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is on the move. He knows
that Gruffydd ap Rhys has returned from Ireland with your support,
and that you have plans to give Senghenydd to him, along with
Castell Morgraig. Clare has begun work on a new castle at
Caerphilly.”
    “Damn the man!” Llywelyn said. “That is my
land. He knows this will bring me out. Doesn’t he care?”
    “Perhaps that’s his plan. Perhaps he intends
to thwart you with open battle or with treachery.”
    Llywelyn eyed his brother. “Thank you,
Dafydd, for your news. I submit it could have waited until I was
awake.”
    “Yes, brother,” he said, “but then I
wouldn’t have had the chance to glimpse your lovely new lady.” His
eyes met mine through the gap in the curtain and he smirked.
    “She’s mine, Dafydd. Do not forget it.”
    “Yes, brother.” Dafydd stepped back.
Llywelyn shot a glance at me and then followed Dafydd into the
hall, pulling the door closed behind him.
    I lay there, feeling alternately horrified,
sick, extremely vulnerable, and then angry. Why was this happening
to me? Who were these lunatics and what were they going to do
next?
    The door opened and Llywelyn stalked back
into the room, headed towards me. He jerked open the curtain and
leaned forward, his fists resting on the bed on either side of my
hips, his face only inches from mine, just as we’d been the night
before. This time, while he looked just as fierce, his eyes had a
glint of something else—amusement again perhaps, or mischief.
    “I must meet with my counselors,” he said.
“A maid will come with clothes for you and Anna. I journey south
within the next two days. You must prepare, for I intend to take
you with me.”
    “South?” I asked, feeling stupid again.
“Where?”
    Llywelyn didn’t answer. Instead, he threaded
his fingers through the hair at the back of my head, lifted me up
and kissed me, hard, before letting me fall back onto the bed.
“Remember what I told my brother.”
    Speechless again, all I could do was watch
him go.
     
     

Chapter Four
Llywelyn
     
    I was in high good
humor as I strode out of the bedroom. Still, I didn’t want to risk
my luck with a backwards glance, knowing I might find Marged
glaring after me, affronted at my impudence.
    Ha! The look on Marged’s face when I
kissed her was priceless and I found myself grinning at the
intelligence and fire in her. Then my smile faded as I remembered
last night’s incident with the knife, and the fear plainly revealed
on her face, that had driven her to attack me. She’d tried to flee,
afraid I would hurt her. I’d told her who I was, and yet, my
identity had meant little to her. What was behind that? I didn’t
know; didn’t know enough of her to even ask the right
questions.
    And then a worse thought: had she bewitched
me? Was she from the devil? With the same instinct that had
prompted me to keep her in my rooms, I dismissed the notion. The
priests could spend their time questioning the nature of women.
Females were different from men, clearly put here for a different
purpose, but I had no interest in speculating beyond that.
    I fixed my thoughts on my more immediate
problems, not the least of which was the very existence of my
brother, Dafydd. Welsh royal brothers, my own father and uncle
included, had a long history of enmity, backstabbing, and
bitterness. Harmonious relations among brothers in my family were
the exception, not the rule, and it was unlikely, given our past
history and present course, that Dafydd and I would prove
different.
    “My lord!” Tudur stopped me as I entered the
great hall. He was hurrying, pulling on his cloak as intercepted
me. “Your brother. . .”
    “He came to my room, Tudur. I’ve already
seen him.”
    “I apologize, my lord, for allowing him to
wake you.”
    “It is forgotten, Tudur. He can be very
persistent.”
    Tudur bowed his head. “Yes, my lord.”
    I strode to the dais where Dafydd now sat,
along with my friend, Goronwy, and Geraint, Tudur’s father. He’d
aged