The Heart of a Queen (A Historical Romance)

Chapter 9

Brienna twisted her head around and encountered the stern visage of Llewellyn, who stared straight ahead as if he hadn't noticed she was awake yet. Without thinking, she slipped off the horse and hit the ground hard, falling and rolling from the sudden impact. 

When she gained her feet she realized that Llewellyn wasn't alone, and she was surrounded by a party of soldiers on horseback moving at a fast clip. She dodged the animals, trying to get clear, and once she had a clear sightline, she ran.

Behind her, she heard Llewellyn's command for his soldiers to hold; she chanced a glance backward and saw that only he pursued her. Knowing she could not outrun a horse, she broke right, dashing through the thin woods that bordered the path.

But the closer she came to the cliffs, the barer the land became. Because of the constant wind, no trees grew in this close to the sea, and Brienna quickly realized that there was nowhere for her to hide. Llewellyn was gaining, and the only thing in front of her was the edge of the cliffs and a fatal dive to the water below. Still, she kept running, the sound of pounding hooves at her heels keeping pace with her thundering heartbeat.

Just as she felt like Llewellyn was close enough to grab her by the scruff of her neck, she spied an outcropping of massive boulders which no horse could enter, and made for them. She scrambled through the stone forest, only stopping when she knew she'd lost her pursuer, leaning against the steep face of a rock and catching her breath.

Suddenly, a dark shape appeared from between two boulders nearby and grabbed her—Llewellyn, who must have rounded the outcropping to the other side on his horse and then dismounted to cut her off on foot.

She spun to get away but he pulled her into him, lashing his arms around hers, his powerful chest against her back, pressing her into the rock face against which she had just been leaning, trying to quell her struggling. She yelled curses at him and kicked her feet backwards, but he just lifted her by the arms to prevent her blows from landing.

"Yield," he bellowed, shaking her.

She wouldn't and he gripped her tighter, not hurting her but preventing her escape while she wore herself out, struggling. Quickly she had spent her energy and went limp in his arms, her cheek resting against the cool, sandy stone, strands of black hair slicked to her forehead.

"Yield," he said, his voice softer now, lips held near her ear. His hot breath sent a trace of goosebumps down her neck.

They stood that way for a long time, until Brienna's breathing went back to a measured rhythm, the warmth of Llewellyn's body translated through her layers of clothing and warming her back, calming her. He didn't move an inch, making it clear that any further attempt to escape was futile. He wasn't there to hurt her, but he wasn't going to let her go.

Eventually he led her back to the small party he'd brought with him and helped her mount her own horse, which she rode stoically in the center of a circle of soldiers back to Gwynedd. They kept up a brisk pace which got them home just before nightfall.

When they got inside the walls of the castle, she expected to be the recipient of a humiliating punishment or at least an irate dressing-down, but Llewellyn did neither of these. He dismissed his soldiers and helped her down from her horse, and then left her standing in the courtyard while he went inside the great doors to the castle, all the while acting with perfect, if distracted, consideration toward her.

She returned to her small room and built a fire for herself in the hearth, thoroughly chilled from the long ride and the previous night spent sleeping on damp moss. She was almost grateful to see her dry bed and the rough wool rug at her feet; she started to view the room as cozy. Still, she felt unsettled and realized it wasn't because she hadn't successfully escaped. The pain of that had come as a sharp stab of fury and then gone as soon as she left that forest of boulders by the sea.

No, she felt let down because Llewellyn hadn't doled out any punishment or chastened her for her rash enterprise. In fact, after catching her against that rock, he hadn't said anything to her at all, but it didn't seem like his silence was born of anger or any other strong emotion. It was more like she just wasn't worth the trouble to him, and that, Brienna thought as she sunk into the soothing sheets of her bed, stung worse than any threat of punishment could have.