Chapter Nine #3
Mattie nodded. “I do,” she replied in kind. “I have learned several languages, but Gaelic will be the most helpful in my new role. I hope that I may be of some service to my husband in his duties.”
“Ye will,” Lady Warenton replied before Rhoswyn could, still speaking her native tongue. “I’m very happy that ye know our tongue. Ye’ll do well, lass.”
Mattie already liked Lady Warenton. She was kind, whereas Rhoswyn just didn’t seem to warm up enough. It wasn’t exactly disapproval, but it wasn’t exactly acceptance, either. It was puzzling. Mattie was about to reply to Lady Warenton when Rhoswyn suddenly spoke up.
“God’s Bones,” she said, switching back to the common tongue. “What is my son wearing?”
The women looked over to see Gar in conversation with his grandfather and father. He was wearing his mail and protection for the most part, and it covered most of his clothing, so no one was sure what Rhoswyn meant when the woman clarified.
“His breeches,” she said. “What are those?”
“I made them,” Mattie said. “My dog has taken a disliking to Gar and tore the breeches he was wearing, so I quickly made those simply so he’d have something to wear. Now he refuses to take them off. Nothing I can say will convince him.”
While Lady Warenton grinned, Rhoswyn broke away from the women and marched up to her son.
“Those breeches,” she said. “Ye need tae remove them. Ye have better breeches tae wear.”
His conversation with his grandfather interrupted, Gar looked at his mother. “Why?” he said suspiciously. “Did Matilda tell you to order me to remove them?”
Rhoswyn shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “But they’re shameful. Terrible. Unbefitting a de Wolfe son. Remove them or I’ll remove them myself.”
Gar wasn’t sure why his mother was being so aggressive about a pair of breeches.
“I will not, nor will you,” he said steadily.
“My wife made them for me. She did it out of the kindness of her heart and I’ll not remove them, not even for you.
I am sorry you feel that they are shameful, but they are the most important thing I own. ”
Rhoswyn wasn’t used to be refused by her children. She stared at him a moment as if she could hardly believe he’d denied her, but he had and he was clear why. Unable to do more than she’d already done, she marched off, leaving Gar bewildered. After a moment, he turned to his father.
“Why did she do that?” he asked.
Troy was watching his wife disappear down the stairs. “I am not certain,” he said. “They are filthy, Gar.”
“I’m not removing them.”
Troy waved him off, as if he already knew that and it hadn’t been a command. It was simply an observation. As Troy headed off after his wife to determine the source of her brusque manner, William simply smiled at his grandson.
“This is a difficult day for a mother, I suspect,” he said. “Your grandmother felt the same way when your father and uncles were married. It is difficult to become the second-most-important woman in your son’s life rather than the first.”
Gar frowned. “But she was as much in support of this marriage as anyone.”
William chuckled softly. “Until she actually met your wife,” he said quietly. “That is when it became real.”
Gar looked over at Mattie, who was in conversation with his grandmother and Aunt Avrielle.
Caria, his youngest aunt, the adopted daughter of William and Jordan, had sauntered over and was being quite friendly to Mattie.
Caria was barely a young woman herself and quite enamored with other young women, especially pretty ones like Mattie.
She loved to study their clothing and hair, things she could emulate.
“I hope Mama was not rude to her,” he said, sounding worried. “Mayhap I should go to her.”
William shook his head. “Leave her with the women,” he said. “That is where she needs to be right now. But you—your uncles and I must speak with you.”
Gar looked at him. “Why?”
“We’ve heard some… things.”
“What things?”
William put his hand on Gar’s shoulder. “Come,” he said. “Let us speak. You must be weary from your travels, so let us become comfortable.”
With a lingering glance at Mattie, Gar did as he was told.
Following his grandfather over to the nearest table, he sat down amongst his family members and others who had joined the group, men who were more than happy to pour him cups of wine and cheer his marriage.
Of all the things he thought he would feel when he returned home from Hensingham, a sense of pleasure wasn’t among them.
Even happiness. Was he happy? Not strangely, he was.
He’d been happy since the day he married Mattie.
Joy the likes of which he’d never felt in his life. It was unrecognizable in his world.
But welcome.
Very welcome.
