Violet left and Caitlin cozied up in bed, resting against the pillow, turning her eyes to the window where the moon shone through. The nights were cold and lonesome, but soon enough she would be sharing her bed with a man. She had already experienced the warmth that emanated from Rhys’s body and she was now thinking about what it would be like to curl up to him during the night and feel warmed by his flesh. Breath rushed through her lips as she thought of these things, and her mind unfurled as thoughts of being held in his arms whirled around. It was a whole new world that she had only dipped her toe into, and although she was nervous, she was also eager to explore it in greater depth.
She managed to fall asleep in good time, thinking about the future and her life with Rhys. There would be peace. Finally, after all this time, there would be peace among the clans. She was glad to have such a pivotal role in maintaining it. Yes, leaving would be difficult, but the kiss she had shared with Rhys told her that he would take care of her. She had gleaned a lot from that kiss—more than she had from speaking with him, in fact—and she knew that she could trust him with her feelings. There was a certain vulnerability to him that contradicted his brutish appearance as though he was troubled by things that he couldn’t strike with a sword. She saw it in his eyes and she longed to get even deeper into his mind, to dive into his soul so that she could explore the mysteries of the man.
Yes, there was a long life ahead of her. Even though she had already spent eighteen years in this world, it felt as though her life was just beginning. She wondered how she would think when she was her mother’s age, looking back at this time. She might well be giving advice to her own child.
10
Rhys had been in anguish all day. The conversation with his brothers had not helped, and he had purposefully avoided his father. He had wandered the area around the keep, taking a stroll by himself to explore the landscape that Caitlin had described with so much poetry and passion the previous night. The beauty did not help soothe the turmoil in his mind. Even though he was excited to marry Caitlin, his chest tightened and he wished he could slow the pace of time to give himself a better chance of deciding what to do about the situation. There seemed no way to stop his father’s plan from being carried out. Even if he stood against Malcolm there wouldn’t be any hope, for he would just be one man, and what difference could one man make? The only thing he could do is reveal the truth to either Bryn or Caitlin and betray his father, but such a thing made a wave of nausea curdle in the pit of his stomach.
The day passed and night drew in. Most of the people in the keep were asleep. Fires blazed in the camp outside, where his brothers were drinking and playing games, acting as though they didn’t have a care in the world. Rhys watched servants go about their business and his heart sank, for he knew that they only had a limited amount of time left. Their lives were hanging in the balance and each of them was unaware. Rhys was overwhelmed with the urge to take them by the shoulders and shake some sense into them, to tell them to run far away and escape this forsaken place, for soon the walls would be stained with blood and there would be nothing left in this keep but the lingering stench of death.
Before he retired for the night Bryn caught him and pulled him into a small room, wanting to share some mead with him. Rhys did not decline the offer. He towered above Bryn, and yet Bryn’s strength and confidence were not drawn from the size of his muscles or his stature. His mind was one of the sharpest around; that’s what had driven Malcolm crazy. The fact that Bryn had gone toe to toe with Malcolm and survived was impressive, but he didn’t seem to understand that Malcolm was planning a grim betrayal. Rhys silently urged him to think about the future and to be wary of his mortal enemy, but Bryn’s intentions were pure. He believed in peace, so he was ignoring the dark shadows of doubt that swirled around his mind.
The mead was sweet and the bottle was deep. His goblet was refilled as soon as he had drained the liquid out of it.
“I heard what ye did with the lads. I’m glad ye spent some time with them. Ye made a good impression,” Bryn said.
Rhys smiled. “I’m glad. They’re good lads, fine with a sword, although that Mark has something of a temper on him. It could serve him well if he learns tae use his anger, but if he dinnae it could get him into a wee bit of trouble.”
“Aye,” Bryn said, nodding. “I’ve tried tae tell him again and again but he dinnae listen. Although I think being put on his rump by ye taeday will make him think twice. Bryn pursed his lips and sighed heavily. “But I’m glad that I dinnae hae tae train him for war. When I watched the boys grow up I was worried that one day I was gaeing tae hae tae lead them intae battle, and perhaps watch them die.” He shook his
