Page 5 of A Savior for Branwen (The Welsh Rebels #2)

Chapter Four

A bird landed on the branch next to him. At first Matthew thought it was a dove or a white pigeon, nothing out of the ordinary. Then he looked more closely when the animal let out a frightful croak. A croak no dove or pigeon would ever make.

“I’ll be damned,” he said between his teeth.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Esyllt asked, turning toward him.

“Nothing. Forgive me.” He should not have used those crude words in a lady’s presence. If Connor had been here, he would have remonstrated with him for using that kind of language in front of his wife. “Only I saw a white raven in that tree. It took me by surprise. I had never seen one of them before, hadn’t even believed such birds could exist.”

“No, me neither.” She looked in the direction he was indicating and watched as the bird flew away with a series of indignant squawks, as if annoyed humans dared to talk about him. “How odd that we should see one so close to Branwen’s cottage when they are so rare. Her name means ‘white raven’, you know.” Matthew clenched his fists. Yes, he did know. “Or ‘beautiful raven’, it depends.”

Beautiful. That he could agree with. So beautiful she drew men like a moth to a flame, before consuming them with her inner heat one after the other. The question he’d asked himself time and time again since the day before flashed through his mind once more. How many men had she welcomed inside her body?

How big of a fool was he to have been taken in by her brazen ways?

Grunting, he nudged his horse further away from his sister-in-law’s mare. Perhaps they had better not talk, for what would she reveal about her friend next? That she was the kindest of souls? That she’d lost three husbands in suspicious circumstances? He didn’t want to hear anything positive about Branwen when his mood was so dark, and he feared hearing more vile revelations when he was already seething. It was therefore best to stay silent.

What he would have liked was to urge his mount into a reckless gallop, to try and ease away the tension in his body, but anything other than a walk was out of the question. Esyllt was due to give birth any day now, he could not cause her any discomfort just because he was angry. It was already quite a feat for her to be on horseback at this late stage, but she had insisted on accompanying him to the village when he’d told her that was where he was going. He had tried to backtrack and say that he might not spend a lot of time in the actual village, but she had insisted she wanted to see her friend, to check how she was after her fainting spell. There had been no way to dissuade her, and he could not let her ride unescorted.

They soon reached the village nestled at the foot of the hill.

As he was helping Esyllt down from the saddle, a woman came to speak to her in rapid Welsh. She was obviously congratulating her lady on the impending birth, but Matthew was not able to understand much of the conversation. He did his best not to betray any impatience, but it must have shown on his face, for after a while, Esyllt took pity on him.

“Go ahead. I will join you in a moment.”

Matthew did not need to be told twice. This was even better. The conversation he wanted to have with Branwen didn’t need any witnesses. He headed toward her cottage—and almost collided with a man walking out of the door. When he nodded, Matthew recognized him as one of the Englishmen stationed in town. His breathing was labored and his long hair somewhat ruffled.

“Come to take your turn, have you?” He let out a laugh and winked. “You might want to wait a moment, give the poor girl a respite.”

“The girl?” Matthew repeated stupidly.

“In the hut. God knows what her name is. Probably something neither of us can get our tongue around. Fortunately, uttering foreign sounds is not the only thing she can do with that mouth of hers.”

Matthew recoiled. That man had just been fucking Branwen? And he thought he was next? He had never felt dirtier—or more foolish.

Without addressing a single word to the vile man for fear he would throttle him on the spot, he stormed inside the cottage. He could not ignore it anymore; he’d been completely wrong about her motives for coming to him. Branwen didn’t pose any danger to his life, only to his pride. She didn’t work for someone who wanted him dead, she only seduced all the men she could find with shocking disregard for modesty.

He found her by the window, pale and trembling, when he had imagined she would be as ruddy-faced and out of breath as her English lover. When she saw him, she paled further. Ah, so she hadn’t counted on him finding out just how debauched she was and didn’t like to have to admit to it out loud.

Too bad.

“I just met your friend,” he said, throwing her a look he hoped conveyed his disgust.

“M-my friend?”

“Forgive me, perhaps I should say your lover . Did you give the poor man a chance to make you come?” he snarled, remembering how she had denied him the right to make her reach her peak. She must have found him lacking, and unworthy of the honor, for what would be the point of bedding all the men she could find if not to feel pleasure? “He was very complimentary of your skills at any rate. Perhaps I should see for myself what it is you can do with that pretty mouth of yours. Since you don’t care about the pleasure I want to give you, why should I worry about it? I should just use you for my own relief.”

Branwen placed a hand against the wall, as if to steady herself. “It’s not what you think.”

“Are you saying that the man coming out of your cottage panting and sweating didn’t just fuck you?” He glanced toward the pallet in the corner. It was neatly made and there wasn’t a crease on the blanket. So they had not used it for their tryst. Then what? The chair, like she had with him in the solar? The table? “Did he take you up against the wall like a whore? Is that how you like it?” He took a step toward her.

“No, it’s not. Please, stop talking to me thus.”

“How should I talk to you?” He took another step toward her. They were now within touching distance of each other and he made a conscious effort not to reach out to her. “Do you want me to woo you beforehand, is that what it is? Why? There was no need last time. You just lifted your skirts and sheathed my cock inside your cunt before I had time to utter a sound.” The crude words passed his lips without providing him any relief from the disillusion churning in his guts. “What would you like today? Shall I take you where you stand?”

“Matthew, please. You … You’re frightening me.”

The words were like a slap. He’d never frightened a woman in his life before. Men, aye, many, for a variety of reasons. But women … He had never caused any to look at him with eyes wide with fear. He took a closer look at Branwen.

