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Trev’s mouth fell open.

“Meg likes me only insofar as she thinks I’d make a good husband for her mistress,” Blaidd clarified. He wondered how much he should tell Trev, then decided that Meg might say something to his squire about her views if she thought it would help her cause. “She wasn’t speaking about Lady Laelia, either. She thinks I should marry Lady Rebecca.”

Trev frowned. “But Lady Rebecca’s crippled.”

Blaidd got to his feet and looked down at the young man with an expression Trev had never seen before. “I see I’ll also have to lecture you on how ignorant it is to judge a person by such things.”

Blaidd turned on his heel and headed to the table across the room. He poured some water into a goblet there, using the activity to get his temper back under control. The lad was only saying what other people would, expressing the surprise they would feel about his choice. He should be able to subdue his temper better. After all, he wasn’t new to prejudice. Men at court had whispered unflattering things about Welshmen behind his back. Some still did, although never the ones he’d faced in a tournament.

But this was different, because they would be talking about Becca.

He went back to the bed and handed the goblet to Trev. “Sip, don’t gulp,” he cautioned.

As the boy did as he was told, Blaidd said, “Lady Rebecca may not be as outwardly beautiful as her sister, but she has many other qualities. She’s good and clever and kind, plays the harp like an angel, runs this castle as well as either of our mothers could and…” He was, perhaps, revealing too much of his affection for her too soon. “You should respect and admire her for those things, even if she walks with a limp.”

“I do admire and respect her—a great deal,” Trev said as he set the goblet down on the small table beside the bed. Between the bucket and the water, he was already looking much better. “I didn’t realize you liked her so much, that’s all.”

Blaidd didn’t answer as he went to back to the larger table and pulled a linen cover off a tray. The aroma of fresh bread wafted toward Trev. “Can you eat anything?”

“I don’t know,” he answered warily. “What do you think?”

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve been dead drunk. Once was enough for me—and I trust it will be for you, too. That’s hardly a way to earn respect.”

Trev eyed the loaf. “Maybe a bite will help settle my stomach.”

Blaidd nodded and brought the tray to him. As the lad broke off a piece and began to nibble as delicately as any novice nun, Blaidd settled back down on the end of the bed. “Now, which lecture will it be first—
the folly of sleeping with whores, or the stupidity of judging a person by outward appearances?”

Trev sighed. It was going to be a long morning.

 

Smiling at the contrariness of life, Becca hummed softly to herself as she drew out the pretty blue velvet gown her father had given her last Christmastide. Now that she didn’t have to dress well to attract a man’s notice, she wanted to.

“You’re very cheerful this morning,” Laelia noted as Meg tied the lacings at the back of her own emerald-green-and-gold damask gown.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Becca answered brightly, which was true. The sun shone like a day in Eden, the air was warm, the scent of herbs from the kitchen garden wafted in their window—and best of all, Blaidd Morgan liked her. He liked her better than Laelia. He liked her enough to kiss her with passion and desire. He liked her enough to want to court her, and perhaps—oh, joyous, exciting thought—perhaps soon his affection would turn into love.

She’d lain awake for hours after she’d returned last night and found, to her relief, that Laelia was already fast asleep. She’d snuggled under the covers and remembered his kisses, his embrace, the excitement, the need, and all the words he’d said. She couldn’t have been happier if her leg had been miraculously made normal again.

She looked back at the dress and frowned. If she didn’t want to arouse any suspicions, she shouldn’t act as if anything was different, or dress in a way that
would cause people to wonder what had changed. Besides, riding was definitely in order today and the velvet dress wouldn’t do for that.

“I should think you’d be too tired to be cheerful after you were so late coming to bed last night,” Laelia said.

Becca glanced at her and her gaze met Meg’s, whose eyes were wide with barely suppressed curiosity. “Yes, well, I had to remind the cook to get some eels. Father was saying how much he’d relish a dish today.”

That wasn’t strictly a lie. She had reminded Rowan about the eels, but before the evening meal.

