Page 39 of A Knight for Gwenllian

He shrugged again. “Of course, I would. But ’tis no matter. I can always visit from time to time. And home is where the heart is, that much I know. I doubt Lady Campbell would rather be in Wales, even if it is her home, than here with her husband and bairn.”

Gwenllian stole a glance at Bethan and Cameron, who were riding side by side at the head of the group. Indeed. They looked as if they could have gone to the end of the earth, as long as they went together.

“Yes, you’re right.”

She was lucky she had two places to call home, even if her heart was in Wales. For the first time, she wondered how it would really feel to live in England. Convinced she was destined to remain at Castell Esgyrn, she had never asked herself the question. But perhaps it would not be so bad? Like Alasdair had just said, she could always visit.

“If I may be so bold as to say, my lady,” the Scot started, looking at her only briefly. “I hope… I hope that your knight will not have forgotten you either.”

With those words, he turned his horse to bring up the rear of the retinue where it had been agreed he would ride. Gwenllian didn’t answer.

She was so stunned she wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.

Chapter Thirteen

At last, after almost three weeks of travel, Gwenllian and her friends reached Sheridan Manor. Uncle Matthew and the whole family were in the courtyard admiring a horse they had just purchased when the retinue arrived one windy afternoon.

“Gwenllian!”

Her cousin Iorwerth was the first to spot the riders. He ran to Gwenllian and held her horse while she dismounted. Then he drew her into a warm embrace.

“And Bethan and Cameron as well, with their son,” her aunt, Branwen, added, walking over to the group with a smile. “This is a lovely surprise.”

Bethan slid from the saddle with a sigh. “Yes. We decided to go to Wales to introduce Little Callum to the family, but I will admit, I’m happy to have arrived here where I will be able to enjoy a few days’ rest before carrying on.”

“Aye, mo chridhe, you’ve been very brave.” Cameron sounded concerned as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Perhaps we should have waited another few weeks before setting off.”

“I’ll be fine,” his wife soothed, giving their son a kiss on the head.

Gwenllian smiled inwardly, remembering Lady Isabeau. The Frenchwoman had not been a mother dealing with the demands of a newborn baby, and she had not traveled all the way from Scotland when she had stopped at Audley, eager for a respite. Had she stopped there on the way back as well? Colin had said they were going to a place called Blue Rock Castle in Hugh’s stead. Was it very far? Would Alexander have to deal with his brother and his mistress a second time? She dearly hoped not.

“Well, come, you can join us inside and share our meal,” Uncle Matthew concluded. “We were about to eat.”

After a joyous feast where the Hunters got to know the baby, everyone settled in for the night. Back in her familiar bed, Gwenllian spent a long time staring at the ceiling. She felt different than the last time she had lain in the same bed, and no wonder. She was different, a real woman. A couple of months ago, she had been here, wondering about the adventure awaiting her in Scotland. She had not suspected that she would find it the next day, in the arms of a local knight rescuing her.

Early the next afternoon, in other words, as soon as she could justify leaving Sheridan Manor, she was on the road to Audley, riding one of her uncle’s horses. Her excuse for going there was a good one and didn’t raise any questions. After all, she did have to return the mare Alexander had lent her for her journey to Scotland. Alasdair had insisted on accompanying her. He would lead Buttercup for her, for which she was grateful.

After a quick and uneventful ride, the two of them parted ways outside Audley’s drawbridge. It had been agreed that she would carry on through the gate while he rode on to Redhill Castle, William’s residence, a few miles to the west. Her excursion had also provided him with the perfect excuse to visit his lover without raising suspicion.

“I wish you the best of luck,” she told him warmly. The young man looked both anxious and hopeful at the idea of being reunited with the man who sent his heart to a wild drum, which was exactly how she was feeling herself. What welcome would they get?

“You, too, my lady.”

As soon as the squire had kicked his horse into a canter, Gwenllian crossed the wooden bridge. Absurdly, it felt as if she were coming home. Peter, the groom who had been of assistance with Lady Isabeau back in the spring, was in the bailey, brushing a stunning chestnut horse. He recognized her and walked over to her, a smile on his face.

“How are you doing, old girl?” he asked the animal before going red to the roots of his hair. “Forgive me, my lady, I didn’t mean⁠—”

“No, I know, don’t worry. And Buttercup is very well.” She gave the mare an affectionate caress on the neck. She would miss her. “She was perfect all the way to Scotland and back. The two of us got on well.”

“I’m glad.”

After having dismounted, Gwenllian looked around, doing her best not to appear too eager. “Before I go, I would like to thank Sir Alexander for the loan of the mare and for accompanying me on my journey. Is he in the main hall?”

“I’m afraid he’s not at the castle.” Peter looked sorry to have to tell her that. “He left early this morning, and we’ve been told not to expect him before tomorrow.”

Everything within Gwenllian went limp. Alexander was not here. How had she not thought of that possibility? She had not sent word of her arrival, wanting to surprise him. Well, that plan had failed, spectacularly.

“I see. Well, would you tell him I called?”