The Warlord's Bride. Margaret Moore

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      Instead, she gave him a smile as condescending as his own. “Poor man, to lose such a model of a wife. But surely you don’t begrudge Lord Madoc another chance for happiness in marriage, especially since it means a powerful alliance and wealth, too?”

      She caught a flash of annoyance in the steward’s eyes, although it was quickly replaced with another patronizing smile. “Indeed, my lady, some would consider your arrival most fortunate.”

      But not this man.

      Yet perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. He was Welsh, and she was not, and his animosity could be based on no more than that.

      Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she said with cool politeness, “Since I don’t wish to upset your master in any way, we had best be on our way.”

      

      “WHATEVER IVOR SAYS, never you fear about going against Madoc, my lady,” Lloyd assured her, trotting to keep up with her brisk pace as they went out the gate. “My nephew’s a bit stubborn and gruff sometimes, but he’d never hurt a woman. Never hurts anybody, except in self-defense or a tournament and then, God grant you, he’s something to see.”

      Lloyd’s words might have assuaged her fears, was she not well aware that pain could also be inflicted with a look or a word or a gesture. It didn’t have to be slaps or blows.

      “No need to worry about how Madoc will treat you, my lady,” Lloyd persisted. “A soft heart for the women, him. And don’t be troubling yourself about Ivor. He’s got a grudge against Normans, you see, not just you in particular.”

      So, it was as she’d suspected, and she was glad she hadn’t sounded as offended as she’d felt.

      “Ivor can be like an old mother hen, too, the way he fusses. But he wants Madoc to be happy, as do we all, so if Madoc wants you, Ivor’ll come round in time and so will everyone else who thinks it’s a mistake.”

      She wondered if she should give Lord Madoc’s uncle an indication of the unlikely possibility of a marriage, at least enough to warn him that the union he seemed so keen to promote was by no means certain.

      “Unless I’m losing my capabilities, I’m sure Madoc does want you,” Lloyd continued so enthusiastically, it suddenly seemed a shame to ruin his expectations. “Ever since Gwendolyn died, he’s had women chasing him and men trying to marry him off to their daughters or sisters, but he’s never had that gleam in his eyes he gets when he looks at you, my lady.”

      This was surely empty flattery. She hadn’t noticed any special gleam in Lord Madoc’s eyes when he looked at her.

      Haven’t you? a small, hopeful voice whispered. Haven’t you felt his desire calling to your own?

      No, she had not. She must not. To listen to the urges of her body was folly.

      Lloyd led her along a path that skirted the village at the south end of the castle, sparing her the necessity of walking through the market square, where more people would no doubt stop and stare at her. Whether he had done so on purpose or not, she wasn’t sure, but she was grateful nonetheless.

      The narrow river ran between banks of mossy red stones. A small, crooked wharf had been built close to the village and low-drafted boats were tied there or pulled up on the bank close by. Across the river was a forest of willow, ash and oak, pine and alders, so close together it was as if the trees were competing to see which one could reach the river first.

      Farther downstream she could hear the happy shouts of children at play and the occasional sharp reprimand of a mother. The language was Welsh, the tone universal.

      “Ah, like heaven itself, isn’t it?” Lloyd said with a sigh as they walked around a curve of the bank, so they were out of sight of the village, if not the high outer walls of the castle.

      He pointed at the grove of leafy alders ahead. “I told you it was a pretty spot.”

      “It is indeed,” she agreed, admiring the rugged beauty of the trees, rocks and river, with the rise of the mountain behind.

      Then they entered the grove, and Roslynn’s jaw dropped. A man was rising from the river—a completely naked man. His back to them, he stretched his long, powerful arms over his head as if he was worshipping the sun. Water glistened on his muscular torso, while his black, waving hair spread over his broad, powerful shoulders as he shook himself, like a great bear.

      The Bear of Brecon.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      BLUSHING WITH embarrassment, hot with indignation, Roslynn stumbled backward, almost tripping on her skirts. She immediately gathered them in her hands and walked swiftly away, the need to maintain some dignity the only thing preventing her from breaking into a run.

      Did Madoc ap Gruffydd think that she would be so overwhelmed by lust at the sight of his magnificent body that she would fall into his arms, begging to be his bride? Or had seduction been his aim, whether or not they wed? Had all his previous talk of honor been a lie after all?

      Had she been deceived again?

      “My lady!”

      She paid no heed to Lord Madoc’s uncle, nor did she slacken her pace. He must have been in on this…this disgusting exhibition, and here she’d been thinking him a kindly old man, who was perhaps a little too keen on his nephew remarrying and overly fond of drink.

      “My lady, please! Stop and let me explain!” Lloyd called, panting.

      He sounded as if he could scarcely draw breath, and while she didn’t think any explanation could ever excuse what had just happened, she would not have him fall ill, no matter what he’d done.

      As she waited, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently, Lloyd came to a stop, breathing hard, his hand on his chest. “No need to rush off so, my lady! An accident, is all.”

      So he said, but the laughter in his eyes betrayed him.

      “Hear this,” she said. “This is the second time you’ve played me for a fool, and it will be the last. And if you and your nephew think seeing him naked is going to make me more keen to marry him, you’re wrong. Wimarc de Werre was as handsome as any maiden’s dream and he was the most evil, cruel, corrupt man in England. I will never again be swayed by such considerations.”

      “Madoc had no hand in this, I promise you!” Lloyd protested, apparently aghast. “It was all my doing.”

      She imperiously raised a brow. “He didn’t send you to bring me to the river so that I could see his exposed magnificence, such as it is?”

      “No. It was all my own idea, my lady. He came home hot and sweaty and needed a wash, so I suggested the river and I thought you…” He paused and took a deep breath. “Look you, my lady, he’s been alone too long. He needs a wife, my lady, and he likes you.”

      “No doubt my dowry won’t come amiss, either.”

      “I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be welcome, but money or not, I’ve never seen him look at a woman the way he looks at you. And a woman could do a lot worse than my nephew. You’ve got to admit, he’s СКАЧАТЬ