Before I Met Your Mother
Chapter 30 of "A Sword for Wellington", Book Three of The Môrdreigiau Chronicles
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The story began in A Grail for Eidothea and continued with A River Trembles. Now the Chosen Court seeks another Arthurian treasure. New here? Save this post and have a binge read. You deserve it.
Sir Hugh’s interrogation of the Chosen Court continued. He can see Maeve (just as he could also see Olwen’s ghost). Eidothea discovered she couldn’t hold the sword. She’s not Chosen. Jasper and Llyr traveled back to the coast to warn Cychwr of Ladon’s return and to request reinforcements. Sir Hugh and Gwen finally got some time alone out in the Belgian countryside.
Note: this one is a little longer than usual so you may have to head to the website to read the whole thing.
Outside the Hôtel Bellevue, Hugh watched Gwen dismount.
Perhaps once this war was over, they could formalise their relationship. He could set her up in a house in London or in the country. Anything she wanted, so long as she stayed. He knew he’d never tire of being with her. He didn’t even want to think about losing her.
As they stepped into the hotel lobby, she tensed. A distance stretched between them even though she stood by his side. “What is wrong?”
A curtain of her hair hid her face, her hairpins long since lost. “It is nothing.”
He tapped her upper arm. She met his gaze. He blinked, not expecting to see such a bleak expression. What troubled her? “I can always tell when you are lying.”
That earned him an amused snort. “It’s nothing but a fancy, a superstition.”
He didn’t believe her. He lightly cupped her chin. “Tell me. You and I can share anything, Gwen, anything.”
“Soldiers do not talk of the battle that is to come.” She freed her chin of his touch. “I would fight with you.”
Her declaration chilled him. An image of her bloody and battered almost beyond recognition flashed through his mind. Never. He would not allow it.
He kept his voice light and reasonable. “We may never engage in battle. Napoleon’s supposed to come via Mons. With our luck, the Prussians will crush him first.”
She chucked his chin. “I can tell when you are lying too. Napoleon may come via Mons, but you will be there to fight him.”
Her conviction stirred another memory, of his aunt telling him of Napoleon’s flight and his own untimely fate that might yet be avoided. “It won’t be until July, my love. Bonaparte still gathers his forces. It takes time to move an army.” He kissed her brow.
Not until next month. She smiled, her good humour restored.
I drew my father into our suite of rooms. We would have to discuss his scandalous state from earlier in the day. With Jasper and Llyr out seeking passage back to Ostend, and Sir Hugh and Miss Jones gone to … well, they had not been clear on that score, but their furtive looks suggested that the aunt had inspired her nephew when it came to libidinous acts.
“Should we talk about what happened today?” I asked him.
Father swallowed. “As an unmarried woman, you should not have recognised—”
I pinned him with a dire look. “I read the ladies magazines and novels. What I want to know is—are your feelings for her genuine or are you seducing her for my cause?”
Father gazed down and then out the window. “We have a history, Lady Meredith and I, before I met your mother. It is not often one gets to reconnect with their first love.”
“You … loved her?” My breath stopped somewhere deep in my chest. Via thought I reassured my Chosen Court that I was safe, hoping that Llyr would enlighten Jasper. I exhaled. “But you did not marry her?”
Father took my hands in his. They trembled. “I loved your mother, Eidothea, very much. I had not thought of Lady Meredith until our research uncovered her family home. When I saw her again—” He ducked his head. “I confess I became smitten. I tried to be reasonable, to set her aside but—”
“I asked you to befriend her, to win her to our cause.”
“I have won her heart,” Father said, “but I am afraid I have done very little else. I hoped if she still loved me, she might accept you. All of you.”
I patted his hand. “None of that matters. Do you love her? Does being with her make you the happiest of men?”
He searched my face, trying to gauge my real thoughts on the matter. He sucked in a breath. “Yes, I adore her.”
