Page 19 of A Husband for Esyllt
“If he doesn’t suspect it already, then he really is as foolish and arrogant as the others. I have every reason to wish him ill, and so have you. So stop fawning over him and remember where your duty is.”
Chapter Five
“You will no doubt be relieved to know that I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” Esyllt’s heart started to pump erratically in her chest. Connor was leaving? And she was supposed to be relieved? She was not. In the last week she’d thought they had come to some sort of understanding. Was she wrong? Had all her efforts at conciliation come to nothing? He had still not bedded her, but he had come to her every night, and since the meeting with Gruffydd, he had even started to seek her out during the day.
And now he was leaving?
Far from being relieved, she was filled with dismay at the idea. Only a few days ago she would have been delighted to see him go but today... well, today she was not.
“Matthew and I are going to Sheridan Manor. There are some matters for us to attend to as we left in haste. We will be gone a few weeks, possibly even a couple of months, I do not know. In any case, it doesn’t matter, I imagine that the longer we are gone, the better. Our presence here has not been greeted with what I would call enthusiasm.”
No, it had not. And yet... It was not as bad as all that. She had started to see that the servants had thawed toward their new master. Because of the language barrier, they could not talk to him, but it seemed they were no longer avoiding him. It was a progress of sorts. As for her, she had made peace with the idea of being married again, because against all odds, her new husband was not the monster she had feared he would be.
“You might get a warmer welcome if you didn’t come back surrounded by so many fierce-looking knights,” she could not help but retort.
“Oh, so it’s my fault, is it?” He sounded amused. “Well, I’ll be sure to return with only a small retinue next time. It’s just as well. The men who actually want to come live here are few anyway, and I would hate to force anyone to settle in such a hostile country.”
Well, she had deserved that, she supposed. “That is not quite what I meant.”
“I know,” he soothed. “And I agree with you. Patience and persuasion can sometimes achieve what brute force can’t.”
She could only nod.
The next morning, as promised, Connor was gone. She watched him ride out of the gate with a heavy heart.
For seven long weeks Esyllt reverted to the life she’d been living since Gwyn had died. The irony was not lost on her. Married or widowed, she ended up being the sole one in charge of Castell Esgyrn. But whereas she hadn’t minded at first, she now did, because in a short week, she had seen what it would be like to have a reliable ally in what was a monumental task.
The only good thing about Connor’s absence was that she had gotten her daughter back. With the English gone, she had called for Siân’s return. Her pleasure at being reunited with the little girl and being able to assure her she would like her stepfather gave her the patience to wait for his return.
When the snow started to melt, she found herself looking forward to seeing him again. How much longer would he stay away? Would he even want to come back to Wales? He’d said few of his men wanted to live here, and she couldn’t blame them. Life here could be dangerous for the invaders. Entire towns were burnt without second thoughts, houses were razed to the ground for no reason at all, and people were killed as a matter of course. She would understand if he preferred to stay in the safety of his own home without the bother of the wife he’d only married to appease his king.
But the day the last patch of snow in the shade of the lists surrendered, Connor came back.
The retinue of Englishmen, much smaller than on the day of their wedding, passed through the gates on lathered horses. It was obvious they had been riding hard all day. Absurdly, the realization sent Esyllt’s nerves into a tangle. It looked as if he had pushed his men so that they could reach Castell Esgyrn before nightfall, instead of postponing their reunion for another day. She couldn’t understand why he would have done such a thing. After an absence of almost two months, another evening would have made no difference.
“My lady.”
Connor jumped down from the saddle and walked up to her, all tall, dark and brooding. In his chainmail and spurred boots, he looked even more formidable than in her memory, which was saying something.
To her surprise, once he’d stopped in front of her, he wrapped a hand around her waist, drew her to him and kissed her full on the mouth, leaving her slightly breathless—and thoroughly confused. It was not an intimate kiss, per se, but they had never shared such intimacy before, especially not in front of other people. Matthew, who, inevitably, was part of the retinue, seemed just as surprised as she was, and not best pleased.
“What is this, my lord?” Esyllt couldn’t help but ask.
“Can’t I kiss my own wife?” He kept her close while he spoke.
“You can, but I do not see why you would want to,” she replied with some spirit. “You leave me for weeks on end, you do not send so much as a word in all this time and now you are behaving as if we were passionate lovers.” It made no sense.
“Mm, not quite. Passionate lovers do more than give each other such tame kisses, you know,” he whispered in her ear. “If we were passionate lovers, I would have lifted you into my arms and marched you to your chamber before you could even take in a breath. And once I had kicked the door closed and thrown you on the bed, I would have fallen on you like a starved wolf devouring his prey, all this before I even removed my hauberk. You would this very moment be spreading your legs for me, and crying my name.”
Esyllt whimpered at the reaction his shocking words provoked inside her. Suddenly she wished he would do just that, sweep her into his arms and bring her to bed where he would feast on her. Well, she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had succeeded in filling her mind with lewd images.
“The point is, I do not understand you.”
How could she? The man was a mass of contradictions. He was wary of what she might do to him, yet he slept in her bed. He was her husband and an Englishman, yet he trusted her to administer Castell Esgyrn in his stead. He had left her a week after their wedding but upon his return he had kissed her as naturally as if he had been pleased to be reunited with her. He described shocking acts to her and talked of devouring her, but he had yet to bed her properly.
“There is nothing to understand,” he answered breezily, keeping her tight against his mail-clad chest. “We are married. It is natural that I should greet you after an absence of six weeks, don’t you think?”
