“You heard that Sir Roland arrived in the night, then?”
Sir Roland? It was a not-uncommon name, but no specific Roland came to mind.
“Charlie told you, I suppose,” Allen continued. “I hope he didn’t disturb you, my lady. Sir Roland said you wasn’t to be disturbed or any fuss made. He said he’d sleep in the stable with his horse. Fine animal, that, I must say!”
She was tempted to agree, and she didn’t mean the horse. “Did he ride far yesterday?” she asked as Allen came down the ladder that creaked beneath his weight.
“I don’t think he stopped more’n twice all the way from Dunborough.”
Mavis’s throat suddenly went dry. She swallowed hard, then tried to sound calm. “Dunborough?”
“That’s what he said. He’s related to that Broderick, I take it.”
“He might be his brother.”
Allen frowned. “Hope he’s not going to make trouble for you and your father, my lady.”
“I hope so, too.” She turned to go.
“Need that taken somewhere, do you?”
She paused and turned around, eyeing the groom quizzically. He nodded at the bundle in her hands.
“No, no, it’s just some things for the poor,” she lied. “I was on my way to take it to the chapel for Father Bryan when I thought I heard someone in the stable. It must have been Sir Roland. Now I had best get to the chapel, and then I must see to the accommodation for our guest.” She gave the groom a smile. “I still don’t know how Tamsin managed to do all that she did.”
“You’re doing fine, my lady,” Allen assured her. “Everybody says so, especially since your father... That is, His Lordship’s not...”
“No, he’s not,” Mavis agreed before she left the stable and cautiously started back the way she’d come, doing her best to avoid being seen by any of the servants who were stirring.
Her escape would have to wait one more day. It was unfortunate, but there was nothing she could do, so she went back to her chamber with her bundle.
Once there, she hid the bundle beneath her bed again before changing her gown from the simple, coarse traveling gown of heavy wool she’d been wearing to a more expensive, prettier one of a delicate green, like leaves in the spring. After all, it would look suspicious if she wore that brown gown, and if the green one was a little fine for daily wear, well, it was the first one she’d seen in her clothes chest.
She had barely finished tying the front laces of the bodice when there was a quick knock on the door. She opened it to find Charlie standing there, hopping from foot to foot as if the soles of his shoes were on fire. “If you please, my lady, you’re to go to the solar. Right away.”
“But surely my father—”
“He’s awake, my lady, and shouting for you. He’s in a right foul temper, my lady.”
Perhaps Sir Roland had insisted on speaking with him at once.
Although there was no one nearby, Charlie dropped his voice to a whisper. “Denly’s in the hall and he says you’re to call him if you need him.”
If her father struck her again, or tried to hurt her, he meant. She was grateful for the offer, but her father was rarely sober enough to harm anyone these days. Nevertheless she said, “Thank you, Charlie, and tell Denly I’ll remember,” before she gathered up her skirts and hurried past him.
Once at the solar door, she took a moment to calm herself, then entered.
A broad-shouldered man with hair to his shoulders was standing with his back to the door, his arms crossed over his chest as he faced her father. He was seated behind the vast table and looked worse than usual, his face mottled, his nose red, his eyes overly moist, his clothes stained and soiled. He hadn’t even bothered to change since he returned from Cwn Bron, and he hadn’t stopped drinking, either.
She didn’t have to see the features of the man standing in front of him to know it was Sir Roland of Dunborough. She could tell by his broad shoulders, long legs and hair to his shoulders.
“Sir Roland,” her father slurred with a wave of his hand, “my daughter, Mavis.”
The younger man turned, and his deep brown eyes widened. “You are more beautiful than they told me,” he said with obvious surprise. Then it was as if a door had closed, for his expression became as grave as a bishop’s.
“I am delighted to meet you, my lady,” he continued, his tone as formal as his bow.
“And I, you, my lord,” she replied with equal formality.
Her father reached for the wine goblet at his elbow. “She’s yours if you want her, Sir Roland. Same terms, same dowry, as your father agreed to for Tamsin.”
Still looking gravely at Mavis, Sir Roland didn’t so much as glance at her father as he replied. “I shall be honored to have this lady for my wife.” Then, for just a moment, the gentle man in the stable returned as he lowered his voice and said, “If she will be pleased to accept me.”
