His Captive Princess Read Free Page B

men. What do you think his king will do when he hears of this?” Vaughn snarled.
    Privately she’d advised Lew not to ambush the Normans, but his Council had been adamant. Then upon finding the invaders’ numbers much smaller than they’d been told—a party of four men against the men of the entire Cantref Mawr—she’d urged them to desist.
    But this time Vaughn had a point. Eleri shuffled her feet irritably. “Mayhap his mission was one of treaty, and if that’s true, he could easily be a nobleman. Do we want to kill a man we might use to trade for those of our men captured at Cardigan?” She was grasping for excuses, but these thick-headed men would know no different.
    Ewen, one of Vaughn’s men, slapped a meaty hand on the table. “I say we kill him now. Are we being led by a female, as well as a boy?”
    Lew shoved his chair back from the table. “Would you have spoken to Owain thusly?” Thrusting back his shoulders, the young prince regarded Eleri again. “He will live.”
    Eleri released her breath and fought the impulse to smile.
    Gareth cleared his throat. “But if he’s not a nobleman, his king may storm our walls, caring not in the least if the prisoner dies.”
    Vaughn hovered behind her. She could feel his hot, sour breath on her neck. “Your people make use of slaves, Princess. My men will take him to Gwynedd. If he makes the journey alive, the Normans will have to deal with them for his return. It would not be our problem in Deheubarth.”
    A murmur of approval rumbled around the table along the bobbing heads of the elders.
    A journey such as that was difficult for even the healthiest men. A wounded man in the hands of Vaughn’s vicious curs, who detested all Norman scourge? He would be dead in no time at all, and his passing would bring Lew’s as the old wraith had foretold.
    Poor Lew could still be overthrown as an ineffective ruler if the matter wasn’t handled carefully.
    “It is settled.” The prince squeezed his pale hand in a fist. “We will give him three days to heal, then send him with Lord Vaughn’s men.”
    Eleri lowered her eyes. Vaughn wanted the Gorthwr ’sblood on his hands, wanted Lew’s blood on his hands. But most of all, Vaughn wanted her.
    With Owain gone and Lew deposed, he would have everything he desired.
    Warren’s resolve crumbled. The persistent tickle on his nose demanded to be scratched, and no matter how much pain the movement cost him, he would quell it.
    Twisting in his rope bonds with his hands tied high above his head, he rubbed his nose against his forearm. The rope scalded his wrists where his skin had rubbed raw. Alas, his bare arms gave him no relief.
    Mayhap he would go mad in captivity with these barbarians. Mayhap he had already.
    The tight timbers of the cell’s windowless walls prevented him from seeing whether it was night or day. Only the drop in temperature and the lack of visitors told him it was night. The tribe’s healer hinted that he would be leaving soon, though not in any words he understood. None of his visitors had spoken in his language since the day he’d been captured. He’d pieced together the fact he was being moved when the old woman had fed him that night, washed and returned his clothing, and had even placed a decorative brace of an iron bull in his fire—the pagan symbol he recognized for virility.
    Why would they want me healthy?
    The question had kept him awake for what seemed like ages as he stared into the slowly dying embers.
    Being released was the worst that could befall him. To be found alive by his king equated to treason by his liege’s thinking. Even though Warren had outwardly shunned his half-sister, Empress Matilda, in her quest to take the crown from King Stephen, his loyalty was still in doubt. Gladly he would cast in his die with Matilda, the true heir named by King Henry himself, if doing so wouldn’t put his family in jeopardy. Warren had done all he could to protect them. His dying would finally