Page 24 of A Lover for Lady Jane (The Welsh Rebels #5)

Chapter Twelve

“ I t’s brilliant.”

Griffin gave Jane a slanted smile. It was a rather brilliant plan, even if the merit did not lie with him but with their friend Myfanwy.

Without her warning they might both have been captured by now.

But thanks to her, they had stopped in time to avoid being taken and they knew how to get to safety.

They would stop the next cart of workers and ask them to transport Jane to the castle, hidden under a cloth.

Even if the men thought the request odd, when they identified her as Lord Sheridan’s daughter, they would not refuse to help her, knowing they would in all probability be rewarded for what they’d done.

Griffin would walk beside them, his face hidden under a hood, as if he were one of them.

After having seen carts come and go for days, Geraint would not even take a second glance at the workers walking past.

It was a plan brilliant in its simplicity, but he knew he would never have thought of it without the old woman’s strange declaration. It really had been an inspired idea from Jane to stop in that village.

“Once this is over, I will have to go and thank her,” he mused out loud.

The halt had not only given them the solution to their problem, but had also allowed him to see Ffion, and put the demons of his past behind him.

“Yes,” Jane agreed with a smile. “Without her warning, I’m not sure I would have guessed Geraint was hiding in the woods, which is stupid really, because I should have known he would not give up so easily, especially when faced with retribution from Hywel, who, it is not hard to guess, will not be lenient. ”

No, he wouldn’t be. Geraint would dread presenting himself in front of the rebel without the captive he’d been charged to get.

He might very well pay with his life for the failure to bring Lord Sheridan to his enemy.

Griffin cared not what happened to Geraint or his men; he would not bemoan the loss of any of them.

But unfortunately, the stakes being so high made the man three times as determined—and therefore three time as dangerous.

He had to be stopped, as Griffin would die rather than see Jane fall into his hands.

Though, ultimately, she was not the one Hywel wanted and would be freed once they had Lord Sheridan in their possession, he still couldn’t let it happen.

Because then, she would have to live the rest of her life with the knowledge that her father had sacrificed himself for her and been not only killed as a result, but also tortured beforehand.

“Yes, I’m confident the plan will work. But there is one problem.

Eryr,” Jane said, nodding at the horse who was munching on some grass next to them.

“As you say, he is quite distinctive, and not the kind of mount workers would use to pull their cart. He would give us away, as Geraint will be expecting to see him. We will have to leave him somewhere safe.”

“Yes. But where?” They could not leave him tethered here for a whole day, at the mercy of passersby. He would not risk anything happening to his faithful companion.

Jane’s green eyes started to sparkle. Was she about to suggest they went all the way back to old Myfanwy’s village and entrust the horse into the woman’s care? Perhaps. He, at least, could not think of another option.

“How did I not think of it before?” she said, sounding full of renewed hope. “Sian and Christopher live just a bit farther along the stream. They will help, keep Eryr for us and tell us what’s been happening at Castell Esgyrn.”

Her sister. Of course, it was the perfect solution. He nodded and walked back to the stallion with decision.

“Let’s go.”

“Jane!”

“Sian!”

While the two sisters hugged and kissed with as much exuberance as if they had not set eyes on one another in years, Griffin stood next to a blond man who he guessed was Christopher Harrison.

The man looked at the scene, an indulgent smile floating on his lips.

Something tightened within Griffin, because he had started to notice that he often smiled for no reason whenever he looked at Jane.

Did he look as smitten as Sian’s husband appeared in this moment?

He dearly hoped not, for she would not fail to draw wrong conclusions from this, or at least, the conclusions he didn’t want her to draw.

She could not know he was developing feelings for her, had perhaps already fallen in love with her. It would have to be his secret.

“I’ve never seen two sisters share a closer bond, you know,” the Englishman said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And yet they are not related by blood, which I think is obvious when you look at them.”

Indeed the two women looked nothing like one another.

