Page 2 of A Lover for Lady Jane (The Welsh Rebels #5)

Chapter One

“ Y dych chi’n siarad Cymraeg ?”

Do you speak Welsh?

Oh yes, she did speak Welsh, just as well as she spoke English, in fact.

But Jane was not about to admit as much, not to a man who had hit her and also, by the looks of things, abducted her.

She had just woken up alone, with a splitting headache, in an unknown room decorated with the finest tapestries.

There was no prize for guessing what had happened to her.

She had been taken to one of the local lords’ castle.

But why? It made no sense. If the men had been after a noblewoman’s money, then they could have robbed her while she lay unconscious.

If they’d been intent on raping her, then they could have done it on the forest floor.

There had been no need to take her to a comfortable room.

If they’d wanted to kill her, they could have sliced her throat, run her through with their blades or strangled her instead of merely hitting her.

Doing her best not to betray her fear, Jane stood up from the bench they had placed her on and stared at the bearded man towering over her, the one who had hit her earlier.

Geraint, she had heard the others call him while they waited for her to acknowledge their presence.

A Welsh name, which explained why he had asked his question in Welsh.

This only added to her puzzlement. What were Welsh men doing here?

“I am Lady Jane Hunter,” she said, pointing at herself. They would assume from this answer she thought they’d asked for her name. “Lord Sheridan’s daughter and Matthew Hunter’s niece.”

If ever there was a time to make herself sound like someone of importance, this was it.

They might let her go when they understood who their captive was.

Though he now mainly resided in Wales, her father was well known round these parts and renowned for being fiercely protective of his family.

Her uncle was the administrator of the domain and respected for his fairness.

The man, however, didn’t seem impressed by her answer. Or perhaps he knew so little English that he hadn’t realized she had just given her name. It was possible. He didn’t seem able to utter a single word in her language.

“Leave it,” grumbled the man by Geraint’s side, a giant with a thick mane of brown hair. “She thinks you asked her name. Of course, she’s English, what did you expect? Why would the high and mighty lady bestir herself to learn a barbaric language?”

Why? Because she’d spent the best part of her life in Wales and, save from her father and her uncle Matthew, all the people she loved were either Welsh or half-Welsh.

She hadn’t bestirred herself to learn Welsh, she had embraced it.

But it seemed to her that it would work to her advantage to pretend she could not understand what they were saying.

That way they might let slip some vital pieces of information about who they were and what they wanted.

Besides, she was in no mood to make their life easier.

She stared at them blankly.

“Go get Griffin,” the giant instructed the blond man by the door before turning back to Geraint, his irritation barely concealed. “I told you we would need him. Why isn’t he here already?”

“I sent him to deal with the lady’s mare. I didn’t expect her to come to so quickly, if you must know. No matter, just make sure you bring him to me as soon as Tomos finds him. I’ll take our guest to the blue chamber. She can wait for us there”

Guest.

Jane remained impassive but the choice of word had taken her by surprise.

Was this just a misunderstanding then? She didn’t dare hope it was.

No one struck their guests to force them into their home, did they?

Abducting her meant they intended to ransom her at the very least. Her father was not at Sheridan Manor at the moment but there was no cause to worry.

When the message reached him, her uncle would do whatever was required to ensure her safety, pay whatever sum was demanded.

In no time at all, she would be free.

She placed a tentative finger over the place on her temple where she’d been struck and found it tender and swollen.

No doubt she would sport a bruise for days.

Geraint, as could have been predicted, didn’t appear concerned by the fact.

He gestured that she should follow him. No need of an interpreter to understand what was required of her this time, or that she had better obey without delay.

Two of the men—she’d counted six in total, including the one who had gone back outside in search of the man who spoke English—had placed themselves behind her, blocking her retreat.

No, she was most definitely not a guest, but a captive.

She followed the man up the spiral staircase.

Jane stared at the closed door. How long it would be before the men were back with this Griffin who would act as translator? Not long, probably. A plan had started to form in her mind when Geraint had left her on her own, but she had to act quick if she had any chance of it working.

There was no guarantee it would, but it was worth a try.

In any case, she had nothing to lose. Keeping an eye on the door, praying the men did not choose this moment to come back, she unhooked her cloak and started to remove her dress, then finally her shift.

Shivering in the room where no fire had been lit, she wrapped the delicate garment around her waist, then stuffed the overhanging material inside the makeshift belt she had created.

Once she was satisfied the padding sat in the right place, low over her stomach, she donned her gown again, making sure to smooth the creases over the bulge.

It was done, and not a moment too soon. As she was putting the finishing touches to the arrangement, she heard footsteps in the staircase.

Three or four men, at the very least, coming up.

Leaving her cloak on the bed, Jane took her place by the window.

A moment later the chain was removed and the door opened.

Heart thumping hard in her chest, she waited.

Finally, she would know why she had been abducted.

“There she is. Ask her when that bastard Sheridan will be back.”

Jane winced inwardly. Clearly she had underestimated the difficulty of pretending she didn’t understand what was being said.

If they were going to call her father a bastard in her presence, she would find it extremely hard to remain impassive.

But she had to try, as reacting would alert them to the fact that she understood Welsh perfectly well.

“My lady, when do you expect your father to be back at Sheridan Castle?”

The interpreter’s voice was soft and deep, his English unaccented.

In short it was nothing like the aggressive, barely understandable bark she had expected to hear.

And there had been proper respect in his voice when he had called her “my lady.” But her relief was quickly forgotten as the implication of his words hit her.

Had she heard that right? She had only told the men who she was a moment ago.

And yet they knew her father, Connor, was away.

So… Had they kept themselves abreast of what was going on at Sheridan Manor?

Had they targeted her because she was Lord Sheridan’s daughter, not just a hapless woman or a rich lady perfect for ransoming? Had they known who she was all along?

“I know not when he will return,” she answered, keeping her back to the men.

“He spends most of his time in Wales, now that he’s married to a Welsh woman.

” If the men didn’t know that, they could not be very familiar with the family’s habits.

She hoped it was the case, as it would make it easier for them to believe the lie she was about to utter.

“He said he would be back before the birth, but that is still some months away.”

Griffin dutifully relayed her words to Geraint, who barked his reply. “What birth? What the hell is she talking about now?”

Jane forced herself not to move. This was going to be very difficult indeed.

How long before she forgot she wasn’t supposed to understand what the man was saying and answered the questions directly?

Only when Griffin translated the question did she turn around, one hand resting on her belly, now made bigger by the shift hidden under her dress.

“The birth of my child.”

Three men stared at her in shock. She stared right back because between Geraint and the giant she had seen earlier was the man she assumed to be Griffin. And he was…

She could not find the words to describe him, or the feelings the sight of him provoked inside her.

Saying that he was tall, had long blond hair, blue eyes and a manly jaw, while true, seemed woefully inadequate.

Saying that she had been struck dumb at the sight of him would be understating what had happened within her. The man had taken her breath away.

With a measure of shock, she realized that he reminded her of Christopher, Sian’s husband.

How could that be? She would never have thought anyone resembling the man she had despised for so long would appeal to her.

But appeal he certainly did. They stared at one another a long moment, then the spell was broken.

“The birth of your child?” Geraint erupted in Welsh.

“The birth of your child?” Griffin repeated in English.

Where there had only been loathing in the other man’s question, his voice was colored by concern. This was interesting. If he thought her condition meant she should be treated with care, or even released, then she might be able to use him to gain her freedom.