CHAPTER FOURTEEN
There was something about the scent of Rhoswyn that fed Troy’s lust in a way he’d never before known.
Womanly, musky. Something that filled his nostrils and went right through to his brain. She had long limbs and a long torso, and an hour before dawn, he’d managed to pull her clothing off, roll her onto her back, and cover her with his body. His mouth was all over her flesh, feeding on her breasts, as he wedged himself between her legs and thrust into her warm and tender folds. She gasped a bit and he knew it was because she was still sore from the previous night, unaccustomed to a man’s intrusion into her body.
But that was going to change.
Perhaps it was because Troy hadn’t been with a woman since Helene’s death. Or perhaps it was because something about Rhoswyn really did arouse him. Whatever the case, he thrust into her mercilessly until he found his release, but he didn’t relinquish her after that. He simply remained on top of her, holding her, his body still embedded in hers, kissing and touching her until he could feel himself grow hard again. Then he made love to her a second time, climaxing so hard that he bit his lip with the sheer force of it. And then he kissed her, deeply, his tongue tasting the honeyed recesses of her mouth as he moved in and out of her until his manhood was flaccid. He could feel what he’d put into her, making her very slick, and he wondered about the magnificent sons he would have from the woman.
Considering the mother, they would be the most powerful sons the Marches had yet to see.
Two days of knowing Rhoswyn had brought him to some conclusions. As he lay in the pre-dawn darkness, listening to the fire as it popped and crackled, burning low in the hearth, Troy knew that there was something about her that wildly aroused him, as if he couldn’t control himself. The smell of her, the feel of her – all of it created a combination he couldn’t seem to resist. Another conclusion was that for all of the lust he was feeling for her, that was all he wanted to feel for her. He couldn’t let his hunger for her cross the line into emotion. To do so would be to diminish the love he had for Helene. Gone or not, she was still the wife of his heart.
He wanted to keep it that way.
But, God… he had a feeling it was going to be difficult. As he lay there and listened to the birds, coming alive as a hint of dawn approached the horizon, Rhoswyn was laying on her side and he was right up against her, their warm flesh touching. His arms were around her, his right arm slung over her and his right hand by her left breast. He had his hand around it, feeling the warmth and softness in his palm. He kept thinking about their first full day together, and how hard she had tried to please him. And, God’s Bones, she was humorous when she wanted to be. When she smiled, she had slightly protruding eyeteeth on an otherwise brilliant set of teeth, but he found her smile very charming.
Just like the rest of her.
There was a soft knock at the chamber door, rousing him from his thoughts. Before he could move, Rhoswyn was leaping to her feet, grabbing at the tunics that were cast on the ground. She also grabbed for a dagger, all of this as Troy sat up in bed, watching her rush to the door with the blade in her hand ready to kill whoever was on the opposite side of the door.
“Who is it?” she demanded.
The voice was muffled on the other side of the panel. “It is Sable, my lady,” she said. “It is time to go to work.”
Standing naked at the door, Rhoswyn turned to look at Troy with a rather apprehensive look on her face. “I… I must dress,” she called back as Troy tossed the woolen coverlet off and went for his clothing. “I’ll be out in a moment!”
Troy could see that Rhoswyn was trying desperately to dress and not expose herself to him, so he turned his back on her as he went for his breeches and tunic. He found them quickly, sliding them on his muscular body and stoking the fire as Rhoswyn pulled on her leather breeches and the layers of tunics she usually wore. Troy glanced over his shoulder at her as she pulled on her boots, tying up the leather straps. In a flash, she was throwing open the chamber door.
Sable was standing on the landing, looking properly groomed and radiant in a dark blue wool traveling gown, one that was made for the rigors of travel or work. Rhoswyn came barreling out of the chamber, smelling of smoke and sex, in that order. Sable had been married long enough to know what a man’s musk smelled like. It didn’t seem to vary much. She smiled pleasantly at Rhoswyn but looking at the woman, her heart ached for her. She was an utter mess. Her beautiful hair was in a rat’s nest and smelling as if she’d just rolled in a man’s bed and probably a few pig pens, too.
Sable knew she couldn’t let the woman walk around like that, not if she was to be a proper wife to a very important border lord. She further knew that if the de Wolfe women got a look at her – Troy’s mother, for example – there would be hell to pay. She put her hands up to prevent Rhoswyn from rushing down the steps and on to the duties that await them.
“Good morn, Lady de Wolfe,” she said. “Will you wait here a moment? I must speak with your husband.”
