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CHAPTER SEVEN

S he gradually became aware of sounds.

That was Elle’s first awareness that the world was going on around her. She could hear a man speaking and people moving about, but she could also hear birds singing. Somewhere, overhead, a hawk was screeching against the wind. He must have been looking for a meal, because it began to occur to her that it was morning.

A new day had arrived.

Elle opened one eye and looked around a little before she opened her other eye. For a moment, she had no idea where she was and how she got there. Everything was unfamiliar. But it was clear that she was in a bed—someone’s bed—and somehow, she had gotten there.

But she genuinely did not know how.

Therefore, she simply lay there and didn’t move, at least not until she could figure out her current situation. She remembered the battle the day before, of course, and she remembered being captured by the English. She remembered a long conversation with the Earl of Hereford, and she remembered drinking too much. Funny that she should remember that part of it, but she had been tipsy and said more than she probably should have. She’d been hoping to play on the man’s sympathies, hoping that honesty would somehow put her in his favor, but that wasn’t what happened.

The Earl of Hereford had plans.

Unfortunately, she was part of those plans. Now, everything began to come back to her, and she remembered being told that Henry wanted a marriage. That child king in London somehow controlled everything, including her, and she had been selected for a marriage to an English Lord. She wasn’t stupid, however. She knew that peace was made in such ways, but she never thought that she would be the one to make that kind of sacrifice. She had so many things she wanted to do, things that now might never happen. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that she alone could affect change for her countrymen, but she at least wanted a hand in it.

Perhaps the only way she would have a hand in it was through a marriage.

That was something she had never considered.

As she lay there and listened to the morning around her, Elle had a fleeting moment of rebellion. A fleeting moment where she thought that escaping this morning would be the best choice for her. That woman who had been captured when she tried to take down an enormous English night was making a bit of a resurgence. But just as quickly, the woman who was fairly certain she would be captured if she made any attempts got the upper hand.

The English were not going to let her go.

And that included Curtis.

That big, handsome knight that she had tried to destroy yesterday was becoming increasingly heavy on her mind. Elle had spent her life around soldiers, rebels who taught her what they knew of Wales and its struggle for survival. They had taught her to fight and to be clever against the enemy, and many other things that were considered unseemly for finely bred woman. The truth was that although she had fine bloodlines, she had lost the hope of ever behaving like a noblewoman long ago. Her life had taken a different course from those women who were strong figures at the side of their strong husbands, and that did not include husband and children in a fine and peaceful home. It only included a hard life where she had to fight for everything she had because no one truly loved her or tried to take care of her.

She had stopped hoping for that long ago, too.

But, perhaps, that was about to change.

Curtis had discussed their marriage and given her the choice of what she wanted it to be based on. They could either build it on battle or they could build it on a civil coexistence. The truth was that all Elle knew was battle. From a very young age, she had been part of the struggles of her people. Did the prospect of peace intrigue her? Of course it did. She wondered what it would be like to wake up every morning and not have to wonder at the danger she faced or where her next meal was coming from. As Curtis had pointed out, she was indeed a princess. But she’d never felt less like a princess her entire life. The idea of actually living an existence that was pleasant and productive in a meaningful way was, indeed, intriguing.

But it was something she had never believed would happen.

Now, here she was.

A new life was beginning.

Elle wasn’t sure how long she had lain there and considered the events of the previous day, but the hungry hawk had flown off, and it seemed to her that the day was deepening. Slowly, she rolled onto her back, looking around the tent but seeing no sign of Curtis. She did, however, see a tray of food and drink on the table nearby. Curious, she sat up in bed and strained to get a better look at it. When she realized she was too far away to see what, exactly, was on the tray, she climbed out of the bed and went over to the table for a close-up view.

There was bread and cheese and four hard-boiled eggs. There was also butter and drink that turned out to be a mixture of water and wine and apple juice. Suddenly very hungry and thirsty, she sat down on the nearest chair and began to wolf down the eggs. In fact, she had survived off eggs for the past few weeks because she would not let her men kill the chickens. The men weren’t exactly starving, but they were eating a lot of eggs.

