could easily imagine how difficult it was for Caradoc if Cordelia blamed him for the breech between the brothers.
And then she had arrived, and made things worse.
She had not seen Cordelia today. Likely the gathering of sheep was nothing new to her, so she had taken herself elsewhere, perhaps purposefully avoiding her future sister-in-law.
Ganore was certainly giving Fiona a wide berth. As soon as she had set foot in the hall this morning, Ganore had marched out the door leading to the kitchen.
Well, she was happier out of their hostile presence, too.
“Mistress?”
Fiona came out of her reverie and realized Rhonwen was looking very serious and very worried. “What is it?”
“Ganore loves Cordelia like a daughter and believes everything she does is perfection. Ganore leads the other servants by the nose, and I fear she has taken a dislike to you.”
Fiona smiled to put the girl at ease. “I know, and I will deal with Ganore.”
Somehow .
“She would have taken a dislike to any woman not Welsh born and bred,” Rhonwen continued. “A few Norman lords brought their daughters here, and that was a disaster. The Welsh ones she would fawn and fuss over. Lord Caradoc mostly ignored them all until their fathers took them away.”
She had thought Caradoc’s claim that there had been others seeking his hand in marriage an exaggeration to assuage his pride, but apparently it was not.
Yet why, if this were so, would Caradoc want her ?
Because as time passed he must have gotten more desperate and more in need of money to pay his debts.
As this thought rankled in her bosom, Rhonwen suddenly straightened and looked up the hill. “They’re coming.”
Fiona followed her gaze, and in the distance saw what had to be a flock of sheep and lambs and rams rushing down the slope like a wide, white waterfall. Behind and to the east was a line of men, and between them and the sheep rushed the dogs. She scanned the men for a familiar face and dark wild hair, and finally spotted Caradoc in the middle of the top line, with Dafydd beside him.
The thunder of her excited heartbeat was nearly drowned by the thunder of the approaching flock, but not quite.
Even dressed in the same simple tunic and breeches as the others, Caradoc was clearly a lord among them. Everything about him proclaimed it: his bearing, his commanding mien, the way everybody’s gaze would drift toward him.
To think that tomorrow, she was going to be this man’s bride. After their wedding night, she would be his legal wife, and no man could come between them.
Yet it was not the legality of it or the pride of being a lord’s wife that thrilled her as he came closer. It was the inward image she had of being in his powerful arms, making love.
Surely then the memory of Iain’s lustful embrace would be forever purged, and her shame likewise.
She watched with silent fascination as the flock came closer. The dogs barked and yipped and raced about chasing any sheep who looked to break back through the line. The bleating of the sheep mingled with the dogs and the calls of the men, for sometimes, a sheep did manage to break free. Then, with a bark that sounded like a canine curse, one of the dogs rushed after it and herded it back.
Caradoc was so deep in discussion with Dafydd, he did not notice her. Of course, he did not know she was going to be there, so there was no need for her to feel disappointed.
A few of the men spotted her, and the word went up the line. Caradoc looked in her direction, but he didn’t indicate in any way that he saw her.
Well, what had she expected? That he would cheerfully wave and call out her name?
As for the other men, whenever they looked her way, they seemed perplexed, clearly wondering what she was doing there.
Fiona and Rhonwen jumped down from the wall as the sheep were herded into the pen. The animals milled about, annoyed at being compelled to leave their pasture, and sounding like querulous old women disturbed after a nap.
And then she had arrived, and made things worse.
She had not seen Cordelia today. Likely the gathering of sheep was nothing new to her, so she had taken herself elsewhere, perhaps purposefully avoiding her future sister-in-law.
Ganore was certainly giving Fiona a wide berth. As soon as she had set foot in the hall this morning, Ganore had marched out the door leading to the kitchen.
Well, she was happier out of their hostile presence, too.
“Mistress?”
Fiona came out of her reverie and realized Rhonwen was looking very serious and very worried. “What is it?”
“Ganore loves Cordelia like a daughter and believes everything she does is perfection. Ganore leads the other servants by the nose, and I fear she has taken a dislike to you.”
Fiona smiled to put the girl at ease. “I know, and I will deal with Ganore.”
Somehow .
“She would have taken a dislike to any woman not Welsh born and bred,” Rhonwen continued. “A few Norman lords brought their daughters here, and that was a disaster. The Welsh ones she would fawn and fuss over. Lord Caradoc mostly ignored them all until their fathers took them away.”
She had thought Caradoc’s claim that there had been others seeking his hand in marriage an exaggeration to assuage his pride, but apparently it was not.
Yet why, if this were so, would Caradoc want her ?
Because as time passed he must have gotten more desperate and more in need of money to pay his debts.
As this thought rankled in her bosom, Rhonwen suddenly straightened and looked up the hill. “They’re coming.”
Fiona followed her gaze, and in the distance saw what had to be a flock of sheep and lambs and rams rushing down the slope like a wide, white waterfall. Behind and to the east was a line of men, and between them and the sheep rushed the dogs. She scanned the men for a familiar face and dark wild hair, and finally spotted Caradoc in the middle of the top line, with Dafydd beside him.
The thunder of her excited heartbeat was nearly drowned by the thunder of the approaching flock, but not quite.
Even dressed in the same simple tunic and breeches as the others, Caradoc was clearly a lord among them. Everything about him proclaimed it: his bearing, his commanding mien, the way everybody’s gaze would drift toward him.
To think that tomorrow, she was going to be this man’s bride. After their wedding night, she would be his legal wife, and no man could come between them.
Yet it was not the legality of it or the pride of being a lord’s wife that thrilled her as he came closer. It was the inward image she had of being in his powerful arms, making love.
Surely then the memory of Iain’s lustful embrace would be forever purged, and her shame likewise.
She watched with silent fascination as the flock came closer. The dogs barked and yipped and raced about chasing any sheep who looked to break back through the line. The bleating of the sheep mingled with the dogs and the calls of the men, for sometimes, a sheep did manage to break free. Then, with a bark that sounded like a canine curse, one of the dogs rushed after it and herded it back.
Caradoc was so deep in discussion with Dafydd, he did not notice her. Of course, he did not know she was going to be there, so there was no need for her to feel disappointed.
A few of the men spotted her, and the word went up the line. Caradoc looked in her direction, but he didn’t indicate in any way that he saw her.
Well, what had she expected? That he would cheerfully wave and call out her name?
As for the other men, whenever they looked her way, they seemed perplexed, clearly wondering what she was doing there.
Fiona and Rhonwen jumped down from the wall as the sheep were herded into the pen. The animals milled about, annoyed at being compelled to leave their pasture, and sounding like querulous old women disturbed after a nap.
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