Page 93

“The Vikings,” she gasped. “Oh, Rhiannon, forgive me my thoughtlessness. Their arrival must have stirred up terrible memories.”

“They did. Seeing the man who killed my father again was a numbing shock.”

Gwenllian’s face paled. “He is here?”

“He is. And that is why I felt compelled to leave the beach so abruptly and why I cannot attend the banquet.”

“You must tell Father,” she said. “He will have the man’s head.”

“I confess, over the last few hours, I have considered doing that very thing more times than I can count, but think on the likely consequences of such an action, Gwenllian. Rather than having Cadwaladr’s return be reason for the hostilities between the Norsemen and Cymry to ease, they would worsen. Do you not think the Vikings would seek revenge on Owain Gwynedd for committing such an act at a time of supposed reconciliation? What form would that take? More raids on Gwynedd’s coast? More loss of innocent life?” She clasped her hands tightly. “I am attempting to quell my own desire for retribution, to look beyond my own pain, in order to minimize what might be inflicted on others.”

“That is all very noble, but a man such as that should not be seated at a table in the king of Gwynedd’s court,” Gwenllian protested. “Neither should his presence prevent yours.”

Rhiannon took her cousin’s hand and squeezed it gratefully. “I am perfectly content eating in my room. You know that I do not care to dress up or attend these kinds of events as you do.”

Gwenllian’s frown had returned. “He should not leave here unpunished, Rhiannon.”

Rhiannon sighed. “Leif believes that the murderer will ultimately pay for what he has done, even if the punishment is not meted out by the king.”

“Leif? You have spoken to him of this?”

“He came to the cemetery.”

For the first time, Gwenllian looked mildly uncomfortable. “He asked where he could find you. I know you asked to be left alone, but his concern for you appeared sincere.”

“I believe it was,” Rhiannon said.

Gwenllian studied her much as she was wont to examine new bolts of silk, searching for something a casual passerby might not see. And then slowly and deliberately, the corners of her mouth turned upward. “You have feelings for him,” she said.

Willing the warmth in her cheeks to subside, Rhiannon caught her lower lip with her teeth. It was the wrong thing to do. The memory of Leif’s kiss came flooding back.

Gwenllian’s smile widened. “Have you fallen in love?”

“No.” Her response was too quick.

Gwenllian laughed. “It is nothing to be ashamed of, you goose. Since he obviously cares deeply for you, you have reason to feel joyful.”

“I want to be happy, truly I do, but Leif is a Norseman. He has participated in raids with other Vikings. He was there when my father—” The lump in her throat choked her words.

“He learned Gaelic from an Irish priest, did he not?”

Rhiannon nodded mutely.

“And did he come to accept the doctrines he learned along the way?”

“He . . . he claims to be a Christian. He has spoken of Jesus with me.”

Gwenllian’s grip upon her hand intensified. “He is a good man, Rhiannon. Believe me, such creatures are more rare than they ought to be. Leif has already proven his trustworthiness, bravery, and honor. That he has singled you out does him further credit.” She smiled again, but this time it held a trace of sadness. “I saw how he held you when he carried you, injured and bleeding, to your chambers at Dinefwr Castle. He exhibited the same tenderness Anarawd showed me. You are precious to him. If you reciprocate his feelings, do not allow his heritage or yours to come between you.”

“What would my father say if he had utterance?” It was the question that had tortured her ever since Leif had left her standing at her parents’ gravesite.

“He would have you follow your heart.” Gwenllian was firm. “Think on it, Rhiannon, if the Vikings had not come to Bryn Eithin that night, you would likely have married Cadwgan with no knowledge of his blackened heart. Your father would have been forced to witness your unhappiness. I believe it would have destroyed him, for he always placed your happiness above all else.” She raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Including allowing you to spend endless hours barefoot on the beach long after you should have outgrown such pursuits.”

Rhiannon smiled at the memory. “He was overly indulgent with me.”

“He knew you like no other, and he believed that, ultimately, you would choose wisely.” She took a deep breath. “You proved it when—regardless of prior expectations or fear of the unknown—you listened to your heart and forbore from marrying Cadwgan immediately after your father’s death.” She looked at her pointedly. “Have you put aside your worries long enough to listen to your heart now?”

For the first time since she’d returned to the llys, Rhiannon allowed her thoughts to wander back to her walks along the beach when she’d searched the horizon for any sign of Leif’s return. Weeks of disappointment over a sea clear of vessels contrasted with the thrill she’d experienced this morning at the sight of the Viking ships.