It was a good thing she liked them.

Elle ate everything on the tray. She drained the cup, too, and even licked up part of the butter. It was creamy and salty and delicious. Once the food was gone, she thought that perhaps she should find the comb that Curtis loaned her last night and brush out her hair. She didn’t know where he was, but she did not want him to return to find her looking slovenly, having just rolled out of bed. He had gone through all the trouble of making sure she had a bath and clean clothing, and although she might not want to marry the man, his attempts to be polite and provide her with everything she needed did not go unnoticed. The truth was that she could not remember anyone being as kind to her as Curtis had.

He might have been her enemy, but there was something endearing about that.

She didn’t want to be rude when he had gone to such trouble.

After leaving the tray on the table barren and the butter half-eaten, Elle moved over to the pot that still held the bathwater from the night before, now cold. She could see the comb she’d used and other things that had been laid out on a chair next to the bath. More than that, the garments that had been brought by Curtis’ squire were now all slung over the side of the screen that had provided her with some privacy. Looking around, she didn’t see her smelly clothing anywhere, so she had little choice but to wear what was available.

The bath she’d had last night had been the first in a very long time, and the reality of the situation was that she liked to bathe. She always had, if given the opportunity. Even with cold water. Stepping behind the screen, she stripped off the shift she’d slept in, stepped into the pot, and very quickly bathed with the last of the lemon-scented soap.

The water was very cold, however, and she gasped and shivered as she washed again and then dried off. A bath was the most luxurious thing she could think of in her world. Clean, and smelling of lemons, she put the shift back on and inspected the dresses that were hanging over the screen.

I like the blue dress.

That was what Curtis had said to her. Feeling silly, she chose the blue dress, perhaps to show him that she could be cooperative. Reflecting on her conversations with him from yesterday, conversations where he always seemed to have the right answer, she realized quickly that she was going to have to choose her battles with him wisely, and a blue dress wasn’t something she wanted to battle over.

The dress went on.

The effort of being compliant began.

The dress was soft and well made, but it was a little too short and a little roomy in the bosom area. She was able to get her hands in behind her and tie the ties that closed the seam in the back as tightly as she could, but she couldn’t get all of them. There were at least three or four ties she couldn’t get to because they were between her shoulder blades. She would have to ask for a female servant to help her finish with them.

Her hair was next.

It had been weeks since it had been clean, so she ran the comb through it several times. It was very long, thick and straight, so she parted her hair down the middle and fastened it in two long braids. In the items left for her next to the bath, she found small leather strips to tie off the braids.

After that, she went on the hunt for her shoes.

All she had were leather shoes she’d inherited from an old man who had been small, a loyal Welsh warrior who had eventually succumbed to a chest infection. She’d scavenged the shoes from him when he passed away because she very much needed them and didn’t think he’d mind. She was just finishing tying them when the tent flap pushed aside.

Curtis made an appearance.

Elle’s head came up from where she’d been tying her shoes, and, for a moment, they simply stared at one another. In the light of day, and cleaned of the battle grime from the day before, Curtis looked like a younger, fresher version of the man she’d originally met. It looked as if he had bathed, too. He was wearing heavy linen breeches, boots, and a linen tunic, but nothing more than that. No mail, no weapons, no de Lohr blue and yellow tunic.

The sight of him was a distinct shock to Elle. If she thought the man handsome when they’d first met, he appeared positively godly at the moment. Quickly, she stood up to face him.

“I awoke and you were not here,” she said, sounding nervous. “I hope that you are not angry that I have dressed in the clothing from last night. I have nothing else to wear, as I cannot seem to find the clothing I wore yesterday.”

“That is because I had it burned,” he said, his voice deep and quiet. “I cannot stand that smell.”

