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View fun extras! |
Lord of Seduction
Winchester, England Twelve years later… Chapter One He arrived at Winchester Castle with the beginning of a storm. Tanon should have known when he entered the great castle doors that he had come to Winchester to change someone’s life. When his men entered behind him, a gust of wind blew into the long corridor, swirling his long silken mane around his face. Garbed in a sleeveless doeskin tunic embroidered with a border of indigo, he looked like some fierce Celtic hero who had just stepped out of a bard’s tale. Golden armbands wreathed the sleek sinew in his arms, and a matching golden torc ringed his neck. Something feral sparked his eyes, making them gleam like polished sapphires. He swept those breathtaking eyes over Tanon as she descended the long staircase. His gaze softened and touched her like a curious caress. Then his lips slanted upward into a slow, decadently sensual smile. Tanon stumbled on the last two stairs. He moved instantly to catch her, his broad, sure fingers closing around her waist. “I have you.” His voice was deep, smoky velvet with an edge of steel. He captured her brief, mortified glance with his and held it just long enough to set her heart to pounding. “You’re most kind,” Tanon offered. She swept a nonexistent wrinkle out of her burgundy gown and hurried away. She stopped at the entrance of the great hall and pushed the stranger from her mind. Ladies did not gush like mewling kittens over men—especially men who were clearly pagan. She drew out a quick breath and forged a pleasant smile before stepping inside. It wasn’t that she didn’t like being here. King William’s lavish castle was as familiar as her own dear home at Avarloch. But her father’s high place at the king’s table demanded courtly etiquette. She smiled at stuffy nobles and was polite to lords and ladies, even those she was wasn’t fond of. She would never bring shame to her family or give William cause for disappointment by behaving oddly. She was no longer a child. She looked around, letting her gaze absorb the vast expanse of tapestry-lined walls gilded in firelight. Laughter permeated the air as knights lifted their goblets in salute to one another. Ladies giggled coyly or scolded children running around the tables like buzzing flies. A troubadour sat beside one of the great hearths singing a forlorn love song while calculating the tinkle of coin as it was deposited into the wide-brimmed hat at his feet. Tanon swept a lone midnight curl off her shoulders before straightening them. She would need all the fortitude she possessed to face this night. Among the guests who had traveled to Winchester for the summer tourney was Lord Roger deCourtenay, Earl of Blackburn, the man she was promised to wed. The union was not made through any choice of her own, of course. She was a noble’s daughter, and if that wasn’t enough to ensure her a proper marriage to a noble of no lesser title, then being treasured by the king of England was. Roger was no longer the hellion who bullied her when she was six. He’d been sent to Normandy shortly after the summer he made her fall out of a tree. It was whispered that his time spent under the tutelage of the king’s son Robert was punishment for his treatment of her, but Tanon had never told William of it, so she doubted the whispers were true. He’d returned a changed man, or so the court believed. His time in Normandy had fashioned him into a man of great skill and had earned him the respect of the other nobles. But Tanon still didn’t like him. She would marry him if she must, but she resented having to endure endless hours of her handmaidens tugging on her unruly curls, just to pin them up, and being fitted into layers of her finest wool to look pleasing for a man who preferred the more voluptuous, more scantily clad ladies of the court. She didn’t care if Roger never looked at her again, but she hated enduring such tedium for naught. Still, she was more fortunate than most earls’ daughters, who were doomed to marry men three times their age, or worse—Prince Cedric of Wales. She had tried not to look too relieved when her father informed her that Cedric had been exiled from his land after making an attempt on his uncle’s life and their betrothal was cancelled. She remembered from her childhood the quiet warning in Cedric’s eyes. She hadn’t known it then, but the Welsh held little affection for the Normans who kept them out of England. She never saw her brave champion Gareth again after that summer in Winchester, but she had thought of him often, every winter, anticipating each coming spring. Then, as the years wore on