Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“Lady Gwenllian is here to see you, my lord.”
Gwenllian, was here, now? Why? Alexander stiffened, because he wasn’t sure he was ready to see her.
In fact, he wasn’t sure he was ready to see anyone, which was why he had come here.
He always took refuge on the battlements near the southernmost tower when he needed time alone to think.
Well, so much for the tranquility he had been after. Should he pretend not to be at home?
Too late.
Master Simon had already taken the decision to lead Gwenllian to him.
When Alexander turned around, the steward was holding out his hand to her.
Smiling her thanks, she climbed the last step leading to the top of the battlements.
She looked rather nervous but as determined as ever.
There would be no ignoring her or claiming he had to go somewhere else.
“Thank you,” he told Master Simon, who nodded and disappeared back down the stairs, leaving the two of them alone.
“I know you don’t want to see me,” she started before he could open his mouth. “But I could not leave things the way we left them.”
He sighed, because he’d felt uncomfortable as well. “I don’t not want to see you. Only I thought it was for the best. Or, at least, better than seeing you.”
What was he saying? His declaration barely made sense.
Jesus, but this woman really had the power to make him lose all his composure.
And why did she have to look so alluring?
She was wearing the simplest woolen gown, her hair was all in disarray after her ride, and yet she was…
stunning, every inch the woman he had never dared dream about and had somehow been forced to have.
Alexander ran a hand through his hair. This really was a mess, and he would rather Gwenllian had not come.
But, equally, he knew that if she had not, there was a strong chance he would have gone to her before the week was through.
Their discussion had weighed on his mind so much that he had not been able to think of anything else since the banquet.
As he’d lain in his bed awake last night, reliving it, imagining his future, a preposterous idea had started to take shape in his head.
What if he’d been wrong and he could actually consider marriage? He wouldn’t be the first man to take a wife despite a less-than-secure position. It didn’t necessarily need to end in catastrophe. What if he was being too cautious?
The problem was, of course, that he didn’t just want to get married.
He wanted to get married to Gwenllian. Now that he had met her, he wouldn’t be happy with just anyone.
The ideal bride would be her, the only woman who had made him question his lifelong resolve, who appreciated him for who he was, who fired his blood, made him laugh and who had made him happier than he had ever been.
But, alas, she was also the last woman who would have him.
It was very clear that he had been an adventure for her, nothing more.
She had neither expected nor wanted anything other than pleasure, as she’d reminded him at the banquet.
She had not been after a marriage offer, and evidently, that had not changed.
She had been ready to resume their affair, all the while knowing that she would then disappear, for another year or more.
So, even supposing he could find the courage to offer for her hand, she was not the woman he needed.
She was a Welshwoman who was destined, in her own words, to live in Wales, who felt at home in another country.
If he ever married, he wanted it to be to someone who took her role as mistress of Audley seriously and allowed him to raise their children by living with him.
A wife who spent most of her time in another country, taking them with her, would never suit.
Whichever way you looked at it, a future with Gwenllian was out of the question.
“Listen, I’m sorry for what I told you the other night,” he started, eager to at least apologize for his clumsiness. He had hurt her, and he hated the idea. “I shouldn’t have said that being together had been a mistake.”
It had been, but not in the way she would have heard it. It had been a mistake because it had put some unattainable dreams in his head.
Something like hope lit up in her lovely eyes. “So, you mean we can—”
“No. We have to stop seeing one another. It’s the only way to protect us both.” Protect her from his rampant lust and him from hopes that would lead nowhere.
A silence, during which she seemed to absorb what he’d told her.
“I understand. But I do not want you to get out of my life, even if we cannot be together, in…that way.” She gave a small smile. “I like you. That’s why I came here today. To tell you that I can accept not being your lover, but that I do not want to stop seeing you altogether.”
Nothing could have surprised Alexander more than this declaration. Was Gwenllian offering to be friends? Was such a thing even possible?
“I don’t know whether I can be with you and not want you,” he said in a low voice. In fact, he was certain of it. A man wasn’t supposed to lust after his friends.
