Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Have you heard anything about Gwlithyn?”
Gwenllian had stood up at Alexander’s entrance to ask the question that had been burning her lips all day while she was waiting for him.
Last night, despite her fatigue, it had taken her a long time to fall asleep.
The knowledge that Alexander was naked in the room next to hers had kept her in a feverish state long into the night.
As a result, she had slept for longer than she usually did.
When she had finally made her way downstairs, Edward had informed her that his master had left at dawn and she was free to explore the castle while she waited.
This declaration had stunned her. Rather stupidly, she had imagined that Alexander would be here when she woke up.
But, of course, he’d no reason to stay with her, a woman he didn’t know.
Well, at last, here he was.
“Goo li thin?” he repeated carefully, walking up to her. “No. I’ve never even heard that word before. What is it?”
“My mare’s name. I was wondering if your people had found her.”
“Ah, I see.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, not yet.”
“No, of course not. It’s too soon,” she mumbled. She had suspected that would be the case but had wanted to make sure
Alexander crossed his arms over his chest and examined her. “So, you remember the name of your horse? That is good news. I told you you would start remembering. What else do you recall?”
Go drapia! Gwenllian bit her lip. How had she forgotten that she was supposed not to remember anything? She could only blame the love she bore the animal for this unfortunate slip.
“Yes. I remember the name of my mare,” she said with a frown, as if surprised herself. “But I’ve had her for years, so I suppose ’tis little wonder.”
“Mm. Of course, the same could be said about your own name, could it not?”
“Of course.” She did not dare meet his eye. Was he saying that he didn’t believe her loss of memory to be genuine? Perhaps.
“Gwlithyn. It’s an odd name. It sounds…” Alexander stilled, as if he’d understood something important. “Welsh.”
Oh, Lord, everything was falling apart, fast. “Yes, I think it might be.”
“And those green eyes… I thought I had seen them somewhere before, and I have. Your mother, Lady Sheridan, has the same eyes. You must be Gwenllian or Seren Hunter, her daughter. Lord Sheridan’s English residence is just a few miles to the east. Sheridan Manor.
I know of your family, even if I haven’t met all of them.
Sian, Christopher, Jane, Griffin, Rhys, Connor, Esyllt.
” He took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him.
“Do any of these names mean anything to you?”
Gwenllian was faced with two choices. She could lie and pretend she had no idea what he was talking about, which would put her in an impossible situation before long, or she could admit she had been lying all along, which would make her look like a fool.
Neither alternative was appealing. Still, she didn’t think she could sustain the farce any longer, not when she didn’t even know what she could gain from it.
And so, she decided to tell the truth.
“Yes, they do mean something. Everything. I’m Lady Gwenllian Hunter.” She swallowed. Would he get enraged at her deception? “I don’t know what came over me when I said I didn’t know who I was. I suppose I didn’t want you to think me ridiculous, so I thought it best to pretend I didn’t remember.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No,” he said bluntly.
“Perhaps not,” she admitted. “But I thought that if you knew who I was, you would know I was your friend Christopher’s little sister.”
“And? Why would that be a problem?”
Because I want you to see me as a woman you could seduce, not a silly little girl.
“Because… I don’t know why,” she finished feebly. “I just didn’t want it.”
“I suppose you were overwhelmed after the assault. It makes sense.”
It did, but she knew that was not the reason.
Silence fell into the room. Then, to her shock, Alexander gave a deep bow. “Well, Lady Gwenllian, it is lovely to meet you at last.”
She smiled, relieved that he was not mad at her deception, even more relieved that he didn’t seem to have changed his opinion of her. “I preferred it when you called me Buttercup.”
“I didn’t. It didn’t suit you in the least. I realized it last night.”
He said that almost fiercely, as if he were angry at himself. Her insides quivered. What did he mean by that? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“I’m sorry. Well, you can call me Gwenllian now.”
“I can try at least,” he said with a side smile.
Her smile broadened. She knew her name, with its very Welsh pronunciation, was difficult to attempt for English people. “You can try.”
