Dark and Bright (3 page)

The Earl’s words cut into his thoughts. “My dear niece, may I present to you Rhys ap Rhodri, Lord of Powwydd, son of Rhodri, Prince of Powwydd, and his brother-by-marriage, Baudoin de Montbryce, Earl of Ellesmere.”

Rhys and Baudoin both bowed to Annalise.

The Earl continued, “Lord of Powwydd, and
milord
Earl, may I present to you Lady Annalise de Vymont, beloved daughter of my late sister.”

Annalise handed support of her uncle over to two pages and curtseyed deeply, but she remained silent, eyes downcast, mouth tightly drawn. Rhys had the impression she was struggling for control. He took her hand and said in French, “Please rise, my lady, I’m delighted to meet you.”

Why was his heart racing so rapidly? He felt the warmth of her hand in his and fervently hoped the odour of ale hadn’t lingered on his breath. Had he made sure to brush all the cheese crumbs off his face?

“
Milord
of Pow—weed,” she murmured, her tongue tripping over the foreign name.

Her lush voice made his name sound exotic. Why did he feel like an untried boy, his thoughts in a muddle? “We’re to be betrothed, you must call me Rhys.”

She didn’t look at him. “
Oui,
milord
,” she replied.

“And I shall call you Annalise,” he said, chagrined that this golden-haired beauty hadn’t offered that intimacy. Why did it bother him? Give her time. This betrothal had come as a shock. Would they grow to be friends? At least his body had no trouble responding to her.

“As you wish,
milord
,” she replied demurely, still not looking at him.

The Earl waddled over to his chair and sat down heavily, his breathing laboured. He cleared his throat, coughing up phlegm which he spat into the rushes at his feet, narrowly missing the page. “Gentlemen, you’ve perused the betrothal document and found it in order, I trust? I therefore request your signatures. As you see, I’ve signed already.”

Rhys took the document to the chart table, leaned over and signed his full name—Rhys ap Rhodri ap Owain ap Dafydd ap Gwilym, Lord of Powwydd. To his consternation there was a tremor in his hand. Hopefully, no-one had noticed. He straightened and stared at the parchment. Baudoin good-naturedly elbowed him out of the way and witnessed as Baudoin de Montbryce, Second Earl of Ellesmere.

When Baudoin proffered his hand to Annalise, inviting her to sign, she looked with alarm at the signature Rhys had written and she too stared at the document.

Rhys sensed her discomfort and the reason for it. “My lady, you’re wondering about my signature. We Welsh are a strange breed. Instead of listing our lands and titles, we list our forefathers. I am the son of Rhodri, who was the son of Owain, son of Dafydd, son of Gwilym. Our pride is in our heritage.”

He took her hand and lightly drew her fingers over the names he’d written, wanting her to understand. She flushed and nodded. “I understand,
milord
.”

She took the chair he offered and slowly signed her name, Annalise Gertrude Francine de Vymont. She turned to look up at Rhys and explained, “Gertrude was my mother’s name.”

Her voice, uttering the first words she’d spoken to him willingly, swept over him like a warm wave. His heart beat faster and his erection become harder, the ache intense. What in the name of all the saints was wrong with him? What had happened to Rhys the calm and cool diplomat? He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the blue depths of hers. He was awash in them. This was no good. He would need to be more in control.

“I trust, my lady, we can conclude our business in one month’s time from this day?”

She flinched. How to take back his cold words? Instead he compounded his stupidity by turning away from her and addressing the Earl. “Here at Chester, perhaps?”

“Granted,” the Earl replied. “We’ll have everything in readiness.”

“As you wish,
milord
,” Annalise said, bobbing a curtsey before she swept from the room, head high, back straight.

Rhys couldn’t take his eyes off the sway of her hips.

***

It was only as she hurried to her chamber, her heart hammering, that Annalise realized the entire betrothal process had been conducted in flawless Norman French.

