He needed to know in which direction Nesta was headed, and he doubted that Stratford’s men would glean much from their inquiries. The city’s gate guards would feign ignorance, lest they be accused of some negligence.

But they would talk to their own kind, especially if a coin was offered. So would any travelers who had arrived in the city late today who might have passed a retinue of Welsh women on the road.

He needed information fast, and he knew two men who could get it if anyone could. Striding from the house, he headed back to his sister’s garden.

CHAPTER 4

The fire’s warmth enlivened her damp skin. Nesta luxuriated in the sensation as she knelt naked in front of the hearth in the rude cottage near the Welsh border. Sitting back on her heels, she washed with cool water that dripped down her body. The heat licked at each cold rivulet, creating a wonderful streak of contrast before the meandering drop disappeared.

It was done. Genith was away. In a day she would be safely hidden. In a few weeks she would be headed to the marriage awaiting her.

Not a marriage with the King’s man. Not Marcus of Anglesmore. Genith would wed the man their father had chosen, and help to fulfill the dream of Llygad ap Madoc.

She looked to the tiny window, and judged from its light the time that had passed since she handed Genith to her guardians. The swift escape from London had caused them to arrive in this village a day earlier than planned. She had spent many hours watching out that window, waiting for the horses, fearing that the wrong men would ride up first.

It had unfolded as it should, however. Tomorrow she and the servants would take a different route with the wagoner she had hired at the London market, misleading anyone who might search for her little sister.

She stared into the fire, mesmerized by its jumping flames. She imagined her father’s face amidst them, and her chest tightened for that warrior with the heart of a poet. Soon, she whispered to him. The dream would be fulfilled soon. She would see to it. She owed it to him.

She dipped her cloth in the water bowl by her knees. Raising the sodden rag to her shoulder, she squeezed. Water ran down her back and snaked over her hips. Some slithered into the cleft of her bottom tucked above her feet. She moved her hand and squeezed again. Tiny liquid paths played over her breast.