Chapter 4

Chapter Four

I t took Esyllt a while to recover from the intensity of the moment she and Connor had shared in her room, when she had felt his breath at her neck and his pulsing shaft in her hand. Fortunately, she could not get dressed as fast as her husband did, and she lingered purposefully over her toilette to give herself some time to compose herself.

By the time she joined him and Matthew in the great hall, she was confident neither of the men would see anything amiss.

“Good morning, Lady Sheridan,” her brother-in-law greeted, standing up. “I trust you slept well.”

She was certain Connor had asked him to be cordial, because he never spoke to her if he could help it, much less show her signs of deference. She decided to behave as if he were genuinely interested in her well-being. No point in antagonizing him further.

“I did, thank you. I hope you did too.”

Pleasantries out of the way, they all sat to a lavish meal of bread, cheese, meat pies and gruel. While she ate, Esyllt looked at the two men sitting opposite each other.

One dark, one fair, one with piercing green irises, the other with velvety brown eyes, they could not have looked more different if they’d tried. Perhaps they did try. Their choice of clothes, their attitudes, the way they talked, everything set them apart. The only thing they shared was a powerful physique, but even that produced a different effect. Connor appeared relaxed, whereas Matthew seemed full of pent-up energy. The stealthy wild cat and the prancing hound, both equally fearsome, both equally compelling. You just couldn’t avert your eyes from them, and she didn’t try.

What sort of a lover was Matthew, she wondered? Tender or passionate? Did he tease his conquests, make them think they were about to explode, and then leave them wanting, like Connor had done? Or did he kiss them until they passed out in ecstasy? Did he expect his lovers to lick him? Did he demand it?

Esyllt shook her head as the shocking thoughts crossed her mind. She should not be wondering how her brother-in-law behaved in bed. Connor already thought her a wanton, she could not start becoming one.

She blushed and turned her attention back to her gruel. Soon, however, she was ogling the men again. It was impossible not to. They were simply too compelling. Inevitably, Connor caught her staring. He smiled and winked, as if he’d guessed why she could not tear her eyes from them, and did not mind.

She went red to the roots of her hair. So that was his game, he was trying to embarrass her, instead of reprimanding her. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.

Matthew soon excused himself, explaining he’d already asked for his stallion to be saddled. Esyllt was not surprised to hear he wanted a ride. He’d never tried to hide his aversion for his new home. The more time he could spend outside of the castle walls, pretending to be in England, the better.

“I think your brother would prefer to go back to Sheridan Manor,” she observed once the door closed on him.

“He would. But he is not going to leave without me. As long as he thinks I’m in danger, he will remain by my side.” This was said with a side smile.

“You said he was your foster brother?” They had not discussed this any further since their wedding night and she was curious. Hadn’t she wanted to make the most of the opportunity of a meal shared together to get to know him better?

Connor dipped his hands into the bowl of scented water next to him before leaning back into his chair. “He’s my milk brother, really.”

“Oh. But then how come he ended up being fostered by your parents?” It was not uncommon for noble families to foster sons of other noble families for a few years. But Matthew’s mother could not have been well-born if she had fed the future Lord Sheridan.

“His mother, Rose, was a maid at Sheridan Manor but we are not sure who his father was. Unfortunately, we think it might well have been one of my parents’ guests, a nobleman thinking he could use the servants for his pleasure while he visited them.”

A dark shadow passed over Connor’s face at the thought. Esyllt shivered, sharing his disapproval.

“That is awful.” But all too common, unfortunately.

Connor nodded. “She fed me as a babe and Matthew and I grew up together, getting into all sorts of trouble, as real brothers do. When the poor woman died of a fever, we were both six. He had no family. I made my parents take him in and raise him as their own.”

Esyllt stared. A child of six imposing his will on his parents... Such determination did not bode well for her wish for independence. Would she ever manage to stand up to such a man?

