He heard a moan and a loud rustle from the back room, so he tossed the rabbits to the table before hurrying back.
"Dormez, mon ami. Tout c'est bien." Sleep, all is well. He heard the soft, soothing murmur as he drew back the curtain. Selene was bent over Huw, mopping his brow with a clean, damp cloth. The lad's thrashing subsided, and he drew a great breath as he fell back against the pillows.
"How is he?" Was that his voice, so rusty and frightened?
"He is in some pain," Selene admitted, straightening. "But resting moderately well, all things considered. I did get him to take a few sips of broth, and his mind was clear. I think he was having a nightmare for a moment, which is not unexpected."
"No." Huw had been with Rhodri in the Holy Land. He'd seen enough to give ten men nightmares. Then another aspect of the scene occurred to him. "You speak French."
"Yes." Selene returned the cloth to the basin and reclaimed her seat by the window. "And Italian," she added in that language. "Also Latin, Greek, German, and even a little Welsh."
"But how - " He broke off, sure he'd offended her.
She smiled gently.
"How has a peasant lass become so educated? My father is a bard, an itinerant performer. The ballads he sings come from many lands and many tongues. When I was small he spent every winter here with my mother and me. I've no voice for song, but I do seem to have a knack for the words."
"And now?" He noticed she spoke in the present tense, wondered if he was about to have an irate father holding him at sword point. He'd known a few bards, and noble or not, many of them could hold their own with a rapier or broadsword.
"Since my mother's death, his visits are shorter. He's usually here for Christmas, then again for a time at Midsummer."
Ah. Not soon then, thank goodness.
"I brought back some rabbits for dinner."
She wrinkled her pert little nose and grinned impishly as she rose.
"Then I suppose 'tis only fair that I go clean them. Would you mind watching over your friend?"
He smiled. At last he saw a service that he could do for her.
"I'm a better butcher than nursemaid. What say you, I go clean the game, while you continue the vigil?"
She smiled more widely at that.
"The knives and a large pot are on the shelf nearest the fire." She studied him for a moment. "And thank you, Rhodri."
The sound of his name on her lips was so lushly sensual, Rhodri did the only thing he could honorably do. He fled.
By the next day, Huw was on the road to recovery. Enough so that he had pinched Selene's bottom after she fed him his luncheon, earning him a stern rebuke from his former master.
Rhodri. What was she going to do about him? Selene paused during her dinner preparations to take stock of her conflicting emotions about the Welsh lord. He made her feel things she'd never known before, things she hadn't expected to ever experience. She was a spinster, and for want of a better word, a witch. He was a warrior and a belted earl. There was no future with him for her, only heartbreak. And yet - she sensed such deep tragedy below the surface in him. If she could somehow get close enough to him to help heal that, perhaps it would be worth the tears she would shed when he left.
She thought back over the day as well as the night before. Rhodri had been the perfect guest. True to his word, he'd spent last night in his tent, pitched within shouting distance of the cottage. This morning after wolfing down an enormous breakfast, he had announced his intention to provide fish for supper, and taken himself off to the stream. Not before he'd tended the horses, including hers, claiming she was busy nursing Huw, and that dealing with three was as easy as taking care of two. When he had returned shortly before midday, he'd even cleaned the trout.
After luncheon, he volunteered to repair the loose door in the stable. Then it was a rotted board on the step at the front door. Finally, he decided the wood pile was low, and helped himself to the axe after dragging a deadfall oak out of the forest. Now he was sitting beside his friend while Selene prepared the fish for their supper. At least she would eat well while they stayed, she mused. And her cottage would be in the best repair it had seen in years. Never mind that she'd get no sleep with Rhodri near.
That evening while Huw slept, they sat together in the two rocking chairs by the hearth. Selene busied herself with a bit of embroidery while Rhodri whittled at a branch. A cool spring rain had begun and the warmth of the crackling fire was welcome.
"Is that silver thread you're using?" Rhodri's voice was bemused.
She smiled.
"Yes, and I've thread of gold as well. Gifts from my father. The lords he entertains reward him well." And the ladies even better, she thought. He'd been loyal to her mother during her life, but Selene knew her father had reverted to his bachelor ways soon after Serena's death.
"And the glass windows?"
"A wealthy lady on the marriage of her daughter to the son of a duke. To hear my father tell it, he all but performed the ceremony. The silver cups were from another admirer. But the silver spoons he had made just for my mother."
"Your father must be quite a bard."
Selene's stomach fluttered at his smile.
"He is." She turned back to her needlework.
"What's his name?"
"Dominic. They call him Dominic D'Argente."