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dissolved legally .” Aidan steeled himself to finish what he had to say. “And that means you must return to English soil with me to do it.”
    Shocked silence greeted him. Jesu, but she was angry now—more so than he’d seen her yet this day. Rage fair spilled from her in waves, scorching him with heat.
    “You can go to hell, de Brice,” she finally growled. “I spit on England. The only reason I would go there wouldbe to kill Englishmen.” She cocked her head and impaled him with her gaze. “Like you.”
    “Even if it meant sparing your people the fear of attack for three months?” he countered, undaunted. “Even if it meant food, warmth, and security—a chance for your clan to rebuild its strength to wage war more effectively against its enemies?”
    As he spoke, he gestured behind him to Cedric, who handed him a large sack of coin, which he threw into the clearing. It landed with a heavy, metallic sound, leaving no doubt as to the king’s ransom in gold it contained.
    Marrok’s mouth twisted sardonically, and he stepped closer to Gwynne. “You’re good at throwing money about, de Brice, but it will gain you no more today than it did when you were a lad. You must be daft to think we would let Chwedl return to England with you. ’Tis a trap, clear as day.”
    “There is no trap, I assure you. I promise her safety while she is with me.”
    “Why would you want to aid us, even for a short time?” Gwynne broke in, scoffing. “Our people are enemies, and yet you offer money and a temporary peace—why would you do so if not for the fact that you have greater plans for my destruction while I am in your keeping?”
    Aidan considered how to respond, finally settling on telling what was in most part the truth. “The situation that I mentioned earlier, the one with the English lady, is…imperative. Until this day I did not know that you still lived, but now I cannot go forward with my own plans until what is between us is dissolved. I will do whatever is necessary to clear my way to that end.”
    “You could always just try to kill me. ’Twould rid you of your problem as completely.” She gave him a cold smile. “If you succeeded, that is.”
    He saw her silver eyes spark with heat and realized that she would relish just such an attempt on his part. But he could never do it.
    “Dark Legend or nay, you are still a woman I once knew,” he allowed, leaving out the part about once loving her as well, “and I will not try to kill you. I have principles, and I give you my word that you will be treated well if you come with me. No harm will come to you, I swear it.”
    “Your word means nothing,” Gwynne muttered.
    “It means everything,” he ground out.
    By God, he was rapidly losing patience with her.
    “I vow that you’ll be safe in my keeping for the space of the three months it will take to dissolve our union. At the end of that time I will return you to your people unscathed, and you can then prepare to wage war again if you so choose.”
    He thought she might throw his words back at him as she’d done each time he’d mentioned their betrothal, but suddenly her expression shifted, her eyes narrowing for an instant. Without answering him, she turned to Marrok and murmured something.
    This time it was Marrok’s turn to scowl. He shook his head sharply, muttering something in Welsh that Aidan couldn’t understand. Gwynne argued back, and Aidan knew by the rigid line of her jaw that she meant to have her way. She said something more, and Marrok tensed before nodding once, his hands fisted at his sides.
    Gwynne faced Aidan again, her face still unreadable. “What kind of assurance would I or my people have that you will honor your word, Englishman? For though you claim that it alone is enough, it is not.”
    Aidan paused, biting back a retort at her insult to his honor. He was close to victory, now, he sensed it. Very close.
    “What kind of assurance do you seek?”
    “A trade.” Her jaw tipped