Medieval Master Swordsmen(42)

His brilliant blue eyes never left her face. “Quite nice,” he said. “Is that what you want?”

She turned back to the fabrics at hand, still holding on to the lamb’s wool as she fingered through the stacks. The merchant, now finished with the customer he had been helping, came to her aid; he had seen her enter the stall and sensed a big sale on the horizon. He made his way over to her, collecting two exquisite bolts of material as he went.

“My lady,” he greeted her; he was a thin man with a balding head. “I see that you have excellent taste in fabric. Try these, as well.”

He extended the bolts to her; one was a very fine and white Chainsil, usually used for pantalets and shifts, while the other was Samite, a luxurious blue twill that was both soft and heavy. She inspected both fabrics closely for both quality and defects.

“Well,” she said indecisively. “I like the lamb’s wool and the Chainsil. If I purchase both, will you give me a good price?”

The merchant beamed and Rhys stood back, watching her haggle with the old man. He found that he could not watch anything other than her, the charming way her nose wrinkled when she spoke or the graceful way in which her hands moved. When Dylan and Carys came barreling into the shop begging for coinage so that they could purchase sweets, he gave them a few coins and sent them along their way.

His attention returned to Elizabeau as she concluded her business with the merchant, content to simply listen to the sound of her voice. It would have to be enough of a memory to last him a lifetime and he struggled with thoughts he knew he should not have. With business at an end, he finally paid the man and took the parcels. Elizabeau preceded him out into the afternoon sunshine.

“Where are the horses?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“I took them to the stable around the way.”

“Oh,” she looked around expectantly. “Where do we go now?”

Rhys came up beside her, the parcels under one massive arm. He just gazed at her a moment before extending his other arm to her. She smiled faintly and took his elbow with both hands. When they resumed their walk, she laid her cheek on his enormous bicep and snuggled in close against his arm.

Rhys didn’t say anything for a moment; he just continued walking, realizing that he liked nothing better than to have her on his arm. It made him feel whole. And it further occurred to him, more than ever, that his uncle had been the wiser when he had suggested turning the escort duty over to Rod. As much as he didn’t want to, that was as much as he knew he had to. He wondered how Elizabeau was going to react, although he already knew she wasn’t going to react well at all. But he had to convince her that it was for the best.

Carys and Dylan came running at them, holding treats in their hands. Dylan was shoving pieces of candied apple into his mouth while Carys seemed to be fond of a bag of treats she was eagerly digging her fingers into.

“The man has candied pumpkin and boiled sugar,” Dylan said between bites; his mouth was so full that he was in danger of choking. “Can I have some candied pumpkin before we leave?”

Rhys just shook his head at him, slapping him lightly on the side of the head. “If you don’t explode gorging yourself first, then I will take it under consideration.”

“Rhys!” Carys was pulling on his arm. “That woman across the way has perfumed oils. Oh, please, can I please get some? Please?”

Rhys opened his mouth to deny her but caught Elizabeau’s pleading expression and rethought his answer. He pursed his lips irritably at her, just to let her know he wasn’t pleased with the request or the fact that he knew she was silently begging on Carys’ behalf. Her reaction was to smile broadly at him. He just rolled his eyes.

“I did not bring you two into town so you could put me into the poor house,” he snapped benignly at his brother and sister. “We came to purchase some needful things for… my wife, not to supply you two with enough treasures to provide for a small country.”

Elizabeau took pity on Carys’ fallen expression. She reached out and stroked the lovely red hair. “A small vial of perfumed oil will not put you into the poor house,” she said, smiling at Carys’ now-hopeful expression. “I believe we can spare a few coins for such a thing.”

Carys’ shrieked and grabbed Elizabeau by the hand, pulling her along as she danced across the avenue. Rhys couldn’t help but smile as he watched his sister drag Elizabeau towards the merchant stall. Dylan stood next to him, overloading on sweets, and Rhys shoved the two packages of material at him. The boy somehow managed to continue eating and hold two heavy bundles at the same time, trailing after his older brother as they followed the women.