Page 32 of A Lover for Lady Jane (The Welsh Rebels #5)

“I hope so,” she murmured. “All the more so that Sian has explained that his taunts stemmed from his unhappiness. He was jealous of the love and attention I received from my father. He grew up in a crumbling castle, you see, ignored and unloved by his dour old grandfather, whereas I?—”

To Griffin’s dismay, she burst into tears before she could finish her sentence.

Ignoring the voice in his head urging him to stay away, he took her in his arms. There was no way he could stand here while Jane cried and berated herself for her inability to get past the pain the young Christopher had inflicted on her all those years ago.

“Hush,” he soothed, one hand draping over her nape.

It felt so delicate under her silky soft hair that he almost groaned.

What was he doing? This was precisely why he could not afford to get into such close proximity to her, because it put unholy thoughts in his head and unwelcome feelings in his heart.

“There is no shame in having had a happy childhood.”

“No, I know,” Jane sobbed against his chest. “But it makes it impossible for me to imagine ending my life on my own, without anyone to love me.”

Without you .

The two words didn’t pass her lips but he heard them all the same.

His insides twisted and he just held her until the tears dried out because there was nothing he could say.

He could not imagine his life without her either, but the difference was, he could not see a way to make a union between them work.

Eventually she calmed down and stepped away from him.

Her eyes were red rimmed, her lips swollen and wet with tears, her cheeks blotchy.

She had never looked more precious to him.

“Come. Let us join the others,” he said, gesturing toward the square where they had left the horses. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t resist the temptation of a kiss if they stayed alone much longer.

Jane stared at him a long moment, then eventually nodded.

The retinue reached Throckmorton Castle on the evening of the eighth day, after an uneventful journey.

Gwenllian, Bethan, the two grooms and the four men at arms, having nothing to fear from Cynan and his friends, had gone ahead to Sheridan Manor.

As they entered the bailey shortly before dusk, Griffin looked around in amazement.

The place was not just bleak because of the eerie light; it was falling to pieces.

Half the merlons on the battlements had crumbled to dust, the door of the barbican was missing, and grass had started to grow at the foot of the keep.

No wonder Christopher was in no hurry to come live here.

Who in their right mind would swap such a gloomy castle for the warm, cozy cottage he shared with his wife?

What was the point of being a mighty lord if it got you such an uncomfortable life?

Perhaps being humbly born was not such a bad thing, he mused, taking in his gloomy surroundings.

He could choose where he lived, he wasn’t burdened by responsibilities and no one wanted him dead because of the power he wielded.

Yes, perhaps he was better off than men like Lord Sheridan and the new Lord Ashton.

The only problem was that his origins placed him well below the notice of the woman he wanted.

Or, at least, it should do, because it was clear Jane was determined to behave as if the two of them could have a future together.

Before leaving, she had told her sister she was in love with him.

It was such a ridiculous thing for someone like her to say that he had hoped she would come back to her senses and understand that, in the relief of being reunited with her family, she had mistaken the gratitude she felt toward him for something else.

So far it hadn’t happened, and he was starting to doubt it would.

“This way.” A tall, lean man led them to the solar where a woman Griffin assumed was Lady Ashton—or rather, the late Lord Ashton’s widow—was waiting for them.

A rider had been sent in advance to warn her of the arrival of the retinue and what looked like a veritable feast had been laid on the trestle table, a welcome sight after a long day on the road.

That was one of the significant advantages of being a noble.

You never had to wonder where your next meal would come from.

“Lord Ashton, you are very welcome,” the blonde woman told Christopher, before bowing to him in turn. “My lord, please have a seat. You must be weary.”

Griffin cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Thank you, but I am not a lord.”

“Oh, forgive me, I thought…”

Christopher brushed over the moment in his typical flippant manner. “Griffin is a dear friend of Sian’s sister. He kindly agreed to travel with us. The more capable men the better when it comes to my wife and sister-in-law’s safety, as I’m sure you’ll agree.”

Well, Griffin mused, that was not exactly a lie, but he’d conveniently forgotten to mention who his parents were.

“Of course.” The relief in the woman’s voice was obvious. Her mistake was forgotten. “Come, let’s eat.”

The fare they were offered was just like the castle itself was, abundant but sorely lacking in refinement and even taste.

Of course, it was still markedly better than what he was used to, but Griffin could not help but note the difference with Castell Esgyrn.

The food there had been exquisite, rich in flavors he had never tasted in his life and cooked to perfection.

Later that night, he found himself alone with Christopher. Lady Ashton had excused herself as soon as was decent, and the two sisters, tired by the journey and eager to sleep in a comfortable bed for the first time in a week, had retired not long after.

Alone in the great hall with Christopher, Griffin poured two cups of ale and mentally prepared himself. There would never be a better opportunity to ask what had been bothering him for days, ever since his discussion with Jane outside the blacksmith’s forge that day in town.

“I heard you tormented Jane when she was young.” He could not help to snarl the words. Though he liked the Englishman, who treated him like an equal, the idea of anyone causing her any discomfort enraged him. Jane had assured him it hadn’t been that bad, but he needed to know. “Is it true?”

“It is.” Christopher sounded cautious, somewhat wary, a most unusual attitude for him, who was brazenness personified. “Are you going to take me to task over it?”

“I should. I want to.” He clenched his jaw, because in that moment he did want to pummel him to the ground and the intensity of his feelings worried him.

After days spent trying to tell himself he could not return Jane’s feelings, he was forced to see his heart had not heeded his reason, and he didn’t like it. “What did you do to her?”

