Page 1 of A Second Chance for Carys
Prologue
James Mortimer had never believed in miracles.
The succession of tragic events in his life had made it very hard for him to believe in a benevolent god watching over mortals with the tender care of a father. He was more inclined to think the god in question cruel and intent on spreading misery for his twisted amusement. Why else would he have taken the people he’d loved from him, and left him to deal with the awful pain alone? No, miracles didn’t exist, he’d known it for years. But today, he was forced to see that the god could, on occasion, at least show some compassion.
Brow arched, he reread the letter in his hand.
I will be home at the end of the month with my bride, Branwen ferch Gethin, her sister, Eirwen, and her mother, Carys. My father, Richard, will also be with us. From now on, he will live at Sheridan Manor. Please get everything ready for us.
Well, James thought ruefully, if that wasn’t a miracle, he didn’t know what was. Or rather,twomiracles. Not only had Matthew Hunter been reunited with his long-lost father, a man he had hated all his life for abandoning his mother—or so he’d thought—but he was now married. To a Welsh woman no less. Not a man easily given to mirth, James afforded a chuckle. This, he would have to see for himself.
How had the woman managed to ensnare him in so little time? He had made no secret of his animosity toward the Welsh when he’d been forced to leave England a little over a year ago to follow his brother. When Connor had agreed to marry a Welsh woman on the king’s orders, Matthew had urged him to refuse.
It seemed that, unlike what he’d feared at first, the Welsh weren’t all savages. At least, the women weren’t. So much so that he’d married one of them when James had started to wonder if the man he’d long considered as a son would ever settle down.
Tucking the missive into his tunic, he gave his orders to the servants. Matthew’s bedchamber was to be given a good airing, the rushes replaced throughout the castle, the tapestries dusted. The bride’s mother and sister would share a bedchamber in the east wing, which was the most comfortable, and Richard would be allocated a room in the west wing. It would be good to have people at Sheridan Manor again, it had been rather lonely since the two brothers’ departure.
A few days later, everything was ready. Just as he was thanking the servants for their hard work, a rider cantered through the gate, heralding the imminent arrival of the travelers. Later that day, a small retinue was spotted on the road from Wales. Perfect timing.
James walked over to the gate to welcome everyone.
Chapter One
England, May 1297
England.
So this was it. Carys looked at the landscape surrounding her, finding it not so different from the rolling hills she was used to. And yet. Yet it could not be more different. She was now in enemy country, away from home, away from everything and everyone she knew, with little hope of ever returning. The Welsh part of her life was over.
Of course, she could have stayed behind, but she had been unable to let her daughters go on their own. The two sisters, who were only her daughters by choice, would now reside in England. Branwen, the eldest, had just married a powerful English lord’s brother and he had agreed Eirwen could come live with them at Sheridan Manor. When given the option of going as well, Carys had taken it. How could she not? They were her only family. She would not be separated from them.
ButEngland…
Carys had been twenty-six years old when the English king, Edward, had invaded her country. Since then, she had heard the English described as the enemy, and it was true she had seen some horrible deeds since they had implanted themselves in the conquered land. But she refused to believe they were allthe same. Matthew Hunter, her new son-in-law, at least, was a good man, as was his brother, Connor, who everyone agreed was the fairest and most efficient ruler Castell Esgyrn had ever seen. They were heading for the two men’s family seat so she had hopes she would be made welcome there, and not be treated as an oddity, or a savage. There was little chance Matthew, who loved Branwen fiercely, would allow anyone to bother his wife or her kin.
Still, on her first night on English soil, she barely slept for nervousness. Then, little by little, as she realized that nothing she was seeing could be called worrying or even out of the ordinary, she started to relax. Perhaps this would be all right.
By the time they came into view of Sheridan Manor, five days later, she had lost most of her diffidence. But the first glimpse of her future residence stole her breath away.
Arglwydd Mawr!
It was even grander than she had supposed. How had Branwen married a man who was, despite his lack of title, master of such a place? She stole a glance at her daughter. Atop a magnificent bay palfrey with her husband by her side, himself riding a snow-white stallion, she had never looked more regal or, which was the important thing, happier. Carys could never thank Matthew enough for having given Branwen the life she deserved. If that life was to be in England, then so be it.
As long as her daughters were happy, she could face anything. As a woman well past her fortieth year, and a widow, her life was over anyway.
Later that afternoon, the retinue passed through the gate and came to a halt. Half a dozen men were waiting in the bailey to welcome them. A rider had been sent ahead, so they would have been warned about their master’s arrival. A tall, elegant man dressed in black approached. The steward, probably. She’d heard about this James Mortimer who had made it possiblefor Matthew to be reunited with his father Richard, a humble carpenter. By all accounts the man was efficiency personified. Judging from his stern demeanor, she could well believe it.
Matthew jumped down from his horse and addressed him with a smile. Carys did not even try to understand what they told each other. She only knew a handful of English words, and she doubted the two men were thanking one another or counting up to ten She would have to learn the language, she reminded herself for the hundredth time, now that she had arrived in her new home. Her life would be hell otherwise.
The man glanced at her and she couldn’t help inhaling in surprise. He had the blackest eyes she had ever seen. Theonlyblack eyes she had ever seen, she amended quickly. She hadn’t even known eyes could be black up until now. The effect was stunning, rather like staring into the night sky with all the stars sucked out of it, leaving only the dizzying void. But considering his complexion, any other eye color would have jarred, rather like seeing a stray crystal amongst a sea of obsidian. Everything about him was sombre. His hair was the blueish hue of a raven’s wing, even if it was streaked with silver stands at the temples, his skin was darker than the average person’s and he was dressed fully in black.
All in all, he was the very image of the English warrior she had dreaded to meet. Not that his expression was in any way threatening or that he was carrying any weapons. He didn’t have any scabbard and he looked mild-mannered and kind. But striking nonetheless.
While he turned his attention back to Matthew, she jumped down from the saddle with undisguised relief. A week on the road had taken its toll on her body. Even as a young woman, she would have found the trip taxing, as she had not ridden horses often. There simply had been no need.
“All right, Mam?” Branwen asked, guessing she would be stiff after the long ride.
“Aye,cariad, don’t worry about me.” Carys nodded toward the people assembled in front of them. “The English will want to welcome their new mistress, go speak to them.”
