Daughter of Time: A Time Travel Romance (6 page)

I turned back to the village, Goronwy beside
me. I wore a bow and quiver, and my new boots my mother had given
me for my sixteenth birthday. Other than that, all I possessed was
what I stood up in. Sometimes, finally facing what you most fear
turns out to be no more difficult than putting one foot in front of
the other.

With Goronwy, I stumbled
into Aber, my Uncle’s seat in Gwynedd on the shores of the Irish
Sea. The day could not have been more opposite from today—sunny and
hot, early September instead of January. Though I’d been a favorite
of my grandfather, my Uncle Dafydd had been wary of me—and me of
him. He had feared that I would lay claim to Gwynedd in the name of
my father.

Yet, even in my novice
days, I knew to do so would be foolish; knew that I would have to
earn the right to lead our people. I did learn, and learned well,
everything he had to teach me, both good and ill. I was beside him
when he died of that hideous, wasting disease, and was ready to
stand in his stead from the moment he laid his hand in mine and
passed his kingdom on to me—his father’s kingdom, along with his
vision of a united Wales.

In Wales, a boy legally becomes a man on his
fourteenth birthday. Yet I knew, for me, it was the day I walked
away, defying my parents, my Uncle Dafydd, and the King of England.
Goronwy and I made our way to Aber and my uncle’s court, finally
putting my feet on the path to destiny.

As I faced my counselors in my office, the
consequences of that day reverberated still, beyond my own thoughts
and dreams. Because I’d refused imprisonment, it was I who stepped
into my uncle’s shoes upon his death. And while it was Dafydd who’d
been most harmed by my decision to abandon my family, it was I
who’d paid the price for his resentment.

Perhaps what irked me more than anything
else was that Dafydd, as it stood now, was my heir. No matter how
strongly I held the reins of Wales, no matter how great my power,
no woman had given me a child—any child. Every hour of every day I
faced the fact that my line died with me if I was unable to sire a
son. I clenched my fists but then relaxed them, noting the look of
curiosity on Goronwy’s face. He, of all my companions, knew me
best—and himself had articulated our mutual fear.

But I was only forty years old—true, most of
my people died before the age of forty, but I was still vibrant and
strong, my hair as dark as it had ever been, my back straight.
True, I didn’t look forward to sleeping on the ground amongst my
men as much as in my younger days, but I could do it.

“Dafydd aside,” I said, “I would like to
hear your thoughts on the news he brings. I’ve never met this young
heir to the Clare line, but I’ve heard that he has ambitious plans
for himself. What kind of threat does he bring to us?”

“He wears his earldom well,” Goronwy said.
“Why do you think King Henry tried to keep it from him for so
long?”

Tudur slapped his fist into his palm. He had
little patience for those who couldn’t keep up with his fast brain
and faster tongue. “We can’t allow him to build a new castle. It
violates our agreement with King Henry and puts your entire rule
into question. If one Marcher lord can do it, any of them can.”

“They all will try,” Goronwy said. “You know
they will.”

“It is much as it was with your uncle,”
Geraint added. “The moment your back is turned, each man looks to
himself and his own patrimony, with no thought for the future of
Wales.”

“The Marcher lords have never concerned
themselves with anything but their own power,” Tudur said. “They
are unlikely to start now.”

I paced to the chair behind my desk and
threw myself into it. “Gilbert de Clare assails me in the south,
Humphrey de Bohun and his whelp of a grandson in Brecon, and Roger
Mortimer at Montgomery. They will maintain a constant pressure,
exerting just as much force as they can get away with without open
war.”

“Clare risks that with this castle at
Caerphilly,” Goronwy said.

“Henry has made it clear to all his barons
long since that they can keep what they take, both from our Prince
and from each other, as long as it doesn’t affect him,” Tudur said.
“This castle is in disputed territory—territory that is only Prince
Llywelyn’s as long as he can hold it.”

“Which I’m not doing now!” I said. “I can’t
be everywhere at once, can’t maintain a standing army along the
whole of the Marche!”

“The men of Brecon chose you as their lord,”
Goronwy said. “Bohun couldn’t lead them now, even if he held the
land. The men of Senghennydd will follow a similar course. They
will fight for you and not Clare, just as in Brecon.”

