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Chapter Eleven

I t the end, it was close to two months before James could make it back to Sheridan Manor. Traveling with an unstable woman like Margaret had been even more taxing than he had anticipated. It took forever to talk her into getting back on the horse every time they stopped and she was not confident enough in the saddle for them to canter or even trot. Once, she had even fled during the night. As she had left on foot rather than stealing the horse she could barely control, it had been relatively easy to get her back, but still, that had meant another day’s delay.

When they had finally reached her village, Henry had been nowhere to be found. His wife had informed them he’d gone to the fair in a town all the way on the coast and would likely not be back for another fortnight or so. Determined to impress upon his nephew by marriage the importance of not allowing his mother anywhere near Sheridan Manor again, James had elected to wait. Upon his return, as expected, the young man had been reluctant to agree it was his responsibility to look after his mother and it had taken James days he could ill afford to make him see reason.

Against all odds, it had been Henry’s wife who had finally convinced him that they could take care of her. What had possessed the woman to agree to have such a mother-in-law under her roof, James could not fathom, but he had not wasted time wondering about her motivations, as it meant he was finally free to go.

All in all, it had been a nightmare and he’d sworn as he left that he would never set foot in that part of the world again.

His life was now at Sheridan Manor. He wanted no other. Work had been his refuge when he’d lost his wife and having Matthew had made him feel as if he’d not lost all the family he ever had. Now, with the promise of a baby coming, he felt more than ever that it was the place for him to be.

A baby—and a woman he wanted.

Carys, who had promised to wait for him.

As soon as he saw the dear, familiar shape of Sheridan Manor in the distance, he urged his mount into a canter, then into a full gallop. It felt good to have something to look forward to, and someone he wanted to be reunited with.

Matthew was the first person he saw when he brought his lathered horse to a halt in the bailey a moment later.

“James.” The young man looked mighty relieved to see him. “You’re back just in time.”

In time for what? Heart beating hard, James jumped down from the saddle. The joy he’d felt coursing through his veins as his stallion’s hooves had pounded the ground vanished in the blink of an eye. What did he mean? Surely Branwen’s travails had not started yet? She was not supposed to give birth for another two months. Dear God, please, let there not be a problem with the babe. He knew all too well being born too early was a death sentence for a child. It had been for his first daughter.

“In time for what? Is it the baby?”

“No, thank God, Branwen is fine.” A small smile, the same he always gave when talking about his wife, curved Matthew’s lips. “But I was considering going to Wales and I didn’t want to leave Sheridan Manor without a man I trust within the walls.”

“You want to leave now?” James could hardly hide his surprise. With his wife so near her term, leaving should be the last thing Matthew was considering.

There was a sigh, proving he had not taken the decision lightly. “I know I should not even entertain the notion at this time, but I received a letter from Connor yesterday. After months of searching, he’s finally captured Gruffydd ap Hywel, the rebel who almost killed him shortly after his marriage to Esyllt. He wants me to be there when he metes out his punishment, and I will admit it would please me also. The man has escaped retribution for far too long. It is time he paid for what he did to my brother’s family, in good part through my fault.”

James nodded. Now he understood Matthew’s quandary, because he’d been told about the events of the past year. Indeed the Welshman deserved to die ten thousand deaths for what he had done, abducting an innocent child, then forcing her mother to hand over her husband so that the rebels could kill him in the most gruesome manner. The decisions Matthew had made at the time, before he’d come to trust his new sister-in-law, had cost Connor and Esyllt much suffering and months apart and he wanted to atone for it in every way he could. It was understandable.

But the moment was ill chosen.

“Are you going to go then?”

“Branwen is urging me to, even if she cannot travel herself. She wants to see her friend avenged as soon as possible and I feel I need to be there. But I would not have left while you were away. Now with you around, I know the place will be well guarded.”

“Thank you.” This proof of trust moved him so much he allowed himself to place a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Go. I swear I will look after your wife.”

And her mother.

Matthew nodded and ordered the groom to saddle his horse Raven, named for his wife, forthwith. “Go get a drink and something to eat,” he told him next. “Forgive me for not joining you. I need to go see Branwen and say my goodbyes.”

It was only early afternoon. Leaving without delay would ensure he was back in time for his child’s birth. If he rode as if the demons of hell were in hot pursuit, he could be back within a fortnight. It was obvious that was what he intended to do.