“Of course she will,” her father exclaimed. “It’s that or a convent.”
When Mavis answered, she spoke not to her father, but to Roland of Dunborough. “I accept, my lord.”
Chapter Nineteen
S
ome time had passed before Rheged and Tamsin finally left the bedchamber and made their way to the hall below. Servants and soldiers greeted their arrivals with clapping, stamping and cheers, much to Tamsin’s blushing delight and, she could tell, Rheged’s pleasure. He held up his hands for silence, and when the noise had mostly died down, he said, “I’m glad to see you all, and so is my lady, who will become my wife on the morrow.”
There were more cheers and clapping after that announcement, as well as calls for wine to toast Sir Rheged and his bride. Hildie, Elvina and a few other servants hurried to fill the goblets, including those on the table where Rheged and Tamsin would sit.
Tamsin thought of one man who should be there, and sighed.
Rheged squeezed her hand. “He’s pleased, I’m sure,” he said quietly, giving her a little smile.
“I’m sure he is, too,” she replied.
The soldiers and those servants not serving had likewise taken their places, except for Gareth, who remained on his feet. “We wish you joy, my lord, my lady, and plenty of children to come!”
Again Tamsin felt the heat of a blush and the squeeze of Rheged’s hand before he rose and gravely said, “I shall do my best.”
The hall filled with laughter and the general cacophony of several people talking at once, while the bread and trenchers and thick stew began to arrive. The meal was a long and lively one, yet all the while Tamsin was mindful of Rheged beside her, his apparent good health and what that might mean when they retired.
She was just about to suggest they do when Gareth, somewhat the worse for wine, made his way toward the table. He leaned over, close to Rheged. “My friend, I have something to tell you.”
Her husband-to-be raised an eyebrow.
“I took a wife today.”
Although she, too, was startled, Rheged almost fell off the stool. “You...what?” he demanded as if Gareth had announced he was starting his own crusade.
Gareth turned and called out to Elvina. Blushing bright red, the young woman drew closer. “Have no fear, my love, he won’t bite,” Gareth said with a laugh. “I thought I’d follow your example, Rheged. Elvina agreed to be my wife and we said the vows, so...I’m married.”
The silent Rheged still looked stunned.
“I’m so happy for you both!” Tamsin cried, rising and hurrying to embrace the shy maidservant and Gareth, too. She faced her husband. “We have even more reason to have a feast tomorrow!”
“Aye, yes, aye!” Rheged said like a man waking from a long sleep. Rising, he said something in Welsh and didn’t even take the time to go around the table, but climbed right over it to clap his friend on the shoulder. Then he laughed and said, “For once you beat me, eh, Gareth?”
The two men laughed, and embraced, and soon were drinking to each other’s health and good fortune while the women who loved them looked on indulgently and smiled.
And Hildie moved a little closer to the oblivious Rob.
* * *
The next day Rheged and Tamsin, dressed in their finest, stood on the newly built dais in the hall of Cwm Bron. As they faced each other, Father Godwin, who’d come from a nearby monastery at their request, blessed their union as well as the ring Rheged placed on Tamsin’s finger. It was a plain band made of gold, yet to her, it was more beautiful and worth far more than if it had been made of diamonds, and when they kissed, it was to seal a union she knew would last till death.
Below the dais, the tables were spread with clean linen, the torches and new candles burned brightly, a fire crackled in the scrubbed hearth, and loaves of bread and fruit in baskets had already been put out. The table where Rheged and Tamsin were to sit was decorated with bunches of evergreen boughs, the scent adding to the various delicious smells emanating from the kitchen.
“I should have known you could prepare for a wedding feast at a moment’s notice,” Rheged said after the ceremony was over and they took their places for the wedding feast.
“I didn’t do this,” she protested. “I haven’t had the time.” She nodded at Hildie, grinning like a fiend at the kitchen entrance. Other servants were in the hall, and while all were happy, only Hildie bore a look of proud satisfaction. “I think this must be Hildie’s doing.”
“However it happened, I’m grateful,” Rheged said before the priest began to bless the meal.