Rhoswyn nodded, looking at Sable curiously as the woman entered the chamber where Troy was. She continued to watch as Sable whispered something to Troy, something that made him look at Rhoswyn as if considering what Sable was telling him. She suspected that whatever it was, it was clearly about her, because Troy finally nodded before both he and Sable turned to approach her as she stood in the doorway. Troy cleared his throat softly, perhaps a bit nervously, as he began to speak.
“My lady,” he said. “Lady Sable has pointed out something to me that we must address. Now, I realize that you have spent your life being trained as a warrior and living among men. For that reason, you have picked up the unfortunate habits of men.”
Rhoswyn cocked her head curiously. “Habits?” she repeated. “What habits?”
Troy wasn’t quite sure how to tactfully tell her that she looked like an unwashed animal, so Sable spoke kindly.
“Lady de Wolfe, you have married into a great family,” she said. “When you became his wife, your situation changed. There are things that are expected of you now, like being a chatelaine. I am here to help you learn how to execute your duties flawlessly, but there is much more to being Lady de Wolfe than merely being an efficient chatelaine. It means that you will dress and behave like a lady because, in doing so, you honor your husband greatly.”
Rhoswyn had an idea that Sable was speaking of her appearance and she looked down at herself, slovenly-looking, and began to feel some embarrassment.
“I dunna have anythin’ else tae wear,” she said. “These are me clothes. I have always worn them.”
Sable could see that Rhoswyn was feeling self-conscious and she reached out to gently touch the woman’s arm. “You needn’t worry at all,” she said reassuringly. “I will show you what you need to know and we can purchase fabric to make you fine clothing. Would you like that?”
Rhoswyn didn’t know what to say; dressing and behaving like a lady was perhaps even more frightening than learning to be a chatelaine. But gazing into Troy’s handsome face made her reconsider. He was smiling faintly at her and she was seized with the desire to please the man. It seemed that all she wanted to do was please him. Certainly, he deserved a wife he could be proud of, in every way. When he nodded encouragingly, her hesitation broke down completely.
“Aye,” she said, looking to Sable. “I would.”
Sable smiled brightly as she turned to Troy. “My lord, will you mind helping me?” she asked. When he nodded, she continued eagerly. “My servants are already in the kitchen yard, preparing for the morning meal, but they also started a very large pot of water to boil. I need that hot water and some kind of tub to wash in. Is there one here?”
Troy was thoughtful as he looked at Rhoswyn to see if she knew of something like that. “I have not seen anything that can be used as a tub, but I believe I did see an iron pot that was big enough for a man to climb into,” he said. “It is near the kitchen yard, near the outbuildings.”
“Ah,” Sable said. “Pots of that size are usually for stripping bones. It probably would not be very clean, at least for our purposes. Do you have a barrel we could use? An old wine barrel, mayhap?”
Troy held up a finger. “I think I know,” he said. “There is something like that in the stable, used to hold feed for the animals. Where would you like me to bring it?”
Sable already had Rhoswyn by the arm, pulling her to the only other door on that level, beyond which was the room she and Cassius had slept in that night.
“Here!” Sable said. “Bring it in here with the hot water. And hurry!”
Troy would never forget the expression of apprehension on Rhoswyn’s face as Sable dragged her into her bedchamber. But it was good for her to be a little apprehensive of what was to come, as it would make her more docile to Sable’s intentions. As Sable’s whispered words had been made clear to him – your wife is in need of a good scrubbing – he had been forced to agree. In truth, Rhoswyn’s dirt hadn’t bothered him, for it wasn’t something he particularly noticed, but to have the woman cleaned up… he could only imagine how beautiful she would be. It was all part of learning how to be a proper wife.
With a grin, he quickly went about the assigned tasks as Lady de Shera had asked. There was a sense of purpose in the air this morning and Troy was eager to see the end result.
As Troy went off to do Sable’s bidding, Rhoswyn found herself pulled into the chamber her guests had slept in the night before. After Troy and Sable had found her weeping on the top floor, they had immediately put her to work helping bring Sable’s things up to the borrowed bedchamber, and that included things Rhoswyn had never seen before – beautiful trunks, fine mattress shells all rolled up and waiting to be stuffed with fresh straw or feathers, smaller capcases that contained mysterious potions. They even smelled good, lined with lavender and herbs.
