“Get out,” he commanded softly. “You’ll catch chill if you’re in there any longer.”
Elizabeau gazed up at him, realizing their line of conversation had taken him back to the cold, walled-up knight she had known for the bulk of their association. She further realized she was very sorry; he had proven something of a good conversationalist and she was disappointed that her line of questioning had shut him off again.
“Rhys,” she said softly, sincerely. “I am very sorry if I upset you with my question about your wife. I did not mean to stir up sorrowful memories.”
“You did not, my lady,” he said, though his tone was cold. He shook the sheet slightly. “Come along, now. Get out of the tub and dry yourself.”
It was apparent he had no intention of either delving into anything more about his wife or accepting her apology. With a heavy sigh, Elizabeau reached out and pulled the sheet from his hand.
“Turn around,” she instructed him. “You promised not to look and I see that you have already partially broken that promise.”
She had meant it in jest, one last hope that he would loosen to her humor. But he turned away without a word and went back to the window. Elizabeau watched his stiff back a moment before climbing from the tub and wrapping herself tightly in the sheet. There was a small stool next to the hearth; she pulled it away from the wall and sat directly in front of the fire to warm up and dry out.
She wasn’t surprised when he quit the room without a word and disappeared into the stormy night.
***
Elizabeau wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep on the small, lumpy bed. The fire in the hearth had died somewhat and the room was chilly when she heard the door open again. Startled, she rolled over to see Rhys locking the door behind him. She also noticed that he had an armful of material.
Rubbing her eyes, she sat up with the linen sheet still wrapped tightly around her body. It was dark in the room and difficult to see just what, exactly, he had.
“What have you got there?” she demanded sleepily. “Where did you go?”
He moved to the bed with some kind of garment in his hands. He held it up to her, nearly striking her in the face with it.
“I went to see our fat friend,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that I selected your garments. You were in no condition to select them yourself, being that you only had a sheet to wear, so I selected them for you. I hope you are pleased.”
“Good lord,” she muttered, eyeing him in the weak light. But she dutifully fingered the garment he was offering to her, inspecting it as she tried to blink the sleep from her eyes. Upon closer inspection, it was a lovely wine-colored damask with exquisite craftsmanship.
She took the garment from him and padded over to the hearth where the light was better. It was a finely made surcoat of a ruby-rich fabric, lined in soft pink wool, with a square neckline and long, draping sleeves. The sleeves from the elbow down were made from the same colored brocade, giving the garment a delightfully detailed look. It was, in fact, very beautiful. Curiosity made her wander over to the chair where he had draped the other garments and she inspected her way through surcoats of cloud-soft yellow lamb’s wool, light blue Perse fabric that was similar to very soft linen, and pale green broadcloth. Upon further notice, she came across a soft leather girdle, two delicate shifts, a pair of soft woolen hose, a pair of doeskin gloves, a bleached wool cloak and a pair of bright red silk pantalets.
The pantalets were at the bottom of the pile and she held them up to Rhys, almost accusingly.
“Why on earth did you buy these?” she demanded, peering at him from around the garment. “They’re… they’re….”
“The latest from Paris,” Rhys told her helpfully. “The merchant says that he cannot keep them in stock. All finely dressed women demand them.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him before returning her dubious eyes to the pantalets. She fingered them; they were very soft. She imagined they would feel nice against her skin. With a shrug, she laid them back with the other garments and turned to him.
“I cannot pay you for these at the moment,” she said with some embarrassment. “I am afraid that my coinage is in London. We left so quickly that…”
He waved her off. “De Burgh supplied me with more than enough to cover expenses. You needn’t worry.”
He seemed to be in a better humor than he had when he had left the room earlier. It was a curious mood, as if he had blown off his depression in the past hour and then returned to her without a grudge. Not wanting to upset him again, she took a deep breath and forced a smile.