Elle wasn’t sure if she should be insulted by that, but she figured if he really meant to offend her, he would have been more obvious about it. The man didn’t seem to be one who beat around the bush.

“It was probably for the best,” she said. “But, as I said, I really had nothing else, so until I can earn money and pay for more clothing, I hope you do not mind that I wear what you have provided.”

He frowned. “My lady, after our conversation yesterday, I thought I was clear in what our future together is,” he said. “That means that you do not have to earn any money. I will supply you with whatever you need. Can you sew?”

Her cheeks turned shades of red as she averted her gaze. “Nay,” she said. “I never learned.”

Curtis could see that he’d embarrassed her. “It is of little concern,” he said. “I am certain there are local seamstresses. We can find one and have her make you some clothing. Meanwhile, those dresses that belonged to my mother have now become yours. How does this one fit?”

She looked down at the blue garment. “Well enough… I think,” she said. “But there are ties in the back that I cannot reach. Is there a woman who can help me?”

He moved toward her. “Turn around,” he said, reaching out to grasp her arm and turn her when she didn’t move fast enough. He could immediately see what she meant. “I’m afraid I’ll have to do. We do not have any women servants with the army.”

Elle was wearing the shift, so her skin wasn’t exposed, but she wasn’t entirely comfortable with him so close to her. “I do not wish to be any trouble,” she said. “This is a menial task beneath you, my lord.”

His reply was to tie each tie very tightly, one at a time. He did the first one easily, but he pulled too hard on the second one, nearly yanking her into him. She caught her balance and leaned away from him, trying to prepare herself for another yank, and Curtis fought off a grin.

Truth be told, he wasn’t at all adverse to standing this close to her.

The difference in the woman from yesterday to this morning was like day to night. Yesterday, she’d been filthy and combative, but the bath last night had shown him how well she could shine up with a little soap and water. And when he’d just entered the tent now, he was momentarily speechless at what he saw before him. She was in the blue dress that brought out the color in her magnificent eyes, and her hair was in two braids, which was incredibly charming. If he’d simply seen her in the street passing by him and had no idea who she was, he would have definitely taken a second look.

Enid Avrielle ferch Gwenwynwyn was an unusual, and exquisite, beauty.

Against his better judgment and everything he stood for as a career knight with no distractions, he could feel himself becoming intrigued with her. Interested, even. But that was solely based on her beauty. Her manner would tell the true tale of whether or not he could be attracted to her on a deeper level.

There was a part of him that was hoping it was possible.

“There,” he said, finishing with the last one. “I tried to pull it as tight as I could so it would fit better. My mother is a little rounder than you are.”

Elle took a step away from him as she smoothed the dress, seeing that it did indeed fit better now. “It fits quite well,” she said. “I think so, anyway. I’ve never had a garment like this before.”

He looked her over. “You were made for a garment like that,” he said. “A woman of your beauty should not be wearing tunics and hose. This is what you were born for.”

She looked at him sharply, her cheeks turning a darker shade of red. “If I were a finer lady born to a fine and wealthy family, that would be true,” she said. “But I am neither of those things. My clothing suited me.”

His smile faded. “I have offended you,” he said. “I did not mean to. I simply meant to praise your beauty.”

She was vastly uncomfortable. “I would ask that you don’t,” she said. “It… it means nothing to me.”

Curtis nodded but didn’t reply, at least not right away. He was quickly coming to see that flattery was unwelcome, and after their conversations yesterday, he understood why. Perhaps the surprise of seeing her clean and lovely had pushed him into easy praise, but she wasn’t shy in reminding him that it wasn’t something she wanted to hear.

And he was sorry.

“I hope you are at least comfortable in the garment,” he said. “The truth is that I did not come here to tie dresses or spew unwelcome flattery. Last night, we found a woman hiding who told us that she was your cousin. Do you have a cousin here at Brython?”

Elle’s eyes widened. “Melusine?” she gasped. “I do! Is she well?”

Curtis wanted to hear confirmation by name, and now he had it. “She is,” he said. “She and your brother slept in another tent last night, but I will have her sent to you if that pleases you.”

