She caught her breath. This man was perfect.
Although she could quite plainly see his figure, the milky
moonlight cast a veil over his features. She saw his head, but not
his face; the outline of his body, but not his clothing. Still, she
knew this man was perfect. He was kind, courageous and
generous.
He was staring at her. She could tell by the
tilt of his head. She wasn’t the least ashamed that she was staring
back so hungrily. She felt drawn to him, she wanted him…In that
moment, she knew she would do anything to have him.
In her dream, the moonlight became misty.
Somehow they found themselves in each other’s arms. His were solid,
comfortable and fit around her shoulders as perfectly as she’d
known they would. His face pressed into her hair and she closed her
eyes. He whispered her name over and over: “Olwen, Olwen,
Olwen…”
“Olwen! Can’t you hear me calling you? Why
are you out here?” he said. “The baby’s crying his head off!”
She turned reluctantly. Richard was
assiduously stepping aound the muck in the foreyard. He complained
about the cows wandering where they would and making a mess
wherever they went but what did he expect? This was a farm, not the
ward of some great castle like Rhuddlan. And cows had to be brought
in for milking…
“What are you doing?”
She looked at him. Physically, he was exactly
the same as on the night she’d first seen him. His beautiful green
eyes, dark, curly hair and slender, taut body never failed to send
a rush of excitement through every one of her nerves. But as for
the rest of it…that had only been a dream, a fantasy. Although he
was the same person and she loved him, reality was still taking
some getting used to.
“The baby is crying,” he said again. “I think
he’s hungry.”
He was so handsome, she thought, but there
was danger for her in his beauty. Did other women find him as
attractive as she did? The women at Rhuddlan, for example. Were
there a few there, young and unencumbered by children and an untidy
manor house, who watched him in the moonlight and enticed him to
fall in love with them?
She shook herself abruptly. “I’ll come.”
But before she could move, he put his hand
out. Unconsciously, she backed away a step so it wouldn’t touch
her. The memory of the dream was strong yet and she knew if she
felt the familiar weight of his fingers on her arm she would burst
into tears and disgrace herself. She had to be strong, hadn’t she?
This was, after all, what she had wished for…
He was frowning. His hand hung between them
as if he was still giving her the chance to accept it. “What’s the
matter?”
Why couldn’t she just tell him? Why not
simply ask him why he had to leave so often and stay away so long?
But she knew why she couldn’t—she didn’t want to hear his answers.
She suspected she knew those, too. Duty, friendship,
responsibility…
“Nothing.” She forced herself to smile at
him. “I suppose it’s the suddeness.”
His face was full of relief and she was
irrationally angered. Couldn’t he hear the lie in her words? His
arm reached out and rubbed her shoulder. She clenched her jaw and
stood still, neither accepting nor refusing the caress. Couldn’t he
see the emotion eating her up inside?
“Will’s like that,” he said, almost
cheerfully. “When he decides something, it must be done right
away.” He laughed a little. “Everything is urgent business to
Will.”
Olwen had begun to regard William Longsword
with as much loathing as did her former mistress, Lady Teleri. This
was the man who continually contrived to deprive her of Richard’s
presence. On whom Richard bestowed his duty, friendship and
responsibility. Did either man never think of Richard’s family? Of
his two sons who were still young enough not to recognize their
father when he returned to them after spending months with his
lord?
She was furious but averted her face and
moved away. “I’d better see to the baby,” she said. He made no
effort to stop her. She was furious but she was frightened even
more because she loved him and didn’t want him to leave her. She’d
seen the situations of too many shrewish wives before; their men
turned to tongues which didn’t nag so much and arms which beckoned
instead of gesturing angrily and they themselves became greyer and
less appealing in contrast. She shuddered to imagine such a fate.
What if one day he decided it wasn’t worth his while to return
home?
Richard Delamere had been home only two weeks
when Alan d’Arques showed up with the news that a delegation of
Welsh sent by Maelgwn ap Madog had arrived at Rhuddlan with express
instructions to treat for a peaceful solution to the unfortunate
violence which had erupted between Llanlleyn and Lord William fitz
Henry.