Sian was slender and almost a hand shorter than Jane, who had a much more voluptuous figure, her hair was neither the same color nor the same texture, her face was that of a lively pixie’s rather than that of a serene Madonna carving.

Their choice of dress, vibrant red for the Welsh lady, cool green for the English one, their gestures, ranging from wild and impetuous to calm and elegant, the way they laughed, the merry outburst of joy contrasting with the discreet silvery tinkle he was used to, nothing was in any way similar.

“Yes,” Griffin said pensively. “It is obvious they do not share blood.”

He and his sister were the spitting image of each other, or so everyone had kept telling them when they were growing up, and they definitely had the same parents, yet they could not have claimed to share any sort of bond, close or otherwise.

Growing up with her had been almost like growing up without a sibling.

It was clear that his childhood had been very different to Jane’s, in every way.

Would he constantly be reminded that they did not belong to the same world?

“It seems to be a common occurrence in the family,” Christopher carried on.

“You wouldn’t guess from seeing Connor and Matthew Hunter together that they are only milk brothers, even if they look very dissimilar physically as well.

But they think and act as one and would die for one another.

Such closeness makes you envious, really. ”

As Griffin had never met either man, much less seen them together, he could not offer any answer.

Besides, he didn’t feel it was his place to comment.

Christopher turned to him, the expression on his face hardening now that he was no longer looking at his wife.

Griffin was surprised to see that his right eye, which he had assumed to be blue, like the other one, was in fact brown.

The effect was rather unsettling, as was the way he was looking at him.

Not like an enemy would, exactly, but definitely with suspicion.

This was a man one would underestimate at one’s peril.

Underneath the polished, carefree exterior lay an indomitable warrior, that much was obvious.

“And who are you, if I may ask?” he asked, straightening his spine. “You’re not one of Sheridan Manor’s men at arms, are you? What are you doing here, then? Why are you the one escorting Lady Jane to Esgyrn Castle, alone? And why are you both riding on the same horse?”

Griffin had never been subjected to such an intense interrogation, and the man was only Jane’s brother-in-law. If this encounter made him feel so ill at ease, he dreaded to think what her father, a mighty lord, would do when he finally decided to talk to him.

“Well?”

The Englishman would not wait a moment longer for his answer but what could Griffin say?

It was not his place to tell anyone what had happened, and he didn’t want to worry Sian unduly.

Jane should be the one deciding what to reveal and what to keep silent.

Fortunately, at that moment, she came to his rescue.

He could not help a sigh of relief, because he’d had no idea how to convince her protective brother-in-law he was to be trusted without revealing the truth.

“Stop it, Christopher, you’re treating Griffin like a criminal when he’s done nothing to deserve it. We’ll explain everything in due time, but first, we would be grateful for something to drink and eat.”

“Of course,” Sian instantly agreed, leading the way to the cottage. “Forgive me, I should have thought. Come in.”

It was the first time Jane had been inside her sister’s new home.

The interior was as wild and colorful as she was, nothing like what she herself would choose but cozy and welcoming nonetheless.

Bundles of fragrant herbs hung from the wooden beams, cushions of all sizes and shapes were scattered over the low benches and a pewter vase full of greenery was taking pride of place on the solid table dominating the space.

While Christopher busied himself with pouring them a drink of ale, Sian uncovered a wooden plate with her characteristic flourish.

“Try this and tell me what you think. I’ve been trying to replicate Avice’s recipe for honey tarts since we arrived, and I think I’m getting there. At least Christopher seems to like them.”

She smiled at her husband, who threw her a look that could only have been described as smoldering. “I like everything you offer me to eat, my love.”

Christopher’s voice was so husky, the flame in his eyes so scandalous despite the innocent words, that Sian’s cheeks went as red as the dress she was wearing, and she handed herthe tart with her gaze averted.

Jane accepted it with equal embarrassment.

An image of Griffin’s head buried between her thighs while he devoured her had just flashed through her mind.