Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“Bethan!”
With a cry of joy, Gwenllian ran into her friend’s arms. Alexander watched on as the two women, as different one from the other as night from day, hugged and started to sob.
The contrast between them was very pleasing, but he found himself thinking that he preferred his little Buttercup’s golden beauty to her friend’s darker looks. A smile came to tease his lips.
Perhaps the name was not so ill-suited after all.
It had taken them almost two weeks to reach Nead an Diabhail.
Had he been with a male friend, he might well have covered the distance faster, but there had been no incentive to put an end to his time with Gwenllian.
Riding with a battle-hardened knight, faster though it may be, was nowhere near as enjoyable as riding with a quick-witted lady.
Rather selfishly, he was grateful to the Welshman who had hurt himself for this opportunity to be alone with the most fascinating woman he had ever met.
Every day, he discovered a new side of her to enjoy—and every day he seemed to find a new way to please her.
She liked his bluntness, he’d quickly realized, which had come as a surprise, and his protective side, which had been a relief.
He’d sometimes wondered if she would not feel stifled by his insistence on seeing to her safety, because after the incident with Old John and his son, he had become even more cautious than usual.
As for him, he had yet to find something he didn’t like about her.
As well as her quick-wittedness, he enjoyed her wicked sense of humor, unexpected in a well-raised lady, and he was impressed at her resilience.
Riding all the way to Scotland, mere days after having come from Wales, was no mean feat.
Not for her, Lady Isabeau’s delicate disposition.
After that one night at the tavern, she had not asked to stop in another establishment, making do, like he did, with the rolled-up furs they had packed.
And, of course, he had liked looking at her, riding with effortless ease and moving with grace. He never tired of it.
“What on earth are you doing here?” Bethan asked. At least he thought that was what the question meant. It had been uttered in Welsh, so he couldn’t be sure, but shock was etched all over the woman’s face.
“I didn’t send you word of my visit because I wanted it to be a surprise.” Gwenllian, for his benefit, he imagined, had reverted to English.
“It is. The most wonderful surprise.”
Alexander’s attention was at that moment diverted to a tall man with striking red hair who was walking up to him.
The way he was smiling and watching the two women indicated he was probably none other than Cameron Campbell, laird of Nead an Diabhail and Bethan’s husband.
Alexander had heard a lot about the Scot during the ride north.
From the way Gwenllian had gushed about how wonderful he was, he had at times wondered if she did not harbor guilty feelings for her best friend’s husband.
Her eyes had been so full of stars when she’d talked about him.
But perhaps she was simply jealous of Bethan’s happiness.
If she was convinced marriage was not for her, it made sense that she would envy her friend for having a loving husband and a family.
“Aye, this is a surprise indeed.” The Scot spoke with an accent Alexander had never heard. “We had no idea Gwenllian was on her way to Scotland.”
“She didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“Understandable.” A nod. “Where is the rest of the retinue?”
“We are on our own.”
“Are you her husband, then? Is that why she came here, to introduce you to her friend?”
“No. We are not married.” Why did saying the words cause Alexander’s heart to start pumping harder?
It was hardly the first time he’d had to deny being married.
People had asked him many times over the years why he had not found a wife yet.
Never had it caused any discomfort inside him. “I’m only escorting her.”
The man made a face that indicated he doubted that was the whole truth. “Why is it that no one else is traveling with you?”
“Because the Welshman who was supposed to come with us hurt his foot and I assured Lady Gwenllian that I was more than capable of seeing to her safety, which I am,” Alexander snapped. Was this an interrogation?
The Scot had the impudence to eye him up and down, as if to assess the truth of the statement. “Aye,” he said eventually. “You must be, because you both made it all the way here in one piece, apparently.”
“We did.”
To signify that the interrogation, if that was what it was, was over, he glanced back to the two women, who had reverted back to rapid Welsh, having realized that neither man was listening to their conversation.