and he never returned, she put away her childish daydreams. When she had heard that Gareth was killed in the northern regions of Wales last year, she said a prayer for his soul. Tanon spotted her mother sitting with her uncle Dante at the far end of the hall. Lady Brynna Risande inclined her head, moving her ear closer to Dante’s lips to hear him over the cheers coming from the table beside them. Standing a few feet away, Tanon’s father, Lord Brand the Passionate, lifted two of his fingers to his lips and then held them aloft to her mother. As if he couldn’t bear to be away from her for more than a few moments, he went to her. After exchanging a quiet word with his brother, Brand tossed his arm around his wife and drew her into his close embrace. Tanon watched her parents, her heart clenching at the love that exuded from every glance they shared, every touch, every smile. Her mother never had to sit through hours of combing and dressing for Tanon’s father to lose his breath at the sight of her. Here was what she had hoped for as a child, what she’d always envisioned for herself when she took a husband: love, friendship, passion, tenderness. She let go of that hope when she learned of her betrothal to Roger. She could survive a loveless marriage. Her gaze drifted to her nursemaid, Rebecca, sitting at her father’s table. It was far better than one of the alternatives. She looked to the dais where King William sat. Tanon smiled at the king. Oh, how she loved him, almost as much as she loved her father. She knew William had only her best interests in mind when he’d promised her to Roger. Lord Blackburn’s family was wealthy, with lands in England and Normandy. Her king wanted to secure her comfort and safety. She couldn’t fault him for that. Poor William. He looked weary, but that was to be expected, what with the Danes always threatening invasion, not to mention the unrest with the border Welsh. She’d been taught a little about the politics of Wales, as it had been believed she would live there. After years of raids by the Welsh along the borders separating England and Wales, William had appointed some of his noble vassals to guard the marches, or borderlands, giving his marcher lords free rein to subdue the savages in any way they saw fit. Some of these lords had pushed their armies farther into Wales, occupying much of the east and some of the south, and causing the people to revolt. Among Wales’s warriors many rebels arose, but one in particular, called Wyfyrn, had caused considerable distress to the marcher lords over the years. Wyfyrn had slaughtered four of the Norman overlords and their entire garrisons. Tanon shivered at the thought of such bloodthirsty barbarians and thanked the saints that her king had kept peace in England. Dear William, he’d even made amends with Hereward the Wake. The king needed another friend at his side. He spent much of his time in Normandy without her father, who often was away on the king’s business or managing his own lands. Tanon found her betrothed laughing with Lady Eleanor Fitzdrummond, a beauty whose mammoth breasts matched her enormous ego. Tanon didn’t like her, and she didn’t care for any man who did. “A friend of yours?” A voice spoke behind her. Tanon sighed without turning. “My betrothed.” “Fool.” Tanon finally turned to him, insult lifting her brow. “Pardon?” A beguiling smirk quirked one corner of his mouth. “Him. Not you.” “Oh.” Her thoughts scattered, taking Roger with them. Saints, it was the man who’d nearly caused her to break her neck on the stairs. Unfortunately, his effect on her hadn’t changed. Her breath halted as she stared up into his captivating eyes. His smirk deepened into a smile so warm and familiar, it tempted her to smile back. His face was bare save for a slight tuft of deep gold just beneath a full, sulky lower lip. A darker shadow along his jaw implied a hint of arrogance. His long hair fell like liquid over his shoulders and reflected the flickering light of the hearth fire. He exuded confidence and virility in waves. Tanon felt as if she were looking at a different species. This one was mesmerizing, and wild like a magnificent, untamable horse. Scottish, she guessed, fighting back the heat threatening to color her cheeks. He’d probably arrived with one of the many clans to compete in the tourney. He hadn’t said enough for her to place his lyrical accent, but she didn’t need to hear it to know that he was foreign. “Are you here to compete?” She knew she should excuse herself and hurry toward her father, but the spark of intelligence in his eyes piqued her curiosity. “Aye.” He glanced at her betrothed and then slid his gaze back to her. “I imagine I