“Morning,” Madoc said, following her gaze. “And hardly a wink of sleep,” he added.
The most delightful, welcome twinkle came to his usually serious eyes. “Now that we understand each other so well, I’d like nothing better than to go back to bed and sleep. Unfortunately, I’ve got to meet with the shepherds today. We have to pick a day for the gathering of the sheep for the shearing.”
“And I still have much to learn about your household,” she said, unwrapping the sheet and picking up her shift from the foot of the bed. It had been discarded during the night, tossed aside when she grew too hot.
He went to the washstand and poured some water from the ewer into the basin to wash his face. “You should talk to Ivor about the feast when the shearing’s finished.”
A feast—her first as chatelaine.
A different sort of dread and excitement grew within her, knowing she would be judged on her abilities to plan and host such an event, and on the meal itself, too. “I’ll do so right away.”
Madoc put on his tunic, then sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “Aye, and we’ll need extra food the days of the washing and shearing, as well as the feast to follow the day after all of that is done. We’ll have men from all the estates nearby to help us, as our men will go to help them when their time comes.”
Not all his neighbors, she thought. Surely his brother wouldn’t come to help him, nor would he send any of his men to help Trefor.
“Perhaps we could make it a marriage celebration, too,” she suggested, “since we didn’t invite your noble neighbors when we wed.”
“If you’d like that, Roslynn-fy-rhosyn.”
“I would,” she said, thinking it would be the proper thing to do, and help maintain other necessary alliances.
“All right then. Do whatever you think best, and since it’s your dowry paying for it, have whatever food you like. But I should warn you, Ivor can be tight with the purse strings.”
She wasn’t surprised to hear that. Something about his thin lips and narrow eyes had made her suspect he was at least a bit of a miser. However, she couldn’t fault him for being careful with her husband’s money.
As she went to her chest for a gown, she realized that Madoc was watching her in the dim light of dawn.
“I could forget my own name when I look at you,” he said softly.
She flushed with delight. “I could forget that I have duties, too,” she said, picking up the blue gown. “I shouldn’t, though, not with so much to do.”
She thought of something else. “Will your son come to the feast? I’d like to meet him.”
When she saw the expression that came to Madoc’s face, she was sorry she’d mentioned his son, until he shrugged and smiled.
“Why not? You should meet Owain. He should meet you, too, now that you’re his stepmother.”
Stepmother. She hadn’t really thought of herself as that before, and now it seemed even more important for her to meet Owain.
Madoc came behind her and tugged her laces tight. “You’re too tempting by half, fy rhosyn,” he said, his voice low. “We’d better leave while I still have the strength to resist you.”
“And I, you,” she agreed, even as her thoughts turned to the feast and all it would entail.
“HYWEL, HAVE YOU SEEN Ivor this morning?” Roslynn asked the cook a few days later after once again finding the steward’s workroom locked and Ivor absent.
As usual, the kitchen was abustle with the efforts of the cook and his helpers to feed the household. Several women chopped and mixed and added various vegetables, herbs and spices to the iron pots hanging from the pot-cranes. Others made and presided over flat bake irons lying directly in the fire. A spit boy, wiping his sweaty young brow with his sleeve, turned several chickens, so close to them he was almost inside the hearth. Seated on a low wooden stool, an elderly, gray-haired male servant tended the built-in boiler cauldron, adding wood to the fire hole as necessary.
Standing at the table where he’d been spicing what appeared to be an entire ox, the cook wiped his large, bloody hands on his apron. “He was here before breaking the fast, my lady. I didn’t see him leave.”
“I heard him say something about going to the mill,” Rhonwen, one of the maidservants, supplied as she cut onions for soup.
Another older servant, named Lowri, shook her head and stopped stirring the peas porridge. “I thought he said Milltonbury. That’s the town about five miles from here,” she added for Roslynn’s benefit.
“What the devil would he be doing there?” Rhonwen demanded. “He’s surely got no business there.”
“Who are you to say where the steward’s got business or not?” Lowri retorted, giving Rhonwen a sour look. “He can go where he likes, I should think!”
“But if the lady’s looking for him, your foolish answer—”
“I heard him say Milltonbury,” Lowri persisted. “Didn’t you hear that, Hywel?”
“I didn’t hear him say anything,” the cook replied with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, my lady. But if you find him, will you tell him I need to know what fish he’s buying for the shearing feast? I hear the fishmonger’s in a way to getting some good salmon.”
“I was hoping to discuss such matters with him myself this morning,” Roslynn replied, hiding her aggravation as she left them.
Unfortunately, every time she’d gone to see Ivor to go over the accounts together and discuss upcoming purchases for the feast, he hadn’t been in his workroom, or anywhere else in the castle, apparently. Later, when she encountered him in the hall during meals, he was full of apologies and apparently sincere remorse for having been otherwise engaged.
The gathering of the sheep and the shearing feast to follow were a mere eight days away. It was Ivor’s duty to help her with the selection and purchasing of the food and they shouldn’t delay any longer, or they might not be able to find, let alone purchase, all the foodstuffs required.