After one last pat on his stallion’s rump, James made his way to the room at the back of the solar. Before leaving, he’d deposited his personal set of keys in the iron chest and now that he was back, he felt naked without it. He was steward of the place, and he’d just been entrusted with the protection of its inhabitants by Matthew. He would not fail in his duty. Having restored the bundle to its rightful place at his hip, he turned around—and walked straight into Carys, who was coming through the door.

They almost collided and ended up locked in an embrace.

He couldn’t help a smile at the irony of it. A year ago they had found themselves in that very room, two strangers unable to communicate. Now each was what the other needed and they understood one another all too well. Even better, they wanted the same thing. To be together.

“James,” she said in a breathy voice. “You’re back.”

“Yes.” Finally.

“It’s been too long.”

“Yes.” Far too long. “Did you learn to swim in the end?”

He started when the inane question left his lips. Was that all he could ask after so long apart from Carys? But she smiled as if he’d said the very thing she’d wanted to hear.

“I started to learn with Matthew, who took all three of us to the beach a few times. It was fine but then I decided to wait, because I want you to be the one to teach me.”

His heart missed a beat when he realized he wanted that too. “Yes. I will show you.”

Her smile wavered and she lifted her face up to him, as if readying herself for a confession. “I’ve missed you.”

He didn’t even blink. “Me too.”

He had missed her every day, in little touches. Every time he’d seen a robin, he had thought back to her smile at the sight of the little bird, every time Henry’s wife had taken her embroidery basket out, he’d compared her work to Carys’ flowers and leaves, and found them lacking, every time someone had asked about his scar, he’d remembered the feel of her fingers on his skin.

Every time he’d lain in bed he’d ached for her.

Had it been that bad for her? Though he knew he shouldn’t wish that agony on anyone, he found himself hoping it had. Because then it would mean she was as desperate for him as he was for her.

Right now she was looking at him with such intensity that, for a moment, he wondered if she would kiss him. Dare he take the first step if she didn’t? He so dearly wished to feel her lips on his again. A light finger landed on his cheek before he could move or say anything. The brush on his skin sent shivers down his spine.

“I see your cut is healing nicely.”

“Yes. Someone did an excellent job with the stitching,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m told the scar barely shows.”

“It doesn’t.” She sounded pleased that her efforts had been rewarded. “You look as handsome as ever. Now, will you please kiss me?”

Oh, the wicked woman! To give him such an order in a matter of fact manner, when she had to suspect there was nothing he wanted more. James leaned in, blood roaring in his veins. Finally, the kiss he’d been desperate for. “I’ve thought of little else than kissing you during my?—”

The door to the solar opened, interrupted his declaration. Whispers and muffled giggles heralded the arrival of a couple of lovers intent on making the most of a room they believed was empty.

James gritted his teeth. Not again! It was exactly like a year ago. They had gone full circle indeed. Who was it this time? Matthew, intent on making love to his wife one last time before going to Wales? Surely not. A wild tryst had been well and good then, but the comfort of a bed would be the best place the take a woman in her condition.

“Ah, Richard, please, be quick,” Avice’s voice, urgent amidst the rustling of clothes. Despite himself, James smiled. It would seem that the carpenter had not lost time in acting on his advice regarding the cook. During his absence, he’d gone to the woman, who’d only been too glad to surrender. Good for them. “I need to fill the pastries for tonight.”

“Mm, don’t worry, this will be quick. I, too, need to fill something.”

James winced at the man’s poor jest but, judging from the delighted chuckle that reached his ear, Avice was not put out in the least, used to her lover’s dubious sense of humor. A grunt followed, then a moan. This was excruciating. When he finally dared look at Carys, who was still pressed against him, James saw that, far from being embarrassed this time, she was fighting a smile. His shoulders sagged in relief. Apparently, when it wasn’t Matthew and Branwen she overheard, she saw the piquancy in the situation.

“Whatever shall we do?” she whispered, bringing her mouth to his ear.

For a moment he was tempted to answer that they should do exactly like the couple in the solar and make use of the table behind her to slake their own needs. Did she have any idea what it was doing to him to have her body so close to his?

“Get the hell out of here before it’s too late,” he whispered back. “I have no intention of hearing Richard make salacious jests about cream shooting out of him and I fear we are headed that way.”