am. I was unaware of your betrothal, Lady Risande.” “No one is aware of it,” Tanon told him, glancing toward Roger again. “My marriage was arranged to Lord deCourtenay just a few months ago. It is to be announced this night.” “Lord deCourtenay?” The stranger asked. He cut his gaze to William and dipped his brow. “Is something the matter?” Tanon asked. “Nay.” He tilted his head back to her. “You care for him, then?” Tanon would have laughed if there was an ounce of happiness in her. She shook her head. “Non,” she answered honestly. The stranger seemed to find some relief in that. His gaze on her softened. Tanon angled her head at him. She felt as if she had seen him somewhere before, but she couldn’t place him. “You have the advantage, my lord.” She offered him a candid look. “You know who I am.” “Aye.” The way his eyes searched her felt familiar, but when he lifted his finger to the crease in her cheek, she drew back from his touch, her heart pounding madly. Non, it couldn’t be him. She felt a pang of disappointment. Gareth was dead. “You were described to me in great detail by a mutual acquaintance a number of years ago. He said your eyes rival the verdant moors of Cymru.” While the stranger spoke, he took Tanon’s hand and lifted it to his mouth. “And that your nose crinkles when you laugh.” He turned her hand over and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. His gaze brushed her face from beneath thick, dark lashes. “Allow me to escort you to your father.” His fingers caressed hers as he fit her hand into the crook of his arm. Unable to breathe, Tanon took a moment to blink and slow her thudding heart. She had mastered keeping her emotions in check, especially here in the king’s court. But her skin felt flush, her mouth dry. Her betrothed was sitting a few feet away. It would be unseemly for another man to escort her on his arm to her father. She began to move her hand away from him. “Thank you for your kind offer, my lord. But—” “Come,” he offered quietly, stilling her with his probing gaze and warm fingers atop hers. “Your father’s table is but a few feet away. Grant me a moment to speak to you.” Although he looked feral, Tanon couldn’t deny his courtly manners. She nodded, giving in with the first genuine smile she had offered anyone since arriving at Winchester. Another curl came loose from the maze of pins poking her head and fell over her brow. She blew it away. “Are you going to tell me your name?” she asked, oblivious to the amusement that made his eyes grow warm, while she frowned at the springy coil that defiantly found its way back over her eye. “Or shall I call you stranger for the rest of the evening?” “If you promise to spend the rest of the evening with me, then aye, I shall tell you my name.” She liked his boldness and the self-assurance that slowed his steps to a leisurely pace. He was in no rush to end their encounter, and despite her better judgment, neither was she. “I’m afraid I’m not permitted to bargain, my lord.” “Pity, then.” He suddenly frowned, looking even more striking than before. “I shall have to concede.” He turned to look behind him and nodded to one of the men who had entered the castle with his small entourage. The burly-looking brute slammed the end of a pole into the rushes and yanked on a small strip of leather. A banner unfurled, revealing the ruby image of a four-legged dragon. Tanon’s father and uncle were among the first to spring from their seats. “What is the meaning of this?” King William bellowed over the sound of benches being pushed away from tables, as the rest of his men, including Roger, stood up, ready for a fight. Tanon looked up at the banner. Her eyes opened wide, recognizing the ruby dragon. Wales! When she met the stranger’s rueful glance, she stumbled backward. Dear God, what were Welshmen doing in Winchester? She felt fingers shackle her wrist. Her father pulled her farther away and moved in front of her. From her vantage point behind her father, Tanon lowered her gaze to the daggers protruding from the cuffs of the Welshman’s boots, the thick belt around his slim waist. He stood arrow straight. His tightly honed legs were encased in tan leather trousers. The snug fit revealed more of his considerable male attributes than Tanon cared to think about. His trim body coiled taut with leashed energy. He looked as fierce as his countrymen were reported to be. The man carrying the banner stepped forward and cleared his throat. “His Highness, Lord Gareth of Deheubarth, Prince Regent of Ystrad Towi.” Tanon’s heart lurched. Gareth? She took an involuntary step forward as an old longing to reunite with her friend returned to her. Non, this couldn’t be the