Moving Sable and Cassius into the chamber also involved stuffing one of the mattresses that Sable had brought with some of the straw that had been stored in the barn. It wasn’t very fresh, but it was dry, and Rhoswyn helped Sable stuff the mattress while the men moved in the last of the trunks from the provisions wagon. Soon enough, it was like a chamber of wonders, filled with more possessions than Rhoswyn had ever seen.
This morning, the chamber was still stuffed full of things that someone had carefully organized. But Rhoswyn didn’t have time to inspect anything because Sable put her in the corner and told her to remain, and she did. She stood there while Sable began to open trunks and pull forth items – clothing, combs, and other things that Rhoswyn couldn’t really identify. She had no idea what was going on but she knew that it all had something to do with her and the clothing she was wearing.
Truly, it was pathetic, her clothing. Compared to what Sable was wearing, a proper lady’s garments, she looked terrible. But they were all garments from her father – or what she’d happened to come by in her years of living at Sibbald’s. In fact, the leather tunic she wore had belonged to her grandfather. There was absolutely nothing she owned that had been made for her except the leather breeches. The tanner at Sibbald’s had made those for her a few years ago when her legs grew long and the breeches she had no longer fit. Of course, she knew what fine ladies wore, never more obvious now with Sable around. They wore lovely surcoats and shifts. But Rhoswyn didn’t have any of that.
A situation that was soon to change.
Troy arrived carrying a very big copper pot or bucket up from the stables; it was difficult to tell what it was because it was badly dented and the interior of it was black with oxidation, but he’d had his stable hands rinse it out and try to at least clean it up before he brought it up to the ladies. Sable inspected it closely and it seemed as if the oxidation didn’t rub off, or come off, so she deemed it safe for her purposes. Sending Troy and his men for the hot water, she lined the pot with two large pieces of a sheer linen fabric and set out a variety of phials and combs as she was waiting for the water.
Still, Rhoswyn said nothing because she had no idea what was coming. When Troy and his men returned, it was with buckets and smaller pots of hot water, and Sable directed them to pour it into the lined copper tub. Steaming water splashed in and Sable put drops of oil into the water that filled the chamber with the smell of lavender. On the floor beside the pot, she seemed very busy preparing potions and other things, and that went on until the pot was about half-full, and Troy and his men left the chamber and shut the door. Then, Sable turned to her.
Or turned on her. The demands began to come forth.
“Off with your clothing, my lady,” she said. “Into the tub with you.”
Rhoswyn’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Get… get intae it?”
Sable nodded briskly and went to her, reaching out for her. “Allow me to assist you.”
She didn’t really give Rhoswyn a choice. She began untying the leather ties that held together the leather apron and, from that point on, Rhoswyn could only stand there like a dullard as Sable virtually stripped her. When they came down to only her breeches and a thin tunic left, Rhoswyn balked, feeling very self-conscious, but Sable gently coaxed the remaining clothing from her by holding up a large piece of drying material, made from a combination of wool and even rare cotton, woven together so it would wick the water off the skin.
But Rhoswyn wasn’t concerned with drying her skin. She was concerned with shielding her nakedness, which Sable thoughtfully did with the drying linen. But she was concerned about the pot of steaming water that was meant for her. She might as well have been looking at the deepest loch in all of Scotland for all of the fear she was feeling.
“But…” she stammered as Sable tried to direct her into the pot. “But what will ye have me do?”
Sable pointed to the pot. “Sit in it, please.”
Rhoswyn was beside herself. “Sit in it?”
Sable nodded patiently. “Sit in it and I shall bathe you.”
Rhoswyn hesitated. “I dunna like water,” she insisted. “I canna swim. I dunna want tae sit in it!”
Sable remained patient. “It will not hurt you, I promise,” she said. “And you will not drown. You’ve not drown in a bath in all these years and that will not change today.”
Rhoswyn stared at the steaming pot. “I havena… that is, I dunna take a bath. I have a cloth and bucket I use sometimes, but I never… swim in it.”
Sable was rather shocked to learn that Rhoswyn had never before taken a bath but, given the dirt on the woman, she wasn’t particularly surprised. She thought it was time for a little brutal honesty with a woman who probably had no real idea of the situation she was in and what was expected of her.
Sometimes a little forthrightness was needed.
“You are not expected to swim in it,” she said. “You will sit in it and I will wash the dirt from you. My lady, please do not think I am trying to be cruel, but it is time for total truth. Do you believe we should be truthful with each other?”
Rhoswyn eyed her warily. “Aye.”
“Do you believe that friends are concerned for one another? Because I very much wish to be your friend.”
Rhoswyn shrugged. “I dunna have any friends.”
