“Are you ashamed of me? Of what happened between us?”
“No, never. But I don’t want it to get you killed.”
“King Rhun was going to keep Caelin, send him back with Lord Fergus to Ir Ysgyn, claiming Gemma was now a corrupting influence,” said Cenydd. “Anwyl took Caelin from Perthawc before King Rhun set a guard, but it is likely he will send soldiers to retrieve him. You should leave. Sooner rather than later.”
“Mama?” At the sound of Caelin’s small, scared voice, Gemma took the basket from Caelin and put it on the ground, then picked him up and hugged him.
“Shh. I’ll never let you be taken away from me. Ever.”
“The safest thing would be for you to leave Lyffnach. All three of you. Now. That is, assuming you have a better offer for Gemma than mine, Arne.”
All of them turned to look at him, but he had eyes only for Gemma. He swallowed, unsure what to say. Did she want him? How did she feel about marrying Cenydd? Should he encourage her to marry him? The lord of Lyffnach was a good choice for her, better than him, but—
“Well? Do you?” Gemma’s voice was quiet, her face blank, and when he didn’t respond immediately, she lowered her head.
“I… I cannot match Lord Cenydd’s offer,” Arne said, unsure of what to say, knowing only that he wanted to be with her. He wanted to be the one to protect her, to keep her safe, to wake every morning in each other’s arms like they had done that morning. Was it only that morning? It seemed so much longer. She started to turn away from him, towards Cenydd, and he knew he had to take a chance before it was too late. “I have some wealth, but no lands, no real status here.”
Gemma drew in a breath. She kept her eyes down, fixed on the top of Caelin’s head as she held her son in her arms. “Those are not the things that matter,” she said and took a step towards Cenydd.
“If wealth and status were all she wanted, she would have accepted Lord Cenydd’s offer,” Anwyl said gently. Gemma looked up at Anwyl then slowly turned her gaze to Arne. Their eyes met and she bit her bottom lip as if waiting, hoping for him to say something.
Arne cleared his throat and took a step towards her, then another. He didn’t want her to marry Cenydd, didn’t want her to be with anyone but him. It was selfish, but…
“Can you guarantee her safety?” Cenydd asked, stopping him.
Arne glanced at Gemma, who was staring at him wide-eyed. She looked unsure, and he cursed himself for having put that look there. He should have told her the truth in the shieling, told her how he felt about her. And he could hardly blurt it all out now, in front of so many witnesses, especially one who had the king’s permission to marry her.
“Arne?” Cenydd prompted. “Can you keep them both safe? I cannot give her everything she desires, but what I have to offer is not insubstantial.”
“I know,” Arne agreed. “And if I were to assess this situation from a practical viewpoint, then it is likely you would be the better choice.”
“But our lives are not only about practical considerations, Arne. Although I feel I must ask again, to reassure myself. What are you willing to do to keep Gemma safe?”
Arne stared at her, remembering how she had looked in the firelight in the shieling. The tenderness as she had touched his scars, the soft wonder on her face as they had made love for the first time. And now her expression was blank, as if she was afraid to let him see how she felt in case he hurt her – and he realised now that he had already hurt her – but if she gave him a chance, he would spend the rest of his life making up for that hurt.
“I would die for her,” he said, holding her gaze. Her lips curved into a slow smile, then her hands flew to her mouth as she sobbed and closed the gap between them.
“I take it you are not choosing me, then?” Cenydd asked, sounding less concerned with the rejection than Arne knew he would have felt if Gemma’s decision had been different.
“Just tell her you love her. Put us all out of our misery,” Anwyl said, shaking his head and pushing Arne towards Gemma. Then he took Caelin from Gemma’s arms.
“Do you?” Gemma lifted her hand and touched Arne’s cheek, then laid her palm on the side of his face.
He closed his eyes and drew in a breath, revelling in the warmth of her touch, because she didn’t seem to care about his scars, the fact that she—
“Yes,” he said, then leaned in and kissed her, wrapped his arms around her. She felt so right there. How could he have ever thought to let her go?
“If you are going to steal my bride from me, Arne, then perhaps you could at least kiss her somewhere else.”
Gemma pushed away from Arne as he opened his eyes to see Cenydd’s sly smile, but this time he wasn’t letting go and, although he allowed her to shift beside him, he kept her nestled against his side. “I am hardly stealing her.”
Her gaze lingered on his for a moment before she turned to Cenydd. “I’m sorry.”
Cenydd inclined his head in acknowledgement and Arne hoped he would bear him no lasting ill-will.
“Take the horses, as you will need to outrun King Rhun’s men. Although we don’t plan to let any of them past Dol Mawr.”
Arne followed Cenydd’s gaze as it swept over all the soldiers already gathered within the walls of Dol Mawr. Would they be enough? To defeat any of the other lords of Strath Clut, certainly. But if the king rallied support from more than one of his subjects? There was no way of knowing, but Arne had to believe Cenydd would at least retain control of his own lands despite having disobeyed the king and spirited Caelin away from his control.
