Bound to Her Blood Enemy Read online

  “But… Wait. When you see him again? Then you’re going to try to help him?” Several emotions hit her at once. Relief. Anger. Hope. Fear.

  Owain gave a bark of a laugh. “I have every confidence that he’s in no need of our help. However, we’ll waste no time. We leave for Coed Bedwen in the morning.” Owain looked at her over the rim of his cup, his face softening. “You look tired. Go and get some rest.”

  He stood, signaling the end of the audience.

  Tired as she was, Matilda’s brain was racing too much for sleep. She tossed and turned until her blankets were as tangled as her thoughts. Huw’s hatred of her…the blood feud…just remembering his cold eyes made her shiver. She had believed him without question. Yet the doubt Owain had planted in her mind refused to be silenced.

  Huw had many opportunities to harm or kill her in the time since they had met. If the blood oath was all that drove him, he could have killed her the night they escaped from Redcliff. Now she wasn’t fleeing or in fear of pursuit, she was able to take a calmer view on what had happened. Over their days together, she had come to trust him. Depend on him. Love him. Which Huw was more likely to be the true one? The careless one who had blundered into the grasp of Fitzjohn’s men, or the one who had shown her over and again that he would protect her?

  Protect her. Realization punched her in the gut, jolting her off the pillows with a gasp. She stared, wide-eyed, across the darkened chamber, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. It was so obvious, she couldn’t think why she hadn’t known it from the start. Huw had allowed himself to be captured, goaded Fitzjohn into a fight, all because he was protecting her. He had created a diversion to allow her to escape. And she had been too blinded by fear to see it.

  She lowered her head to her knees with a moan. Until now she hadn’t considered what Huw might be going through at Fitzjohn’s hands, but now images of torture, of beatings, haunted her.

  Then she saw him the first time they had met, the moment she had unmasked him.

  “Don’t give me away… Sir Reginald would see me hanged.”

  Hanging. That’s what they did to spies. And Fitzjohn was doubly likely to carry out a death penalty, considering he wanted Matilda for himself. Maybe at this very moment, his men were erecting a scaffold in the bailey.

  And it was all her fault. Huw wouldn’t be in Fitzjohn’s hands if she had just looked outside before blundering out of the keep.

  How could she ever have doubted him? She curled onto her side and hugged the blankets to her chest. Owain, Alys, even Godric had seen Huw’s care for her. Only she had been too blinded by her cursed lack of trust to see it.

  I’ll always be there for you. That’s what he’d said to her only last night. And now because of her foolishness, she might never see him again.

  I’ll always be there for you… The words seeped into her dreams as exhaustion finally won and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

  She was back in Coed Bedwen. It was a hot summer’s day, and she was chasing butterflies through the bailey, stretching her arms as far as they would go, wishing she was taller. A Robert-the-devil fluttered past, and she chased it, giggling as she swerved around people who called after her to take care. The speckled brown butterfly was caught by a breeze as it reached the hall and tugged around the corner. She followed, only to run smack into a man coming the other way. She craned her neck and saw her father looking down at her, his face drawn and haggard.

  “Be careful, Matilda. Mind where you’re going.” His breath smelled of honey and spiced wine.

  “I’m sorry, Papa.” She reached up to take his hand. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Oh, no. It would take more than a little butterfly like you to hurt me.”

  “But you don’t look very well. Are you ill?” This wasn’t the first time she had asked him this. It was a fear that had weighed her down ever since her mother’s death. “Are you going to get ill like Mama?”

  Her father made a choking noise, and he put his hand to his eyes briefly, then he ruffled her hair and gave her the same answer he always did. “Of course not, Matilda; don’t worry about me. I’ll always be there for you.”

  Matilda jerked awake, feeling sick. She curled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. No matter how she tried to push the memory away, it wouldn’t go. Everything was so vivid. The butterfly, the mingled scents of honey, spices, and wine. Her father’s strained smile as he had ruffled her hair.

  I’ll always be there for you.

  Empty words.