Her first glimpse of her future husband had been a shock. She’d expected a crude barbarian clad in rustic clothing. The masculine confidence emanating from his tall, well-muscled body and the rich cut of his clothing had overwhelmed her. He liked red too! She hoped her mouth hadn’t fallen open. And those green eyes! She’d been afraid to look into them. He must think her an idiot, barely able to speak, but her mouth had suddenly gone exceedingly dry. She could think of no words to say. The warmth of his hand had flooded into her body.

He’d sensed her confusion over his signature. It had made no sense to her. Rhys had explained it kindly, and the touch of his hand as he traced her fingertip over his name had made her heart race. She couldn’t help but admire his obvious pride in his heritage.

She reached her chamber and slammed the door behind her. It wouldn’t do. Though she’d been raised in a household devoid of love, Annalise had inherited her mother’s disposition. Normally a girl who was outgoing and quick to smile, she made up her mind to be cool toward this man who’d essentially bought her from her uncle. She’d been traded for two outlaws so that the Lord of Powwydd could have heirs. She would acquiesce because she had no choice, but she did have a choice as to how she behaved towards him.

Rhys stayed on at the castle for a few more days, but most of his time was taken up in discussions with the Earl regarding border issues. He saw little of Annalise and when they did spend time together she was unfailingly polite, but cool. He tried to impart to her something of his
llys
at Powwydd, but worried about the apprehension on her face at the mention of being taken there. He told her about his family. Anger blazed in her blue eyes as soon as he mentioned Rhun and Rhydderch. She was aware of the terms of her
dowry
. He decided not to press the issue.

The thing that perplexed him the most was his state of constant arousal whenever he was near her. “I suppose I should be glad of that,” he thought. “Perhaps it’s the anticipation of bedding a virgin that has me acting like a rutting fool.”

But it was more than that, though he’d never had a virgin before. He’d been careful with the women he chose to bed.

Perhaps ‘careful’ should be my middle name.

His past relationships had been about alleviating his male urges, and nothing more. He’d chosen experienced women, women who’d taught him a great deal about female needs, women who were not looking for a relationship. He was grateful to them, and they appreciated his gentleness and consideration. In deference to his parents he was discreet about his liaisons and avoided whores. He liked clean, sweet smelling women. He’d made sure too that he sired no bastards, never spilling his seed inside his partners. He looked forward with unbridled enthusiasm to taking Annalise completely, filling her with his children. He was satisfied. It would be a good arrangement.

***

Annalise found the few days she spent with Rhys unsettling. She hated what had happened to her and fumed at being used in a political game. She had longed to leave the life her father imposed upon her, but now it seemed she was exchanging one tyranny for another.

Her belly clenched with dread at the thought of living in the wilds of an unknown, barbaric country. However, to her dismay, she couldn’t find hatred in her heart for the tall, dark nobleman to whom she was betrothed. She liked the sound of his voice, and the melodic way he spoke her language.

She resolved to hide her heart from him. To Rhys she was a means to an end, a business transaction he’d been obliged to enter into for the sake of his brothers and the need to produce heirs. He must never discover she liked him.

***

It was an important social occasion for the community in Chester, and all the local gentry were there. From further afield, the Earls of Ellesmere, Shrewsbury and Hereford attended with their Countesses. Rhys’s older sister, Myfanwy Mabelle, the Prioress of Llansanraid, was in attendance and she promised to keep Rhun and Rhydderch under her watchful eye. The Earl had given a special dispensation for them to attend, much to Hereford’s annoyance. Rhys was starting to understand the depth of mutual disdain Chester, Shrewsbury and Hereford had for each other. How different they were from Baudoin’s late father, the first Earl of Ellesmere, Ram de Montbryce.

Rhonwen came. Could his perceptive mother tell how nervous he was? An hour or two after her arrival, she reached up to put her hands on his shoulders and forced him to look at her. He bent his head. “You’re nervous!” she exclaimed. “If I didn’t know you better, Rhys my boy, I would say you’re in love with this girl you’re about to marry.”