Elle was nodding before he even finished. “Aye,” she said. “Please.”

He went back to the flap and summoned a soldier, sending the man with a message for his father. He also summoned someone else, and Westley burst through the tent flap, eager to do his brother’s bidding. Curtis indicated for the lad to clean up the tent a little, and the young man went to work, picking up and tidying up as Elle stood back and watched him. As Curtis went back over to his table and began to busy himself with a few things, the squire summoned a few soldiers, and soon, the tent was swarming with them, removing the bathing pot and the remains of the meal.

Elle realized she was unnerved with so many English soldiers close to her. As the men moved about, she backed into the side of the tent, as far away from them as she could go. She was unaware that Curtis was watching her, and, realizing she was becoming frightened, he went to stand next to her.

“I’ve not yet introduced you to my squire,” he said, snapping his fingers at Westley, who rushed to his side. “This is my youngest brother, Westley, who happens to be my squire. But do not let his youth fool you—he is a very competent warrior, even if he is at the age where he is so annoying that I want to toss him over a cliff. West, this is Lady Elle ferch Gwenwynwyn. She is a princess of Powys and will be afforded all due respect.”

Westley bowed politely to her. “My lady,” he said. “It is an honor.”

Elle wasn’t sure how to respond, for two good reasons—the first was that she wasn’t used to being around men who were so mannerly. The second was that she wasn’t used to being referred to as a princess of Powys, true though it might be. Being around Curtis elevated her from a woman ignored by her family to a woman whose noble blood was acknowledged and respected. She’d never been trained in the art of conversation, or in being polite when introduced, or anything of that sort. She felt uncomfortable and embarrassed, so much so that all she could do was nod unsteadily to the squire.

It was all quite strange to her.

Curtis must have sensed it. With a slight nod of his head, he sent Westley away, thinking it might relax Elle a little, but she still looked uncertain. Cagey, even. He sought to ease her.

“He will not bite you, I promise,” he said quietly. “West is a good lad. You need not fear him.”

She shook her head, perhaps a little too quickly. “I do not fear him,” she said. “It’s simply that… You said he was your youngest brother?”

“I have five.”

“And… and you like them all?”

Curtis’ eyes glimmered with warmth. “I love my brothers dearly,” he said. “I would kill or die for any one of them, a thousand times over.”

She stared at him a moment before sighing heavily. “I do not know how that feels,” she admitted. “I have one brother, and we have always been at odds. And your father… It is clear that you love and respect him.”

“I do.”

Elle could feel her eyes sting with tears, and she had no idea why, but she turned away from Curtis, pondering a world in which a family actually loved one another.

“I do not even understand how that would be,” she said before she could stop herself. Tears filled her eyes. “My father hated me, and I hated him. I hate my brother. No one loves me except Melusine, and that is because she has no one else either. Is there really a world in which a family is truly a family and everyone gets on with everyone else?”

Curtis could hear the pain in her voice, and it touched him. She was giving him some insight into a woman who was quite an enigma so far. “There is indeed a world where that is not only possible, but probable,” he said. “I live in that world. You are to be part of it, too.”

She looked at him sharply, quickly wiping away the tears that were starting to fall. “They will not love me,” she said defensively. “I am the enemy. I am a symbol of something they’ve spent their lives fighting against.”

Curtis was careful in his reply. “They will not hold you responsible for that,” he said. “My lady, I am going to try to explain this to you, so listen carefully. It is important.”

“Go on, then.”

He did. “My older sisters are both married to men who had lives before they joined our family,” he said. “Neither man was perfect. One man… Well, he is a trained assassin. Alexander went on crusade with King Richard and earned himself a fairly nasty reputation. In fact, my father did not want him for my sister at all, but she loved him… and once he became her husband, we all grew to know the man beyond the reputation. He is one of the finest men I know. So you… If you give my family the chance, they will look beyond the Welsh rebel and see the woman beyond the reputation. They will want to like you. You must give them that chance.”

