Madoc groaned as if in anguish as his own heightened passions threatened to wash over him. "I can wait no longer!" he cried, and Wynne felt her parched and secret garden being flooded with his warm life force.
"Ahhhh, my dearest love," she whispered to him as her body eagerly received his lover's tribute and, after what seemed a long time, he shuddered with complete and total release even as she soared above him.
They lay sprawled together, replete with their fulfillment while the fire cracked sharply. Their contented bodies were wet with their efforts, and finally Wynne said, "We will catch our death of cold if we do not clothe ourselves, my sweet lord."
He kissed her neck softly, nipping lightly at the damp skin, and rolled off of her onto his hip. His fingers trailed down between her breasts, and then he said, "I had not realized how much I had missed you, dearling, until now."
Wynne laughed softly. "I, also," she admitted, sitting up and reaching for her chemise. "Cover yourself, Madoc, for if Willa sees you she will lust after you as she has for Einion."
He chuckled and began to dress himself. When they were both reclothed, they refurbished their fire and sat companion-ably next to it, holding hands.
"How are we to go about regaining our son?" Wynne asked him.
"I do not know yet," he answered her, "but as I have told you, it is best you secrete yourself at Gwernach, that Brys not know we are reunited."
"I will leave Willa and Averel at Gwernach with my grandmother," Wynne told him. "Although Willa cannot wet-nurse my daughter, there will be someone there who can. They will be safe at Gwernach. I, however, am coming with you. Can we count on Rhys of St. Bride's to aid us?"
"Rhys would, of course, aid us if I asked," Madoc responded, "but I will not. Cai cannot be taken by force of arms, especially where Arvel's life is concerned. We will have to regain our son through guile and great cleverness."
"You will have to kill Brys this time," Wynne said.
"You sound like my sister," Madoc replied.
"You cannot march yourself into Cai demanding your child, Madoc, and expect that Brys will acquiesce without a struggle." Wynne's look was a serious one. "Oh, Madoc, my love! You have given your brother every chance, but he cannot help himself. The destruction of your person and everything connected with you seems to be his ultimate goal; but I am convinced that even if he attained that goal, he would yet be dissatisfied. His hatred for you is a deep sickness of the soul that does not stem from the here and now. You know that as well as I do. We cannot spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders wondering what evil Brys is planning for us next time! Kill him! Put an end to it! Do not allow him to separate us as he did once before."
Madoc sighed deeply. "And if I kill him, will I not be in his debt? Will that hatred he harbors finally die, or will it be reborn anew in another time and place for me, for us to contend with, Wynne?"
She shook her head. "I do not know the answers to your questions, Madoc. I simply know that if we are to live out our lives in peace this time, Brys must be dealt with in a way that will leave him unable to hurt us anymore."
"He is my brother," the prince said helplessly.
"He uses that very tie of blood against you, Madoc!" she said impatiently. "He has cost us three years of our lives. He cruelly parted us in an effort to destroy you, forcing me into bondage, though God knows I was fortunate in that bondage. He has stolen our child. And for what purpose, Madoc? Why does he want our son? What wickedness does he now plan? This is the man of whom you would be compassionate? Your brother does not know the meaning of the word compassion. If you allow him to live on, the further misfortunes that Brys brings down upon us all will be your fault, my lord, for it will be you who will have let him wreak some new havoc."
"I know that the words you utter are right and true, dearling," the prince answered Wynne, "but do not fear. Though it will be hard to do, I will see that Brys never again hurts anyone." He made a small attempt at humor. "I think I should rather slay Brys myself than have to listen to you and Nesta scold me. My sister has never really forgiven me for not protecting you more thoroughly, Wynne."
Wynne smiled. "How is Nesta?" she asked him. "I thought of her often, particularly in the early days of my captivity, for she was near to term with her child. Was it a son or a daughter?"
"Nesta has two sons," Madoc told her. "The eldest is Daffyd, and the younger, Trystan."
"How I long to see her!" Wynne said, and then she frowned. "We cannot allow Nesta and Rhys to know we have returned until Arvel is safe," she told him. "Tell me of my grandmother, my sisters and Dewi."
"Your grandmother is well, though she has mourned you deeply, even knowing you were not dead. Dewi is almost a man now, and Mair is growing into a beauty. She is the only one of your sisters who will rival you."
"And Caitlin and Dilys?"
Madoc laughed. "They thrive, although the elder will not speak to the younger anymore."
"Why on earth not?" Wynne looked puzzled. "They were always friends, if one could call their odd relationship friendly."
"True, dearling, but remember, 'twas always Caitlin, the elder, who led the way. Now, however, the tide has turned in Dilys's favor. In the four years she has been wed, she has produced four children. Three boys and a girl. The girl is one-half of a set of twins. Caitlin, on the other hand, has had but one son, upon whom she dotes, and has miscarried twice of children too small to even sex. Although her husband treats her as if she were a queen, and she rules the roost at Coed without interference, she is discontent and furious that her younger sister has outstripped her."
"Does Arthwr complain of a lack of children?" Wynne asked him.
Madoc chuckled. "He does not. He would not dare."
Wynne laughed. She had not thought of Caitlin in a long time, but now her memories of her sister came flooding back. No, her brother-in-law would not complain. He would have learned by now Caitlin's long memory for a slight, and her uncanny ability to wreak revenge upon those who displeased her. "How unfortunate," she said, her face now smooth and serious, "that I shall not be able to invite my sisters for a reunion at Gwernach," and then she was overcome by a fit of giggles.
They reached Gwernach unannounced late on a grey afternoon.
Clasping her eldest grandchild to her bosom, Enid could only say, "I knew he would bring you home safe, my child!" Her eyes brimmed over with happy tears that ran down her worn face.
Wynne hugged her grandmother back. She was astounded by the change in Enid. Her grandmother had suddenly become an old woman who moved far more slowly than Wynne could remember. Her lovely visage was marred by lines. "I have brought you a great-grandchild, Grandmother," she said, and drew her daughter forward. "This is my daughter, Averel Aethelhardsdatter."
Enid masked her surprise and, bending, smiled into the little girl's face. "I like your name, Averel," she said. Then she lifted Averel up into her arms, kissing her cheek as she did so.
Averel regarded Enid with large eyes, debating whether she was ready to accept another new person into her life. So much had changed for her in the last few weeks. She liked the giant with the burning head who let her ride upon the wagon's bench and hold the horse's reins. Willa liked him too. She was not certain, however, of the dark man who always seemed to be watching her mother and paid little heed to her.
Averel decided quickly. Putting her arms about Enid 's neck, she kissed her great-grandmother wetly. "Gama," she said, sounding mightily pleased. The adults around her laughed.