Rhett eyed his nephew a moment as the commotion with the frog died down; Elizabeau had managed to remove it from her skirts and once again placed it gently into Maddoc’s hands. He watched Rhys as the man observed the interplay between his son and the lady, reading the emotions across his face. It was surprising and, frankly, pleasing given the fact that Rhys was not one to show emotion. Gwyneth had long since killed that ability in him. But with the introduction of Lady Elizabeau, Rhett could see how very much was at stake. His heart ached for his nephew.
“You are indeed that strong,” he assured Rhys. “You are the strongest man I know, the greatest knight this family has yet to see. But would you like to hear the rest of my advice? I fear you will not like it.”
Rhys lifted his big shoulders. “I already do not like it, but continue.”
“Let me recall your brother. Have Rod take her to Ogmore and be done with it.”
Rhys looked at him. “Rod?” he repeated, thinking on his younger, more volatile brother. “He’s capable, of course. But would Berwyn let him go? Rod does everything for him now that he’s so old.”
Rhett laid a meaty hand on Rhys’ arm. “I’ll send word to Bronllys right away. Rod can be here in a few days.”
Rhys didn’t say anything. He returned his attention to Elizabeau and Maddoc, who had now lost the frog in the grass and were attempting to capture it again. As his uncle shuffled away, Rhys made his way over to the pair in the weeds. With every step he took, his heart was breaking just a little more.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The town of Llandogo was a few miles to the south of Whitebrook, a village that was at a major crossing across the River Severn and heavily populated by merchants and seamen. It was early afternoon when Rhys and Elizabeau left to do their shopping, taking Dylan and Carys along with them. Rhys thought it would be safer that way because if his siblings were along, then he and Elizabeau would have no privacy to discuss the things he was desperately attempting to avoid. But, on the other hand, he sorely regretted not having any time alone with her. It was an odd paradox.
Elizabeau rode with him atop his charger while Dylan rode his leggy brown gelding and Carys plodded along on her gray palfrey. The two younger siblings were thrilled to be away from Whitebrook and excited at the prospect of spending the afternoon in Llandogo. Only Rhys and Elizabeau seemed silent, either lost to their own thoughts or paying attention to everything else but each other. If Carys and Dylan noticed, they did not let on.
Llandogo was about an hour’s ride. As they came upon the outskirts of the town, they began to run into the traveling merchants and gypsies that set up on the side of the road and attempted to lure customers to their wares. Carys was immediately taken with the pretty merchandise that a swarthy, round woman sold from the rear of her wagon, long strips of colored fabric that blew softly in the breeze. But Rhys would not let her stop to look and, disappointed, she plodded along gloomily behind her brother.
Dylan found a dog show in progress as they came upon the main street of merchants. The man had six small dogs that he had trained to do tricks, and several children gathered around to watch with delight. Before Rhys could stop him, Dylan had climbed off his horse and was involving himself in the dogs’ antics. When the tiny white mutt did a flip, Dylan cheered loudly. Then he immediately wanted a dog, to which Rhys told him no.
Rhys dismounted his destrier with the intention of collecting his younger brother; the lad was trying to negotiate to buy the little dog that had performed the flip. Elizabeau stayed mounted for a moment, watching the way Rhys moved; he stalked like a cat, a gait that was both powerful and frightening. It made her heart swell just to watch him. Attempting to distract herself from thoughts of him, she caught sight of a merchant stall off to her left and slid off of the charger. The fine products hanging outside of the stand had her interest and she made her way through the traffic towards it.
Leather satchels had initially caught her eye and she inspected the bags that hung in the doorway. They were very finely made and she also inspected a pair of leather boots that were unfinished, just waiting for the right buyer so they could be tailored to the foot. Wandering further into the stall, she came across bolts of material stacked one atop the other. It smelled strongly of dust and fabric. She fingered her way through very fine linen, colorful tweeds and tartans, silks, and finally a pale lamb’s wool that was so soft, it was as if it were made from clouds. Elizabeau picked up the bundle of material, rubbing it against her cheek.
“So you have found something already?”
Rhys’ voice came from behind and she turned to look at him, her face still against the fabric. “Feel this,” she held it out and rubbed it against his cheek. “Isn’t that lovely?”