Page 49 of A Second Chance for Carys
Carys didn’t have to look at her daughter to see how this arrogant speech would be received. Her own blood was boiling. The man was quickly making himself an enemy of them. He was taking pleasure in telling Branwen, who he knew to be Welsh, that his uncle had just crushed the Scots in the same way he had crushed her countrymen. Not only that, but he had made a point of calling her Mistress Hunter, as if to remind her, if she needed reminding, that she was neither noble herself nor married to a man who could lay claim to any title, his relationship with Lord Sheridan notwithstanding.
Weasel indeed, in more ways than one.
“You may, of course, rely on our hospitality for as long as you wish, but I’m afraid you will not get to see Lord Sheridan, or my husband, who is with him at present. Connor is in Wales, where he now resides, having found the country and its people much to his taste. I will be glad to tell your king when he comes that my brother-in-law fell deeply in love with the wife who was chosen for him. I’m sure he will be gratified to hear it.”
A smile tugged at Carys’ lips. Good for Branwen, who would not be intimidated and tell the pompous fool exactly where things stood. Wales and its people should not be dismissed so easily. There was more to them than met blind English eyes, he had better remember it.
“Mm.” As could have been predicted, the earl was not chastened in the least. Entitled, noblemen like him were not easily made to feel at fault. “Are you telling me that an Englishknight of certain prestige can feel at home in a country of savages?”
“Lord Sheridan apparently can, and I’m sure you would agree he’s a knight as worthy as they come.”
“No doubt about that. I’ve met him on two occasions. He’s a fierce warrior who’s always been loyal to the crown. So I wager that what you took for contentment is only the satisfaction of knowing he is doing his duty to king and country. Or…perhaps I’m wrong and Welsh women are capable of turning a man’s mind completely. Do you know, now that I’ve seen you, I can well believe that might be the case.” His voice became thick as boiled honey, and just as sickly. “Your accent is quite delicious, Mistress Hunter. As is the rest of you.”
From where she was, Carys couldn’t see the earl’s face but she didn’t miss the stiffening in Branwen’s body. It was not difficult to guess he would be eyeing her up with undisguised lust. She took a step forward, reminding him he was not alone with his host. He seemed to have quite forgotten it.
But instead of reverting to a more seemly behavior, when he heard her move, the earl waved her away like a bothersome fly. “You can leave us,” he snapped without even looking in her direction.
The look of panic flashing through Branwen’s eyes at the command lit a matching fear in Carys’ chest. The earl was dismissing her, with the obvious intent of seducing the lady of the castle while her husband was away. It was staggeringly bold of him but she could not claim to being surprised. English noblemen seemed to think women of lesser rank, and Welsh women in particular, were theirs for the taking. Nothing protected Branwen. Not the fact that she was married, or with child. All the Earl of Lancaster knew was that she was here, she was beautiful, and he was aroused. With her husband away, hethought nothing or no one could stop him from taking what he wanted.
Well, Carys would try if it killed her. She would have done so for any woman, but this was her daughter. She would not give up so easily.
“My lord, I think I hear horses passing through the gate. Perhaps it is the rest of your retinue?” she said in an attempt to make him see he had better not think of doing what he had in mind. “Or the king himself, having made good time?”
“I hear nothing. But by all means, go and see for yourself. We don’t need you here.”
“I will?—”
“Just leave, woman!” With that command he finally turned to look at her. His eyes were swirling with ill-contained irritation. It was clear he was trying to suppress a show of temper not for her benefit, but so as not to scare Branwen, whom he intended to seduce into surrender. “Mistress Hunter was about to show me Welsh hospitality. I think it is high time I see for myself what it is about Welsh women that pleases men as discerning as Lord Sheridan.”
As he obviously took her for a servant, there was nothing she could do. Even if she revealed who she truly was, namely his host’s mother, it would not matter one bit. Someone like her, though not exactly a menial, was of no consequence to an earl. As a noble, he outranked her ten times over. As an English subject, he was her superior in every way. As a man, he could dispose of her with a flick of his wrist.
She had no choice but to leave and find someone who could actually stop him. If not a noble, at least a strong, English man who could physically restrain him. Because there was no way she would allow anyone to rape her daughter, be he the nephew of the King of England.
“I’ll go and get help,” she told Branwen in Welsh, certain the man did not speak the language. “I promise you won’t have to?—”
“Will you just cease your blabbering and leave, before I have you whipped for your insolence!”
“Go,” Branwen instructed her softly. She looked about to faint but determined to protect her from the man’s ire.
Heart in her throat, Carys flew out of the door. James. She had to get James. Somehow, between them, they had to stop the lecher. They could worry about the consequences later. The important thing was to save Branwen from assault. How long would the earl countenance her refusal to be wooed? Not long, in all probability. And when he saw he would never be able to charm an agreement out of her, he would simply take what he wanted by force.
As she drew near the barbican, she saw a horse thunder through the gate, his reckless pace betraying the impatience of the rider. It did not take her long to identify him. Matthew! Back from Wales at the most opportune moment. Finally, fate seemed to be on her side.
Relieved beyond measure, Carys ran up to him. “My l?—”
“What is it?” he asked before she could finish the word. Obviously her anguish was all too glaring. He jumped down from his horse and took her hands in his. His face was a mask of worry. “Is it the babe? Branwen? Where is she? Am I too late?”
“The baby is fine,” she reassured him, while James drew near. He, too, it seemed, had picked up on her agitation. Not that it was difficult, she imagined. She could feel herself tremble. “She’s in the great hall, with the king’s nephew, the Earl of Lancaster. He arrived earlier that morning.”
Matthew’s shoulders relaxed and she hated having to renew his fears. Because although there was no problem with the baby, Branwen was most definitely in danger, and she needed help. Carys exchanged a glance with James, who instantly tensed up.He’d understood what the issue was, then…Perhaps, like her, he’d been unsettled by the kiss on the hand earlier, or perhaps he’d heard unsavory stories about the earl while talking to the men in his retinue. It mattered not how he’d guessed what was going on. He knew, that was the important thing. She wouldn’t have to impress him with the urgency of the situation.
“I stayed with them at first but then he sent me away. I fear his intent, he was looking at her with?—”
Before she could say anything else, Matthew let out a roar and turned toward the main hall, murder in his eyes. He didn’t have time to take more than one step, however. James had placed himself in front of him, as solid as a wall.
“You stay right where you are, my boy.”
The shocking familiarity didn’t even register on Matthew’s face. He grabbed James by the tunic, drawing him so close their noses touched. “You don’t understand! I have to go to Branwen, I cannot have her alone with a man intent on…She cannot go through that again! Not again, do you hear! I married her, I promised to keep her safe. Let me go, I need to stop the bastard before he?—”
