Heart Of The Dragon. Sharon Schulze
dirk in his hand. “No doubt,” he agreed. “Mistakes happen.”
Llywelyn moved closer. His gaze swept over her, taking her measure, then staring into her eyes. She couldn’t tell if she passed muster, or if he found her lacking. But she refused to back down or look away first. It was a relief when he ceased his scrutiny and returned his attention to the Dragon.
“Trust you to find her before any knew she was missing, Ian. I’ve always known I could count on you for anything,” Llywelyn said. He motioned to one of his men. “Take this woman to her quarters. ‘Tis too late to discuss anything of importance now.” When the Dragon stepped forward, he added, “She’ll be perfectly safe, Ian. You’ve done your duty. ‘Tis no longer your concern. I’ve other work for you.”
Lily placed her hand on the Dragon’s arm and looked earnestly at Llywelyn. She couldn’t understand why he refused to meet her gaze. “Milord, I don’t wish—”
At Llywelyn’s nod, the guard took her by the elbow, tugging her away from her protector and out of the room. Ian turned to watch as they led her away, his expression unreadable.
Outwardly calm, Ian watched the two men lead Lily away. But inside he seethed with fury, a fury he did not intend to show Llywelyn.
He needed to tread warily. By looking for Lily after Llywelyn told him she’d left, he’d already committed a grave error. He didn’t wish to compound his mistake now.
The results were too important.
Llywelyn had made a mistake, as well, and Ian had caught him out.
Llywelyn knew something about her, something he wanted to keep hidden.
The trick would be to discover that secret—and soon.
With a nod toward the door, the prince ordered the other men from the room. Ian closed the door and leaned against it, waiting for the ax to fall.
He didn’t have long to wait.
Llywelyn stood tall, an imposing figure, though he didn’t intimidate Ian. He’d committed too many sins in Llywelyn’s name—the other man owed him too much. But Ian wasn’t a fool. He knew how easily a powerful man’s favor could turn to vengeance.
“What were you about, Ian? Do you doubt my word now, that you must go behind my back and foul my plans? If I thought you needed to know where the girl was, I would have told you.”
Thus he gave himself away. Ian hid his satisfaction, and sought the words to free himself from this coil. “I understand that, milord. And I didn’t doubt you. But I hear things from many sources. Word reached me that led me to believe you’d been given false information. I merely wished to verify what I’d heard. There’s no harm done. She’s back in your possession, to do with as you will.”
For the moment, Ian added to himself.
Llywelyn eyed him assessingly. He evidently passed muster. Ian saw nothing but approval in the other man’s expression. “Very well. ’Tis forgotten. Besides, I have need of your expertise in the trouble with my nephew Rhys. He’s begun making noise about reclaiming his lands. I want you to find him, make him understand my position before he goes too far. I’d rather not be forced to harm my own kin,” he added, his gaze steady. “Leave as soon as you can, and take as long as you need to make him see reason. We’ll manage fine until you return.” He nodded and headed for the door.
“As you wish, milord,” Ian said, opening the door and bowing as Llywelyn walked past.
His movements slow, he pushed the door closed, then turned the key in the lock. He stared at the worthless piece of metal, then heaved it across the room.
Damnation! It didn’t do much good to lock the door when someone else had a key.
He couldn’t have done worse tonight if he tried. Now Llywelyn had taken Lily away. If Llywelyn tried to hide her again, Ian could be certain he wouldn’t find her this time, unless Llywelyn allowed him to. And that wasn’t likely to happen.
By the time he returned from placating Rhys, she’d be so well hidden, he’d never find her. Assuming, of course, that they let her live. Considering where he’d found her, that was not a certainty.
Weary beyond belief, he removed his sword and dagger and placed them within easy reach before he stripped off his clothes and fell into bed. He didn’t even bother to douse the light, hoping the brightness burning through his eyelids would show him whatever clue he kept missing.
Letting his mind drift, it filled immediately with images of Lily. He would never forget the expression of joy on her face when he’d opened the door to her cell. Again that jolt of familiarity assailed him, the sense that the knowledge he sought hovered just beyond his reach.
Her smile lingered, and he focused on it, the way her green eyes glowed, the slight tilt of her lips at one corner…
He sat bolt upright. He knew that smile, had seen it a thousand times before. When he added the green eyes and coppery hair—similar, but not quite the same—he truly thought he’d gone mad.
What he had in mind was impossible. There was no way that Lily could be related to Gillian de l’Eau Clair FitzClifford, marcher baroness.
His cousin.
The soldiers hustled Lily across the bailey and into the keep itself. She followed where they led; ‘twas the least she could do, since this time they hadn’t bound or gagged her. She scarcely had the energy to walk, let alone try to escape. Besides, running would avail her nothing, for she had nowhere left to go.
She returned the stares of the revelers they met on the stairway. Never had she seen such fine clothes, nor so many people the worse for drink. Several women, their bliauts laced so tight she could have seen a flea bound beneath them, smiled invitingly at the guards and frowned at her.
It was a relief when they stopped outside a chamber at the top of the stairs. She almost didn’t care where they put her, so long as it was bright and warm. And if they brought her food, as well, she’d think she’d gone to heaven.
They unlocked the door and motioned for her to enter. A maid followed her in and placed a tray on a stool next to the straw pallet. A chamber pot in the corner completed the furnishings.
The maid and one of the guards left. The other guard kindled a lamp hanging next to the door. “Stay quiet and give us no trouble,” he said gruffly before pulling the door closed.
She heard the key turn in the lock with a curious sense of pleasure. This, her third prison of the day, was certainly the best appointed. It met her simple requirements amply.
She’d already noticed that there was no window in this door, so she availed herself of the facilities with a sigh of relief. There was even a ewer of water, she scrubbed off as much of the past few days’ filth as she could before investigating the contents of the tray.
‘Twas simple fare, coarse bread and hard cheese, with a mug of warm ale. To Lily it seemed manna from heaven. She savored every bite, setting aside half, lest they bring her nothing on the morrow. Besides, after the scanty meals she’d had the past few weeks, her stomach could bear no more.
More comfortable than she’d been since her mother’s death, she settled on the pallet to mull over everything that had happened. She’d believed that coming to Dolwyddelan would give her answers; instead, she had more questions than before. But she couldn’t regret that she’d come here, despite her sojourn in the bowels of the castle.
She couldn’t regret meeting the Dragon.
Absently working her fingers through her tangled hair, she tried to think, but her brain reeled with exhaustion and confusion, not to mention the lump still swelling on the side of her head.
She needed sleep to clear her mind. Only then could she make sense of everything.
But she’d no sooner closed her eyes than she heard the rattle of a key in the door.
Sweet