I smiled, my eyes watering a bit. “Then be with her, Father. It will ease my mind to know you are not alone while I am in Caer Morgana.”
Joy dawned on his face. “You mean this?”
“Of course I do.” I kissed his cheek. “You have my blessing if you even needed it.”
“You have made your father very glad.”
“Not as glad as Lady Meredith has, I warrant.” I dodged his playful tap.
Late that evening, Miss Jones and Sir Hugh returned. They both looked … windblown. Sir Hugh’s whispering to Lady Meredith drew my attention from the window.
”Where have you been?” I asked. “Mr. Tregallas and Llyr have left for Ostend already.” Our farewells had been necessarily but horribly brief. I felt them in my heart but I loathed separating from them.
Sir Hugh straightened. “I needed to clear my head. Miss Pendyr, are you invited to supper at the Acklands tonight?”
I nodded. “I had quite forgotten it. I do not suppose we will be missed. I promised Llyr and Mr. Tregallas that I would not take any risks.”
“Supper is hardly a risk. I and your father will be with you, Miss Pendyr. Might I suggest it would ease your mind of your worries?”
“There will be dancing and cards also,” Lady Meredith added.
I glanced at Ondine, who had not stirred from staring out the window. :Sir Hugh is right, it will provide distraction, and I fear we are just that to Llyr and Jasper even if we do shield them from the worst of our worries.:
Ondine nodded and rose. “We should start dressing.”
“Bring your gowns into our bedchamber,” Lady Meredith offered. “You did not bring any maids, so we can dress each other.”
We collected our gowns, wrinkled from being hastily stuffed into trunks.
“We should repack everything tomorrow,” I told Ondine on our way back to Lady Meredith. “It will keep our hands and mind occupied while we wait.”
We entered Lady Meredith’s bedchamber to find them already stripped down to their shifts. Miss Jones wiped Lady Meredith’s upper back with a damp sponge.
Ondine and I both gasped.
“Tattoos,” Ondine got out, “You have tattoos.”
Lady Meredith glanced at us before transferring her attention to Miss Jones. “You see, this is why I insist on long gloves.”
Ondine dropped her gown on the bed. “My Cychwr has a tattoo but nothing like this. May I look?” Miss Jones held out her arm. “Are those … are those dragons?”
Miss Jones nodded. “Sea dragons. They are my ancestors and they strengthen my sword arm.” Her hand rubbed over her forearm. “I understand the custom has fallen away in the centuries since—“
Lady Meredith interrupted. “Miss Jones lived in a remote place that kept to the old ways better than my circle did.”
I gave up straightening our gowns. “Sea dragons?”
“You know the Lady but not the dreigiau môr?” Miss Jones burst out.
I thought my heart would stop. I had not mentioned my people by name. Miss Jones had dreigiau môr blood?
“Dear,” Lady Meredith interrupted again. “I do not know of these drug-eye-more. Much has been lost as I have said.”
“That is true,” I said, deciding not to reveal my true identity yet. “The tales are still told along the west coast of Wales.”
I took Miss Jones’ hand, drawing her arm straight.
Her tattoos depicted dreigiau môr with great accuracy, even masked by the swirling Celtic knot work and her many scars. She allowed me to turn her arm this way and that, and offered her other arm when I released her.
I gave it a thorough perusal while I digested Miss Jones’ revelation. A long vermilion mark stood out in the fold of her elbow.
“Ondine,” I breathed. “Is that…”
Ondine peered over my shoulder. “Is that a newer scar?” she asked Miss Jones.
“Where?” Miss Jones stared down at where my thumb rested against the Mark. “There is only ink.”
I knew it. She had a Chosen mark. I had found another of my Court. I needed to discuss this with Llyr. I thought about calling on Maeve to have her confirm it as well, but Ondine had already done so I released Miss Jones’ arm. “It is beautiful work, Miss Jones, quite unusual for a woman to have.”
Miss Jones rubbed at her arms. “I am no ordinary woman.”
