He would not let this alone, but keep snooping until all her secrets unraveled. “Caer Taff, or Cardiff as your people would say.”
“Ah, Cardiff. I have heard of the place. Apparently it is a fairly large port. I believe it is controlled by a man named Randolph Bellame.”
Rhosyn felt her body go rigid with horror. She could remember it all. The feel of Bellame’s hands on her. The pressure of his body holding her down. She closed her eyes, fighting nausea.
Fitzhugh’s words came to her from a distance. “You know the man?”
She shook her head.
“From your reaction, ’tis difficult to believe you have no knowledge of him.”
She must say something. He was unlikely to let the matter drop. “I have not met Bellame, but I know of him.”
“What sort of man is he?”
“A typical English baron.” Let him guess what that meant to her.
“I had considered going to Cardiff to see what sort of luxury goods might be available. Pembroke is much farther. Whichever port I go to, I will need someone who speaks Welsh to accompany. As far as I know, you are the only one in the village or castle who does so. I thought you might be willing to serve as my interpreter.”
She stared at him. “What? You want me to go back there?”
“Is there some reason you don’t wish to travel to your homeland?”
“Nay, ’tis not that.”
“What, then?”
“I could not act as an interpreter. I am a woman. Who would want to speak through me?”
“But you aren’t merely a woman. You’re a healer. You have knowledge and expertise anyone would respect. And I’ve heard Welshwomen are accorded more rights than women of my race. As a wisewoman, I would think you would be of even higher status.”
He was flattering her, subtly coaxing her to do what he wished. As if she was someone of importance he must persuade to do his will. But what he wanted was unthinkable. She could not go back there. Or, could she? Although the thought of returning to Cardiff half-horrified her, it would mean a chance to see Orla and assuage some of her feelings of homesickness. The place was the site of her worst memories, but it had been her home most of her life. The idea of going there evoked both dread and yearning.
“I will think about it.” What was she doing, acting as if she had a choice? He was the lord of Higham. Anyone living here was bound to do his will.
To her surprise, he nodded. “I’m pleased you will consider it. Perhaps you will also consider coming to the castle.” He gave her a warm smile.
Despite her wariness, she felt herself weakening. He was not ordering her to do things, but giving her a choice. It was rather heady, the way he acted as if what she wanted mattered to him. She’d never met a man like this one, who dealt with her as if she was his equal.
But she was not, and they both knew it. “I’m certain if you send me someone who is quick-witted and observant, I can teach them what they need to know. Learning about herbs to use for seasoning is much less complex than learning how to use them in medicines.”
He seemed dissatisfied, which made her regret her stubborn stance. Some silly, reckless aspect of herself wanted to please this man. To do whatever he wanted, even if he was the enemy. With his dazzling blue eyes, ruddy-hued skin and golden hair, he was irresistible. When he smiled at her, it warmed her like the sun, causing mellow, golden rays of heat to seep into body, making her pliant and helpless.
It was that thought that saved her. She’d vowed to never feel helpless again. And she would not, no matter what this man did to coax and cajole her. “I will think on it,” she said again. This time, she felt no doubts about standing up to him.
*
William left the healer’s cottage, his thoughts tangling and twisting. What had happened between Rhosyn and Randolph Bellame? Her normally tanned complexion had turned deadly pale at the mere mention of the man’s name. What had he done to her?
He could have probed further, but her obvious distress held him back. Her anguished look had made him want to pull her into his arms and soothe her as he would a terrified child. He had considered doing exactly that, until he realized she might well begin to fight and flail at him. She was so prickly. So skittish.
And yet, there was a core of strength within her. A proud defiance. The way she had stood up to him, telling him she would think about serving as his interpreter. By rights, he could order her to accompany him and serve him as needed and she could not refuse.
But ordering someone to serve as your interpreter would be utterly foolish. In passing on his words to her countrymen in their tongue, she could say whatever she wished. She could portray him as a dangerous enemy and encourage the local chieftains to take him hostage or even kill him. It would be utterly witless to coerce her to accompany him.
