Chapter 15 #2
“I suppose I had better go rescue Sir Stephen’s dog from Ellie and Lizzie. Will you come with me, Gwenllian? I fear that two of us will be necessary since a puppy is involved.”
The women left, and Alexander found himself alone with Christopher, who had not said a word during the whole exchange.
But his unusual eyes were alive with questions.
The blue one was glittering, while the brown one seemed to burn a path to his soul.
Damnation. His friend had guessed not all was as it seemed between him and the little Welsh firebrand.
Fortunately, at that moment, Matthew Hunter, Gwenllian’s uncle, called him, and he had no choice but to go. Alexander took the opportunity to slip outside into the dark night. He needed a moment alone to get his thoughts in order and his body under control once more.
What he had feared had happened. He had seen Gwenllian, and it had not taken him long to understand that his resolve to forget about her was in vain. She still made his heart beat faster and his blood sing.
He breathed in the night air but it was not long before someone came to stand next to him.
Christopher, as could have been predicted.
Alexander braced himself for the interrogation he felt sure was coming. At least they were in the dark, which would help conceal his thoughts—and the bulge in his hose, which had still not fully subsided.
“So, you do know Gwenllian, then?” It was not a question but an affirmation.
Yes. I know every inch of her delectable body, and she knows mine like no other woman does, having licked and sucked me until I lost all control.
“I do.”
“How did you meet?”
Because his mind was in turmoil, he didn’t even think of lying. “I rescued her from two ruffians attacking her last summer.”
The bark of a laugh split the darkness. “Like you supposedly did for Sian all those years ago, you mean? Very good, my friend.” The laughter stopped. “Now tell me, how did you really meet her?”
As might have been expected, Christopher thought he was jesting, but that was what had happened. It now seemed so long ago.
“That is really how I met her,” Alexander said quietly. And his life had not been the same since.
“Sian’s sister was attacked?” All traces of amusement had vanished from Christopher’s voice, and his hand had most probably gone to the hilt of his sword, a natural reaction. “And you never thought to tell me?”
Alexander shrugged. “I haven’t seen you in two years. I didn’t think you needed to know I’d met her. After all, with her family living so close, and you being married to her sister, I was bound to run into her sooner or later.”
“Yes, during a banquet or some such, not because she was assaulted and almost raped! Jesus, I did need to know about that, so I can—”
“Calm yourself. I stopped them. Nothing happened.”
No, nothing, except everything had been turned upside down.
“You should still have told me.”
Alexander knew that, and had Gwenllian been anyone else, or rather, had nothing else happened between them, he would have told his friend.
He had not wanted to keep his meeting with her a secret, but their dalliance, certainly…
It had therefore been better not to mention her at all, as he had feared betraying a level of interest in her that would appear suspicious.
The risk of doing so was all too real.
Christopher knew him too well not to detect that something was not as it should be.
And if he guessed what had happened, he might well strangle him for debauching his young sister-in-law.
The worst of it was, Alexander could not have blamed him because he had done more than debauch her.
Their first time had been at Gwenllian’s instigation, admittedly, and he might be forgiven for allowing himself to be swayed by her arguments. But the rest…
The rest had all been his doing.
In Scotland, he had let her tie him up and carry out the more scandalous exploration of his body with her hands and tongue.
Then he had enjoyed tying her up in turn and doing the same.
He had made love to her out in the open, ignoring the risk of being seen.
There had even been a naughty encounter on the battlements once.
In England, it had not been any better. The day she’d come back, he had pounced before she could utter more than his name and taken her up against a tree.
He had spent a week making wild, passionate love to her in secret and then, as if that were not bad enough, he had watched her ride away knowing they might never meet again.
All of this, Christopher would object to. Alexander would not put it past him to force him to make the offer of marriage he had callously denied Gwenllian.
The problem was, he could not.
For weeks, he had fought the urge to ride to Esgyrn Castle and beg her to come back.
When he had finally accepted that doing so would only lead to more trouble, it had taken him months to convince himself that the ending of their affair had been for the best. The whole thing had been a disaster.
And this time, no matter the attraction he still felt for her, he would not allow himself to be swayed.
He would have to tell her that whatever had happened between them was over.
And he would not touch her.
He looked at Christopher, who was still scowling. Now that he had told him how he’d met Gwenllian, he would have to distract him. If they carried on talking about her, it would not be long before his friend understood that there was more to this story than he’d let on.
“Do you know, I took part in a tourney last month, and a Lord Spelling had the gall to tell me that he was looking forward to beating me a second time, though I do not recall ever meeting him, never mind competing against him. I have no idea who he might be. Does that name ring a bell?”
As he’d hoped, his friend burst out laughing. “Yes. He is the late Lord Cantle’s cousin.”
In other words, Sian’s first husband, the old man who had married her to save her reputation but never consummated their union.
Alexander knew that already; he’d only mentioned the man to change the subject.
As soon as Lord Spelling had boasted about beating him again, he had understood what this complete stranger might be referring to.
Some ten years ago, in order to gain access to her, Christopher had taken part in a tourney organized by Sian’s husband.
He had done so under the name of Sir Alexander Rathbone and kept his helmet on at all times so as not to be recognized.
And in the final joust, he had run against Lord Spelling.
The man was therefore understandably convinced the two of them had already met.
“Did he beat you? I wouldn’t be surprised. You are less skilled than I am, pup.”
“Of course, he didn’t beat me. Unlike you, I did win the tourney, so maybe I am the better of the two.”
Christopher was not impressed by the argument. “I only lost that day because I didn’t want my identity to be discovered, and well you know it. I could have sent your Lord Spelling to eat dust a dozen times over.”
“You keep deluding yourself. The fact is that you didn’t. So we’ll never know what you’re capable of.”
“I can send you to the ground next time we spar if you like. Then we will know for sure.”
“I’m not worried, old man. You seem to spend more time running after children than wielding your sword these days.”
A snort. “If you think that keeping up with little Lizzie doesn’t keep a man in prime condition, then you can think again.”
There it was, the usual banter between the two men. But for the first time, Alexander felt ill at ease. He was keeping information from his friend, information that would cause Christopher to look at him differently, perhaps even cause him to demand retribution—and he hated that.
But what choice did he have?
It would be stupid to create problems now, when he had finally decided to put an end to his ill-advised dalliance with Gwenllian.
Gwenllian watched Christopher slip back into the great hall. He was alone, just as she’d hoped, which meant that Alexander was still outside. Here was her chance to speak to him away from prying ears and eyes.
Making sure that no one saw her leave, she stole outside and took a moment to peer into the velvety darkness.
There. The tall shadow she was looking for was standing by the north tower, delineated by the glow of a distant torch.
Heart thumping hard in her chest, she walked over to him.
Though he would have heard her approach, he didn’t show any signs that he was aware of not being alone anymore.
She came to a halt and waited, but there was no acknowledgment of her presence. Neither did Alexander turn to her when he finally spoke.
“What are you doing in England? I thought you were destined to remain in Wales. Or have you finally realized that the old woman’s prediction was not a real condemnation and you are, in fact, free to act as you choose?”
Gwenllian recoiled at the coldness in his voice and the mocking question. He hadn’t been anywhere near as scathing in the great hall earlier. But, of course, now that they were alone and in the dark, he didn’t have to school his face into indifference or refrain from telling her what he thought.
She’d known he’d never been shy, but this new side of him made her uncomfortable.