Outside the cozy bed, the room was cool, and she hurried to don her shift, draped over one of the chairs. Malmsbury must have put it there. That was the sort of man he was, careful and considerate. She thought again of the things he’d done to her and felt a flush of embarrassment. He was a wonderful lover, playing her body as an adept musician might play the crwth or harp. How confident he’d been he could bend her to his will and make her helpless with desire. She wanted to despise him for that. But even though she stoked the ashes of resentment, they refused to catch ablaze.
She dressed and went to the window, staring out at the overcast sky. Malmsbury might give her great pleasure in bed, but the rest of her life was bleak and purposeless. At this moment, she did not entirely regret plotting with Rhys to sabotage the alliance and her marriage. She could not live like this, a pampered, aimless life. She missed her home. She missed Aoife, her father and her brother, and everyone at Caer Brynfawr. She missed the horses and her father’s hounds. Even the sheep and the cattle. And she missed the wild hills and all the animals that lived there: foxes, hares, squirrels, pine martins and deer, the hawks and gyrfalcons and the other birds.
Undoubtedly, some of those creatures lived around Tangwl. But she didn’t know where to find them, and she felt certain Malmsbury wouldn’t let her go riding alone to seek them out. And what about her mother’s family in Ireland? Now that she was wed, would she ever see them again?
The losses piled up, making her want to weep. But that was what children did, and she was a woman. Women took charge of their lives, as she had done in sending the message to Rhys. Even though her stomach clenched whenever she thought of what she had set in motion, every time she reasoned things out, she came to the same conclusion. Escaping this marriage was the only hope she had of ever being happy again.
Feeling slightly calmer, she put on her stockings and shoes and sat in the window seat to begin the struggle to tame her hair. She needed Edith’s help. But the young maidservant hadn’t come, and it seemed foolish to go searching for her simply to have the girl tend to her hair. But after a few minutes of fighting with tangles, she decided she had no choice. She usually slept with her hair braided, but Gerard had undone her plaits so he could run his fingers through the waist-length strands. Then the vigor of their lovemaking had turned her hair into a snarled mess.
She smoothed her hair as best she could and tied it at her nape with a ribbon before going to fetch Edith. After searching the hall and the kitchen, she finally found her in the weaving shed. The girl jumped up from her loom when she saw Marared. “Oh, milady, I’m sorry. I was supposed to come and see to you. Lord Gerard said to let you sleep and then I forgot.”
“Where’s Malmsbury?” Marared asked. A moment later, she regretted the question. She must get used to the idea that in a few weeks or months, he would no longer be a part of her life.
“He’s in the stables. One of the mares is foaling and having a difficult time.”
Marared felt an instant surge of anxiety. So many things could go wrong during birthing.
“I came here to get your help dealing with this rat’s nest.” She motioned to the tangled mass trailing down her back. “But it can wait. I think I’ll go see how the mare is faring.”
“Milady?” Edith looked startled.
“Oh, I know it’s not something gentlewomen are supposed to do, but I always helped my father with the lambing, and this isn’t much different. I’m very fond of animals; I hate to see them struggle and suffer.”
“Very good, milady. Come and get me when you are ready to have me do your hair.”
Marared left the weaving shed and headed toward the stables. As she crossed the mucky yard, she wished she had worn her pattens to protect her slippers from the mud. They were going to be a mess, maybe even ruined. But helping an animal was more important.
She found Malmsbury and the stablemaster outside a stall. Looking in, it was obvious the mare was struggling. Her head drooped and her brown eyes were listless.
Both men regarded Marared with surprise. “What is it, Marared? Is something wrong?” Malmsbury asked.
“I just heard about the poor mare. How long as she been in travail?”
“All night,” Ormond the stablemaster answered. “I think the foal is placed wrong.”
“Have you tried to turn it?”
“I’ve done that with cows, but this mare is so small, I feared to make things worse.”
“I could try,” Marared said.