And he had no desire to coerce her to do anything. He wanted her to help him willingly. He wanted her to be his ally. His friend. Now there was an interesting thought. To be friends with a woman. He had not felt as if Emma was his friend. She was too young, unformed and naïve. More child than woman. Which made what he had done in bedding her even more despicable.
Yet everyone had agreed it was the right thing to do. His father. The priest. Every man he had ever known would have done exactly what he did, and probably much sooner. Even his mother had encouraged him to make Emma his wife in all ways. The girl was lonely, she said. His rejection of Emma was making the young woman very unhappy.
His mother reminded him that while childbirth was dangerous for all women, they willingly agreed to the risk because they desired children. Having children, she told him, while politically important for a man, was something different for a woman. For a woman, children were a joy and a delight. They made the dangers of childbirth more than worth risking.
His mother’s words had made him feel much better. ’Twas clear she loved him and wanted the best for him. Perhaps it was that, more than anything, that caused him to go along with Emma’s awkward attempts to entice him.
“Fitzhugh. Milord.”
He turned, astonished to see the healer. “I thought of something. One of the best seasonings I know of doesn’t grow in gardens. ’Tis wild garlic. Come with me. I’ll show you some.”
Wild garlic, the cook had mentioned that. He followed her, watching the long dark braid down her back swing back and forth. The sway of her hips beguiled him, but he forced himself to ignore his body’s response. She was showing him something; he needed to pay attention.
She stopped and pointed to a mass of plants with shiny green leaves. “’Tis easiest to find in the spring when it flowers. But this is what it looks like when it dies back. There’s also crow’s garlic, although it is a harder to find. And I’m certain your cook must know about leeks.”
“Leeks?”
“They grow all over Cymru. I’m sure there are some growing here.”
“Which is what your people call Wales.”
“Aye. Wales is the name the English gave our country. It means foreigner. But our people were here long before yours were.”
Her tone was suddenly cold. He must win her over. Prove he wasn’t her enemy and that he respected her and her people. “I know little of the Welsh, or whatever you call yourselves, other than your men are skilled and formidable warriors. Indeed, I have heard more than one man say that if the Welsh ever quit squabbling among themselves, they would be impossible to defeat.”
She nodded. “’Tis true. Cymry princes have always warred amongst themselves.”
“As for the English subjugating your people, that happened well over a hundred years ago. The area around Higham has been controlled by vassals of the English king for almost that long. If I wasn’t lord here, it would be some other man allied with John. And I mean to be a good lord. To care for the lands and the people entrusted to me. I think you could aid me in this.”
She regarded him warily, like some beautiful wild creature assessing danger. But unlike an animal, she could reason
. He might be able to win her over with words. Despite her deep suspicion, there was a bond developing between them. She would not have come after him and offered to show him the wild garlic if she truly despised him. For all her standoffishness, she wanted him to succeed as lord of Higham.
He gestured to the plants. “I thank you for showing me the wild garlic. Can you also show me how it is harvested?”
“’Tis simple.” She bent down and pulled up several plants and held them out. At the bottom of the stems were small round bulbs. “This is the part you use for flavoring. Think of it like a tiny onion. You can use it whole or chop it up.”
He took the plants she held out. “I will take these to the cook. Although I will probably need more.” He knelt down, put the first bunch on the ground and began to pull up more the plants.
“You will need the basket to carry them. You forgot it when you left. I’ll fetch it now.”
William continued to pull up the plants and put them in a pile. When he’d pulled most of them up, he took out his knife and began to cut the bulbs from the stems and put them in a different pile. When he’d cut the bulbs off of all the plants he’d pulled, he stood up and stared at the two piles he’d made.