Sable smiled. “Then I am honored to be your first,” she said. “Please know that, as your friend, everything I do is for your own good. I would never do anything to harm you or to shame you. You must believe that. Now, from one friend to another, the way you are at this moment is a disgrace to your husband. You smell like a barnyard and you look like you have not combed your hair in years. That does not honor your husband, my lady. It makes men feel a great deal of pity for him.”
Rhoswyn was torn between defiance and the realization that Sable was correct; she was rather dirty. And smelly. She looked down at herself, seeing the stains on her tunic, knowing her hair was a mess, and she began to feel very awkward and embarrassed.
“No one has ever said such things,” she defended herself weakly. “Me pa… he looks the same as I do.”
“And you want to look like a smelly man for the rest of your life?” Sable countered. Then, she shook her head firmly. “Nay, you shall not. Now, remove the remainder of your clothing and get into that tub or I shall have to do it for you. I may appear small and weak, but I can give you a fight if that is what you are looking for. I will clean this dirt off of you or die trying.”
It seemed like a rather passionate declaration simply for a bath, but Rhoswyn believed her. These English women had different ways when it came to dress and cleanliness, or so she’d heard, and she had no doubt that Lady Sable saw Rhoswyn as a great challenge. The woman probably wouldn’t hesitate to club her and drag her into the water. Because she didn’t want to be clubbed, and she didn’t want to fight against a woman who had only been helpful since the moment they met, Rhoswyn begrudgingly removed her leather breeches, her tunic, and then jumped into the water, splashing it over the sides.
Fighting off a grin, Sable went to work. The first thing she did was take the two bone combs she’d set out and began to comb through Rhoswyn’s considerable mane, which was matted and dirty. It was a shame, too, because it was such a lovely color, and the texture was thick. As Sable combed, Rhoswyn grunted in pain until Sable stopped and handed the woman a lumpy bar of white soap with flecks of lavender buds in it.
“Here,” she said. “Begin washing yourself while I work on your hair.”
She resumed combing and Rhoswyn resumed grunting but, in between groans of pain, Rhoswyn lifted the soap to her nostrils and inhaled the lovely lavender fragrance. She rubbed the bar between her hands in the water and it turned into cream against her flesh. It also washed away the dirt; she could see it. After that, she began to rub the bar with vigor against her skin, washing off the years of accumulated dirt. But every so often, a tug on her head would bring a yelp from her lips.
“Och!” she said as Sable combed out a particularly bad knot. “Ye’ll pull the hair right from me head!”
Sable didn’t ease up. She continued to use the big comb to detangle and the finer comb to smooth through the hair.
“I am sorry,” she said, although she wasn’t. “Your hair is very matted.”
Rhoswyn was rubbing the bar up and down her arm. “It gets that way.”
“You should comb it every day so it does not get that way.”
“I dunna have a comb.”
Sable tugged on a big mat, causing Rhoswyn to flinch. “That will change.”
Rhoswyn’s head jerked back as Sable broke through the tangle. “I have a feelin’ much will change now.”
There wasn’t any self-pity in her words, simply a statement of fact, but it made Sable think. Rhoswyn seemed to come from a very different world than she knew. She was curious about it, and about her.
“Tell me of your life at Sibbald’s,” she said, genuinely interested. “Do you have brothers? Sisters?”
Rhoswyn shook her head as she scrubbed the grime on her left wrist. “Nay,” she said. “Just me pa. Me ma died when I was young, and I never had any brothers or sisters.”
Sable finished with the last of the big mats. “I have two sisters,” she said. “Douglass and Lizbeth.”
“Are they married, too?”
“Douglass is,” she said. “She married a great knight. My husband’s uncle, in fact. But Lizbeth is younger than I am and not yet pledged.”
“Pledged,” Rhoswyn muttered. “That was somethin’ me pa never spoke much of.”
“Why not?”
Rhoswyn rinsed her arm off in the water. “Who would marry me?” she asked flatly. “I can fight better than most men. No one wants a wife who can best him.”
Finished pulling out the tangles, Sable began to comb the hair out with the fine-toothed comb. “Have you always known how to fight?” she asked. “I must say, I have never heard of a woman being trained for such things, but it would be a useful skill to have, I suppose.”
Rhoswyn assumed she was only being kind about it. More and more, she was coming to realize that her father had not raised her as he should have. “Useful tae a man,” she clarified. “But it seems that the English are less impressed with my skills. I canna use a sword tae cook a meal or stuff a mattress.”