Malmsbury and Ormond looked at her as if she’d grown two heads.
“I used to do that with the ewes. Especially when they were carrying twins. Sometimes the two lambs get tangled up, and you have to reach in and rearrange their limbs to get them out safely. Or pull one of them out, to keep the other from dying.”
Ormond glanced at her hands. “I suppose it’s worth a try. The question is, are your arms long enough to reach the foal?”
Malmsbury said nothing, and Marared felt a flare of anger. He clearly didn’t think she knew what she was talking about. But at least he hadn’t refused to let her attempt this. “I need some hot water to wash with. It’s important to keep things clean during the birth process.”
“Who told you that?” Ormond asked.
“The midwife.”
“But midwives deliver babies. Animals are hardier. The straw is fresh, but I wouldn’t want to think of a woman giving birth here in the stables.”
“It hurts nothing to follow Anwen’s advice,” Marared retorted. “She’s delivered many healthy infants over the years.”
“Very well, I’ll have Edgar fetch hot water from the kitchen.”
While they waited, Marared entered the stall to let the mare get used to her. The poor creature. Malmsbury said her name was Star. The animal was so weary and exhausted she paid little attention to Marared. Marared touched the mare’s side. It was taut, the skin was stretched as far as it would go. But the rest of the mare’s skin seemed loose. Marared turned to Malmsbury. “She needs water. It will give her strength.”
Malmsbury took a bucket and headed to the rain barrel outside the stable entrance. When he returned, Marared sought to coax the mare to drink. She didn’t seem interested, as if she’d given up and was waiting to die. Marared felt a stab of fear. If things were too far gone, both the mare and her foal would die. Then everyone would think she was a fool.
But that didn’t matter. She didn’t care if what she was doing was futile; she had to try to help this poor suffering creature.
Ormond returned with the hot water.
“Hold her head.” Marared motioned. “Hopefully she’s too weary to struggle or kick me.”
“Marared.” Malmsbury’s tone was sharp. “I’m not sure you should do this. It seems risky. What if the mare kicks you or knocks you down?”
Marared shot him a look. “You’re worried you’ll have to tell my father that some harm has come to me. If that happens, remind him what a headstrong, stubborn wench I am. He’ll understand. Especially if he knows an animal is involved.”
Her gown had long sleeves, which would get in the way. Marared shot Malmsbury a defiant look, then unlaced the front of her gown, slid her arms out of the sleeves and tied them loosely around her breasts. This left her arms bare and her shoulders covered only by her thin linen shift. It was indecent to have Ormond see her like this, but she didn’t care.
She rinsed her hands and arms in the near scalding water, wishing she had some soap. After shaking the excess water off her hands, she approached the mare’s rear. She gently touched the animal’s flank. When the mare didn’t become agitated, she carefully slipped her hand into the mare’s birth canal and searched for the foal. She immediately found the head, but the front legs were tucked behind it. She needed to straighten them so they would come out more easily.
She strained deeper, until she could grasp one of the legs and slowly ease it forward. The mare had a contraction, squeezing Marared’s arm like a vise. She gritted her teeth, ple
ased despite the crushing pressure. The mare’s body had not given up.
When the birth spasm passed, she again sought out the delicate ankles of the foal and maneuvered them bit by bit until they were straight. Then she held on to one of them tightly, waited for the next contraction. When it came, she pulled hard. The leg slipped from her grasp and she cursed heartily, using words no lady should know. Now Malmsbury would realize she truly was an uncouth Cymraes.
Again, she sought out the delicate limb. Grasping it tightly, she waited. It seemed like forever until another contraction came. When in finally did, she gritted her teeth and pulled, hanging onto the frail leg with all her strength.
Nothing happened. Her spirits sank. The mare did not have enough strength to push the foal out. But she waited for another contraction and tried again. This time the foal seemed to move. She waited, panting, for the next contraction, then braced herself and pulled. The horse whinnied, a cry of pain. Then the foal slid out, pitching Marared backwards.
