The Scarlet Lion by Elizabeth Chadwick Page B

other has always been mutual, whereas your mother and I…" He let the sentence tail off.
       "She complimented you in her chamber yesterday," Isabelle said, attempting to recover her ground. "She said to me that your love of music has an Irish soul."
       William cocked a sceptical eye. "Did she indeed?"
       "My father had no ear for music and it was one of his worst sins in her eyes. He said it all sounded like cats mating in a cauldron."
       Amusement twitched his lips. "He had a fine sense of humour to compensate though—not that I knew him well, but on the few occasions we did meet, he was good company." He made the final knot in the prayer beads and, setting them aside on the coffer, gave her his full attention. "I suppose your mother and I have the pleasure of music in common. God knows, I've been a courtier for long enough. If I cannot weave my way through my own family concerns and keep my hide intact, then I deserve to be flayed."
       She laid her palm against his cheek. "I know your tolerance has been tested," she said in a conciliatory tone, "but it is hard for her. When last she saw me I was a child and now I return to her a grown woman with a powerful husband. She once had that herself and now it has gone—she is fighting to find a new position that retains at least an echo of glory. I would ask you to bear with her out of kindness, if not affection."
       "I will bear with her out of love for my wife whom she bore and out of duty," William replied. "I doubt I could do it for kindness." He kissed her fingertips and changed the subject. "Now that we're alone, I want to talk to you about something else. I've been thinking. As well as the religious houses, what would you say about founding a new port on the River Barrow? From what I have seen, Leinster has potential but we need more trade, more settlement."
       Isabelle looked at him, a spark of interest kindling. "Go on," she said.
       "There's a place I have in mind. The channel is deep enough to bring goods upriver and ship them out without having to dock in Waterford. It will cost silver in initial outlay, but bring profit in the long run. We would control the docking fees. All the rents and revenues would be ours and we could use them to develop other projects."
       Isabelle gazed at him in admiration. Founding a new town on Marshal-held lands would boost their revenues and their influence. It was inspired. Many people, her mother included, underestimated William. They thought him little more than a genial soldier, a man who had won his success with a ready smile, the brawn of his sword arm, and an unfair share of luck, but his nature was more complex than that and he had a fine mind. He was quietly ambitious and nobody's fool when it came to fiscal matters. If he was open-handed to his men and his personality generous, then such generosity was founded on an astute grasp of finance and a balanced hand on the earldom's purse strings.
       "Won't the King object? We will be adding to our revenues by taking from his."
       He waved aside her caveat. "He owes me for rallying the English barons to his cause. I have no doubt that Meilyr will have something to say, but he'll object to anything I do as a matter of course. We need to arm ourselves to deal with him, and anything that strengthens our personal grip on Leinster and adds to our revenues is welcome."
       "Then I think it a fine notion," she breathed. The fact that he was prepared to do this, to shoulder the burden and responsibility when for so long he had resisted coming to Leinster, sent a fierce pang through her, compounded of love, pride, and desire. She leaned towards him, almost touching his lips with hers. "Perfect," she whispered. "When were you thinking of beginning?"
       "Why not now, on the morrow?" Threading his hands through her hair, he took up her invitation, kissing her again and again. Through the bedclothes, she could feel that he was as aroused as she