Chapter 1 #3
“I will be in here. Remember. Your family’s fate is in your hands. Obey me and you will be rewarded. Jeopardize the success of the deception and they shall all die.”
Siaspar ap Morgan, master of Castell y Ddraig sent everyone away from the solar with an impatient gesture.
The interminable wedding feast was over, and thankfully the next part of the proceedings would require no witnesses. As reluctant as he was to do so, he would now have to go and consummate his union to Lady Malpas, otherwise his efforts in securing this union would have been in vain.
Aged five-and-twenty, Siaspar was still unmarried, and this state of affairs was about to be his salvation.
Not that he was old by any means, but most of the men his age had been married for years.
He, however, had been too busy to think about taking a wife, or even woo many conquests.
In the last decade, all his energy had been spent doing what his father had tried his whole life to do.
In a country torn apart by bloody campaigns, Morgan ap Gruffudd, the ambitious son of a brewer, had made friends in the right places by his involvement in the resistance and thereby built himself a small but respectable situation.
This and his reputation of loyalty to the Welsh cause had allowed him to catch the attention of several local lords.
One of them had agreed to foster Siaspar when he’d reached the age of seven, even though his birth was nowhere near as prestigious as that of the other boys he had welcomed at Castell y Ddraig over the years.
Hardworking, clever, and determined, the young Siaspar had earned the respect of the ageing lord and made himself indispensable. When the man had died, a few months after his only son who’d been killed during a hunt, he had left his estate to the only person worthy of the succession in his eyes.
Which was why at the age of nineteen, Siaspar had become master of Castell y Ddraig.
It was a stunning achievement for a brewer’s grandson, and he intended to ensure all his and his father’s hard work didn’t go to waste.
But never had he thought that marriage would be the best way to achieve security.
Until now.
A union to an Englishwoman he did not know was the last thing he could have wished for himself, but the necessity for a beneficial alliance had been impressed upon him by his entourage.
His foster brother, Cadell, with whom he’d grown up, had been the most eloquent.
“Since that accursed English king, Edward, took over the country we have no rights, we have been reduced to being worse than criminals in our own country. You know that most of the estates around have been confiscated and given away to his advisors.”
Indeed, Cadell’s own family estate had been seized the day he had turned sixteen, putting an end to his dream of being a knight when he turned one and twenty. A decade later, he still had to build his fortune back.
“Only last year, it was Llewelyn’s,” he carried on.
“By some miracle, Castell y Ddraig has managed to escape this fate. How long before some English lord decides to simply seize it? Take my advice. Marry an Englishwoman since you are still free, protect what you and your father worked so hard to obtain, ensure that your children are recognized as English citizens, and grow up to be safe and respected. I will have to do the same myself soon, galling as it may be.”
The arguments had struck a chord within Siaspar.
How could he bear to lose everything, just because he had not given marriage a thought until now?
It was not just about him and what he had struggled to build.
He had a responsibility to his tenants, Welsh people who would not like being ruled by a pompous, or even worse, a cruel new English master.
Cadell was right.
An alliance with an English lady of middle standing should be achievable and would benefit not only him, but also his children later on. All he needed to do was find a woman who would be amenable to a union with a “savage.” Unfortunately, that was how the English saw his countrymen.
Although many Welsh people hated the English on principle, Siaspar himself was more measured.
He was fair enough to recognize that not every single one of them could be accused of villainy, especially a woman who had not even been born the day the treaty handing over his country to England had been signed.
Which was exactly what his bride was.
Lady Malpas could not in any way be held responsible for the late king’s decisions. A union with her was a stroke of luck that would ensure that his children had English blood and thus would never be considered second-class citizens.
She was the sister of one of his friend Dewi’s numerous English acquaintances. Three months ago, upon returning from a visit to Allerby Castle, Dewi had sung the lady’s praises. She was beautiful, accomplished and most importantly, her brother was desperate to find her a husband and get rid of her.
So desperate that even a Welsh lord would do.
Trusting his friend’s opinion, Siaspar had resigned himself to offer for her hand.
After all, marrying her didn’t mean he would have to change his ways.
As long as they produced an heir or two, husband and wife would be free to live their lives the way they wanted.
It was the way many such arranged unions worked.
That it was not what Siaspar would have wished for was neither here nor there.
As expected, his offer had been gratefully accepted by Lady Malpas’s brother. What no one had anticipated was that Siaspar would find his future wife so little to his tastes, or that she would be so strongly against Welsh people.
Had the two of them talked but once before the wedding ceremony, he would have understood that what he had been told about her was a gross exaggeration.
If she was just as beautiful and accomplished as Dewi had painted her, she was also the least personable woman he had ever met.
Her haughtiness was all you noticed. Her features, harmonious as they were, were unable to make you forget that her mouth, which could have been beautiful, was permanently set in a sneer.
As if all that were not enough, he had yet to hear her utter anything that was not a complaint.
That she hated Wales, all it represented and everyone inhabiting it, was clear.
Dear God, what had he got himself into?
But by then, it had been too late to change his mind about marrying her. The woman had left her family and her country and had traveled ten days with a full retinue to come to him—he could hardly send her away now. Her brother would no doubt make her pay for the rejection.
In any case, his dislike of her was of little consequence.
He had hardly expected to fall in love with this wife chosen for convenience, and he didn’t intend to live with her as a devoted husband.
She was here for a reason and this reason was not to appeal to his senses or his mind.
The fact that she was English was all that mattered.
From her point of view, he imagined that things were much the same.
She would concentrate on the advantages brought to her by this union and try to ignore the rest. Despite her misgivings toward him and her new country, Siaspar could tell that Lady Malpas was keen to enjoy the status being married would bring her and relieved to finally be out of her brother’s influence.
This cold arrangement would have to suffice. But there was still one thing left to do to make the union indissoluble.
Consummate the marriage.
The last thing he wanted after having gone to all this trouble was to allow anything to put the union in jeopardy. He needed to make it official.
Yes… But beautiful as she was, Lady Malpas did not stir his blood in any way.
Most people, him included, would have called the wedding night an unpleasant moment for the bride, not the groom.
He was fast coming to change his opinion.
Evidently, it could be both. Bedding this woman would be as close to an ordeal as lovemaking could ever be.
He steeled himself because there was no other choice. No one could do it in his place.
Lady Malpas—he still refused to give her her proper title in his mind—had told him that she was aware of what was expected of her and would not deny him his rights.
Siaspar had almost laughed out loud at the word.
His rights! She had made it sound as if he should be honored to be allowed to touch someone like her but to him it felt more like a chore than a privilege to take this cold, haughty woman to bed.
There would be nothing pleasurable in doing what was expected of him.
He would have to bed her in total darkness, for she had informed him during the wedding feast that she would not countenance for it to happen any other way.
That suited him fine, because he’d rather not see her disapproving scowl or witness her grimace of pain when he took her maidenhead.
In the dark, he would be able to imagine she was one of his lovers.
She would not be his reluctant bride but someone else, someone he had chosen.
Siaspar drained the remainder of his wine and went up to her room before he could persuade himself that he could simply lie about having consummated the union. He could not do such a thing, as the lady might use the excuse later on to annul this marriage she had never desired.
That could not be allowed to happen.
Tonight, whether he wanted it or not, Lady Malpas would be bedded.