Delamere was astonished. “How did Lord
William react?”
“There were plenty of wagers on that!” Alan
said cheerfully. “The consensus was that he’d run them off Rhuddlan
land but he didn’t. He’s agreed to talk.”
Delamere was even more astonished. Longsword
was invariably aggressive when he felt he was the aggrieved party
in a dispute. “I’d heard that fatherhood can change the character
of a man but I never before believed it!”
“Oh, it’s not because of that!” Alan told
him. “Or, at least, so the talk goes. The rumor in the barracks is
that it’s down to the healer.”
“Gwalaes? Is there news of her daughter?”
“That was the first question Lord William
asked. When he was told she was safe and sound, he replied that he
refused to treat unless Bronwen was returned to her mother
immediately.”
So the little girl was still alive. Delamere
was inwardly relieved. He’d liked the serious, precocious child.
Then something Alan had said before struck him. “What do you mean,
it’s Gwalaes who’s behind Lord William’s change in behavior?”
To his surprise, d’Arques managed to turn
red. “It’s only talk, Sir Richard…”
“People don’t talk unless there’s reason!”
Delamere said sharply. “I’ve only been away a fortnight—what’s
happened?”
“Nothing’s happened, Sir Richard! Lord
William just seems, er, very grateful to her for saving his life.
It’s said that’s the reason he restrained his impulse towards
violence when the Welsh came. She asked him to.”
“Asked him to?” Delamere repeated
incredulously. He frowned. “Well, she must have been frightened for
her daughter…”
“No, Sir Richard. After Lord William demanded
the child, the delegation told him that, as a measure of the
chief’s good faith, she had already been safely returned to the
abbey.”
Delamere almost choked and Olwen gave him an
appraising look. She was waiting on the two men as they sat at the
table eating a quick meal before they set off for Rhuddlan, and
listening to their conversation. She understood the gist of the
Norman words but not Delamere’s reaction. He sounded almost jealous
of this woman who had earned the respect of his lord. It was clear
by the expression on his face that he couldn’t believe another
person could possibly have influence over his beloved master.
It was true; it was hard for
Delamere to accept what he was hearing. However, he said no more
about it lest Alan d’Arques begin to suspect Longsword was behaving
irrationally—because that was exactly how
he
saw it. Yes, Gwalaes had saved
Longsword’s life but hadn’t the men of Llanlleyn almost taken it
away in the first place? And then they’d burned down a Norman abbey
and kidnapped an innocent child to use for extortion. To treat with
people like these, Delamere considered, was an admission of
weakness.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that his
leave-taking of Olwen and his children was almost perfunctory,
which only increased the dismay and impotent anger Olwen was
already feeling. She wanted desperately to ask when he would return
to them but bit her tongue out of pride. He might take her and the
boys for granted but she would never let him know how much it hurt
her.
Chapter 28
April, 1177
Rhuddlan Castle, Gwynedd
Longsword didn’t understand it but it made
perfect sense. Every time he saw Gwalaes he felt immeasurably
happier; every time she spoke to him, he lost his concentration and
his heart beat faster. He thought about her constantly and his
slightest effort was performed as though her eyes were on him. He
thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, tall and
slender with thick dark brown hair and large brown eyes. He found
her soft voice soothing and pleasant. He respected her skill in
healing, her capable manner; he remembered the delicate way her
fingers had touched his wounded neck…He was completely in love with
her.
He was equally convinced that she loved him.
He didn’t give it much thought; he merely assumed that such strong
attraction on his part must surely be reciprocated. But she was
shy, perhaps owing to her position, and never approached him or
spoke to him unless he spoke to her first. It didn’t matter; he
needed a little time anyway. He needed to figure out what he was
going to do with Teleri because of course he couldn’t marry Gwalaes
if he were still married to the prince’s niece. He would like to
have asked Delamere for advice but sensed that his friend did not
approve of his interest in Gwalaes. But that didn’t matter, either;
he was prepared to sacrifice a friendship for a relationship with
the woman he loved.