When she went to return the blue gown to the chest, Laelia caught sight of it. “Are you finally going to dress like a lady today?”

“I thought I noticed a tear, that’s all. Fortunately, I was wrong.” Becca replaced it and pulled out her dark blue gown. It was made of light wool, and while certainly not as luxurious as the velvet, it was pretty in its own way, and fit to perfection.

“Then I suppose it’s also too much to hope that you’ll act more like a lady today and not decide to joust, or wield a blade?” Laelia sighed with exasperation as her hands fell limply to her sides. “I know you’re proud of your skill with a bow, Becca, but I don’t know how we’re ever going to find a man who’ll want to marry you if you do masculine things like shoot a bow.”

Laelia walked toward her, and Becca was surprised
to see the sincere concern in her eyes. “I do care about your happiness, Becca. I truly do.”

Becca took hold of her sister’s hands and spoke just as sincerely. “It’s not that I don’t want to be married, Laelia. It’s just that if I
do
marry, I want to be loved, and cherished, and respected. Otherwise, I’d rather not be married at all.”

“I suppose we’re not so very different,” Laelia wistfully replied. “I want to be loved, too, Becca, and for more than my beauty. I think with Sir Blaidd, I may finally have found a man who truly sees beyond that.”

For the first time in her life, Becca realized that she wasn’t the only daughter of Lord Throckton who was judged for one characteristic. She’d always assumed it would be wonderful to be as lovely as her sister, but now she realized beauty could be a curse as much as her own crippled leg.

Yet as sorry as she felt for her sister, she hoped Laelia wouldn’t begrudge her any happiness when she learned about her relationship with Blaidd. After all, Laelia’s beauty gave Laelia an advantage Becca would never possess: a greater chance of finding a loving husband among the many men who came to court her.

Laelia headed for the door without pursuing the subject. “Don’t be late for Mass,” she said before she swept out of the room.

The moment she was gone, Meg stopped tidying the dressing table and turned toward Becca with barely suppressed excitement. Her eyes sparkled and
she clasped her hands expectantly. “Well, my lady?” she whispered, as if she feared somebody might overhear.

Becca suddenly felt shy and embarrassed. “Well, my lady, what?”

Meg took a step toward her, and her eyes shone even more. “Well, Sir Blaidd…that is, did he say…anything?”

How well could Meg keep a secret? Becca wondered. Maybe she already guessed too much. If her father and sister found out what had happened, and from a servant’s gossip…!

Becca forced herself to look stern. “I understand you have forgotten your place. It is not for a servant to discuss her mistress with one of our guests.”

Meg’s face reddened. “I was only trying—”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, did I?”

Meg hung her head. “I’m sorry, my lady.”

“So am I. You could have caused some serious discord with your assumptions, Meg. Need I say, we couldn’t keep a servant who did something like that, could we?”

“N-no, my lady.”

Remorse gnawed at Becca, but she gave no indication that she was anything but annoyed. “If you give me your word you won’t do something so foolish again, I won’t tell my father. This can stay between us. Now go about your duties.”

“Aye, my lady,” Meg murmured before she hurried from the room.

Becca followed after, her steps slow, as she told herself that as much as she regretted upsetting Meg, there’d been no help for it. She couldn’t risk letting Meg’s loose tongue spoil her chance for happiness.

Chapter Ten

O
n the top of the rise, Aderyn Du restlessly shifted. Blaidd tried to steady his mount as he watched Becca gallop across the meadow by the river. She was easily the finest horsewoman Blaidd had ever seen; it was as if she and her horse were one creature.

His competitive spirit and Aderyn Du’s evident yearning to gallop prompted him to kick his heels against his horse’s sides. Down the hill the gelding charged, and soon they were racing across the meadow and drawing close to Becca and her mare.

Becca looked back over her shoulder and spotted them. He thought she might slow, but wasn’t really surprised when she instead let out a whoop of glee and bent over her horse’s neck, urging her on.

