Chapter 7 #2
“Forget about your damn cousin, he’s lying on the floor, oblivious to everything. I hit him with a branch, so you and I can have some time alone. I’m guessing he would never have agreed to let me have my fun.”
Gwenllian froze, as suddenly she saw everything in a different light.
He had sent her into the bushes, not so that his father could come back to his senses, but so that he could dispose of Alexander.
Had he lied about the old man’s obsession with Isobel as well?
Had it all been arranged between the two men?
Surely not. There had been so much despair in John’s eyes that she refused to think he had been complicit in the scheme.
“But… Your father?”
“The old fool won’t disturb us, worry not.
He never does. He saw you as you rode past earlier and instantly took you for my mother, as he does every time he sees a woman who looks like her.
I could not believe my luck when you stopped mere yards after that.
It rarely is that easy, and the women are rarely as fine as you are. ”
Now that he mentioned it, she did remember riding past a few people on the road before they had stopped. But that was not a rare occurrence, and she had not paid the two men in the middle any heed. She should have. Because the man had taken advantage of her resemblance to his mother to pounce.
Fury surged inside Gwenllian, wiping off the fear.
This could not be happening. Her adventure was not going to end up with her raped and possibly injured in the woods by a ruffian who thought he could exploit his father’s grief and her sympathy for his plight.
She straightened, outrage lending her strength.
How dare he attack her thus? How dare he injure Alexander? How dare he use his poor father’s pain?
She spotted a branch on the ground a few yards to her right.
It looked heavy enough to inflict damage, but light enough for her to actually wield.
Perfect. If the man liked hitting people with pieces of wood, he should be given the opportunity to see what it really felt like.
The only problem was, if she struggled and revealed her real thoughts, she would never get the opportunity to actually seize the branch.
For her to be able to do what she planned to do, she needed the man to let go of her. Which meant she needed to earn his trust.
“Well, there’s no need to be so rough if a tumble is all you’re after,” she said in her best cajoling voice, softening in his arms.
The hold around her middle slackened somewhat. She could tell she had surprised the man.
Taking advantage of his reaction, Gwenllian smiled. She wasn’t sure it didn’t look like a grimace of disgust, but it was the best she could do at the moment.
“I mean… It could be a first for both of us. You’ve never had a lady, but I’ve never had a commoner, and I confess I’m curious. I’m thinking they might prove more vigorous than those pathetic knights who keep their strength for the battlefield and barely exert any energy in a woman’s bed.”
Who would have thought that the encounter with Lady Isabeau would prove so useful?
She would never have thought of saying such a thing had the lady not complimented Peter, the groom, on his vigor.
For a few heartbeats, nothing happened. Gwenllian started to worry.
Had she gone too far? Would the man not think her supposed eagerness suspicious?
Apparently not, because a spark lit up in his eyes.
“Oh, I am vigorous enough for two. Very well, my lady, you can have your commoner if that’s what you’re after.”
He let go of her waist to raise her chin with a crooked finger. As this was exactly what she needed him to do, she forced herself not to recoil at the touch.
“Will you indulge me, then?” she cooed, taking a step toward the branch, tilting her head as if assessing his willingness and ability to give her what she wanted.
She could not believe it had been so easy to have him release her, but she was not out of trouble yet.
She had to keep him talking until she could reach her improvised weapon and then strike before he stopped her.
“I’ll do whatever you require of me and more,” he said, taking a step toward her.
This declaration gave her the excuse to back away even more, making it look as if she were teasing him.
The branch was now at her feet. How was she going to do this?
She needed to take him by surprise. If he saw her bend down to grab the piece of wood, he would understand what she was about to do and stop her.
“I do not doubt you’ll satisfy me,” she said, forcing herself to look straight at him. He might have been a handsome man if the light in his eyes had not betrayed his despicable nature. “And, in truth, there is something I’ve always wanted to try.”
“Tell me more.”
“I want to get on my hands and knees,” Gwenllian said, her voice as husky as she could make it.
She needed a reason to lower herself to the ground, and this was the only one she could think of.
