Читать книгу In Debt To The Enemy Lord - Nicole Locke - Страница 14

Chapter Six

Swiftly entering the Great Hall, Teague strode to the two chairs set by the smaller fireplace. He needed solace and some wine, two flagons full, and not necessarily in that order.

He had not known Anwen was taking a bath or he would never have gone in the room, but once he’d entered, he’d been unable to leave.

He hadn’t meant to make accusations, but her anger and the way she’d trembled as she stood overrode his better judgement. He didn’t know whether to help her or to wrap her in his arms and kiss her. And he had wanted to kiss her, of that there was no doubt.

Teague shifted his position on the chair and rearranged his legs. Though she argued and spat words at him, the impulse to taste those luscious lips was overbearingly strong. Her lips, like forbidden fruit, had captivated him in the forest; now he was on fire to taste them.

‘What has put you in such a mood?’ Rhain asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He glanced at his brother. ‘I’m surprised to see you alone.’

Grinning, Rhain gestured wide with his arms. ‘Well, I cannot help that this dark and gloomy stone has been bereft of my presence for so long. Can you blame the girls for wanting to bask in my sunnier disposition?’

‘I doubt Mary and Anne are there for your disposition,’ Teague said.

Rhain crossed his arms and shook his head. ‘Mary and Anne following me into the lists today isn’t what has raised your ire. Indeed, you can hardly complain when my betterment of Peter, your captain, was extraordinary...as usual.’ His eyes turned speculative. ‘Has there been another message?’

Teague shook his head. ‘I asked the woman to come down to speak.’

‘You mean to question Anwen again?’ Rhain’s voice held a hint of amusement. ‘Did you bring a change of clothes?’

‘She is better.’ Teague caught the eye of a passing servant and requested wine and food.

‘You have spoken to her then?’ Rhain sat in the other chair, stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles.

‘Yes.’ Teague wished he talked to her through the door. He’d entered that room to confront her, but all thought had gone once he saw her. Her eyes had been closed, her head arched against the back of the tub, the mounds of her breasts glistening from the hot water. The water was deep, but the crests of her knees, thighs, legs, were shown sleekly. She was, as in the forest, revealed and yet concealed.

No, the feeling of lust was stronger this time. Because this time, this time, she was in his bedchamber. She had been so tangible to him in that instant, he had almost felt her, tasted her, sunk deep within her. Then she had opened her eyes and challenged him. Her trembling took whatever control he had over his lust and mingled it with his need to protect. He could not leave the room fast enough, but it hadn’t helped the ache in his loins.

‘That may explain your tenseness,’ Rhain said. ‘I find it curious she makes you prickly.’

‘I do not get prickly.’ Teague shifted in his seat. ‘I do not know who she is and am wary.’

‘The Devil of Gwalchdu is wary of a slip of a girl. Well, this place is certainly not dull. I will sit with you and await her arrival.’

* * *

Keeping close to the wall, Anwen carefully made her way down the stairs. At least her pace and the view from the stairs allowed her to take in the emptiness of the castle.

Gwalchdu’s Great Hall’s opulence, though it was expected, overwhelmed her. To be sure, she knew Edward and the Welsh Prince, Llewellyn, had visited Gwalchdu, but this Hall even outdid royalty’s comfort.

Several large hunting tapestries covered the walls. Where there were no tapestries, thick opulent red-and-green-coloured linens hung and shimmered against the light. Standing candelabras and large sconces provided flickering light. Two fireplaces, of different sizes and opposite each other, brought warmth and ornamentation to the hall. In the middle, three long trestles were flanked by equally long benches. These trestles were intersected by another, which should have been placed on a dais to separate the lord from his soldiers, but it wasn’t. It was level, indicating equality between the lord and his men. The sole indication of privilege at the high table was the ornate cushioned chairs and the huge fireplace behind the table. Both were used to provide the lord the greater heat and comfort.

At the other end of the hall was a smaller fireplace, and two large padded chairs occupied by men whose hair reflected dark and light in the firelight. Anwen strode forward.

Teague heard her first and stood, and Rhain rose after him. The setting sun filtering through the windows was weak, but the lights from the fires shone through her damp unbound tresses that curled like a halo of gold. As she walked, the white of her gown flowed angel-like around her small frame.

‘My God.’

‘What say you?’ Teague’s eyes did not leave Anwen.

