Page 2 of A Second Chance for Carys
After one last smile, Branwen turned her attention back to the men.
“I think you and your guests will find everything to your satisfaction,” James told his master, noting that the young man had never looked better. Marriage seemed to suit him.
“I’m sure I will. When have you let anyone down, James?”
“Never, I hope.”
James acknowledged the praise with a slight bow. Matthew was the only one here to call him by his Christian name, instead of “Mortimer.” But then again, he was not of noble blood either, only Lord Sheridan’s milk brother. Secretly, James had always considered him like the son he’d never seen grow up. By coincidence, his little Edward had died only weeks after Matthew’s mother, Rose. The bastard son of the poor maid had been raised by the late Lord Sheridan alongside his heir, Connor. But James had been the one to teach him all he knew. The orphan and the father without a son had been natural allies, and helped one another.
Putting those unhelpful considerations to one side, he turned his attention to the rest of the retinue. The two women standing either side of Matthew looked rather similar to one another, with their long, dark hair and full, red lips, and both appeared as if they could be his bride. Which one was Branwen, he wondered? The third woman, slightly to the left of the group, was blonde and markedly older. He barely spared her a glance. Probably a lady’s maid they had brought from Esgyrn Castle to assist the two women. Behind her was Richard, Matthew’s long lost father, who nodded his greetings. The rest of the group consisted of themen at arms who would have ensured the safety of the women during the travel, and a huge gray wolfhound.
“Meet my wife, Branwen.” Matthew wrapped an arm around the waist of the woman to his right, who could not help a blush. She had extraordinary golden eyes, James noticed, of a color rarely seen.
“You are right welcome at Sheridan Manor, my lady.”
No one pointed out that, strictly speaking, she had no right to the title, being married to a man of low birth. Everyone here called Matthew “my lord,” anyway.
“Thank you. I am glad to be here.”
“This is her sister, Eirwen.” The other dark-haired girl gave a brief nod. James returned it, noting that her eyes were of a more common brown. “And this is Carys, their mother.”
Ah, he’d gotten it completely wrong. The older woman was not a servant at all. Of course! He’d been told the Welsh bride would bring her mother with her, so he should have guessed who she was, as there were no other women in the retinue. In his defense, with her fair hair and blue eyes, she looked completely different from her daughters, so much so that he had not for a moment thought she could be Matthew’s mother-in-law. And…perhaps to be more soon. The way Richard was hovering by the woman’s side indicated a desire to further their acquaintance. Or perhaps they were already involved with each other. It was possible. They were of an age, and they had spent a month in Wales together, as well as a week on the road. It would not surprise him if the carpenter had been struck and tried to woo the woman.
Because now that James had taken the time to look at her, he saw that she was, well, striking.
Some women looked good in their young years, before losing some of their appeal when life made their features harden. Others only became more attractive with age. He suspected thatCarys was one of them. Not that she would not have looked good twenty years ago, he imagined. But maturity undoubtedly suited her.
The lines following the corner of her eyes and bracketing her mouth were testimony to a life rich in happiness and laughter. Her eyes were of the celestial blue he’d always associated with innocence and honesty. Her mouth was rosy pink, her skin creamy white, her hair bursting with shades ranging from copper to silver to gold, her dress the kind of green only ever seen in spring, on newly grown grass. She was vibrant with energy and colors. Next to this explosion of life he felt rather drab, like a dried leaf would be, while lying on the ground next to a tree in full bloom.
If that was what Welsh women looked like, then it was no wonder both Connor and Matthew had fallen in love with them.
Carys blushed slightly under his scrutiny, as if ill at ease. How would she feel here, in a foreign country, away from everything and everyone she knew? Not only that, but as a Welsh woman, she would be under the impression she’d entered the wolves’ lair.
He frowned. Why was he worrying about all that? He should be ushering Matthew and his new wife into the great hall, offering them refreshments, seeing to the comfort of everyone and giving the grooms their orders, not staring at a woman he didn’t know and wondering how she would fare in England, no matter how beautiful she looked.
“Please, let’s get you all settled. You’ll find everything you need in the great hall. If you will follow me?”
Unable to resist, he had addressed this last sentence to Carys. But instead of moving, she shook her head. Was she offended? Why? What had he said?
Branwen placed a hand on her mother’s arm. “Mam doesn’t speak a word of English or understand more than ‘yes’ and ‘no’,I’m afraid.” With this apology, she translated his words to her mother.
Carys nodded and surprised him, and probably her daughter as well, when she turned to him and said, very distinctively: “Thank you.”
“Well.” Branwen let out a tinkle of a laugh. “I guess she does know a few words. I had no idea.”
It didn’t take James long to understand why Matthew might have fallen under the woman’s spell. Her beauty was not just surface deep. Her voice was sultry, her accent endearing, her manners delightful. He looked at Carys again, wondering how mother and daughter could look so different. She was as fair as Branwen was dark, her eyes, as he’d remarked before, were blue rather than golden, and her face a completely different shape. All in all, she looked nothing like her or Eirwen. Maybe the girls took after their father, then. Where was the man? Had he decided to remain in Wales? Was he dead, perhaps?
He started. Here he was again, allowing himself to get distracted by the Welsh woman when he should be ushering the hungry travelers into the great hall.
With slow deliberation, he turned away from her. “This way.”
“Good boy. I bet you are itching to have a good run, aren’t you? Don’t let me stop you. I wish I could go with you.”
Carys ruffled Silver’s hair affectionately. The dog had been given to Branwen by Matthew some months ago and had become a family favorite. That morning she had taken him with her on her walk because, unlike the people at Sheridan Manor, he didn’t mind her speaking in Welsh. It would take her a whileto make friends here, since she could only communicate with her two daughters.
While she sat on a log to watch the river flow in the sunshine, as she’s predicted, Silver shot away to expend his pent up energy.
When he came back a moment later, he was accompanied by another wolfhound the color of ripe wheat.
