“Well? What’s it to be?” John persisted, refusing to be fobbed off. “One dance. That’s all I ask.”
Reluctantly, Alys accepted, and he pulled her into the circle of dancers, wrapping his arm around her waist as he moved her this way and that, his face close to hers, his gaze watchful. Alys went through the motions but pulled out of his grasp as soon as the tune came to an end.
“I really must help Mistress Sweeney.”
John smiled down at her. “I like a woman who understands her duty and knows her place.” He bowed to her from the neck and moved away, returning to the table to pour himself another cup of ale.
“It’s my turn, Alys,” Matthew said, materializing out of the dark. He looked flushed, his gaze bright with either merriment or drink.
“Not just now, Matthew,” Alys said, annoyed with him for not coming to her rescue earlier. She suddenly wished she could slip away and return to the house, where she could be blessedly alone for the last time before Will brought his bride to their family home.
“Oh, come now. Why so glum?” Matthew asked. “Give us a dance, fair Alys. Let’s show Selby how it’s really done,” he whispered in her ear, and she grinned despite her earlier pique.
Ever since she was a little girl, Matthew had had the power to tease her out of a foul mood and make her forget what she was cross about. He was her friend, her confidant, and the man she’d always thought she’d marry.
“All right, but just the one,” Alys replied coyly, smiling up at him. It was only lately that she’d realized how handsome Matthew really was, his blue eyes like the summer sky and his fair hair the color of ripe wheat. He was tall and strong, a man who made you feel safe and protected, unlike John Selby, who brought out all her defensive instincts every time he so much as approached her.
“That’s all I ask,” Matthew said as he swept her into his arms and maneuvered her into the center of the circle of dancers.
Dancing with Matthew was easy and fun, and Alys forgot all her silly worries as he expertly twirled her in time to the music, his strong arms guiding her effortlessly. Alys felt light and gay, and suddenly a bit more hopeful about the future. Like all young girls, she worried about what life held in store for her. She was eighteen, ripe for marriage and more than ready for a home and hearth of her own. Matthew still lived with his parents, but she loved his family and would feel no reservations about coming into their house as his bride. Matthew’s mother was warm and kind, just like her son, and would welcome Alys, treating her as a beloved daughter rather than an extra pair of hands to see to the list of chores that never seemed to diminish.
“Come for a walk,” Matthew said. They’d been dancing for a long while and were both winded and in need of a cool drink.
“But Mistress Sweeney—” Alys protested, feeling a pang of guilt at neglecting her duties as sister of the groom.
“Will find someone else to do her bidding,” Matthew finished for her. “Ye’ve been on yer feet since dawn.”
“Aye, I have,” Alys agreed. “And I’m weary.”
“We can find a quiet place to sit down and rest for a bit.”
Alys allowed Matthew to lead her away, but not before she caught the baleful gaze of John Selby, his eyes narrowed as he watched the pair.
“Selby’s in the market for a new wife,” Matthew said once they were out of earshot of the guests.
“And his wife barely cold in her grave,” Alys replied. “Does he not even grieve her?”
“A man can’t afford to grieve too long when he has small children to raise. His sister’s run off her feet looking after his three and her own brood. His children need a mother, and he needs a woman to warm his bed. He’s not the sort to go without a woman’s company, and he’s set his sights on ye.”
“I don’t like him, Matthew.”
“I know, but don’t be too quick to make an enemy of him,” Matthew said.
“Or what?”
“Or he’ll find someone else, and ye might need someone to turn to in the coming months.”
Alys looked away, desperate to hide the bitter disappointment that settled like a stone in her belly. She wished Matthew would ask her to marry him, but he never looked at her as a man should. He was brotherly, for lack of a better word. In fact, he seemed to avoid romantic entanglements altogether. At twenty-two and with a good trade to rely on, he was at an age to marry and start a family, but he didn’t seem in any rush to take a bride, and how long could she wait for him to see her as a prospective wife?
She’d never considered anyone else, for in truth, she was too wary of trusting a man. A devoted wife was never disloyal to her husband, but Alys had seen the tears and heard the cries of women whose husbands, once so full of love, now spoke with their fists and punished their wives for the slightest transgression. John Selby’s wives had never worn obvious bruises, but Alys was sure he would brook no argument and take his wife to task with all the enthusiasm of a man who needed to be master in his own home.
“Matthew, give me the benefit of a man’s perspective. Why did Bess choose Will when there are others who might have been better suited to her in both temperament and looks?” Alys asked.
“Because she’s clever,” Matthew replied. “She wasn’t looking for a husband who’s handsome or