To his delight, Carys let out a tinkling laugh, far too loud for the purpose of staying discreet. When the couple in the other room became silent, he understood she’d done it on purpose to warn them they were not alone, just like he had done all these months ago with Matthew and Branwen by coughing. The grunts and moans were replaced by whimpers of dismay and grumbles of frustration. A moment later the door opened again, and silence settled back into the room.

“It seems that once again we were in the wrong place at the wrong moment,” Carys murmured.

James could not quite agree. The wrong moment, yes, perhaps, but not the wrong place, since she was with him, and he was holding her.

“Yes,” he said nonetheless. “Last time I couldn’t even tell you what was going on. I felt really bad about that.”

She giggled, a sound he had missed more than anything else. “There was no need for any explanation, I understood easily enough. And to tell you the truth, I’m glad I didn’t understand what Matthew told my daughter.”

Yes. It was probably for the best she had not heard what had been said.

He cleared his throat, guessing they would not kiss now. Somehow, because of the interruption, the moment had passed, and some sanity had come back to him. He now felt desperate to do what he’d wanted to do weeks ago. Kissing could wait, this confession could not. And perhaps with luck, it would lead to kissing—and more.

“Listen, Carys, the day Margaret arrived I had made up my mind to talk to you,” he started, letting go of her soft, all too distracting body. If they touched, he might not be able to say what he had to say. “But after she’d claimed to be with child, I could not. I thought I would have to marry her and it did not feel right to open up in those circumstances.”

Carys’ face softened. “I understand. But you could do it now.”

Yes. It was the obvious solution, but he was oddly intimidated. Where could he start? At the moment the revelation had struck him, maybe. It would have the added advantage of giving him the opportunity to apologize for his behavior.

“That day, when I saw Richard kissing you in the hall and offering you a future with him, I went mad.”

“Yes. So I saw.” The words could have sounded like a condemnation but the look in her eyes betrayed the fact that she had liked his reaction. Relief swept through him. He’d feared she would take him for a crazed, possessive madman laying his claim over a woman he had no right to. Apparently, she had not.

“I did not go mad because I thought you belonged to me,” he specified nonetheless. “But seeing him kiss you and talk to you about the future made me see that I should have been the one to do it. Only … I didn’t think I could.”

“Why didn’t you?” Carys’ tone was encouraging. In that moment he knew she wouldn’t judge. After what he had confided in her the day they had kissed, she would understand.

“Because I was scared. I still am.” There it was. The truth he had shied away from and thought he would have difficulty explaining, slipping out of his lips as naturally as if it had always meant to be uttered in front of her. “I’m scared of being with someone, of going through what I went through with Joanne, of losing more children. That is why in all the years since her death I never looked for anyone to be with. That is why I didn’t dare examine what I have come to feel for you. I had resolved to end up my life alone and I didn’t know how to question this decision, or even if I wanted to risk it.” He shook his head. “Forgive me, I did not find the courage to accept what I wanted.”

“There is nothing to forget. I understand.”

Carys’ chest constricted and expanded at the same time. Constricted because she was sorry for the pain James had been through, expanded because, despite his fears, all was not lost. It so happened that she might be the one person he could allow himself to be with.

It was time to make a confession of her own, a confession she had wanted to make for some time. She hoped it would give him the strength to act on his budding feelings for her.

“Perhaps with me you don’t need to worry.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, hiding her face against his chest. Not looking at him would help her to voice what she needed to say. She spoke with her mouth at his pectoral, willing him to give her a chance. “Because I will never give you children. There is nothing to fear. Whatever we do together, there will never be any issue. You will never father a child on me, I can?—”

“You never know. You’re younger than me, and my aunt was well past her fortieth year when she gave birth to her last son. My own mother had me late in life, as I told you.”

He sounded almost offended that she should consider herself too old to be a mother, even though anyone in their right mind would concede that a woman her age was past her child-bearing years. But that was not what she meant.

It was obvious she would have to be clearer. She should have started with that part but she had hoped not to reawaken her own demons. “No. You don’t understand. It’s not just my age. I … I’m barren.”

After saying the terrible word out loud, she nestled herself closer into his embrace and waited. There it was, the tragedy of her life. What would James do with the revelation? An arm, warm and comforting, wrapped around her shoulders.

“You are?”