I smiled back. “Neither am I.”
Lady Meredith rose. “Miss Jones, cease your prattling and help me dress.”
“We will speak later,” I said to Miss Jones in a low voice.
:Chosen Court?: Ondine thought at me.
:Most definitely—and she said she’s descended from dreigiau môr.:
:Are women on land usually warriors?:
:No.: I shook out Ondine’s gown although it did little to dispel the wrinkles. “But you saw the blood on her gown earlier…:
Ondine raised her arms so I could lower the gown over her lithe form. :They are keeping secrets. More than the sword.:
:As are we,: I reminded her. :I was always forbidden to speak of my origins, but perhaps it is time that I do.:
Ondine turned, allowing me to tie the ribbon on her high-waisted pale green gown. :Maeve wasn’t happy about being revealed.:
:But Miss Jones knows of us already, and not as myth.: I sighed, lifting my arms to slip on my gown. The lavender hues reminded me of my Caer Morgana robes. I was certain that Ondine had chosen the pale green for the same reason. :Let’s see how the appointment with the Duke goes tomorrow. She’s definitely Chosen Court. When Llyr returns, we will ask his opinion.:
The two of us sobered, our minds turning to the two who journeyed west to warn Cychwr. I hoped they remained safe.
Gwenddydd left the laden supper buffet table at the Acklands, her own plate piled high. She joined her group seated at a smaller table. Other small tables filled the remaining space.
Her mind turned to the strange Miss Pendyr. She had tried to conceal her shock at the tattoos. Lady Meredith had clearly been correct in insisting she hide them. Ondine had lacked surprise, being curious and more distressed by Gwenddydd’s old scars.
With supper over, servants cleared all but a few tables. Musicians settled into a corner making preparatory noises.
Sir Hugh took Gwenddydd aside. “I will claim my dance with you.”
She glanced at Miss Pendyr and Ondine sitting with Lady Meredith and Mr. Pendyr against the wall. They seemed safe enough.
Gwenddydd followed Sir Hugh onto the floor, but he grabbed her hand, continuing outside and down the steps into a tiny garden. Light from the house gave them enough light to see by.
Hugh’s twisted grin seemed to mock her. His eyes changed from ice-cold to burning hot. He leant close, his voice dropped to a rumbling burr. “I desire to touch you again.”
She sucked in air between her teeth, catching the full aroma of his masculine scent. “Sir Hugh...”
“Call me Hugh,” he murmured. His fingertips trailed up the back of her arm. Her skin prickled with doubled awareness of him.
“V-very well.” She took a steadying breath. “Hugh.” He stepped behind her, standing close enough for her to feel his heat. His fingers traced the bumps of her spine.
“You want me, don’t you?” he whispered.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
His hand settled against the hollow of her lower back.
Her cheeks flushed, warm and hot. With just one touch, he possessed her. “I prefer this to dancing.”
“What do you prefer?” he murmured, his breath hot at her ear.
“The way you touch me.”
His hand rubbed her lower back. “You do, do you? Is this all you want? Just a light touch here?” His fingertip skimmed along her spine. “Or here?” He stroked the side of her breast, a whisper touch gone before she had the chance to savour it.
“You know I want more...” But how could she when delivering the sword meant returning to her own time?
His hands settled on her hips, fingers splayed wide. “I sense hesitation. That is unlike you.”
Gwenddydd agreed, leaning back against him, relishing his warmth and solidity. “You know why I hesitate. The future—”
He turned her around, pulling her against him. She did not fight him. “We agreed to live in the moment.” He sounded angry.
She stared up at him, trying to make out his features in the moonlight. Steep shadows rendered his scarred face a puzzle.
“This might be our last night,” Hugh whispered against her mouth.
“Now who is not living in the moment?” She twined her arms around his neck. “We have until July.” Her mouth melted against his in a tender kiss.