“Matthew was born the day before me, which was why his mother was chosen to nurse me,” Connor added with a laugh. “He has never let me forget it and always acts the big brother.”

This she did not doubt. The way he’d decided to play the role of her husband-to-be was proof of his protective nature.

“And you let him?” She wouldn’t have thought her husband was one to be ordered around.

His green eyes gleamed. “I do, because it’s easier that way. But only when it suits me.”

And there she had it. Her husband could be docility itself, but only if and when it suited him. Otherwise, he would impose his will with implacable firmness. She shivered again, remembering how he had coaxed her into opening her legs for him the night before their wedding, all this without resorting to violence or threats.

“By the way,” Connor said, helping himself to another slice of dried apple, “I never asked you, what does ‘Esgyrn’ mean?”

The change of topic was welcome. She’d heard enough about her husband’s iron will for now.

“Castell Esgyrn means ‘Bones Castle.’” At his raised eyebrow, she carried on explaining. “Legend has it that when they dug around for the foundations of the castle a century ago, they found the remains of two people in the ditch yonder. No one knows who they were or how they died.”

“Mm. And what do you think? You must have a theory?”

Esyllt blushed. How had he guessed the mystery had fascinated her from the moment she had come to live here with Gwyn all those years ago? “I always imagined that they were two lovers dying together.”

“Killed by a jealous husband walking in on them, you mean?”

“No!” She had never once in all those years imagined that they would be an adulterous pair. Trust him to immediately assume the worst. “Rather two young people who had to meet in secret because they could not be together.”

“Ah.” Connor bit into his dried apple but he couldn’t hide the twinkle in his eyes. “My wife is a romantic.”

What could she answer to that? Nothing, because she was. The only problem was, she had never had the luxury of being one. Two marriages arranged by other people had seen to that. Love was not something she could afford to think about, now less than ever.

“In any case, we’ll never know who they truly were,” she concluded.

Just then the castle steward entered the great hall, followed by Gruffydd, four of his men and Matthew, who came to stand beside Connor, as if he feared the Welshmen would lunge at him with their swords drawn before he’d had time to blink. Apparently, he’d changed his mind about going for a ride in favor of playing the protective big brother again. The thought both warmed and reassured her, because she knew Gruffydd was only waiting for the opportunity to strike, and she didn’t want him to.

“ Bore da ,” he started, using the Welsh greeting. Esyllt would not be surprised if he pretended not to be able to speak English, just to make a point.

“Good morning,” Connor replied, standing up.

“And good morning to you too,” Matthew said when the Welshman pointedly ignored him.

“As for you, I might have greeted you if I knew who you were,” Gruffydd snarled, not in the least impressed. At least he’d reverted to English.

“You can call me Matthew. I’m his lordship’s brother.”

Though she should perhaps have sympathized with him, since she’d suffered from the deception herself, Esyllt enjoyed the sight of Gruffydd’s displeasure. He had been taken for a fool, but perhaps he did not deserve any better. After all, he had organized the match. If one person should have known who her groom was, it was him. The incident made her realize just how cynical he’d been, choosing a husband for her regardless of his personal qualities and not even bothering to meet him beforehand. If he’d been tricked, he had only himself to blame.

“Now, we have important matters to discuss,” he said, facing Connor once more. “That is, if you truly are Lord Sheridan, of course.”

“I am. You can safely address me with the respect you owe me and call me ‘my lord’.”

The rebuff was softened by a smile that would have ensnared a dragon, which was fortunate. Gruffydd had never looked more furious. Esyllt almost laughed out loud. There were some advantages to being married to a formidable man, it seemed, one who would not let anyone forget who was master of the situation. She would enjoy watching him tame Gruffydd.

“Leave us,” the Welshman said, not even bothering to look at her.

Before she could answer, Connor raised a hand. “Lady Sheridan will attend the meeting if such is her wish. She will be a useful addition to the proceedings. After all, she’s been the one looking after Esgyrn Castle since her husband’s death. As such, she is the most appropriate person to bring me up to date with its working, wouldn’t you agree? I will want to hear her opinion.”

