Page 71 of A Knight for Gwenllian

“Well, sister, I suppose I will have to marry now, if I want someone to help me administer Castell Esgyrn. I won’t be able to rely on my lonely maid of a sister.”

She gave a tinkling laugh at the jest. “Indeed, you won’t.”

“I’m glad your adventure turned out to be as successful as you expected.”

She reddened. Before leaving for Scotland, she had confided in her brother. Rhys was only a year younger than her, and they had always been very close, but she had not told him quite what she hoped to find in Scotland. He thought she had merely wanted to build memories before starting her lonely life at Esgyrn. He had no idea she had been after something far naughtier than that.

Which she had indeed found—and more. She had been lucky enough to find herself a lover who was about to become her husband and would, in time, be the father of her children. The “bones” she was destined to live with.

Delirious with joy and anticipation, she went on to embrace Jane, then the rest of the family.

Bethan and Cameron arrived the following day, with a surprise. Callum was now able to walk and exchange a few words with them.

“Now that everyone is here, we only have to send for William and Alasdair, and we can get married,” Gwenllian announced, barely able to contain her excitement. “Father Paul said he was available all week.”

It would be a simple ceremony. Of a common accord, she and Alexander had decided not to invite his brothers and sister or even mention his union to them. If they ever decided to visit—which neither of them would encourage—they would simply be told that Audley had a new mistress. Hugh might enjoy the opportunity to remind his brother that he had once shared his wife’s bed, but they would not let it bother them.

At first, Gwenllian had toyed with the idea of telling him that the two of them had never actually slept together and why, then had changed her mind. It was not worth a trip to Hotwell, and such a declaration was ill-suited to a letter. She and Alexander knew the truth, and it was all that mattered.

The morning of the wedding, Christopher walked into the room where she was getting ready with her three sisters, looking uncharacteristically shy. The man was the epitome of the confident rogue, but she knew that he was very protective of her, which was why Gwenllian was grateful Hugh’s attempt at mischief had failed. Alexander had told her that his brother had boasted to him about bedding a certain “Glenda.” Because of the name, Christopher had not understood she was who he was talking about. It had been for the best.

“Here,” he told her, “Alexander asked me to give you these.”

It was a bunch of buttercups, just like the one he had placed on her bed the day he had left Scotland. The bunch she had wished she could keep. She collapsed into sobs at the thoughtful gesture, which reminded her of their meeting that day by the river, when she had pretended not to remember who she was.

Christopher looked at Siân, panic on his face.

“I’m sorry… Did I— He said you would like them. Should I go wring his neck? I’ll kill him if he upset you.”

“No!” Gwenllian cried through her tears. “Of course not. And I do like the flowers, I love them. Forgive me, this is just…something between him and me.”

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat, eager to leave this place where he felt ill at ease. “Are you ready then? Your father is waiting for you in the hall. Everyone else is in the chapel already.”

“Yes.”

With a nod to his wife, Christopher offered her his arm and led the way out of the room, leaving the three other women to follow. At the bottom of the spiral staircase, he let go of her and took Siân on one arm and Seren on the other. Griffin, who had been waiting, joined his own wife, Jane. After one last glance at Gwenllian, they all made their way to the chapel.

Feeling suddenly very emotional, she took in a breath before she went into the hall to meet her father. Finally, she walked through the door.

In the middle of the great hall was Connor Hunter, Lord Sheridan. His eyes, of a lighter green than hers, lit up when he saw her.

“Gwenllian. How happy you look.”

“That’s because I am,” she said, squeezing the hand he was offering her.

“I’m glad. And with you becoming Lady Rathbone, I have only one daughter left to marry,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Or do you think Seren will prefer to spend the rest of her days at Esgyrn Castle, with Rhys?”

Gwenllian tilted her head, wondering. Did he know that was what she’d once feared? It wouldn’t surprise her; her father had always been a very astute man.

“I’m sure Seren will find her own path to happiness.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Now come. Alexander must not be kept waiting. I am told that waiting for his bride to appear on his wedding day is one of the most excruciating things a man will ever have to do.”

Of course, her father would not know about the doubts and fears of a groom in love. Neither his first wedding nor his second had been love matches. Love had bloomed in the alliance arranged by the king, but at first, his union to her mother, Esyllt, had been nothing more than a marriage of convenience. Fortunately, like her sisters before her, Gwenllian was marrying the man of her choice, and they both already loved one another.

So she could imagine that Alexander was indeed eager to see her appear through the door. She smiled at her father and took his arm.

“Yes, let’s go.”