little boy who had gallantly rescued her from Roger so many years ago. And Gareth died while fighting in northern Wales. She groped for her father’s hand to steady her. “Your Majesty” The prince turned to face the king. “Forgive my uncle for not sending word of my arrival.” “Gareth?” the king ventured as if he could not believe his own eyes. “I was told you were killed over a year ago.” The king fell back into his seat. “This is quite a shock.” “Aye, it was for my uncle as well when he finally saw me,” Gareth said, his voice calm despite the hundreds of well-trained knights standing ready to kill him if he made one move toward the king. “One of my men betrayed me in battle, and I was imprisoned in Prince Dafydd’s holding in the north for near a dozen months.” A grin crept over his lips. “I have his daughter to thank for my life.” Tanon stared at him. Could this be the same soft-cheeked boy who had become her best friend that summer so long ago? Oui, it was him. His silky hair had darkened a shade or two with the years, and his face was no longer soft but carved to rugged perfection. But his eyes were still as vividly blue as she remembered. Why hadn’t he told her who he was earlier? Her eyes slid to the small group of men who had entered the castle with him and who now stood at the doors of the hall. All were armed, and each one looked more deadly than the next. “How did you and your men cross the marches?” William cast Gareth a pointed look. Like Offa’s Dyke, built centuries before to keep the warring Celts from entering England, so were the marches guarded by overlords. “With careful planning, my lord.” When William raised an eyebrow, Gareth said what the king wanted to hear. “Without bloodshed on either side.” William scowled, knowing there wasn’t a Welshman alive who wasn’t thirsty for Norman blood. He had made alliances with Rhys ap Tewdwr before the prince became king of Deheubarth, but their treaty for peace had never been sealed. “Your uncle should have sent a missive regarding your arrival. My writ would have assured you safe entrance into England. In any case, I’m pleased that you live, Gareth.” William offered him a scant smile before his smoky gray gaze fell on Tanon, and then on her father. “Brand, you remember King Rhys’s nephew.” Gareth offered Brand a casual nod, glancing only briefly at the possessive hold he had on his daughter. “My lord, I’m happy to find you in good health. It has been many years since I last saw you.” “Oui.” The Lord Of Avarloch’s hand closed even tighter around Tanon. “Your family has grown,” Gareth said, smiling at the five smaller faces gaping at him from around the lord’s table. He turned his bold gaze on Tanon. “But you have not changed. You are as beautiful as I remember, though I did find your missing tooth quite enchanting.” Flashes of his boyish smile raced across Tanon’s memory and warmed her blood. She had dreamed of Gareth the entire winter of her sixth year. In her dreams they had played together as they had that summer when she told him stories of damsels and the knights who rescued them from mean dragons named Roger. She looked at Roger now. He swayed on his feet from drinking, and his glassy gaze fixed hard on Gareth. “Tell me, Gareth” King William’s commanding voice interrupted her thoughts. “What brings you back to Winchester? Is your uncle well? His family?” “Aye, they are well. His son, Gruffydd, passed his third year in the spring. Fatherhood has strengthened my uncle’s resolve to bring peace to Cymru.” “Ah, good news, good news.” William held his cup aloft for a moment, toasting the peace Gareth spoke of. Gareth smiled and folded his hands behind his back. “I’m glad you still desire peace, as well, Your Majesty.” “Of course I do. We have lost many on both sides.” “My people prefer not to be subjugated by yours, Sire,” Gareth answered in a nonthreatening tone to match his stance. Still, Roger stepped forward. William held up his hand and gestured for him to take his seat. “I have no desire to conquer Wales, Gareth.” “And yet your noble barons have built castles along our borders—” “For England’s protection against Welsh attacks,” William said without anger. He wasn’t opposed to any man who had the courage to stand up to him. “They move further into Cymru each month, claiming more of our land without your disapproval.” Finally, William’s gaze hardened on him. “And what does your uncle do to stop men like Wyfyrn from massacring England’s vassals along the entire length of Wales, from the southern marches to the north?” “The Serpent Dragon eludes even us,” Gareth argued. “But why should my uncle hunt a man for defending his land against overlords who burn down our