"And," Caitlin put in, "the lord of St, Bride's comes to claim you for his wife and give us rich husbands. Aye, I thank God for that!"
Madoc of Powys looked toward Wynne and saw that her lovely face darkened when Rhys of St. Bride's was mentioned. He smiled, almost to himself, and then followed the family from the hall to the church which was outside the walls encircling the house. Father Drew, a brown-eyed elf of a man, smiled broadly seeing Dewi, and sang the mass particularly well, to Madoc's pleasure, for the prince loved music. He complimented the priest afterward on the church porch as they were introduced, and smiled to see the old man's flush of pleasure at his words.
Wynne looked at Madoc less fearfully now, pleased by his kindness to Father Drew. He smiled back at her, and she wondered why she had had such a strange reaction to him earlier. She still had to admit that this prince made her flesh burn with an unaccustomed fire, her heart beat faster, her toes and the soles of her feet tingle mysteriously. She had never before felt this way, and she wondered why Madoc had such an odd effect upon her. Still, he did not seem like a wicked man.
"Come," she said, remembering her duties as mistress of Gwernach, "let us return to the hall and break our fast."
"Right gladly, sister," Dewi said. "Remember that I had no supper last night and I am.famished!"
"Serves you right," Caitlin said meanly. "You frightened us badly."
"What?" Dewi mocked her. "Do not tell me that you gave me a moment's thought, Caitlin, for I will not believe you. You think of no one but yourself, and if you did by chance think of me, it was merely that my premature death would put you in mourning, forcing you to wait to make a rich marriage."
Briefly, Caitlin looked outraged, but then to her credit, she laughed. "Aye," she said. "You are probably right, brother."
"I prayed to St. David for you, Dewi," Mair lisped softly.
"So 'twas you who kept me safe, my little dearling," Dewi said generously, ruffling his smallest sister's soft hair. "God always hears the prayers of the good."
"But I prayed to St. David!" Mair said firmly.
"And St. David prays to God," Father Drew replied, settling the matter for the child.
"Ohh," Mair answered, her eyes wide.
They were all so enchanted by the child as they walked toward the house that they did not hear the sound of approaching horses until the beasts were practically upon them.
“ 'Tis Rhys of St. Bride's!" Caitlin whispered excitedly. "Blessed Mother, he is eager for your answer, though he knows what it must be! Do you think the lord of Coed and the lord of Llyn are with him? How do I look, Dilys? Is my hair neat? My gown graceful?"
"In the name of heaven, Caitlin, try not to simper at the man this time," Dewi said, and then turning, he said loudly, "Welcome back to Gwernach, my lord of St. Bride's. You are just in time to join us at our morning meal."
"Having undoubtedly timed his arrival for just that purpose," murmured Wynne softly. "Pray God the baker has enough loaves to satisfy my lord's monstrous appetite."
Dilys and Mair giggled and Enid forced back a smile.
Rhys of St. Bride's, however, had eyes only for Wynne. His grey gaze took her in hungrily as he stopped his great black horse next to her and looked down. His beard and moustache were newly barbered and had been perfumed with a scented oil that hung in the damp morning air. The fragrance of damask rose emanating from the facial hair of this rough warrior was almost humorous, had anyone dared to laugh.
"I have come for my answer, lady," he began bluntly, "even as I promised you I would. It is the first day of the full moon. I now ask you a final time. Will you be my wife?" Rhys's stallion danced nervously at the sound of his voice, and the horses behind him carrying his men-at-arms moved as restlessly.
Wynne took a deep breath, and then the voice of Madoc, Prince of Powys, spoke in her stead.
"Wynne of Gwernach cannot be your wife, my lord of St. Bride's, for she is promised to me and has been since her birth."
Rhys leapt from his horse to face his rival and growled angrily, "And who might you be… my lord?"
"I am Madoc of Powys," the prince said quietly, and yet Wynne felt there was a faint threat to his words.
Rhys's slate-colored eyes widened imperceptibly. "The lord of Wenwynwyn?" he said slowly, and Wynne instinctively felt that her suitor was hoping that Madoc would deny his heritage.
"Aye," the prince said, his mouth, which was long and narrow but for a slightly wider underlip, twitching faintly in his effort to restrain his amusement.
Why, wondered Wynne, was Rhys fearful and Madoc close to laughter? And more important, what did Madoc mean when he told Rhys that she was betrothed to him and had been since her infancy? This was the first she had heard of such a thing! Then to her great surprise, Rhys, whom she had believed fearless, began to babble hysterically.
"My lord prince! I meant no disrespect! I meant no offense to you! The maid did not tell me she was betrothed to another! She did not tell me she was betrothed to so great a lord!" He turned to Wynne. "Tell him you did not tell me, lady! Tell him!"
"Of course I did not tell you, my lord," Wynne answered him. "How could I tell you what I did not know myself?"
"What?" Rhys's small eyes narrowed suspiciously, giving him the appearance of an angry boar contemplating a charge.
"Might we discuss this matter in the hall?" the prince said reasonably, looking down to find several chickens scratching about his booted feet.
"Aye," Wynne said before her duties as chatelaine of Gwernach took over completely. "I think we must certainly discuss this matter, and now; but we must also break our fast. Serious matters are best settled on a full belly. Come, my lords!"
They followed her into the hall of the house, where the servants had lain out the first meal of the day upon the high board. Wynne noted with satisfaction that her house serfs had set enough trenchers of new bread upon the table for her guests. Without asking, a hot barley cereal was ladled into the hollowed-out trenchers. Wynne sent a smile of approval at Dee, the chief house serf in the hall, as the good silver spoons with their polished bone handles were placed by the cereal-filled trenchers. Pitchers of fresh, golden cream, dishes containing newly churned butter, pots of honey, several fresh cottage loaves, and a bowl of hard-cooked eggs followed. Brown ale was poured into fine silver goblets. Madoc, Rhys, and Dewi began to eat hungrily.
"What is going on?" Caitlin hissed at her elder sister. "Have you destroyed our chances for rich husbands? I will never forgive you!"
"Be quiet!" Wynne snapped. "I do not know what is going on, but I intend to find out once our guests have satisfied their appetites. Would you have me violate the laws of hospitality to pacify your greed?"
"Are you not hungry, lady?" Madoc murmured softly so that only she might hear his words.
Wynne sent him a fierce, quelling look. "Eat your fill, my lord, but do it quickly. I would not seem inhospitable, but since you have dared to set my life upside down, I would have an explanation of you, and quickly!"
He grinned engagingly at her, and pulling a piece of the nearest cottage loaf, buttered it lavishly, and slathered it with honey before popping it in his mouth. The tip of his tongue swirled swiftly about his lips, recapturing errant crumbs and several beads of clear gold honey as he chewed and swallowed the bread. Once again Wynne found herself growing briefly light-headed as she found herself staring at him, fascinated. She was unable to understand her behavior.
Dragging herself back to reality, she found him holding out a similarly prepared morsel to her, but when she accepted it, his fingers would not release her fingers even as she raised them to her mouth. Awkwardly Wynne pushed the bread between her lips, fearful of making a scene, yet conscious of her lips touching his skin. She tried to pull free from Madoc, but with a knowing smile that reached all the way to his blue eyes, he drew her hand to his own mouth and licked the honey from her fingers, sucking slowly upon each digit before releasing it.