How had he come to this, with him on his knees digging up plants? If any of his knights saw him, they would think he had lost his wits. Men did not harvest and chop up vegetables. Even Elidon the cook didn’t trouble himself with such tasks, but ordered the kitchen wenches or pot boys do them. Still, if doing this won him the trust and cooperation of Rhosyn, it was worth it.
There was something about the healer that drew him, fascinated him. He could sense her strength, a core of resolve and determination, and he admired it. She had endured awful things, or she would not have been so afraid of him in the beginning. Some man had abused or threatened her. But she had overcome the experience and dared to leave her homeland and everyone she knew. She was doing exactly what he was, trying to make a life for herself in a new and unfamiliar place. And she had far fewer people to aid her than he did.
She returned with the basket and held it out. As he took it, their fingers touched. “Thank you.”
*
There he was, doing it again, smiling at her. It made it almost impossible for her to dislike him. She looked down and saw the pile of garlic bulbs and felt amazed. He’d actually cut up the plants, harvesting them as she would have. She met his gaze. “You should probably tell the cook I dug up and prepared the garlic. Otherwise he will think he can ask you to gather seasoning plants any time he wishes.”
His smiled broadened. “I’m certain I would lose face with everyone at the castle if they knew what I’ve been doing. Indeed, even for me to carry the basket of garlic into the keep would look odd. I wonder if you would come with me and carry it. I promise you will be treated with courtesy and deference. After all, you know there will be times you have to go to the castle to aid someone who is ill. ’Twould be easier if you were familiar with the place beforehand.”
He was certainly persistent. She weighed giving in to him. Her fear of going to the castle had mostly to do with her fear of the lord who ruled it. But that was this man, and he had shown her consideration and respect. He also appeared willing to do things most men would consider beneath them.
But despite his coaxing, a part of her dreaded the thought of entering the keep. ’Twould bring back such dark, evil memories. And what if this man’s friendliness and courtesy were all pretense? Once they were in his domain, Fitzhugh might turn into another sort of person. She recalled the way he had arrived in the village, clad in heavy mail, riding on his huge warhorse, blood red banner flying. Lord Fitzhugh was that man as well.
She studied him, trying to decide. He did not look so fierce now. He wore no mail and his masculine features were softened with a smile meant to coax her to do his will. He did carry a sword. But he likely never left the castle without such protection. She met his gaze, searching his blue, blue eyes for deception and deviousness. If it was there, she could not see it.
“Very well. I will take the garlic to the castle for you. If you will accompany me there.”
He nodded, but then his smile suddenly faded. “As much as I would like it, I’m concerned for your reputation if you enter the castle at my side. You don’t want anyone to think you are my leman.”
Nay, she did not want people to think that. ’Twould probably set all the unmarried women of the village against her.
“I will send someone to accompany you there. No one will question your right to come to the castle. You will come as a healer, a woman worthy of respect and deference. No one needs to know you have garlic in your basket, rather than healing herbs.”
How could she resist this man’s request? Even her mother had never been treated with such deference. She nodded in agreement.
“I will leave you now. I’ll go back to the castle and send someone to fetch you. And I ask you to please consider my request that you accompany me on the journey to Wales… that is, Cymru, when I go there to buy goods.”
After he left, Rhosyn stared after him. He had called her country by its true name. That bespoke a consideration and thoughtfulness she’d never expected to see displayed by any of his people, let alone one who was a lord.
William Fitzhugh was not like any man she had ever met.
Chapter Seven
Rhosyn moved restlessly about the cottage. There were a dozen things she should be doing. There were always plants and roots to gather. Decoctions to steep. Salves to prepare. But she could not seem to focus. The Saesnaeg lord consumed her thoughts. Dare she trust him?
It had been easy to do so when he was standing right next to her. Then she had been ensorcelled by his smile and captivated by the warmth in his blue eyes. His sheer masculine presence had overwhelmed her. But now he was gone and her doubts returned. He had been so eager for her to visit the castle. Was it a trap? Did he mean to ravish her once she was inside the keep and surrounded by knights and servants who would not protest no matter what he did?