Sable set the comb down and reached for a big wooden vessel on the ground. “That is true, but if we were to be attacked right now, you would know what to do, wouldn’t you?”
Rhoswyn started to reply but Sable took the big wooden vessel, filled it with water, and poured it over Rhoswyn’s head. Rhoswyn shrieked when water poured into her mouth, sputtering as Sable poured several loads of water over her head to thoroughly wet her hair. After that, the conversation died as Sable began to scrub Rhoswyn within an inch of her life.
She took the soap Rhoswyn had been using on her body and rubbed it all over her hair, digging her fingers into the scalp and scrubbing. Rhoswyn ended up having to hold on to the edges of the tub because she was being buffeted around so, enduring the scrubbing and scraping and then more rinsing, followed by another rinse through her hair with something that smelled like vinegar.
It was an experience Rhoswyn would never forget, but it was also an experienced she ended up rather enjoying. It was lovely soaking in hot water and having someone scratch her scalp. She had no idea what she’d been missing and when it came time to get out, she did so reluctantly. The water was cooling, but the room was cooler, and she quickly wrapped up in Sable’s amazing drying cloth, sitting on a small stool in front of the fire as Sable went to work combing out her wet hair.
“And how was your bath, my lady?” Sable asked, grinning at Rhoswyn’s relaxed posture. “Did you enjoy it?”
Rhoswyn sighed, warm and clean and feeling wonderful. “I would do it again, very soon,” she said. “I must ask me husband if he will allow me tae purchase soap.”
Sable combed out the long, wet tresses. “Do you not have any?”
Rhoswyn yawned. “I’m sure ye guessed that I dunna,” she said, turning somewhat to look at Sable. “I have nothin’, m’lady, except the clothin’ ye saw me wearin’. I dunna own a comb and I dunna have any of the wonderful things that ye have. It’s not that me pa denied me; I suppose I dinna know tae ask for them.”
Sable had suspected as much. “Well,” she said briskly, “I shall speak with Troy. There must be a nearby village where you can purchase some things that you will need, as the lady of the house. And I will help you sew dresses, if you will allow.”
Rhoswyn shrugged. “I dunna know how tae sew,” she said. Then, she sobered somewhat. Showing gratitude was difficult for her. “Ye… ye’ve been very kind tae me, Lady Sable. I never knew any English until a few days ago, and the English I’ve met have been very kind.”
Sable grinned. “Did you expect otherwise?”
Rhoswyn couldn’t see the woman, as she was facing away from her, but she could hear the humor in her voice. Having never had a friend, it was easy for her to let her guard down with Sable’s kindness. It was rather nice having another lady to talk to.
“All I’ve ever seen of the English are their men,” she said. “I’ve never been this close to an English woman before, so I dunna know what tae expect.”
Sable continued combing and Rhoswyn’s hair was starting to dry by the warmth of the fire, the lovely gold and red shades becoming evident.
“I have known plenty of Scots women,” she said. “Troy’s mother is Scots, in fact. She is very kind. I have, therefore, had experience with many kind Scots women.”
Rhoswyn could sense there was a sisterhood there, a mysterious thing that she was part of now and didn’t even know it. The de Wolfe women. That sisterhood of women married to the most powerful knights on the border, now including her. Desperate to understand, to become what would honor her husband, forced her to turn around and look at Sable.
“Will ye teach me all ye know?” she begged softly. “I feel so… foolish. I never expected tae marry and I certainly never expected tae marry a Sassenach knight, so there is so much I dunna know. Tell me tae do it and I shall. I shall do whatever ye tell me I should because I dunna want tae shame me husband. He’s been so… so kind and patient, too.”
Sable smiled into the woman’s face, sensing that there was more than simply wanting to please her husband behind her request. There was softness in her eyes as she spoke, suggesting to Sable that Troy may have already made a conquest of his new wife. Much as Sable had been astonished at Troy’s manner towards Rhoswyn, she was astonished at Rhoswyn’s behavior towards Troy. Was it possible that the two of them had already found attraction and even affection with one another? Truly, it was something to marvel.
“I will teach you all that I can, I promise,” Sable assured her. “The first thing you should learn is that it is important to groom yourself for your husband. No man wants to live with a slovenly woman, so you will brush your hair every day and you will wash at least your hands and face. You can wash your entire body once a week, but no less. I will tell Troy that he must buy you soaps and oils so you can keep your skin from cracking and also so that you may smell pleasant. Men like women who smell pleasant.”