villages and defile our women?” The king leaned forward in his chair, looking like he might leap from it at Gareth’s charges. “Are you telling me that the men Wyfyrn killed all did these things?” “I am, Your Majesty,” Gareth confirmed quietly. William cut his gaze to Brand and then ran his hand over his jaw. “I was unaware.” “With respect”—Gareth bowed slightly—“you were unaware because after you gave your marcher lords free rein, you turned your back on what became of us.” “You err, Gareth. I traveled to Wales not three years past to seek counsel with your uncle on the issue of peace between our people.” “Then I beg you, my lord, let us speak of it now again,” Gareth said. “It is for peace that I have come to claim what is now rightfully mine.” He didn’t blink or flinch when William’s powerful gaze penetrated his. Somewhere behind Brand, Tanon’s mother slammed her palm down on the table. “You’re mad if you think—” “My lady” Gareth’s voice was quiet, almost soothing, but the raw force radiating from him shook Tanon to her core. “I am not here to fight—or to argue.” He turned to the king again. “I’m simply here to seal the treaty you agreed to twelve years ago when you put your writ on parchment and swore with my uncle on the holy relics. It was done for peace between our people,” he said earnestly. “But I fear peace is slipping through our hands. There is already famine in some parts of the land. I have come to put an end to it once and for all.” “William—” Brand began. The king raised his palm to quiet him, admiring the depth of the young prince’s desire to save his people from the ravages of war and the courage it took to stand before England’s king and declare it. “You were with King William when he met with my uncle.” Gareth addressed Brand again. “You agreed this was the only way to stop the bloodshed. I ask you not to refuse.” He spoke with authority, and Tanon doubted many people had ever refused his commands. “He will not refuse,” William said with stern assurance mixed with a hint of regret. “King Rhys and I want peace. Had I known you were alive, I would have sealed our treaty sooner.” Expelling a breath, Gareth bowed. When he straightened, he tossed back his head, sweeping his deep tawny hair off his shoulders. “I will be traveling to my uncle’s fortress in Llandeilo in a few weeks. I will relay your words to the king of the South. He will advise the people of your continued goodwill.” “Do so.” William leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed with deadly conviction. “But know this. If any harm comes to her, it will cost you your head. Peace be damned.” Gareth smiled easily. “Her value to you is noted, Sire.” William sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in his fingers. “Enfer, she is betrothed.” “So I have recently learned.” Gareth looked over his shoulder and met Roger’s scalding gaze. His lips curled into a wry grin as his eyes met Tanon’s once again. “It seems I have arrived just in time.” Chapter Two Tanon sat in a carved chair in the king’s private solar, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her chin dipped to her chest. She could hear her mother weeping softly, but she didn’t look up, afraid that if she saw her mother’s tears, she would be unable to hold back her own. Her father paced behind her chair. Tanon could almost hear his teeth grinding with frustration and anguish while William spoke to her. “Ma précieuse, you understand this must be done.” “Of course,” Tanon replied quietly, her eyes veiled beneath the inky darkness of her lashes. “There is no greater vow between people than one made for peace.” Tanon nodded, but said nothing. She refused to give voice to the nagging whisper that had tormented her every day since she had first learned of her betrothal to Cedric, and then to Roger. What about love? Her father rushed to his wife’s side when Brynna stifled a sob. Tanon lifted her gaze briefly to watch them. She had accepted her fate to live in a loveless marriage. Twice! It had taken every ounce of fortitude she possessed to lock away her hopes of ever being loved by a man the way her father loved her mother. “Naught has changed, really,” William gently reminded her as well as her parents. “This course was set many years ago.” Oui, Tanon thought. She’d never been happy about it, and that was before she’d learned what a barbaric place Wales was. She glanced at Gareth leaning against the large alcoved window, his boots crossed at his ankles, his arms folded across his chest. He’d been her friend once. He had cared about her. She’d spent years wishing she could marry him rather than his brother. But that was long ago, before so much destruction and