Page 64

“I had not expected to find you at the camp when I returned,” he said stiffly.

Catrin swallowed hard. What had happened to the friendship she’d believed they shared? “There was an accident. Bleddyn was hurt and could not guide me back to Conwy.”

“He seems well enough now. I saw him moments ago eating heartily.”

“Although he is much improved, he has only been off his sickbed for two days, and he suffers from intense pain in his head still.”

“And so you have been doing his work.”

Catrin straightened her shoulders. “I was glad to help. There was no one else who could manage the horses.”

He reached out and took her hand, turning it so he could see her palm. Even in the weak light, the new scrapes and blisters were clearly visible.

“Heaven help us, Catrin. How will you explain this to your father and the duke? You are gone from the castle without a chaperone for over a week and return with the hands of a laborer.”

Stung by the frustration in his voice, Catrin snatched her hand back. “By now, my father will know that I have chosen to follow my conscience—that I am simply doing what my mother would have done in my situation. And I care not one jot what the duke thinks.”

Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “No matter your feelings or mine regarding the rebellion, you are speaking of two very influential men who not only strongly oppose what we are about, but they also have powerful incentives to seek you out. I cannot have my men placed in danger because of your presence.”

“They shall not find me,” Catrin said. “I told no one but Beti and Elfed what I was about. At my request, Beti will have removed herself from the castle and gone to stay with Margaret by now, and neither my father nor the duke will deign speak to Elfed.”

“And when you go back?” he pressed. “Have you considered what they might do to make you share your knowledge of this camp’s whereabouts?”

“I do not wish to go back to the castle; I wish to remain here and do whatever I can to help forward the rebellion.”

He stared at her. “You would give up the life of an English noblewoman in a castle for that of a Welsh rebel in a remote longhouse in the mountains?”

“I would not have come here if I felt otherwise,” she said, surety settling upon her even as she spoke.

“And what of your betrothal to the Duke of Bedford?”

“We are no longer betrothed.” She held her head high. “I told the duke that I would never, under any circumstances, marry him, and when he realized my resolve, my father agreed to void the marriage contract.”

For a few seconds, Rhys appeared speechless. “If that is true, my regard for Lord Buckley has risen immeasurably.”

Catrin forced a smile. “Would that your newly found favor extended a little further, but I am glad for my father’s sake.”

He gave her a strange look. “What else would you have me consider?”

Feeling unexpectedly defeated, Catrin turned away. Despite her efforts, she was obviously more of a burden than a help here. Returning to the castle was no longer an option. Even if her father overlooked her unexplained absence, she would feel like a caged animal in enemy territory. She did not know how else to help the rebellion, but perhaps Enid or Nerys would know of somewhere she might go.

“Catrin?” Rhys spoke again.

She shook her head. “’Tis nothing.”

He frowned and placed his finger beneath her chin, gently moving her head so she was forced to look at him. “If it causes your shoulders to droop so markedly, ’tis not nothing.”

The skin beneath his finger tingled, but she met his eyes. “Why did you ignore me so completely in the longhouse?”

Understanding flooded his face. He moved his fingers from her chin and trailed them along her jawline until he was cupping her face. “Because I knew that if I looked upon you, I would set aside the time and attention I owed the men who fought so valiantly these past few days in order to join you.”

Catrin searched his deep-blue eyes for the sincerity she yearned to find.

“Do you know the reason there are no women other than Enid and her granddaughter at camp?” he asked.

She shook her head slightly.

“They are a distraction to the men. In order to maximize our efforts, each warrior’s focus must be fully on the cause for which we are fighting.” He paused and took a deep breath. “With that said, your presence here has placed me in a torturous quandary. You are without doubt the greatest possible distraction to the chief marshal of this camp, and yet you risked your life to bring us information that saved countless Welshmen. You have already proven yourself a Welsh warrior.”