Page 48 of A Husband for Esyllt
Esyllt woke up in the middle of the night, completely engulfed in Connor’s arms. Her nose was pressed against his chest, and she was almost buried under the covers. Warm... so warm. So safe. She moved and gave a sigh.
“Awake, sweetheart?” he asked instantly. Had he even slept?
“Yes.”
His hand came to her face and he brushed away a lock of hair from her brow. “Tired?”
“No.”
He gave a grunt and came to position himself above her. “Afraid?”
“No.” She smiled in the darkness and opened her legs to him.
“More?” The word was little more than a groan in her ear.
“Yes.”
An owl cried into the night.
Chapter Twelve
How was she going to face everyone?
As she placed her feet onto the rush-covered floor of the bedchamber, Esyllt wondered how she was going to handle everyone’s scrutiny, Matthew’s in particular. He had asked her not to be too harsh toward Connor the day before and he would see immediately that she had not been, quite the opposite. It seemed to her that what had happened last night in Connor’s bed had left an indelible trace on her. She would appear different, she was sure of it, and he would no doubt tease her about it.
And the servants? What would they say behind her back? Had they heard her cries of rapture? It didn’t bear thinking about but she could not see how they wouldn’t have. And what if they had seen Connor leave the room at dawn, looking disheveled and sated, what if they’d noticed the shadows under his eyes, betraying his lack of sleep, what if they’d heard them make love all through the night? How would she live it down?
Mortified, she splashed water onto her face.
The day she could see through the bay window was grey and drizzly. Extraordinary how the weather did not follow personalevents. Outside it was as glum as it had ever been when everything inside her felt warm. On the morning she had found Gwyn dead, sunlight had been pouring into the room. She still remembered thinking how incongruous it was to have such a scene of devastation lit up by golden sun rays.
For a long moment she sat on the stone bench, lost in contemplation. What would her first husband think of the feelings she was developing for the Englishman she’d been forced to marry? Gwyn had known their union had not been based on love. Would he be happy that she had found it in her second marriage? She wanted to think so.
Eventually, she stood up. She had to walk out at some point, and face the day, she could not stay in the room indefinitely. Steeling herself, Esyllt descended the spiral staircase. In the great hall there was no one to meet her.
Relief flooded through her. As it was much later than usual, everyone would have broken their fast already, which suited her perfectly. She sat down and helped herself to a loaf of bread that had been left for her, along with some cheese, honey and dried fruits.
She was just finishing her cup of ale when spurred boots were heard on the stone floor behind her. Such a masculine, evocative sound. Her heart leapt in her throat but the man facing her when she turned around was not the one she had hoped for. In fact, he was one of the last ones she wanted to see.
“Gruffydd.”
“My lady.” His bow was perfunctory.
“What brings you here?”
The smile he gave her had all the warmth of a snarl. “What do you think? Our plans. There has never been a better moment to strike.”
“Strike?” She blinked at him.
“Your husband. He’s been here for months now, he will have dropped his guard. I hear he was attacked by Morgan the other day at the village. Methinks it is time to put our plan to execution. Clearly nobody will miss him.”
I will miss him!she almost shouted.
The lump in Esyllt’s throat threatened to choke her. Foolishly she had started to hope that the Welshman had forgotten about his original plans and instead chosen to build on Connor’s unexpected willingness to act as mater of Castell Esgyrn and its domains. She had been married for nigh on three months and Gruffydd had stayed in the shadows all this time.
She understood now that she had only been lulled into a sense of false security. He had been hiding, biding his time like an adder waiting for its prey to get near so as to strike at the opportune moment.
“But, I thought we’d agreed it would be best to?—”