  Only an hour or so later, he had taken his own life, leaving her alone and heartbroken. As a result of that day, she had erected a shield around her heart, never allowing herself to depend on a man again.

  And yet Huw had broken through that barrier. She had overcome her deep mistrust and learned to depend on him. Love him.

  Yet now it looked like her heart was going to be torn from her all over again.

  Knowing that sleep would elude her for the rest of the night, she crawled out of bed and knelt upon the rushes.

  “Blessed mother Mary, help Huw…help me,” she whispered, her hands clasped in front of her. “It’s happening again, and I don’t think I can bear it.”

  ****

  When the first glimmer of dawn peeked through gaps in the shutters, she forced her stiff limbs to move. She rose and summoned a maid to help her dress, then fretted while the girl chattered on, admiring her green riding gown with its crimson embroidery at the neck and sleeves. She didn’t care how she looked. All she wanted was to get back to Coed Bedwen as soon as possible, learn what had happened to Huw. The moment the maid had fixed the embroidered band that held her veil in place, she dashed out to find Owain’s men mustering in the courtyard.

  When Owain saw her, he walked over, frowning. “There was no need for you to see us off,” he said. “You must be exhausted after your long ride yesterday.”

  Matilda couldn’t get his words to sink in. “See you off?” she said. “But I’m coming with you!”

  “Nonsense! I sent messengers to your uncle last night. He’s riding to meet us today, and your aunt will come here. She’ll await the news with you. This is man’s business.”

  In other words, she’d served her purpose and was no longer needed. King or no king, she would not allow Owain to cast her off until he found use for her again.

  “Coed Bedwen is my business, my lord. You made it so when you decided I was to be the figurehead for the uprising. What kind of figurehead would I be if I remained miles away in comfort, while others fought for my inheritance?”

  Owain’s brows shot up. “I won’t have you near the fighting. You’d be a danger to yourself and those forced to protect you.”

  “Of course not. But the tavern in the village has become a gathering place for the uprising. I should be there.” It would also be close to Huw, wherever he was. If he was still alive.

  Pain tore through her chest, and she thrust the thought aside. She had to believe he was well. She didn’t know if she could keep her sanity if harm had come to him because of her carelessness.

  “Your uncle won’t be pleased,” Owain said.

  She raised her chin. “It’s not my uncle’s concern. I’m married to Huw now, and in his absence, I make the decisions on how I manage my life.”

  Owain’s lips twitched. “In that case, I wouldn’t dare prevent you from coming.” He ordered a servant to fetch another horse and muttered something under his breath. It sounded like: “Huw doesn’t stand a chance.”

  It rankled that her desire to grasp what little control was possible in this world of men could be seen as a joke. However, she held her tongue and allowed Owain to help her into the saddle.

  After a brisk ride, they met Gruffyth at the same place he had separated from her and Huw before. He hastened to her side.

  “Are you well?” he asked. “I’ve been so worried.”

  She nodded. “I’m quite well, Uncle.” Unless you counted the pain in her heart.

  “I
wish I could have persuaded you to stay with me instead of dashing off on this mad escapade. I hope it wasn’t too hard for you.”

  “Actually,” she spoke as it occurred to her, “it was fun in a way.”

  “Fun?”

  “Maybe ‘fun’ isn’t the right word. I admit I was frightened much of the time, but after being caged up in Redcliff with little choice on how I spent my time, it was good to feel useful.” Although she would never launder so much as a kerchief ever again.

  She didn’t say any more for a while but reflected on her time in Coed Bedwen. She had discovered the joy of being active, of making decisions more important than what gown to wear that day. Yes. Being mistress of Coed Bedwen would be fulfilling. If only…

  If only there was some way to shield her heart from the pain of either loving or losing Huw.

  A commotion at the front of the party roused her from her musings.

  “Riders approach!” someone shouted.