Alexander enjoyed hearing Gwenllian speaking the language that was foreign to his ear—and watching her. She was so animated, so happy, so beautiful.
“Well, I wager you’ll be thirsty after your ride,” Cameron said after a while. He had been lost in contemplation as well. The difference was, he was allowed to admire a woman who was married to him. “Come, we have everything you need inside.”
“This is Callum.”
The little boy in her arms, with his head of flaming red hair, was…cute? Irresistible? Gwenllian, who had never been one to fawn over babies as a matter of principle, eventually settled on “adorable.” She smiled at him, then at her friend, who looked happier than she had ever seen her.
“I’m happy to finally meet your son.”
“And I am happy to introduce him to you. I hadn’t dared hope it would be so soon. I’m so glad you undertook this journey.”
“So am I.” For more than one reason. She smiled. The ride with Alexander had been perfect, the only incident being the one by the river at the beginning. After that, it had been only pleasure.
As Bethan was refilling their cup of ale, Callum started to fuss.
“Ah, it appears that someone is hungry,” she said, reaching out to the babe. “I was wondering how long it would be. He really is his father’s son, always ready to eat. Do you mind if I feed him while we carry on talking?”
“Of course not.”
With deft gestures, Bethan settled the child at her breast. It was as if she had done that all her life. When the babe latched on, she sighed as if she were the one getting relief from the act.
“Your visit is very propitious. I’ve been telling Cameron that I would like to go to Wales soon, as I wish to introduce Callum to my brother Siaspar and everyone at Castell Esgyrn.”
“They would be delighted to meet him.”
Gwenllian was certain of it. Raised with them after the death of her parents, Bethan was considered a member of the Hunter family, and everyone had been sad to see her go to Scotland.
But at least they had known she would be with the man she loved, instead of the stranger she had been betrothed to at the age of thirteen. It had made all the difference.
“You’re glowing,” she observed, watching her friend smile at her son, who was suckling as if his life depended on the nourishment he was getting, which, of course, it did. “And no wonder. Your life turned out to be just what you’d dreamed of.”
“Yes. Who would have thought that the awful arrangement my father agreed to would lead to such happiness? And yet, it happened. I spent so many years dreading the fate I thought would be mine that I am doubly grateful for the way everything turned out.”
It suddenly struck Gwenllian that Old Myfanwy had told her she would live her life surrounded by bones at the age Bethan had been told she would have to marry a Scottish stranger.
It seemed significant, somehow. Could it be that, like Bethan, she ended up living a different life than the one she’d spent years dreading?
Could it be that she, too, found what she wanted on the road to Scotland?
Oblivious to the realization that had hit her, her friend gave her a smile. “But enough about me, you already know all there is to know from my letters. Tell me about yourself?”
Gwenllian blushed before she understood why. Then she did understand. Because her news, the one she was bursting to tell her friend, was all about Alexander.
“I think that I, too, have met a man, the kind I’ve always dreamed of,” she murmured.
Far from being shocked, Bethan winked. “Well, he is rather dashing, is he not?”
“How do you know who I—”
“Please. If you mean to pretend that Sir Alexander is not the man who makes your blood race faster in your veins, then you can save your breath. I know he is.”
“Is it that obvious?” Gwenllian was appalled. They had been here for less than a day, and already her friend had drawn her conclusions.
“Sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but…yes.”
Oh, this was bad. “Do you think he knows?”
Bethan snorted, making her opinion clear. “Unless he’s a fool, which he doesn’t appear to be, he will know. But more to the point, he shares the attraction. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”
Well… If truth be told, Gwenllian had thought to detect interest in his eyes many times over the last few days, but she had tried to tell herself that she was imagining things so as not to get ahead of herself.
The disillusion would be too hard to bear if she were wrong.
But perhaps she wasn’t wrong? Bethan had always been very observant, and she was telling her she had noticed something.
If she had seen Gwenllian’s attraction toward Alexander, why should she be mistaken about what she thought he felt?
