Page 15 of A Savior for Branwen (The Welsh Rebels #2)

Chapter Fourteen

“ Y ou bitch!”

Branwen froze. The venom in the voice, the insult, barely registered. All she could think was that, unlike what she had allowed herself to believe, Bryn was not dead.

And now, here he was, alone in the rose garden with her, where no one could see them and therefore come to her rescue. The timing seemed too perfect to be true. Had he seen her and Matthew come here then waited, biding his time, until Matthew had been called away, to pounce on her? Had Connor even asked after his brother or had it all been a trick destined to draw him away? What was Bryn even doing here? The questions jostled in her mind but she could not make sense of his presence here. How had he even escaped from the dungeon where Matthew had ordered him to be sent?

She had heard footsteps approach earlier, but thinking it was Matthew coming back from seeing Connor, had not thought anything of it. What a mistake! Because now she was trapped.

Slowly, she turned to face her enemy. He looked gaunt, and the beard on his jaw made him appear more menacing than ever. His lips were curled up in a sinister parody of a smile, revealing his rotting teeth. Never had she seen a more terrifying sight. She could have screamed, in fact, she should have screamed, but her whole body felt encased in ice. She had thought him dead. Or at least, disposed of, unable to get to her again. She’d been wrong, so terribly wrong. He wasn’t dead, he’d come back to her, wanting retribution.

And Silver, the only protection she could have called upon, was nowhere to be seen. She was all alone with a monster, just like that day in the clearing. Her chest felt crushed, as if under a great weight, and there was not enough air in her lungs.

“You’ve become a fine woman, you know,” Bryn rasped, his eyes aglow with ill-contained lust.

Yes. Become . Because she had been little more than a child when he had preyed on her all those years ago. Anger flared up inside her, melting some of the ice, allowing her to breathe again. She held on to it with all her might. Being angry was much preferable to being scared. She shot up to her feet.

“What I have become is of no concern to you.”

Branwen made to walk past him, aiming toward the only opening in the wall. He blocked her path and she stopped, loath to touch him, even through the barrier of his clothes. She doubted she would have been strong enough to push him out of the way anyway.

She took a step backward.

“So, you now claim you never wanted me.” He arched a brow.

“’Tis no claim. I never wanted you and you knew it, but you chose to ignore my protests.” Matthew’s words came back to her, giving her the strength to speak out. Yes, the ice in her veins was melting fast. Soon she would be herself again, able to think, able to act. “A man knows when the woman in his arms doesn’t want to be there.”

The laugh that answered her was unlike any she had ever heard, chilling. Far from being chastened, the man seemed amused.

“But of course he does. It is quite obvious. That doesn’t mean he should deny himself the pleasure of possessing her, now, does it? It is in the natural order of things. Why do you think God created women weaker than men? It is only so that we can have what we need, whenever we need it, regardless of their ridiculous scruples.”

He’d known! All along, he’d known he was raping her, and yet he had chosen to ignore her refusal, derived even more satisfaction from it. All this time, she’d clung to the notion that he had somehow been mistaken, and genuinely thought she was welcoming his touch. How stupid could one get, when they didn’t want to accept the truth of something? Well, no more.

Fury broke through the last of her fear.

“You bastard!” Branwen exploded, too incensed to care if he caught her now. What could he do to her that he hadn’t already done? “You knew I was just a child! How many more poor girls have you raped?”

“What I do with my life is none of your concern.”

“I care not about your miserable life!” In fact, she now wished Matthew had killed him the other day. Why, oh why, had she stopped him? It was not only about her, because as she’d just said, she didn’t doubt he was a menace to all the young girls around.

Before she could escape, he seized her by the wrists, bringing her flush against his body. He smelled of sweat and blood and the dungeon where he’d spent the last two days. It took all her inner strength not to be sick.

“But I do care about my life and what is done to me. And I’ll make you pay for sending your English pup to me and allowing him to humiliate me the way he did,” he growled in her ear, his foul breath hitting her nostrils. She swallowed back bile to answer him with all the malice she was capable of.

“I didn’t send him to you. If you got hurt, you’ve only got yourself to blame. It was only a matter of time before someone stronger made you pay for your vile actions.”

“And you think your Englishman did?” Well, by the looks of it, he had. The various cuts and bruises on it made Bryn’s face even more frightening than usual. There was no telling what his body looked like underneath his blood-stained clothes. She had seen the knife in Matthew’s hand anyway. She knew he had hurt him. “I will repay him a thousandfold for what he did, never fear. I will not let him escape retribution. By the time I’m finished with him, he will wish he had stayed in his country. But first, I’ll deal with you.”

