Chapter 4 #2
“I know that you once lied to protect my sister Sian’s reputation.
She revealed to my sisters and me after her wedding that she had never been attacked by the river, as she had initially told us, but by Christopher’s stepbrother, who had taken the title of Lord Ashton.
You were there that day, you helped rescue her, and you brought her back to Audley to be looked after. ”
“Is that why you’re thanking me?” He looked incredulous. “Any man of honor would have done the same, I hope you don’t doubt my—”
“I don’t,” she hastened to assure him. After what he had done the day before, she could not think him anything other than honorable.
“But I’m thanking you for giving Sian and Christopher this night they thought would be their last one.
For not judging them, even though, at the time, my sister was married. ”
This union had been in name only, but many people would still have objected.
“Yes, well, how could I judge them? It was clear as day that those two were meant to be together.”
“I know. As I said, Myfanwy had predicted it.”
He snorted, as if amused at her perseverance in the belief. But she was truly certain that Myfanwy would be proven right in the end. What remained to be seen was the manner in which the prediction would come true.
“Tell me more about yourself,” Alexander said, raising his cup to her. “What little I know of you I know through Christopher, and you know how he is.”
Yes. A veritable rogue. Which was precisely why Gwenllian had not wanted to reveal her identity the previous day.
She dreaded to think how he would have described the headstrong girl who had almost drowned in the river when she was only twelve years old.
Like a spoiled child or a veritable hellion, probably.
“Well, I can tell you that I have not needed rescuing from drowning of late. I assume you know all about the incident at the river?”
A laugh. “I do. Christopher did tell me about that. But he did say that Seren had been the one at fault. He actually praised you for your courage, saying that it was not your fault you were too young to succeed in your rescue mission.”
Oh. That was something, she supposed. She carried on, feeling marginally better about being Sian’s little sister.
“I could have gone anywhere for my adventure, but I chose Scotland because I want to see my best friend, Bethan, who married a Scot last year. She is like a fourth sister to me. I have three, and one brother, as you know. We are very close.”
Alexander nodded to himself, looking pensive.
“’Tis the exact opposite for me. I have three brothers and one sister, none of whom I would miss if I never saw them again.
Mind you, I wouldn’t be surprised if I never saw Roger again.
Aggressive as he has become, I give him a year at the most before he is killed in a skirmish.
” He sighed, as if regretting the child his brother had once been.
“My only sister lives far away, in Cornwall, with her Cornish husband and her Cornish children. She has washed her hands of us. Perhaps it was the wise thing to do. My other two brothers are the bane of my life. Fortunately, as I am the bane of theirs, they rarely visit.”
Because she didn’t know what to think of this grim situation, Gwenllian remained silent.
“Now that I know who you are, Buttercup, I will send a rider to Sheridan Manor to reassure your family you are well,” Alexander said, winking at her. “And I will take you back there in the morning.”
So soon?
She was about to answer when the door opened on his squire, Edward.
“My lord, a retinue has been spotted in the distance, heading this way. I think it might be your brother. I recognized his horse.”
Oh, no.
Alexander barely bit back a curse when the riders trotted through the gate a moment later. Edward had been right, that chestnut horse, with its bald face and white stockings, would be recognizable amongst hundreds. Indeed, his youngest brother had decided to visit.
Damnation, a visit from Colin was guaranteed to put him in a bad mood. Then he spotted the woman riding the snowy white palfrey by his side, and his irritation went up another notch.
“Is that his wife?” he heard Gwenllian whisper in his ear. Evidently, she had her doubts about the identity of the woman, for which he could not blame her. The extravagant headdress and décolletage were enough to raise questions as to the role she fulfilled in his brother’s life—or rather, bed.
“No.”
The creature was definitely not his dour sister-in-law.
What the hell was this? Not only had his brother come unannounced, moments after Alexander had told Gwenllian he rarely visited, but he had come with, of all people, his bloody mistress.
There was no mistaking the way Colin was looking at the woman or the possessive grip she had on his arm. The two of them shared a bed.
“Alexander.” A casual observer would have concluded from his attitude and tone that Colin was pleased to see him. Alexander, however, knew better. This visit was not motivated by brotherly love. “Allow me to introduce you to Lady Isabeau De Chalon.”
“Je suis enchantée de vous rencontrer, Monseigneur.”
It was clear that this opening was meant to impress him. It did not. The use of the French language grated, and the deep curtsy had been nothing else than a ploy to let him admire her décolletage, which rode low on her generous breasts. Lady Isabeau was a tease, for lack of a better word.
“Doesn’t she speak English?” Alexander asked his brother, glad to have an excuse not to look at the woman. He could already tell the two of them would not get on.
Colin gave a little smile. “Yes, of course she does. How else do you think we can converse?”
“I’m not sure you chose her for her conversation.”
The smile became a laugh. “Indeed. As observant—and blunt—as ever, my brother. And who is this lovely creature?” Colin asked, gesturing to Gwenllian, who had been watching the exchange with avid eyes.
“This is Lady Gwenllian Hunter,” Alexander said, doing his best not to snarl. He hated introducing her, but there was no choice. If only he had not just found out her identity. He would have liked to see his brother’s reaction if he’d been told the “lovely creature” was called Buttercup.
“Braf eich cwrdd a chi, f'arglwydd.”
Alexander managed to repress a snort, but not a smile, at Gwenllian’s greeting. She had made a mockery of Lady Isabeau by curtseying as she would to the king and answering in Welsh. He loved this proof of spirit.
“What was that?” Colin blurted out, staring at her.
“Forgive me. For a moment, I forgot where I was,” Gwenllian answered smoothly, not looking affronted in the least. “Let me try again in English. It’s nice to meet you, my lord.”
“Of course. I should have guessed that was what you were saying. Was that Gaelic, I wonder? Are you one of those barbarians the king has recently subdued?”