‘I thought you mad for bringing her here.’ Rhain spoke low, his eyes riveted on the vision walking towards them. ‘But now that I see her like this, as you must have seen her at first, I believe you the sanest man alive.’

With shuttered eyes, Anwen paused before them. She was still unwell. Her hands trembled and the pallor of her skin shone with exertion just from the small walk.

She had wide blue eyes, with eyelashes so pale they should have been unnoticeable, but instead, the golden colour made her eyes shine. Shine? He quickly rejected the frivolous thought.

‘You came,’ he said, his voice gruff.

‘As you commanded,’ she answered.

Teague looked much changed from when she had seen him earlier. Freshly washed, his hair was wet, and he was finely clothed in a dark blue tunic. The aesthetic affect was almost as unnerving as him standing bare-chested before her. Damp, his hair waved thickly and the tunic fitted his shoulders and skimmed over his chest and abdomen. He was covered, but it did little to hide what was beneath.

‘Do you always follow commands?’ he asked.

‘If they are not unfair.’ Anwen would not curb her tongue.

Rhain coughed. ‘It is good you have fared well.’

Anwen assessed the two men in front of her. From their colourings to their personalities, the contrast between them was stark. Both men were tall and their muscles were outlined even in their clothing, but there the similarities ended. Teague was dark from his hair to his eyes to his countenance. He looked every bit the devil, hewn from far below the earth’s surface. Rhain, his golden handsomeness elegantly garbed in rich red fabrics, was powerfully built, but he was leaner and more graceful looking. He looked hewn from the sun’s light, as if God himself had created a man-angel.

Anwen gave Rhain her most winning smile. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Teague’s frown deepened, but she paid him little heed. If he was an angel, perhaps she could appeal to Rhian’s mercy. She would press any advantage he could give her. She must.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘My headaches seem to be gone now and I have most of my strength. I fear I would not have fared so well had you not taken great care of me.’

Rhain returned her smile and gave a slight nod. ‘I am glad, despite my desire for you not to be hurt at all. Would you care to sit?’ Rhain indicated the chair he had been occupying.

She was weak, but sitting would increase the position of power Teague held over her. Still, she appreciated kindness, since she so rarely received it, so she gave him another smile.

‘Rhain, Peter needs you in the stables,’ Teague said.

The lord’s brother’s friendly face turned implacable as he gave her a nod. ‘Of course, how discourteous of me to forget. If you’ll excuse me?’

It was the mischievous twinkle in Rhain’s eye, before he turned away, that worried Anwen more than Teague’s frown. It was as if he knew a secret. But what? Teague had ordered him away. Demanded again as he was wont to do.

To be alone with her.

Whatever advantage she hoped to have with Rhain was gone. Only now it was replaced with an acute awareness of how alone she was with the Traitor.

His previous words still vibrated through her. In the bedchamber, had she revealed her body’s treacherous response to him? She was dressed this time and prepared. Whatever happened then wouldn’t happen to her again.

But Teague didn’t speak and it still didn’t matter. Something of his silence vibrated through her, too. She listened to Rhain’s every step as he walked towards the Hall’s doors, and every thump of her heart in her chest sounding like that of a captured bird. Then there was a creak of the door, a gust of unsympathetic wind brushing against her limbs and more of Teague’s watchful silence.

She didn’t want to sit, but her legs were weakening.

‘Are you well enough to answer some questions?’

Ah, yes, he was too watchful. But her stubbornness and strength had been honed by men who flaunted their power and control over those who were weaker. How many times had she protected herself and Alinore against Urien’s fists?

She might feel no anger from Teague now, but she felt his power, as she had since the first time she saw him. And somewhere deep in his silence and scrutiny she felt an insidious connection between them like a creance she’d snared herself on.

It didn’t matter if it had started when he caught her under the tree, or comforted her in the night. It would end as soon as she returned to Brynmor. In the meantime, if her legs were weak and her head hurt, she merely needed to hurry along this encounter with the Traitor. ‘Whether I answer yours depends on whether my question is answered.’

Teague’s eyes narrowed on hers, but then he waved to the servants, who brought two flagons of wine and some fruit and bread and set them on the table between the chairs. ‘Before we get to the questions, perhaps we should have some repast.’

Anwen did not take her eyes from the man who knew she wanted to rush this discussion. He understood it so fully, he was forcing her to wait.

Still, the food and repast gave her a reason to sit where he indicated, so she did. The plush chair immediately supported her just when her body needed it.