Elle’s hands were on her cheeks as she thought of that very shocking prospect. “I cannot even imagine that,” she said with sincerity. “And you? What relationship am I to have with you? Do you want to like me, too?”

He grinned. “I hope so,” he said. “But you must give me the chance. You must look beyond the English knight and see the man beneath.”

That was an astonishing bit of advice and insight. Her hands came away from her face, and she looked at him with as much honesty as he had seen from her since the beginning of their association.

“I do not know how,” she said. “I am what you see. I do not know anything more than what you see. And I do not know how to see more than I already do.”

“Are you willing to learn?”

She thought on that. Hard. After a moment, she nodded decisively. “Aye,” she said. “I am. But you said something yesterday that holds true for me, also. I am willing to give you my trust if you ask it. But if you betray me, I will run, and I will never come back. We are being forced into a marriage, but if it does not suit me, then I will not stay. If you betray me, you will not see me again.”

Curtis understood that because he’d said nearly the exact same thing to her. “Then I was not being harsh after all?”

Elle heard her words in his reply. “Nay,” she said, knowing he was right. “You were not being harsh, but truthful. I made a pretty speech about people making mistakes, but in the end, I suppose you can only trust what you know, and if someone gives you a reason to mistrust them, then you must protect yourself.”

“That is very true,” he said. “But I will make you a promise—I will endeavor to never intentionally betray you. Will you pledge the same?”

A commotion at the tent flap interrupted the conversation. They both turned to see Melusine being brought in by a soldier. The moment Melusine saw Elle, she let out a scream and ran to her, flinging herself at the woman. Elle was nearly toppled by the force of Melusine’s momentum, struggling to keep her feet.

“Melly!” she gasped. “Melly, you are alive! Praise the saints!”

Melusine was hysterical. “You are alive, too!” she sobbed. “I was so worried for you!”

“I am well,” Elle assured her, pulling Melusine away so she could look her over. “Are you truly well?”

Melusine nodded, but she was still crying. “I am,” she said. But once she got a good look at Elle in the blue gown, clean and fresh, her weeping stopped unnaturally fast. “And you… What are you wearing? Why do you look like this?”

Elle quickly grew embarrassed, eyeing Curtis before answering. “My clothing was ruined,” she said honestly. “I had nothing else to wear, so Sir Curtis gave me this dress. It belongs to his mother.”

Melusine drew back, appalled. “What did you have to do for the dress?” she demanded. “He would not give it to you without recompense! What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“I do not believe you!”

Furious at the suggestion, Elle slapped Melusine across the face as hard as she could. Melusine stumbled, shrieking, before she struck back. In seconds, a slapping fight was occurring right in front of Curtis, who stepped in quickly to defuse it, but not before being slapped himself. He ended up pushing Melusine back by the forehead, so hard that she stumbled and ended up on one knee.

“Enough,” he snapped, holding out a hand to Melusine to prevent her from charging. He had Elle by the arm, and he looked at them both. “If you two cannot behave like proper ladies, then I will make certain that you are separated for good. Do you comprehend me?”

Melusine was angry, but she forced herself to pause. She didn’t fly off like she normally did, before thinking. She pointed a finger at Elle.

“What have you done to her?” she shouted at him.

Curtis wasn’t happy with the woman’s tone or her behavior. “I gave her one of my mother’s dresses to wear,” he said steadily. “And if you ever speak to me in that tone again, I will ensure you never see your cousin ever again. Tell me you understand, or I will assume you do not.”

Melusine was quivering with anger and a retort was on her lips, but she held herself in check. She was finally where she wanted to be—with Elle—and didn’t want to immediately ruin it.

But it was a struggle.

“I… I understand,” she said.

Curtis’ eyes narrowed. “Any further bad behavior and you will be gone,” he said, lowering his voice to a steady rumble. “This is your only warning.”

