A Moment in Time

been bigamous in the eyes of the Church, and the children born of it, bastards.'

'Do not fret, good lady,' Madoc soothed her. 'All is well now.'

'When will you marry my sister, Wynne?' Dewi asked bluntly.

'On Beltaine next, if it suits her, and if she will have me,' the prince said quietly.

'I have no wish to marry now,' Wynne replied, wondering where she got the strength to say it when she was suddenly feeling weak and helpless with the relief of her narrow escape from Rhys.

'Are you of a mind to join your life with that of the Church, lady?' Madoc asked her, and when Wynne shook her head, he continued, 'Then eventually you must wed. Since I am your betrothed husband and no other suits you, then you must wed with me.' Reaching out, he took her slender hand in his and, startled, she could feel the strength flow from him directly into her body. 'Do I displease you so then, lady?' he said gently, his marvelous eyes searching her face.

'How can you displease me, my lord, when I do not even know you?' Wynne said, carefully averting her eyes from his.

'That is precisely why I have affixed our wedding day almost a year from now, dearling,' he told her, and what his look had been unable to accomplish, the sweet sobriquet he gave her did. Heat began once more to race through her body.

'It is more than fair,' Dewi said, much to his sister's surprise. 'It is most generous. Since you have no passion for the Church, then you must honor this betrothal our father made and wed Prince Madoc, Wynne.'

'Did you not swear to me that the choice would be mine?' she insisted almost angrily.

'Aye, and I will not go back on my word, sister, but if not Madoc of Powys, who ? You will be sixteen in December, and you have already refused several suitors of good family and reputation. You are not in love with anyone to my knowledge, and now we learn you are betrothed to this man. I know I need not fear for my life with this husband of yours, as I felt I must fear Rhys of St. Bride's. Madoc does not seek to have my lands. Indeed, his family's reputation will keep me safe from those who might otherwise dare to wrest Gwernach from me.'

Wynne was astounded by her younger brother's knowledge and firm grasp of the situation. Yesterday he had been but a naughty boy gone birding. Now he spoke with mature dignity and logic. She did not know how to fight him under these circumstances. Everything he said was true, even if he was but a child. 'And if in getting to know you, my lord,' she addressed Madoc, 'I find we do not suit… you will set me free?'

He nodded slowly. 'I want no unwilling woman to wife, lady. After the harvest and your sisters' marriages, I will take you with me to my home at Raven's Rock. You will keep my sister Nesta company until the Solstice, when we celebrate her marriage to Rhys. In that time we will get to know one another. Come the long winter when we are alone, we shall truly see if we are suited. Will that please you, Wynne of Gwernach?'

'But to leave Gwernach!' she protested.

'Come, sister!' Dewi said a trifle impatiently. 'Surely you cannot expect the prince of Wenwynwyn to remain here courting you. You will go to Raven's Rock Castle with him after the harvest and begin to familiarize yourself with your new domain. And now that that is settled, I would change my clothes. I am still damp to the bone from my adventures.' He arose from the table. 'Come and help me, Grandmother.'

'Your eyes have the look of a netted bird,' Madoc noted as they watched Dewi and Enid depart the hall.

Wynne turned, startled, surprised that he could read her so easily. 'My brother likes you,' she said, avoiding his reference, 'and because he does he will see that our marriage takes place whether I want it or not, no matter he tells me the choice is mine. For the first time since our father's death he is behaving like a true lord of Gwernach despite his youth and inexperience.

'You have taught him well, lady, but have no fears. My pride is not so overweening that should you refuse me I will suffer, or Gwernach will suffer. The choice is truly yours. I swear it!'

'Why can no one understand that I simply do not wish to wed?' Wynne said despairingly.

'Why do you not wish to marry, lady?' he inquired gently. 'Have you some dislike for men?'

'I do not think so, my lord,' Wynne said. 'No! I do like men.'

'Then what is it that makes you struggle like an animal in a trap against the inevitable, lady?' he probed.

'I would be free!' she said. 'No man's possession! My own mistress!'

'And so you shall be when you are my wife, Wynne of Gwernach. Far more free than you are now, dearling, for now you are caught in a snare of your own making. You have woven it tightly using fear and ignorance, but you shall escape this pitfall soon, dearling, for I shall give you the greatest weapon of all with which to fight your own fears.'

'What is it?' she almost whispered, his words sending a small thrill through her veins.

'Love,' was the simple answer. 'Love is the greatest weapon known to man, Wynne. You will see, my dearling. You will soon see!'

Chapter 3

The harvest was adequate. Husbanded carefully, there would be enough to feed both Gwernach's cattle and Gwernach's people in the coming winter. The summer had been wet, but not as wet as previous years. There had been enough sunshine to ripen the grain and dry the hay. The growing season over, the weather had become sunny and mild. The grass was thick and lush on the wooded hillsides where Gwernach's milk cows grazed peacefully. The apples hung in the orchards, growing plumper and sweeter with each passing day.

In the hall, Wynne, Enid, and little Mair oversaw the many preparations for the double wedding to be celebrated in three days' time. Dewi and Einion had gone hunting a final time in an effort to add to their larder. The bridegrooms, accompanied by Rhys, would not arrive until the night before the nuptials. Madoc and his sister, however, were expected tomorrow.

He stayed at Gwernach but one night those three months ago, and he had not come since. He had written to her-some letters sweet, some of a more practical nature-several times over the past weeks. He had sent her gifts that had had Caitlin pea-green with envy, for her betrothed had sent but one item, an ill-fashioned necklace that even Wynne had to agree was ugly. There was an ivory box that had contained half-a-dozen beautiful gold hairpins set with creamy pearls. A fine chain of Irish red-gold. A necklace of garnet and one of amethyst, each with matching earrings. A willow cage containing a pale green finch who sang more sweetly than any Wynne had known had arrived one day. Soft-hearted, she had attempted to free the little creature, but though it flew about the hall and the gardens, each night it returned to its cage, where it tucked its tiny head beneath its wing to sleep most soundly until first light.

A month after Madoc had left them, his messenger had arrived with several bolts of fabric: brocade, silk, fine soft wools, sheer delicate linens, and jeweled ribbons in every hue of the rainbow.

'With my lord's compliments,' the young page had said as his men-at-arms brought this sudden and unexpected bounty into the hall. 'He suggests that perhaps you might find amongst his offerings something that would please your sisters to wear upon their wedding day.'

With a single and unabashed shriek of delight, Caitlin and Dilys fell upon the fabric and were instantly embroiled in a violent quarrel over who should have which.

'Please thank my lord Madoc for his kind thoughtfulness,' Wynne replied, offering refreshments to the page and his men before they left. She then turned her attention to her sisters. 'Cease your bickering immediately,' she threatened them, 'or you shall have nothing. I would remind you that the fabrics are mine to do with as I please. Grandmother shall have the first pick, then Dewi and Mair. Only then will I allow you your choice.'

'That's not fair!' Caitlin protested. 'We are the brides! We should choose first!'

'Argue further with me,' Wynne said darkly in a threatening tone, 'and you shall find yourself wed in your shift, your hair cut to show the lord of Coed your true spousal servitude.'

'I am content to wait my turn,' Dilys said quickly, dropping her grip upon a swatch of brocade, her hand going