  The men drew their swords and forced Matilda into the center of the group. Surrounded by horses and their armed riders, she was unable to see who was coming. The group advanced, and she followed blindly, her eyes fixed on the back of the man ahead of her. Then she heard an exclamation. The group halted, and there came the sound of low voices speaking rapidly. What was happening? Was it messengers from Coed Bedwen? Her mouth went dry. Maybe they brought news of Huw. Just when her curiosity reached an unbearable height, the men in front of her moved aside.

  She found herself face to face with a man mounted on a sway-backed nag, his hands resting awkwardly on the pommel of his saddle. His face was bruised, and his lips were swollen and had obviously been bleeding.

  “Well met, Mallt. I’m glad to see you’re safe.”

  Just for an instant, her complex, conflicted emotions resolved themselves into simple relief.

  “Huw!” she cried. She swung down from the saddle and dashed toward him, then stopped when she took in the rest of the scene. The reason his hands were on the pommel was because they were tied. His horse was haltered, and the lead rope tied to another equally rough workhorse, ridden by a burly man who looked familiar. Next to him was Alys. On seeing her, Matilda recognized the other man as a frequent visitor to the Boar’s Head.

  “Alys, what are you doing here?”

  “We caught this one”—Alys jerked her chin toward Huw—“breaking into my stable. We tied him up as you ordered and thought it best to bring him to you.”

  Her heart thumped so hard it was difficult to think. She turned to Huw, drinking in the face she’d feared lost to her forever.

  “You’re alive.” They were the only words she could force past the lump in her throat.

  Huw’s bruised lips curved into a smile. “Mallt.” He sounded like a parched man on seeing water for the first time in days. “You’re safe.”

  In that moment the last of her doubt fell away. Huw had said what he had to protect her. Had suffered for her sake.

  “Thanks to you.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. She reached toward him but couldn’t bring herself to touch him. She didn’t want to cause him more pain. “I’m so sorry, Huw. This is all my fault.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Mallt. Your capture was just foul luck. You’re not responsible for what happened to me. Besides, what kind of man would I be if I couldn’t protect my own wife? But…” He made a move as though to take her hand, cursed when his bindings pulled taut. “What I said… I’m sorry. You have to believe me—”

  She shook her head and placed her hands over his. “Don’t be sorry. I understand. You were protecting me.”

  “None of it’s true. You have to believe me.”

  “None of it?” Her voice came out sharper than intended.

  A shadow passed over Huw’s face. “You’re talking about the blood oath.”

  She nodded.

  He leaned forward, his voice urgent. “Matilda, you have to believe me. The oath means nothing to me now. Your safety is all that concerns me.”

  There was no lie in his eyes. He meant what he said. She should feel relieved. Instead the knot of anxiety tightened in her chest.

  She opened her mouth, but her uncle cleared his throat, bringing back her awareness of their audience.

  She gave Huw a tight smile. “We’ll talk about this later.” Then, turning to the man guarding Huw, she said, “Untie him.”

  Alys stepped forward. “But you said—”

  “Untie him. He won’t harm me.”

  With an apologetic glance at Alys, the burly man dismounted and made a move toward Huw’s bindings, but with a twist of the hands, Huw flung off the cord himself. All the while his eyes remained fixed on hers.

  Huw gave a crooked smile that Matilda felt in the pit of her belly. “I wanted them to feel safe.”

  Her fragile hold on her emotions snapped. How dare he look so pleased with himself when she had suffered agonies over him all night? “This might have been a game to you, Huw, but I thought you were going to die. I thought—”

  Her voice cracked, and tears pricked at her eyelids. She had to get away from him, or she would lose all control. She couldn’t afford to give any reason for the king to have her escorted back to the llys, and he might well do that if he thought she was becoming hysterical.

  She turned her back on Huw and stumbled back to her horse. When she had rebuilt the barrier around her heart, then she would talk to him.

  When she was strong enough to resist the urge to fling herself into his arms.

  She gripped the saddle, only to find that without a mounting block, she was unable to pull herself up into the saddle.

  Strong hands seized her around the waist and lifted her. Even before she looked, she knew it was Huw and longed to lean into him, take comfort from his strength. The hands lingered, brushing the underside of her breasts. Heat flooded through her. How she yearned for him.

