Page 63 of A Knight for Gwenllian

Colin’s visit the year before had been bad, but Hugh’s had been a hundred times worse and had spelled the end of the life he had worked so hard to build. Not only that, but the wretched man had also put an end to the dream that could have come true.

It had been so close… For a short but precious moment, Alexander had truly thought that Christopher’s generous offer would solve everything and allow him a future with Gwenllian, a future he desperately wanted. He should have known it would not be so easy and that Hugh would never let him win. Somehow, his brother had understood that what mattered to him the most was not keeping his estate but keeping his woman, and he had forced him to make the choice that would ruin him.

A night with Gwenllian in exchange for the signature that would solve his lifelong problem, ensure his and his children’s future. A simple bargain.

An impossible bargain.

Because Alexander would never agree to having a woman taken against her will, least of all for his own profit, least of all the woman he loved. Because he did love Gwenllian. It had taken this tragedy to make him see it.

And he refused to give her up.

He would be brave; he would find a solution. He was a knight, after all, that could not be taken away from him. He was not yet in his doting age, as Christopher had pointed out last night. Indeed, he was still relatively young, and resourceful and more skilled with a sword than most. He would compete in tourneys and win, make a name for himself, earn enough money and prestige to buy another small domain. He didn’t need much. As long as he had the woman who made his days brighter and his life joyous, he would be fine. Audley was just a place. Gwenllian was where his heart really was.

He trusted that, just like Siân, she would not let his reversal of fortune stand in the way of their happiness. If the night they’d spent in each other’s arms without making love had taught him something, it was that she loved him—and would fight for him.

Sleep well, my love.

He wanted to hear those words every night, wherever they were spoken.

All his life, he had concentrated his efforts on the wrong thing, it seemed. He’d thrown himself into the administration of his domain because he thought that it was the only thing he could achieve, and he’d refused to build a family or even simply find a wife for fear he would one day lose it all. And now that what he had feared had come to pass, and he had lost it all, he was seeing that it was not the catastrophe he’d imagined.

With a woman like Gwenllian, who had been raised in a loving environment, he had nothing to fear. Their children would not end up like he and his siblings, indifferent at best, hostile at worst. They would be as close as she was to Siân and Jane; they would love one another as she loved Rhys and Seren.

She was the woman made for him; it was as simple as that. She had wanted an adventure, and she had found him. He had been desperate to avoid a wife, and yet he had found her. He would not let her go.

They would find a way to be together and live a happy life. Hell, they could even go to Wales for a while and prove Old Myfanwy right, even choose a place to live that was close to Esgyrn Castle, like Christopher and Siân had done, and then see what it was like to be “surrounded by bones.” Anything rather than lose her. That would be the only irreparable loss.

He urged Starburst on. Having decided that Gwenllian was the only woman he would ever love, he could not wait another moment to ask her to be his wife. It was still early, dawn had barely broken, but it did not matter, he knew where to find her.

First, he would go see Hugh and tell him the two of them would never see each other again once he was gone. Then he would go to Gwenllian and do everything he could to convince her to have him. He would slip into her bed, take her into his arms, ask her to marry him, make love to her, not necessarily in that order.

He climbed the steps to the gallery two by two. There, the fifth door, the room that had once been his. He flung the door open—and froze.

In the bed in front of him, naked and draped all over Hugh like a sated lover, was the woman he had tried to spare from this fate. The woman he loved and had just decided to marry.

Gwenllian.

She raised her head lazily, a smile on her lips, turned her face to him—and let out a shriek when she recognized him. She tried to scramble away from Hugh, but he drew her back to him with an iron arm.

He looked bleary-eyed, but there was no mistaking the satisfaction on his face at having bested him.

“Good morning, little brother. Thank you for my gift. Be sure that it was appreciated.”

Alexander turned on his heel and fled.

No, no, no!

Gwenllian almost swore out loud. This could not be happening. Alexander was supposed to be at Throckmorton. He was supposed to be told later today what she had done; he was not supposed to see her and his brother naked and entwined in bed before she had time to warn him that it was not what it looked like!

When the door had opened, she had been certain it was the squire, back with the food he’d been asked to get a moment ago. Loath as she was to touch Hugh, she had thought it best to act the part of the sated, willing conquest. Hugh would not be able to doubt they had spent the night together if his squire saw what looked like damning evidence. He would not want to lose face and admit he didn’t remember his performance.

Alas, it hadn’t been Richard standing in the door frame, but Alexander.

Her heart had exploded in shock and horror. The way he had looked at her… There had been no fury, no contempt even. Instead, unfathomable pain. She had not angered him; she had hurt him, which was far, far worse.

What had he been doing here so early? She had not thought he would be back before mid-morning at the earliest, by which point she would be up and ready to explain what she had done.

Because the evening before had gone exactly as she’d planned. Hugh had not even thought to question her announcement that she was here with Alexander’s agreement.