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“What the hell!” he cried out amidst the chaos.

But what was happening was all too clear. A large section of the roof was missing in the corner furthest away from him. It had come crashing down, collapsing into the middle of the room, which was littered by stones and pieces of wood.

Johanna was trying to scramble to the other side of the bed, which, mercifully, was situated in the part of the room that had not been smothered in debris. She appeared unharmed, but it was clear that with her injured wrist, she was having difficulties moving. There was another rumble, followed by another bolt of lightning. She screamed again. Dear God, was the rest of the roof going to crumble and bury them in a shower of stones, dust and wood splinters? He ran to Johanna, lifting her into his arms and carrying her out of the door and into the safety of the spiral staircase.

He only stopped when they had reached the last step. Both panting and wet, they stared at one another.

“Are you all right?” they asked at the same time.

“Yes.” Cadell was the first to answer. “You didn’t injure yourself further crawling on the bed? Your wrist?”

“No. But I d-don’t understand what happened,” Johanna stammered.

“Lightning strike must have hit the top of the keep, which is the highest place for miles around. The castle is falling apart anyway, so it’s hardly surprising that the blow would have sent the roof crumbling.”

Just then three men and a woman came running.

“What happened?” they asked in Welsh. “Has the roof collapsed?”

Cadell could not repress a gesture of impatience. Now they were doing their job, but they were not worried about their mistress’s welfare, only about the possible damage to the castle.

“Yes, the roof in Lady Johanna’s room has collapsed,” he told the three people, barely containing the urge to bark at them. He would wait for a more opportune moment to tell them exactly what he thought of their behavior. “Go up immediately, put out all the fires you can see. I’ll go warn the others. We need to make sure this doesn’t get any worse.”

“Of course.”

The men ran up the stairs while the woman rushed back to the bailey, presumably to raise the alarm.

“Where can I take you for the night?” Cadell asked Johanna, loath to be separated from her but knowing he had to be the one giving orders. The people of Bryn Glas would either ignore her instructions or not understand them.

“There is a little room next to the solar. I suppose I can have a pallet brought there.”

It seemed a reasonable idea. However, when they reached the room in question, they found it in such a state that he knew he would not leave her there, not when she was wet and shivering.

“You will have to sleep in here,” he decreed, bringing her back into the solar itself, where at least a fire could be built.

He settled her in the only chair there was and took a step back. Much as he wanted to, he could not keep her in his arms all night. She nodded and threw him a look of such despair that he almost reached out to her again.

“I need to go,” he said instead, wrapping a fur over her shoulders. It was thin and moth-eaten but it was the only thing he could find. It would have to do for now. Damnation, he would have to have a word with the people of Bryn Glas on the morrow. They had better start taking care of the place—and most especially of their lady. “I’ll send someone with dry clothes to you.”

“Yes. Thank you Cadell.”

After an evening spent issuing orders and overseeing the sealing of the chamber at the top of the tower, Cadell was finally able to go back to the solar. He found Johanna, not dressed in fresh clothes, as he’d expected, but still in her wet dress and curled up in the chair where he’d left her. At first, he thought that his instructions had been ignored but then he saw that a gown and shift had been deposited on the stool by the hearth. Why had she not put them on? And why had she not lifted her head at his entrance? He looked closer and saw that she was doing her best not to cry.

He rushed into the room and scooped her up into his arms.

“What happened? Did they say something to you?”

This was too much. He would kill whoever had upset her this time. Didn’t the people see that she, English as she was, had been brave to come back? That she only wanted to see to their welfare? Didn’t she deserve at least some effort on their part?

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. “These people have made it clear they don’t need or want me. I should leave. No one likes me, no one is willing or even able to talk to me. It’s too much. I should never have come here. I should have stayed in England. Except… Except that no one really needs or wants me in England either. It’s too hard. What am I to do? I don’t want to be alone again. Not again.”

He could tell that she was letting out all the pain, the frustration and the anger of the last few months, when she had lost her husband and been forced to find a new life in which she didn’t fit. There was nothing to do except sit down, listen and rock her, as he would a child.

“My wrist hurts, my head hurts, my heart…oh, but my heart hurts too. This is too hard. I’m all alone here, in a place where no one wants me.”

“You’re not alone.” The words were out before he could think. “I’m here. I want you.”

I’ve wanted you from the moment I understood what it meant to want someone.