There was no prize for guessing what he meant. Except this time, he might well kill her after he’d taken his pleasure with her.

No.

The word exploded in her mind. Never again would he touch her. Suddenly she felt strong enough, determined enough, woman enough to refuse a man and send him to hell, if that was what was needed to protect herself and other innocent girls.

Bryn ab Owain had raped his last victim.

Certain of his victory, he didn’t seem aware of the change in her. He took a step backward and started fumbling at his braies. “Kneel. I’m going to start by ramming your foul words back in your throat with my?—”

Thwack .

Branwen had knelt at his command, but only to seize a piece of rock she had spotted while he was busy unlacing his braies, and she hit him on the side of the head with it, putting all her hatred, all her desperation behind the blow.

“No!” she screamed, while he toppled over with a grunt, stunned both by the force of the hit and, she imagined, the fact that she had dared stand up to him. “I will never kneel or lie down for you ever again, do you hear? Or anyone else. You cannot make me!”

She struck him again, not aiming anywhere in particular, just knowing she needed to prove to him and to herself that she would not be used again, needed to incapacitate him so he could not hurt her, needed to do whatever it took to stop him. He screamed and tried to get back up, so she hit him again and again and even kicked him straight in the groin, when she felt him crumple at last.

Once he’d stopped moving, she ran toward the opening in the wall—and collided with Matthew, who was coming the opposite way, with Connor fast on his heels.

“Branwen, dear God, what happened?” He steadied her with both hands at her shoulders. “Is it Bryn?”

How had he guessed? She nodded, barely able to push the words out of her trembling lips. “He … he appeared out of n-nowhere after you’d left. I?—”

“ What ?” Matthew roared, as he turned around to look at his brother. This was exactly what they had feared, why he and Connor had been rushing back toward the rose garden in the middle of their discussion. Because they’d feared Bryn’s next move.

The reason his brother had called him earlier was to inform him that they had found out the trap door to the dungeon stood open.

“Do you happen to know anything about that?” Connor had asked, suspicion etched all over his face.

Yes, unfortunately, Matthew immediately guessed what had happened. Bryn had escaped, aided by an unknown accomplice. He stared at his brother, knowing the time for the reckoning had finally come. He would have to justify his action, explain why he had taken it upon himself to imprison their neighbor, and he would gladly do it. But now was not the time.

If Bryn was on the loose, he needed to go.

“I will tell you all, I swear, but we have to go to the lists now. Branwen is on her own in the rose garden.”

“Branwen? What’s that to do with?—”

“Now! There’s not a moment to lose. I’ll tell you everything, but we need to go.”

A dreadful premonition had seized him. Bryn would have only one thing on his mind now that he was free. Get his revenge for the humiliation he had endured the other day. And he would deal with Branwen first, the most vulnerable of his two attackers.

He rushed back to the garden where he had left her alone and without protection. Silver was not even around, too busy chasing after his brothers and sisters. Why, oh why had he not insisted she wait for him in the great hall, in full view of everyone? The mistake had ended up costing him dearly, because just had he’d feared, Bryn had gone to find Branwen at the first opportunity. What had he done to her? As if he couldn’t guess. Didn’t he know what the man was capable of?

He yanked at a fistful of hair as despair flooded him. This was all his fault. He should have gone to her sooner, he should not have allowed Bryn to take another breath after he’d mocked her so cruelly, he should not have left her side for a moment, even to go to Connor … Whichever way you looked at it, it was all his fault.

He tightened his hold around her when she started trembling, then threw a pleading glance at his brother, who instantly stepped forward, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I’ll go see to Bryn.”

Relief spread through Matthew. He’d been hoping to hear that. The man needed to be disposed of, but he didn’t want to let go of Branwen, who was clinging to him desperately.

“He … I think he might be dead,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “He was not moving after I hit him, but I did not have the courage to look.”

She’d hit him? Brave, brave little raven. He placed a kiss on temple. “You did well. I’m so proud of you.”

“Worry not, I’ll deal with it, whatever the situation is,” Connor soothed. “You stay here with Matthew.”

Matthew knew he didn’t need to instruct him to make sure the man never rose again. Neighbor or not, there would be no second chances. While they’d rushed to the rose garden, he’d explained briefly why he was so bent on avenging Branwen, and why he had placed the man in the dungeon unbeknownst to everyone. Connor had agreed that the man needed to be punished, so he could rest easy. Before dawn, one way or the other, the vile man would be dead, and Branwen would be safe.

