Page 30 of A Husband for Esyllt
“It’s not a compliment,” she said weakly, unsettled by the light flashing in his eyes. His “transparent eyes”, as Matthew had rather aptly called them.
“Indeed it is not. Saying that you chose to marry me rather than a self-centred, hot-headed brute is hardly flattering.”
“And not true either. I had no say in this decision, as you reminded me only the other day. I did not choose you for any qualities you might possess.”
Connor barked a laugh when she had expected him to flare up. “Oh no, I will not fall into that trap, my lady. I will not presume to tell you what you should think of me. I will leave you to decide on your own what my qualities might be.”
“A hazardous decision, as I may not find any.”
Esyllt wondered what was urging her to tease him so, and then she understood. She was enjoying herself. As was her husband, if the twisted lips and glittering eyes were any indication. As unlikely as it was, they were deriving equal pleasure from their verbal jousting.
“I will take that risk. I’m fairly confident that you will find at least one or two redeeming qualities about me. If not, then so be it.”
“So be it. We are married now.”
Or were they? Technically, the marriage had not been consummated yet. To her relief, he did not point that out. Instead, he drew her into his arms. The move was so unexpected that she did nothing to stop him. For a moment he just held her tight and she focused on the beating of her heart.
“No need to sound so glum, dear wife. Being married is not a death sentence. For you, at least,” he murmured in her ear. “I know that I am at your mercy, my little Welsh murderess. I might wake up one morning and find myself tied to the bed with you poised over me, ready to strike, with a candle or with a dagger. If only you agreed to shed your clothes while you do so, I believe I would die a happy man. I might even try to persuade you to delay the execution until I’d had my fill of you.”
Esyllt felt herself grow red to the roots of her hair. His smell was so enticing, his voice so seductive, his words so provocative... It was all too much. She could feel herself becoming soft and pliable, and her will melting way.
She took a step away from him before she could beg him to kiss her, properly this time.
What was happening? Only a moment ago they’d been enjoying some banter and before she knew it, Connor had reverted to talking in the velvety tones of a lover. He was accusing her of wanting to kill him, but he was doing so in a sensual purr, all the while talking into her ear. He was not jesting with her anymore, he was seducing her.
What was she to do? How was she to deal with a man capable of such ambivalence? He was supposed to hate her, not seek her company, he was supposed to enjoy watching her struggle with her enemies, not help her out. And she... She wasn’t supposedto be attracted to him, this man who had been forced upon her, who had taken pleasure in humiliating her the very night they’d met, who had still not made their marriage valid and could spurn her at any moment because of it.
What was she doing, being rooted to the spot in front of him? Bantering with him?
She should walk away, not look at him like a prey too transfixed to move in front of its predator.
Behind them a servant coughed. He was hovering by the door, a couple of logs cradled in his arms, not knowing whether he should enter and disturb them or retreat and come back another time. Seeing the confusion on his face gave Esyllt the jolt she needed.
“I will ride into the village and see Branwen,” she muttered. “I know she went to the fair the other week. I daresay she will have news to share.”
The way Connor tilted his head indicated he’d guessed this was just an excuse. They both knew she had seen her friend the day before. Any news of the fair would have been imparted then. “I dare say she will,” he said nonetheless. “Something about having found the people there ridden with boils no doubt. It is bad news, but at least it means that you will be able to converse in Welsh.”
Esyllt almost laughed out loud. He remembered what she’d told Matthew in her fit of rage yesterday. This touched her soul as surely as his seduction had stirred her senses. “Yes. Not to mention that the weather has been awful of late. That should give us plenty to talk about.”
“Ride away, then, wife.” He took her hand and kissed it in a gallant gesture. “As long as you come back to me.”
“You can’t run! I’ll only catch you. And then you’ll be sorry!”
While Esyllt wondered who Connor was threatening with retaliation, Jane and Siân rushed past her, giggling like the two little imps they were. She smiled at the shriek of delight they gave when another roar from Connor reached them. Relief swept through her. A game, that was all. No retribution was coming. She rounded the corner of the keep—and found herself all but catapulted into Connor’s arms.
They almost fell to the floor together, but he steadied her with two hands around her waist, something a less strapping man would have been unable to do.
“Careful here, little wife.”
“What are you doing?” she rasped. The feel of his hands on her body, although it had prevented her from falling flat on her face, had sent her senses all aflutter.
“I was running after the girls. They wanted a game of hide and seek.”
“And you agreed?” She was incredulous.
“Why, yes, why wouldn’t I?” He smiled. That smile reduced her already shaky limbs to jelly. “Surely you don’t believe me so dim-witted so as to not understand how to play the game?”
“I do not think you dim-witted,” she replied, half-amused at the teasing, half-mortified by her inability to hide her turmoil from her voice. She sounded just as affected as she felt. “But perhaps unwilling to join in such childish games.”