“I will admit that, shocking as it is, I’ve always dreamed of being mounted thus.
However, noblemen seem to think that we ladies are delicate creatures incapable of withstanding such primal assaults.
Don’t tell me you’re guilty of the same misconception? ”
The man laughed. “Oh, my lady, if you want to know what it’s like to be mounted by a real man, I am more than capable of showing you. Worry not, I will be as primal as you need.”
Without further ado, he started to fumble with his hose.
This was it. While he was distracted, Gwenllian crouched down next to the branch.
Thanks to her shocking declaration, he didn’t think anything of the move.
As far as he was concerned, she was simply getting into position.
Taking a deep inhale, she seized the branch.
Everything happened with beautiful, horrifying fluidity.
She raised herself back up, swinging her arm in a graceful arc.
The end of the branch, thick and knotted, connected with the man’s temple with a sickening thud.
The light disappeared from his eyes, and his jaw went slack.
He dropped to his knees, then to his front, and lay there not moving, his pale buttocks exposed.
Gwenllian might have laughed at the ludicrous sight if she hadn’t been so horrified by what she’d had to do to save herself.
Once she was certain the man was out of action, she ran back to the riverside and found Alexander on the ground, immobile, just as she’d feared.
This was a grim parody of what had happened the day they had met—in reverse.
How long had it been since the man had struck him?
Surely this was not normal? Just as she started to panic, fearful he might have died, she saw him move.
Life flowed back through her veins. He wasn’t dead, even if the blow had been severe.
She scooped some water from the stream to her left and splashed his face, hoping to revive him that way.
“Alexander,” she called, “wake up, you need to wake up now!”
He spluttered, cursed under his breath and tried to sit up, then fell back on the grass, panting, his eyes still closed. Relieved by this normal reaction, Gwenllian allowed him a moment to recover on his own.
“Isobel, our… Our son, he hit the man on the head,” the old man kept repeating behind her. “I don’t understand why. He hit him on the head with a branch. He just hit him on the head. I don’t know why he would do something like that.”
Oh, but she did know. She had a mind to grab Alexander’s sword and go cut him into ribbons. That way he would never again take advantage of his father’s confusion and innocent passersby.
“I know,” she soothed, relieved to see Alexander finally coming to, grimacing and wincing. He was definitely not dead, but he would be in a lot of pain, courtesy of the blow he had received. “But everything will be fine.”
As she spoke the words, she hoped that would be the case.
“My head,” Alexander groaned, sitting up at last. “What happe—”
Before he finished the question, he jumped back to his feet, memory evidently returning.
“Where is the bastard?” he exploded. “He knocked me out cold moments after you had disappeared, would you believe it?”
She did believe it. He had done that so that he could attack her undisturbed. Wisely, though, she kept that fact to herself.
“He’s over there,” Gwenllian said, leading the way to the other side of the bushes. She needed to see that the man was not dead. She hadn’t wanted him to touch her, but now that her anger had deflated, she wasn’t sure she was comfortable with the idea that she might have killed him.
Alexander stared in disbelief at the man lying flat on his stomach, then at her.
“What is he doing on the ground? Wait… Why the fuck is he half naked?” Every muscle on his face tightened as a possible explanation for this state of affairs crossed his mind. Once again, his hand reached for the hilt of his sword. “Christ, Gwenllian, tell me he didn’t—”
“He didn’t. I stopped him. With this branch. He gave me the idea when he said he had knocked you out.”
She nodded at the piece of wood that had been her salvation.
The odd idea to take it with her to carve into something beautiful to show her gratitude crossed her mind, before she dismissed it as ludicrous.
Not only was it too cumbersome, but she had no talent for such an endeavor.
Besides, she’d rather not have anything that reminded her of her fright.
She already knew she would not forget it as long as she lived.
“You stopped him,” Alexander repeated, murder in his eyes. “At what point?”
“Before anything happened.” She thought it best not to tell him about pretending to go down on her hands and knees to be mounted. He already seemed on the verge of an outburst; this might push him over the edge.