Chapter 41 #3
Richard took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I am no better. I have no right to judge you when I’ve not been here very long.”
Gwen dropped to her knees and cupped his cheek. “Nay! You have every right. He is your son, too. ’Tis not your fault you were not here.”
He looked at the baby on his chest, then back to her. “I have to go to Shrewsbury, Gwen. Dafydd’s trial begins soon.”
Gwen’s breath caught. They’d not spoken of Dafydd’s capture, the Welsh defeat, her father’s death, the future of Wales—nothing. She had not wanted to let it intrude on their lives yet and she sensed he did not either, so she’d not asked any questions.
“When?”
“The end of the week.”
She stared at William’s face, so much like his father’s. “How long this time?”
“Not very long. A fortnight mayhap. No more than a month, surely.”
“Oh.”
He stood very carefully. William shifted, but didn’t wake. “Come. Let us put him in his cradle.”
Gwen followed him to their adjoining chamber. He put William down and covered him. Gwen stood beside him and they watched the child they had made together sleep.
At last, Richard pulled her into his arms. She didn’t hesitate when he kissed her, and she was used to his urgency by now as he started to undress her. It was an urgency she still felt as well.
There was no room for words as they fell to the bed. To keep from waking the baby, he covered her mouth with his. Gwen couldn’t get enough of him. She bucked against him, her own pleasure strangely elusive for once.
He stilled. As he began to understand, a slow smile curved his lips. “I know what you need, cariad,” he whispered. He pulled her legs up and rested her calves against his shoulders. When he thrust into her again, he was so deep, so hard, stretching her almost to breaking.
It was exactly what she wanted. He joined his mouth to hers again, his tongue imitating his body, until she was completely mindless.
Later, when she was so sated she could hardly move, she heard him get up to check on William. He crawled back in bed beside her, and she pushed herself off her stomach to lie against his side.
“What will they do to Dafydd?”
“He will hang, more than likely.”
She bit her lip, not wanting to ask the next question, but needing to all the same. “What of William?”
He stiffened. “Gwen, do not begin this nonsense about him being the Prince of Wales. ’Tis impossible.”
Gwen fumed. How dare he dismiss everything Welsh as unimportant! “He will be prince. My father wanted it!”
Richard gripped her arms and pushed her up until they were both sitting. “Nay! He will not, Gwen! He is my son, he will be earl in my place.”
“You are hurting me.”
His grip eased, his expression softening. “You have to understand, sweet. Edward is the king of England and Wales. There will be no more princes. I am sorry, but ’tis true.”
Gwen shrugged away from him. “You are Welsh. How can you allow your son’s birthright to be taken from him? You and the king are friends. He would do it if you asked him. It was one of the conditions of our marriage.”
“That was before your father rebelled,” he said evenly. “And I am not Welsh. I am an Englishman, and so is our son. That is the end of this discussion.”
Gwen gritted her teeth. She wanted to rail at him, but she knew he meant it when he said it was over. Stubborn swine!
She left the bed and yanked her clothes on. When she went to the cradle, William’s eyes were open. He smiled when he saw her, and her heart swelled with love. She picked him up, cooing as he hugged her. She only wanted to protect him, wanted him to have all that was his.
Her anger dissipated the longer she held him. It was ironic really. She had once thought Richard coveted Wales for their unborn son, but now she was the one who was letting it come between them. And what had being prince ever brought her father?
Grief, strife, and death.
She thought of London, of the grand city with its amazing sights, of London Bridge and the heads rotting over its gates, of the Tower where her father’s head now reigned supreme over the walls.
She squeezed William tighter. Nay, she did not want him to have it, not any of it. England had won and life for Wales would never be the same again. King Edward’s new castles would ensure domination and his laws would ensure assimilation. It was over.
A sob escaped her, and she pressed her face to William’s neck.
“Cariad,” Richard whispered, his hands soft on her shoulders as he turned her to face him. She hadn’t even heard him get up.
“You are right,” she said, looking from him to William through a misty veil. “He will not be the prince of Wales, he will not follow in my father’s footsteps. ’Tis over, ’tis lost . . .”
“I am sorry, Gwen. In time, you will see ’tis best this way,” he said, hugging both her and William.
She smoothed her free hand over Richard’s bare chest. He rested his chin on top of her head. “Shrewsbury is but a day’s ride. Would you like to come with me?”
Gwen tilted her head back. “And William too?”
Richard smiled then. “Aye, William too. I do not wish to be parted from either of you.”