“I am not nervous,” she lied. “And why did you call me caria? That is not my name.”

  He sat next to her on the bed again. “It means ‘love’ in Welsh,” he said. “If you do not like it, I will not call you that. What should I call you?”

  “My friends and family call me Penny,” she said. “I give you permission to call me that if you wish.”

  “You do not like caria?”

  She smiled with some embarrassment. “It is pretty,” she said. “My mother calls me her love all of the time.”

  “I would like to call you mine as well. You are my wife, after all, and I am already fond of you.”

  Penelope looked at him with surprise. “You are?” she asked. “How do you know?”

  He grinned and reached out, putting his big, muscular arms around her and pulling her against him. She was stiff, startled by the move, and he could see the anxiety in her eyes. Without another word, his lips descended gently on hers.

  “I cannot tell you how I know,” he murmured against her lips. “But I can show you.”

  Within the first few heated and tender moments of his kiss, Penelope knew she liked it. Already, she liked it and as his kiss grew in intensity, she liked it even more. Wrapped up in his enormous arms, deep within the folds of the first real embrace she had ever shared with any man, she was coming to see very quickly what all of the fuss was about. She was coming to understand why her mother and father embraced frequently, or why her brother and their wives were so affectionate with one another. There was indeed something to be said for such an exquisitely wonderful moment, something that made her heart light with joy.

  As the fire in the hearth snapped and crackled, Bhrodi continued to kiss his new wife, acquainting her with the feel and taste of him. Penelope didn’t even realize that her arms had found their way around his neck; she clung to him as his mouth left hers, kissing a scorching trail across her jaw and down her neck. The sensations were so new and exciting that all she could do was hold on to him as he took the lead, kissing her in places and ways that she had never been kissed. All of it was so fresh and overwhelming, so much so that Penelope began to audibly gasp.

  As Bhrodi’s mouth moved down her arm and began to suckle on her fingers, she couldn’t grasp a coherent thought. Her body was limp and pliable, so much so that he was able to lay her on her back without any resistance whatsoever. He suckled her fingers, her skin, and as she panted and gasped beneath him, he snaked his hands underneath her silk shift and very quickly pulled it over her head.

  Naked. That thought briefly flashed through Penelope’s mind as she lay nude beneath him but for the hose and ribbons still upon her legs. She had always imagined this moment would come with such embarrassment but Bhrodi’s touch had been so exquisitely distracting that Penelope felt no embarrassment at all. He was warm and big and muscular, and he suckled the fingers of her other hand as he yanked off his tunic and breeches. Penelope could really only see his silhouette with the firelight behind him, but when he lay on top of her once more, their flesh against flesh was a searing experience.

  Bhrodi’s lips were on her neck once more and he stroked her arms, moving out until he reached her wrists. Using both of his hands, he grasped her wrists and brought her arms up above her head. Penelope was so wrapped up in the heated sensations he was creating within her body that she was aware he had bound her wrists to the bed well after the fact. Opening her eyes, she looked up and saw that he had tied her hands together and secured them to the woodened post of the headboard.

  Eyes wide with surprise, perhaps a bit of fear, she looked at him only to see him grinning quite lustily back at her.

  “Do not worry,” he murmured. “You will enjoy this, I promise.”

  “But why did you bind me?”

  Carefully, he pulled her legs apart and settled his big body between them. Then, he lowered himself down onto her torso.

  “So that I could do this,” he whispered.

  His hot, wet mouth came to bear on a tender nipple, suckling firmly, and Penelope let out a groan of both shock and ecstasy. Something was unleashed in Bhrodi now; his movements were firmer, quicker, and his hands fondled her full breasts as he suckled her nipples into taut pellets. When his hands weren’t on her breasts, they were moving over her body, feeling her silken skin and arousing her in the process.

  Overwhelmed, Penelope bucked and groaned beneath him as he worked her breasts, feeding from one to the other. She had such beautiful breasts, and an exquisitely beautiful body, and when his right hand moved to the fluff of dark curls between her legs, some primal impulse in Penelope told her to open her legs wide to him. She did out of sheer instinct and he stroked her gently at first, realizing that she was already quite prepared for his body to enter hers. To make it easier on her, he inserted a finger into her.

