In the Shadow of Midnight - By Marsha Canham Page 0,65
normal on the journey? There would be enough spice to satisfy her quest for adventure if she believed she was outmaneuvering the king by having Snowdonia as her final destination and not Radnor.
“Uncle …?”
He looked up and realized he must have been staring at his wine for some time without hearing what she was saying. Before he could bring his thoughts back in proper focus again, they took another unsettling leap—to Pembroke this time. To the face of another whose safety was being placed in jeopardy without her knowledge or consent.
Sweet Isabella. Ariel had inherited her aunt’s delicate features and lithe, coltish body. If not for the flame red hair and dragon green eyes of a De Clare throwback, it might have been his dear wife dropping to her knees in front of him. Verily, it might have been Isabella moistening her lips and gazing up at him with a wistful smile that said, give me but a moment to explain the foolishness of the world and you will see that my way is the only way.
William held his own smile in check but braced himself anyway.
“Uncle … I know I have been a great deal of trouble to you over the years.” She halted in anticipation of a denial, and when one was not forthcoming, she frowned and continued as if it had. “You must also know that none of it was due to a need to be truly willful or troublesome. If I have not picked a husband before now, it is because none of them have measured by half the fine example you have set before me. You call it being contrary and fastidious; I call it unfair that I should have to settle for someone not as strong, as bold, as kind, as loving, as honourable as my own Uncle Will.”
He could feel himself starting to curl around her little finger and took refuge in another draught of wine.
“Indeed,” she continued, “you have always treated Henry and me as if we had sprung from your own seed.”
“I am glad to hear it. I would not want to think I had been so mean and overbearing as to rouse feelings of vindictiveness in either of you.”
“We would do nothing … nothing to hurt you or Lady Isabella!” Ariel cried sincerely. “Surely you know this?”
William’s eyes narrowed. “Just as you must know I would not force you to do anything your heart was set against. If you harbour strong objections to this Welsh prince—if his nose is too large, or his legs too spindly—then by all means, voice them now and I will place myself and my sword between you and the king’s choler, regardless of the consequences.”
Ariel gazed steadily up into the penetrating blue eyes and knew, despite the wry twist behind his words, he was making both their positions quite clear. She was the one who had chosen to defy the king’s orders; she did not have a choice now and neither did he.
“Lord Rhys has a fine nose,” she said softly. “And his legs are as straight as pillars.”
“Your aunt did mention, now that I recall, he was a handsome rogue.”
Ariel lowered her head and rested her cheek on William’s knee. She tried hard to conjure an image of Rhys ap Iorwerth in her mind, but the best she could manage was a picture of a man who was dark and bearded, powerful in stature … with a slain fawn slung over the crupper of his saddle.
“Will you be happier with him than with the gaoler’s son?” William asked quietly, smoothing a gnarled hand over the shiny crown of her head.
“I will be content,” she said.
“Have no fear—he will know, by the terms of the agreement and by the dower estates I contract into his keeping, that I place an extremely high value on your safety and continuing happiness.”
She tilted her chin up and smiled. “Mayhap it will temper his need to lift so many of your cattle.” “Aye. We can always hope.”
They shared a few moments of comfortable silence before Ariel ventured to speak again.
“Uncle … I will be more than content with Lord Rhys for a husband, but … must I endure the company of the Bastard d’Amboise for an escort? Henry and Sedrick managed well enough on their own to find their way here; surely you trust them well enough to follow their noses home again.”
“It is not a question of trust, child, it is a matter of necessity. In the short