But why her? If he were looking for a quick tumble, there were plenty of women at Higham who would be eager to accommodate him. Why would he choose her? Unless he saw her as a challenge. People often yearned for what they could not have. He might see her fear of him as an obstacle to overcome. The thought he might be pursuing her for that reason made her feel dejected. Which was utterly witless. It should not matter to her why this man desired her, or if he even did.
Disgusted with her thoughts, she left the cottage. Outside, she encountered the widow Hawise. When Rhosyn had first arrived at Higham and heard the tale of Hawise’s life, she had been filled with pity. Not only had the poor woman lost her husband, but she’d also lost her three children at the same time. Observing Hawise now, it was clear the tragedy and the hardship of her life had taken a toll. She was overly thin and there were lines in her deeply tanned face. But she had pleasant-looking features, and beneath her linen headdress, her hair was a lovely buttery hue that was rare even among the Saxon-fair villagers.
Rhosyn greeted her politely.
Hawise nodded back and said, “I just encountered Lord Fitzhugh and he asked me to go to the castle with you and help you find savory herbs in the garden there.”
She’d thought she’d have more time to prepare. But Hawise was here now.
Rhosyn grabbed the basket of wild garlic bulbs. “We, that is I gathered some wild garlic. I will bring that as well.”
The two women walked along in silence for a time. Finally, Hawise spoke in a soft, tentative voice. “Lord Fitzhugh is a most unusual lord, isn’t he?”
“Aye. He is that.”
“He sought to have me order the village women in clothing making. As if I had the authority to tell them how they should spend their days. And the fact that he even considers such matters…” Hawise’s voice trailed off and she shook her head. “I feel sorry for him. He has no wife to aid him and he is trying to refurnish the whole castle. Apparently, Roscales took
everything but the furniture that was too large to transport. I can’t imagine a man being able to think of all the things involved. But I am impressed Lord Fitzhugh is trying to do so.
“Still, I am unsettled he has involved me the way he has,” Hawise continued. “And I know he has angered Hearne, something I would never dare. Although there is no way Hearne can defy him. Fitzhugh is the lord, and he can do what he wishes. But I do worry Hearne will take out his anger at Fitzhugh on Gisella, poor thing.”
“Why is Gisella a poor thing?”
Hawise shook her head sadly. “It all started when she lost the babe. It took her years to conceive anyway. Then she miscarried early on. Hearne was furious. I think that might be the first time he beat her. At least badly.”
Rhosyn felt the anger building inside her. Nothing was more upsetting for a healer to deal with than a woman who had been battered by her husband. And for that to happen right after the woman had lost her baby and was grieving and weak—’twas appalling.
She wondered what Fitzhugh would think if he knew about that incident. Her instincts told her he would be as distressed as she was. But, nay, it was more likely he would defend Hearne’s right to discipline his wife. Fitzhugh might seem kind and courteous to women, but that did not mean he would be willing to interfere with another man’s authority over his spouse.
“In that way, it’s probably just as well I am widowed,” Hawise said. “I have no husband to be upset when Lord Fitzhugh asked me take charge of clothmaking. I am still uneasy how the other women will react. They will likely not be pleased to have to drop their other tasks to spend time making flaxen cloth, even if Hearne explains that it is the lord’s wish. They may well take out their irritation on me, since it seems Fitzhugh wants me to oversee things.
“Yet you can’t really blame him for muddling things,” Hawise went on. “He is a man, and he has no idea how these things work. If ever there was a man that needs a woman to order his household, it is Fitzhugh.” Hawise’s normally solemn tone turned amused. “I’m certain there are women lined up who would be pleased to take on the role. Egelina and Maybelle are clearly eager for his favor. Although they are too young and flighty to be much use to him. But they are exactly the sort of woman likely to turn his head. He is young and vigorous; he will seek a woman who heats his blood. At least for the role of mistress.
Lord of Secrets Page 6