“Honestly? I don’t know if I can do it either. But I want to try. Because if the alternative is never seeing you again, then it’s…” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t think I could do that either. I’ve missed you this past year.”
Alexander bunched his fingers into fists. What was she doing to him, talking like that?
To hide his turmoil, he started to walk in the direction of the barbican, making sure to keep Gwenllian to his right, against the crenellations. The path was wide enough for two, but he preferred to be the one overlooking the drop to the bailey, just in case.
“Friends or lovers, we will never see one another again anyway, or very rarely,” he said eventually. “Since you want to spend your life in Wales?”
She seemed to hesitate. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. And you were right last night. Maybe Old Myfanwy’s prediction is not a real condemnation, and I am free to act as I choose. Alasdair left his country and is blissfully happy. Why not me? I will not know how I feel until I try.”
Oh, hell, she really was making it hard for him to stick to his decision to keep his distance. But perhaps he didn’t have to. Because if she no longer wanted to live in Wales, he could see if—
No.
One thing at a time.
A snort down below caught his attention. Down in the bailey, he saw Gwlithyn, tethered next to Buttercup, but no other horse.
“Don’t tell me you came here alone?” he said, frowning.
Would she never learn? She had been attacked twice only in the last year. Thinking that she would have put herself in danger just to come see him was unbearable.
“No,” she answered. “I asked Ralph, one of the grooms, to accompany me, but I told him to go back when I arrived.”
Why? Had she assumed he would escort her back to Throckmorton himself when the time came? Or did she intend to remain here for the night? What would he say if she asked?
Footsteps were heard on the stone stairs before he could reach a decision.
“My lord, a letter was this instant delivered for you. The messenger has been sent to get a drink.”
Ah yes, Alexander had heard the horse on the drawbridge earlier, but, too intent on his conversation with Gwenllian, he had paid it no mind.
Peter, oblivious to the tension in his body, handed him a piece of parchment. Glad of the distraction, Alexander took the missive with a nod and started to unfold it. As he read the hastily scribbled words, his frown deepened.
“Damnation,” he said to himself. “My brother will be here tomorrow.”
“Colin?”
Gwenllian sounded appalled at the prospect. He could not blame her, considering how Colin’s last visit had gone. But though he could reassure her that it was not his youngest brother coming, this visitor was just as unwelcome.
“No. The eldest one. Hugh. Damnation! I haven’t seen him in years, and I can’t say I have missed him.”
Alexander stilled. Perhaps, despite his dislike of the man, he should be glad to see Hugh. It seemed like a sign. Only the other night he had thought that it was time to clarify the situation at Audley. This was a golden opportunity to do it face to face.
Yes, for once, Hugh might actually have done him a favor by coming.
He stuffed the letter into his tunic and turned to face Gwenllian. Without knowing quite why, he felt that this visit would be a turning point in his life.
She opened her mouth, as if to speak, then changed her mind and closed it again. Alexander’s heart skipped a beat. Had she understood, like he had, that his situation might be about to change and allow him to live the life he really wanted?
“Stay tonight, please,” he breathed. “I’ll need you if I’m to survive my brother’s visit. We’ll send a message to Throckmorton and—”
“No need. I already told Sian I would spend the night at Sheridan Manor,” she whispered back.
The minx. She had planned everything and assumed he would agree. That was why she had sent Ralph, the groom, away. He smiled, though he should perhaps chide her. “Excellent.”
Just then, a handful of riders were seen approaching from the south.
At their head was none other than Hugh. Just like Colin’s chestnut stallion, the cream gelding was too distinctive for Alexander to be in any doubt as to the rider’s identity.
Bloody hell, wasn’t he supposed to arrive tomorrow?
Some time to prepare for the encounter would have been appreciated.
What had happened? Had the messenger been delayed on the road?
Well, no point worrying about it now. Hugh was here.
Unable to believe his bad luck, Alexander gestured to Gwenllian that they should go back to the bailey and welcome the retinue.
“It would seem that my brother is here already,” he said between his teeth, though she would have understood that by herself.
Without a word, she followed him down the stairs and over to the gate.