Emllyn giggled. “You donotwant a man with bastards,” she said. “Who else?”
Elyse was carefully shading something. “There are a couple of lesser knights,” she said. “My father has an entire stable of knights, but only a few I would even look at more than once. I suppose the reality is that Christopher is the only true marital candidate for me.”
Emllyn looked up at her. “And this displeases you?”
Elyse shrugged. “It would be nice to have more of a selection,” she said. As they giggled, her focus on Emllyn grew more intense. “And what of you? Do you have any prospects for marriage?”
Emllyn was careful in her answer. “Nay,” she said softly. “I have told you of the man I thought to marry, but he was killed.”
Elyse had heard the story of Sir Trevor, Emllyn’s one and true love, and how the man had been killed in the battle at Black Castle those weeks ago. She had tried to get more of the story out of her but Emllyn didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Although Elyse was trying to be tactful when discussing Emllyn’s recently lost love, it frustrated her to no end that the woman wouldn’t elaborate. She was very curious.
“I am sorry for you, of course,” Elyse said quietly. “But shouldn’t you think of your future, or do you plan to pine away for a dead man? You are young and beautiful, but you will not be that way forever. You must marry while you are still attractive.”
It was a harsh way of putting it but she wasn’t far wrong. Still, Emllyn shook her head. “Mayhap,” she said. “But I am not thinking of marriage now.”
“But you will someday?”
“Of course I will.”
Elyse sighed dreamily, thinking on Emllyn’s future lover. “Will you at least invite me to your wedding when you do marry? I should like to see the husband you finally choose.”
Emllyn had a mental picture of Elyse at her wedding to Devlin and it almost made her laugh. “If you will come, of course I will invite you.”
Elyse was thrilled. She went back to her drawing. “My father would chastise me if he heard me say this,” she said, “but I have seen many handsome Irishmen since I have been in Ireland. I swear that the country is overrun with handsome men. It is unfortunate that I cannot marry an Irishman, for I would dearly love to have a handsome Irish husband.”
Emllyn grinned at her. “Connaught is not handsome or Irish enough?”
Elyse waved her off. “He is very handsome,” she said. “But he is so…English.To hear a man say my name in an Irish accent… ’tis heavenly!”
Emllyn giggled at the woman’s silly romantic notions. They were sweet. As she focused on her work again and took another stitch, she heard Elyse’s soft voice upon the air.
“John is a very handsome man,” she ventured. “He told my father that his wife and daughter died. Do… do you know much about him?”
Emllyn’s good humor fled and jealousy filled her veins. She could tell just by the woman’s tone that she was interested in Devlin and it was an effort not to fly over the table and wrap her hands around Elyse’s neck. But she remained calm and cool, reminding herself that Elyse had no true knowledge of who Devlin was or of his relationship to Emllyn. Moreover, she couldn’t fault the woman for her excellent taste; he most definitelywasa big, handsome man.
“He is a farmer,” she said, avoiding the question. “Your father would never allow you to marry an Irish farmer.”
Elyse sighed. “I know,” she said. “But he is still devilishly handsome. What do you know of him?”
It was the same question; Emllyn realized that the woman wasn’t going to let it go. She had insatiable curiosity, more than likely because she really hadn’t had any female companionship to talk to before Emllyn had come along. It was as if she was making up for all of those lonely days with no one to pass the time with.
“Not too terribly much,” Emllyn replied, focused on her needlework. “He was very kind to me and helped me a great deal.”
“He cares for you.”
Emllyn shrugged. “It is only normal concern, I am sure.”
Elyse had stopped drawing; she was gazing intently at Emllyn. “To dream of a man like that with his arms around me, in my bed,” she murmured. “It makes me warm all over.”
Emllyn’s head shot up, looking at Elyse with a mixture of curiosity and shock. “God’s Blood, Elyse,” she said; she had long since stopped addressing her formally as “lady” since they had become fast friends. “What a deviant mind you have.”
Elyse cocked an eyebrow at her before breaking down into giggles. “I have a healthy curiosity for men in general,” she admitted. “Christopher may be handsome but he is a boring lover. I’ve had better.”
Emllyn nearly choked. “Betterlovers?” she repeated. “Surely you do not mean…?”
Elyse nodded swiftly, cutting her off as she returned to her drawing. “The young, strong ones are usually more exciting in bed, but often with them it is over too soon,” she said. “Older men can control themselves better but they are usually so unimaginative.”
Emllyn’s eyes widened. “Elyse!” she gasped. “You are shameless!”