  Penelope gasped at the sensual intrusion, drawing her knees up as he thrust first one and then two fingers into her, mimicking the lovemaking they would soon be doing. It was an introduction of sorts, a promise of things to come, and Penelope wasn’t afraid. She liked it very much, her body responding in ways she could have never imagined. When Bhrodi finally withdrew his fingers and placed his big, throbbing manhood at her threshold, Penelope didn’t react other than to open her legs wider. It seemed like the right thing to do and she was no longer afraid of what was to come. So far, she liked it very much. She wanted more.

  Bhrodi gave her more as he thrust into her, seating himself fully upon entry because she was so wet and relaxed. It was as if her body was made for him, accommodating him, and he realized without a doubt that this was the most exquisite coupling he’d ever known. There was something magnetic and beauteous and exciting about Penelope. The past few days had seen such a remarkable change in his outlook on life and in how he viewed her, his new wife. At first, he hadn’t even wanted her but now, she belonged to him completely and he would mark her, a more delicious chore he could not imagine.

  Penelope gasped as Bhrodi thrust into her and for a moment, there was a brief flash of pain as her body became accustomed to the intrusion. But the discomfort was quickly gone as he began to move within her, thrusting steadily in and out of her body as his mouth suckled her breasts and his hands fondled her buttocks. Her entire body was experiencing a delight of sensations as his thrusts began to build a sensitive friction between her legs. She could feel it low in her belly, blossoming, reacting every time he moved within her.

  The harder and faster he thrust, the greater the sensation until it suddenly exploded and ripples of bliss cascaded throughout her body. At the same time, she felt Bhrodi give one final great thrust and he grunted, whispering “caria” upon his groans of pleasure. Her body, reacting to his, exploded again in a lesser burst of bliss, but still one that sent her limbs to quivering. When his grunting subsided, he untied the bindings on her wrists and let her arms fall. Carefully, he gathered her up against him, his lips against her forehead.

  “Are you well?” he whispered. “I did not hurt you, did I?”

  Penelope was fairly certain she had swooned because he had to ask her twice before she was able to give him a coherent reply.

  “I am well,” she murmured.

  “I am glad to know that,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Was I gentle enough?”

  “I believe so.”

  “If I ever do anything that does not bring you pleasure, you will let me know.”

  “I am sure you will know before I even have to tell you. I have a habit of reacting before speaking.”

  “I might find a fist in my nose?”

  “That is possible.”

  He snorted softly. Reaching a long arm to the end of the bed, he pulled up a coverlet that had been carefully folded and tucked it in around them both. He still held Penelope tightly in his arms and was quite sure that he would never let her go. The woman had him completely enchanted and he felt such peace at the moment, more than he had felt in over two years. He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel this way again, but somehow, it was different with her. It was more intense, a deeper edge of peace. That was the best way he could describe it. He didn’t see an English bride; he hadn’t in quite a while. All he saw was a woman who clearly overwhelmed him. As he pondered that thought, someone pounded very loudly on the chamber door.

  “Bhrodi!”

  Startled right off the bed, Bhrodi was up before he could draw another breath, moving for the door.

  “Who comes?” he demanded.

  “Gwyl!” It was Gwyllim, yelling at the top of his lungs. “You must come!”

  Bhrodi’s brow furrowed and he looked at Penelope, puzzled. She had the exact same expression he did; no fear, merely concern.

  “Why?” Bhrodi hollered, hunting for his breeches. “What has happened?”

  “An attack!” Gwyllim cried. “The English are under attack!”

  Bhrodi had never moved so fast in his entire life. Penelope moved faster.

  CHAPTER TEN

  By the time Bhrodi and Penelope entered the great hall, it was utter bedlam. Bhrodi had tried to keep Penelope in the chamber but, being a trained knight, she wouldn’t remain behind, and most especially if her family was threatened. She threw on her shift and ran out before he could stop her, so he followed her out of the keep, watching her run in front of him with her careful hairstyle unraveling.

