The Heart of a Queen (A Historical Romance)

Chapter 10

After a full day of recovering from her misbegotten adventure, Brienna resumed the same routine she'd had before; long walks interspersed with serving Llewellyn and Isobel at their meals. She wasn't barred from the stables, or from leaving the grounds, and this lack of concern that she would try to escape again made her listless. Had her hosts seemed worried that she would get away, she would have had more reason to believe it was possible.

She resigned herself to completing her year-long sentence as Lewellyn's ward, having nothing better to do than grow frustrated over her lack of progress on her tapestry and spend long hours looking longingly out at the sea. Ulf, her one last link to home, was sympathetic but couldn't offer her any solace, and seemed unlikely to help her go against the Laird's wishes again.

The one bright light in her life was in the rare letters she received from her brother, which were full of ambition about the war that Connaught and Leinster were brewing against the English lords who incessantly pushed deeper into Ireland. Ruarc judged their potential success to be inextricably linked with Llewellyn's support, and Brienna was reassured that at least her unhappy time in Gwynedd would have a worthwhile outcome.

Ruarc also liked to slip in clever stories about her future husband, but her eyes had a tendency to skip over them; all of that seemed very far away, although Ruarc advised her to start preparing her wedding trousseau. She turned over the fine threads and cloth that her mother enclosed with these letter for just that purpose, but the appeal of transforming them into beautiful robes, slippers, and underthings didn't call to her.

What called to her was the roar of the sea against the cliffs, where she stood letting the thunder of the waves beat down her sense of longing for home, her feeling of being cast out, adrift, unanchored. It was during one of these prolonged meditations a week after her attempted exodus that the Llewellyn came to find her one afternoon. She was so enthralled that it took her several moments to realize that someone was standing a few steps behind her, to the side, and thinking it a servant come to fetch her, she flicked her hand in annoyance.

"I'll be in shortly," she said, figuring they'd come to remind her it was time to serve dinner, though it seemed early for that.

"At your leisure," the booming voice made her turn.

She was amazed to see him there, cloak whipped open by the wind, which in turn molded his clothes to his body, outlining powerful legs, a lean torso. His hair was pushed back from his face and Brienna could see in his ruddy cheeks the exertion of climbing the hill to see her. 

As if the wind had blown his usually stern demeanor away as well, Brienna saw kindness in his bared face, tenderness in the hands that rested on his belt. She was also surprised that he knew where to seek her out at this hour; she'd assumed he only thought of her when she was placing meat on his plate, but he must have been keeping very close tabs on her whereabouts.

"No, wait," she said, to keep him there. "What is it?"

Llewellyn spoke to her from where he stood, a few feet away, looking into the wind as she had been before he came.

"I think that, unlike my sister, you have no talent for idleness." He paused, and looked at her. "Perhaps there is something, after all, that I can teach you."

"And what is that?" she asked.

"How to be useful." She frowned, but though one corner of his lips twitched, aware that he'd irked her, he didn't explain further. "We'll begin tomorrow, after breakfast. And since you'll be occupied elsewhere," he added, "you'll no longer serve my sister and I at table."

He dipped his head to her slightly and walked back down the hill on the way to the castle. Brian watched him until he disappeared, shivering as she wondered what it was he had in mind to teach her.