  And that was precisely why she needed to protect herself. Love meant pain. That must be the reason for last night’s dream—to remind her to guard her heart. Knowing Huw was safe, she must ensure she never again suffered the same pain she suffered upon her father’s death.

  Or repeated the agony of last night, when she feared Huw was dead.

  She gathered the reins and gave him a cool nod. “I can manage from here.”

  Huw opened his mouth, but Owain snapped out an order to move on. With one last glance at her, Huw returned to his mount.

  It took all of Matilda’s strength not to call him back, but she must avoid him until she could be certain she had control of her emotions. However, when the party set off again, whether by accident or design, she found him by her side.

  “Are you sure you’re quite well, Mallt? Did you reach Owain with no incident?”

  “I’m perfectly well.” She should ask about his injuries, but the thought of what he had endured for her sake made her throat squeeze shut.

  “I know you must be angry with me. I never intended for you to find out about the blood oath that way.”

  She drew a shuddering breath. Yes, anger. She could use that to drown out this other, more terrifying emotion. Gripping her reins so tightly her nails cut crescent moon grooves into her palms, she said, “And what would have been a good way to tell me you’d vowed to claim a debt with my blood?”

  “It was never about you. My vow was against the Comyns, and I absolved you of all responsibility almost from the start.”

  Matilda frowned. “Almost from the start? Then you admit you did plan to harm me at first?”

  Huw bowed his head. “Before I met you, the oath was my only purpose in life. When Owain sent me to fetch you, when you were just a faceless Comyn, yes, I’ll admit I thought it was my opportunity at last to avenge my family. But the moment I first saw you, my heart cried out for you, even though I tried to ignore it. I could never do anything to hurt you. I’d sooner gouge out my eyes than harm a hair on your head. I’d have realized that from the start if I’d listened to my heart. I could never
harm you—the woman I’ll love with all my heart until my dying day.”

  It was too much. His impassioned declaration threatened to shatter what little self-control she had mustered. She had to end this. Now.

  She held up her hand, shocked to see it trembling. “Stop, please. I…I do believe you. I know you could never hurt me. But I…”

  Huw scowled. “But what, Matilda? What else could possibly keep us apart?” He gave a bitter laugh. “Or is it just my misfortune to love a woman who has never known a decent man until now? The men in your life have damaged you, but not all men are like that. We’re not all like Fitzjohn or your father. Although what he—”

  “Stop!” Her heart hammered her ribs like a battering ram. Giddy nausea overtook her. She clung to the pommel of her saddle to steady herself. She could not…would not revisit that memory. She wished she hadn’t told Huw what she had about him, because she wanted to lock the door on the desolate girl she had been and forget the pain of a broken heart.

  The curious glances from the other riders gave her the excuse she needed. “I know we need to talk,” she said in a calmer voice, “but this is neither the time nor the place.”

  “Very well,” said Huw. “But this isn’t over. I haven’t given up on you, Mallt.” He swept her with his gaze, sending sparks up and down her body, as though it were his fingers that caressed her.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. She couldn’t keep her composure in his presence, so she urged her horse into a canter and drew alongside her uncle. Even so, she felt Huw’s gaze burning her back for the rest of the ride.

  The sun was low on the horizon when Owain called a halt beside a farmhouse at the foot of a hill. “We’re as close as we can get without drawing attention to ourselves,” he said. “Huw and Matilda, you go on to the Boar’s Head with your companions and contact the villagers. I’ll send a messenger when it’s time to move on the castle.”

  Thankfully it wasn’t a long ride to the village, and Matilda managed to keep Alys between her and Huw. By the time they had settled the horses and gathered the fighting men in the tavern, night had fallen. Looking around, Matilda thought all the men of the village, bar the very old or sick, must be gathered here. Alys had clearly been right about the level of hatred Fitzjohn had inspired. Once Huw had explained the battle plan, everyone settled around the fire in the dim, smoky room to pass the time until Owain’s signal came. Some of the men started to sing.