Melusine struggled to calm herself, lowering her head, but Elle suddenly pulled herself from Curtis’ grip and charged her cousin, pushing her over onto the floor. Curtis managed to grab Elle around the waist as he bellowed for Westley, who suddenly appeared.

“Get this woman out of my sight,” Curtis said, indicating Melusine. “Take her out of here now.”

Startled, Westley rushed to Melusine, who was picking herself off the ground. He grabbed the woman by her arms, and she started to fight him. Westley dragged her, hissing and kicking, out of the tent as Curtis maintained his hold on Elle.

“Let me go,” she said, trying to pry his arms away from her torso. “Let me go this instant.”

“I will not,” Curtis said in a tone that could have very well been construed as seductive. “Not until you gain control of yourself and tell me why you slapped her. This whole incident was your fault, you know.”

Elle stopped struggling, but her face was molded into a deep frown. “You heard her,” she said. “She thinks that you… that we… that I traded favors for clothing. She cannot get away with that.”

Curtis suspected that might be the case, and he fought off a grin. “She does not know me,” he said. “She does not know I do not trade favors with anyone, at least like that. If I did not give you the dress, you would be dressed in your skin and nothing more. That is hardly dignified or proper.”

Elle sighed heavily. “Melly does not consider that some men have honest hearts,” she said. “Especially the English. I suppose she came to the only reasonable conclusion she could.”

“But?”

“But I still won’t let her get away with it!”

He chuckled and released her. “I think she received your message, loudly and clearly,” he said. “But in the future, a princess of Powys does not attack people when she does not like what they say.”

Straightening her dress, Elle turned to look at him. “Don’t you attack people who say things you do not agree with?”

He shook his head. “It would have to be quite serious,” he said. “It is called controlling one’s impulses. There are things we would all like to do immediately, like slap a cousin with a wicked tongue, but often that does not solve the problem. You should have controlled that impulse.”

Elle was coming to understand what he meant. “You mean I should have asked her to clarify her statement before slapping her?”

He snorted. “Something like that,” he said. “Mayhap simply asking her and not slapping her.”

Elle grunted. “She deserved it.”

Curtis cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sure she did, but next time, mayhap just ask her instead.”

Elle shrugged. “Will you bring her back now?”

Curtis shook his head. “Not now,” he said. “I need your undivided attention, if I may.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to ask you if you would show me Brython,” he said. “You would know it better than anyone, and I would appreciate you as my guide.”

It wasn’t a surprising request, but she didn’t think he would have asked her so soon. The defeat was only yesterday, after all. But it occurred to Elle that Brython now belonged to him, and he was viewing it as a prize he knew nothing about other than it was strategic. There was no heart or soul buried in it like there was with her. Resigning herself to this relationship she would soon find herself in, she wanted him to understand that Brython wasn’t just a pile of rocks to lay claim to.

It was much, much more.

“As you wish,” she said after a moment. “But before I show you, I am going to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“About Brython and why the Welsh believe it is a special place.”

He nodded as if to concede her point. “Very well,” he said. “Go ahead. I am listening.”

Elle paused, thinking on how she would start the story but quickly realizing there was only one place to start.

At the beginning.

“Do you ever wonder why we fight so hard for Brython, my lord?” she asked.

Curtis shrugged. “It is strategic.”

She shook her head. “That is not why,” she said. “In truth, it has nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with our history. The fact is that Brython is sacred.”

“Why?”

“Because it sits upon an ancient gate,” she said quietly. “The gate to Annwyn . That is the Otherworld, where our heroes dwell. It is a place where our greatest prince, Powell, lives. Someday, he will rise again and free Wales from the tyranny of those who seek to rule us. Mayhap he will not rise tomorrow, or even in one hundred years. But we believe he will rise again, and we wait for that day. Meanwhile, we must protect the gate.”

Curtis cocked his head. “My father has native Welsh scouts who know much of Brython,” he said. “They have never told him this tale.”

