Welsh Lord's Mistress by Margaret Moore

Author:Margaret Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2009-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Nearly a fortnight later, Trefor came up behind Bron as she stood looking out the window of his bedchamber toward the village that was quickly growing around the castle. Since he’d made peace with his brother and rid his garrison of mercenaries, word was spreading that Trefor ap Gruffydd was likely to be as just and generous a lord as Madoc.

Trefor put his arms around Bron and drew her to him, enfolding her in his bedrobe against his naked body. “What are you thinking about, love of my life?”

“That this may be the last night I’ll spend in your bed with you,” she replied, remembering Trefor on his back, his hair spread upon the pillow as she straddled him, rising and falling in the throes of lovemaking.

Afterward she had brushed a lock of hair from his forehead while he called her his beloved and promised she would always be so. He had kissed and caressed her until they were both aroused and ready to make love again. So they had, starting with tender kisses, then ending with fiery passion.

He nodded toward a building erected beyond the moat and the new outer wall. “Aye, but there is your house, nearly all finished. I’ll always take care of you, Bron, and see that you lack for nothing. And even when the wall’s complete, I’ll be able to see your bedchamber window from here. If you put a candle there, it will be like a star leading me to my beloved.”

If so, was she not stealing something precious from his bride? her conscience chided again. How could Isabelle ever earn her husband’s devotion if he continued to visit his mistress?

Hot tears of shame and remorse and sorrow stung Bron’s eyes, but she blinked them back so Trefor wouldn’t see. She had come back here of her own free will, and of her own free will, she had accepted the price.

Trefor turned her toward him, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t, look up into his eyes.

“I wish that I had been a better, wiser man, Bron,” he said softly. “That I had taken better care of my estate instead of draining the coffers to hire men to fight. Then I would be free to marry you.”

She put her fingertips on his lips to silence him. “I was a servant in your brother’s household, so you couldn’t marry me anyway.”

Trefor looked about to protest when a noise from the gates caught their attention. A wagon with a painted canvas covering pulled by a pair of finely matched horses had entered through the thick wooden gates, with an armed escort in front. A second wagon, likewise heavily laden and covered, and with six more guards, followed.

A lump grew in Bron’s throat, for she knew who this must be.

Trefor cursed softly. “My bride and her father are early. I have to go greet them,” he said as he started to dress.

Of course he must. And she must leave the castle. “I’ll go to the house and wait for you there.

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