Serpent (29 page)

She looked at him then, a reproachful sort of expression. “I have been of marriageable age for four years,” she said. “You had four years to declare your intentions and you never did.”

“Because I knew you would have rejected me,” he said frankly. “Your mindset was not one of marriage or children and I knew that. I was waiting until you grew up a little but, unfortunately, your father had other plans.”

Penelope wasn’t sure what to say to that. Kevin was still holding her hand, refusing to let it go, so she squeezed his fingers. “Bhrodi is a good man,” she whispered confidently. “He will take great care of me. You do not have to worry.”

Kevin
didn’t say anything to that. Part of him didn’t want to hear that de Shera was a good man; he didn’t like Penelope speaking fondly of another man. However, his mind was eased to know she was in good hands. It was a strange paradox.

“Please tell me just this once and I shall never ask again,” he whispered. “Could you… would you have accepted my suit?”

Penelope looked down at the man she had always been very fond of. She’d known for years he had been in love with her but he had been correct when he said her mindset hadn’t been one of marriage and children. She had always taken it for granted that Kevin would always love her and when, or if, she ever decided to marry, he would have been the one. It had been terrible of her to put the man through such grief. After a moment, she nodded.

“Aye,” she murmured.

“Could you have loved me?”

She wasn’t even sure how to answer that. She wanted to ease him, feeling terribly sorry for him. “Aye,” she whispered, barely audible. “I am sure I could have.”

Kevin’s expression changed at that moment; he grasped her so tightly that he was hurting her hand.

“Then come away with me,” he begged softly. “Let us leave Wales and go somewhere together. France, mayhap. They are always looking for skilled knights to fight their wars. We could live as man and wife, and I would love you and only you until the end of my days
. Please, Penny; go with me.”

Shocked at his suggestion, Penelope tried to be tactful in her reply. “I cannot and you know it,” she said. “I am married to Bhrodi, a wedding arranged by my father. How would it reflect on my father if I were to run away with you? Would you bring such shame down upon our families?”

Kevin stared at her as her words sank in. It was the rejection he always knew she would give him and he felt ashamed. He wasn’t a weak man by nature but she made him feel weak; so very weak. He was also ill and feeling desperate, a bad combination when it came to his self-control. Closing his eyes against her disapproving face, he looked away.

“Forgive me,” he muttered. “I should not have… please forgive me. It will not happen again.”

Penelope felt so very sorry for him. She squeezed his hand. “I am sorry, Kevin,” she whispered, “so truly sorry. I wish things could have been different for your sake, but my future is already set and I must face it. I pray you find peace in yours.”

Leaning over him, she kissed
him on the forehead and he reached up his good hand, touching her face in a manner he’d always wanted to touch her. But he just as quickly pulled away and his hand fell to his side. His eyes remained closed and Penelope’s gaze lingered on him sadly. Turning for the door, she came to an immediately halt by the sight in the doorway.

Bhrodi was standing there and, from the expression on his face, she was certain he had heard every word between her and
Kevin.

⌘

The messengers had gone out to all of the chieftains under Bhrodi’s command and the conference to discuss his marriage was set for morning of the next day. Five days after her marriage to the great Welsh warlord and hereditary King of Anglesey, Penelope’s life at Rhydilian was starting to setting down and settle in, including the anticipation of facing those who were opposed to the marriage.

Even with the opposition, however, a
balance was forming between her and her husband, and it was clear that a strong bond was beginning to be established. It was something that seemed to be forming fairly quickly, as it was coming naturally. There was a pull there, an attraction, that could not be denied, and it was gaining in intensity by the hour. Once Penelope began to warm to him again after the attack on her family, everything became easier.

The night of
Kevin’s confession, Bhrodi hadn’t said a word about it. He’d merely escorted Penelope to their chamber, speaking on his meeting with Bron but little else. Penelope thought perhaps to bring up the subject and discuss it, not to hide it from him, but he glanced over it when she tried to bring it up. After two tries, she gave up. Evidently, he didn’t want to discuss it so she let the subject go. They had much more serious things to worry about other than a wounded knight who was in love with Penelope. It had been clear that she hadn’t returned that love.

The night before the big conference, Bhrodi seemed to be in a particularly good mood
. The serving women, the ones who had disturbed him so at the onset, had indeed proved to be an asset at Rhydilian and the place seemed to be running better than it ever had. The floors were swept, Tacey was tended, fires were kept burning and the kitchens were in order, so much so that Penelope didn’t have to do much of anything. It was evident that her mother had conferred with the serving women and told them that her daughter wasn’t much of a chatelaine, which didn’t bother Penelope because it was the truth. The women were a small army of attendants and Penelope hadn’t even learned their names yet.

But it was something she intended to remedy. S
he was coming to be the least bit bored since she didn’t have anything else to occupy her time, so she thought that perhaps she should learn something of running a household. Therefore, on the evening before the great meeting of the chieftains, she wandered down into the kitchens where three of the women were cooking. Bread was in the oven, pots were boiling over the fire, and in the middle of the giant butcher’s table in the kitchen was a fully roasted pig. The animal had cooked in the yard all afternoon and had just been brought inside to dismember. It smelled delicious.