Esyllt’s eyebrows shut upward. Was this another trick? Did her husband mean to expose her lack of knowledge in front of everyone and use it later on to impress on to her that she could not be involved in his decision making? If this were the case, he would be sorely disappointed because he was right, she was the best person to inform him of the castle’s workings and she would be only too glad to prove it.

“With your permission, my lord, I will stay,” she said, taking the arm he was offering. For the first time since she’d been told she was to remarry, a flicker of hope lit up in her chest. Perhaps this marriage would bring her some satisfaction. If she was allowed to help in the administration of their domain, she would not feel like a pretty ornament stripped of all power. As a trusted ally, she would be able to influence her husband’s decisions and make sure to protect her Welsh tenants’ interests from the worst of English greed. Not that she thought Connor an unreasonable man who would turn into a tyrant, but he himself was obeying his king’s orders.

Gruffydd raised a hand in protest when she started to walk toward the door on her husband’s arm. “Get back to whence you came and leave us men to?—”

“If I hear you address my wife in such a disrespectful manner again, I will demand that you apologize for it on your knees,” Connor snarled, coming to stand directly in front of Gruffydd. “Are we clear?”

He’d moved with the speed of an adder and looked barely less dangerous, ready to strike in her defense. Esyllt realized then that, no matter what he had subjected her to since his arrival, he’d always spared her from the worst of his temper. It was a welcome revelation. Even when he'd discovered her supposed wantonness or thought she’d been out to kill him, he had not spoken to her with half as much venom as he had just spoken to Gruffydd.

The Welshman, predictably, was beside himself with fury at being upbraided in front of his men. “But, she’s a woman!”

“Thank you, yes, I had noticed. In the future there will be no need to point out the obvious to me. It will save us a lot of precious time.” He glared at Gruffydd. “When you are ready, you can apologize to her. She is still waiting. If I have to remind you again, I will do so with the tip of my sword.”

There was a pause. Then the older man surrendered.

“Forgive me, Es—Lady Sheridan. Please join us in the discussion.”

Esyllt raised her head and afforded a gracious smile. “I will, thank you.”

All together, they proceeded to the solar.

As he listened to Esyllt’s report on what had transpired since her husband’s death, Connor understood that his wife was as astute a negotiator and clever an administrator as he had hoped. He’d already had chance to see that the castle was running smoothly. By all accounts, everything that needed to be repaired had been repaired, the stockrooms were full, the tenants were happy and well-fed and his wife was aware of all that was happening on the domain, from the state of the portcullis to the due date of the cook’s daughter’s baby. It was an impressive achievement, especially in these troubled times. But even if she had not been so knowledgeable, he would have preferred to deal with her anyway. She was much more pleasant than gnarled old Gruffydd—and much easier on the eye.

The man really was insufferable, making it look as if his presence were indispensable when it was little more than an irritation. He had nothing to offer except pointless criticism.

“I think we have naught else to say,” Matthew concluded a moment later, echoing his thoughts exactly.

“It’s time to adjourn the meeting,” Connor agreed. It was a mystery the men had come at all. As far as he could tell, nothing had been achieved.

One of the Welshmen, who so far had stayed silent, allowing his lord to speak, could not help himself from delivering one last parting shot.

“You might be master of Castell Esgyrn now, but rest assured that we will never forget what happened the night you arrived.”

Connor would have answered with his own pique, but before he could open his mouth, his attention was caught by Esyllt, who had gone bright red. What had caused this reaction, he wondered? It could have been anger at the man’s presumption, of course, but somehow he doubted it. Then she bit her bottom lip and he had his answer.

Him.

Their first night together, when she had mistaken him for Lord Sheridan’s squire and welcomed him in her bed, that was what she was thinking about, here, amongst all the men. His own body jerked in remembrance. Feeling her sheath wrapped around him had been one of the hottest moments of his life.

