Page 55 of A Husband for Esyllt
“No, I ate some fruit and bread before leaving. But I want to see Jane,” the little girl answered, oblivious to her distress. “I’ve missed her.”
Jane. Oh, God. Esyllt’s insides collapsed anew. What would she tell her stepdaughter when she demanded to see her father? It would not be long before she asked about him. There would be no other choice but to lie, at least until they knew what had happened to Connor.
“Go to her then,” she told Siân. “She will be happy to see you.”
As she watched her daughter go, a sudden surge of hope pierced through Esyllt. Gruffydd had made a mistake. With her daughter restored to her, her hands were not tied anymore, and ifshewas powerless, she knew someone who was not, someone who would not rest until his brother was restored to him.
Picking up her skirts, she ran to the gates.
“Wait, Matthew, please, I need your help.” Esyllt was struggling to keep up with his long strides as he made no effort to slow down. She’d found him by the stables, as she’d suspected, shouting orders to the men, getting horses and weapons ready. But he was not paying her any attention.
“I have nothing to tell you. Connor is the one who needs my help.” He stormed toward his stallion, saddle already in hand. “I have to get him back.”
“Yes, but you don’t know where to find him, so you will have to listen to me, or you will lose precious time,” she pleaded. “I can tell you where he is.”
This stopped him in his tracks. “Keep talking,” he said, not looking at her.
“I think I know where Gruffydd would have taken him. If we hurry than we can?—”
“Where?” he cut in, finally facing her.
Despite the blazing eyes piercing through her, Esyllt let out a sigh of relief. With a man like Matthew on her side, even momentarily, she would get Connor back. It was all that mattered. He could unleash his anger on her later, she didn’t care. Whatever he thought of her, he would not let his brother down.
So she told him everything, how Gruffydd had not taken Connor back to his home, unlike what she had suspected at first. When Siân had told her she’d been left alone with the man’s niece, she had immediately guessed he would have taken him to Castell Ewloe instead, the residence of one of his vile friends. The castle, with its unusual location in the middle of the woods, would pass unnoticed to anyone who didn’t know where to look. It was the perfect place for a discreet execution.
Matthew nodded once she had explained where to find the hidden fortress and shouted his last orders. Hope surged anew inside her. Perhaps he would arrive in time to save Connor. Moments later, Matthew was thundering away down the east road on his stallion, followed by five men at arms. Wary to the last, he had refused to take her with them.
Esyllt settled herself for a long, agonizing wait.
It was only as the last rays of the sun were disappearing behind the horizon that horses were seen into the distance. Seven, to be precise. It was one more than the number of men who had left earlier that morning. Esyllt’s heart skipped a beat. Whoever was on the seventh horse, and she knew in her heart it would be Connor, was at least able to ride. If that was the case, then he could not be too seriously injured, much less dead.
She ran to the gate.
Please Lord, let him be whole.
A moment later she gazed into Connor’s green eyes. Her whole body sagged with relief and she had to lean on the barbican’s wall for support. He was here, he was safe. Then she realized he was looking at her as he would to an enemy.
So he knew what she had done.
Her heart seized in her chest while he dismounted, his movements less fluid than usual. He had been hurt then, just as she had feared.
“There, Brother. You cannot ignore it any longer,” Matthew said, jumping down from the saddle in turn. “Your wife is the one who sold you to the Welsh. She told me so herself. Now will you accept her responsibility in the whole affair?”
Well.
Connor had guessed there would be a traitor in the castle. His abduction had been too easy, the hue and cry had not been raised. He simply had not wanted to believe that the traitor would be Esyllt, not after the night they had spent together, not after they had bared their souls to one another. It had seemed too cruel a betrayal.
He bunched his fists, remembering her gasp of delight when he had entered her and the piercing realization that he loved her. For a moment, he had thought that everything would change between them, that they could start their marriage in earnest, but it had all been for nothing.
Fool!
Before addressing a single word to Esyllt, he made for the great hall. He needed food and ale as a matter of urgency. After a whole day spent without a drop to drink or a bite to eat, he was both parched and starving. Fortunately, he found everything he needed on a trestle table by the hearth. It seemed that his wife had been about to partake in a veritable feast, alone in her castle, while he faced his tormentors. The thought did little to lighten his mood. Ignoring her, he chewed on a piece of bread while he poured himself and Matthew a cup of ale.
Esyllt watched him warily all the while. She seemed to think it was better if she waited to let him speak first, in which she demonstrated great wisdom. He felt about to rip her head off and this would achieve nothing. He needed to calm down first.
“Is it true?” he asked once he had satisfied the worst of his thirst and hunger.
Mayhap against all odds there was an explanation for what had happened. His brother had never warmed to his wife and he was biased against the Welsh in general. Connor didn’t think Matthew would lie to him outright, but perhaps he’d gotten the wrong impression. He clung to this hope because thinking that Esyllt was responsible for his capture was just too painful. Still, he could not quite dismiss the possibility out of hand.