Ormond immediately knelt by the foal and wiped the glistening membranes from its face and rubbed its body with straw, hoping to stimulate it to take a breath. Malmsbury knelt beside Marared and helped her sit. “Are you hurt?”
She was too exhausted and dazed to speak. Ormond’s voice came from a distance, full of triumph. “It’s a little filly and she’s alive!”
Marared let out a sigh of relief.
“You’re a true heroine,” Malmsbury said. “You saved two lives today.”
Aye, she had. She’d done something worthwhile. Something she could be proud of. It had been a long time since she felt like this. Strong and capable.
With Malmsbury’s aid, she stood and approached the foal, laughing with delight as she watched it climb shakily to its feet. It went down again, but got up more quickly the second time and balanced on its spindly legs. She could not help turning and smiling at Malmsbury. He smiled back broadly, showing the dimple she’d noticed recently. His hazel eyes shone with warmth and tenderness, and she realized his look of fond happiness was not directed at the foal, but at her.
For a few seconds she felt a bond with him, a much different sort of connection than the one they had in bed. This time, it felt as if their spirits touched.
She looked away, unsettled. This could not be happening. She couldn’t be feeling this way. Not with Malmsbury. He was the enemy. She could not forget that.
“What will you name her?” she asked Ormond, who was coaxing the foal closer to its exhausted mother.
“That is for Lord Gerard to decide.”
“What do you think, Marared?” Malmsbury asked. “What shall we name her?”
She focused on the wobbly creature and the weary mare, sniffing her baby uncertainly. It was so important the mother accept the foal. Otherwise they would have to find another nursing mare and hope she would let a second foal feed. Or they could try to raise the foal themselves. But hand-fed animals seldom thrived.
When the mare began to lick the foal, Marared felt tears of relief forming in her eyes. She said a silent prayer of thanks.
Malmsbury came up beside her. “All is well now. Thanks to you.”
She nodded, but didn’t look at him. Now that the crisis was passed, she realized she was cold. The sticky birth fluids covering her were rapidly chilling her.
He touched her shoulder. “You’re shivering. We should get you back to the castle.”
“A hot bath would not come amiss.” She tried to untie the sleeves of her gown so she could dress properly, but it was difficult now they were wet.
Malmsbury began to undo his belt. “Here. Let me give you my tunic to wear.”
“Just get me a horse blanket.” She gestured. “It’s far too late to worry about how I look anyway.”
He fetched a horse blanket from the next stall and put it around her shoulders. “I vow, you still look beautiful.”
“Then you are a madman.” She reached up to touch her hair, which had come loose from the ribbon. Her tangled tresses spilled in wild waves over her shoulders. “I’m not sure even Edith can unsnarl this mess.”
“Let’s you get you to the bedchamber so she can make an attempt. After your hot bath.”
Malmsbury took her arm but she slipped away and approached the little filly, which the mare was now devotedly licking. The foal was a gray, like its mother, a common color for local horses. She didn’t touch the foal, not wanting to disturb the tender scene. Its coat was now the hue of a stormy sky, but would probably grow lighter as it matured. Marared was reminded of bluebells in the spring. “What don’t we call her Bluebell?”
Ormond made a sound in his throat that suggested he didn’t approve, but Malmsbury nodded. “A lovely name, for a lovely little filly.”
*
A warm glow spread over Gerard’s body as his wife gazed adoringly at the little creature whose life she had saved. This was a side of Marared he hadn’t seen before, this maternal tenderness. The last hour had been full of surprises. He hadn’t known his wife could be so strong and so determined. He’d thought of her as mercurial and passionate, charming qualities in bed, but not very helpful the rest of the time. It was a revelation to realize that beneath her wildly changeable temperament was a bedrock of strength and determination.
