Free Defiant Passion (Sons of Rhodri Medieval Romance Series) by Anna Markland Page A

notice, however, the heated glances that passed between Giroux and Morwenna. They had conspired in England to trap the Countess. He’d had his suspicions before but now had serious questions about their relationship.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    Rhodri welcomed Rhonwen every evening. At first they sat and talked as before. Sometimes he ran his fingers through her hair, inhaling its fragrance, feeling the silkiness, telling her how beautiful it was. He gazed at her. He sensed she had resolved to keep a tight rein on her emotions.
    She’s drawn to me but can see no future for us.
    As she became more at ease, he encouraged her to sit on his lap. The soft weight of her body against him was pleasant torture. He loved the feel of her slender form in his arms. As long as they stayed in the chair, he hoped he would have control of his male urges. His steadfast belief this woman was his soul mate strengthened him, and he did not want to hurt her or drive her away. They talked of many things. Rhonwen told him of her love for healing and the things her mother had taught her. Rhodri shared tales of growing up in the royal court at Powwydd.
    One night they were laughing over a story he had told her of a prank he and his brothers had played. Her smile gladdened his heart. It was the first time since their untimely deaths he had been able to speak of his family. He put his fingers on her chin, drew her face to his and kissed her lips. The kiss deepened and she responded, parting her lips as he coaxed with his tongue. She slid her arms around his neck.
    She’s not afraid.
    They explored each other’s mouths, necks, throats and ears. Rhodri was intoxicated by the innocence of her responses and her eagerness to please and explore him. He loved the feel of her small hands on his face.
    He nuzzled her ear and bent his head to kiss her again, but she hesitated. “What of Morwenna? She’s your betrothed. Surely what we’re doing is wrong?”
    He tensed. “I’ll send her back to her father in the spring.”
    “But she risked a great deal for you. She murdered my mother and helped to deliver my mistress to you.”
    “Morwenna didn’t do what she did for me, or for Wales. Murdering your mother wasn’t part of my plans.”
    Rhonwen relaxed back into his arms. She took a deep breath. “Do you believe she’s still a maid? I didn’t believe her to be one when we shared a chamber at Ellesmere, and I have stronger suspicions now.”
    He smirked. “The Norman, you mean?”
    She sat up and he felt her fear. “I saw him coming from her chamber. He knows I saw him. He wishes me dead, and my mistress and her family.”
    “Why would he want you dead? There’s no gain for anyone in that.”
    “He doesn’t care about gain. It’s revenge he seeks.”
    “Revenge for what?”
    Rhonwen told him who her mistress suspected he was, and why he was driven with a thirst for her blood as the daughter of the man who had blinded and mutilated his father. Rhodri did not confirm her suspicions of the man’s name, but resolved to double the watch on the Norman and on his betrothed.
    They sat in silence, listening to the beating of each other’s heart. He wanted to reassure her. He squeezed her knee and turned her face to his. “I’ve given my sworn oath nothing will happen to any of you. I’ll defend you with my life if necessary.”
    ***
    Rhonwen ached with the pain of knowing there was no future for her with Rhodri. She still could scarcely believe his interest in her. But when he touched her hair, all she wanted to do was curl her body into him, rest her head on his chest and bask in the warmth and comfort she experienced in his arms. She loved the soft tickle of his silky black chest hair against her nose. He never wore his braids when they were together, and she longed for the courage to untie the leather thong that kept his hair bound at his nape.
    His first kiss had rocked her to the core. For the first time in her life, she felt like a desirable woman.