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“The change must have been hard for her,” Leif said.

His mother nodded. “At first, surely. But by the time I knew her, she had become accustomed to her life here. She spoke Norse unless she was upset, and then she reverted to her mother tongue.”

Leif chuckled. “That must have occurred more than once for you to remember it.”

“Her hair was white when I knew her, but by all accounts, when she was young, she had beautiful red hair—and a temper to go with it.” His mother’s eyes twinkled. “I believe it fair to say that my brothers heard significantly more Gaelic words than did I.”

“I wish I had known her.”

“As do I.” His mother smiled. “I believe she would have liked you very much.”

He raised his eyebrows. “More than she favored my headstrong uncles?”

She laughed. “Undoubtedly. Unlike you, neither of them had so much as a hint of red in their beards.”

Chapter 8

It seemed to Rhiannon that grief must have muddled her senses. Else why would it appear that Cadwgan wished nothing more than to have Hywel gone? They had sat at the table to eat Nest’s bread and broth together but had yet to agree upon anything.

“It would have behooved you to warn those living along the coast first rather than making directly for the monasteries the Vikings had long since plundered and abandoned,” Cadwgan said.

“The barbarians are not known for attacking family dwellings,” Hywel responded. “And if we had not visited Llanrhys Abbey, we would not have known the direction the Norsemen were taking.”

“What difference would their direction make if they were gone when you arrived?”

Hywel’s irritation was mounting. “A frustration you experienced at Bryn Eithin, it would seem.”

“I was not sent out to rid our land of the marauders.”

Rhiannon broke into the exchange. “It was the approach of Cadwgan and his men on the coast road that sent the Vikings back to sea. I am grateful for his arrival and for all that he has done since.”

Cadwgan’s gaze remained fixed upon Hywel, who acknowledged Rhiannon’s point with a slight inclination of his head. “May I be permitted to speak for my father in expressing thanks for your assistance.”

“It has been an honor to be of service. Would that I had been given the opportunity to fight with Iorwerth ap Gwion.”

“You did not speak with Rhiannon’s father before he passed, then?” Hywel asked.

“I did not.”

The change in Hywel’s expression was so small as to make it almost indiscernible, but when he turned to Rhiannon, he spoke with greater confidence. “If you would have a servant pack your trunks, Rhiannon, my men and I will escort you to Ynys Môn. Until other arrangements are made, you shall stay at the royal llys.”

Cadwgan’s expression darkened. “I may not have spoken to Rhiannon’s father yesterday,” he said, “but it does not signify that we had not come to an understanding. Iorwerth ap Gwion wished me to take his daughter to wife, and no matter Rhiannon’s unexpected change in circumstances, I am prepared to act upon her father’s request. She shall travel with me to Dyffryn Clwyd, and we shall be married forthwith.”

Married forthwith. Rhiannon blinked. Had she heard Cadwgan aright? She no longer had a dowry to offer the nobleman, yet he wished to make her his bride. It was more than she could have hoped for, and she waited for some semblance of happiness—or at the very least, relief—to lift her spirits. But nothing came. Her heart was an empty cavern void of all emotions.

“You would deny Rhiannon a time of mourning, then?” Hywel appeared equally unmoved by Cadwgan’s gesture. “Surely you must be made of stone to ignore the pain she is currently experiencing.”

“On the contrary,” Cadwgan said, his eyes flashing angrily. “I know better than you what it is to lose a father too soon.”

“Then it would seem fitting that you would allow her the courtesy of being present at her father’s burial before you make her your wife.”

“If courtesy is something you wish to discuss, you might give some consideration to Rhiannon’s immediate situation,” Cadwgan responded. “With the death of her father, she now finds herself without home or income. I am in a position to alleviate her concern on both counts.”

“That is no concern at all,” Hywel said. “Rhiannon is a well-loved member of my mother’s family and a frequent visitor at the royal llys. For the time being, she belongs there.”

Rhiannon stared at Hywel. Did he truly believe that? No matter the time she’d spent at Owain Gwynedd’s llys in her youth, Bryn Eithin was the only place she’d ever called home, the only place to which she justly belonged.

Cadwgan rose and fixed Hywel with an icy glare. “No matter that you ride at the head of four dozen soldiers, you have no authority in this instance.”