“We can’t leave it to chance,” Geraint said.
“And we can’t send Gruffydd ap Rhys there by himself. He wasn’t
able to stand up to Clare the first time; I fear he will back down
the second time as well.”

“He’s stronger than that,” Goronwy said.
“The fire in him is lit. No man can be picked off like a daisy and
banished from his lands without finding out where his spine
is.”

“Or isn’t,” Tudur said.

I shook my head. “Gruffydd will stand
strong. With my help and the support of my men, we can put him back
where he belongs. Send word to him at Dinas Bran to meet me in
Brecon.”

“So we go?” Tudur said.

“Yes, of course we go.” I sat forward to
finger the map in front of me. “We will ride south along the coast
road, swinging east to come into Brecon. From there we will
reconnoiter Senghennydd.”

“What if Dafydd brings false news for some
devious purpose of his own?” Tudur said.

I looked at him, and I could feel the mutual
holding-of-breath among the other men. Tudur refused to back down
and instead met my eyes. “Let it go, Tudur,” I said. “This news
from Clare isn’t surprising. I admit Dafydd took a certain glee in
its report, but I have no reason to think it false.”

“And the woman?” Tudur said, pressing
further.

“Excuse me?”

The three men exchanged glances. It was
obvious that they had discussed this on their own before tackling
me with it.

“Ahem.” Tudur cleared his throat, suddenly
nervous under my glare where before he’d been defiant. “Has it
occurred to you that the woman arriving as she did might be part of
a plot, whether Welsh or English? A spy in our midst if you
will?”

A barked a laugh. “Most definitely it has.
However, Marged didn’t recognize Dafydd this morning, nor he her.
Besides, how often does a spy bring along her baby daughter?”

“That’s the point, my lord,” Tudur said.
“Dafydd’s news on the heels of her appearance makes me
suspicious.”

“Your constant occupation, I know.” The
others smiled, relieved I hadn’t lost my temper completely.

“We know nothing of her, my lord,” Goronwy
said. “It’s not your usual practice with . . .ah . . . women.”

I rested an elbow on the arm rest and my
finger to my chin, studying him. “You noticed that?”

“My lord—” Goronwy said.

I cut him off. “You’re right. It isn’t. Be
that as it may, she has my countenance and a safe haven in my
house.”

All three sat back in their chairs, hearing
the finality in my voice. “Yes, my lord,” Goronwy said.

Then I relented. They didn’t know of the
events of the evening before, but if they did, they would be even
more concerned. Why wasn’t I? My shoulders sagged. The day had
begun so well, but it wasn’t just my own life I risked, but all
Wales.

“I ask you then, in your judgment, is it
better to leave her here or to bring her and her child on this
journey?” I said.

“Leave her at Criccieth,” Tudur said
immediately. “We are far from England and she can do little harm
here. She’s only a woman, after all.”

Geraint glanced at his son and then brought
his attention back to me. “Is Dafydd coming with us, or staying
here?”

“He’s staying here,” I said. “He told me
that he had business in the north and hoped I would relieve him of
his duty to attend me. His insistence on it saved me from having to
refuse him space at my side.”

“Then I would bring the woman,” Geraint
said. “I share some of my son’s concerns, but I also know that if
she is innocent, she would be fair game to one such as Dafydd. You
must admit his prowess with the ladies is nearing legendary status.
Just to spite you, he would seek to turn her head to him, knowing
that she has already shared your bed.”

“That’s quite an indictment,” I said.

“It is,” Geraint said. “I speak only because
I have your best interests and that of Wales constantly in my
heart.”

“I will watch her, my lord.” Goronwy said,
suddenly more sure. “If she rides with me by day and stays with you
at night, there will be no chance for her to engage in any
mischief. By the time we reach Brecon, we will know her character,
for good or ill.”

“Is that satisfactory to you?” I said to
Geraint and Tudur. Only Geraint would be riding with us. I needed
Tudur to keep an eye on Dafydd. Geraint, though as crafty as ever,
would have a harder time keeping up with my brother.

“Yes,” Tudur said, nodding slowly. “I will
hold the north for you, as always.”

