There were dozens of perfumed oils and pomades. While Elizabeau only smelled them, Carys began to rub everything on her arm. In short order, she was quite pungent and Dylan began to complain that it was making his head hurt. Insulted, Carys slapped Dylan on the arm but was prevented from doing further damage by Rhys, who took her by the shoulder and pushed her back towards the perfume vials. Elizabeau handed her one to distract her.
“What do you think of this?” she asked Carys.
Carys sniffed the vial, long and heavy. “It’s too strong. What is it?”
“Hyacinth.” As Carys went back to the selection, Elizabeau held the vial up to Rhys. “I rather like it. What do you say?”
Rhys’ brilliant blue eyes were riveted to her face, even as he took a sniff. “Sweet,” he said quietly. Like you. He wouldn’t say what he was thinking.
In the end, Carys had three vials of perfumed oil and Elizabeau had a tub of fragrant pomade that was guaranteed to soothe the skin. Dylan wanted his candied pumpkin so Rhys gave him more money and the lad ran off. Rhys and the ladies wandered down the avenue until they came to the seamstress with pre-made garments, including several shifts that had only been basted together and were hung from the rafters for show. One was a long sleeved concoction of Chainsil, as delicate and soft as a spider’s web, and Elizabeau had the woman take it down from its hanger so she could see it. Other than the fact that it was too long, it looked as if it was the correct size. A second shift of finely combed and blue-dyed wool completed the purchase.
Elizabeau and Rhys had spent a good deal of the afternoon interacting over trivial things but not speaking any more than necessary. By this time, Carys was catching on; it was difficult not to. She began to watch the interaction between her brother and his wife, wondering why they acted so strangely towards one another. The glances they would cast at each other would have caught fire to the nearest kindling, so hot were they. But their words were very superficial to the point of being disinterested. She looped her arm through Elizabeau’s as they made their way from the shop.
“May I ask a question?” she said, leaning her cheek on Elizabeau’s shoulder and focusing on her with her big dark eyes.
“Of course,” Elizabeau replied as she handed her package over to Rhys.
“Do you love my brother?”
Elizabeau looked at her, trying to suppress her shock. “Well,” she licked her lips, casting Rhys a long glance. “I… I suppose that I do.”
“Did you love him at first sight or did it take time to develop?”
“It took some time.”
“So you did not love him the first time you saw him?”
Elizabeau thought back to that stormy night, the enormous warrior covered in weapons and mail. It seemed like a lifetime ago. “Nay,” she replied quietly. “Not at first.”
“Why not?”
“Because he was dressed for battle. He scared me to death.”
Carys grinned as Rhys entered the conversation. “Your questions are quite personal, Carys,” he admonished quietly. “Perhaps Julianna does not wish to speak of it. Those are private memories meant only for the two of us.”
Carys was still holding on to Elizabeau’s arm. “But I do not ask of a first kiss, only of the first glimpse. Why is that wrong?”
“It is not,” Elizabeau insisted, smiling weakly at Rhys as she did so. “I do not mind speaking of the first time I saw your massive, frightening, war-mongering brother.”
Rhys’ eyebrows went up. “War-mongering?” he repeated sarcastically. “Pray, such kind words.”
He and Elizabeau began to laugh at each other but Carys would not be left out. Whatever Rhys and his wife had, she wanted it, too. Or at least she wanted to know about it.
“When did you know you loved him?” Carys insisted. “I mean, was it soon after you met? Was it when you were married? When?”
Elizabeau’s smile faded, trying not to gaze dreamily at Rhys. Now the conversation was beginning to hurt. “It was probably shortly after we met,” she said with a slight shrug. “I cannot remember exactly when or how. It just… happened.”
“But you did know.”
“Aye, I did know.”
Elizabeau averted her gaze from the young girl, fighting off the sorrow that threatened. But Carys continued to hold her arm, enraptured with the romance between her brother and his wife.
“I hope that I know, too,” she sighed. “Perhaps he will be a handsome lord or prince and take me away to live with him in his castle. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
Rhys could see that Elizabeau did not wish to speak of it any longer. He could see that she was hurting, just as he was. That which they had been trying to avoid all afternoon was now more prevalent than ever. He peeled his sister off of Elizabeau.