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“He may have been when he was very young,” Gwenllian said, “but a shadow seemed to come over him after his father was killed. It took time for him to rise above that tragedy.” The haunted look had returned to her eyes. “I daresay such things take their toll on all of us.”

“I am sure of it.” Rhiannon needed no reminder. Her recent encounter with Leif had resurrected difficult memories and emotions aplenty.

As had happened all too often since their encounter on the beach, her thoughts strayed to the Viking. Nothing could erase the part he had played in her father’s death, but for almost two days now, her heart had whispered that perhaps he was not the monster she’d believed him to be. Irritated that he had muddled her feelings so fully, she turned her attention to the beauty of the landscape around her, searching for the peace that usually came from being beside the sea.

“He’s coming!”

At Gwenllian’s whispered warning, Rhiannon swung her head back around, half expecting to see Leif approaching. Instead, she saw that Cadwgan had moved from his position beside the king, and now that she and Gwenllian were nearing the spot where he’d been waiting, he was angling his mount toward them.

“I will ride with my mother for a time,” Gwenllian said, and before Rhiannon could stop her, she urged her horse forward, leaving an empty space beside Rhiannon for Cadwgan to fill.

“Good day, Rhiannon.” Cadwgan matched his horse’s stride to hers.

“Good day.” She bit her lip, wondering what to say next. There had been so much to do in preparation for this journey, she had not spoken to him since her interview with Owain Gwynedd.

“The king told me that he has spoken to you of my desire to make you my wife.”

“He did.” Heaven help her. Could she not generate more than two words at a time?

He raised one dark eyebrow. “I hope the news pleased you.”

“In truth, my lord, I was overwhelmed. You do me a great honor.”

“Surely, it cannot have come as a complete surprise. I made mention of marriage two years ago,” he said.

She nodded. “I remember. But with no promise made between us, I had not thought it my right to hold you to your earlier offer.”

“I confess, since then, my responsibilities in Dyffryn Clwyd have precluded me from spending as much time with you as I would have wished, but that will matter little once we are married.”

Rhiannon nodded, swallowing against the lump in her throat. How far was Dyffryn Clwyd from the sea? Or from anyone she knew and loved? “Tell . . .” She swallowed again. “Tell me about Dyffryn Clwyd.”

She had expected his expression to soften or his eyes to warm at the opportunity to speak of his ancestral home, but neither occurred. He kept his face forward, his tone even. “My castle stands on a rise overlooking a large vale. The land is good, with pastures that are well suited for raising sheep, and the hamlets boast excellent markets.”

Rhiannon waited. The silence between them lengthened. Did he truly believe her interests lay in sheep and markets? “How long has your family lived in the area?”

This time, she saw a flicker of emotion in the tensing of his jaw. “My father and uncles ruled the district of Dyffryn Clwyd after my grandfather. Upon their deaths, the district was annexed by Gwynedd. I cannot imagine living anywhere else, even though the power my family once knew in the region is gone.”

All hope of eliciting a smile from Cadwgan vanished, and Rhiannon resigned herself to riding in awkward silence.

But the nobleman surprised her with a question of his own. “Do you miss Bryn Eithin?”

“I miss the people most,” she said. “My father and the servants I’d known since childhood. I do not know what became of the servants after the house was entailed to another.” She hid her sadness over the loss of those friendships with a shrug. “My homesickness for the house itself was lessened because Owain Gwynedd’s llys is located beside the very same sea.”

He looked at her curiously. “You delight in being near the water?”

“Yes.” She was not yet prepared to tell him of the depth of the peace and joy she drew from the ocean’s grandeur. Those feelings were too personal for their fledgling relationship. “What is it that you delight in?”

He did not answer immediately. She waited. Was there nothing?

His jaw tensed again. “Righting wrongs,” he said. “I delight in righting wrongs.”

Instantly, her thoughts went to Cadwgan’s quest to challenge Leif after their interaction at the market, and his seemingly noble response inexplicably lost a portion of its merit.

“I daresay there are many wrongs to be found,” she said.

“Indeed. I shall likely never see an end to them in my lifetime.”

She should probably ask about some of his former ventures. But she could not bring herself to dwell on the losses others had incurred, even if Cadwgan had ultimately improved their situations.