With an answering shout, Blaidd dug his heels into Aderyn Du, spurring him forward. His gelding didn’t let him down. The wind whistled past Blaidd’s ears as they flew, and his hair streamed out behind him like a banner in the breeze.

Blaidd laughed as they gained on their quarry. This was just what he’d hoped for.

That morning after breaking the fast, Becca had mentioned going for a ride through the river meadow and the wood upon leaving the high table, and he’d thought he’d finally found an opportunity to be alone with her.

After he’d spent some time boring Laelia with tales of training, he mentioned—with every appearance of remorse—that his gelding needed exercise, preferably a good gallop. As he expected, Laelia was only too happy to stay in the castle. He’d strolled to the stable, saddled his own horse and ridden out as casually as you please. It had taken him some time to find the river meadow, since he hadn’t wanted to ask directions or look as if he had a particular route in mind.

As he’d passed through the village, he’d thought of Hester and what she’d hinted at. Could she really know something important? Perhaps one of Lord Throckton’s men had thought to gain respect and importance by telling her something he’d learned—or only made up.

Becca and her horse suddenly made a hard left turn into the wood, a forest of oak and chestnut and hazel. Blaidd pulled hard on his reins, and Aderyn Du nearly sat back on his haunches before making the turn. In the next moment, they had plunged into the dimmer light filtered through the branches and leaves, moving along a path barely wide enough for horse and rider.

He saw the rump of Becca’s horse disappear down another path and followed—and then couldn’t see
them, or any sign they’d even gone that way. He pulled Aderyn Du to a halt and listened.

He could hear only the birds in the trees and the rustling of branches as a squirrel dashed overhead.

She couldn’t have simply disappeared. Rising in his stirrups, he slowly surveyed the bushes lining the path. He saw a gap in one, with the ends of some branches recently broken. She’d either left the path voluntarily there, or been forced that way. Aderyn Du’s flanks quivered as if he, too, sensed that something was amiss.

Alert, with every sense heightened, Blaidd drew his sword and slipped from the back of his horse.

“I’m quite unarmed, sir knight,” Becca called out from somewhere on the other side of the bushes.

Sighing with relief, he sheathed his blade. “Where are you?”

“Can’t you see me?”

“Obviously not,” he answered, grabbing his horse’s reins and leading him through the break in the bushes. “Are you hiding?”

“Not particularly.”

He looked around, but still didn’t see her. “What does that mean, ‘not particularly?”’

“It means I’m standing where you should be able to see me. Claudia is not so visible.”

Wondering why Becca was being so mysterious, he followed the sound of her voice. “You wish to play a game, do you, my lady? What’s the prize?”

“I wish for us to spend some time together where we won’t be seen,” she replied, closer now and on
his right. “I thought you understood that when I said I’d be riding out today.”

“I hoped that was what you meant. I also hope nobody finds it odd that I decided Aderyn Du needed a good gallop on the same day you went riding.” As quietly as he could, he tied his horse’s rein to a bush and crept forward slowly.

“I go out riding all the time, and even if they think we might encounter one another, they’ll surely believe I’ll treat you as I would anyone else by riding away from you as fast as Claudia will take me,” she answered pertly. “They’d never imagine that I would stop and let you catch me.”

He caught sight of the hem of her gown and lunged. “And so I have,” he said as he pulled her into his arms.

She struggled halfheartedly for a moment. “I made it too easy!” she cried with mock annoyance. “I should have laid down so you wouldn’t see me!”

“What, and get muddy?” he said as she relaxed.

While her arms encircled him, she glanced at the soft ground covered with ancient leaves. “Perhaps not.”

“Definitely not, or what would you tell people when you got back?” he asked as his lips gently brushed over hers.

“That I fell. I do sometimes,” she murmured, enjoying the sensation of being in his arms, and his featherlight kisses.

His mouth trailed along her cheek toward her ear. “Where’s your horse?”

She tilted her head toward the sound of a stream, incidentally presenting the side of her jaw for him to kiss. “There’s a little valley there.”

