His sword. No! She didn’t want William to kill Hereward because of her! “Why, Hereward?” Tanon finally confronted him in a rush of what seemed to her, unending tears. “Why did you allow me to be—”
“For the same reason he allowed it,” the Saxon warrior told her. “For peace. You’ve never lived in the middle of a war, Tanon. Gareth wants it to remain that way. Believe it or not, he’s been striving for this for you since he was ten.”
“Gareth didn’t do this for me!” she argued softly with him, sweeping her fingers across her eyes. “He did it for his people. Just as he married me for them.Oui,Hereward, I know his cause is noble indeed, but where is the honor in breaking someone’s heart?”
He paused and then a faint smile drifted across his face. “Mine has been broken many times. But my love for her always granted her my forgiveness.”
Tears spilled down Tanon’s face hearing of such love—happy that Rebecca finally found it. She thought she’d found it as well. She could forgive Gareth for putting her in danger. She could not forgive him for betraying the thing she had longed for her whole life. He’d lured her out into the open, stripped her of her defenses, and exposed her heart to his thoughtless seduction. But the elusiveWyfyrnhad remained untouched. How could he love her and risk her life? She was cursed to live the same existence Rebecca had suffered for almost twenty years.
A sob drew her shoulders upward before she spoke. “I will never grow accustomed to such an accursed lifestyle, Hereward. I will no longer settle for less than what Gareth is able to give me.”
*
Gareth stepped awayfrom the doorway of the chamber, his heart caught between pounding and stopping. Every muscle in him jolted with the need to go to her, to tell her that he had never loved anyone before her and would never love any woman after her. To plead with her not to go. He would do anything to make her happy.
But she would never grow accustomed to this accursed lifestyle.
She was right, it was cursed.Cymruwas a warring country. It had been so for centuries. Her life would always be difficult here. All he had offered her since he took her from her father was danger. She deserved so much more. And he would see that she got it, even if it meant giving up the peace she brought to his soul.
Clearing his throat, he stepped into his room. He was certain that meeting her gaze would be infinitely more difficult than meeting his greatest enemy on the battlefield.
“Gareth!” Alwyn plunged into the chamber directly after him, one beefy arm slung under Madoc’s shoulder. Tomas supported his wounded brother on the other side.
“The king has dispatched missives to King Gruffudd. Dafydd will be returned to his father alive, although he’ll never again wield a sword.”
“War has been avoided.” Tomas grinned and gave Madoc’s shoulder a hefty pat, earning him a death glare from his brother for his effort.
“How do you fare?” Gareth asked his best friend.
Madoc shrugged slightly, “It’s a flesh wound. I’ll live.”
Tanon watched the men turn to gather Cian under their arms. She sighed softly with relief at the sight of the young poet. She’d been so worried about him. His errand, it seemed, was to ride there to warn the king. The plan had been so carefully executed.
She felt Gareth’s eyes on her like a sorcerer’s spell tempting her to look at him. She resisted, fearing that if she did, she would run straight into his arms. She turned her gaze on King Rhys entering the chambers instead.
Up close, the lines creasing the king’s skin were deeper, the air of authority around him thicker. Like Tanon’s own beloved King William, this man didn’t need the ornately carved golden torc above his snowy brow, or the flaming red mantle draping his shoulders, to proclaim his sovereignty.
Tanon dipped her knees and bowed her head before him.
“Lady Tanon, I remember your mother being a great beauty.” His gravelly voice fell sweetly to her ears. “You share her likeness.”
Another serpent, Tanon thought to herself. King Rhys hadn’t simply taught Gareth to dance, then.
“My mother’s beauty is unmatched, Your Majesty.”
King Rhys smiled at her guileless brow as she straightened. “I understand now why my nephew defied me and wouldn’t let you leave his sight these past several nights. It was the same when he was a boy, and he refused to come home toCymruwithout you.”
Tanon finally slipped her gaze to Gareth. She remembered the boy Gareth promising to save her from Cedric the same way he saved her from Roger deCourtenay, promising her to bring peace toCymrufor her sake. But surely that boy was gone, and a warrior had taken his place. His country’s peace came before her. As it should. But it still hurt. Still…what did the king mean about Gareth not letting her out of his sight these several nights?
“Uncle.” Gareth’s eyes stilled her breath the way they always looked at her. When he spoke, the controlled determination in his voice warred with the anguish in his gaze. “I request you allow my wife be returned to her family in Avarloch. I intend to travel into the north and bleed out the rest of your enemies. If I live, I’ll return for her in a few years.”
Tanon stared at him as if he had just driven his sword through her chest. So, the boy was indeed gone. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he was sending her away. Her use to him was over and he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. She didn’t want to care. She didn’t want to live with him another day without his love. She had told Hereward that she wanted to go home. But hearing Gareth discard her so easily nearly rocked her to her knees. She bit her tongue, fighting not to cry. But she wasn’t prepared for the pain, and her eyes gleamed with tears.
“What of the peace agreement?” the king’s voice echoed in her ears.
“I’ll remain her husband. Our pact with the Normans will stand as long as she’s alive. I wish her to live a long life in England.”
The peace agreement. Her worth was all but a blend of parchment and scribe’s ink.