A Knight for Gwenllian (The Welsh Rebels #7)

Prologue

Little Callum is the cutest baby you could ever see. Everyone is in love with him, even old Murdo, which is saying something.

Gwenllian placed the letter on the table and sighed.

A month ago, her dearest friend, Bethan, had written to say that she had given birth to a son less than six months after her wedding to Laird Campbell.

Now she was writing to say that everything was going as well as could be, and Gwenllian was delighted for her.

Nevertheless, she could not deny feeling rather jealous because she knew that such a future was not possible for her.

Old Myfanwy had told her a few years ago that she was destined to live her life surrounded by bones.

At first, the prediction had conjured up horrid images of skeletons and graveyards.

Was the woman warning her that she was going to die soon?

No. Once the shock of the announcement had passed, everyone had concluded that it meant nothing as sinister as that.

The castle where she lived was called Castell Esgyrn, or “Bones Castle” in English.

Myfanwy was only saying that she would spend the rest of her life here.

That did not sound so terrible, except that it meant one thing: she would never get married.

Her brother Rhys, her only male sibling, would be master of the place at their father’s death, not her. The only reason she would have, as a grown woman, to remain there, was to never marry, as any husband of hers would take her to his own domain.

Could she make her peace with that idea?

She had better do so because the old woman’s predictions were to be taken very seriously.

As far as everyone knew, they always came true.

Her sister Sian had ended up marrying a man fitting the description Myfanwy had given her.

Her sister Jane had once escaped capture thanks to one of the woman’s odd visions.

No, Gwenllian did not dare hope that she would not, after all, remain unmarried and as her brother’s charge. Fighting fate would only bring her pain.

Her gaze fell back to the letter in her hand, and an idea entered her mind.

She would accept what was in store for her, but she would find compensation.

Bethan had found love during a ride to Scotland the previous year.

Could Gwenllian do the same? Find her own fierce Scot?

Have her own thrilling adventure? She and her secret lover would never marry, unlike Bethan and Cameron, but she would at least have experienced something every woman deserved to know—pleasure.

Being unmarried wasn’t the same as being inexperienced.

A woman who would never have a husband did not need to remain a virgin.

At her feet, the fire popped, jerking her out of her musings, acting like a whip lash. If the prediction came true and she really ended up alone at Castell Esgyrn, then she would at least ensure that she lived a little before she was too old to appeal to anyone.

A slow smile crept onto Gwenllian’s lips.

Tomorrow, she would leave for Scotland.