  By the time they reached the great hall, it was a shocking sight; swords were out, daggers were flashing, and the entire room was in upheaval. There was blood on the floors. Bhrodi turned to Penelope, putting his big hands on her arms in order to prevent her from charging into the room.

  “Do not enter,” he commanded. “I do not want you injured. I want you to return to the keep, do you understand?”

  Penelope was stricken. “But…!”

  He gave her a brief shake, as if to emphasize his point. “Go back to the keep,” he told her. “I will not say this again. Go back.”

  With that, Bhrodi charged in and started yelling, bellowing something in Welsh. Penelope had no idea what he was saying but whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be helping. Men were still fighting with swords, daggers, chairs, and anything else they could get their hands on. As she stood and watched, aghast, an entire bank of tallow candles went flying across the room and crashed into a group of men, spraying hot fat everywhere. Penelope could see her father at the far end of the hall, engaging in a sword fight with a broadsword that was not his own. Since it was a wedding feast, none of the English had been wearing armor or broadswords. They were therefore unarmed as the room was torn apart.

  As much as Penelope wanted to charge in and join the fight, she knew she was in no condition to do so. She was unarmed and it would be a stupid move. Therefore, in complete disobedience of her husband’s wishes, she turned on her heel and ran out into the bailey, heading for the English encampment against the northern wall and noting, as she drew closer, that her father’s foot soldiers were also in some kind of skirmish.

  Something had happened, something serious enough so that the English were engaged on all fronts, and all Penelope could think was that it had been an ambush. The English had been invited to a wedding under the guise of peace when, in fact, the Welsh had been planning to attack them all along. That was her warrior’s instinct talking. Surely there was no other alternative.

  Furious and frightened, she knew she had to make it to the fortified wagon where her possessions were, including her mail and her array of weapons. She didn’t have her broadsword but she had a myriad of other blades. Moreover, her father’s blade was more than likely in his tent, which had been guarded by her father’s personal guard, but there was no one near the tent at the moment and she ran into it, spying her father’s weaponry still in its frame. She rushed forward and grabbed the broadsword, yanking it from the frame as she bolted from the tent.

  The fighting was over near the northern edge of the encampment and her wagon seemed to be in the clear. She ran to it, throwing open the heavy fortified door and climbing inside. When she shut the door, she made sure to bolt it. She didn’t want to fall victim to a Welsh surprise.

  It took her a little more than a minute to throw on a pair of leather breeches, a snug undergarment that helped support her full breasts, and a heavier leather tunic. There was no time to don the heavy and cumbersome mail. The clothing she wore was part of the clothing stash her mother had denied her to wear now that she was married, carefully tucked away in the wagon. There were no available shoes for her but there was plenty of weaponry; opening up a compartment beneath one of the wagon benches, she pulled forth two daggers and a very sharp sword she had used before she had gotten her big broadsword. Collecting the weaponry, she grabbed her father’s broadsword and leapt from the wagon.

  The chaos in the bailey had grown. She ran through groups of men, dodging through them with a big dagger in her hand. One man made a swipe at her and she planted her blade into his hand, listening to him howl. By the time she reached the great hall, there was a fire in one of the corners, creeping up the waddle and daub wall. Penelope looked at it with some horror; she knew that once it reached the thatched roof, it would spread very quickly. Therefore, her mission was to find her parents and get them out of the hall. Dagger in hand, she plunged into the fight.

  Penelope engaged more men than she had expected to as she pushed through the room. One man received a slash to his face while the other received a stab to his arm. She could hear her father bellowing and she found him over near the feasting tables where all of the English had been sitting. Food was on the floor, drinks were spilled, and it was a general mess. William still had the unfamiliar broadsword and she raced in his direction.

  “Papa!” she yelled. “Papa, your sword!”

