming real, with names, flesh and blood and bone, and frightening.
With one of those men she would one day share a marriage bed.
’Twas well known the bards were required to be able to recite the lineage of the Welsh dynastic families and were often called upon to share that knowledge to settle disputes over the rights of inheritance.
Rhodri would know all the names. He was also likely familiar with the songs attached to each reigning prince and would know something of the
edlings.
It irked her that she considered asking the man who held her heart to help her choose the man she might marry! While still a bit angry over his lie, she had to admit that but for the one lapse, he’d been trustworthy.
And, by the saints, if Rhodri didn’t want her, then she may as well set her mind to choosing a man who might cherish her even if she might never love him.
During the three days Rhodri had said it would take them to arrive at Glenvair, she would have time aplenty to question Rhodri on the Welsh dynastic families. Then when the time came for her to make her dreaded decision, at the least the decision would be an informed one.
For all he’d disrupted her life, Rhodri owed her a few enlightening answers.
W
ales. Home.
In less than an hour they would reach Glenvair, and while Rhodri wished he could urge the horse to greater speed, he didn’t dare. ’Twasn’t wise to gallop through the deeply rolling hills with Nicole mounted behind him.
She clutched his tunic at the waist, still trying to hold away from him, as she’d done since leaving Tintern Abbey. He might prefer to have her snug against him, her breasts pressed against his back, but so far he’d managed to convince himself that the less they touched, the better.
Hellfire, how he wanted to touch her! Wrap Nicole in his arms, lower her down into the long, sweet grass, and once more claim her as his own.
Unwise, surely. Foolish, absolutely. Yet his desire refused to abate, especially after all the questions he’d answered about unmarried male Welsh nobles.
He’d tried to be honest, but God’s truth, when considering the princes and
edlings
from whom Nicole would choose her husband, many of whom he truly admired, he couldn’t help finding some flaw with each one.
Too stout, too frail. Too tall, too short. Too given to bouts of rage, too much a quiet recluse.
Not a one of them was worthy of Lady Nicole de Leon.
“Will you be able to arrive in Arwystli in time to compete in the contest?” she asked, spinning his thoughts back to the competition, a most welcome change from the questions she’d asked earlier.
“Depends on how bad things are at Glenvair. If the only damage is to the grain barn, then there is naught to detain me. If more severe, then I will have to judge.”
Rhodri was dearly hoping he wouldn’t be obliged to stay, and not only because he yearned to take part in the contest.
Glenvair had been his home for many a year, and he would hate to see Connor or his people suffer overmuch. Too, the shorter time he must spend with Nicole, the better chance he stood of breaking away from her and getting on with the life he’d planned.
Before he left Glenvair, he’d have Connor’s oath to heed Alberic’s wishes with regard to Nicole’s marriage. Connor would keep his word, if only because Rhodri intended to make clear that if the oath were broken, he’d write a song damning Connor’s perfidy and sing it in every hall and at every campfire across Wales.
“Will Connor retaliate for the raid?” she wanted to know.
“He might if he is sure from where the raiders hail, and if the reason for the raid is known.”
“Do you say Connor gave someone reason to raid Glenvair?”
He almost laughed at her tone of disbelief that Connor could do such a thing but refrained. “Connor has both allies and enemies. Any perceived slight or injury could have brought on a raid.”
He also refrained from voicing the disturbing suspicion that had pricked at him since hearing of the attack on Glenvair.
While no word of Nicole’s leaving Bledloe Abbey had reached Kian at Tintern Abbey, that didn’t mean the news hadn’t reached other, possibly princely, ears. ’Twas also possible someone had heard of his journey into England, guessed the two events were linked, and sent a raiding party to Glenvair to kidnap Nicole.
He’d been taken to task once for keeping secrets from her, and he was tempted to warn her of the possible danger. But damnation, he didn’t wish to worry her over a mere suspicion! Best to wait until after he spoke with Connor and learned more of the who and why of the attack.
Within half a league of Glenvair, Nicole asked, “Is not the stream where I played nearby?”
Though anxious to see Connor, Rhodri saw no harm in a slight diversion. He nudged the horse off the road and down a slope, his memory filled with a bright summer day and a barefooted little minx of a girl. At the stream he swung a leg over the horse’s head to dismount, then extended his arms to catch Nicole as she slid off.
’Twas nothing they hadn’t done before. Her hands on his shoulders; his hands around her slim waist. But he could see in her eyes that she, too, knew this might be the last time he would perform this small service in private.
When his hands lingered overlong, she didn’t protest. ’Struth, she didn’t move at all, just peered up at him with those wide, doe-brown eyes that enchanted him beyond reason.
His beautiful Pendragon princess, who would shortly no longer be his. The day would come when he would have no occasion to span her waist with his hands. Or lose his senses in the depths of her eyes. Or breathe in the scent of roses that always seemed to be with her.
“No butterflies,” she whispered, as if he should have arranged for them to flutter in the grass to greet her.
He wished he could have, just for her, to brighten her day.
“The butterflies refused to stay when they felt the chill in the air. The best I could do was order the trees to turn gold in honor of your return to Glenvair.”
She smiled, warming his heart. “Then the trees obeyed with splendid grace. They are beautiful.”
“You are beautiful. And brave and stalwart. I am honored to have served as your escort and companion, my lady.”
Her smile waned. “There were moments when I thought you ready to send me back to Oxford.”
“No more than the times you wished me to the devil. The journey was harder than I thought it would be, yet you persevered like a soldier on the march. Not many women could have endured all the hardships with so little complaint.”
“You are being kind. I remember some rather pointed and loud complaints. Aye, there were times I wished you to the devil, but there were also times I was overjoyed for your company.”
He didn’t doubt which time was the most joyous. In a small shelter fashioned of tree branches and wide ferns, they’d spent the night naked in each other’s arms and enjoyed several bouts of mind-bending bliss.
His hands tightened on her waist; her hands clutched his shoulders.
He hadn’t planned to kiss Nicole, but no force on earth could have stopped him from bending down for a last taste of her sweet lips, so lush and warm and willing.
Lust flooded through him, like a stream overflowing its banks, unstoppable. And it hurt. His loins were on fire. Worse, his heart ached so much he wondered if cutting it out and placing it in Nicole’s keeping wouldn’t hurt less.
But then, he realized, his heart was already in Nicole’s keeping. He’d given it to her days ago.
He deepened the kiss and cursed Connor for sending him to England to fetch Nicole. He railed at the earl’s patrols for allowing him to evade them. He even damned Alberic and Darian for not seizing Nicole when they’d had the chance.
But mostly he upbraided himself for being so thoroughly seduced by Nicole de Leon that he hadn’t been aware of the danger until becoming ensnared.