A Memory of Love

entirely unpleasant. She did not pull her hand away from his.

He drew her close and said softly, 'Put your head upon my chest, Rhonwyn, and let me hold you for a moment.' His arms came about her, but his grip was an easy one she might have broken away from if she chose to do so. 'You are so beautiful, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn,' he told her. 'Your hair is like moonbeams that have been spun with the sunlight by spiders. And it is as soft as thistledown, wife.'

Her cheek rested against his doublet just below his shoulder. She could smell the scent of him, and it was not unpleasant.

Reaching out, he captured her chin between his thumb and his forefinger, tilting her head up to him. 'You have eyes like emeralds.'

'What are emeralds?' she asked ingenuously.

'The green jewels in my sword's hilt,' he told her.

'You think my eyes are like green stones? For that is what those pieces of glass are. Green stones,' Rhonwyn told him, not certain that what he had obviously meant as a compliment was truly a compliment.

Edward laughed. 'Don't be so damned practical,' he scolded her, and then he brushed her lips lightly with his before releasing his grip on her. 'Emeralds are, in their unset form, exquisite jewels, and your eyes are exquisite, wife.'

Her mouth was tingling as it had when he had kissed her at the altar. It was rather nice, she thought. 'Your eyes are like a rainy sky,' she told him, 'and your hair is like an oak leaf in November.'

He grinned at her. ' ‘Tis as pretty a compliment as I have ever received, wife.'

Rhonwyn giggled. 'I think you mad, my lord,' she said. 'Now I must go about my chores, for just because Glynn has departed and you are of a mind to play the gallant does not mean I have been relieved of tasks.' She curtsied to him, and turning, hurried off.

Edward watched her go. He felt they had made a good beginning this morning. In the months she had been his wife he had grown to genuinely like Rhonwyn. He had told her the truth when he had said he had deeper feelings burgeoning within him. And it had all happened without kisses or copulation, much to his surprise. He had done what he must on their wedding night, but now that he knew her, he honestly desired her. He had heard of women for whom passion had no meaning. He hoped that his wife was not one of them. He prayed silently that she simply needed to be awakened. There was no pleasure in just satisfying an itch. He could do that with any female. He wanted to really love her and have her love him in return. Until now it had been easy to be patient. He sensed it would not be any longer.

That evening he invited her to play at dice with him, laughing when she won a silver penny. 'You have been well taught, lady,' he complimented her. 'Next time I shall challenge you to a game of chess instead,' he finished with a wry grin, rising from the game table and moving to his chair by the fire.

'I am skilled at that as well, my lord Edward,' she told him.

The hall was empty, the servants gone. A fire burned in the fireplace flanked by their great stone lions. Edward de Beaulieu now sat in the master's chair with its leather seat and back.

'Will you sit in my lap, Rhonwyn?' he asked her.

What harm could there be in it? she thought. Rising from the game table, she sat herself within the curve of his arms. They remained quietly for a time, and then Rhonwyn said, 'The harvest has proved to be excellent, my lord. The granaries are full. The orchards are ready to be picked, and if the rain holds off, we shall be able to start tomorrow.'

'Why does your hair smell like heather?' he asked her, sniffing.

'Enit's mother makes the oil we put in my soap,' she replied. 'The apple crop would appear to be bounteous. We should begin pressing the cider in another week or two.'

'It's delicious, wife. The scent is delicate and suits you well.' He sniffed again, and then kissed the top of her gilt head.

'My lord! Do you not wish to know how we fare here at Haven?'

'Tell me after the mass when we break our fast on the morrow,' he said. 'The evening hours should be for gentler pursuits.' Then he tilted her back in his arms and kissed her, a lingering soft kiss that to Rhonwyn's surprise set her pulses racing. But as quickly as his mouth had made such delicious contact, he tipped her gently from his lap. 'Go to your bed now, wife. I bid you pleasant dreams. I know that I shall have them this night.'

Slightly dazed, she walked from the hall and climbed the winding staircase to her chambers. Enit was awaiting her and helped her prepare for bed. Finally alone, Rhonwyn lay in her bed, eyes wide open, considering what had happened this day. Would she be able to overcome her aversion to her husband's passion? She was beginning to hope she could.

The following day they had surprise visitors. Edward was in the orchards overseeing the apple picking. Alfred rushed into the hall where his mistress was seated, weaving a tapestry that would be placed over the fireplace. The steward was flushed and pale by turns.

'My lady! My lady! The lord Edward and his wife are but a mile from Haven! The messenger has just now come. What are we to do?'

'The lord Edward?' Rhonwyn was slightly confused.

'The prince, my lady! King Henry's son with his lady wife. What shall I do?'

Rhonwyn stood up. 'We do not know if they will remain the night, but have the best guest chamber prepared just in case they do. Did the messenger say how many are in their party? The cook must be able to feed them all and well, no matter. Send John to the orchards to fetch my lord immediately! I must go and change my gown. I cannot greet the king's son looking like this. Hurry, Alfred! Hurry!' She ran from the hall, calling as she went, 'Enit! To me, lass!'

But Enit, by some magic known only to servants, was already in her mistress's garderobe, pulling out a more elegant gown for her lady to wear. It was apple green silk with a sleeveless overgown of deeper green and silver brocade. She lay it with a silver brocaded girdle upon the bed even as Rhonwyn hurried into the chamber, pulling her everyday kirtle over her head as she came. After dressing Rhonwyn, Enit quickly redid her hair, parting it in the center and plaiting it, and then fixing the braids about Rhonwyn's head. A gauze veil with a small silver circlet completed the attire.

'Thank you,' Rhonwyn said, jumping up and hurrying from her chamber. It simply would not do to have the prince and his wife arrive and have neither she nor Edward be there to greet them. She ran down the stairs, hearing Enit coming behind her.

In the hall the servants were running back and forth with wine and plates of fruit and cheese for the high board. The fire was built higher. Edward dashed in, his handsome face streaked with dirt. Seeing his wife, he gave her a wave and bolted out again, heading to his own chamber to change his clothing.

'They're at the foot of the hill, lady,' Alfred said as a young lad ran in to whisper to him.

Rhonwyn swallowed hard. There was nothing for it. She would have to greet the prince and his wife alone. She walked from the great hall, down the corridor a short distance, and out the door of the castle to stand a moment on the stairway landing, even as the lord Edward and his wife rode into the courtyard. Then she glided down the staircase, reaching them as the prince dismounted and lifted his lady from her horse.

Rhonwyn curtsied gracefully and low. 'My lord Edward, my lady Eleanor, I bid you welcome to Haven Castle.'

The prince raised her up and looked directly into her face. 'So you are ap Gruffydd's wench,' he said.

'I am, my lord,' Rhonwyn replied.

'You are not at all what I expected. The Welsh are dark, are they not, lady?'

'Most are, my lord, but my mother descended from a race who were known as the Fair Folk. While I resemble ap Gruffydd in features, I have my mother's coloring.'

'You are far prettier than ap Gruffydd,' Prince Edward said with a small chuckle. He turned away from her a moment. 'Mon coeur, this is the prince of the Welsh's daughter and the wife of Edward