No, that couldn’t be, or she would have heard an alarm sounded and men riding out.
In spite of her efforts to comfort herself, Roslynn’s hands trembled as she put the baby to her shoulder and began to rub his little back. Madoc must be all right. No harm would befall him. Not today, or for years to come. She would tell him what she had come to realize, and that she’d been wrong. Given how he’d looked at her last night, she believed he would forgive her, and it would be as it was during the best days of their marriage.
As soon as her mother returned, she would ask her to find Madoc and bring him here.
The door opened a crack. “Mother?” she called out eagerly.
It was not her mother. Two heads, one above the other as if they were stacked, appeared—her father and Uncle Lloyd, as curious and shy as little boys.
Surely if Madoc were in trouble, they wouldn’t be looking like that. “Have you come to see the baby?”
“Aye, and you,” Lloyd said, sidling into the room. “How are you?”
“Well, and very happy.”
Her son burped, and she lowered him, to see that his eyes were closed. He was falling asleep already. “Come and see Mascen.”
“He’s so small,” her father said with awe.
“He’s the perfect size for a babe,” Lloyd corrected with a frown, as if Lord James’s observation was a personal insult. “Mind, smaller than if he’d not wanted to make his entrance early and in a dramatic fashion, but Madoc was only a bit bigger when he was born, and he was a fortnight overdue.”
“Now that I think of it, Roslynn,” Lord James remarked, “you were about that size, and you were early, too.” He leaned over to look closely at the baby. “What a fine grandson!”
“My grandnephew’s a marvel and no mistake,” Lloyd said, pushing Lord James aside. “Look you at those lips—Madoc’s exactly, with that little dip in the center. And the nose is just like my brother’s was. He’ll be even better looking than his father with that nose.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my husband’s nose!” Roslynn laughingly protested.
“Well, not saying there is, am I?” Lloyd replied, “but his father’s was better.”
“It is a very fine nose,” Roslynn agreed. “It would be nice if I could compare it to my husband’s right now. I hope he didn’t drink too much braggot and fall ill?”
“No, he’s fine, perfectly fine, I’m sure of it, like Mascen,” Lloyd said quickly—too quickly.
Roslynn shifted, then winced. “Where is Madoc?”
Lloyd and her father exchanged significant looks, and fear crept into her heart. “Is he in danger? Has Trefor come onto our land? Has he been attacked? Or has he gone to Pontyrmwr to fight him?”
The baby started to fuss and Lloyd reached out to take him. “Now see there, you’ve upset the poor little man, and no reason for it. Your husband’s fine.”
“It’s true,” her father assured her. “He just went to get Owain. It’s a bit of a ride, so it’s not surprising he’s not back yet.”
Relieved and pleased she was finally going to meet her stepson, and he was going to meet his little brother, Roslynn smiled. “Oh, that’s wonderful!”
Lloyd handed back the baby and started toward the door. “We’d best be off. You need your rest, that termagant of a midwife says. She’s probably finished eating by now and there’ll be hell to pay if she finds us here when she comes back. I’ll send Madoc to you the moment he’s back. Should be anytime now.”
“When did he depart?” she asked. She wanted to be ready to receive Owain, and have the baby clean and fed and ready, too, when they arrived.
“Well, now, yesterday,” Lloyd admitted, “but it would take awhile to get there, and he wouldn’t be riding home in the dark, especially with a child.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” she replied even as they heard a commotion on the wall walk.
“It’s not an attack,” Lloyd said at once. “Must be Madoc come home.”
A worried look on her face, Lady Eloise hurried into the room, and Roslynn’s relief died in an instant.
“What’s happened?” Lord James demanded as Roslynn stared at her, too afraid to speak. But, oh, please, God, let Madoc be safe, or she would live with regret and remorse for not trusting him sooner all the rest of her life.
“There’s no need to frighten Roslynn,” Lady Eloise said sharply to her husband. “Ioan and some of the men are back, that’s all. Madoc will return soon, too, no doubt.”
No doubt, she’d said, those two words bringing not comfort, but more fear. “Mother, where is he?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Lady Eloise reluctantly replied.
“Mother, take Mascen and put him in the cradle and stay with him. I’m going to find my husband, or someone who can tell me where he is.”