He sent her a fiery look and had the satisfaction of seeing her lower her eyes.

So he had been right, she was thinking of their night together.

Not for the first time, he marveled that he had found the strength to leave her bed when he had, and not stayed until he had reached his release. It had never been his intention to make love to her, simply to ascertain how far she was prepared to go, but once he had sunk into her silken depths and seen her eyes change colour with the pleasure it had brought her, he had almost thrown caution to the wind.

What harm would it do to possess her fully, he’d wondered? They were to be married in the morning anyway and she clearly wanted him. He could have pumped a few more times and brought about his release, and hers. It would not have taken long, he’d been close to bursting, and she’d been on the verge of climax. He’d seen it in her eyes, heard it in her breathing, felt it around his cock.

But in the end, reason had prevailed. He’d left her warmth, one of the most difficult things he had ever had to do.

“Rest assured that I will never forget that night either,” he said, his eyes firmly on Esyllt.

His tone was so intimate that no one dared add anything, not even Gruffydd.

“I will take my leave now, if I may.” The Welshman stood up. “I think all that needed to be said has been said. Lady Sheridan, will you see me and my men out?”

Though it was clear the man wanted an opportunity to speak to her alone, and in Welsh, Connor gave his agreement. Mayhap this gesture of goodwill that cost him little would go a long way into appeasing the man, and he could always ask Esyllt what they had discussed afterward. He felt sure she would tell him the truth, as she seemed no fonder of the man than he was himself.

Esyllt followed Gruffydd outside. As soon as they were out of hearing distance, he rounded on her, just as she had expected.

“Say what he might, Lord Sheridan played us for fools, asking his brother to impersonate him!”

“He did, but I don’t see why you should object. If anyone should be angry, surely it should be me,” she replied, not in the least inclined to sympathize with his recriminations. What did he have to complain about? She was the one who’d paid the price of the brothers’ deception and she was still hot from remembering how Connor had seduced her into agreeing to let him inside her body.

“Why should you complain?” Gruffydd snarled, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

Why? She blinked. Had he really asked her that question? “Because I am the one who married him, who now has to live with him!” she answered, unable to believe she actually had to spell it out. Was the man really so lost to all common decency that he thought she wouldn’t mind being introduced to one man and then told a moment later she was actually to marry another?

Gruffydd shrugged, as if her qualms were worth less than his humiliation. “What’s his game, I wonder, first hiding behind his brother, and now acting as if he’d lived here all along?”

Really, the man was not to be believed. How obtuse could one be? The workings of Connor’s mind were not so difficult to understand, not to her anyway. “He was probably suspicious of the welcome he would get and is now trying to establish his authority before it’s too late, and I cannot say I blame him.”

“Oh?”

She stared at him in disbelief. He really was that obtuse.

“Of course not. Have you considered what he’s doing? His king might have conquered the land and extracted a treaty saying so out of the reluctant lords, but he is not here physically to keep everyone under control, is he? Though he is officially amongst the victors, Lord Sheridan has been sent into hostile land, surrounded by a very small retinue, to try and maintain an enemy’s authority, a difficult challenge at best, an impossible task at worst. I say it takes a great deal of courage to do what he’s doing.”

It could well cost him his life. It would cost him his life if Gruffydd had anything to say about it. The notion sent a shiver down her spine.

“Do you?” Gruffydd’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t liked hearing her take an Englishman’s defense. But for the first time since she’d been told she was to marry an English lord, Esyllt had put herself in Connor’s shoes, and it did not make for a comfortable situation. It was as she’d said. His supposed superiority over them was little protection. It only made the local lords eager to get rid of him.

“Yes, I do. And have you seen the way you talk to him?” she carried on. “It will not be long before he suspects that you wish him ill.”

“If he doesn’t suspect it already, then he really is as foolish and arrogant as the others. I have every reason to wish him ill, and so have you. So stop fawning over him and remember where your duty is.”