She smiled faintly. “That is because it is a Welsh prophecy,” she said. “We do not share our prophecies with outworlders. That is you, in case you did not know it.”

He smiled, an ironic gesture. “I have been called worse,” he said. But he quickly sobered. “So you are telling me that the reason you have fought so viciously for Brython is because it’s a sacred site?”

Elle nodded. “Would you not protect such a place fiercely?”

“I would,” he said. “But you were content whilst there were English soldiers here. Brython was quiet. The trouble came after you purged the soldiers.”

“I know,” she said. “But it was time for the English to go. This is no place for them.”

“But the English have it now,” he reminded her. “ I have it now. Did it occur to you that had you never sent the English away, you would not have lost the castle?”

She shook her head. “Nay,” she said truthfully. “I thought we could hold it. I tried.”

Curtis’ grin returned. “You held out for a month against the most feared warlord on the marches,” he said. “That is quite an accomplishment.”

She couldn’t give in to his humor about the situation. “But it was not enough in the end.”

His smile faded. “Nay, it was not,” he said. “But here is something else you might not have realized. The truth is that this is a very valuable castle, and even if I decide to go away and leave it to the Welsh, there will be other English warlords who will try to take it. They may not be so kind to you or your beliefs. You do understand that, don’t you?”

Elle lowered her gaze, nodding reluctantly. “I do,” she said. “I understand that it will always be coveted.”

“Precisely,” Curtis said. “Therefore, it is best that you and I protect it together.”

She looked at him with some surprise. “You and I…?” she stammered. “You… you would protect Brython?”

He nodded. “It is clearly important to you,” he said. “My lady, this marriage will be for peace. For an alliance. What kind of peace would we have if I disrespected your beliefs and treated your people like slaves? We would have a fight on our hands every single day, and that is not something I wish. I grew up on the marches. I speak your language and I know the history of your country. My father insisted that all of his children did because he felt it was important for us to understand the viewpoints of others. I want to understand your viewpoint, but in return, I also want you to understand mine. Only then can we live in true peace. Onid yw hynny’n gwneud synnwyr? ”

Does that not make sense?

He spoke Welsh flawlessly. It was the first time Elle had heard him do it. Somehow, that elevated him in her eyes. The fact that he could speak her language meant something. It was a difficult language to learn, yet he had taken the time to do it. That told her he meant to communicate with the Welsh on their level, in their language. Perhaps he’d been forced to learn it, but he could have easily forgotten it or dismissed it. He didn’t even have to let her know that he could speak it. But he had.

To her, that was a show of respect.

“ Ydy, mae’n gwneud hynny, ” she said softly.

Yes, it does.

He smiled, and for the first time since their association, Elle smiled in return. He had a very handsome smile of straight teeth, with slightly prominent canines, and the gesture made her heart do strange things. It fluttered in a way she’d never felt before. She could feel her cheeks growing warm.

It was a most unusual reaction.

“Good,” he said. “I will tell you my viewpoint and what I’d like to accomplish here. And our children—if we have any—will be children who understand their Welsh heritage and their English heritage. They will be of two worlds.”

Elle had heard that before. “Your father told me that,” she said. “He said they would be the seeds of peace.”

“They will,” he insisted. “My father was right. But I want to understand where you come from and how you envision your countrymen. I want to know how you see this land ten years from now, or even twenty years from now. Will you tell me?”

Elle nodded because he seemed genuine. “I will,” she said. “But you will not like some of my opinions.”

“I can only know that when you tell me.”

“I will tell you that I do not want the Saesneg in Wales.”

“And I will tell you that it is not your decision to make, nor is it mine.”

They were heading into one of those circular arguments again, and she didn’t want to do that. After last night, he had left her feeling defeated that she couldn’t win an argument or dominate him with her wants.

Weakly, she smiled.

“I think we have a long road ahead of us, my lord,” she said. “You may as well know that I have strong views on things. I will not be afraid to tell you.”