Gar was glad to be home…
With her.
*
“Well? What’s wrong?”
The question came from Troy. He’d found his wife out in the bailey, standing next to the fortified carriage that bore the de Reyne colors of blue and black. She was just standing there as the business of the bailey went on around her, as if nothing else in the world existed at the moment.
She was lost in thought.
But Rhoswyn’s head came up when she heard Troy’s question. She’d suspected he might come after her, and she really hadn’t wanted him to, but her thoughts of finding a quiet place to cool her jumbled emotions faded away when she saw the carriage that had brought Gar’s wife.
Now, she could think of nothing else.
“Why should anything be wrong?” she replied after a moment. “Everything is just as ye want it.”
Troy pursed his lips wryly as he came up behind her. “You seem to have wanted it yourself until now,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”
Rhoswyn knew it wouldn’t do any good to avoid him. Troy was sharp. They’d been together for so long that she didn’t even know where she ended and he began. It was a symbiotic relationship that few couples had.
After a moment, she shook her head.
“She’s perfect,” she said quietly. “Perfect and pretty.”
“She is,” Troy said. “And Gar is quite obsessed with her, so if you do not like the girl, keep it to yourself.”
Rhoswyn sighed heavily, leaning against the carriage. “I dunna know her enough tae like her or dislike her,” she said. “All I can see is a pretty, perfect English lass for my son.”
Troy leaned against the carriage also, standing just a few inches from her and watching her lowered head. His Rhoswyn, a warrior in her own right, Scottish to the bone. He suspected what the problem was.
“I know you wanted a clan chief’s daughter for him,” he said softly. “But Gar is English. He serves the English. Papa and I discussed this at length and it is better that he marry an Englishwoman who can bring an alliance with her. It will be better for him in the end.”
“Why?” Rhoswyn said, her head coming up to look at him. “I have never understood why ye thought an English wife would be better. He could have done so much good for the Lowlanders, Troy. For my people, for my father’s allies. He could have made a difference.”
“Did Red Keith put you onto this line of thinking?”
Rhoswyn shook her head. “Of course not,” she said. “My father was glad Gar was marrying, no matter who it was. He said that a lad that beauteous needed tae find a wife in a hurry before he realized how women reacted to him and became a rake.”
Troy snorted. “That sounds like something your father would say.”
“I just wanted Gar tae have a wife who would value him.”
Troy frowned. “And what makes you think Mattie will not?”
Rhoswyn shrugged. “Because she’s pretty and perfect,” she said, repeating what she’d said before. “Lasses like that only care about themselves. They will expect their husbands tae fall at their feet. Gar doesna need a wife like that.”
Troy cupped her face with a big hand. “I think you are worrying needlessly,” he said. “I think you must come to know Mattie yourself before you can make any judgment about her. Don’t you?”
Rhoswyn did, but she was prejudiced. She really did want Gar to have a solid Scots wife, not a polished English bride. Women like that had never accepted Rhoswyn easily and she was just a little biased. But the marriage had commenced and there was no going back.
No matter how torn she was.
“I suppose,” she said.
Troy kissed her before dropping his hand from her face. “Come inside with me,” he said. “I think that my mother is taking Mattie around to show her the castle, but it would be nice if you went along, also. I’m sure the girl thinks that you do not like her, considering the way you left things.”
“Does Gar think that?”
“Probably.”
Rhoswyn winced. “Well, I canna have that,” she said. “I’ll go find the women.”
Troy nodded, giving her an encouraging smile. “Everything will be well, I promise,” he said. “Gar truly likes his new wife. She makes him happy. Give her a chance to show you that, Rhos. That’s the best thing you can hope for with your son—that the marriage makes him happy.”
Rhoswyn simply nodded as Troy winked at her and headed back toward the keep. She watched him go, thinking on his words and on the pretty lass her son had married.
Give her a chance to show you.
Rhoswyn supposed that was only fair. She would give the English lass the chance that other Englishwomen had never given her. Even if she’d had a rocky experience with some English-born women, that didn’t mean she would have one with Mattie. And, as Troy had said, Gar’s happiness meant everything.
That was all that mattered.
With a sigh, Rhoswyn headed off to find the women and her new daughter-in-law.
She had some amends to make.