Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
England, 1214
Surrounded by wooden chests packed with dower goods, two young women faced each other in the chamber they once shared. One was dark-haired and dressed in soft, doe-brown wool. The other, fair and lovely, wore her finest gown of green silk, for this was her wedding day.
“You don’t have to marry him, Mavis,” Tamsin said to her beloved cousin. “Whatever your father’s told you, or however he’s threatened you, you have the right to refuse. Neither he, nor the church, nor the law can force you to marry against your will. Rheged and I will be happy to offer you sanctuary or take you anywhere—”
“No, please, that won’t be necessary,” Mavis interrupted, smiling as she shook her head. Tamsin hadn’t been in the solar when her father had proposed the marriage between his daughter and Sir Roland of Dunborough. Because she had, Mavis spoke with confidence. “I gave my consent to marry freely, Tamsin, and was pleased to do so. I think you’re wrong about Sir Roland. I know what his father and brother were like, but he’s not the same.”
“How can you be certain?” Tamsin asked. “You’ve only just met him.”
“When we were in the solar with my father, Sir Roland asked me if I would marry him. He gave me the choice, Tamsin, and I’m certain he would have released me from any agreement my father had made if I had requested it. More than that, he wasn’t looking at me like a merchant wondering if he’d made a good bargain, or with triumph, as if he’d won a prize. He was almost...wistful.”
“Wistful?” Tamsin repeated warily. “Sir Roland?”
“Whatever one chooses to call it, I saw something that makes me certain he’s not like any other man I’ve ever met, and that we can be happy. Oh, Tamsin, I realize that to most people he appears hard and cold and arrogant, but when we were in Father’s solar, he wasn’t arrogant or vain. He was kind, even gentle—very different from the way he is in the hall and vastly different from his father and brother.”
“Have you ever been alone with him?”
Mavis couldn’t meet her cousin’s unwavering gaze. “No, we’ve never been alone.”
That wasn’t precisely true, but the one time she had been alone with Roland, he hadn’t seen her. He’d been in the stable, talking to his horse in a low, soothing voice, and she’d been hiding.
She had never told anyone about that early morning when she’d been preparing to flee rather than marry at her father’s command. That memory was a sweet thing, a secret only she knew, and she didn’t want to share it. Nor, did she think, would Sir Roland be pleased if he learned that she’d told anyone he talked to his horse.
Tamsin took her cousin’s hands in hers and held them tight as her gaze searched Mavis’s face. “You met Roland’s father twice and elder brother only once, and here, where they were on what passed for their best behavior. My husband’s spent time at their castle. He knows them better, Mavis, and he told me how cruel Sir Blane was to everyone, including his sons. He laughed when Broderick and Gerrard mocked Roland, and called Roland a host of terrible names when he wouldn’t strike back.”
“But he didn’t strike back.”
“That’s why Rheged considers him the best of the family. But he can fight, too. Rheged saw him in a melee, and while his twin brother fought boldly, almost joyfully, Roland fights to win.”
“Surely there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Not in battle, I suppose. Yet there is more to consider. Sir Blane openly encouraged the rivalries between his sons, and their animosity. He wouldn’t even say which one of the twins, Roland or Gerrard, was born first. That way they would never know who would have the right to inherit should something happen to Broderick.” Tamsin looked down a moment before continuing, obviously still dismayed by what she’d done, even though she’d acted to save the man she loved. “As it did.”
“Someone must have known, though,” Mavis protested, and hopefully, turning her cousin’s thoughts from Broderick’s death. “A secret like that couldn’t be kept in a large household.”
“In that one it could, for their mother died in childbirth and the midwife slipped on the steps after attending to her. She died of a broken neck. Some say Sir Blane killed her just to keep the secret, and there are plenty who believe it. Even if it was an accident, if people can believe such a rumor, what does that tell you about the family?”
Mavis pulled her hands free. “There are always rumors about noblemen, and I’m well aware that Sir Blane could be cruel.”
“Cruel and lustful. You saw for yourself how Sir Blane and Broderick treated women. What if Roland is the same?”
Mavis flushed, for she’d more than seen how Sir Blane and Broderick treated women. The memory of Broderick’s lewd, leering threats were fresh, and the mention of his name alone was enough to fill her with disgust. Nevertheless, she held to her first impression of his brother Roland. “I’m sure Roland’s a better man than his father and brothers. You fell in love with your husband quickly, didn’t you? Just as you thought you could be happy with Rheged shortly after meeting him, I believe I can be happy with Roland. Otherwise, I would have refused the betrothal, no matter what my father ordered, or any threats he made.”
“Then I suppose I must trust your judgment,” Tamsin said with a wry, yet sorrowful, little smile, “but if—”
A furious pounding rattled the chamber door. “My lady!” young Charlie called on the other side. “They’re waiting for you in the chapel!”
“We’re coming!” Tamsin replied before she hurriedly embraced her cousin. “Promise me that if you’re wrong about Roland, if he makes you unhappy or hurts you in any way, you’ll come to us at Cwm Bron. There’ll be no recriminations, no censure, from me or anyone else.”
“I will,” Mavis vowed, telling herself she was right about Sir Roland of Dunborough, so there would be no need.
* * *
Sir Roland stood straight as a lance as he awaited his bride in the chapel of Castle DeLac. He kept his expression stoic and impassive, although he had never been so anxious in his life. He could all too easily believe that the bride might not appear. He was, after all, his father’s son, and that alone would be enough to scare a woman away, even if she’d agreed when the marriage had first been proposed.
Indeed, he’d more than half expected her to refuse. Yet she’d readily accepted, and, even more surprising, had looked at him not as if considering only his title and his wealth, but as if she’d like to be his friend.
Never in all his life had anyone, male or female, sought his friendship. Nor had he sought anyone else’s, not since he was a small boy. He had learned early that to seek affection from any creature was to make himself open to loss
