The Reckoning - 3 (49 page)

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for certes. Cockfighting on a Sunday is bound to be a sin of some sort!" He grinned, and Llewelyn wondered if Davydd had been right, after all. Was he here at the Tower as a spiteful exercise of royal power? Or merely as a matter of royal convenience?
"My private chamber in the Blundeville Tower adjoins the hall. We can talk there whilst your men lose their money on the fight," Edward . said, to
Goronwy's obvious dismay. He looked so alarmed that Llewelyn ^drew him aside, quietly assured him that if Edward had planned treachery, it would have occurred before he'd done homage, not afterward. Goronwy did not look completely convinced, but the rest of their men had already joined the circle of spectators, and as Llewelyn and Edward exited the hall, they looked back upon a scene of rare English-Welsh harmony.
"I thought we'd do better on our own," Edward explained. "It is not as if we need an interpreter, after all. I want you to know, Llewelyn, that I'll not keep Ellen in England a day longer than necessary. But I have to be sure that she'll not find herself wed to a rebel, trapped in an alien land at war with the Crown."
"It seems then, that we are in agreement," Llewelyn said, hoping he'd managed to keep all traces of sarcasm from his voice. "We both want Ellen in Wales, not Windsor. So it is just a question of when. I suggest we begin by discussing something we can agree upon here and now. I've been hearing about the efficiency of the English Chancery. Why not put it to a test, see if they can get a safe-conduct issued for me by the morrow?"
By now they'd reached the end of the passageway, were at the door of Edward's chamber in the Blundeville Tower. "A safe-conduct? For where?"
"Scotland," Llewelyn said, a little too sharply. "Windsor, where else? It is only twenty miles from here, is it not?"
Edward nodded, and then stunned Llewelyn by saying, "Well. . I do not really see a need for that."
As difficult as Llewelyn found it to give Edward the benefit of the doubt in anything, it still had not occurred to him that Edward might refuse him the right to visit Ellen at Windsor. Edward had already opened the door, and he followed the English King into the chamber, too outraged to keep up the pretense.
"So you do not think I need to meet my wife? You'd best explatf1 yourself!"
"That was not what I said," Edward protested, with surprising mildness. "What
I said was that there was no need for you to go to Windsor." And then he grinned, and Llewelyn realized, belatedly/ tha they were not alone in the chamber.

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A woman was standing on the far side of the room, holding what looked like a white fur muff. But as Llewelyn turned toward her, she set the muff in one of the window-seats, revealing it to be a very small dog/ an(i sank down in a deep curtsy.
"My lord Prince of Wales," Edward said, "I have the pleasure to present to you my kinswoman and your wife, the Lady Eleanor de Montfort."
Llewelyn crossed swiftly to Ellen, reached down, and raised her to her feet, then brought her hand up and kissed it. Ellen gave him a dazzling smile, then turned it upon Edward. "Ned," she said, "do you not have an invasion to plan or a castle to besiege?"
Edward's grin widened. "No, sweetheart," he said innocently, "I have the entire afternoon free to spend with you and Llewelyn."
"Ned. Dearest Cousin. Go away," Ellen said, giving him a playful push toward the door. He leaned down then, whispered something in her ear, and at last made a jaunty departure, leaving behind a trail of laughter.
Llewelyn was not often disconcerted, but he was now, caught off balance first by Edward's surprise, and then by the surge of emotions it set free. The pendulum had swung too far, too fast, from fury to astonishment to joy to wariness. When he'd envisioned his first meeting with Ellen, he'd never imagined for a moment that she might not be to his liking. But that was indeed his first, instinctive reaction. Watching as she exchanged quips with Edward, he found himself wondering suddenly if he'd not made a great mistake.
She was beautiful, one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. But her nonchalance, her perfect poise in an admittedly awkward situation struck uneasy echoes deep within his memory, bringing to mind another woman from his past, one he'd bedded briefly and long since forgotten, or so he'd thought.
The name came back nowArwenna and so did the memories. She'd been just as lovely as Ellen, just as worldly, as sure of her power to enchant. And she'd also been shallow, selfish, and frivolous. That did not sound, he knew, like the Ellen de Montfort he'd been led to expect. But then, he'd not expected, either, to find her on such intimate, affectionate terms with her cousin and
^Ptor, the English King.
Ellen shut the door, and when she turned back to face Llewelyn, "e found himself looking at a different woman altogether. The bright, bnttle pose fell away; even her voice changed timbre. "Can you ever orgive me," she said, almost in a whisper, "for all the trouble and grief ve brought upon you?"
'Ah, no, lass, there is nothing to forgive!" In three strides, Llewelyn Was at her side, taking her hand in his. "I'll not deny that this war

