his head. “Giles, you will never change. We both know where your brains reside.”
“Aye. How long has it been, Raymond? Is that why your temper is so short?” Giles speared a piece of meat and eyed it as though it were a tantalizing morsel of peacock, instead of tough, cold mutton.
Raymond stared at his friend. From habit his fingers tightened around his dagger hilt. Giles could needle him like no one else. Except perhaps Alonso. “Methinks you know me not at all, sir. Shall I bemoan my sad lack of romantic exploits and accept the offers of your leftovers? Or should we parley with these barbarians and rescue my hound in proper form?”
“I believe the latter would be for the best, my lord,” Giles said with surprising primness. He actually sniffed, giving Raymond some small satisfaction.
“There is one other thing….” Giles began.
“Aye?” Raymond leaned down and set the toppled bench back on its feet with a loud crack.
“Her uncle is Talyessin.” Giles sucked his teeth.
“So? Wales is full of Talyessins.”
“The Talyessin.”
Raymond blinked as this information penetrated. He had not been privy to the details of his late brother’s engagement. At the time he had been profoundly absorbed in more important concerns, namely, staying alive on a battlefield in France.
The Talyessin. A mighty Welsh lord, maneuvering himself from the north to rule the whole of Wales. His kinsmen’s expert archers had left Raymond with the near-fatal thigh wound that had cost him a full summer of recovery. The stench of the infection had kept Meribel away from him, had sent her looking for other, prettier amusements. He still favored that leg.
“Does he approve of this match, or is this an independent scheme of Morgan’s?” Raymond knew he could not escape the marriage, if backed to the wall by both of the powerful Welshmen. Not alone, and not with his prized dog in their hands. Men far greater than he, condemned to death, had purchased their very lives with the likes of Hamfast.
“He agrees with Lord Morgan, that they are well served by persuading you to form an alliance.” Giles wiped the grease from his eating dagger with the hem of his surcoat.
“An alliance based upon treachery. It goes against my grain. But, there is the happy thought that my righteous lord brother would find my new domestic arrangements intolerable.” Raymond rubbed the carved stone head of a knight, sitting on the chessboard he’d had built into the table, and sighed. “I will do it. But if this girl causes any trouble, back she goes.”
“Of course.” Giles grinned. “But she’ll be butter in your hands, I have no doubt.”
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come!” Raymond frowned. What now?
His cousin-by-marriage, Blanche, peeked into the solar. As ever, her hair was modestly hidden beneath her head cloth. She wore an unadorned kirtle of russet wool, which lent her graceful form more elegance than any amount of finery.
“Forgive me, my lord, I did not know you were occupied.” Blanche curtsied deeply and immediately turned to leave.
“A moment, lady.” She lifted her head and Raymond could see in her silver-grey eyes that she was nervous before him. A penniless widow, Blanche and her daughter had been thrust into his care by her mother-in-law, his aunt Clarisse. A cunning old witch if ever he knew one. He would try to put Blanche at ease.
“Please, be seated.” Raymond indicated his own place by the fire. She hesitated, then warily sat in the heavy oak chair. Giles followed her every move with his smoldering gaze.
“Tell me what brings you here. I am at your service.” Raymond did not attempt a smile, but he did speak softly and avoided towering over her.
“Ah, well, ’tis but a small matter, perhaps best left for another time.” She clutched the arms of the chair, as if readying herself to flee. As Raymond expected, the gallant Giles filled a cup with the unwatered wine he’d been drinking, and offered it to her with a courtly bow. Blanche was forced to let go of the chair in order to accept the wine.
Raymond cleared his throat. “Bree, again? She is the only small matter of concern at this keep.” The child was a fair delight, but a constant vexation to her mother, and an endless worry to him. At times he wondered if Bree was a changeling. For all her guileless expression, the amount of trouble she caused made it more than a casual jest.
As if Blanche read his thoughts, she averted her gaze.
Raymond hastened to reassure her. “Never mind. As you say, let us speak of it later. In truth, I wish to have your opinion on the subject under discussion when you arrived.”
Blanche looked up at him expectantly, her clear eyes reflecting a keen intelligence.
“Sir Giles believes I should marry again.” Raymond watched in alarm as the color drained from her face. Giles jumped to retrieve her goblet as it slipped from her fingers. “I beg your pardon, Madame. I did not mean that you were the intended, er, bride.” Raymond almost said “victim,” but resisted the temptation. Sarcasm would not help.
Blanche’s relief that she was not the focus of his intentions was immediately apparent. She took several more sips of wine and revived quickly.
“Explain, Giles.” Raymond waved vaguely in his friend’s direction and gazed into the brazier fire while Giles spoke. He did not enjoy being an object of terror. At least not to women. But all too often that was the case, and why not? They knew he’d been the death of Meribel. And Blanche knew it, too. But whatever she thought of him, he respected her. Anyone who had survived the intrigues of his family deserved as much.
Blanche listened quietly, occasionally murmuring an affirmation. Giles used the opportunity to full advantage. He sat beside her and took small liberties, touching her hand or leaning a bit too close. The young woman was visibly affected, for she started and blushed at each contact.
“I believe Lady Blanche understands, now,” Raymond interrupted Giles. “What say you, Madame?” He did not desire her opinion so much as he did her participation, so she might begin to feel a part of his household. If Giles would but leave her in peace.
“Though celibacy is best,” she began, throwing an arch look to Giles, “marriage is a necessary and proper state, for ’tis part of the divine plan. Of course in this instance there are many advantages, the safe return of Hamfast not the least of them. But have you considered the bride’s willingness, or lack thereof? Has she freely consented, or is she being forced?” Blanche took a deeper swallow from her goblet.
“What difference does it make?” Raymond rubbed his upper lip with the knuckle of one finger. He did not want to be reminded of the possibility of a reluctant bride. “As you yourself point out, she is among the least of the advantages.”
Fresh color flooded Blanche’s cheeks, not entirely due to the imported Rhenish wine, Raymond decided.
“You will feel the difference, my lord. Every day.” She glanced at Giles. “And mayhap every night,” she added boldly, downing the last of her drink.
“I shall suit myself, whatever her position,” Raymond said.
“My
