Page 84 of Enticing the Devil

Anne met her mother-in-law’s compassionate gaze. There was something about the older woman—an utter lack of judgement and prejudice, perhaps—that inspired complete honesty.

Without hesitation, Anne confessed, “I imagine I’m not the kind of wife you’d have wished for Beynon but I’ve no intention of being a burden. I know I have a lot to learn, but I can be quite determined when I set my mind to something.”

The older woman leaned forward to take one of Anne’s hands in hers. “Trust me, where you come from is not nearly as important as where you hope to go. I know this firsthand. When I married Cedric, I didn’t know the first thing about sheep farming. But I learned. Eventually.” Then she winked. “Don’t worry. We’ll have you shearing the flock with the rest of us come Michaelmas.”

Anne’s eyes widened. Michaelmas was only weeks away. The older woman gave a husky laugh, which did not at all clarify whether her declaration had been made in jest or in all seriousness.

Chapter Twenty-nine

The woolen blanket slipped from around Anne’s shoulders but she didn’t bother replacing it. Unable to sleep, she’d pulled one of the armchairs over to the windows in her bedroom. Though the night air wafted freely through the open casement, it was warm and pleasant despite the fact she wore only a thin cotton nightgown.

She’d been at Gwaynynog for nearly a week now. And in that time, she’d begun to develop a true friendship with Glynnis and had learned a great deal about the village and the farm’s history as they talked over tea each morning. She’d stood alongside Eirwyn in the kitchen, sharing amusing anecdotes from her London seasons while the girl walked her through basic cooking tasks. At Anne’s request, the young woman had also started teaching Anne some common Welsh phrases. She’d spent a lovely afternoon with Aron and Daryn as they showed her the barn and the yards walled with stacked slate where the sheep were brought for shearing. And she’d tramped hand in hand with Edwin and Carys as the two youngest Thomas children led her around the lower pastures, which were thick with grass and wildflowers since their flocks were kept in the mountains during the warmest months.

Everyone in Beynon’s family had been more welcoming and warmer than Anne could have hoped. Though they occasionally teased her for her unavoidable ignorance on some things, they never made her feel like she didn’t belong. In a short time, Gwaynynog had begun to feel like more of a home than the house in which she’d grown up.

Anne was grateful. So much of her anxiety had proven to be unnecessary. Of course, life was significantly different from what she might have expected as the wife of a lord, but she couldn’t help but feel this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

She felt grounded here. Connected. And though she still had so much to learn about her role and responsibilities on the farm, she believed she’d get there. If her life had taught her anything to date, it was that she knew what it took to meet a challenge. And for the first time, she felt as though she was doing it for her own satisfaction and enjoyment rather than simply because it was what was required of her.

There was only one thing keeping her from feeling utterly content with her new life.

In the six days since her arrival, she’d seen Beynon a total of five times. Briefly and at a distance. He was always gone by the time she rose in the mornings, and if he happened to be within the old stone house, he was likely to be holed up in his study.

One day, Anne had heard his voice from where she’d been helping Eirwyn prepare meat pies for their supper. By the time she’d gotten to the front hall, she noted his study door was closed—a clear indicator he was inside. Determined to see him, if for no other reason than to force him to acknowledge her presence, she’d strode toward the door, only to be brought up short by young Edwyn.

The quiet, keen-eyed boy had stepped in front of her and held his finger to his lips.

“You can’t go in there.”

“I only wish to say hello,” she explained gently.

The six-year-old boy gave a vigorous shake of his head. “It’s the only quiet room in the house and it needs to stay that way.”

Anne had smiled, understanding why such a rule might have been created considering how unquiet the rest of the house could get with five children running about. Not wanting to undermine the sanctity of the master’s study, she’d allowed Edwyn to lead her away.

She took a deep breath now as she stared out to the black night sky.

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