He felt her muscles tensing, a clench and then release as he slid his arm across the small of her back, supporting her as her knees spread farther apart, arching her back and gasping. He would have freed himself of his damp clothes and laid her on the cool green grass, would have plunged into her mindlessly, matching her fire with his own. But it was too late now. He could only grip her in an agony of astonished wanting, his tongue thrusting into her mouth to take in all the sweetness it offered, as her pleasure took her.

It was all he could have wanted and more, her hips thrusting her against his hand, her body pressed hard against his as she gasped and moaned until it was done and she hung limp in his arms, a final faint sound of surrender on her lips.

She was more woman in that moment than he had ever imagined she might be. That was the thought he had, even as he heard Madog calling for her in the distance.

CHAPTER 9

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In the ornamental gardens of the English King to whom her own father had sworn allegiance, she stood in a dress she hated. It bit into her shoulders. It tightened like a vice around her arms. There was not a moment she was unaware of how constrained she would be if she held a sword, how helpless she was made by these soft folds of cloth.

Her eyes roamed over the little mounds and hillocks artfully spaced among the trees and pathways. Ladies lounged in silks, their servants all around. A troubadour strolled. Not a troubadour – a Welshmen, she realized. A bard. Now she listened, and heard that he sang the tale of Bran and Branwen, of the starling that a captive Branwen set loose to fly across the sea to her brother. The bird found him, and her brother came and set Branwen free.

It pierced her as sure as any sword could have. Home, home... I do not belong here. She thought of Madog and how even now he would save her from Edward’s court. She had only to ask him. She could walk out of here and find him, and they would flee. They could stay in the Welsh hills with their kinsmen. She thought Madog would hide her even from her mother’s intentions, if ever she asked it.