Here Be Dragons - 1 by Sharon Penman (best inspirational books txt) 📕

that, if she but leaned forward, she could see captured in the pupils of Catherine's eyes the firelit image of a fifteen-year-old girl and a nineteen-year-old boy upon a pile of blankets in a summer hafod.

225She hesitated; as candid as Catherine had been, it somehow seemed rong t°question her now, an unwelcome intrusion into a past not for haring- At last she said shyly, "Catherine . . . when did you stop being fraid? Do you remember?"Catherine's eyes shifted to her face, no longer clouded, remote. "Oh, yes, Irememberwhen Rhys first struck that candle."She glanced down at her wedding ring; it was of an unusual, almost primitive design, a heavy gold studded with gemstones. "We sent the priest who married us to my family. My father swore he'd never forgive me. But within a yearLlewelyn had won that brilliant, bloody victory at the mouth of the Conwy, had laid claim to half of Gwynedd, and Rhys was ever at his right handwas his right hand. My father died nigh on ten years ago, but he lived to see his first grandson. And my brothers come often to Tregarnedd.""You've been very lucky," Joanna said slowly.Catherine's smile was radiant, innocent. "I know," she said.Joanna found herself looking, too, at Catherine's wedding band. It did not surprise her in the least that Catherine should have been so easily seduced.What girl would have chosen an aging, ungainly neighbor over a reckless, lovestruck youth with the nerve of a highwayman and the face of a dark angel?But beneath the undeniably romantic appeal of Catherine's tale, Joanna felt the tug of common sense. What if Catherine had, indeed, cared for her greying knight? If she had resented being carried off as a prize of war? What might have happened then?No, for all that Catherine had obviously found all she'd ever wanted in that deserted hafod, Joanna could not but think Catherine's luck had been stretched to the very limit and then some. And yet she was aware of an undercurrent of envy. For Catherine had one treasure beyond value, had what she'd have given anything in the world to have herselfthe rare and precious certainty that her husband loved her, not for what she could bring to his coffers, not for castles or bloodlines or connections, but for herself alone.

18RHOSYR, NORTH WALESNovember 1206"Cv./*VATRIN, my love!" Llewelyn turned, swept Catherine up in a lover's embrace, then gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. Laughing, she hugged him back"Have you some moments to spare? I need to talk, Llewelyn." "For you, always .. . day or night." As he led her toward the window seat, it occurred toCatherine that her relationship with Llewelynteasing, affectionate, mildly flirtatiouswas one an insecure, jealous young wife might possibly misconstrue.She would, she thought regretfully, have to strive for greater decorum. Apity, for as much as she liked to flirt, that was a game she dared play withLlewelyn alone. Having led an all but cloistered life prior to her marriage, she'd then made the belated discovery that it could be fun to talk and tease and coqueta littlewith other men, to her an innocent diversion that did not in the least diminish her love for Rhys. But she'd also discovered that her husband was intensely possessive, begrudged her any and all male cornpanionship, no matter how innocent . . . save only for Ednyved andLlewelyn. Ednyved was little inclined to flattery, even less so to gallantry, but in Llewelyn, Catherine had found a kindred spirit, and they'd established a rapport from their first meeting. In the beginning, an unsettling misgiving had imperiled Catherine's peace, the suspicion that if her husband toleratedLlewelyn's banter and familiarity while bristling if another man so much as glanced in her direction, it must be that Rhys trusted Llewelyn but did not truly trust her. That was so disturbinga thought, however, that Catherine had swiftly buried it deep; hers was not a nature to probe for that which she'd rather not know. "How is my godson and namesake?""As much of a hellion as you were at his age . . . and still are." "Do not be cruel, Catrin," Llewelyn said and grinned. "It is good to

227you back at court. Joanna tells me your newest babe is as beautiful hg her mother; how does she?"3 "Gwenifer is fine." Catherine paused. "I just wish I could say as much for Joanna.""What do you mean?"Catherine did not reply at once. Having already plunged into the ater, it was no ^me now *° ^"e worrying if she'd gotten in over her head. But she could not suppress a nervous qualm or two. As fond asLlewelyn was of her, he was not likely to thank her for pointing out all his shortcomings as a husband."We've been friends for nigh on thirteen years. I must hope that our friendship does give me the right to speak plainly . . . about Joanna and you.You've not done right by her, Llewelyn; I know no other way to say it than that.""Indeed?" Llewelyn was both surprised and annoyed. Leaning back in the seat, he gave her a distinctly cool look. "I do not know to whom you've been listening, Catrin, but you are wrong. I think I've been very good to Joanna.Even ere we were married. I spared no expense in having her chamber made ready for her. Nor have I denied her anything since we've been wed, have given her whatever she asks for, have made sure that none do speak disparagingly of her father in her hearing, that she's accorded the respect due her as my wife.I've been patient, too, keeping in mind her youth, have not forced her against her will, and I've taken care that my liaison with Cristyn should not cause her hurt. Now if that is not doing right by her, what more would you have me do?"Catherine bit her lip. Rhys had an unfortunate and infuriating tendency to stalk out whenever he was irked with her; she felt sure