“Ah. You know this wood well, I see.”

“I’ve spent many an hour here.”

“Alone?”

“Usually.”

He drew back and looked at her with what she was fast coming to think of as his “warrior look.” “Should I be jealous?”

“Absolutely not. I used to come here with Dobbin sometimes to practice my archery.”

Blaidd’s slow smile made her heart pound even harder. “That’s all right, then.”

He kissed her again, passionately—so passionately that she could immediately envision the back of her gown covered in mud.

She regretfully broke away. If she didn’t, she wasn’t sure she would be able to prevent things from going too far. But there could be very serious consequences if she made love with Blaidd Morgan here and now. The first would be that she’d never be able to keep their relationship a secret, because she was quite certain she’d want to spend every waking moment with him, either intimately or not.

“Why don’t you fetch your horse and join me in the gully?” she proposed. “There’s a log there we can sit on. I brought my harp, too. I can play for you, if you’d like.”

He grinned. “I’d like that very much. I won’t be a moment.”

Blaidd was as good as his word, and soon they were seated side by side on a large fallen log, the trunk of an oak.

Becca found it wasn’t nearly so easy to initiate a conversation with him as she’d imagined. For one thing, just the fact that such a man was sitting beside her, such a man who wanted her and kissed her so very thoroughly, was extremely distracting. Plus, he just sat there, smiling at her, as if he’d like to do nothing more than that.

“You know my family. Tell me about yours,” she finally ventured.

“Gladly. Where should I start?”

“Wherever you like.”

“Well, then, I’ll tell you that my father was a shepherd in his boyhood, then a squire, then a knight. His marriage to my mother was not her idea, to put it mildly, but nevertheless they fell in love—passionately so. I have a brother, Kynan, and two sisters, Meridyth and Gwyneth. We generally get along, although there are times we don’t.”

“You all have such unusual names.”

He laughed. “Well, mine is unusual even for the Welsh. It’s not really a name at all.
Blaidd
means ‘wolf’ in my native tongue. My father thought his firstborn son should have a fierce name, you see, and he chose it. Not that I’m complaining,” he added. “My mother was all for Bartholomew.”

“I think Blaidd suits you better,” Becca agreed. She ran a saucy gaze over him. “Between that name and your hair, you’re very fierce indeed.”

He held out a strand of his long dark hair. “You don’t think I should cut it?”

“Not unless you want to,” she answered honestly. “I really can’t imagine you without it, though.”

That brought another slow, seductive smile to his face, and she hastily thought of a question before she melted in a pool of desperate desire. “If your father was a shepherd, how did he ever get to be a squire?”

“Emryss DeLanyea, my father’s overlord, saw his merit and didn’t hold his birth against him. Mind you,” Blaidd continued with a laugh, “Lady Roanna—that’s Emryss’s wife—says my father was so like a little shadow there was nothing else to do but put him to work, so a squire he became.”

“He was very fortunate to have such a kind and generous overlord.”

“Aye, he was. Emryss DeLanyea’s one of the best men I’ve ever met. I hope that when I am in charge of an estate, I can be as fine a leader, as fair a judge and as good a husband as he, and my father, are.”

Becca slipped her hand in his. “I think you will be. You’re very good with your squire—just the right combination of commander and friend, I think.”

He beamed. “You do?”

“Yes, and so does Dobbin.”

“That’s high praise indeed, although I can’t take too much credit. Trev’s a good lad. He’s a bit brash and full of himself and prone to sulk, but that’s a sixteen-year-old boy for you.”

Becca toyed with a lock of his hair. “Were you that way when you were sixteen?” she asked, pictur
ing his face younger, without all the lean angles. His lips likely hadn’t changed much, though, or his wonderful eyes, except for the little crinkles that appeared at their corners when he smiled.

Blaidd gave her a look of mock offense. “Didn’t you know, my lady, I was the greatest sixteen-year-old anybody in Britain had ever seen? Why, I was even going to show Sir Urien a thing or two about swordplay when I first went to his estate to train.” He shook his head at the folly of youth. “The man damn near sliced my arm off, and that was in the first five minutes. I got over myself pretty quickly, I can tell you.”