Rheged felt nearly completely well. He might have felt even better if he’d stopped celebrating Gareth’s marriage and gone to sleep sooner, but that would have meant ignoring Tamsin, or trying to, when they went up to the bedchamber. Trying not to touch her had been difficult before; once she slipped into bed beside him, it had been impossible. Nor did she even try to talk him out of making love, perhaps because she was just as eager and full of desire as he.
Gareth and Elvina sat together nearby. Gareth didn’t appear to be suffering any ill effects from the night before, and Elvina looked radiant with happiness.
Rob led another rousing cheer for both the grooms and their brides, and then the feasting and drinking and celebrating began in earnest. The soldiers toasted their leader so many times it seemed Rheged could barely get a bite to eat. Tamsin laughed at their jokes, and more when Rheged blushed at some of them.
“I’ll speak to them tomorrow about the respect due to their lord and his wife,” he muttered under his breath after Dan made one particularly bawdy jest.
“Fear not, my lord,” she replied, lightly resting her hand on his thigh. “I’ve been dealing with merchants, servants and soldiers for years. While they often curbed their tongue when I was near, they weren’t successful every time. I daresay I could tell you a few worldly tales that would make theirs seem fit for a nursery.”
Rheged regarded her with a mixture of awe and dismay. “You could?” Then his eyes grew bright with amusement, and something more besides that made her blood warm. “You must share them with me later,” he whispered, leaning closer, “when we’re alone.”
“I hope that will be soon, my lord.”
“As do I, beloved, as do I. I suppose we shouldn’t alarm the priest, though.”
“I suppose not.” Tamsin nodded down the hall, where Hildie was now sitting on Rob’s lap and laughing. “I think there might be another bride and groom before long.”
“Perhaps marriage is catching. I certainly never thought Gareth would tie himself to one woman.”
“Are you comparing marriage to bondage, my lord?” she asked with bogus dismay.
“If it is, I’m happily bound to you and never want to be free again.”
As they smiled at each other, one of the guards from the gate entered the hall and trotted toward the dais.
Tamsin sat up straighter and glanced at Rheged with genuine concern. “Do you suppose something’s wrong? Perhaps my uncle—”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Rheged replied. “Indeed I realize now I forgot to give the guards the watchword for the night.” His grin took away her fear, and his next words made her smile. “For some reason, I seem to have had other things on my mind. I believe it will be...joyous happiness.”
“That seems a rather lighthearted password,” she replied with apparent solemnity.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he mused, likewise apparently serious. “It will be...” He hesitated a long moment. “I can’t seem to think of anything suitably serious.”
By then the guard had reached the dais. He leaned over the table so that only Rheged and Tamsin could hear. “There’s a fellow seeking entrance at the gate, my lord, says he’s Roland of Dunborough.”
Tamsin’s stomach knotted, her happiness overcome by dread.
“How many men does he have with him?” Rheged demanded, getting to his feet, his hand moving instinctively to his hip where the hilt of his sword should be.
“None, my lord. It’s just him—but he’s a tough-looking sort!”
Rheged’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Let him through the gate. I’ll speak with him in the yard.” He noticed Gareth, who had risen, too, and gestured for him to sit. “Another guest, that’s all, and one I should greet,” he explained loudly, then spoke more quietly to Tamsin. She, too, had gotten to her feet. “If he’s come alone, there’s no need for you—”
“I’m your wife, Rheged,” she gently, but firmly, interrupted. “Anything that concerns you concerns me.”
“You won’t stay here even if I command it, will you?”
“You should know the answer to that by now.”
With a sound that was a cross between a snort and a laugh, he took her hand and led her from the hall, but not before she saw him slip his eating knife into his belt. Nevertheless he acted as if nothing was amiss as they passed Gareth.
“What’s happened?” he asked, frowning and nodding at the guard who was downing a mug of ale.
“I never gave the men a watchword for the night, and Tamsin wants to—”
“Look at the stars,” she finished for him.
“Oh, watchwords and stargazing, is it?” Gareth said with a wry expression. “Well, if you say so.”
“I do,” Rheged replied gravely, taking Tamsin’s hand.
“What
is
the watchword? Love and marriage? Babies to come?”
“Old dog, new tricks,” Rheged replied.
Gareth’s roar of amusement followed them from the hall.