The Welshman's Way by Margaret Moore

Author:Margaret Moore [Moore, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1995-02-15T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“Look! There’s a badger!” Madeline cried softly, pointing at the chubby creature ambling across the path. The day was warm and sunny, the sky free of clouds, the air fresh with the scent of blossoms and growing things.

Dafydd’s only response was a frown. She seemed curiously excited by the sight, just as she had seemed rather jovial lately, no doubt because she felt she was in command of the situation.

Let her think what she liked, he told himself. It made no difference to him. At least she had purchased a less revealing gown, just as he had wasted no time purchasing a flint. There would be no more nights beside her, he had vowed when he had awakened two days ago to find her snuggled contentedly in his arms. Since then, he had been careful to stay as far from her as he could.

Unfortunately, that was not proving very easy. Although the new garment she wore was not nearly so tight as the other, he was well aware of her shapely, exciting body beneath it. He also caught himself simply enjoying watching her: her smile, her eyes, her hair, her gestures.

God’s blood, he should have gone with that serving wench at the alehouse. He didn’t doubt she would have been only too willing, and then perhaps he would find it easier to ignore Madeline.

“I need to rest,” Madeline said a few moments later, not waiting for an answer as she sat down under a large and ancient oak tree.

Dafydd frowned and set down their pack. To speak the truth, the shade was cool and so welcome, but he would not admit that he could use the rest, too. Nor would he tell her that his shoulder ached a little from too many nights sleeping on the cold, hard ground. “We have not come very far this morning,” he said, furtively examining her as he sat beside her. “You told me you could make the journey.”

“I can,” she replied. “I am just tired and need a brief rest.”

She did look pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Why, she looked not just tired, but sick, which worried him. Despite her assurances, this trek was too much for a highborn woman surely used to walking no farther than from the sleeping quarters of the convent to its chapel. He should take better care to see that she rested. They still had several miles to go.

“Would you care for some water?” he asked not unkindly.

She shook her head, her hand on her stomach.

Which made him think of something else. Perhaps the night they had made love, they had made something else, too. “Do you feel...” He paused, not certain of the Norman word for nauseous.

“It is nothing serious,” she assured him with a weak smile. “It is my women’s time.”

So, not with child. He told himself that naturally he was pleased by this.

“Quiet!” she whispered suddenly. “Listen!”

From the distance came the far-off muffled jingle of a harness, a low baying of hounds, the hoofbeats of horses and the sound of men’s voices.

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