The men looked horrified, and Lady Eloise only slightly less so. “You’ve just had a baby,” she said. “You must stay in bed.”
“Please send Ioan to me.”
“That, um, won’t be possible.”
More determined than ever, Roslynn held out her son to her mother. “Then take the baby, Mother, and help me dress. Father, Uncle, please wait for me on the stairs. I’ll need your help going down the steps—but I will find out what’s happened to my husband.”
SUPPORTED BY her father and Uncle Lloyd, Roslynn stepped into the hall and saw the cot on the dais and a man lying upon it. Sick with fear, she nearly swooned until Ioan turned toward her.
“Be of good cheer, my lady,” he called out jovially, although he was as white as freshly washed fleece and there was a piece of bloody linen wrapped around his right arm. “I was the only one got hurt.”
“How?” she asked as they made their way slowly toward him. “Where?”
“Sit you down and I’ll tell you,” he said.
When she had done so, and her father, Uncle Lloyd and several others had gathered round, Ioan proceeded to tell them about Madoc’s clever and successful strategy after an ambush, and of Gwillym’s bravery in volunteering to stay with the wounded man.
When he was finished, Roslynn began to breathe easily again.
“It was Ivor and Rhodri led the scoundrels?” Lloyd demanded.
“Aye, I’m sorry to say, and both dead, more’s the pity,” Ioan answered. “A quick death’s better than they deserve.”
“I knew it!” Lloyd cried, smacking his hands on his knees. “I knew Trefor couldn’t be a thief and a blackguard!”
Roslynn stared at him with surprise, for she’d heard Lloyd denounce him more than once. So had they all.
But Trefor, Ivor or Rhodri were much less important to her than her husband.
“If Madoc’s well, and you were close to where Owain is fostered, shouldn’t they be back by now?”
“We are!”
She had been so intent on Ioan, she hadn’t heard the door to the hall open. Yet there stood Madoc, as large as life and smiling, with a small boy beside him and…Trefor on his other side?
She rose shakily. The boy was a smaller version of both men in terms of build and coloring, but his eyes were like only one of them. The bright blue rimmed with black was exactly the same as Trefor ap Gruffydd.
Not Madoc’s eyes. Trefor’s. Was it possible…But that would mean Madoc had lied. And deceived her. And everyone.
“Sit down, my dear,” her father commanded.
Before she could, Madoc hurried to her and put his arms around her.
“I lied, Roslynn,” he confirmed as he sat and brought her down to rest on his lap, speaking to her as if they were all alone instead of in the hall. “I lied to everyone. Gwendolyn and I were never truly husband and wife, because it was Trefor she loved, always, and after we wed, she couldn’t bear my touch. So we both knew whose child she bore, and for pride’s sake, we let everyone believe the child was mine.”
He took a deep breath and held tight to Roslynn’s hand, looking at her with eyes full of remorse. “After Owain was born, when she reali
zed she was dying, Gwendolyn asked me to tell the truth and take Owain to his father, and I promised her I would.”
A deep, ragged sigh shook his robust frame. His voice dropped to a whisper, although it was clearly audible in the hushed hall. “I broke that promise. I had a host of excuses, but beneath it all, I wanted to punish Trefor for what had happened. Roslynn, I’ve been dishonest and dishonorable. It’s been like a thorn in my heart, but no more than I’d earned.
“Even when I realized how much you value honesty and trust, my pride would permit no confession. I was too stubborn and too selfish to tell you. I knew I’d lose you if you learned of my deception. Then I lost you anyway.
“But you came back to me, and when I held our child in my arms, I couldn’t deny Trefor his son any longer, or Owain his true father. So I got Owain and went to Pontyrmwr and begged Trefor’s forgiveness and received it, too, although I don’t deserve it.
“Now you know everything, Roslynn-fy-rhosyn. I have no more secrets. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I wanted you to know the whole truth.”
“If Trefor can forgive you, how much easier is it for me?” she replied. “You’ve wronged me very little. It’s I who’ve wronged you, by treating you like another Wimarc, when you are nothing like him.
“I believe you, Madoc, when you say this is the last lie. I know that I can trust you, and I was wrong to fear you.