His immediate problem was finding ways to be
with her. There were few excuses he could make to compel Gwalaes
into his presence now that his shoulder and neck were much
improved; few reasons that their paths should cross. And he
couldn’t very well be upfront about it, not with a wife eager to
find another reason to condemn him and not with a pregnant mistress
in residence.
The obvious answer was to reunite her with
her daughter. If he could accomplish that, he was certain she would
fall into his arms…
When the Welsh delegation had come with its
overture of peace, his first impulse had been to massacre every man
but one and send heads back to the Llanlleyn chief. But Gwalaes’
daughter had been returned to the abbey and Gwalaes was so
pathetically grateful that he hadn’t been able to repay concession
with violence. He’d swallowed his anger and agreed to meet the
chief. He’d insisted the Welsh bring the little girl to Rhuddlan so
that Gwalaes would not ask permission to return to the abbey. He
was determined to bring mother and child together in his fortress
so Gwalaes would always associate the happy reunion with him.
Delamere trotted through the gate with a
scowl on his handsome face, his lips pressed tightly together. He
had not been totally immune to Olwen’s emotionless farewell; it
had, in fact, grated on him all the way back to Rhuddlan. Sometimes
he felt she was the female equivalent of Longsword, who often
looked put out as well when he left Rhuddlan to visit his home. His
unplanned comings and goings should, by now, have become routine to
her; instead, she seemed angrier with each new departure and he
didn’t like this attitude. Was it only a matter of time before she
started to greet him in the same unenthusiastic manner?
He’d barely spoken a word to Alan on the ride
back to Rhuddlan. His irritation with Olwen had spilled over into
his consideration of Longsword’s affairs, making him more and more
displeased with every mile gone. By the time they reached Rhuddlan,
he was ready to explode.
Longsword, waiting for him in the ward after
being apprised of his arrival by the watch, recognized the look on
his face and wisely decided against a cheerful greeting. He said
nothing at all.
Delamere jumped off his horse and tossed the
reins to a groom. He quickly and briefly inclined his head to
Longsword and spat out one word. “Well?”
“Come inside—”
“Alan said you’re prepared to make peace with
Llanlleyn. Is that true? Am I too late?”
“No, but come inside, Richard. I don’t want
to provide a spectacle for all and sundry.”
Grudgingly, Delamere allowed himself to be
maneuvered into the keep. As they passed through the hall, he
noticed Eleanor sitting alone on one of the benches against a wall.
She glanced up as they walked by; he saw Longsword nod to her. She
responded with a small smile. Alan’s insinuation ran through
Delamere’s mind; it certainly seemed confirmed by what he’d just
witnessed! He was well aware that arguing over women was the
primary cause of discord between friends and he tried to keep his
voice level when he confronted Longsword as soon as the door to the
council room had closed behind them.
“I’d have thought she would have returned to
the abbey,” he said. “Alan told me what happened to her
daughter.”
“No. I wanted them to bring her when they
come back.”
“So you
are
prepared to treat. Alan wasn’t
wrong.”
“Again Alan!” Longsword was irritated. He had
sent the young knight for Richard Delamere in order to get him out
of Rhuddlan because he was jealous of him. Alan d’Arques seemed to
spend too much time in Gwalaes’ company and that annoyed
Longsword.
He sat in his heavy, carved chair and gave
his friend a measured look. “You don’t think I should?”
“Of course I don’t!” Delamere finally
exploded. His voice was loud and forceful. “Aren’t these the same
people who almost killed you? My God, Will, I don’t think you
realize how close to death you were!”
“It was Rhirid who tried to kill me. I’m
informed that he’s been banished from Llanlleyn. His father sent
him to make amends with Prince Dafydd.”
“And that’s good enough for you?”
Longsword shrugged. “Why not?”
Delamere was so perplexed by Longsword’s
attitude that he forgot his previous anger. Usually, Longsword was
overly sensitive to any perceived slight and often reacted to it
like a rabid dog, snapping and snarling at anything in his path.
Now, however, he just sat back in his chair, meeting Delamere’s
confused frown with a bland face. “After your initial recovery, you
wanted a quick revenge…” Delamere said, less stridently.