Page 22 of A Lover for Lady Jane (The Welsh Rebels #5)

Chapter Eleven

T he night had been a restless one. Griffin had barely slept.

A dozen times he had considered going to Jane.

Just to take her in his arms, he’d assured himself, and make sure she wasn’t cold alone in the room, nothing more.

Not to bare her breasts to his mouth and gaze, not to spread her thighs open and taste her intimate honey, not to plunge inside her wet heat and lose himself in a flurry of sensations.

He had sworn to himself he would never do any of that again.

Exhausted, he had finally fallen into a deep slumber—only to dream of being with her.

They were in a garden, surrounded by hundreds of flowers.

Jane took it upon herself to uproot all the foxgloves she could find and throw them in a big fire.

Once the plants had been reduced to cinders, he’d started to climb an apple tree with the intention of plucking the branch at the very top, its snowy white blooms as fragrant as honey.

When he’d finally deposited the branch at Jane’s feet like an offering, she’d thrown her head back and sent her joyous laughter to the sky.

No need to have the gift of sight to know what this particular dream meant…

Still perturbed, he made his way to the well in the predawn light.

Not many people were out and about at this hour, but the few he met didn’t even glance his way.

Evidently, perhaps because of old Myfanwy’s habit of welcoming stranded travelers, they were used to seeing new faces.

The shelter where Jane had been led last night was just a few yards away.

Was she awake already, or was she sleeping as soundly as she always slept, curled up on her side, her fist held tight in a ball?

His heart split in two at the beautiful image.

He was splashing his face with the bucketful of water he’d just drawn for his morning ablutions when a familiar voice hit him from behind.

“Griffin. What on earth are you doing here?”

Slowly, he straightened back up and turned around, readying himself for the confrontation.

Over the last few weeks Griffin had often wondered what he would tell Ffion if he ever found himself face to face with her, without ever coming to a satisfactory answer.

Now the moment had come, and thanks to Myfanwy, he knew exactly what to say.

Forgoing the usual greetings, he launched his attack.

“You were never with child, were you?”

She blanched at the blunt question and placed a hand over her stomach.

Her very noticeably flat stomach, when, if her claim to be with child was to be believed, she should be nearing her term.

Had she lied to him in good conscience, or had she made a mistake?

His direct stare told her she had better tell him the truth.

“No. I thought I… But in the end, I was mistaken. I was only late by a few days.”

Intense relief swept through him. Old Myfanwy had been right. What you think to have lost never was. What he had feared had never come to pass. He had not lost a child, there would not be a little boy or girl of his loins growing up without their real father.

Thank God.

Griffin bent down and splashed some more water on his face. The nightmare was over. He could breathe again.

“You know…making me with child didn’t work then.

” The ill-placed cheerfulness in Ffion’s voice made him turn to face her.

What was she up to? Certainly she seemed to have recovered quickly enough from the shock of seeing him and having to admit to the truth of what had happened in the summer.

She took a step toward him, eyes ablaze with what he could only identify as lust. “But it might now.”

The hand she’d used to stroke her stomach landed on his forearm.

Griffin blinked in disbelief. Was she really propositioning him, here, in the middle of the village, after what she had done to him?

Was she really thinking he would accept the insulting proposition and drag her into the woods to “make her with child”, in her own words?

“Thank you, but I would rather slice my balls off,” he said, his voice icy.

“Come. You didn’t seem so averse to having me in your arms before. The way you used me certainly indicated you found me to your taste.”

“That was before I realized what you were, Ffion.” A beautiful, poisonous flower, nothing less than a toxic plant.

Myfanwy was right. He’d been so desperate not to be alone that he’d put all his hopes on the wrong person.

How ironic. He’d considered building a life with a woman who did not want him and had then fallen for a lady who wanted him but was unattainable.

“You’ll regret this!” Ffion hissed, taking her hand away at last. Griffin took in a breath of relief.

Her palm had started to burn his skin through the material of his tunic.