They swayed, her lean curves moulding against him. Their kisses merged one into the other, a cascade of pleasure.
Gwenddydd tasted salt. She ended the kiss, fingertips smoothing across his cheeks.
He caught her hands, tugged them away. “I do not think I can let you go.”
“It is not up to us, cariad,” she murmured. We each have our duties, our obligations…”
Hugh hissed a curse. “We should not have left the Pendyrs alone with my aunt.” He brushed a kiss upon her cheek. “Tonight,” he murmured huskily. “Come to my bed tonight.”
A burst of laughter startled them apart. A small group of men and women stood at the double doors leading to the garden. “The garden is not well lit,” said one woman. “I will not go out there.” They returned inside.
Hugh’s hand closed around hers. She leaned against his arm. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, tonight.”
Judging from Miss Pendyr’s assessing expression, she knew very well that he and Gwen had snuck out to the garden, instead of dancing.
Hugh bowed over her hand. “Would you do me the honour?”
Her brows rose. “A dance? Then I accept.” She stood, resting her hand upon Hugh’s. He led them to the lines forming for the next dance.
He noticed Ondine and Somerset join further down the set. He’d have to tell him about Ondine’s affiliations with Miss Pendyr’s strange occult group and warn him off.
The music started. He bowed to Miss Pendyr and stepped toward her. Supporting her extended hand, they circled in a four before separating and returning to the line.
“You will take me tomorrow?” Miss Pendyr asked, when she drew near.
“I said I would.” They turned away from each other, returning to clasp hands and proceed down the line to the next couple. “He won’t brook any nonsense from you, and neither will I. I will not let you endanger Gwen—Miss Jones’ mission.”
She cast a look at him, the coquetry marred by her silk and lace eyepatch. “I am a British citizen too. I do not wish him to fail either.”
“Good.”
They separated, promenading on the outside of the line before returning to their place.
“Are you something other than a British citizen?” he asked.
She grimaced. “I meant in addition to the—” Miss Pendyr glanced sideways at the women on either side of her. “The group I lead.”
“That spirit you call Maeve called us humans. Does that mean you are not?”
She met Hugh’s gaze. “I am as human as you. The Chosen Court is a closely held secret. Aside from my father, you are the first to know of it.”
“And your friend Cychwr.” Miss Pendyr pinked. Hugh raised a brow, knowing it contorted his ruined cheek. “You hide something. By God, I will bury you if I find it hurts Gwen—Miss Jones.”
They came together, holding both hands.
“I would never hurt Miss Jones. What is she, exactly?”
“What?” His nose crinkled in confusion. “I am sure I do not know what you mean.”
“Secrets.” Miss Pendyr laid her hands on his shoulders while his landed upon her natural waist. “Secrets that do not harm others can be safely kept.”
“Can they?”
They twirled down the set, reaching the end of the line. There being an odd number of couples, they stood out the next round of dance steps and waited to rejoin them.
A manservant appeared beside Miss Pendyr, holding a folded note.
She took it from him, smiling her thanks. Hugh watched her read the note, saw her face pale. She stood on tiptoe, searching the crowd from her place.
He closed the distanced between them. “What is it? What is wrong?”
“Jasper, Mr. Tregallas,” Miss Pendyr corrected herself. She stared up at him, her whole body trembling. “He says he has returned. That he is back at the hotel.”
He took the note from her, scanning its contents. “Why did he not simply come here?”
She bounced on her heels. “I should go.”
“Not alone you won’t.” His nerves tingled. Something felt very wrong.
She closed her eyes, giving him the additional duty of making sure she did not collide with anyone. “I would know if he was in danger. I do not get that sense from him. However, he does not mention Llyr at all. Has something happened? Why has he come back?”
“How would you know?” Hugh turned from her for a moment, asking a servant for their coat and cloak. Miss Pendyr moved on without him. He hurried after her, limping, and wishing for his walking stick.
They climbed into the first available fiacre.
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