“Sweetheart, talk to me,” he urged her once they were alone. Her attitude was worrying him. Was she about to faint? “Did he touch you?” What she’d said seemed to suggest he hadn’t, but he needed to be certain.

“No. He said he would make you p-pay for hurting him, and that women were only good for seeing to men’s needs, and then he demanded that I—” She stopped abruptly and shivered again. Matthew had no idea how he managed not to howl, because he could guess all too easily what the man had wanted her to do. “So I hit him with a rock. Three, four, five times. I don’t remember.”

“As long as you did hit him.” His next kiss landed on her cheek. “You did what you needed to do, and saved yourself, like you saved me in the forest.”

“Yes. I saved myself.” That idea seemed to appease her somewhat. She finally stopped trembling.

“Now, let’s go to my room.”

She nodded in agreement but her legs faltered as soon as she tried to move. Without a word, Matthew swept her into his arms and took her over to the other side of the castle, where his bedchamber was. As he passed the door frame, he thought to how he had dreamed of doing that exact same thing many a night. Only, in his dreams, he brought her here because they were about to make love, not because she had just been attacked by a vile lecher and needed reassurance.

“Stay here, wait for me. Bar the door,” he told her quickly. “Open only for me, Connor, or Esyllt, no one else. I’ll go and see what’s happened with Bryn.” The man’s name was little more than a snarl.

I hope Connor made him suffer before finishing him off. Better yet, I hope he kept him alive long enough for me to me to cave his skull in and make him eat his entrails.

Branwen nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. She was doing her best not to let fear overwhelm her, and he couldn’t resist. He leaned in and kissed her. A tender, reassuring kiss at first, that quickly turned into something passionate, a plea for more, the beginnings of lovemaking. Her hands fastened in his hair, pulling him even closer. His body surged, and he pressed against her, in search of feminine heat, of soothing softness and delicious friction. She moaned her approval, the sound bringing him back to his senses.

What was he doing? Not now, he could not let his urges overtake him now!

Though he would have liked nothing more than to give in to his desire, make her forget anyone else had ever touched her, and tumble her onto the bed beckoning to them, he had to go see to Bryn first, make sure he was well and truly dead this time. He could not allow the threat he represented to Branwen and other women to continue.

Besides, he could not be as boorish as to take her to bed when she’d just suffered a fright. She needed the protector right now, not the lust-filled beast. He had to be strong.

With difficulty, he drew away.

“I’ll be back,” he said, placing his forehead against hers. “Wait here for me.”

“Yes. I too need to know what happened to?—”

She stopped before she could utter the hated name. Matthew bared his teeth. He already knew what would happen to the bastard. He would die, like he should have died the other day. This time there would be no hesitation.

“Of course you do. And so do I.” He placed his closed fist on his chest, right above the place where his heart was beating as he gave her his solemn oath. “He will never hurt you again, Raven. One way or the other, I will make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

As soon as he saw the form lying on the floor, hatred overcame Matthew, flooding his veins in one uncontrollable rush. Only one thought remained in his mind. Revenge. All honor forgotten, he rushed out to the Welshman and kicked him in the ribs. The dog deserved no better.

“You piece of shit! How do you like that? Do you want me to make you scream? Is that what you want? Is that what you like to hear?”

“Brother, stop. He’s dead,” Connor said, placing one hand over his shoulder. The words did not manage to penetrate the haze of fury clouding his mind. He kicked again.

“You are going to pay for what you did to?—”

“He’s dead,” Connor repeated gently. “It’s over. He will never harm your woman or anyone else again.”

Your woman .

The two words finally got through his rage and he froze, staring at the corpse at his feet. The man was indeed dead. Matthew didn’t even ask if Branwen’s blows had killed him or if Connor had finished him off. It mattered not. All that mattered was that he could not harm Branwen now.

He fell to his knees, feeling like a failure. “This is all my fault. I should have guarded her better, but I thought?—”

Connor shook his head. “It’s not your fault. How could you have thought he would escape from the dungeon? It should have been impossible. He obviously had some help from someone at Esgyrn Castle, someone sympathetic enough to the Welsh cause to overrule their loyalty to me. I will need to investigate, for I cannot afford to have such a traitor in our midst.”

“No.”