She nodded, tears stinging her eyes. “The greatest regret of my life is never having known the joy of carrying my own children. I raised Branwen and Eirwen, and I love them dearly, as you know, but … it’s not quite the same. It’s not quite the same.”

“No.”

There was a silence. Then James asked, his voice low and soothing.

“How do you know you’re the barren one? Forgive me for saying as much, but if your marriage never produced any children, it could have been due to your husband’s inability, not yours. People are quick to put the blame on the woman in such instances, but as I see it, there are two people in a couple. Dewi could have been?—”

She shook her head. He meant well, and she was grateful for it, but she knew the truth. As painful as it would be to bare it all, she would have to explain how she was certain she was unable to carry children. She could not afford to leave a shred of doubt lingering in James’ mind, not when there was so much at stake. He needed to trust that he would never find himself in a position to father a child, or he would never give them a chance. Too scared of another potentially devastating loss, he would not be able to let himself go in her arms, no matter how much he wanted to, like he had with Joanne. Eventually, it would become a problem.

But they didn’t have to go through any of this, not when she knew his seed would never take root inside her.

“No, I know I was the barren one, not Dewi,” she said, her voice low and emotionless.

“How?”

Thank God he couldn’t see her, for she had surely gone bright red. What would he make of her explanation, which would present her in an unfavorable light? But despite her embarrassment, she didn’t consider lying.

“After Dewi’s death, I was still quite young, at least young enough to hope I might bear a babe. I didn’t want to remarry but I thought perhaps I could have a child or two of my own to love. As you say, I couldn’t be certain I was the one at fault. If my husband had been the barren one then there was still a chance I could conceive with another man. So I … ”

“You found yourself a lover,” James supplied when she faltered. He didn’t sound condemning, for which she was grateful. He made it seem like it had been a reasonable decision.

“Yes. It was not for pleasure, but because I hoped to get with child,” she specified all the same. “Which was a good thing because it didn’t … He wasn’t … ”

Once again, he came to her rescue when the words eluded her. “The man did not give you pleasure, you mean.”

“No, not really.”

Alun had not been rough, or even without skill, but she had never felt much in his arms. Certainly she had never experienced the storm of release Dewi had known to unleash inside her. Of course, he’d never noticed. Or perhaps he had, but he’d not really cared. And neither had she. Satisfaction had not been what their encounters were about. In her heart she had still been Dewi’s wife, so perhaps the fault had not been all his. Perhaps she had her share of responsibility in the whole affair. Perhaps she’d not been ready to accept another man’s touch and let herself go. In any case, it did not matter.

What she had wanted from Alun, she’d never gotten.

“I bedded him for almost a year, to no avail. My womb never once quickened.” Before he could point out that it did not mean anything, that sometimes it took time for couples to conceive, as evidenced by Branwen and Matthew, who could not keep their hands from one another and yet were still waiting for their first child to be born, she carried on. “One day a young woman came to the village, in search of Dewi. She said that he was her father and she looked too much like him for me to doubt her claim.”

James’ hold around her tightened. “Oh, Carys. That will have been terrible for you to hear.” There was sorrow in his voice.

His concern warmed her. “No, it’s not what you think. He was never unfaithful to me. Given her age, it was clear the girl had been conceived in his youth, before he and I met. But I understood that day that if he was her father, then he could not be the barren one in our marriage. I stopped seeing Alun after that and moved to the village close to Castell Esgyrn. There, I met Branwen and Eirwen. When their mother died, Branwen was ten and Eirwen not yet seven. I took them under my roof. Having them with me helped me make my peace with the fact that I would never have my own children.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m the one who is sorry. I shouldn’t complain to you, when you lost your children so tragically. ’Tis worse to lose someone you love and have seen grow than never to have had anyone.”

He’d had to watch as his son slowly lost his grip on life. He’d had to accept he would never see his daughters open their eyes. He’d had to lift the lifeless body of his little boy from the cot he’d placed him in the night before, after a goodnight kiss.

All of this was worse.

“I don’t know. Pain is pain, and you suffered, if for different reasons.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I’m sorry, I wish you hadn’t gone through that.”

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes. Hold me, just like that.”

He did hold her. For a long moment in the small room, and then all through the night. Because when the time came to get to bed, he led her to his own room without a word. She lay next to him and then in his arms as if it were the most natural thing to do.

And perhaps it was.