Chapter 10 #3
William de Valence chuckled. Red Gilbert’s face twisted in a knowing smirk. “I am sure you will make up for it once the door to the nuptial chamber closes.”
“Aye, likely to keep us all awake with the lass’s screams of pleasure ringing through the castle till the dawn,” said Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln and Salisbury.
Edward’s brother, Edmund of Lancaster, Derby, and Leicester, affectionately called Crouchback, glanced furtively at Eleanor seated out of earshot, but lowered his voice anyway.
“The way I hear it, Richard and Ned fucked their way through every whorehouse between here and the Holy Land. He’ll wear her out long before dawn, then he’ll start on the serving wenches! ”
The men guffawed. Gilbert slapped Edmund on the back, forcing him to spit out the wine he’d just drunk. Edmund coughed, wiping his mouth on his velvet sleeve. Edward sauntered over.
“What’s so funny, brother?”
Edmund looked up, tried to speak, then broke off in a fit of giggles. The other men laughed. Edmund sank to the bench and found himself on the floor. He looked around for a moment, startled, then started laughing again.
“Christ almighty, Edmund, ’tis by the divine grace of God that you were not born first,” Edward said, rolling his eyes in mock disdain.
Edmund blinked, giggling. “Amen, brother. I’d not want your crown for anything.”
Edward turned to Richard. “What’s got him so tickled?”
Richard lowered his voice. “He was chronicling our exploits in the finest pleasure houses of Christendom.”
“Ah, it seems it must be nearing time for the bedding then, eh? Talk always seems to turn to sex when people are anxious to proceed with the ceremonies.” His brows drew together. “Who is that young Welshman your wife is talking to, Richard?”
Richard turned to follow Edward’s gaze. They were the only men in the room who could see over the crowd. “Rhys ap Gawain,” he said, moving before Edward could reply.
“The Earl of Dunsmore has many enemies, does he not?”
Anne jumped. She turned to glare at the newcomer. She did not like being startled, and she did not like sharing her plans.
The man let his gaze wander down her body, then back up again. Anne tingled. He was handsome, with his dark auburn hair and beard, and his green eyes. He wasn’t tall, not like Richard or the king, but he was lean and hard. “What makes you think I am his enemy?”
“’Tis written on your face, my dear. You hate him.” He walked behind her. Anne stood still, waiting. Her heart quickened. Then she felt the press of his hard body against her back and his hot breath in her ear. “Jilted you, did he?”
Anne stiffened, furious. She spun around to face him. “Who are you?”
“Your color only confirms it,” the stranger said, laughing. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Dafydd ap Gruffydd, at your service.”
Anne felt a rush of desire at his touch, saw the answering look in Dafydd’s eyes. “Well, well, a Welsh prince,” she said.
“Mayhap you will go for a walk with me. I hear the gardens are lovely at night.”
Anne extracted her hand. “There are no gardens, Highness.”
Dafydd smiled. He was really only a lord here in England, since Edward recognized Llywelyn as the Prince of Wales, but he was still a prince by birth. “You’ve not told me your name,” he said as she started to walk away.
“Lady Anne Ashford.”
“Ashford. I am familiar with Ashford Hall. Mayhap I will drop in one day.”
Anne lowered her lashes and shot him a coy glance, then turned and walked away. Dafydd ap Gruffydd. As much as she wanted to stay and flirt with him, she already had other plans for the evening.
“You are supposed to help me, Rhys!” Gwen cried.
Rhys’s eyes flashed. “I’ll not help you find Dafydd. He’s a traitor to our people!”
“That’s really rich! You deliver me into the clutches of Black Hawk de Claiborne, yet you won’t help me find Dafydd?” She’d been looking for her uncle since she’d managed to get away from the dancing, but he was nowhere to be found.
Rhys gripped her shoulders. “I’d not have brought you if you had even once asked me not to do it! I’d have taken you away and to hell with everything.”
Gwen shook him off angrily. “Fine, if you won’t help me, I’ll go alone!”
“If you leave the hall, I will follow. Your husband will think we are trysting.”
Gwen’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t!”
“I would. He already thinks we are lovers. How do you think he will react knowing you’ve gone off with me on your wedding day?”
Gwen’s jaw worked but no sound came out. How dare he! After all she’d done to keep Richard from killing him, this was how he repaid her. Her hand cracked across his cheek.
He stared at her without speaking. Red bloomed where she’d slapped him and Gwen was instantly contrite.
“Oh, Rhys, I am sorry,” she said, caressing his cheek.
His expression softened and he covered her hand with his. “That doesn’t hurt half so much as knowing you will be in his arms tonight when you should be in mine.”
He kissed her palm, then released it. Gwen bit her trembling lip. “You were the best friend I ever had!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “I will always love you for that.”
He hugged her tight, rubbing his face in her hair. “Let go before he sees you,” Rhys said softly, though his arms tightened for a second.
Gwen planted a quick kiss on his mouth, then turned and hurried away. She scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes, crying out when she collided with something solid.
She stumbled back, her breath catching.
Richard held out his hand.
She threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Rhys was gone. Her hand trembled as she slipped it into Richard’s. He led her to the dais and nodded to the King.
“’Tis time for the bedding!” Edward announced. The crowd cheered. Gwen sagged against her husband. Only the two of them knew it was he who kept her on her feet.