His brother had a fair number of Welshmen in his employ, men they had thought trustworthy. A few of them would have come in contact with the prisoner when they’d brought him water and bread over the last few days. Which of them had been swayed by the man’s foul ranting, Matthew wondered? He could all too well imagine Bryn spewing his venom through the trap door, telling them they didn’t owe anything to the despised invaders. Damn it all, he should have seen to the man himself, or even better, leave him to rot like the rat he was.

They would have to make sure the incident was isolated and they were not harboring a nest of traitors.

“I’ll help you,” he told Connor.

And throttle the man with my own hands when we find him. Because by freeing him, the traitor had allowed Bryn to find Branwen and almost rape her again. That was an unforgivable offence.

“Yes. Now, go back to Branwen.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthew said, getting back to his feet. “I know an agreement had been reached between you and—” He glanced toward Bryn, loath to even speak his name.

“I’m not sorry. ’Tis as you said. I don’t want to owe people like him anything. I believe his son will honor the agreement, and from what I’ve seen, he is a far more reasonable man than his father was. Do not give it another thought. I’ll deal with the corpse.”

Matthew nodded and gave his brother a brief, brotherly hug. “I’ll go get Rich—my father to help you. He will keep the secret. It is best if word of what happened here doesn’t spread. That way we’ll catch the traitor more easily. He won’t be on his guard if he thinks Bryn safely out of the way. He might even think his disappearance has yet to be noticed.”

“You’re right.” Connor nodded. “Now go to your woman. She’ll need you.”

Aye, she would, but not as much as he needed her. He couldn’t wait to hold her, and let her know she was safe at last.

He ran back to the bailey in search of the carpenter. Night was falling fast over Esgyrn Castle. Even better. The dark would help with the secrecy. He found his father in the stables, talking to the groom about the best way to skin a rabbit. They both looked sheepish when they saw him, as if caught doing something wrong. For some reason, it amused him. They had hardly been plotting anyone’s demise.

“A word with you, if I may.”

“Of course.” Richard followed him to the gate without question.

“I need you to go to the rose garden just outside the lists and find Connor,” Matthew instructed in a low voice. “He needs help. It’s a delicate matter, but I told him you could assist him.” He didn’t want to reveal more, in case they were overheard. Until the traitor had been identified, they could not be too cautious. It could be anyone of the people around them.

“If you think I can be of service to his lordship, then of course I will go.”

“I know you can. He will explain everything.” He hesitated. “And, father? Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, son. Thanks for thinking of me.”

The two of them stared at each another awkwardly, then slapped one another on the shoulder. Matthew cleared his throat. Dear God, but it felt good to have someone to call father.

And now that he had found himself a second family, one who was related to him by blood, he wanted to claim Branwen as his, make her part of his life as well. Would she agree? There was only one way of knowing.

After one last nod at his father, he ran back to his bedchamber.

“Branwen,” he called, knocking softly so as not to frighten her. “’Tis me. You can open the door.”

At first he didn’t hear anything. Had she fallen asleep? Or was it worse than that? For a dreadful moment he thought she might have left the room in search of comfort, and he would have to go through the whole castle to find her. He wasn’t sure his frayed nerves would be able to withstand it. Then at last, he heard the latch being removed. A heartbeat later, he saw her beautiful face beaming at him.

“Oh, Matthew!” She threw herself into his arms. “Are you safe?”

“Me? Yes, sweet, don’t worry about me, I’m all right.” He tightened his hold over her quivering body. “It’s all over. He’s dead. You won’t have to worry about him ever again.”

They remained locked in the embrace a long moment, bathing in each other’s warmth and scent. Then he nudged her back inside the room and closed the door behind them.

“’Tis late already, and you’ll be tired after your ordeal,” he told her, hoping not to let his longing show on his face. “Stay here tonight, in my bed.”

This time it was him asking. And to his relief, she didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Without further ado, she stripped down to her shift before slipping under the covers, as if it were the most natural thing to do, and she trusted he would not get overcome by lust at the sight of her in such a state of disarray. And she was right not to worry.

Though he could not help noticing how beautiful she was, though his body had responded as could be expected at the proximity of a half-naked woman, he knew he would be able to remain in control of his urges. This longing he felt for her was not a carnal impulse.

It was a call of the soul.

Branwen was exhausted, and badly shaken by the events of the day. Right now, she needed security. He could provide that, and he would be honored to. His declarations would have to wait, his lovemaking would have to wait, everything but tenderness and care would have to wait.

With as much ease as she had discarded her gown and shoes, he took off his tunic, braies, and boots and joined her in the bed.

“Come here, Raven, lie in my arms,” he said, settling himself next to her. “Where you belong.”