"Where are you bound, my lord? I can send word when your friend is ready to be moved." She sipped the soup, understanding now why it had resisted spicing. In the back of her mind, she must have sensed an impending patient.
"Home to Wales." He didn't even pause between mouthfuls to answer. "But you won't need to send for me. I'm staying."
Staying? That was never going to work!
"But my lord, there is only the one bed." True there was also the loft, where her father stayed on his visits, but Selene had planned on sleeping there herself.
He cocked one golden-brown eyebrow and tilted his head toward the ladder to the loft. So he'd seen it. Fie! Then he swallowed and nodded.
"I'll pitch my campaign tent in the field beyond the cottage. I've spent more nights in that than in a bed these last many years."
Oh. How utterly reasonable. Selene sagged into her chair and nodded.
"That will be fine, my lord." She studied her soup, unwilling to gaze on him openly.
"Rhodri." His voice was gruff, but gentle, and so soft she could not make out his words.
"Beg pardon, my lord?"
He cleared his throat then spoke again, marginally louder this time.
"Since I'll be your guest, you may as well use my name. It's Rhodri. Rhodri ap Cadoc, Earl of Llyan." There was but a trace of a Welsh lilt to his English, just enough to lend a musical softness to his rough tone.
An earl? Oh my! She struggled not to let her discomfort show. Here and now, he was only a man, like any other, she reminded herself.
"Well that explains the lion on your shield, I suppose." She sent him a smile. "I am called Selene. Welcome, Rhodri."
He tipped his head in a bow.
"Well met, Mistress Selene. I am eternally in your debt. What boon can I offer in return for you care of my young charge? Name it and it is yours."
"Let us wait until he recovers to talk of payment, my lord."
He gave her an unexpectedly engaging grin and tsked.
"I mean Rhodri. But you could begin by explaining to me how it is that there are gashes and blood on your clothing, yet none on your skin."
God's blood, she would have to ask that! He gave her the same lie he'd used many times in the past.
"The marks on my clothing are old. I forgot to have them cleaned and mended before this journey. Much of the blood comes from my enemies and is not my own."
She slanted him a nod, but her pale grey eyes registered skepticism. They were lovely eyes, he noted, now that he had the leisure to look at her. Clear and bright, for all their light color. Her slender face had paled since his arrival, and there were shadows beneath her eyes, along with tiny lines at the corners, indicating she was probably a good bit older than the fifteen or sixteen he'd taken her for in the garden. She'd removed her blood-stained apron, and her green woolen gown clung to generous breasts and a trim waist. He felt a stirring in his groin, and cursed mentally. She was granting him a tremendous boon, he reminded himself. He was not about to dishonor her in her own home. Not even the beast that lived inside him would steal this last shred of honor and decency, he vowed.
"Have you had enough to eat?" She peered at him with a quizzical smile. "You look exhausted, my - that is, Rhodri. If I promise to watch over your friend, perhaps you could rest for a bit?"
He sighed. He was exhausted. They'd risen well before dawn to be on their way, Huw, in a rush to show off his new spurs to his family, and Rhodri who just ached to be home and at peace. Without the robbers, they would have been in Wales in a day or two, then home to Llyan in just a couple more. Who knew, now, how long it would be before Rhodri felt the comfort of his own castle walls?
"What I truly could use is a bath." He knew he reeked of sweat, horse, and blood. And judging by her person and the state of the cottage, his hostess was an unusually clean woman. "Is there a stream or pond nearby?"
She smiled, "A stream, though 'tis cold right now. I have a bathing tub, if you'd prefer to heat water and use that instead."
It was tempting. A hot bath, here in this pleasant room, perhaps with her to wash his back? Rhodri felt his body harden, and shook his head.
"The stream will be fine." Hopefully, it would be very, very cold.
He left her perched on a chair in her bedchamber, sewing and watching over Huw. He checked on the horses before walking down to the stream. They were happily munching on oats in the lean-to shelter, alongside a pretty little mare. The healer must have a wealthy protector to afford such a nice piece of horseflesh.
She'd assured him that the local lord had granted her permission to hunt whatever meat she pleased, so Rhodri shot a brace of rabbits on the way back to her cottage, after his bath in the icy brook. The frigid water had cooled his lust, but done little to assuage his inner turmoil over his reaction to Selene.
He hadn't been celibate since his curse, but he had been careful. When his physical needs grew too strong - usually right before or after the new moon - he would seek out a whore and pay her well. He'd never known one to complain when he withdrew before completion, and a few had even been willing to take him in their mouths instead. He'd run no risk of siring a child that might not be entirely - human. But Selene was no harlot, and the new moon was a week or more away. So why was his body responding so urgently to her presence?