Border Bride by Deborah Hale

Author:Deborah Hale [Deborah Hale]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Barb, Historical Romance, Love Story, Regency Romance, Romance, Wales, Warrior
ISBN: 9780373292196
Google: ko_KAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0373292198
Barnesnoble: 0373292198
Goodreads: 712000
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-03-14T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Con wanted her son.

Enid had fretted this might happen, but after their talk down by the river, she knew her worst fear had come to pass. A deep, numbing chill settled into her bones. One that neither the hottest fire nor the thickest pile of woollen brychans could warm. It did not help her fitful sleep, that night, to remember it was her own fault.

After all, she had recognized the threat Con posed from the moment she’d spotted him singing and harping in her hall. She had conceived of a plan for getting rid of him, and a good one it had been. If only she’d had sense enough to put it into effect at the first opening Con had presented her. Or the second…or the fifth….

By the time she had frightened him away with talk of marriage, it had been too late. Too late to stop him from blundering into Lord Macsen’s party. Too late to keep him from meeting and recognizing their son.

Once Con had seen the boy, Enid could hardly blame him for being drawn to such a lively, handsome lad. She’d have faulted the man more if he hadn’t. Now, if only Bryn were not so obviously drawn to the fascinating stranger with his winning ways and beguiling stories of dangerous, faraway places.

The first words out of her son’s mouth the next morning made Enid recoil. “Is it true you and Con grew up together, Mam?”

He was hanging about the kitchen with Davy, both of them munching small cakes of oats and dried apples that Gaynor baked for feast days and other special occasions.

It took so much effort to keep her smile from slipping that Enid had no will left over to govern her tongue. She settled for nodding in reply to Bryn’s question.

“Why did you never tell us of Con before?” Bryn pressed her. “Him a Crusader and all, that’s a friendship to boast of.”

“I didn’t know he’d gone to the Holy Land.” Fumbling noisily with her storeroom keys, Enid turned away from her sons, so she could let her face relax from its false expression of good cheer. “I had no notion Con was still alive until he turned up at our gate two weeks past.”

Perhaps her brisk tone warned Bryn that Conwy ap Ifan was not her favorite subject of conversation. Eager to talk about him, nonetheless, the boy turned to his younger brother. “Wasn’t that a brave story Con told last night, about spying in Damascus dressed as a woman?”

His mouth still full of oats and apples, Davy gave an enthusiastic grunt of agreement. Once he’d swallowed, the child added, “Tonight you must ask him to sing ‘Goat White.’ He makes it so comical!”

How could she gainsay the boys their avid interest in Con? Enid asked herself as she checked her household stores and consulted with Gaynor about food preparation for the day. The man charmed most everyone he met—why should her sons be any exception?

Con still charmed her, truth to tell, even when she had reason to fear him, and tried with all her power to hate him.

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