Penelope was mostly observing
. The three women in the kitchens were all widowed, with children long grown, and were cousins. They had a good camaraderie going and Penelope liked that. It reminded her of her own family and her myriad of female cousins. Dilys, Awen, and Braithe were very friendly and answered all of Penelope’s questions, even about the simplest of things. They showed her the ovens, told her what was cooking in the pots, and even showed her how to butcher the cooked pig. Penelope rather liked the look of the big butcher’s axe and asked if she could give it a try. They handed it over to her and, with much glee, she ended up hacking apart the entire pig. It was the first time she had held a blade in her hand in almost a week so the thrill of it was almost too much to bear. The roast pig didn’t stand a chance.

When the supper hour rolled around, Bhrodi began looking for his wife because she was nowhere to be found. She wasn’t in their chamber, or in the stables, or even with the recovering English knights. Bhrodi had politely invited them to sup with him in the great hall if they were able to move, but had left before either one of them could give an answer because he was more concerned with finding Penelope
. He eventually did, in the kitchens in the lower level of Rhydilian, and was just in time to see his wife hack the head from the roasted pig in one clean stroke. As a knight, Bhrodi recognized a kill stroke when he saw it, and Penelope had delivered it with a good deal of skill.

“The poor and troubled pig,” he said as he came off the narrow staircase that led into the kitchens. “What did he ever do to you that you should sever his head so cleanly?”

Startled at his abrupt appearance, Penelope tried not to look too guilty as she thrust the butcher’s axe at Awen. She wanted to get it out of her hands quickly, knowing that Bhrodi wasn’t too keen on her continuing her knightly pursuits. She smiled weakly at him as she made her way in his direction.

“I….,” she stammered, looking at the women around her and silently begging forgiveness for the lie she was about to tell. “I came down to the kitchens to supervise the meal and… well, as you know, it is a skill I need to learn and… and… they were having difficulty butchering the pig so I offered to… well, I was helping.”

She was so nervous that Bhrodi laughed softly and touched her gently on the cheek. “You did a very good job,” he said. “Shall we go to the hall and prepare for the meal? I invited your brother and the other English knight to join us if they are able. Mayhap they will.”

Penelope was confused at his lack of a scolding.
She was fairly certain he didn’t believe her about helping but, to his credit, he didn’t dispute her. Just as he hadn’t when he had overheard Kevin begging her to run away with him. Either Bhrodi didn’t like confrontation, he didn’t care, or he simply chose his battles wisely. Penelope didn’t know him well enough to know which it truly was but she was coming to suspect it was the latter.

All things considered, he had been extremely gracious in two situations where he would have had every right to become cross with her
. In fact, he’d never become cross with her at all, not once. That told Penelope that Bhrodi had an exceptionally accepting nature, which was surprising for a warlord with such a terrible reputation. Or perhaps he was only accepting when it came to her. She wondered.

The feasting hall was littered with fresh rushes and a collection of dogs hovered beneath the table, knowing the meal time was approaching.
They could smell the food on the floor below. As Bhrodi and Penelope emerged from the narrow stairs that led up from the kitchens, they were just in time to see the old uncle burst from his wardrobe and begin his furious dance about the room.

Oh, but it was a vicious battle t
his night. The old man was working feverishly against an unseen enemy, cutting and slashing, fighting his ghostly foe. Bhrodi wasn’t paying much attention to him, as usual, but Penelope was. She found it rather fascinating that the man had been doing the same thing, like clockwork, for over thirty years. She watched him as he remained in the shadows, in the darkness, barely emerging into the light. In fact, it seemed as if whenever he neared the light, he deliberately veered away.

This night, however, he seemed to be heading towards the darkened foyer of the keep’s entry. It was very dark in the entry and the old man danced and shrieked his way towards that small room
. At one point, he fell to his knees and grabbed his gut as if he had just been terribly gored. Moaning and groaning, he struggled to his feet just about the time Thomas emerged from the upper floors. The young knight came off the stairs into the darkened hall and came up behind the old man. When the old man, acting out a grievous injury, looked up to see the knight, he screamed like a woman.

Startled, Thomas jumped back, away from the old man who suddenly produced a dirk and slashed at him
. Bhrodi was up, running in their direction as Thomas, who truly had no idea who, or what, the old man was, lashed out a big fist and knocked the dirk out of the old man’s hand. The elderly man fell to the ground, screaming, as he crawled back towards his wardrobe. Bhrodi put out a hand to Thomas to prevent him from pursuing, putting himself between the English knight and his insane old uncle.

“Hold fast,” he told the young knight, watching the old man crawl away. “He cannot help what he has done. He is my grandfather’s brother and quite mad.”

Thomas was in battle mode, his brow furrowed as he watched the skinny old man drag himself into the wardrobe and close the door. Incredulous, he looked at Bhrodi.

“What is he doing?” he demanded. “He pulled a dirk on me!”

Bhrodi nodded patiently, holding out a hand to indicate the feasting table where Penelope was sitting.

“I know,” he said. “Please come in and sit. I will explain everything to you.”

Keeping a wary eye on the wardrobe, Thomas came into the hall and sat next to his sister, who looked anxiously upon him.

“Are you unharmed?” she asked, concerned. “He did not catch you with the dirk, did he?”

Thomas shook his head; his left arm was still heavily wrapped and he rubbed his right hand over the bindings.