Chapter Seven #4
Curtis cocked his head. “My father has native Welsh scouts who know much of Brython,” he said. “They have never told him this tale.”
She smiled faintly. “That is because it is a Welsh prophecy,” she said. “We do not share our prophecies with outworlders. That is you, in case you did not know it.”
He smiled, an ironic gesture. “I have been called worse,” he said. But he quickly sobered. “So you are telling me that the reason you have fought so viciously for Brython is because it’s a sacred site?”
Elle nodded. “Would you not protect such a place fiercely?”
“I would,” he said. “But you were content whilst there were English soldiers here. Brython was quiet. The trouble came after you purged the soldiers.”
“I know,” she said. “But it was time for the English to go. This is no place for them.”
“But the English have it now,” he reminded her. “I have it now. Did it occur to you that had you never sent the English away, you would not have lost the castle?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said truthfully. “I thought we could hold it. I tried.”
Curtis’ grin returned. “You held out for a month against the most feared warlord on the marches,” he said. “That is quite an accomplishment.”
She couldn’t give in to his humor about the situation. “But it was not enough in the end.”
His smile faded. “Nay, it was not,” he said.
“But here is something else you might not have realized. The truth is that this is a very valuable castle, and even if I decide to go away and leave it to the Welsh, there will be other English warlords who will try to take it. They may not be so kind to you or your beliefs. You do understand that, don’t you? ”
Elle lowered her gaze, nodding reluctantly. “I do,” she said. “I understand that it will always be coveted.”
“Precisely,” Curtis said. “Therefore, it is best that you and I protect it together.”
She looked at him with some surprise. “You and I…?” she stammered. “You… you would protect Brython?”
He nodded. “It is clearly important to you,” he said.
“My lady, this marriage will be for peace. For an alliance. What kind of peace would we have if I disrespected your beliefs and treated your people like slaves? We would have a fight on our hands every single day, and that is not something I wish. I grew up on the marches. I speak your language and I know the history of your country. My father insisted that all of his children did because he felt it was important for us to understand the viewpoints of others. I want to understand your viewpoint, but in return, I also want you to understand mine. Only then can we live in true peace. Onid yw hynny’n gwneud synnwyr? ”
Does that not make sense?
He spoke Welsh flawlessly. It was the first time Elle had heard him do it.
Somehow, that elevated him in her eyes. The fact that he could speak her language meant something.
It was a difficult language to learn, yet he had taken the time to do it.
That told her he meant to communicate with the Welsh on their level, in their language.
Perhaps he’d been forced to learn it, but he could have easily forgotten it or dismissed it.
He didn’t even have to let her know that he could speak it. But he had.
To her, that was a show of respect.
“Ydy, mae’n gwneud hynny,” she said softly.
Yes, it does.
He smiled, and for the first time since their association, Elle smiled in return. He had a very handsome smile of straight teeth, with slightly prominent canines, and the gesture made her heart do strange things. It fluttered in a way she’d never felt before. She could feel her cheeks growing warm.
It was a most unusual reaction.
“Good,” he said. “I will tell you my viewpoint and what I’d like to accomplish here. And our children—if we have any—will be children who understand their Welsh heritage and their English heritage. They will be of two worlds.”
Elle had heard that before. “Your father told me that,” she said. “He said they would be the seeds of peace.”
“They will,” he insisted. “My father was right. But I want to understand where you come from and how you envision your countrymen. I want to know how you see this land ten years from now, or even twenty years from now. Will you tell me?”
Elle nodded because he seemed genuine. “I will,” she said. “But you will not like some of my opinions.”
“I can only know that when you tell me.”
“I will tell you that I do not want the Saesneg in Wales.”
“And I will tell you that it is not your decision to make, nor is it mine.”
They were heading into one of those circular arguments again, and she didn’t want to do that. After last night, he had left her feeling defeated that she couldn’t win an argument or dominate him with her wants.
Weakly, she smiled.
“I think we have a long road ahead of us, my lord,” she said. “You may as well know that I have strong views on things. I will not be afraid to tell you.”
