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 and cradled the ripe fruit in his sure hand. It was the way he bit into it and the way his eyes didn’t leave hers as she watched the cords of his throat when he swallowed.
Her eyes went to his again. There was a different gleam there now. One which made her aware of the intimacy of them sharing a fire, a meal and a private conversation. His sudden predatory manner reminded her of their exchange upstairs. Despite her garments, despite the strength sitting gave her, she felt naked, exposed. Vulnerable. It was enough to shake her.
‘Why am I a prisoner?’ she asked.
‘Is that what you think you are...a prisoner?’ Teague bit into the apple again. This time she was prepared for whatever strange reaction she experienced before. Prepared, but no less affected. He was merely eating, but the way he did it... The smooth bite of his teeth, the sound of the crisp apple. The way he cradled the fruit.
She felt more like a prisoner than when she was locked in the room. Yet nothing kept her here except for his presence and the way she reacted to him.
‘You’re no prisoner. I merely provided a guard to give you some protection. Do you believe you have committed a wrongdoing to justify imprisonment?’
‘How could I commit a wrongdoing when I was asleep for days?’
Teague tossed the apple into the fire, but her eyes remained on him, so she saw the smug curve of his lips as he continued. ‘Perhaps it is what you were doing before you fell that we should be discussing.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her actions prior to her injury were none of his concern. If he didn’t want people to come to his village, then he shouldn’t have stolen the best tanner in the region.
‘You are from Brynmor,’ he said.
Anwen just managed to hide her surprise. ‘Yes, it is my birthplace.’ So it wasn’t the tanner but her home that concerned him.
‘So you admit to living in a Welsh minor prince’s home?’
‘I don’t know what you mean. There have been no Welsh princes since Edward’s wars. We are all English now.’
‘But you do admit Brynmor was at one point an enemy manor?’ he pressed.
‘I believe that is a matter of perspective. Your home could just as easily be termed an enemy castle.’
‘Are we enemies?’ He stood and clasped his hands behind his back. He did it so suddenly, so restlessly, the move surprised her.
Anwen stood along with him, moved away from the chair, the repast and the warmth of the fire. She wasn’t fooled by his friendly tone; she knew a trap was being laid. ‘King Edward has declared we are not.’
‘Then what were you doing in Dameg Forest so close to Gwalchdu?’ Teague began circling her.
She felt like a hawk’s prey and had a sudden instinct to move her head to follow him. Instead she stared straight ahead when she answered. ‘My home is near yours and Dameg Forest. If we are not enemies, then there is no wrong in being in the forest.’
‘You know Alinore, Lord Urien’s daughter?’
‘I am well acquainted with her.’
‘And Robert?’
‘One would hardly live at Brynmor without knowing its English-appointed Governor,’ she answered through the tightness in her throat.
‘What is your position