She had two choices, Roslynn reasoned: wait for Ivor to return, or go in search of him. The first would add to her frustration, the second was a blow to her pride. The steward should be coming to the chatelaine, not the other way around.
There was a third alternative, although it was one she would prefer not to consider: she could go to Madoc and have him order Ivor to meet with her.
That was the choice of last resort, for she really didn’t want to complain to her husband, who had enough to think about without household concerns.
So instead, she swallowed her pride and went to find the steward, starting with the armory. The fletcher was there, making new arrows, and another man repairing some quivers. They had no idea where Ivor was.
He wasn’t in the stables, or the loft above them. None of the grooms or stable boys had spoken to him that day.
He wasn’t at the dovecote, or the dairy, or the barracks, or in the servants’ quarters. Every storehouse was locked, so he couldn’t be in one of them. She even looked in the chapel, where Father Elwy was at prayer.
He must have gone to the mill or Milltonbury, as Lowri had suggested. Unfortunately, by the time he returned, it would be too late to discuss the feast, or anything else, before the evening meal.
Frustrated and dismayed, Roslynn crossed the yard toward the gate, deciding she could not let this situation continue any longer. The shearing feast was simply too important to her and she must make sure the steward appreciated that fact.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROSLYNN HEARD MADOC shouting commands before she saw him. He’d taken those men not on patrol or guard duty to the outer ward for practice with sword and shield, although mercifully there’d been no more trouble, and no sign of Trefor or his men since the day after their wedding. Although they hoped the lord of Pontyrmwr was content with his latest malicious act and not planning another raid, Madoc was taking no chances.
Once she saw the group of men, there was no mistaking her husband’s superb body as he led them through their drills. Every lithe action
of Madoc’s powerful arms looked like a dance—except that he held a sword and shield and every move of that sword, every slash, could kill anyone who got too close.
He stopped when he saw her and lowered his shield, barely winded despite his efforts. He sheathed his sword before addressing his men as they, too, stopped what they were doing.
“That’s enough for today, men. Hugh, I want your sword cleaned before you eat. It’s a disgrace. If I see it like that again, you’ll be cleaning the stables for a fortnight. Now get out of here, the lot of you, and go eat something. Some of you look like scarecrows.”
As the men sheathed their swords and took their shields from their left arms, talking and laughing among themselves, Madoc hurried toward Roslynn, a smile on his face that sent the blood throbbing through her. “Had to see what I was up to, eh, my lady? Well, what do you think of my garrison?”
“I don’t think any of them look like scarecrows, unless Welsh scarecrows are particularly large and brawny,” she replied. “There was no need to stop the drill. I was merely passing by on my way to the mill.”
His dark brows rose. “By yourself?”
“It’s not far.”
“Far enough that I don’t want you to go alone,” Madoc replied. He put up his hand to silence her before she could protest that unnecessary measure. “No need to get that stubborn look in your eye, fy rhosyn. I wouldn’t put anything past that brother of mine, so I won’t take any chances with my wife’s safety. Go anywhere you like, but you’ve got to have guards to protect you.”
She could tell by the expression on his face that he was adamant. “Very well.”
“As it happens, since I’ve already dismissed the men, I can be your escort. What do you need to go to the mill for?”
“I want to speak to Ivor.”
Perhaps meeting Madoc like this was a sign that she ought to speak to him now, not Ivor. Besides, it was getting late and there was no guarantee Ivor would even be at the mill when she got there.
“I have to speak to him about the feast,” she said, “and other things, too. I’ve only had one discussion with him, and that was days ago, before I even knew about the feast. Ever since, he’s never been in his workroom when I’ve gone there and it’s been locked, so I can’t check the lists of stores to know what we might already have for the feast, and what we need to purchase.”
“He’s a busy man, is Ivor,” Madoc said with a shrug, “and he’s right to keep his workroom locked when he’s not present. There’s a lot of money in there.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but even when I’ve set aside a time to meet with him, he never comes.”
Madoc’s brows lowered at that. “He’s given you explanations, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, but how can I plan the shearing feast if I never have a chance to speak with him?” she asked, some of her frustration seeping into her voice.
“That won’t be for days yet,” Madoc replied, taking her hand. “Plenty of time. And nobody expects anything fancy. All they want is plenty of good plain food and drink. Now, speaking of food, the evening meal must be almost ready and I’m hungry.”
“I’m sure that would content most of the men, but if we’re inviting the neighboring nobles, there will be women, too. They’ll be meeting me for the first time and I want everything to be perfect, so the feast must be well planned, with nothing left to chance if I can avoid it.”
Madoc laughed softly and put his arm around her. “Wanting to show you’re up to the task, are you?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing’s ever perfect,” he noted as he drew her into the shadow of the wall. “I’m sure I’ll be the envy of every man there, and the women will be even more impressed by your beauty and your competence.” His eyes sparkled with good humor. “If you really want to impress everybody, wear that red gown you wore when we married.” He ran a tantalizing finger around the neck of her bodice. “The women will want to have the pattern of it and the men will be amazed at the fit. It fits you to perfection, that gown.”
