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“I started out on foot, but the cobbler passed me in his wagon before I had traveled too far, and I rode the remaining distance with him.”

She was silent for a moment. “You must reach Penmynydd before morning, and all the carts are now gone. Seren is well able to carry us both as far as Beaumaris.”

Rhys could only stare at her. “You would have me ride with you?”

“Yes.” And then, as though suddenly realizing the impropriety of her suggestion, she dipped her head. “If you wish to, that is.”

Rhys wished to very much. Far more than he should, in fact. But he knew that social protocols aside, Lady Catrin was taking a huge risk in being seen with a leader of the Welsh rebellion. “I fear that the English guards may not take kindly to my appearance at the castle gate, even if I were there to ensure the safe return of Lady Catrin Buckley.” He paused, hoping she would understand that his concern was not so much for himself as for her. “I would be most happy to accompany you as far as the outskirts of town, however. Especially as your strength is not yet fully restored.”

She raised her head again, and he saw her smile. “Then I shall endeavor to complete my bouts of coughing before reaching Beaumaris so that I can manage the last mile on my own.”

“Most wise, my lady,” Rhys said with a soft chuckle. He was beginning to believe Lady Catrin could do almost anything she set her mind to.

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Catrin gave Rhys the reins. Seren had accepted the Welshman’s presence with no hint of resistance, and she was grateful that Rhys knew the way so well in the dark. The distant rush of the ocean and the rustle of nocturnal animals in the hedgerows seemed magnified in the night air. But they were peaceful sounds, and after the intensity of the vicious fire and frantic people at Llanfaes, Catrin was grateful for the sense of normalcy inherent in nature’s simple noises.

Seated behind her, Rhys was silent. She could feel his warmth and the firmness of his chest at her back. Occasionally, he would move the hand holding Seren’s reins, and his arm would brush hers. Each time, a frisson of awareness left her skin tingling, and she could not help but wonder if he felt anything at their touch. If what he’d told her about the recent skirmish between the Welsh and the English was true, she was now consorting with an enemy of the crown, and yet, wrapped in his cloak, with his arm securely around her, she felt perfectly safe.

“We are approaching the fork in the road that leads to the castle.” Rhys kept his voice low. “I should leave you here.”

“Very well.”

A hint at the regret she felt at parting must have sounded in her voice because Rhys reined Seren to a stop but did not alight.

“Can you manage the remainder of the journey alone?”

“Yes. I need only hold on to the reins. Seren will take me there.”

He nodded, then with a swift and fluid motion, he dismounted.

Catrin fumbled with the clasp at her shoulder. “I thank you for the use of your cloak,” she said, sliding it off her shoulders and offering it to him.

“Keep it, my lady. You still have farther to travel.”

She shook her head. “Not nearly as far as you. I will be back in my chamber, sitting before a fire sooner than it will take you to acquire another horse. And that is just the beginning of your journey.” It had been only minutes since she’d lost the warmth afforded by Rhys’s cloak and his proximity beside her, and already she was feeling chilled. She could not imagine crossing the wind-swept straits without cover.

Somewhat grudgingly, Rhys took it from her outstretched hand. Their fingers touched, and he quickly lowered his arm.

“Lady Catrin,” he began.

“Catrin,” she corrected him. They had been through too much this night to continue with such formality. “I wish that you would call me Catrin.”

He inclined his head. “Catrin.” He paused as though choosing his words carefully. “I pray that you will always have someone nearby on whom you can rely, but should you ever have need of me, get word to someone at the chapel in Llanrwst.” He met her eyes. “I will come.”

She mustered a small smile. “I thank you, Rhys. Godspeed to you and to Maredudd. And give my best wishes to Margaret.”

He nodded and stepped away from the horse. Catrin flicked the reins, and when Seren started forward, Catrin did not look back.

It did not take long to reach the castle gates. A torch burned at the entrance, and as she crossed the drawbridge, a guard stepped out to greet her. She was starting to shiver with cold, but she kept her head high and gave the guard a curt nod.

His eyes widened at her disheveled appearance, but he quickly hid his shock beneath his bowed head. “Good evening, Lady Catrin,” he said, moving hastily out of her path.

Catrin rode through the gate. She did not need to guide Seren; he cut through the outer ward and made directly for the stable. The mounted soldiers who had been waiting at the stable doors when she left were now gone, but to her relief, Aldwin was standing in the courtyard. He looked up at her approach, his eyes moving quickly from the horse to her own tattered appearance. Setting the tack he’d been polishing on the bench beside the door, he moved forward to grasp Seren’s leather straps. Without a word, he led her inside the stable.

“If I may, my lady.” Aldwin reached up to help her dismount, and held her steady until he was sure her feet were under her. She coughed—a harsh, painful cough—and concern filled the stablemaster’s faded-brown eyes. “Shall I send for someone to help you to yer chamber, Lady Catrin?”

She shook her head. “I can surely manage that short distance.” She ran her hand across Seren’s smooth coat. “I fear that both Seren and I spent too long in the smoky air. Would you watch him well in case he suffers for it?”