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wreaked havoc upon my homeland. But you were one of its victims Ellen, not its cause. This I can tell you for an utter certainty, that all n^ regrets were for your abduction, your suffering, and our separation Never for our marriage."
Ellen's eyes never left his face; her fingers had entwined with his "I so needed to hear you say that. This has been one of the worst mornings of my life, and it should have been one of the best. But the longer I had to wait, the more nervous I became. No woman ever had \ more reason to be grateful to the man she married, and whilst on that cog, I vowed that you would never be sorry. By now I ought to have borne you our first son. Instead, you had two years in Hell. I kept telling myself that I could not blame you if you did regret our marriage, but 1 think it would have broken my heart."
Llewelyn's hand tightened upon hers. "You could as easily have blamed me, for a wife has the right to expect her husband to keep her safe. But I failed you twice-over, in letting you be taken, and then in not being able to win your release."
She shook her head. "I am Simon de Montfort's daughter," she said, with a sad smile. "Who would know better than I the might of the English Crown?"
After that, a silence fell, but not an uncomfortable one, for they were rapt in their discovery of each other. They were standing close enough for Llewelyn to catch a faint hint of violets. It was a fragrance that he had never fancieduntil nowbreathing in Ellen's perfume, a scent of spring twilight on a day of drifting December snow.
Ellen had the advantage of Llewelyn, for she'd not been taken by surprise. But now she found herself doubting the evidence of her own senses. "For nigh on half my life," she said, "I've been holding fast to a memory of you. It was not my memory, of course, although it came in time to seem as if it were, as if my mother's recollections had somehow become mine, so vivid was your image to me, so real. I saw you through her eyes, tall and dark, with a smile that she called 'sudden.' When you walked in that door, it was as if you'd walked out of my own past, for you were just as I'd envisioned you. I suppose that is not so surprising/ but. . . but you also sound exactly as I imagined you would, your voice low-pitched and husky, with a wonderful Welsh lilt. How did
I know that? Have I been stealing into your dreams? Or have you been invading mine?"
Llewelyn was intrigued by her candor, and by gold-flecked cat eyes, long-lashed, as clear as crystal. "I might be what you expected," ne confided, "but you, my lady, are a surprise for certes!"
"In what way?"
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She was flirting with him so obviously now that he grinned, tilted ujs head to the side in a very approving appraisal. "Well . . . you are more beautiful than I expected, more worldly, more assured, and best of all, you are not still thirteen!"
She looked so puzzled then, that Llewelyn could not help laughing. "VVe have an odd history, you and I, twelve years in the making. I cannot say that you haunted my dreams, as you aver, but you did claim a corner of my brain and took up residence. You were so young then, and you'd been hurt so much. I did what I must, I disavowed our plight troth, but I was troubled by that lost little girl, more than I realized. If someone had asked me today how old you are, I would have answered without hesitation: that you are twenty and five.
But that little lass of thirteen was a most persistent ghost, always hovering close at hand, in need of all the protection I'd denied her after Evesham, and in some strange sense, it was she I expected to find." He laughed again, this time at himself. "Does that sound as mad to you as it does to me?"
Ellen was touched by his admission. But she was not surprised that he should have felt so responsible for that "lost little girl," even after severing their betrothal bond, for it seemed to bear out her own secret, heartfelt

hope, that their marriage was fated to be, that just as they'd defied the odds and somehow survived the ruination of Evesham, so, too, would they be able to prevail over Edward.
"It does not sound mad at all," she said softly. "I do not mind in the least being a surprise, as long as I am not a disappointment?"
Llewelyn grinned again. "A woman surpassingly fair instead of a timid child bride? What man would not be disappointed?"
Ellen was quite unrepentant and not at all abashed at being caught out. "Mea culpa," she said, "I was indeed fishing for a compliment. But I had no courtship; would you begrudge me a bit of flattery?"
"I think," Llewelyn said, "that I would begrudge you very little in this life." He still held her hand, and drew her now toward the windowseat nearest the hearth. They settled themselves side by side on the cushions, joined at once by Ellen's little dog. Llewelyn watched as she sought in vain to push the animal away, for he was unable to take his eyes off her. "I cannot begin to count the people who told me you were a beauty, starting with Simon. I
assumed, though, that you'd resemble Nell, and you do not. You have the most astonishing eyes; they catch ^e light like gemstones. That color is rare in my homeland. I've seen Jt but once that I can remember, and she was a kinswoman of yours my grandfather's wife."
Ellen was delighted. "My aunt Joanna! It is one of the great regrets °f my life that I never knew her. Are my eyes truly like hers?"