“I wish I’d been there.”

“What, to see my utter humiliation?”

“To see you at sixteen.” She nestled against his strong shoulder. “I’d wager all the girls were quite enamored of you. No wonder you thought you were something.”

“I’m glad you didn’t see me then, or you’d no doubt still be thinking I’m a vain, spoiled puppy.” He caressed her cheek with his index finger. “What were you like at sixteen? Not vain or spoiled, I’m sure.”

She sighed and looked away. “If you thought I was a shrew the first day you met me, then I’m very glad you didn’t meet me then. I was very bitter.”

“With just cause, I think.”

She shrugged and didn’t meet his gaze. “Laelia can’t help being beautiful any more than I can help being crippled. I know that, but sometimes even now
I forget.” She raised her eyes to look at him. “That’s why I’m hoping to avoid hurting her when she finds out about us.”

He regarded her steadily, and the air about them seemed to tremble with a new tension. “She may be upset, no matter what we do. Are you prepared to accept that?”

She nodded. “I’m not about to give you up because Laelia might be angry. Besides, there are plenty of other men for her.”

Blaidd smiled wryly. “I’m delighted to know I can be replaced so easily.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know that, my darling,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “I’m not that sixteen-year-old peacock anymore. Thank God.”

He slipped his arm about her and drew her to him for a long, soft kiss. Then another, until she felt the passion build to the danger point, and pulled back. “I hope your mother likes me.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m sure she will. And my father, too. And Kynan and the girls.”

Becca smiled wistfully. “I never knew my own mother. She died when I was a babe.”

“I’m sorry.”

Becca shrugged. “It’s my father you should feel sorry for. She was his second wife. Laelia’s mother was his first, and she died giving birth to Laelia. That’s why we don’t look much alike. He married a third time, but she died, too, also in childbirth. That baby—another girl—died, as well. My father once
said God must not want him to have sons, so he would be content with his daughters.” She made a wry little laugh. “Well, Laelia, anyway. I’m harder to appreciate.”

“Not for me,” Blaidd said firmly. “You’re an excellent daughter.”

She couldn’t resist kissing his jaw. “You want sons, I suppose?”

“Yes, and daughters, too, with bright eyes and pink cheeks, who can ride and shoot and play the harp.”

“That seems a long list, sir knight,” she said gravely, although inwardly, she was absolutely delighted. She smiled as she envisioned the children they might have—strong, sturdy, handsome, chivalrous sons who would be welcome in any hall. Bold, happy daughters who didn’t have to hide their opinions and who could walk without limping.

“It is quite a list,” Blaidd agreed, “but I’m hopeful I’ll succeed. That will mostly depend upon the wife I choose, of course. I do have a promising candidate in mind—and in my arms.”

He was such a marvelous, attractive, virile man—and then another thought came to her mind. “Do you…” She took a deep breath. “Do you have any children already?”

“No,” he answered without hesitation. “Or at least, none that I know of. I won’t pretend I haven’t made love to other women, Becca, but so far, none have come forth to claim I got them with child.” He regarded her gravely. “If that should happen, I’ll ac
knowledge any child I was responsible for bringing into the world.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from an honorable man,” she said, stroking his cheek and admiring his honesty, even as she subdued a stab of jealousy for any woman fortunate enough to bear his child.

“Your father seems to have made his peace with a lack of sons,” Blaidd noted. “Many a man would keep trying.”

“He has accepted it, or found it too painful to consider marrying again. I didn’t know my stepmother well, but I think he cared a great deal for her. I know he loved Laelia’s mother very much. He’s told her so many times.”

“And your mother?”

Becca looked away. “Not so much, perhaps. He never speaks of her.”

“Perhaps he loved her most of all, then?” Blaidd proposed. “Maybe he can’t bear to talk about her because of the pain he felt at her loss.”

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