Sharon Schulze - L'eau Clair Chronicles 03 (29 page)

She only hoped that once they arrived, she’d be capable of movement. Although, if she was desperate enough, Swen could always carry her in.

What an entrance that would be!

Lily found a certain irony in the fact that today she was permitted to ride straight through the gates. But, like the last time she’d come to Dolwyddelan, she was taken into custody immediately.

She hoped her guard would be stupid enough to put her in the same room she’d occupied so briefly. Not that she wished to leave the keep at the moment, having come here of her own free will, but who could say when she might need an escape route? Unfortunately, they brought her to a chamber near the prince’s. There was a constant parade of people in and out of Llywelyn’s meeting room, as well as a bevy of others lounging about in the corridor outside.

She scarcely had a chance to change into the garments Gillian had sent with her–clothing much finer than anything she’d ever worn—before a servant came to take her to meet with Llywelyn.

Her reception—and accommodations—certainly were very different from her previous stay here. But those things didn’t matter.

Saving Ian did.

Swen stood outside her door with a guard of his own.

For once, his smile was nowhere in sight.

“The Dragon will skin me alive when he sees you here,” he said, low-voiced, glaring at a pair of men trying to listen to their conversation.

“He didn’t even want me to come here, or be associated with him in any way. What will he think when he discovers you’re here?”

“He’ll think that you’re a fool where women are concerned,” she whispered.

“There are worse things.”

“Do you think I should have stayed outside the castle walls?” he asked.

She poked him in the ann.

“Aye. But I told you that before you so stupidly rode in here anyway, if you recall.

Don’t blame me if you’re sorry now.”

Despite her harsh words, Lily was concerned about Swell. She’d grown fond of the brawny Viking, and she wished him no harm. However, she very much feared that his fate would not be any better than Ian’ s, simply because of his involvement with her.

A servant motioned them forward and held the door for them. Swen went in first, with Lily fight behind him.

Then, side by side, they stood before Llywelyn.

The prince sat in state in a huge chair at one end of the room, surrounded by people—men, mostly. The babble of voices died down to a whisper as all eyes focused on them.

Llywelyn motioned them forward. Lily took a deep breath and forced steel into her backbone. She’d gain nothing if she behaved like a pulling weakling.

She was the Dragon’s mate. She’d prove to these men that she was worthy of that honor.

Head held high, taking her time, as though she, and not Llywelyn, controlled this meeting, Lily glided across the room. Upon reaching the prince, she sank into a deep curtsy.

“Cousin,” she said clearly, inclining her head in a regal gesture she’d copied from the abbess.

“I thank you for allowing me to join you.”

“Milady,” Llywelyn murmured, with a nod of his own.

“Please, be seated here, near me.” He gestured toward a bench along the wall.

She took the place he indicated and settled to watch and wait.

Swen made a bow to Llywelyn, as well, receiving only an absentminded nod in acknowledgment. His wide shoulders dipping into a shrug, he came to stand near her.

Another murmur of voices forced her attention to the door. Ian and Rannuff stood there, scanning the room.

Lily knew the instant her husband saw her. His face, already set in harsh lines, seemed to tighten into an expressionless mask.

And the look in his eyes would have frightened her, had she not been so frightened for him.

Fitz Clifford Llywelyn Called, “Welcome to Dolwyddelan.

Come and tell me why you’re here.”

Rannulf and Ian went to stand directly before the prince. Llywelyn did not acknowledge Ian in any way.

Ranntdf bowed.

“I have come to you, Llywelyn, on behalf of my brother-by-marriage, Lord Ian ap Dafydd of Gwal Draig.”

“That honor is his no longer,” Llywelyn snarled. He rose from his chair.

“And what do you mean, brother-by-marriage?

You wed his cousin, not his sister.”

“Aye, sir, that is true.” Rannulf came to Lily and, taking her hand, helped her to rise from her seat.

“But he is wed to my wife’s sister.” He presented her to Llywelyn with a flourish.

“Lady Lily de l’Eau Clair.”