“Shall we eat while we get properly acquainted?” he suggested, gesturing to the trestle table in the corner. Just like the previous evening, it had been laden with food, ready for his return.
“Yes,” she said, grateful the news of her deception had been so well-received. It would seem that Sir Alexander Rathbone was a generous, forgiving soul, as well as a sinfully handsome man.
They sat in the same place as the previous evening.
An enormous meat pie was taking pride of place in the middle of the table, surrounded by a colorful array of pickled onions, turnips and beets.
On one side of the impressive dish, they found chunks of cheese and slices of bread, on the other, various small bowls filled with dried apple, raisins and sweet biscuits.
It was obvious that this feast had been prepared on Alexander’s orders.
The problem was, there was enough food for six. It made her smile. Generous indeed.
“What are you doing here, then, Gwenllian? I thought you lived mainly in Wales, like the rest of the family.”
She was delighted at his attempt at her name, which he had said almost perfectly. “I’m on my way to Scotland, like I told you yesterday.”
“Any reason in particular? Such a trip is quite an undertaking.”
“Yes. Actually.”
He arched a brow, amused. “Would you care to share it?”
“I would,” she answered in the same tone.
After hiding her identity, she was determined not to keep anything from him.
He’d asked, so he would be told all about her plan, whether he liked it or not.
Talking about it out loud and seeing another person’s reaction would help her feel it was really happening.
“You see, I am destined to end my life in Wales, in the place where I was born, unmarried,” she started, “so I thought I would explore the world while I was young, live a little.”
He frowned. “What do you mean by ‘destined’ to remain in Wales? And how can you know for sure you’ll be unmarried? Are you about to join the holy orders?”
Holy orders? Gwenllian shivered at the thought of living in a convent. That would be a hundred times worse than living with Rhys. She might never get married, but at Castell Esgyrn at least she would be free to experience passion in a man’s arms and be with her family.
“No. Heaven forbid. I have no intention of becoming a nun.” She picked a raisin and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger. “And, in truth, I don’t mind staying for the rest of my life in Wales, as I love my country.”
“So?” Alexander picked a raisin and mimicked her gesture.
“So, old Myfanwy, told me I would live my life surrounded by bones and I—”
“I know not who this Myfanwy is, or why she thought it advisable to utter such a grim prediction, but I cannot say that I like it.” The raisin was chewed with decision.
Alexander might be generous, but he never shied away from speaking his mind.
“But why did you take what she said to mean you would stay unmarried?”
“Because the place where I live means ‘Bones Castle.’”
“I see.” The way he said this made it clear that he didn’t see, not really. So she hurried to explain, hoping he would not think her silly.
“Me living my life surrounded by bones means that I will end up living there all my life. Which means that I will remain unmarried. No married woman stays in her brother’s castle.
I know what you’re thinking—that one prediction uttered years ago is no guarantee of anything.
Indeed, I would think the same if I didn’t know Myfanwy,” she added before he could object.
“But I do know her. Everything she has ever predicted has come true, however odd, however far-fetched. She told Sian she would marry a man with two identities. And look what happened.”
Gwenllian did not elaborate. As his friend, Alexander would know that Christopher fit that description better than anyone else.
“Mm.” He didn’t appear convinced, however. “You still could prove her wrong, though. There is a first time for everything, isn’t there?”
“Yes.”
And this was precisely why she had set off for Scotland. So she could experience her first time with a fierce Scot, to ensure that if she were to never marry, at least she would not remain a virgin. Alexander seemed to read her mind.
“I see,” he repeated.
And this time, she had the impression that he did see. Heat invaded her cheeks at having been so thoroughly found out, but at least Alexander had not laughed. He’d even tilted his head, as if agreeing her reasoning made sense.
To give herself time to recover, she ate her raisin.
“So, yes, that is why I decided to go to Scotland. I hope this trip will give me the adventure I need and memories to last me a lifetime. But enough about me. There is something I would like to thank you for now that you know who I am.”
He waved a hand. “You already thanked me yesterday.”
“I don’t mean for saving me from the ruffians, even if I am grateful for that.”
“What then?”