“So I will never leave you again, husband. Not as long as I live, because not only do I trust you and respect you, I love you. With all my heart, I love you.”
Madoc’s eyes widened, and joy and hope and happiness shone forth as he clutched her to him as if she were the most precious thing in all the world. “I love you, my rose, my blessed, blessed rose. I will always love you.”
Somebody loudly cleared his throat. “To be sure, the lad’s the image of Trefor and now things make a hell of a lot more sense,” Uncle Lloyd declared.
Still on her husband’s lap, her arms entwined about his neck, Roslynn smiled at Trefor standing awkwardly in the hall that had once been his home. “Welcome, Trefor. Welcome! And you, too, Owain,” she said to the quiet little boy looking about him with awe. “You are very welcome, too.”
Madoc called out to Bron, who started as if she’d been in a stupor. “Bron, take Owain to the kitchen. I think he’d probably like some soup or bread.”
“Or honey cakes?” the little lad piped up, his voice clear as the first birdsong of spring.
“Yes, my lord,” Bron replied, holding out her hand and giving the little boy an encouraging smile—and his father, too.
“Thank you, Bron,” Trefor said. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Bron blushed as pink as sweet william as she led the boy away.
“I hope that means there can be peace between you,” Roslynn said, “although if you must make amends with land or sheep or money, Madoc, you should.”
“I want nothing of his,” Trefor said at once.
“Then think of it as coming from Llanpowell,” Roslynn replied. “Repayment for past wrongs, and Ivor’s, too.”
Trefor’s lips curved up in a smile, which made him look more like her handsome husband. “Since the lovely lady of Llanpowell puts it that way, very well.”
“We’ll discuss all that later,” Lloyd declared. “First, a drink to celebrate, eh? But no more braggot or wine for me. Just good honest ale from now on, and not too much. I must stay on my mettle if I’m to help train Mascen.”
Roslynn didn’t want to drink anything, or celebrate, except alone with Madoc. “If you’ll all excuse me, I think I should rest a bit. Madoc, will you—”
Madoc immediately lifted her in his powerful arms. “I’ll not have you swooning on me,” he declared. Then he dropped his voice to a whisper. “And there is more I would say to you alone, my lady.”
“ROSLYNN!” Lady Eloise cried as Madoc carried Roslynn into their chamber. “What’s—?”
“I’m all right. I’m just a little tired and my brawny husband felt the need to demonstrate his strength,” she replied as Madoc, with a glance at the cradle and his sleeping son, set her on the bed.
“Would you leave us, please, Mother?” Roslynn asked. “Father can tell you what’s happened, and who our visitors are.”
Lady Eloise smiled indulgently. “Of course,” she replied, going to the door and closing it quietly behind her.
“What did you want to tell me?” Roslynn asked as her husband leaned over the cradle and grinned at his son.
Madoc left the baby and came to sit beside her, taking her hands in his, his expression gravely serious. “Roslynn, I will give you the same promise I made to my brother today. On my honor—such as it is, after all that I’ve done—I will never lie to you again, about anything.”
She smiled at him, her eyes bright with love, and affection and trust. “I have no need for promises, Madoc ap Gruffydd, lord of Llanpowell. I believe you. I trust you. I love you.”
“And there is one thing above all you must always believe, Roslynn-fy-rhosyn,” he said as he wrapped his arms about her. “I love you. I love you with all my heart, and I will always be truthful and faithful to you for as long as I live.”
“As I love you, Madoc ap Gruffydd, and I will always be truthful and faithful for as long as I live.”
“Then I have all that a man could ask for,” Madoc murmured as he drew her to him.
“And I am as happy and contented as any woman could ever be,” Roslynn whispered as she lifted her face for his kiss. “Madoc-fy-cariad.”
He smiled as he caressed her cheek and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips. “Madoc-my-lover,” he repeated. “I like that.”
“I asked Bron for the right words.”
“Thank God you didn’t ask Uncle Lloyd,” he said, laughing softly as he held her close.
And little Mascen ap Madoc ap Gruffydd, sheltered and surrounded by their love, slumbered peacefully on.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-2616-0
THE WARLORD’S BRIDE
Copyright © 2009 by Margaret Wilkins
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