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.
Tamsin and Rheged warily approached the man standing in the center of the courtyard beside a magnificent black stallion. The fellow’s gaze wandered over the keep and the walls until he saw th
em. After that Sir Roland waited as motionless as one of the statues in a churchyard, and his horse was just as still.
As they drew nearer, the man’s features became clearer. Tamsin had thought Rheged’s visage grim and hard, but it was only because she hadn’t met Roland of Dunborough. Tall as Rheged, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, his hair dark, as were his hooded eyes, Roland looked as if he had never smiled in his life and never would.
Which was a pity, she thought, for otherwise he was a handsome man who looked nothing like his older brother.
“Greetings, Sir Roland,” Rheged said when they reached him. “My lady, this is Sir Roland of Dunborough. Sir Roland, this is Lady Thomasina, my wife.”
He spoke the last word fiercely, as if challenging the man to refute it.
Roland did not. He ran a gaze over Tamsin that was so lacking any emotion or expression Tamsin shivered.
“My lady, a pleasure. My lord, we meet again,” Roland said, his voice deep and just as lacking in emotion. “I received word of my brother’s death from Lord DeLac. He implied there was some...irregularity...during a trial by combat.”
“Your brother was trying to kill my wife until she stopped him with a dagger he’d concealed in his sword belt,” Rheged replied bluntly.
“He was about to kill Sir Rheged, who was in no condition to fight that day, as your brother well knew, and I tried to stop him,” Tamsin added.
Roland sniffed with disdain and for a terrible moment, Tamsin feared he was going to accuse them both of murder, until Roland said, “I could expect no better from that blackguard.”
Rheged had obviously been right—there was no love lost between Sir Blane’s sons.
“He also brutally attacked my overlord, Sir Algar, without warning or just cause. The wound was mortal,” Rheged said.
“Ah, yes. I was sorry to hear of that. As to my brother’s end...” He turned to Tamsin and regarded her steadily. “For that, my lady, I thank you.”
Because he was now the lord of their father’s demesne, if he was the elder twin after all? Or because he hadn’t loved his brother?
She would well believe Roland of Dunborough did not, and never could, love anybody.
“So, are you the next in line, or is it Gerrard?” Rheged asked.
“According to my father’s will, I entered the world first. Is Broderick’s grave marked?”
Tamsin and Rheged exchanged looks. “We’ll have a stone carved.”
“Spare yourself the expense. Let him lie unmarked.”
Given that vengeance for his brother’s death was obviously not Roland’s reason for coming to Cwm Bron, and although she would rather not see much more of the man, courtesy demanded that she offer any nobleman the hospitality of the household. “Would you care to join us in the hall, my lord?”
Even as she asked the question, the door of the kitchen opened and Foster, covered in flour, came reeling out wielding a loaf of bread like a weapon. He paused, stared at them a moment, then went reeling back inside.
One corner of Roland’s mouth lifted in what might have been the beginning of a smile. “I think not.” His grim expression returned. “I came here to assure myself that my brother’s body would be treated as it deserved, and to thank you for ridding the world of him. He was a villain from the time he could talk. I won’t mourn Broderick, and neither should anyone else.”
A great weight seemed to lift from Tamsin, and she could see that Rheged was relieved, too.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, “for easing my mind.”
“I gather there has also been some animosity between Lord DeLac and you both over the matter of your betrothal to my father, and then my brother, my lady,” Roland continued. “That has also been...” Again his lip lifted ever so slightly. “Dealt with.”
Another chill that had nothing to do with the air seemed to blow over Tamsin. “How?”
The man raised an eyebrow.
She swallowed and forced herself to speak with more courtesy. “I beg your pardon for my blunt question, but may we know how the matter has been resolved to your satisfaction? After all, it has caused us a great deal of trouble.”
“Lady Mavis and I are to marry.”
Mavis—merry, laughing, pretty Mavis—wed to this...this effigy? “Has she given her consent?”
A little furrow of puzzlement appeared between Roland’s dark eyebrows.
“My lord, I hope you’ll make sure she’s willing before you consider the betrothal certain. If she’s not, I pray you’ll do the honorable thing and allow her to refuse.”
“I have no wish to force a marriage,” Roland replied, much to Tamsin’s relief. “I was there when her father told her of the betrothal and she made no objection.”
Tamsin imagined Mavis standing in her father’s solar, with her father and especially this Roland, with those cold, dark eyes, looking at her. Mavis had no doubt been too intimidated to speak freely. Fortunately the marriage hadn’t happened yet, so there was still time for Mavis to object.
“But if you discover she doesn’t want to be your bride,” Tamsin persisted despite his unfriendly mien, “you will release her?”
The man drew himself up even straighter, although she would have thought that impossible. “My lady, while I appreciate your concern for your cousin’s feelings, I believe that whatever happens between that lady and me is our business, not yours. Now, since I’ve obtained the information I sought, I shall go.” He bowed stiffly. “Farewell, my lord, my lady. I hope you will do us the honor of attending the wedding when the time comes.”
“Of course, my lord,” Tamsin replied, silently adding, If it ever does.
Roland didn’t wait for them to respond before he mounted his midnight-black stallion and rode out the gates.
As the sound of his horse’s hoofbeats disappeared in the distance, Tamsin turned to Rheged and regarded him with dismay. “Mavis betrothed to that man! We must stop it!”
To her even greater dismay, Rheged didn’t seem as convinced of this as he should be.
“I’m not certain it’s our place to interfere.”
“You interfered in my betrothal,” she reminded him.
“Because, my lady, I was already in love with you.”
She smiled, but only for a moment. “I love Mavis like a sister. We must help her!”
“You heard him. She’s given her consent.”
“She was probably forced, as I was forced. Or too frightened to refuse with that...that gargoyle glaring at her. And he’s from that brood of vipers.”
“I shouldn’t have included Roland in that description. Of all Blane’s sons, he was the only one who was never cruel. Stern, I grant you, and cold, but not vicious or a wastrel, like Gerrard, and compared to Broderick, he’s a saint. And it should also be a comfort to know that from what I’ve heard about Roland, although he’s had a mistress or two, your cousin need not fear he’ll have a slew of lovers and illegitimate children.”
“But to think of her married to that man!”
“Since we’re to go to the wedding, you can surely arrange a few moments alone with her before the ceremony to assure yourself she truly wants to marry him, or to offer her sanctuary if she does not. After all, she’s my cousin, too, now. And,” he added with a smile, “since my wife has brought me a considerable dowry, I should have some influence at court, as well.”
“I hadn’t thought of that!” She sighed as he embraced her and held her close. “I have another reason to bless Algar.” She smiled up at him. “And you. Indeed I feel so blessed, it seems greedy to want more, and yet I do.”
“What is it you’d like, Tamsin?” he asked as he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Tell me, and I’ll do my best to get it for your wedding present.”
“I hope you will do your utmost, husband, because what I want is a child. Our child.”
He laughed softly. “Now, that is a request I’ll be most happy to attempt to fulfill.” Then he drew back and she was surprised to see how serious he
’d become. “I do foresee one difficulty, love of my heart. Once our child is born, you’ll be so busy tending it and running the household, I’ll hardly ever see you.”
“Is that all?” she chided with a look full of love before giving him another tender kiss. “I promise you, my lord, my love, that I’ll always have time for you. And we’ll always be alone in bed.”
Laughing softly, arm in arm, they took a moment to look up at the stars before they returned to the hall and all the household of Cwm Bron celebrating there.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460335055
CASTLE OF THE WOLF
Copyright © 2014 by Margaret Wilkins
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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