Few women would have been able to do what she had done, and no gentlewoman of his acquaintance would even have tried. His pampered wife was not selfish and spoiled after all. If a crisis demanded it, she could act with decisiveness and fortitude. She was also deeply compassionate. Seeing the mare was in trouble, she hadn’t hesitated. Although her resentment of him as a Sais had caused him more than a bit of aggravation, he’d always admired her proud determination to defend her homeland and her people. Now he had other reasons to admire her.
At the same time, he felt the familiar anxiety. This was a woman who would do anything to achieve her goals. He’d already discovered it could be unpleasant to interfere with her wishes. Now he could see that it might be dangerous. Would he ever truly win her loyalty? Or would she always choose her people and her beloved Cymru over him?
As they walked to the castle, Gerard realized she was still shivering. She needed that warm bath immediately. “Go up to the bedchamber. I’ll have hot water brought up and fetch Edith.”
She hurried toward the castle, holding the horse blanket tightly around her. Her rose gold hair floated like a cloud around her shoulders, reminding him the feel of it as he ran his fingers through the silky tresses when they made love. He half wished he could be the one to bathe her, rather than Edith. But he knew nothing about untangling hair. But perhaps afterwards, when she was warm and clean and comfortable…
Nay, he must not let his thoughts go there. He was already obsessed with his wife. She had too much power over him.
Chapter Fourteen
Marared sat wrapped in a blanket as Edith patiently combed out her wet hair. The maidservant had used goose grease to unsnarl the worst of the tangles before helping her wash her hair in the bathing tub. As the maidservant finished untangling the knots, Marared brooded. For once she’d had a useful role at Tangwyl, but it was over now. Her life would go back to its usual tedium. Of course, she still had the pleasure of making love with Malmsbury to look forward to.
The thought made her clench her teeth in self-disgust. It was disgraceful to enjoy her husband’s lovemaking even as she plotted to end the marriage. But Malmsbury was the enemy, which excused her behavior. Except, if he was the enemy, she should not have allowed him to get so close. Oh, she was a hypocrite, a wretched, disgusting hypocrite.
She shifted restlessly on the stool, wondering if Edith would ever finish.
“Almost done, milady. Then I will braid it to keep it from being tangled again.”
Why bother? Marared almost responded. Why bother with anything? Aiding the poor struggling mare had briefly roused her from her sense of hopelessness and frustration, but now there was nothing to look forward to. Nothing except this endless battle between the
yearnings of her body and the cold, rational pathway her head had already chosen.
“Milord!” Edith exclaimed as Malmsbury strode into the room.
“I don’t mean to intrude.”
He was always so courtly and polite. Why didn’t he ever get mad?
“Why are you here?” She faced him sullenly, not caring that Edith drew a sharp, dismayed breath.
His calm, reasonable demeanor did not crack. “I thought perhaps you would like to ride out with me and look at the mares in the far pasture. Several of them are near to giving birth. After our experience with Star, it seems wise to keep an eye on the others.”
“Do you really have time for such things?”
“We need quality horses to see to the castle’s defense, and we can’t afford to purchase them all. Seeing to the breeding stock is obviously part of my responsibilities.”
But it wasn’t part of his duties to take her along. He was doing that because he thought she would enjoy it. Curse it. As hard as she tried to see this man as a villain, he refused to cooperate.
“Aye. I would like to go. Although I will need to dry my hair a bit and get some warm clothing.”
Malmsbury gave a slight bow. “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
*
Gerard found himself grinning as he left the bedchamber. At last he’d thought of a way to involve Marared in life at Tangwyl. She clearly cared about horses and other livestock. Involving her in their care might make feel like she was part of her new home and help thaw her coldness. And also ease her resentment of him. She’d responded to him eagerly on a physical level, but he had no illusions she’d come to care for him. There was a part of her that still viewed him as the enemy. As stubborn and proud as she was, that animosity would not be easy to overcome. But he’d made a start.
He met her in the bailey a short while later. Her hair was in braids and she wore a warm cloak. It was obvious from her expression that she was excited by the prospect of going riding.
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