Page 21 of A Lover for Lady Jane (The Welsh Rebels #5)

“I thank you but I’m not worried. As long as she has some food to spare and a place for us to lie down, she can predict my future to her heart’s content. Actually, I would be grateful to know what it holds, for I have absolutely no idea.”

No idea. Which meant two things. First of all, now that he had left his village following his lover’s desertion, he had no intention of returning there.

And secondly, he did not see Lord Sheridan’s daughter playing a part in his life.

“What are you doing here, my lady? I understood from your sister that you had elected to stay behind for the birth of Branwen’s babe?”

“I had.”

Griffin kept silent while Jane explained that she had changed her mind when she’d realized that she missed her family too much.

Interesting. Didn’t she trust this Myfanwy with the real reason for her presence here?

Or was she loath to place the old woman in danger by revealing too much in case Geraint and his men came sniffing around?

Knowing her for the caring, generous woman she was, he favored the second explanation.

“Very well, you decided to come back to Wales. I can’t say I blame you. But where is your horse?” The woman craned her neck to look behind Eryr. “Surely you two didn’t set off from England on one mount?”

This was a valid question. No one, especially a good rider, would undertake such a lengthy journey on one horse, strong as he may be. But instead of looking caught out, Jane once again demonstrated her resourcefulness by delivering her improvised answer in a natural tone.

“No, of course not. Only, Bluebell cast a shoe earlier this afternoon and I refuse to ride her until she has been reshod. We had hoped to reach Castell Esgyrn shortly after nightfall but it is now out of the question. The farrier we found has gone to the next village, so we had to leave the mare with his wife until he came back. But as, by an extraordinary stroke of luck, we were just a few miles from here, I decided to call on your hospitality.” Jane took the old woman’s hand and gave it a squeeze, as at ease with her as if she had really been her grandmother.

“Do you think we could spend the night here?”

“You know you’re always welcome here, my lady. That is not in question. You can have the room I keep for such eventualities.”

Griffin blinked. The woman kept a room to welcome weary or lost travelers? But surely she didn’t expect them to sleep in it together? This would test his resolve not to touch Jane again to the limit.

Before he could utter a word, the woman spoke again, not looking at him but addressing herself to Jane. “Your escort—Rhys, did you say his name was?—can bed in the barn with my cow.”

He had no idea if he should be more relieved that he would not have to sleep next to Jane, appalled at the thought of spending the night away from her, or shocked that the woman had called him Rhys, when Jane had not yet introduced him.

Rhys had been the name she had given Enid to hide his real identity.

Could it be a coincidence? Somehow he didn’t think so.

He’d been warned that the woman was gifted with the sight.

He’d doubted it at first, but he was starting to wonder.

“Thank you.” Jane’s gaze fluttered toward him. It was clear she shared his bewilderment at hearing him being called Rhys—and possibly his dismay at the idea that they would sleep apart. Still, it was for the best.

“Now, my lady, if it’s not too much trouble, would you go get some water from the well?

I was about to put the pottage on the fire.

My neighbor gave me a piece of salted pork to thank me for the advice I gave him regarding his meddlesome mother-in-law.

We can all enjoy it together with what is left of yesterday’s cabbage. ”

“I’ll go to the well,” Griffin offered immediately. What was the woman thinking, asking a lady to go draw water when he was idly standing here?

“No. You, young man, will stay exactly where you are. I need a word with you.”

Before he could protest Jane disappeared though the door and Griffin was left alone with the old woman.

There was an odd look in her eyes, as if she were seeing beyond where he was, to another, intangible realm.

He saw immediately that Jane had been right to warn him.

She was about to tell him something unsettling.

“You’re a troubled soul, are you not, my boy?”

It was hard not to scoff. After all he’d gone through in the last few weeks, he would not be surprised if the strain of it showed on his face.

He’d just spent a week worrying about Jane’s safety, he was running for his life, and he was racked with guilt over what had happened the day before.

As if that were not enough, he’d recently had a child stolen from him by his cheating lover.

No need to have the sight to see he had a lot on his mind.

“Isn’t everyone troubled, in one way or another? Didn’t you just say your neighbor asked your advice?”

The provocation didn’t hit home. Myfanwy carried on as if he had not said anything. “Fret not. What you think to have lost never was.”

This time Griffin stared at the old woman in bewilderment. He had indeed lost something recently, or rather, a person. But how on earth could she know about the babe Ffion had taken from him? “What do you?—”

Once again, she ignored him. “And beware of the foxglove lurking in the undergrowth. True, ’tis useful for some heart complaints, which is why I suspect you turned to it, but it can quickly become toxic.

Much better to aim high, even if it seems unattainable, than to gather the first plant you see at your feet.

Eagles soar high, do they not? Why did you name your mount Eryr if you did not agree? ”

Griffin had been bewildered at first, but he was now starting to feel uncomfortable.

Jane had told him about the woman’s unusual abilities, but this went beyond all he had imagined.

All he knew was that he had better take whatever the woman was saying seriously.

The mention of the foxglove, which was the meaning of Ffion’s name, the suggestion that he should aim for unattainable “plants,” the reference to his stallion’s name…

It was as if she knew what was in his past—and in his heart.

Just then Jane came back with a bucket full of water.

Old Myfanwy started to prepare the pottage as tranquilly as if she had not turned his brain upside down.

While the women chopped onions, he volunteered to go get a couple of heavy logs in the woods.

By the time they sat down to eat he was able to behave normally.

During the meal, he betrayed none of his inner turmoil.

And when the time came to go to bed, he left for the barn without a word.