Page 27

The duke cleared his throat, and Catrin turned from watching the children to face his glare.

“’Tis beneath your dignity to speak that language, Lady Catrin.”

“Reticence to speak out amongst strangers has held me back in the past, Your Grace, but that is my own weakness, and I am working to overcome it. I see nothing demeaning in communicating with others in the only language they understand.”

The duke snorted. “They are merely children. They do not expect your attention.”

“I may choose to be cordial whether they expect it or not.”

The duke’s glare deepened, his thin mouth disappearing amidst his long white whiskers, but Catrin straightened her shoulders. She would not be intimidated into silence—not when she had only just discovered the joy of personally interacting with the local people.

“We are almost to the sea,” she said, indicating the end of the road and a change of subject. “At this time of morning, there will likely be fishermen sorting their catches on the dock.”

The Duke of Bedford maintained his stony expression, but as they rode to the shoreline and followed the rocky beach to the harbor, Catrin pointed out the stunning view of the Snowdonia Mountains across the straits and the assortment of boats floating at anchor nearby. In the distance, she spotted the outline of the ferry plying its way across the water. If the wind worked in the cog’s favor, it would be here in no time. She needed to make their visit short.

Several fishermen were lined up along the harbor with baskets full of fishes, crabs, and mussels. A pungent smell filled the salty air, and more than once, she caught the duke wrinkling his narrow nose in distaste. Grateful that he obviously had no desire to linger, she kept Seren moving at a steady walk until they reached the end of the harbor and Elfed’s upturned coracle. The old man had seen them coming and was already on his feet.

“Bore da, Arglwyddes Catrin,” he said with a stiff bow.

Catrin reined Seren to a stop. “Bore da, Elfed.” The duke’s irritation was palpable, but she kept her eyes on Elfed and continued speaking in Welsh. “I had hoped I would see you. I ate some mackerel at the banquet. It was delicious.”

Elfed’s face cracked into a toothless grin. “Well now, that’s grand. It must have been one of mine you had.”

“I’m sure it was.”

Elfed chuckled, then he glanced at the duke, and the light in his faded blue eyes dimmed. “I’d best let you be on yer way, my lady.”

Catrin nodded. “I will come again soon.”

At the touch of her heels, Seren started forward. The duke stayed close as they moved away from the harbor and joined the road that led back to the castle. Catrin was more than ready to bring their outing to a close, but with shouts from the dock behind them announcing the arrival of the ferry, and the road ahead of them the same one that Rhys and his brothers would travel from Penmynydd, she was growing more and more anxious that if she did not do something to prevent it, the Duke of Bedford would come face-to-face with the Tudors. If they were dressed in their distinctive surcoats and carrying their bows and swords, it would not take the duke more than a few minutes to ascertain what they were about.

Catrin had thought on Rhys’s decision to join Glyndwr’s men long into the night. He would be fighting against the English king—her king—but his loyalty to family and desire to stand up for the voiceless in Wales were noble motives, and she found that she could not fault him. Nevertheless, the duke would see things very differently, and at a time when every armed Welshman was considered a threat, the duke would be well within his rights to call in the castle guards to apprehend the brothers.

Up ahead, the road forked. The left path led directly to the castle’s south gate and continued up the hill into the wooded area above Beaumaris; the right path led along the coastline to Llanfaes. She glanced left. The road was empty, but on the crest of the hill above the castle, she thought she caught a glimpse of red between the trees.

“We have not been gone from the castle so very long, Your Grace.” She schooled her features into a smile. “If you are amenable, rather than returning right away, we could take the road to Llanfaes.” She pointed to the right. “’Tis a pleasant ride and quite scenic.”

The duke’s raised eyebrows conveyed his surprise, but he gave her an acquiescent nod. “I would be happy to continue our outing, my lady.”

Relief generated a natural smile. She turned back to speak to Beti. “We are riding on to Llanfaes.”

If her maid was equally taken aback, she did not show it. “Very good, my lady.”

When Catrin increased Seren’s gait to a trot, the duke and Beti kept pace, and it wasn’t long before they were over the first rise and out of sight of the harbor. The road narrowed with bramble, hawthorn, and gorse bushes blending to form tangled hedgerows. Leaves were beginning to change, and the vivid greens she and Beti had enjoyed on the same ride only a couple weeks before were now sprinkled with gold and brown. Seagulls’ cries faded, replaced by the cheery trills of red-breasted robins. Catrin slowed Seren to a walk, hoping that the serenity of their surroundings might calm her conflicted heart.

“I recently discovered that Llanfaes was once a thriving community,” she said. “All that remains now, however, is the friary.”

The duke gave a polite nod. “That would explain the poor condition of the road, I suppose.”

Catrin held back a sigh. Did criticism come so easily it simply rolled off his tongue with no thought?

“Do you come this way often?” he asked.

“My mother is buried in the graveyard at the friary. I like to visit when the weather allows.”

“I was sorry to hear of her passing.”

She glanced at him. He sounded genuinely regretful. “It has been a year since her death, but I miss her still.”