Page 27 of A Husband for Esyllt
“Don’t. This oneisan ogre,” Esyllt warned. “He might be one of the most good-looking men you’ve ever seen but he despises the Welsh. I’m not sure he doesn’t despise all women, come to that.” She made a face. Since his arrival, he had not had a kind word for her. The only compliment he had paid her had been when he’d posed as her betrothed. Oh, how he must have enjoyed duping her. “The man is as stubborn as they come and seems determined to make my life uncomfortable.”
As if to prove the truth of her words, it wasn’t long before he spotted them. He must have a sixth sense where she was concerned. A smirk on his lips, he walked toward them while Connor vaulted on top of his stallion.
“Plotting again, Lady Sheridan?” Matthew always made a point of using her title and making it sound as if she had usurped it.
“No. I’m afraid the Welsh language is far too primitive to discuss anything as subtle as political upheaval,” she answered, as Connor started to ride toward them. My... He was at one with the strong animal, and just as elegant. She could not tear her eyes from him, even as she carried on talking to Matthew. “All we can do is talk about the awful weather plaguing our country or compare our respective skin diseases. Be assured that all the plotting that is conducted against England is conducted in English.”
Connor laughed as he brought his horse to a halt by her side. It was a warm, appreciative laugh that reached a place deep inside her. He might not like to be challenged, but he seemed to like it when she challenged others. It was a start.
“Well, Matthew, that is all good information for you, desperate as you are to further your knowledge of all things Welsh.” He tilted his head to her. “Thank you, wife, that puts us back in our place. We shall leave you and your friend so you can discuss your revolting bodies and ungodly weather in peace.”
Matthew bowed, looking none too pleased. It was not hard to imagine that, usually, the two brothers were on the same side and he had not like being mocked.
Branwen let out a little nervous cough. Never one at ease with confrontation, especially with men, her friend tried to soothe the sting of her rejection. “Forgive Esyllt, she’s?—”
“Who?” Matthew cut in, contempt curling his lips.
“Me!” Esyllt cried, goaded beyond endurance. “Believe it or not, my name is not Lady Sheridan.” She knew the wretched man thought she was only allowed to exist in relation to Connor, an Englishman. “It is Esyllt ferch Llewelyn.”
“Of course it is,” Matthew said on a laugh. She glared at him. Difficult as he might be, at least her husband would never dare do anything so hurtful as to mock her just for having a Welsh name. “And how on earth are we supposed to say that?”
“With your mouth, like everyone else. And if you can’t, then I suggest you keep it shut.”
With this sally, she stormed in the direction of the solar.
Later that afternoon, shortly after Branwen had left, Esyllt received Gruffydd’s visit. She braced herself for a difficult moment. The old man’s behavior, never what she would have called pleasant, was quickly becoming unbearable.
“How are things going with the Englishman?” he asked, looking around with an eagle eye. “Has everyone turned against him yet?”
“No, and that might well never happen, for he is a fair and measured master. The people here at Castell Esgyrn have nothing bad to say about him. He has not given them any cause for complaints, quite the contrary.”
This answer, for all its honesty, was not to his liking. “We had better start giving them cause for complaints, then, hadn’t we?”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Rumors can ruin a man. A few chosen words falling into the right ears, and someone who was admired can become the most reviled man in the country. Lechery, murder, everything would be believable coming from an Englishman. No one would question what they hear. Besides, as he cannot understand what the servants would say, or even realize they were talking about him, he would be unable to set things right. ’Tis perfect.”
“You would stoop so low?” Esyllt was both incensed and disgusted.
“I would do whatever is necessary to make the accursed English think twice about coming here and stealing what’s ours.”
He meant to lie and paint Connor as a lecherous, dangerous tyrant, a murderer. He could try, but she would have no part in it. “I will not spread slander against my husband,” she said with decision.
If Connor was to be hated or despised, let it be for something he had done, not because an evil man was working in the shadows to besmirch his name.
Gruffydd had made her marry him, and in doing so, he had placed her in a position of strength. She was no longer a pawn in his game. She was a married woman now, mistress of her owncastle, with men ready to do her bidding. She was not powerless anymore. He could not make her do his dirty work.
“I’m not sure it would work anyway,” she said more amenably, thinking it safer not to antagonize him too much. Perhaps he could be made to see reason. After all, if what he wanted were better conditions for the local Welsh people, this could be achieved through peaceful means. “I told you, his actions have made clear to all that he is not to be feared in any way. The fact that he turned out to be so reasonable in his dealings with our people could be used to our advantage. He could perhaps win around some of his more powerful friends to our way of thinking. It would be a more long term, profitable solution, as I’m sure you’ll agree. If you get rid of him, he will only be replaced by another, less amenable lord.”
Gruffydd was not interested in her arguments. He grabbed her by the elbow and drew her to him. “Stop trying to justify the unjustifiable. You will heed my instructions or, I swear I?—”
“Are you threatening my wife?”
Connor appeared as if out of nowhere. His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the intent in his voice or in his eyes. He was glaring at Gruffydd, certain he’d interrupted an argument. Though he didn’t understand Welsh, he would have picked up on the aggression in the man’s voice and her defensive position.
“Your wife!” Gruffydd scoffed. “You need not behave as if you doted on the woman. You only married her because I arranged it.”
“That doesn’t make her less my wife than if I had arranged the union myself.” Connor was still calm but the undertone in his voice was now icy. Esyllt shivered. In a moment he might well start making threats or even draw out his sword.