“All your life you’ll think back to this moment and regret not taking the offer I made you.

You will end up all alone because you are an abomination that should not be allowed to exist, you spawn of the English devils!

Your father was a traitor to the Welsh, and no one will ever want to be with you because of it. ”

“Why did you sleep with me if I’m such an abomination?” he asked, doing his best not to let her words hurt him.

“Why do you think? So you could make me with child and give me the one thing Huw cannot give me. I have done nothing to deserve to die childless. I’m a woman like any other.

” She actually stomped her foot like a petulant little girl.

“It’s not fair. I should be allowed to have the man I want and a baby. ”

“Were you that desperate that you were ready to have a child tainted with my half-English seed then?”

Her sneer pierced all the way to his heart.

So much scorn! How had he not seen her for what she was before, a selfish, cruel, pathetic woman?

“No one would have known who the father of my child really was. Huw and I got married as soon as we arrived here in the village. Everyone would have accepted our word that the babe was his, since the two of you have similar coloring. He was the one who suggested I go to you if you must know, for this precise reason. All the other men of suitable age were noticeably darker and too ugly to consider. I was reluctant to share your bed at first, of course, considering your less than ideal ancestry but then…then I will admit I made my peace with it.”

Bile flooded Griffin’s throat when Ffion’s eyes lit up with lust. He’d been selected as a stud because of the way he looked, and she had allowed the farce to continue despite the contempt she held him in because she’d been happy with the way he’d serviced her.

Everything had been planned from the start, by the two scheming lovers. None of it had been real.

He didn’t know what to say. Toxic as a foxglove indeed.

“Is your precious Huw aware of everything we did together? Does he know that I gave you more pleasure than he did?”

She made a grimace, and he saw that he had hit a nerve. It afforded him little satisfaction, however. “Who’s to say you?—”

“Me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened.

Should I go to your husband, tell him what his wife let me do?

How she begged me to fuck her harder? How she trembled with the force of her releases every time I took her?

” He’d never spoken so crudely to anyone, but his rage needed an outlet.

“Do you think he would like to hear all we’ve done together?

Things that could never result in a babe?

You were certainly not thinking about getting with child when you took me in your mouth or begged me to take you in the?—”

“You would never dare speak to him and tell him about that!” Ffion looked panicked at the idea of her wantonness being exposed to her husband. “He would not believe you anyway.”

Griffin stared at her, not answering. Let her worry about what he would do, even if he knew he would not bother going to the man.

He simply wanted to forget about the whole sordid thing and resume his life free of pain.

Just when he was wondering how to put an end to the encounter with his dignity intact, a voice cut in through the tension, as welcome as spring rain over a desolate landscape.

“Griffin, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Jane appeared from behind him and snaked an arm around his waist, coming to stand right next to him.

His body instantly responded the way it always did at her contact.

His heart started to beat a fierce drum, his cock sprang to attention and his own arm wrapped around her shoulders.

It was a shocking liberty to take amidst people who knew her as Lord Sheridan’s daughter, but she didn’t even flinch, as if she’d expected, or even wanted, this mark of affection.

“Is this a friend of yours?” she asked, smiling at Ffion, who had gone the color of buttermilk. Mayhap she had recognized Lady Jane Hunter and she was amazed to see that the man she had just disparaged had managed to attract such a woman. “Are you inviting her to the wedding?”

What wedding? He blinked.

“The wedding?” The expression on Ffion’s face—disbelief and outrage combined—was such that Griffin instantly understood what Jane was trying to do.

The wonderful, resourceful, generous woman that she was had come to his rescue.

Having somehow overheard his conversation, she had decided to put the woman back into her place.

The arm around her tightened in a silent thank you.

Ffion would not leave this confrontation the victor.

She would see that he would not end up all alone, that someone wanted him, half-English and unsuitable as he was in her eyes.

And not just anyone. A stunningly beautiful woman, who had to be one of the most enviable parties around.

His chest swelled in gratitude.