A loud hum of conversation rose from the crowd around them, and Lily felt herself to be under scrutiny from a hundred pairs of eyes. Although she knew that was an exaggeration, she didn’t like the sensation.

And evidently Llywelyn didn’t care to have all these people know his business.

“Clear this hall!” he cried, then remained silent until all the hangers-on had left.

“You have wed the Dragon, madame?”

“Aye, milord.” She turned to the side, just far enough to see Ian’s face.

“We are most assuredly husband and wife.”

Llywelyn’s eyes narrowed.

“Is it not tree, Dragon, that you married this woman simply to spite me, to destroy my plans for her?”

“No, milord, that is not true. I wed her because she is courageous and beautiful, with a kind heart.” Ian met her gaze, and she smiled at the emotion darkening his eyes.

“I married her because I love her. If that upsets your plans, milord, then be damned to you.”

“Your tone is not what I would expect from a man who has been branded outlaw and traitor.”

“Outlaw I may be, but I am no traitor!” A flush suffused Ian’s face, and his voice shook.

“I will kill any man who calls me thus.”

Llywelyn could have chosen no worse term to label Ian;

despite all that had happened of late, his loyalty to Wales was above reproach.

Llywelyn laughed, startling them all.

“I have no doubt but that you’ve killed him already, the jealous bastard.

Sion was the first to go after you once I declared you outlaw.”

“Aye, he’s dead, and many others with him,” Ian said.

“Do you have so many men to spare, that you send them to their deaths to punish one man? It makes no sense, milord. You need them for Wales, not for vengeance.”

Rannulf stepped into the conversation.

“We have come here, sir, to make you a proposition. In return for Ian’s help in the negotiations currently under way in London, he will regain everything you have declared forfeit. In addition, you will swear you have no further plans for Lily.”

Llywelyn stared at Lily for a long while.

“Do you realize what you set in motion, girl, because you refused to stay where you belonged? You have been nothing but trouble from the moment you arrived here.”

“Then you should have no objections to transferring possession of me to Ian, if he still wants me. And I am willing to stay here, or at another keep of your choosing, as surety for Ian’s return.”

“Lily,” Ian growled. His gaze promised retribution.

She could hardly wait.

But she returned her attention to Llywelyn.

“If I agree to this, what benefit do I gain?” he asked—needlessly, Lily thought. If the prince didn’t know that, he didn’t deserve to rule.

Ian stared him straight in the eyes.

“You gain my goodwill and loyalty, milord, despite my opinion of your actions with regard to my wife. And you retain my ability as the enforcer of your justice.” His grin would have done Swen proud.

“Instead of as your enemy.”

“And you’re willing to travel to London to represent our interests in the matter of this charter?” Llywelyn asked.

Ian nodded.

“Then sit yourself down, Dragon. I’ve important work for you.”

The door to her chamber slammed shut behind them. Ian looked as stone-faced as he had when facing down Llywelyn, which did not bode well for the brief time they had left together.

Once Llywelyn decided something, he wasted no time in implementing his plans. The man was a born schemer—and meddler. Lily could only be glad she shouldn’t need to deal with him often.

But now she should start behaving as a wife ought to.

It wasn’t too late to begin. She rose and poured a mug of mead from the pitcher on the table.

“Please sit.” She indicated a bench.

“When did you last eat?” she asked, handing him the cup.

“This morning Sometime—I don’t recall exactly when.” He drank the mead in one long swallow, then held out the mug for more. ““Twas a long and dusty ride.”

Lily refilled his mug, then opened the door and asked that food be brought. She was surprised when the servant left to fulfill her request. She returned to Ian, not wanting to waste a moment of their time together.

She felt nervous, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“I never planned on telling you as I did. I thought we’d be abed, or perhaps taking a bath,” Ian said lightly.

Lily looked up swiftly at his teasing tone. The veil of weariness had lifted from his eyes, leaving them a beautiful dark green. A wry smile lifting one corner of his mouth, his expression taunted her, challenged her, dared her to come closer.

When he held out his hand, she couldn’t resist.

