‘Beg your pardon, sir!’ the child said quickly. ‘We meant no harm.’
Tudor reassured him, making a show of patting himself down. ‘Fortunately, I have survived the encounter without injury.’
Rhiannon took the hand of the smaller boy and had him step forward. ‘Come, children, where are your manners? Say good evening to Sir John properly.’ Tudor’s public name still felt unwieldy to her. He had revealed it was taken to make himself sound less Welsh, as, like it or not, this enabled him to progress in his career as a knight more effectively. In private, to his friends, he was always and ever Tudor.
The two straightened themselves with great care and formality before executing low and somewhat wobbly bows. This they followed with faltering greetings spoken all at once so that nothing made much sense.
‘This,’ said Rhiannon, placing a hand on the red haired boy’s head, ‘is Ieuan ap Griffiths. His father tends the gardens for me, as his father did before him. Ieuan’s family have been with mine for many years.’
‘I am pleased to meet you Ieaun ap Griffiths,’ said Tudor, inclining his head respectfully.
‘And this,’ she went on, fighting the sudden surge of emotion she was experiencing, pushing the dark eyed, good looking boy forward a step, ’… this is the grandson of my eldest ladies maid, Mair. He has a natural gift with the horses and spends all his time in the stables when he should be at his school work.’ She went on, ‘His name is Tudor.’
Tudor smiled. ‘My namesake! And a fellow horseman to boot. Tell me, young sir, will you be a knight one day?’
‘Oh, yes, sir! That is my dearest wish.’
Tudor nodded and then adopted a deadly serious expression. ‘Then tend to your studies, young man. A knight must use his head as well as his sword arm. And a horse listens better if you speak softly. Remember that.’
‘I will, sir!’ said the child, already quite star struck.
A woman could be heard calling from the house.
‘Mair wants you, boys,’ Rhiannon told them. ‘Do not keep her waiting.’
She and Tudor watched the children scamper back towards the kitchens. Her heart ached at the thought that, had he but known it, he had just stood toe to toe with his own great-great-great grandson.
They stepped out of the arbour and walked across the lawns and through the small wattle gate into the orchard. The plump lambs skittered away from them. The apple trees were heavy with fruit, their laden boughs low. She led him to a shady patch beneath one of the oldest trees and together they sat down. The sun was dipping behind the distant mountains, so that the sky, revealed through the leafy branches as she looked up,was blushing pink. Tudor leaned close, planting the lightest of kisses on her cheek.
‘You are the woman of my dreams,’ he murmured.
‘And you are the answer to my prayers,’ she replied.
He touched her hair, looking at her intensely, as if seeing her differently somehow.
‘I speak in truth,’ he explained. ‘There have been times I am certain I have seen your face in visions. When I am in your presence it is as if I…. am returning home.’
She kissed him then. Softly at first, and then deeper, with more passion. When she broke away it was to recline upon the soft, sun-warmed grass. She reached up to him and pulled him to her, continuing the urgent kiss that was filled with such longing he was startled by it. Gently pulling back he studied her face, questioning.
‘My love,’ she whispered. ‘My love.’ She undid the lace tie at the front of her gown. He watched her for a moment.
‘My Lady, do not tempt me…’
‘I would feed that temptation. It is my greatest wish…’
He shook his head. ‘Before our marriage? I would not so dishonour you. Our wedding day is soon.’
‘There can be no dishonour between us. We are betrothed. Our love, our match, is not in dispute.’
‘But…’ He took hold of her hand and kissed it before glancing at the direction of the house. ‘Here…?’
‘The children are called away to their chores. All others are occupied at this time with the serious business of supper. I promise you, we will not be disturbed.’ She slipped one hand around his neck, keeping his face close to hers, feeling his breath on her cheek. Her other hand she slipped beneath his shirt to feel his warm skin under her fingers and the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm.
‘Rhiannon, do not torture me so… for your sake I am content to wait.’
She laughed loudly at this and then shook her head, pulling him down to her as she said, ‘Not I! I have waited quite long enough!’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