death had separated their people. She knew as little about him now as she knew about the wild lands he came from. “We thought,” Brynna said, swiping the tears from her eyes, “after Cedric was exiled, Tanon could remain in England. William, Wales is too far off.” Tanon squeezed her eyes shut. Dear God, it was. And where in blazes was this Ystrad Towi? In Deheubarth, no doubt, which could have been at the other end of the world as far as she was concerned. If she had to marry for something other than love, then Roger was the best choice for her. His castle in Blackburn was only a day’s ride away from Avarloch. “What about Roger?” Tanon asked the king softly. “What about him?” Gareth said. Tanon angled her head to look at him. And then wished she hadn’t. The Gareth she remembered was gone. In his place stood a man whose arresting stare demanded her full attention. Silently defying him, she dipped her gaze away from his. “Lord deCourtenay will take offense to having our vow of marriage broken just a few short weeks before our wedding. Perhaps it would be more prudent to wait—” “Something tells me he’ll get over you quickly enough.” Tanon snapped her eyes up at Gareth. “That was an extremely unkind thing to say.” He didn’t look repentant. In fact, his gaze on her darkened. “Forgive me,” he said, his mocking tone a stark contradiction to his apology. “I thought you would be relieved to find yourself free of him.” “In exchange for living in Wales?” Tanon expelled a tight little snort. Gareth pushed himself off the window and took a step toward her. A tinge of fear quickened her pulse as he came closer, his expression warrior hard. “How can you hold contempt for a country you have never even seen?” “I don’t need to see it to know it is a country fraught with war,” she said, keeping her voice steady, her challenge soft. She hadn’t meant to insult him, but she wasn’t about to back down from the anger flashing across his eyes. “I know that it is a country divided by kingdoms and kings, one whose own nephew could not be trusted, and had to be banished.” Tanon’s father moved toward her with a look that warned Gareth to move away. But Gareth had one more thing to say. “Tanon,” The familiar tenderness in his voice drew her eyes to his. “You speak as if you are my enemy.” “Gareth,” William interjected, his tone signaling that he’d heard enough, but Gareth had already swung away from her on his way back to the window. “He is right.” Tanon stopped the king before he said anything else. Gareth turned back to her, but she lowered her gaze. “I will do what is required of me.” What was required of her. Hell, that wasn’t the response he had been hoping for, Gareth set his hips back against the window. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this. He understood that his appearance at Winchester had been a shock to the king, and to the Risandes, as well. He’d even concede that Tanon had a right to be a little reluctant about marrying him, but the way she had just accepted her fate, as if she was about to be bound to a horned demon from her worst nightmares, pricked him in the heart. He was a fool to have thought she would rejoice at seeing him again. Why should she? They had spent one summer together. She hadn’t recognized him earlier. She probably didn’t even remember him. But he remembered her. The girl who had stood apart from the rest. The one whose complete lack of guile made him smile, at the risk of being thrashed by his brothers. She was direct and inquisitive, thriving on her own happiness—he glanced at the king and her family—not everyone else’s. He’d thought of her often, imagining the girl he’d left had grown into a spirited beauty. He’d returned to find a Norman lady, refined and obedient. He attributed her prejudiced opinion of Cymru to being brought up in Norman courts. The stars only knew what she’d been taught about his people. She was probably scared out of her wits by him, and yet she’d just agreed to marry him without quarrel or complaint. It had angered him to hear her concern over deCourtenay, but she’d told him that they had only been betrothed for a short time and she didn’t care for him. Christ, she’d accepted that fate, it would seem, without complaint as well. There was barely a trace of the winsome abandon he’d once found so irresistible in her glade-green eyes. Her face hadn’t changed, though. Looking at her still seized his breath. He recalled the way she had stared up at him earlier in quiet fascination, the silent gasp that parted her lips when he kissed her hand, as if no man had ever done the like before. He had been tempted to lean down and cover that sweet coral mouth with his own. “Now, what