No sooner had Lily stepped nearer than Ian stood and swept her into his arms. Lifting her until her feet left the floor and her eyes were level with his, he took her mouth in a demanding kiss.

By the time his lips abandoned hers, both of them were short of breath.

“I’ve hungered for you since I left you,” Ian whispered. ““Twas torture to leave you as I did, but it was the only way I could leave you at all.” He slowly slid her down his body, nudging her gently with the proof of his desire before her feet touched the floor.

“But it seems I’ll be satisfying a different hunger for the moment,” he said as a knock sounded at the door.

He nodded to the manservant who placed a tray of food on the table.

His attention on them instead of his task, the man bumped the pitcher of mead and set it wobbling. Lily didn’t care for the smirk on his face.

Evidently Ian didn’t, either.

“You’d do well to attend to your duties,” he snarled. He grabbed the pitcher before it could topple over.

“And you’ll show respect to the lady, else you’ll be dredging out the garderobe pits.”

The color draining from his face, the servant bowed low.

“Aye, milord. Beg pardon, milady.” Snatching up the tray, he hurried back to the kitchen.

“Insolent knave,” Ian growled, pulling the bench up to the table. He met her gaze before he sat down.

“I apologize for his discourtesy. God knows, they know little of manners here, but it will not happen again, I promise you.”

She knew she could count on that. It surprised her to think that any servant would risk angering the Dragon.

She sliced cheese and meat, placing them on a trencher of dark brown bread.

“This fare is better than what I ate the last time I was here,” she said, placing the food before Ian and pouring more mead.

She saved her questions for later.

He continued to tease her throughout the meal, until she was ready to strangle him. This was an Ian she did not know, although she found this side of him appealing.

“Calm yourself,” he said, smiling.

“I vow I’ve never met a woman as easy to provoke as you.” The look Lily sent him would have brought most men to their knees to beg for mercy.

But not Ian.

“Messengers will go out to Ashby, Gwal Draig and l’Eau Clair at first light.” He picked up her hand from her lap and began toying with her fingers.

“I

wish you hadn’t come here, love. I’d have felt much better about this if I knew you were with Gillian or Catrin.”

“I’ll be safe here,” she assured him. She felt that was true.

“But I worry about you, journeying so far from home.”

“We’ll go well guarded. And now that I’m no longer an outlaw, I should be safe enough.

“Tis not like the last time.”

What she’d intended to say flew out of her brain when Ian stroked his fingertip along the sensitive flesh of her wrist,-sending a shiver of reaction down her spine. An intimate, knowing smile and the warm glow in his eyes were his only response.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips one by one.

Lily hadn’t objected to Ian’s affectionate display; truthfully, she had no wish to stop him. He made her feel as if she were the focus of his attention, her opinions and her person valued and desired. It was easy to forget the realities of life, away from the rest of the world.

Her attention focused on Ian, Lily wasn’t aware anyone had entered the room until Ian spoke.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice hoarse. He clasped Lily’s hand when she would have pulled it away.

Lily lowered her gaze, refusing to look at the man.

Doubtless her desire for Ian was written on her face. And right now, her face felt as hot as her blood.

“Beg pardon, milord, but the master says ‘tis time to leave,” the servant mumbled, bowing slightly.

“I’ll be along directly,” he said, dismissing him. Not until the servant was nearly to the door did Ian stand.

“You have a powerful effect on me, love,” he said softly, casting a rueful glance at his body.

Lily’s flush deepened when she noted his swollen manhood.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not!” Catching her chin in his hand, he bent and brushed his lips across hers.

“I’m only sorry we weren’t alone.” Reaching down, he grasped her about the waist and lifted her from the bench.

“This will have to last us.” Clasping her tightly to his still-aroused body, Ian ravished her mouth with his. When he’d reduced her to mindless confusion, he set her back on the bench.

“I love you, Lily. Don’t ever forget that.” He trailed his fingers over her cheek, then was gone.

Ian and Rannulf left Dolwyddelan the same day they arrived, heading for Ashby to meet Nicholas. They took Rannulf’s troop with them; all three of them were exception ai fighters, but there were bandits and criminals everywhere.