Christ on the cross, was she crying?

He took a step back, horrified at his behavior. Who was this man, talking to a woman about using her mouth for his selfish pleasure, calling her a whore? Using foul language to describe what they had done? Backing her up into a corner, while threatening to fuck her against the wall in anger?

No wonder she was as pale as a corpse, and scared of what he might do. He was furious, but that was no excuse.

“I—”

Just then the door opened behind him. Damnation, this had to be Esyllt, finally free of the villager congratulating her. Cursing his luck, Matthew turned to face her, intent on asking her to give them a moment’s privacy. The conversation needed to take a different turn. He needed to calm down, show Branwen he was not dangerous. He needed answers, and this was not the way to get them.

“My lady,” he said, doing his best to sound calm. “Would you mind—” Her grimace stopped him mid-sentence. “What is it?”

“I think …” She stopped and stared at him in horror, then at the place between her feet. Matthew followed her gaze and saw that the earthen floor under her skirts was wet. “I think my waters just broke.”

Branwen rushed over to her friend, both worried for her and relieved at the interruption. Matthew had been out of his mind with fury, hatred, or lust, she wasn’t sure quite which. What was certain was that there had been a mad glint in his eyes and he’d used language the likes of which she had never heard before. It would have been hard to face him in normal circumstances, but after the Englishman’s assault, it was unbearable. Her life, never an easy one, had just taken a turn for the worst.

“Are you in pain?” she asked Esyllt, forcing herself to focus on the other woman’s predicament. Now was not the time to dwell on her pitiful situation.

“No, but I think the baby might be coming.” Her friend gave her a watery smile. “We all know what that means when a woman’s waters break, don’t we?”

Yes, they did. Esyllt could not ride back to Castell Esgyrn or go anywhere in that state. She would have to stay here until they knew what was happening.

Taking her by the elbow, Branwen led her to her pallet.

“Lie down. I will go get Ffion. She will be able to examine you, and tell us how things are progressing.”

“Go get Connor first,” Esyllt panted. “I need him.”

“Connor will be no use to you right now, we had better?—”

“I will get him.”

To Branwen’s relief, Matthew stepped forward, intent on helping. But, of course, he knew that his brother would want to be with his wife at this difficult time. After losing his first wife and babe in childbed, he would never allow Esyllt to face the birth alone. It was already a miracle he had allowed her so far from the castle when she was so near her term.

“I will go to this Ffion on my way, if Branwen tells me where to find her, and then I will ride straight to Esgyrn Castle. On Midnight’s back it won’t take me long. I’ll bring Connor back to you before you know it.”

“Don’t …” Esyllt clutched at her stomach. “Don’t let him worry unduly. He will be?—”

“I know, but it will be all right,” Matthew soothed. He surprised Branwen, Esyllt, and perhaps even himself by placing a hand on his sister-in-law’s head in a paternal gesture. “Now, lie down and let me go get the woman you need.”

Branwen stared. Was this really the same man she’d faced in all his ire only moments ago?

Just like she had the other day when Jane had walked in on them moments after he’d achieved his release, she marveled at his ability to dissemble. Before Esyllt’s arrival, he’d been like a demon possessed, speaking to her in the crudest of terms. For a moment she had wondered if he would not assault her, up against the wall, as he’d threatened to do, and now he was the calm and reassuring presence Esyllt needed to keep panic at bay. This was even more remarkable that he’d been less than accepting of his sister-in-law at first. But now there was no more ardent supporter of her.

What would it feel like to have such a man at her side, Branwen wondered? If he was as fierce in love and protection as he was in accusation and suspicion, then she would have nothing to worry about for the rest of her life.

Unfortunately, he was as likely to want her in it as he was to want someone to poke a hole in his chest.

“I’ll be back in no time,” he told Esyllt, before turning back to face her. His eyes were two glittering gems. “Now tell me where to find this Ffion.”

“What the hell were you thinking ?” Connor roared. “Bringing my wife, my pregnant wife, into your debauched life?”

“Debauched?” Matthew repeated, incredulous. The word could hardly apply to his life and they both knew it.

But his brother was beside himself with worry, and past all reasoning. “Don’t play the innocent with me. Why would you go to see someone you kissed so passionately if not to bed her? Well, next time you feel the urge to fuck a woman, kindly leave my wife out of it, even if that woman is her friend, do you hear!”

Matthew gritted his teeth and stayed silent under the onslaught, knowing deep down Connor needed an outlet for his fear. This wasn’t really about him taking Esyllt anywhere or fucking anyone, it wasn’t about him at all.

His brother was merely petrified of hearing that the dreaded moment had come. After what had happened with Helen, such a reaction was all too understandable. He would be out of his mind with fear at the idea of losing another wife in childbirth, this time one he loved more than life itself.

Against all odds, Connor had fallen in love with the woman he had been forced to marry, and Matthew himself, despite his initial reluctance, had come to respect and love Esyllt. He didn’t want to lose her either, but it was different. Because he didn’t love her in that way, he was able to hold on to his sanity and see that the birth did not have to end up in disaster. Not all women died in childbed, thankfully, and his sister-in-law had borne a child already, with no complications. There was no reason to think this birth would be any different. He just needed to reassure his brother.

“Esyllt asked me to tell you everything was progressing normally, that you weren’t to worry overmuch,” he said, knowing how this information would be received.

“Oh, did she really?”

“Yes. Now come. I’ve already asked for Storm to be saddled. I’ll take you to her. She asked after you.”

He didn’t need to say more. Connor flew out of the door. A moment later they were both thundering through the castle gate, heading for Branwen’s cottage.