“I was trying not to dwell on it, if I’m honest, just in case he did not return my feelings,” she admitted, feeling slightly ludicrous. But if she couldn’t discuss Alexander with her friend, who could she confide in?
“No. I suppose you can’t see the way he looks at you when you’re talking to someone else, but I can. And I’m telling you, your mighty knight has been hit. Hard.”
Gwenllian’s heart missed a beat. This was excellent news. “Then… What should I do?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Bethan said slowly. “You already know what you want from him. Only you are afraid to admit it to yourself, which is why you pretended not to notice his interest in you.”
Silence stretched in the room. Gwenllian didn’t know if she felt chastened or relieved.
But Bethan was right. She knew what she wanted from Alexander, had known it for days, perhaps even from the start, when she had woken up in his arms. She wanted him to be the adventure she had been looking for, to be the memory that would sustain her throughout her lonely life.
She wanted to enjoy more than a stolen kiss, she wanted him to show her the pleasure a man and a woman could share.
Resolve straightened her spine. “You and my sisters all chose their first lover. Am I to be the only woman I know who doesn’t have the courage to act on her desire?
As well as to see you, this is why I came to Scotland.
I wanted to find an adventure. Part of this adventure was to experience what I fear I will never experience later on in life,” she said, almost talking to herself.
“But perhaps I didn’t need to come all this way, perhaps the adventure found me at the start of my journey.
As soon as I set eyes on Alexander, I knew I wanted him to play a role in my life.
Not that I regret coming to see you, but—”
Bethan squeezed her hand. “I know what you mean. And after what I did to try and ensure myself my life would not be the one I had been condemned to, I cannot judge you for wanting to do the same.”
“Thank you. It’s not that simple though.”
How would she go about it? Having never before tried to lure a man to her bed, she had no idea what to do.
She could not jump on Alexander in the middle of the great hall and tell him that she wanted him to bed her.
No… But she could perhaps go to see him in the middle of the night and show him what she wanted.
He knew about her desire for adventure. Which meant that if, as she and Bethan suspected, he was not indifferent to her, he might well allow himself to be seduced.
“It can be simple, since he already feels desire for you. In my experience, men find it hard to resist a woman they are attracted to.” It was as if her friend had read her mind.
“I will see to it that you are both given a room away from the main building while you’re here, far from prying eyes and ears. Go to him when you’re ready.”
Gwenllian bit her bottom lip. Could she be so brazen? And even if she were, would it work? What if they were mistaken and Alexander did not feel any desire for her? Or… What if he did, but he resisted temptation because she was a virgin? Would she dare risk the humiliation of a refusal?
Just then, he entered the room, following in Cameron’s footsteps.
The answer to her question exploded in her mind. Yes, she would dare. She would be as brazen as to go to him. Even better, she suddenly had an idea of how to convince him to give in.
Undeniably, that would be the hard part because Alexander was too honorable to ever allow himself to ruin a virgin. And yet, he wanted her. Now that she was allowing herself to see it, she saw it, in all its glory. There was no mistaking the way his eyes had lit up when they had landed on her.
Well, she would just have to make it plain that she, too, wanted him, and would not let dubious conventions stand in her way.
It was as she’d just told Bethan. All the women she loved had chosen the men who would introduce them to the pleasures of the flesh, and it had ended up well for them.
Jane, Sian and Bethan were now married to the men they had seduced before any sort of promise had been uttered.
Of course, marriage might be out of reach for her.
Hadn’t she been told, albeit in a covert manner, that this was not the future fate had in store for her?
Yes. But it hardly mattered in this instance.
She had decided to find herself a lover in Scotland so that she could experience pleasure.
That lover did not necessarily have to be Scottish, did he?
At that moment, three things happened at once. Little Callum, sated from his feed, let out an enormous, contented sigh. Alexander burst out laughing—and Gwenllian’s mind was made up.
Tonight, they would rest after their long journey. But tomorrow night, she would see if Alexander agreed to be part of the adventure she had come here to claim.