“Mother,” he replied sardonically, shaking his head, “you’re too ready to have people in love. I know you fell in love with my father the moment you cast eyes on him, and he with you, and yes, I know Baudoin loves Carys, but you’re the unusual ones. Most men are not in love with their wives, and to be frank I don’t want to be in love with mine. I don’t need the distraction. Annalise will be a good wife, and we’ll have children together, and hopefully we’ll become friends, but she doesn’t love me and I don’t love her.”

Rhonwen put her hands to his neck and shook him. “Hmm! I’m insulted by your remarks. Your father has never considered me a ‘
distraction’
even though I’m an
old woman now. He wanted to come to your wedding, believe it or not, but I’m sorry to say your father isn’t well these days. He sends his love.”

Rhys was remorseful. He took hold of his mother’s hands and kissed them. “I didn’t mean it that way, mother—and you’re not old,” he said with exasperation, noting sadly his mother’s grey hair and wrinkled brow. She spoke the truth and he feared for his father’s health. He too had noticed a decline in his sire of late. But Rhodri was more than three score years. No one lived forever, and considering the dangerous life his father had led—

She cupped his face in her hands and stood on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. “I know, my son,” she said tenderly. “I find it difficult to imagine a satisfying marriage bed without the presence of love.”

She hesitated, then reached to unfasten the amber necklace she wore around her neck. Rhys knew his father had given it to her when they first met. His mother smiled and held out the beads. “Bend down, Rhys. I want you to have these.”

He protested. “No, I can’t accept them. Father gave them to you. My grandmother made them for him.”

“Your father would want you to have them now.”

He bent and she placed the treasured, finely crafted beads around his neck, tying the thong behind his nape. Her hands trembled. She was close to tears. He kissed her cheek.

“Now, go take your place with Baudoin to await your bride.”

***

Rhys didn’t later recollect much of the ceremony. Normally articulate and confident, he was so nervous he could barely speak his vows. Perhaps the incense had been too strong? The oak beams of the chapel ceiling weren’t high and the air became oppressive. D’Avranches looked like he’d fallen asleep.

Annalise seemed to suffer the same stuttering affliction. He remembered the sticky warmth of her hand in his. He recalled how stunningly beautiful she looked as she came into his view on her uncle’s arm, the décolletage of her shimmering dress confirming the bounty he’d suspected. His eyes wandered from her breasts to the garland of flowers wound around her head. All he could think of was unwinding them later and seeing her golden hair fall free. There was an intoxicating scent about her—a potpourri perhaps. Brides wore such to their weddings. But where was it concealed?

Above all, he remembered the kiss they’d shared at the appropriate moment. As he bent to kiss her, she licked her lips and it undid him. Her mouth was warm and moist and his tongue coaxed her lips to open. At first she resisted, but then to his surprise her lips parted. He licked the inside of her mouth, teasing her tongue. They’d both closed their eyes at first, but now each stared wide eyed at the other in confusion.

He couldn’t resist. He gently pressed his aching need against her and she blushed. He’d aroused her. They broke apart quickly, but he suspected Carys, Baudoin and his mother had all noticed. They shared a knowing smile. They were such optimists where love was concerned. Could they be right?

***

As she entered the chapel Annalise forced herself to lift her gaze from the elaborately tiled floor to look at her betrothed. He stood tall and straight. Any woman would be glad to marry this noble knight. Why couldn’t she accept him willingly? Her eyes went to the beads he wore at his neck. Hadn’t his mother worn the same necklace? It was obviously old, yet the beads shone with a golden glow. His fingers touched the necklace and he clutched the beads for a moment, as if seeking reassurance there. Was he as nervous as she?

Resting in the hand of her uncle, her palm had become sweaty. If only she could wipe it before the Earl gave her hand to Rhys. But there was no opportunity.

The incense was so strong she could hardly breathe. Was the cut of her dress too low? Were the flowers in her hair still straight? Had the heat which seemed to be rising from her body wilted them?