Now she wouldn’t worry about fainting. She merely had to tolerate his scrutiny and match it with her own. Prepared, she wouldn’t respond to him as she had standing naked before him. But when he took the opposite seat...something changed.

It was the deft way he picked up a green apple and cradled the ripe fruit in his sure hand. It was the way he bit into it and the way his eyes didn’t leave hers as she watched the cords of his throat when he swallowed.

Her eyes went to his again. There was a different gleam there now. One which made her aware of the intimacy of them sharing a fire, a meal and a private conversation. His sudden predatory manner reminded her of their exchange upstairs. Despite her garments, despite the strength sitting gave her, she felt naked, exposed. Vulnerable. It was enough to shake her.

‘Why am I a prisoner?’ she asked.

‘Is that what you think you are...a prisoner?’ Teague bit into the apple again. This time she was prepared for whatever strange reaction she experienced before. Prepared, but no less affected. He was merely eating, but the way he did it... The smooth bite of his teeth, the sound of the crisp apple. The way he cradled the fruit.

She felt more like a prisoner than when she was locked in the room. Yet nothing kept her here except for his presence and the way she reacted to him.

‘You’re no prisoner. I merely provided a guard to give you some protection. Do you believe you have committed a wrongdoing to justify imprisonment?’

‘How could I commit a wrongdoing when I was asleep for days?’

Teague tossed the apple into the fire, but her eyes remained on him, so she saw the smug curve of his lips as he continued. ‘Perhaps it is what you were doing before you fell that we should be discussing.’

‘What do you mean?’ Her actions prior to her injury were none of his concern. If he didn’t want people to come to his village, then he shouldn’t have stolen the best tanner in the region.

‘You are from Brynmor,’ he said.

Anwen just managed to hide her surprise. ‘Yes, it is my birthplace.’ So it wasn’t the tanner but her home that concerned him.

‘So you admit to living in a Welsh minor prince’s home?’

‘I don’t know what you mean. There have been no Welsh princes since Edward’s wars. We are all English now.’

‘But you do admit Brynmor was at one point an enemy manor?’ he pressed.

‘I believe that is a matter of perspective. Your home could just as easily be termed an enemy castle.’

‘Are we enemies?’ He stood and clasped his hands behind his back. He did it so suddenly, so restlessly, the move surprised her.

Anwen stood along with him, moved away from the chair, the repast and the warmth of the fire. She wasn’t fooled by his friendly tone; she knew a trap was being laid. ‘King Edward has declared we are not.’

‘Then what were you doing in Dameg Forest so close to Gwalchdu?’ Teague began circling her.

She felt like a hawk’s prey and had a sudden instinct to move her head to follow him. Instead she stared straight ahead when she answered. ‘My home is near yours and Dameg Forest. If we are not enemies, then there is no wrong in being in the forest.’

‘You know Alinore, Lord Urien’s daughter?’

‘I am well acquainted with her.’

‘And Robert?’

‘One would hardly live at Brynmor without knowing its English-appointed Governor,’ she answered through the tightness in her throat.

‘What is your position at Brynmor?’ he asked.

It was the question she dreaded. Her positions were many at Brynmor, and all of them would give anyone cause to question her veracity. It would hardly do to tell him the truth of who she was at Brynmor: bastard-born and unwanted. That Alinore was her half-sister and Lord Urien her father. But she could not avoid the question, so she chose one of her occupations.

‘I am an astringer,’ she answered.

Teague stopped in front of her. ‘An astringer?’

She hated that incredulous smug tone. She was good as an astringer and people needed her. ‘I work with hawks.’

‘It’s an unusual occupation for a woman,’ he persisted.

‘Any occupation is unusual for a woman, but that is what I do,’ she said.

‘There are other occupations that women do that are not quite so...unique.’

‘How like a man to think bearing children is a woman’s only occupation,’ she retorted.

‘It wasn’t the bearing of children I had in mind.’

Anwen’s face heated. She should have known he would turn their conversation to appeal to his lust. But whatever purpose he had in embarrassing her shouldn’t matter. Her entire desire was to return to Brynmor and be done with the conversation.

‘These are not questions I can provide answers to,’ she retorted. ‘You talk this way to embarrass me and I’ve little knowledge or care as to why. All I know is I am held here against my will and given no courtesy as to the reasons.’ She wasn’t worried about fainting or weakness or her head aching. Anger and frustration kept her strong now. ‘You’ve now asked your questions, and I want mine answered. Can I go free?’