His smile returned. “I would hope that you are not afraid,” he said. “I never had much use for women who are submissive. I come from a family of fiery women.”
“Then it seems you are to marry one, too.”
His eyes glimmered with mirth. “Are you saying that you are agreeable?”
“As you said, we have no choice.”
He grunted at what could have been taken as an insult, his smile fading.
“I suppose I walked into that one,” he muttered, hoping for a response that might have fed his ego a little.
“I was asking if there is anything about me that would make you even mildly agreeable to this marriage. My titles, mayhap? My wealth? My devilishly good looks?”
Elle fought off a grin and averted her gaze. “I think none of those would turn my head,” she said. “You are a Saesneg.”
“And if I were a Welshman?”
He caught her attention with that question, and she thought about it. If Curtis de Lohr had been a Welshman, she might very well find him quite attractive. She wasn’t one to fawn over men in any case, but with him…
She might make an exception.
“If you were a Welshman,” she said, refusing to look at him, “I might find you… adequate.”
He burst into laughter, a great, booming sound that was almost instantly infectious. “Adequate, am I?” he said. “I’ll have you know I am the most handsome out of all of my brothers. I am the beauty of the family.”
“Then it must be an average family.”
He couldn’t stop laughing. He could see that she was smiling and trying very hard not to, which told him that she wasn’t serious.
She was poking holes in his pride. It was at that moment he realized she had his interest, because any woman who wouldn’t feed him flattery was a woman of integrity, indeed.
Without question.
“I’ll pit my average brothers against average Welshmen any day,” he said, wiping his eyes of the hilarious tears. “But if you think me adequate, I will accept that. It is better than being inadequate, or worse.”
She was still biting her lip. “If you did not want to know my opinion, then you should not have asked.”
His eyes were still warm with humor. “I think that I shall always want to know your opinion because I suspect you will never lie to me,” he said. “Even if I do not want to hear the truth.”
Elle looked at him then. “Honesty is all I know,” she said. “I am a very bad liar. But I can be… without tact sometimes.”
“I hardly noticed.”
He was being sarcastic, and her grin broke through. “Since you asked me if I found anything agreeable in you, I shall ask you the same. Surely there cannot be anything agreeable about me that you’ve found.”
A smile played on his lips. “There is, as a matter of fact.”
“What is it?”
He was prevented from answering when Westley appeared in the tent opening. “Curtis,” the young man said, breathless from having run. “Papa wishes to see you now.”
Curtis looked at him. “Why?”
“I do not know,” Westley said. “He only told me to fetch you.”
Curtis nodded with resignation. “Very well,” he said. “Where is Lady Melusine, by the way?”
“I gave her over to Amaro.”
Curtis gave him a long look. “Nay,” he said quietly. “Go and find her. Give her over to Hugo or someone else, but not to Amaro.”
Westley looked stricken. “It was wrong?”
“It was wrong.”
Horrified that he’d done something his brother did not approve of, Westley took off running. Elle, who had heard the conversation, approached Curtis in concern.
“Who is this Amaro?” she asked.
Curtis looked at her. “He is a Spanish knight,” he said. “He is a good warrior, but he is not kind. I do not want him frightening your cousin.”
It was a simple explanation, but one that sent trepidation through Elle. “I see,” she said. “He will not harm her, will he?”
Curtis shook his head. “And risk my father’s wrath?” he said. “Nay, he will not, but he could frighten her. It is best to give her over to someone else to guard.”
Elle reached out and put her hand on his arm. “I will not attack her, I promise,” she said sincerely. “Will you please bring her back to me?”
Her hand, soft and warm, was on his forearm, and Curtis found himself looking at it before he answered her. “If you wish,” he said, lifting his eyes to her earnest face. “But meanwhile, my father has summoned me. Come along, my lady.”
“Why?”
“Because I will not leave you here.”
She didn’t ask him why. She knew. There was no one to guard her, and he didn’t want her to try to escape. With a submissive nod, she allowed him to take her elbow and lead her out into the sunny morning.