Chapter 5 #2
One corner of his mouth crooked in a mocking smile. A dark eyebrow arched upward. Gwen felt her cheeks heating. She lifted her chin and turned to the King as he began to speak.
“Since you are of an age to marry, Gwenllian, it is my duty as your king to find a husband for you. I have chosen Lord De Claiborne.”
“No!” she cried, leaping to her feet.
“I am afraid you have no choice, my dear,” Edward said, leaning his chair back on two legs.
Gwen took a deep breath. She balled her gown in her fists and told herself there was nothing to fear. “Welsh women cannot be forced to take a husband against their will. I do not wish it.”
“You are not a typical Welshwoman, Gwenllian. You’re a princess first and as such you are my ward. ’Tis my divine right as your king to arrange your marriage. You will obey me.”
Gwen fled to her father’s side and grabbed his hand. “Father, you cannot allow this! I’ll marry anyone you wish, do anything you ask of me, but do not make me marry Black Hawk de Claiborne,” she pleaded in Welsh, her eyes searching his.
He extracted his hand and turned his back to her. He stared out the window, and when he spoke, his voice was cool, devoid of emotion. “I’m sorry, lass, but I cannot do anything about it.”
It was happening again. He would not save her. She was being trotted out as a sacrificial lamb, only this time the man who took her was quite capable of slaughter.
Gwen mentally shook herself. She was Llywelyn ap Gruffydd’s daughter for God’s sake! She was supposed to be a brave Welsh princess, not a coward who would beg for rescue from her duty.
She touched his arm. “I will not fail you like my mother did,” she said quietly.
He stiffened and she spun around and walked over to the king.
Since she had no choice anyway, she would enter into it with dignity, with bravery worthy of her great father.
“Very well, Your Majesty. I will marry Lord de Claiborne.”
Edward took her hand in his, rubbed little circles in her palm with his thumb. “I’m glad you see it my way, sweet. The wedding will not be for some months yet. Whilst we finalize the terms of your dowry, you may return to Wales.”
“Thank you, Majesty,” Gwen said. Tears hovered beneath the surface but she swore she would not cry in front of these English bastards.
“Well, Llywelyn, I think we should allow these two a few minutes alone to get better acquainted,” Edward said.
Gwen panicked. “Nay, Majesty, please. ’Tis not necessary.”
Edward stood and smiled down at her. He was tall, though not quite as tall as Richard, and lean. His face was almost boyish in its handsomeness.
“Ah, are you afraid of my fierce-looking friend, my dear?” He raised her hand to his lips. “Never fear, Richard is tame enough with the lasses. He’ll not harm you.”
The room seemed deathly quiet when her father and King Edward were gone. The fire crackled and the wind whispered against the stone outside.
She knew when Richard rose from his chair. He had the quiet grace of a cat, but the chair creaked beneath his weight as he stood.
He stopped beside her and she slanted her eyes toward him without turning to face him. He shifted his weight and she let her gaze trail down the long leg that was thrust to one side.
“Why were you afraid to be alone with me, Princess?”
She didn’t answer and he leaned toward her until his face was scant inches from hers.
“Afraid you couldn’t control yourself, sweet?”
Gwen whirled on him. “If not for the wine, as you pointed out, I would have never allowed you to touch me!”
He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest. Gwen gasped and tried to jerk away, but he held her fast. Even through the layers of his clothing, his skin seared her palm.
“Yes, but what made you touch me, sweet? Do you blame that on the wine too?”
Gwen succeeded in wresting her hand free of his grip. She wiped it very deliberately on her dress.
His jaw hardened and he swept her from head to toe with an infuriating glare.
“Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Princess. I don’t really care how many men you’ve had before now, but there had better be no more.
If you come to me pregnant, I’ll pack you off to a convent.
I’ll not accept another man’s brat as my heir. ”
Gwen’s mouth dropped open. “You think I—you mean that—”
He arched an arrogant eyebrow. “I’ve bedded enough women to recognize desire when I see it, sweet. ’Tis not the sort of thing one sees in an innocent young virgin, at least not so quickly.”
Gwen felt a rush of anger so strong it almost blinded her. She didn’t even think before reacting. All she heard was the crack of her open palm against his cheek.
And then she was jerked against his body, hard. She looked up at him, unable to tear her gaze away. God, he was so intimidating!
The hard planes of his face seemed chiseled from stone. Black brows drew together over eyes that reminded her of a frozen mountain lake, eyes that bored into hers relentlessly.
Good Lord, this man was Black Hawk. What had she done?
Gwen bit her lower lip to cease its trembling.
“I hope you enjoyed that, because you will never do it again, I assure you,” he said, his voice washing over her like cool silk. His gaze settled on her mouth and Gwen felt a strange shiver ripple down her spine.
“Did you think of me often this past year?” he asked softly.
“Never!” She tried to jerk away, but it was as if she’d never moved.
“Liar,” he whispered.
“Let me go!”
“Not yet, sweet. We have unfinished business, you and I.”