Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“Isobel? Is that you?”
Gwenllian turned her head at the question aimed at her.
She and Alexander had stopped to water the horses and have something to eat and thought themselves alone.
Apparently, they had been wrong. A man was staggering toward her, his gaze wandering up and down her frame, as if in prey to a vision.
It was clear that he was taking her for this “Isobel,” whoever she may be.
Unsure what to do, she threw a glance at Alexander, who was frowning. It was the first incident they had encountered since they had left Sheridan Manor three days ago.
“What’s this?” he mumbled under his breath. His hand had gone to the hilt of his sword, an automatic gesture she recognized from the men in her family.
“Isobel!” The man had reached them by now.
“I’m sorry, I’m not—”
“Oh, Isobel, you’re back! At last!”
The man fell into her arms, sobbing. Gwenllian was so confused she did not even try to push him away.
Alexander, however, was not so easily impressed.
He yanked the man out of her embrace and forced him to take a few steps back.
It was obvious that, had the man been younger or more menacing, he would have unsheathed his sword by now.
“Easy, there, old man, the lady is not who you think she is. She doesn’t know you.”
“It’s all right,” she soothed. The stranger was still crying and shaking his head, as if he couldn’t believe he was not able to hold her in his arms. His distress was hard to bear.
Then another voice called out in the distance. “Father, where are you?”
Before anyone could say anything, a man who sported the same light brown hair as the old man appeared through the bushes and started running toward them, looking relieved.
“What the hell is this?” Alexander growled, placing himself in front of her. He was so broad Gwenllian found herself hidden from view.
“Father, there you are,” she heard the second man say. “You mustn’t go away like—”
When she threw a peek from behind Alexander’s massive bulk, he froze. He, too, looked as if he had seen a ghost.
The old man took his son’s arm, shaking it. “Isobel,” he repeated.
“What the hell is going on here?” Alexander asked, sounding more irritated than he had ever been. Why was he so annoyed? Gwenllian wondered. It was becoming clear to her that this was nothing more than a misunderstanding.
“This is my father,” the young man explained, having regained his composure.
He addressed himself to her, as if sensing he would get a better reception.
“I’m afraid he’s mistaken you for my mother, who died giving birth to me.
He lost his mind to grief that day and has been confused ever since.
And when he meets someone who looks like her, he thinks she’s come back. ”
“Does it happen often?” Gwenllian was appalled. The poor man!
“More and more, alas, and I’m not—”
“How do you know what your mother looked like if she died when you were born?” Alexander cut in. Unlike her, he did not seem moved by the story in the least.
The man shrugged, as if he’d been asked that question too many times to count. “I’ve heard her description often enough, and this woman looks just like the others my father has mistaken for her. It’s not hard to guess what she might have looked like.”
“You’re not blonde though, are you?”
Another shrug. “None of my siblings are. And yet we—”
“Isobel!” the old man interrupted.
“Yes, yes,” his son said irritably before turning to Gwenllian. “Just go along with his mistake, it will pass. He always ends up remembering that his wife is dead and not just gone.”
This had to be the saddest thing she had ever heard.
“Listen, that’s all very well, but we have to leave.” Alexander was as blunt as ever. “We have no time to ‘wait until it passes,’ as you put it. We only stopped here to water the horses and have a long way to go.”
His reaction surprised Gwenllian. Up until that moment, she wouldn’t have described him as a heartless man. He had never shown her any impatience when he had welcomed her under his roof, even though it could have been argued a mysterious guest was an inconvenience he could have done without.
But today he was different, even if in truth he seemed diffident, rather than irritated. Had he seen something she had not? But what?
“I understand.” The son made a face. “Tell you what. Last time it happened, my brother was with us. He suggested the woman walk away and hide while we persuaded my father that she was going back to the life she had chosen. It seemed to work. Perhaps we could try that?”
“Yes, of course,” Gwenllian said before Alexander could talk. It was worth a try, at least. And even if it didn’t work, they would be free to leave, which was what he wanted. He nodded to her, proving he agreed that this was the best, quickest way to extricate themselves from the situation.
The man nodded, too, then addressed himself to Alexander. “You and I will stay here while your friend—”
“The lady is my cousin.”