are we to do about deCourtenay?” William thought out loud, jarring Gareth’s concentration away from Tanon’s lips. “Tanon’s right. He might take offense and ask to fight for her hand.” “Then allow them to fight,” Brand suggested, grazing Gareth with a cool look. “I’d like an opportunity to see if the prince has the skills required to protect my daughter.” Gareth took up the challenge with a respectful bow. “The tourney begins tomorrow. Allow me to prove my skill against deCourtenay there. If I win, your daughter will return to Cymru with me, as my wife, without doubt that I will not do all that is necessary to secure her safety, just as I do for my people. If I lose, I will wish her happiness with”—a withering smirk touched his lips.—“her doting husband, and bid her farewell.” William eyed the Welsh prince narrowly. He’d heard many things about this man’s great skill, but deCourtenay also knew how to wield a sword well. Perhaps the prince’s arrogance would work in the Risande’s favor. If deCourtenay won, Tanon could remain in England without him having broken his agreement with King Rhys. If he refused Gareth’s bargain, they would always wonder what fate would have chosen for Tanon this day. “I will allow it.” He sighed with the weight of decisions he already regretted having to make. “You may leave us now.” The king waved his hand in Gareth’s direction. “See my steward, Rupert, for chambers for you and your men while you’re here.” Tanon stood up and tugged on Gareth’s wrist after he bowed and turned to leave. Suspicion creased her brow. She dragged her lower lip between her teeth, drawing Gareth’s gaze back to her mouth. “I thought I was vital to the peace of your country. Why would you risk the lives you claim are in danger by returning without me?” Gareth stared into the shifting facets of her eyes, feeling his pulse quake. God help him, she still made his chest feel like he’d been kicked in it. “I risk nothing, my lady.” His voice was a honeyed murmur while he lifted the edge of his mouth in a confident half grin. “I will not lose.” Tanon watched him leave. Somehow, his back was just as masculine as the front. Everything about him was sensual. He had no doubt in the outcome. He intended to win. Her heart rebelled at the idea of living in Wales, but her blood rushed through her veins. Gareth’s bold smiles lured a part of her that craved excitement. The kind that had been denied her by her noble upbringing. His gaze stirred feelings that made her want to run into the safe, uninterested arms of Roger deCourtenay, sealing the fate she’d prepared herself for. But a buried part of her was curious to find out if the champion of her youth had become as dangerous as he looked. “Tanon,” The voice of her king drew her attention back to her family. “I would not ask this of you if it were not so vital to so many.” Tanon nodded. She had been raised as a child to obey her king. She had always been protected by the gentlest of men and she would always do her best to please them, especially when a request was fraught with such need. Swallowing back her own emotions, she met William’s tender gaze. “I will not disappoint you.” # An hour after Brand left the solar with Brynna, he returned alone, finding the king where he’d left him, sprawled out in a chair facing the hearth fire. Brand acknowledged the man sitting beside William with a brief glance as he crossed the room to pour himself a drink. Though almost fourteen years had passed since Hereward the Wake had led a mighty rebellion against the Normans in Peterborough, Brand still found it inconceivable that the beefy Saxon had laid down his sword and had not only sworn fealty to William, but had become one of the king’s emissaries and good friend. “I fear your wife will never forgive me.” William stared into the cup clutched within his thick fingers. With one swift motion, he guzzled its contents and then tossed the cup into the crackling flames. “Je suis désolé, mon ami.” Brand closed his eyes for a moment. The king should not be sorry for doing what was needed to bring peace to his land. Brand had had a part in this decision that they all hoped would end the fighting between the Normans and the Welsh. At William’s request, he had agreed to let his eldest daughter be taken away from him, to live among England’s enemy as a symbol, a gesture that the Normans desired peace. Brand clenched his jaw, regretting his decision for the thousandth time since he’d made it. Many daughters were given over for land, title, or peace. His own wife had been forced to marry him to avoid bloodshed between the Saxons and the Normans. But this was his daughter, William’s goddaughter, and Brand was glad