Rhoswyn was digesting everything eagerly. “They do?”
Sable nodded firmly. “They do,” she said. Then, she turned Rhoswyn around on the stool so that the woman was facing the fire again. She gathered the woman’s damp hair in her hands and began to plait it into a thick braid. “And your clothing; you must not wear your tunics or breeches any longer. It is unseemly for a woman to do so and Troy would appreciate a wife who did not dress as a man. I think I have two dresses that will fit you, as you are taller than I am and the hem of the skirts are longer, but I will tell Troy that he must go to town this very day to purchase fabric for you. You must have your own clothing.”
These were vital lessons that Rhoswyn had missed and she knew it. She was most eager to go along with it all, for Troy’s sake. She could feel Sable tugging at her hair before finally wrapping it at the base of her neck and using big iron pins to secure it into a bun. Standing back, Sable surveyed her handiwork.
“Perfect,” she declared. “Your hair must be combed and secured daily. Do you wish for me to show you how?”
Rhoswyn nodded. “I… I do.”
Sable smiled. “I will show you tonight when you let your hair out,” she said. Then, she spun around to the trunks that were lined up against the wall. “For now, we must find you something to wear.”
Still wrapped in the big drying linen, Rhoswyn stood up and went to peer over Sable’s shoulder as the woman dug through three big trunks against the wall. She would pull forth something, look at it, and either cast it aside or put it in a neat pile on the floor. Rhoswyn continued to watch curiously as Sable finally set aside two long cotes, laying them out on her mattress to get a look at them.
One cote was a shade of dark green, long of sleeve and with a square neckline, while the other one was a pale shade, a faded red. It was very lovely. Both of the garments were made of wool and when Sable was finished inspecting them, she pulled the drying cloth off of Rhoswyn and went to work.
A shift went on first, soft as a butterfly’s wing, followed by the green cote. It was all one piece – sleeves, bodice, and skirt, and it was secured by a series of stays up the back. Sable closed up the stays and handed Rhoswyn a pair of leather slippers for her feet. When Rhoswyn looked at them curiously, not really knowing what they were, Sable showed her the slippers on her own feet so Rhoswyn knew what to do. She slipped them right on. They were a little tight, but they fit, and she marveled at her feet.
“So simple?” she asked in awe. “I always wear me boots, but these shoes are so simple!”
Sable smiled as Rhoswyn’s focus was on her feet. “They will be durable, at least until you can have a tanner make you a pair of your own,” she said. Then, she stood back to admire her handiwork. She had to admit that Rhoswyn was one of the more beautiful women she’d ever seen – auburn hair, pale skin, slender torso. She suspected that Troy would be very pleased. “You will be able to work easily in this. How do you feel?”
Rhoswyn looked at the gown, warm and comfortable, and put her hands up to gingerly touch her pinned hair. “I… I dunna know,” she said. Then, she grinned. “I suppose I feel like a lady.”
Sable laughed softly. “You look like one, too,” she said. “I have a feeling your husband will be very pleased.”
The mere thought made Rhoswyn’s belly quiver. “Will we show him, then?”
Sable reached out and took her hand. “Of course we will,” she said. “You clean up very nicely. Now, promise me something.”
“Anythin’, if I can.”
“No more tunics and leather breeches.”
Rhoswyn struggled not to giggle. “Nay, no more. I promise.”
“And wash the dirt from your face and hands daily.”
“I promise.”
“And comb your hair!”
It was a command and Rhoswyn started to laugh. “If I must.”
“You must! If you do not, I will chase you down and do it for you!”
She was grinning as she said it and Rhoswyn continued laughing as they headed to the door. “With the trouble ye’ve gone to today, I wouldna dare disappoint ye, m’lady.”
Sable opened the door, but her focus was on Rhoswyn. “We are friends now,” she said. “You will call me Sable.”
It was difficult to describe how Rhoswyn felt at that moment. From a woman who had grown up having no one to talk to, and no friends to speak of, to now having a friend all her very own, and a pushy little English lass at that. But it didn’t matter; Rhoswyn felt as if someone cared for her, for the first time in her life. She felt as if she mattered.
“And ye’ll call me Rhoswyn,” she said softly.
“I would be happy to.”
Sable squeezed Rhoswyn’s hand and led her out of the chamber, down to the hall where Troy was lingering with Cassius, Audric, and a few other men.
Rhoswyn would never forget the look on Troy’s face when he saw her. Surely the faces of all of the angels in heaven had never shone so happily.