Comforted by his words, aroused by his touch, her mood shifted and longing spread like a warm mist through her body—until she recalled that this was hardly the time or place to fall under his seductive spell. “Madoc, don’t. The guards will see us, and I’m serious about the feast.”
“I don’t care if anybody sees us. I’m serious about kissing you right now,” he replied, pulling her into his arms.
“I’m not just worried about the feast,” she said, even as she couldn’t help leaning into him, so that their lips were nearly touching. “This is about respect—or the lack of it. By ignoring my concerns, Ivor is being disrespectful.”
Madoc lightly brushed his mouth over hers. “Another man might mean that for a sign of disrespect, but not Ivor,” he assured her. “Of course he respects you. You’re my wife. And I’m sure if he doesn’t meet with you at the appointed time, it’s because something more urgent has occurred.”
“I’d like to believe that, Madoc, but every time?”
Frowning, Madoc drew back. Part of her regretted that, yet Ivor’s disrespect and disregard for her wishes was a serious problem.
“Do you want me to order him to talk to you?” Madoc asked.
“I truly don’t wish to make trouble between you,” she replied, “but this feast is important to me, Madoc. I don’t want anyone believing you’ve been saddled with a wife who can’t manage a feast. The women will then conclude I can’t be a good wife and you shouldn’t have married me.”
“Ah, a matter of pride, is it?”
“Yes. I want people to think you made a good decision when you took me for your bride.”
He caressed her cheek with his strong, callused hand. “As I want everyone to know I chose wisely and well, too.”
His arms loose about her waist, his hands clasped behind her back, he leaned against the wall. “Well then, wife, I’ll see that Ivor understands that this feast is very important and he should give it precedence. I appreciate you wanted to deal with this yourself and spare me the trouble, but I think it would be the better if I speak to him alone.”
Madoc’s lips curved up in a wry smile. “Granted, I’m not famous for my tact, but I think he’ll be more likely to listen if I speak to him privately. And I don’t want you two to be enemies. I need you both.”
He pulled her close for a long, lingering, seductive kiss that made her wish they were in their bedchamber. “Albeit in very different ways.”
She needed him, too. And wanted him. And his children.
She was already counting the days, every one giving her more hope that her prayers would be answered.
Madoc drew back and sighed sorrowfully. “Alas, my lady, we had best part, or I fear we might find ourselves making love right here after all.”
He was right, of course. They should each go about their daily business, and it would be an outrageous thing to make love here—yet she was tempted nonetheless.
However, her pride and the call of her responsibilities overpowered her desire. “Yes, we wouldn’t want to upset the sentries.”
He nodded, and grew serious. “And the sooner I speak with Ivor, the better it will be.”
“MADOC!” Ivor cried when he realized who was walking down the road toward him a short while later. “Nothing the matter, I hope?”
“Nothing serious,” Madoc replied as he fell into step beside him. “We need to have a little chat about the shearing, that’s all.”
“Everyone can come on the day, can’t they? Or is it the weather you’re worried about? Emlyn’s sure it’ll be fine. Or is it Trefor you’re thinking of?”
“Killing my ram should be enough to content Trefor for a while. Roslynn says she hasn’t had a chance to speak to you about the feast.”
“There’ve been too many other things to deal with,” Ivor replied, “and since the shearing’s not for a while, there’s plenty of time to arrange that.”
“Roslynn doesn’t think so, and it seems every tim
e she tries to meet with you about it, you’ve been too busy.”
“Aye, there’s been a lot—” Ivor suddenly halted and frowned. “She’s complained to you? Does she think I’m lying when I tell her where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing instead?”
Madoc was sorry to see Ivor upset, and over a feast at that. “I understand that you’ve got other calls upon your time, but she’s anxious about the feast, you see, wanting to make a good impression on the neighbors. She wants everybody to know she’s a capable chatelaine.”
“I’m sure everyone will be duly impressed with your wife, Madoc. All they have to do is look at her.”
Madoc laughed amiably as they started toward the castle again. “Well, aye, she’s a beauty, but she’s a bold, clever woman, too, and I want her to be happy. So you’ll talk to her tomorrow about the arrangements, won’t you, Ivor?”
“Of course, Madoc,” Ivor replied, his tone not one of friend to friend, but as servant to master. “I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble between you and your wife.”
Madoc bit back a curse. “Look you, Ivor, I know you’re a busy fellow and it’s for the good of the estate, so I’m not blaming you a bit. It didn’t occur to me that she would care so much, either.”
Madoc was relieved to see Ivor’s expression become more natural and good-humored. “It was a surprise to me, too,” he replied, “but no harm done.”
“Did she mention what sort of things she wants? Special dishes or wine?”
“No. I leave that all up to you and her. I told her she could have whatever she liked. That might have been a bit of a mistake, but I don’t think she’s likely to be extravagant and I know I can count on you to keep the costs reasonable.”
“Aye, Madoc,” Ivor said gravely, “you can count on me.”
WHEN MADOC RODE into the courtyard after hunting the next morning, Roslynn met him by the stables, her face aglow with delight, her eyes bright with happiness.
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