that his best friend shared his grief. “Brynna understands the sacrifices required for peace. Tanon will come to understand them, as well.” Brand clenched his teeth together as he carried his cup to the hearth and leaned his shoulder against the arched mantle. “What do we know about Prince Gareth? I remember Cedric, but I’ve never given his younger brother much thought.” “We know a fair amount,” William told him, looking up. “Remember, Hereward spent a full winter with King Rhys and Gareth a number of years ago.” Brand flicked his gaze to the red-haired Saxon. “Tell me.” Crossing his booted ankle over his thigh, Hereward settled more comfortably in his seat. “Prince Gareth rules part of the northern region of Ystrad Towi in regent for King Rhys’s son.” “I know.” Brand exhaled a frustrated sigh. “And he fought against one of the princes of the north and was believed to be dead. Hereward, tell me about him, this man who is to be my daughter’s husband. Is he even tempered? Fair to his people?” “From what I observed of him during my visit with him, he is even tempered and compassionate. His prior rebellion against the Normans was to protect his people. His people respect him and obey his word as law. He earned their esteem by holding back a regiment of Lord Fitzgerald’s army when the Normans tried to move farther into the west, not once, but three times. As a leader, he possesses great finesse and charm that have won him the hearts of even some of King Gruffudd’s people in the Gwynedd, but he won’t hesitate to slice the head from anyone who tries to bring harm to his people. I’ve seen him do it.” The glint in Hereward’s pale green eyes reminded Brand that this softly spoken Saxon had once impaled the heads of fifty Normans in the courtyard of his father’s castle. “The twenty men he arrived with are part of his Teulu, or personal guardsmen, elite in their skill.” Hereward continued. “Four of those men are his closest friends, sworn to give their lives in defense of his. Though he does not require their protection. He is a confident warrior. He wields a sword as if he were born with one.” Brand ran his hand over his jaw, trying desperately to accept the inevitable; he’d given up his daughter to the Welsh. “He will keep her safe.” Hereward said as if reading Brand’s thoughts. He liked the Risandes, had respected them even during the years the brothers had hunted him for the killing of their sister, which he naught to do with. He harbored no ill will toward Brand, even though the woman he loved was in love with the Earl. Hereward doubted Brand was even aware of Tanon’s nurse, Rebecca. His eyes were on his wife and family. “Prince Gareth is not a barbarian, Brand.” Hereward said. “He’s intelligent, and his first choice is always diplomacy, not force. In truth, your daughter will do far better with him than she would have done with his brother.” “I don’t know that,” Brand told him, the worry in his eyes remaining, despite Hereward’s assurances. “I want to travel to Wales with her.” Brand turned back to the king. “I need to see for myself that she will be accepted in her new home.” “You cannot,” William answered, a sharp barb of regret jabbing deep into his heart as he watched Brand ready himself for a fight. The king stopped him before it began. “You are my highest commander, mon ami. Everyone in Scotland, Wales, and France knows who you are. The moment you step foot on Welsh land, they will suspect you are there for war. Your life, and our agreement for peace, will mean naught. Give Gareth and his uncle some time to convince their people of our sincerity. Then, you may visit her. In the meantime, Gareth will secure her well being.” “The prince barely knows her!” Brand’s voice erupted into a roar. “All you have convinced me of tonight is that the people come first to the prince. Who will protect Tanon if his people turn on her?” “I will.” Brand turned to point his stare at Hereward as the Saxon, who had once been William’s most powerful enemy, offered him a faint smile and repeated his vow. “I will travel with her and guard her with my sword, and with my life.” Brand didn’t want to send Tanon off with Hereward anymore than he wanted to send her off with Gareth. This was the man whose followers had killed his sister, Katherine thirteen years ago. It had taken almost that many years before Brand believed Hereward had nothing to do with her death. But that didn’t mean he trusted the Saxon with his daughter. Hereward stood to his feet and placed a large hand on Brand’s shoulder. “I will let no harm come to her. You have my word.” Brand gritted his teeth, and then left the solar.
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