His smile returned. “I would hope that you are not afraid,” he said. “I never had much use for women who are submissive. I come from a family of fiery women.”

“Then it seems you are to marry one, too.”

His eyes glimmered with mirth. “Are you saying that you are agreeable?”

“As you said, we have no choice.”

He grunted at what could have been taken as an insult, his smile fading. “I suppose I walked into that one,” he muttered, hoping for a response that might have fed his ego a little. “I was asking if there is anything about me that would make you even mildly agreeable to this marriage. My titles, mayhap? My wealth? My devilishly good looks?”

Elle fought off a grin and averted her gaze. “I think none of those would turn my head,” she said. “You are a Saesneg.”

“And if I were a Welshman?”

He caught her attention with that question, and she thought about it. If Curtis de Lohr had been a Welshman, she might very well find him quite attractive. She wasn’t one to fawn over men in any case, but with him…

She might make an exception.

“If you were a Welshman,” she said, refusing to look at him, “I might find you… adequate.”

He burst into laughter, a great, booming sound that was almost instantly infectious. “Adequate, am I?” he said. “I’ll have you know I am the most handsome out of all of my brothers. I am the beauty of the family.”

“Then it must be an average family.”

He couldn’t stop laughing. He could see that she was smiling and trying very hard not to, which told him that she wasn’t serious. She was poking holes in his pride. It was at that moment he realized she had his interest, because any woman who wouldn’t feed him flattery was a woman of integrity, indeed.

Without question.

“I’ll pit my average brothers against average Welshmen any day,” he said, wiping his eyes of the hilarious tears. “But if you think me adequate, I will accept that. It is better than being inadequate, or worse.”

She was still biting her lip. “If you did not want to know my opinion, then you should not have asked.”

His eyes were still warm with humor. “I think that I shall always want to know your opinion because I suspect you will never lie to me,” he said. “Even if I do not want to hear the truth.”

Elle looked at him then. “Honesty is all I know,” she said. “I am a very bad liar. But I can be… without tact sometimes.”

“I hardly noticed.”

He was being sarcastic, and her grin broke through. “Since you asked me if I found anything agreeable in you, I shall ask you the same. Surely there cannot be anything agreeable about me that you’ve found.”

A smile played on his lips. “There is, as a matter of fact.”

“What is it?”

He was prevented from answering when Westley appeared in the tent opening. “Curtis,” the young man said, breathless from having run. “Papa wishes to see you now.”

Curtis looked at him. “Why?”

“I do not know,” Westley said. “He only told me to fetch you.”

Curtis nodded with resignation. “Very well,” he said. “Where is Lady Melusine, by the way?”

“I gave her over to Amaro.”

Curtis gave him a long look. “Nay,” he said quietly. “Go and find her. Give her over to Hugo or someone else, but not to Amaro.”

Westley looked stricken. “It was wrong?”

“It was wrong.”

Horrified that he’d done something his brother did not approve of, Westley took off running. Elle, who had heard the conversation, approached Curtis in concern.

“Who is this Amaro?” she asked.

Curtis looked at her. “He is a Spanish knight,” he said. “He is a good warrior, but he is not kind. I do not want him frightening your cousin.”

It was a simple explanation, but one that sent trepidation through Elle. “I see,” she said. “He will not harm her, will he?”

Curtis shook his head. “And risk my father’s wrath?” he said. “Nay, he will not, but he could frighten her. It is best to give her over to someone else to guard.”

Elle reached out and put her hand on his arm. “I will not attack her, I promise,” she said sincerely. “Will you please bring her back to me?”

Her hand, soft and warm, was on his forearm, and Curtis found himself looking at it before he answered her. “If you wish,” he said, lifting his eyes to her earnest face. “But meanwhile, my father has summoned me. Come along, my lady.”

“Why?”

“Because I will not leave you here.”

She didn’t ask him why. She knew. There was no one to guard her, and he didn’t want her to try to escape. With a submissive nod, she allowed him to take her elbow and lead her out into the sunny morning.