“ Do ? Nothing! God’s bones, what do you take me for?

” The outrage on Christopher’s face was enough to tell Griffin he had never raised a hand to her or even treated her half as badly as he had feared at first. “I mocked her for always being poised and happy, everything I was not. I called her Perfect Little Jane Hunter, which never failed to grate on her.”

The tension in Griffin’s body relaxed marginally. It was just like Jane had said, not Christopher’s proudest moment but it could have been worse.

“Well, she is perfect,” he said more calmly. “If you wanted to mock her, you should have chosen another name for her. Stating the obvious hardly proved your cleverness.”

Christopher stared at him, his cup of ale half-way to his lips. “Bloody hell, man, you’re smitten.”

Oh, he was not smitten. He’d been smitten that first day in the blue room, when he’d first seen her. After two weeks with her and their tryst in the hay, he’d catapulted straight past infatuated into a whole new realm of emotions.

“It’s much worse than that,” he mumbled. “I think I’m in love with her.”

There. He’d finally admitted out loud what he had struggled with for days.

Perhaps the darkness helped. Perhaps he simply needed to let his secret out for fear it would suffocate him.

Though he had the impression he had just loosed an arrow that would rip damage through everything he knew, Christopher didn’t seem perturbed by the revelation.

“How is that worse?” For once there was no mockery in his voice, only genuine bafflement.

“How? Well, just look at me!” Griffin gestured at himself angrily. “I’m wearing clothes that don’t belong to me. My only possession in this world is a horse that was given to me, while Jane is Lord Sheridan’s daughter, a man so far above me I should never even have met either of them.”

“But you did meet them. You did much more than that. Connor Hunter owes you his life and Jane gifted you with her favors.” An eyebrow arched above the blue eye. “Or have you already forgotten about all that?”

Forgotten! He let out snort. He would sooner forget his own name.

“What we did doesn’t change the fact that I have nothing and I am no one.”

“You are not no one in her eyes, it is all that counts.” Christopher sounded unusually serious.

He leaned in to rest his elbows on his knees, like a man about to impart great wisdom.

“Listen to me. Sian fell in love with me, arrogant, unbearable fool that I am, and made her mind up to have me when all her family was set against me. She forgave my mistakes and the hurt I caused her and her sister. She married me even though I had been stripped of everything I had.”

“What does that have to do with Jane and me?”

“Do the Hunter girls a favor and remember that they are not like the rest of the women you might have met before or will ever meet again. They see beyond what other people see and are not afraid to take what they want. Sian was the one who seduced me. I should have known then it would not be worth fighting what was inevitable.”

The man had a point. Jane was like no one else, certainly like no lady he imagined, and she had given herself freely to him.

“Be that as it may, I cannot?—”

“Don’t you dare even contemplate leaving her now and doing what kills you for ‘her own good.’ It will only end in disaster.

I once tried to do what I thought was best for Sian and ended up causing us both untold misery.

” Christopher gritted his teeth. “Believe me, you do not want to have to watch her being married off to another man.”

No, Griffin could only imagine the torture that would be. But what other option was there? He could not very well marry her himself!

“Do you think?—”

He stopped, not knowing what he wanted to say and stared at the dying fire. Darkness had started to engulf the room, and he was worried it would spread to his soul as well.

“You know,” Christopher started slowly. “Now that I am Lord Ashton in truth, I could make you a knight.”

The announcement fell between them like an axe blow on a log, splitting it in half.

Griffin stared at the Englishman in disbelief.

Him become a knight? On what grounds? He had not earned the honor by any extraordinary feat, he’d not helped the king win a victory in battle, saved a member of the royal family, foiled a treasonous plot or done anything remotely remarkable.

It would be ridiculous. Did he even want to become a knight?

Simply the fact that he was asking himself that question showed him he probably didn’t.

Only earlier that day he’d congratulated himself on being unburdened by responsibilities and free to live his own life.

Besides, accepting Christopher’s offer would solve nothing.

Being made a knight was all very well and good, but it wouldn’t give him a fortune or a place to live, and that was what he needed to be worthy of Jane.

As Sir Griffin, he still wouldn’t be able to give her the life she was entitled to.

He was prevented from saying as much when the door opened on the tall man he guessed had been the late Lord Ashton’s squire.

The stealthy way he slipped in told Griffin he had not expected anyone to be in the great hall at this hour and had not seen the two men sitting in the high-backed chairs by the hearth.

When the man removed both his tunic and undershirt in one fluid motion Christopher cleared his throat to signal their presence.

Evidently, he had no desire to see more of the man and Griffin could only agree.

“My lord!” The squire gave a strangled squeak and brought the discarded clothes up to cover his chest. “Apologies, I-I had no idea you were here with your friend.”

No. That much was clear. It would seem that the man had an assignation with someone and had not counted on the room being occupied by two strangers. Griffin felt sorry for having unwittingly disturbed his plans.

“I’m sorry, but we got to talking and forgot the time. Stephen, is it?”

“Y-yes, my l-lord.” The man was stammering hard, possibly due to his surprise at seeing that the new Lord Ashton knew his name—or the fact that he was standing half naked in front of him and his friend. “I will leave you now.”

The door closed with a creak. With a boyish chuckle, Christopher helped himself to another cup of ale.

“Poor bastard. I hope he can find whoever was supposed to join him and take her somewhere else. I would hate to have deprived her of the pleasure he wanted to give her.” He sounded highly amused, and not at all sorry. “I wonder who that might be?”