  William heard Penelope’s voice and, distracted, his gaze searched her out as she pushed through the battle. She was slashing and kicking all the way, a very tough young woman who was unafraid of a fight. He called to Jordan and Jemma, who were underneath the table with Tacey. The pregnant young woman was weeping hysterically as the turmoil went on around her.

  “Penny is here!” he bellowed. “Jordan, go with her! Let her take you out of here!”

  Penelope arrived and leapt onto the table, handing her father his beloved broadsword. Now, fully armed with his familiar weapon, William could do serious damage. He yelled to Paris, who was several feet away and doing battle with the only thing he had on him, a dirk. When Paris took his eyes off his opponent to look at William, the man tossed the confiscated broadsword to him. Now Paris was properly armed and his opponent went down quickly.

  “Penny!” William commanded. “Remove your mother and aunt out of here!”

  Penelope was battling with a soldier who had come at her. She sliced him in the chest with her dagger and kicked him in the face to send him to the ground.

  “I cannot!” she said, kicking another man who came at her. “There are too many of them to fight off between here and the entry!”

  William had to admit she might be correct; there was a sea of battling men and, for the moment, the women were safe underneath the table. But only for the moment; he could see Paris and Kieran fighting for their lives while Scott, Troy, and Patrick were beating down several Welshmen. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the table was compromised as well. His sons Thomas and Edward were also in mortal combat while Kevin and Apollo seemed to have their men under control. At least, that was what William thought until he saw Kevin gored through the torso by a Welshman who came up behind him. As he watched, Kevin fell to his knees and Patrick, close by, rushed to assist him. The situation was going from bad to worse.

  “Where is your husband?” William bellowed.

  Penelope looked around the room but couldn’t see Bhrodi through the chaos. “I do not know!” she called back. “He was here a moment ago!”

  As William and Penelope stood on the table and fought off the onslaught, Paris and Scott leapt onto the table as well. It was high ground and easier to fight from there. Meanwhile, Patrick was dragging Kevin across the floor towards them, fighting off a huge offensive of Welsh until Troy and Thomas and Edward rushed to help him. Penelope hadn’t seen Kevin fall and by the time he was dragged over and shoved under the table where his mother and aunt were hiding, she was horrified. The man had left a trail of blood behind him. Furious, she went mad and began chopping and stabbing at anything that moved. Damn the Welsh!

  William knew they were outnumbered and he, too, believed what his daughter did, that this was an ambush orchestrated by de Shera. He was sickened by it, having led his entire family into a trap. As Troy leapt up beside him to aid his father in fighting away the rabble, Bhrodi suddenly appeared in the hall entry with a gang of men behind him. He was seriously armed for battle and William thought that lives would soon be over. He was sure the man was coming for them. However, Bhrodi did something unexpected; rushing in to the burning room, he and his men began beating down the Welsh contingent.

  William saw what was happening; it was clear that de Shera was trying to protect the English, or at least trying to help them. He and his men were tossing people aside and killing others, and they carved through the chaos of the room as they headed for the English now largely isolated on top of a big feasting table. As Bhrodi drew near, he began waving at them.

  “Come on!” he bellowed. “You must get out of here! The place will burn down around you!”

  William didn’t need to be told twice; he had no choice but to trust de Shera as he leapt off the table and reached underneath to grab his wife, who in turn grabbed Tacey. Paris and Kieran were moving also, dragging Jemma and the wounded Kevin from beneath the table. Between Kieran and Patrick, they managed to carry Kevin out of the hall and, along with the rest of the English, found their way to the keep under Bhrodi’s protection.

  There was a sense of panic as they fled the hall. Bhrodi and his teulu herded the Saesnegs into the massive D-shaped keep of Rhydilian, away from the pandemonium that was growing worse. When the Welsh attempted to follow, Bhrodi’s men beat them back, allowing the English time to escape. The keep loomed ahead through the misty night, promising safety. The English fled up the stairs into the second floor entry and the last people up the stairs were Penelope and her father, followed by Bhrodi and several of his men. As the English rushed into the smaller hall directly across from the entry, Bhrodi slammed the massive entry door and bolted it.

 

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