In Debt To The Enemy Lord. Nicole Locke

and challenged him. Her trembling took whatever control he had over his lust and mingled it with his need to protect. He could not leave the room fast enough, but it hadn’t helped the ache in his loins.

      ‘That may explain your tenseness,’ Rhain said. ‘I find it curious she makes you prickly.’

      ‘I do not get prickly.’ Teague shifted in his seat. ‘I do not know who she is and am wary.’

      ‘The Devil of Gwalchdu is wary of a slip of a girl. Well, this place is certainly not dull. I will sit with you and await her arrival.’

      * * *

      Keeping close to the wall, Anwen carefully made her way down the stairs. At least her pace and the view from the stairs allowed her to take in the emptiness of the castle.

      Gwalchdu’s Great Hall’s opulence, though it was expected, overwhelmed her. To be sure, she knew Edward and the Welsh Prince, Llewellyn, had visited Gwalchdu, but this Hall even outdid royalty’s comfort.

      Several large hunting tapestries covered the walls. Where there were no tapestries, thick opulent red-and-green-coloured linens hung and shimmered against the light. Standing candelabras and large sconces provided flickering light. Two fireplaces, of different sizes and opposite each other, brought warmth and ornamentation to the hall. In the middle, three long trestles were flanked by equally long benches. These trestles were intersected by another, which should have been placed on a dais to separate the lord from his soldiers, but it wasn’t. It was level, indicating equality between the lord and his men. The sole indication of privilege at the high table was the ornate cushioned chairs and the huge fireplace behind the table. Both were used to provide the lord the greater heat and comfort.

      At the other end of the hall was a smaller fireplace, and two large padded chairs occupied by men whose hair reflected dark and light in the firelight. Anwen strode forward.

      Teague heard her first and stood, and Rhain rose after him. The setting sun filtering through the windows was weak, but the lights from the fires shone through her damp unbound tresses that curled like a halo of gold. As she walked, the white of her gown flowed angel-like around her small frame.

      ‘My God.’

      ‘What say you?’ Teague’s eyes did not leave Anwen.

      ‘I thought you mad for bringing her here.’ Rhain spoke low, his eyes riveted on the vision walking towards them. ‘But now that I see her like this, as you must have seen her at first, I believe you the sanest man alive.’

      With shuttered eyes, Anwen paused before them. She was still unwell. Her hands trembled and the pallor of her skin shone with exertion just from the small walk.

      She had wide blue eyes, with eyelashes so pale they should have been unnoticeable, but instead, the golden colour made her eyes shine. Shine? He quickly rejected the frivolous thought.

      ‘You came,’ he said, his voice gruff.

      ‘As you commanded,’ she answered.

      Teague looked much changed from when she had seen him earlier. Freshly washed, his hair was wet, and he was finely clothed in a dark blue tunic. The aesthetic affect was almost as unnerving as him standing bare-chested before her. Damp, his hair waved thickly and the tunic fitted his shoulders and skimmed over his chest and abdomen. He was covered, but it did little to hide what was beneath.

      ‘Do you always follow commands?’ he asked.

      ‘If they are not unfair.’ Anwen would not curb her tongue.

      Rhain coughed. ‘It is good you have fared well.’

      Anwen assessed the two men in front of her. From their colourings to their personalities, the contrast between them was stark. Both men were tall and their muscles were outlined even in their clothing, but there the similarities ended. Teague was dark from his hair to his eyes to his countenance. He looked every bit the devil, hewn from far below the earth’s surface. Rhain, his golden handsomeness elegantly garbed in rich red fabrics, was powerfully built, but he was leaner and more graceful looking. He looked hewn from the sun’s light, as if God himself had created a man-angel.

      Anwen gave Rhain her most winning smile. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Teague’s frown deepened, but she paid him little heed. If he was an angel, perhaps she could appeal to Rhian’s mercy. She would press any advantage he could give her. She must.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘My headaches seem to be gone now and I have most of my strength. I fear I would not have fared so well had you not taken great care of me.’

      Rhain returned her smile and gave a slight nod. ‘I am glad, despite my desire for you not to be hurt at all. Would you care to sit?’ Rhain indicated the chair he had been occupying.

      She was weak, but sitting would increase the position of power Teague held over her. Still, she appreciated kindness, since she so rarely received it, so she gave him another smile.

      ‘Rhain, Peter needs you in the stables,’ Teague said.

      The lord’s brother’s friendly face turned implacable as he gave her a nod. ‘Of course, how discourteous of me to forget. If you’ll excuse me?’

      It was the mischievous twinkle in Rhain’s eye, before he turned away, that worried Anwen more than Teague’s frown. It was as if he knew a secret. But what? Teague had ordered him away. Demanded again as he was wont to do.

      To be alone with her.

      Whatever advantage she hoped to have with Rhain was gone. Only now it was replaced with an acute awareness of how alone she was with the Traitor.

      His previous words still vibrated through her. In the bedchamber, had she revealed her body’s treacherous response to him? She was dressed this time and prepared. Whatever happened then wouldn’t happen to her again.

      But Teague didn’t speak and it still didn’t matter. Something of his silence vibrated through her, too. She listened to Rhain’s every step as he walked towards the Hall’s doors, and every thump of her heart in her chest sounding like that of a captured bird. Then there was a creak of the door, a gust of unsympathetic wind brushing against her limbs and more of Teague’s watchful silence.

      She didn’t want to sit, but her legs were weakening.

      ‘Are you well enough to answer some questions?’

      Ah, yes, he was too watchful. But her stubbornness and strength had been honed by men who flaunted their power and control over those who were weaker. How many times had she protected herself and Alinore against Urien’s fists?

      She might feel no anger from Teague now, but she felt his power, as she had since the first time she saw him. And somewhere deep in his silence and scrutiny she felt an insidious connection between them like a creance she’d snared herself on.

      It didn’t matter if it had started when he caught her under the tree, or comforted her in the night. It would end as soon as she returned to Brynmor. In the meantime, if her legs were weak and her head hurt, she merely needed to hurry along this encounter with the Traitor. ‘Whether I answer yours depends on whether my question is answered.’

      Teague’s eyes narrowed on hers, but then he waved to the servants, who brought two flagons of wine and some fruit and bread and set them on the table between the chairs. ‘Before we get to the questions, perhaps we should have some repast.’

      Anwen did not take her eyes from the man who knew she wanted to rush this discussion. He understood it so fully, he was forcing her to wait.

      Still, the food and repast gave her a reason to sit where he indicated, so she did. The plush chair immediately supported her just when her body needed it.

      Now she wouldn’t worry about fainting. She merely had to tolerate his scrutiny and match it with her own. Prepared, she wouldn’t respond to him as she had standing naked before him. But when he took the opposite seat...something changed.

      It was the deft way he picked up a green apple