Chapter
Five

T
his was so not
acceptable. It might be all right for Mr. Llywelyn Fantasy to live
his life in the thirteenth century—and it was clear now that he
must be part of some sort of intentional community in which a whole
lot of people were living that dream with him—but I had to get
going. Mom and Elisa would be worried sick by now. Had they called
the police? If so, what would they find?

The thought nagged at me. I didn’t know what
had happened to my car or where I was. I remembered sliding into
the embankment next to the tree on which Trev died, but nothing
after that other than a gaping blackness. I concentrated, trying to
recall the impact. Wasn’t there a blue-gray sky? No snow, but a sea
instead? How was that possible?

I lay in bed, listening hard. Sounds I’d
interpreted as a fan, or the sloshing of a washing machine, or
heavy breathing in and out, could easily be waves on a shore. We’d
spent a summer at Cape Hatteras after my dad retired and I’d loved
falling asleep to the waves rolling in and out. How far from Radnor
had Llywelyn taken me? Could I be on the Jersey shore
somewhere?

It was hard to believe that I’d survived the
crash unscathed, except for an ache in my neck and a throbbing in
my head. Anna slept on, apparently completely fine and Llywelyn
himself had so far proved to be harmless, seemingly even forgiving
me for trying to kill him. I rolled onto my stomach and stuck my
face into the pillow, moaning at the thought. It was
stupid,
stupid, stupid
of me to have tried to grab the knife as if I
was some sort of karate expert.

I’d taken a self-defense class at sixteen
where I’d learn to kick a guy in the balls, but had no real belief
that I could do it under stress, and most of the class had
consisted of role-playing games anyway, which Elisa and I had
hated. Hard to imagine a role-playing game that could have
effectively taught me how to respond to a man who claimed to be a
thirteenth century Prince of Wales
.
Then again, contrary to
all expectations, I hadn’t needed even the tiny bit of knowledge
that class had taught. Llywelyn had lain beside me in bed all night
and not touched me.

It wasn’t as if I thought I was irresistibly
gorgeous, but I had enough experience with men to know that few
individuals of the male persuasion wouldn’t have at least
tried.
I’d turned guys away a time or two before Trev had
tried and succeeded. Yet, Llywelyn hadn’t and was offended at the
very thought. At the same time, the possessiveness in his voice
when he talked to his brother was unmistakable. “She’s mine,” he’d
said
.
What exactly did that mean?

I rolled off the bed and stood, ready to get
moving and face whatever reality Llywelyn had constructed. I walked
to where Anna lay and crouched beside her bed, just to check on
her. As always, my heart swelled when I looked at her, so
glad
that I had her. As Mom had said, she was the one good
thing we’d gotten out of this mess.

Anna opened her eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said.

“Hi, Mommy. Are you okay now? You slept a
long time!” She lifted a hand and touched the wooden side of the
trundle bed. She looked at it for a second before sitting up
quickly, twisting her body around in a jerky motion to survey the
room.

“It’s okay, Anna,” I said. I picked her up.
She still swiveled her head to take in her surroundings.

“Is Gramma here?”

“I would like to think that she’s on her
way,” I said. “We had an accident in the car. Do you remember?”

Anna gazed at me, her eyes solemn. “There
was a man. He unbuckled my car seat.”

“I imagine he did,” I said. “Did he carry
you here?”

She nodded.

“Was he nice?”

She nodded.

“Could you understand him when he talked to
you?”

Anna shook her head. “There were two men.
And a horse. And then there were more men and one of them had a big
stick with fire on the end. We’re in a
castle
.”

Well now.
Just then, someone knocked
at the door and I swung around. “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal a girl a few years
younger than I, dressed in brown. She was slender and short, but
the most noticeable thing about her were two large buck teeth.

“Madam,” the girl said, curtseying. “Are you
ready for me to help you dress?” She spoke slowly in Welsh and I
aligned each of her words with their modern equivalent, finding
that I understood the gist of what she said.

“Yes, please.” I’d made the mistake of
sending her away earlier after she delivered breakfast so I could
have some privacy to think—a mistake because it only took twenty
seconds of contorting myself to realize I wasn’t able to tie my
dress up the back. I’d opened the door to call her back, but she’d
gone and I’d had to ask the guard to find her for me. Now here she
was, giggling in the hall with the man, certain that I was an
idiot.