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"The color is the same, water over mossy rocks. But I doubt that her eyes could change as quick as yours do. What of your hair color? Js it as dark as
Joanna's was?"
"See for yourself," she said, and reaching up, she removed her veil She began to unfasten her wimple next, and Llewelyn found himself staring at the slender white throat she'd just bared, wanting suddenly to touch her, to see if her skin was as soft, as smooth as it looked. But she was an innocent, he must not forget that, must go slowly for her sake. She'd withdrawn the last of the wimple's pins, revealing a crown of bright hair, a shade Llewelyn had not seen before, a deep coppergold midway between blonde and red.
"Your hair is like your eyes," he marveled, "a color all your own," and she smiled at him, then unpinned her fret, the fashionable net of gold mesh binding her hair. She smiled again, then shook her head, and Llewelyn caught his breath, for as her hair swirled about her shoulders and cascaded down her back, framing her face in provocative disarray, she looked suddenly and wonderfully wanton, looked like a woman just risen from a lover's bed.
"Good Lord, girl," he said, with a shaken laugh, "do you have any idea what you just did to me?" To his surprise, she flushed deeply. "Ellen? I did not mean to discomfit you. But in truth, you did not seem shy."
"Shyme?" Ellen's smile was wry. "That very suggestion would have sent my brothers rolling onto the floor with laughter."
"You may not be shy, but you are flustered," Llewelyn said, and when she did not deny it, he reached for her hand again. "Can you tell me why?"
She hesitated, but she had to be honest; with him, there could be no other way. "I am not sure I can make sense of what I am feeling, for I've never felt like this before, so ... so anxious. You said I was assured, and you were right; usually I am. That is what being pretty does for a woman, for I learned early on that I could turn male heads without even trying. What I did not learn was how to play the role of the proper modest maiden, to keep my eyes downcast and my speech demure. I always spoke my mind."
"That is hardly surprising for the daughter of Nell de Montfort, he said, and made her pulse jump by turning her hand over, pressing a kiss into her palm.
She focused her thoughts with an effort. "Moreover, I had nve doting brothers, in whose eyes I could do no wrong; it amused thenj enormously that their little sister could swear like a soldier, that I coul tell a bawdy joke and keep their guilty secrets. And so, when I ke8a. to attract men in earnest, at the French court, I saw no reason to gu3*

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y speech, to pretend to be what I was not. In truth, the hypocrisy of 't all seemed ridiculous. Women are supposed to be daughters of Eve, born temptresses, or so the Church would have us believe. But virgins are expected to act as timid and skittish as newborn fawns."
He laughed at that, and she said reproachfully, "You know I am speaking true.
Men want their wives to be nuns before marriage and concubines afterward. At least the men at the French court did. I never fretted, though, that I might be giving the wrong impression, for none of those men mattered to me. They would flirt, try to get me into bed, fail, and I'd forget them. I never truly cared about pleasing a man . . . until now. When I let down my hair for you, I
knew full well what I was doing. I wanted you to want me. But when you jested about it, I was of a sudden assailed by doubts, by the fear that I might have seemed too ... too brazen."
Llewelyn was awed by her utter honesty. Just as she'd bared her throat, now she was baring her soul, and he knew better than most men the courage that took. "Ah, lass," he said, "you do not realize just how dangerous you are."
When he lifted her hand, she thought he meant to kiss it again. Instead, he held it against his cheek, a gentle gesture at variance with what she read in his eyes. "I do not think you are brazen, cariad, only that I am luckier than
I deserve."
He smiled, then leaned toward her, and she closed her eyes, raised her face for his kiss. But they'd forgotten they were being watched by jealous eyes, and as Llewelyn took Ellen in his arms, the dog went into action, squirming between its mistress and the intruder with ferret-like speed, so that their first kiss proved to be memorable in a most unexpected manner; they found themselves sputtering, inhaling mouthfuls of fluffy white fur.
"Blessed Lady Mary!" Ellen gasped, at the same time that Llewelyn said something in Welsh, which by the tone of it, sounded suspiciously like an oath. Rubbing the back of her hand against her mouth, she glared at the dog, then looked apologetically at her husband. No sooner did their eyes meet, though, than they began to laugh.
The dog had staked out possession of Ellen's lap, daring Llewelyn trespass again. But there was a leather lead on the table, and before t"6 little creature could rally its defenses, it found itself tucked under tne enemy's arm, being carried across the room. Looping the leash over
'chair, Llewelyn said, "This dog has got to be an agent of the English
°^n/' sending Ellen into a fresh fit of giggles.
My God, how did you guess? Ned gave her to me!"
Again it jarred, the easy familiarity of "Ned." But this time Llewelyn . Ve«
it aside, back into the shadows where it could be ignored. A
dsome pair of deerskin gloves lay on the table, and picking up one,