Gwenllian understood he was trying to establish both that she was no villager, despite her simple traveling clothes, and that she was under his protection.
It was sensible, and she was grateful to him for the thought.
She remembered how, to ensure her safety, Griffin and Jane had posed as husband and wife during their daring flight from the men who had abducted her.
Perhaps she should have suggested she and Alexander did the same before leaving Sheridan Manor.
Her heart started to beat wildly at the idea of pretending to be married to the handsome knight. But it would not have served in this situation. Neither the father nor the son was looking to seduce her, so being Alexander’s cousin would do just as well.
“Very well,” Gwenllian said, before whispering to the man. “What’s your father’s name?”
“John,” he whispered back.
She turned to the old man and smiled a smile she hoped conveyed her sympathy. “Goodbye, John. I’m leaving now. We might meet again soon.”
Alexander watched Gwenllian walk away with mixed feelings.
On the one hand, he was glad this farce would finally come to an end, but on the other, he was not sure he liked the idea of her being out of sight in unfamiliar surroundings.
Not that she would go too far, he imagined.
Once she had reached the clump of bushes to their left, she would likely stop and wait for him to join her with the horses.
She would be only a few yards away, and he would be able to hear her if there were any problems.
He waited to see if the scheme would work. Would the old man accept her departure? At first, he seemed too stunned or distraught to react, but when Gwenllian disappeared from view, he started to get agitated, looking around in panic.
“Isobel, no, come back!”
“Hold him!” his son called out. “There’s no accounting for what he will do if he gets to her.”
Alexander did not wait for the man to reach his father himself, he did as he was told. He didn’t want the old man, who still looked strong despite his age, to run at Gwenllian and hurt her. If he really thought she was his wife, come back to him, he would understandably want to hold her, and more.
He closed his arms around the man, who instantly went limp, defeated. He was muttering his dead wife’s name under his breath.
“There,” Alexander said, more gently than he had spoken since he had appeared. The man’s anguish was hard to ignore. Still, something about the whole situation made him uneasy, and he could not completely relax.
“Excellent.” The son said, coming to him.
“Now what do we do?”
“We wait. He will calm down, eventually. Just keep holding him, so he doesn’t escape. He’s a wily old bastard.”
Bastard? The choice of words seemed odd, but Alexander did not have time to think about it. There was a move from somewhere behind him, like someone raising a stick in the air.
And then everything went dark.
Footsteps. At last, Alexander was coming back. Gwenllian couldn’t hear the horses, though. But perhaps he was only coming to tell her that Old John and his son had gone, and she could come out of hiding.
She shook her head. Poor man… The confusion in his eyes when he’d looked at her had been painful to see.
How awful it must be to spend one’s life looking for the love one had lost, to ache every day from the pain of that loss.
No wonder his mind had been unhinged. At least, Gwenllian reasoned, if she didn’t marry, she would be spared from this fate.
Was it a consolation? She wasn’t so sure.
In any case, now was not the time to worry about that.
She should just enjoy her adventure and her time with Alexander.
The bushes opened on the tall frame of John’s son. Alexander was not with him. Her heartbeat inexplicably increased.
“Where is S—Alexander?” They were supposed to be cousins, so she might as well call him by his name, eschewing the use of his title, which sounded wrong in her mouth anyway.
“He’s still with my father.”
Well, yes, this much she had guessed. What she wanted to know was why he had sent the man instead of coming himself. He had seemed reluctant to let her go earlier. But the man offered no more explanation as to this change of plan. Instead, he leaned against the birch behind him.
“So you’re a lady, then?”
Should she admit it? Was it even necessary? Alexander had called her a lady, and the man seemed to be already aware of her status. Something about this conversation and Alexander’s absence was making her intensely uncomfortable.
“Excellent,” the man said before she could utter a word. “I’ve never had a lady before.”
“Had”? What did he mean by—
Before she could finish the question in her mind, the man drew her into his arms, and she had her answer. He meant have her in a carnal sense, he meant he’d never ravished a lady—and he meant to remedy that right now.
“What’s this? Where is Alexander?” she repeated, panic welling inside her.