Kevin nodded as Cal sat across the table and sputtered. “Ah, the fair Elenore,” he said. “At least, that’s what Cal said. Repeatedly. Did you not also suggest marriage to her, Cal?”
Cal was beside himself. “I said no such thing!” he gasped. “By what right do you spread such lies?”
Bannon was starting to chuckle. “Lies? Who says they are lies?” he said. “It is well-known that you troll for women as a fisherman would troll for fish. Throw out a net to as many as you can and see what comes back.”
As he and Kevin snorted, Cal was starting to turn red in the face. He looked at Juliandra. “I have no idea why they are doing this,” he said. “It is lies, all lies. I do not troll for women.”
Juliandra was trying not to grin at the embarrassed young knight. Kevin and Bannon were being rather dastardly in the way they were teasing him, but it was quite humorous. Cal de Poyer was a handsome young knight, but far too immature for her taste. She had seen that over the past two weeks, the way he was quick to temper and quick to speak, whether or not he knew anything on the subject. But he was also big and strong, and she’d heard Kevin say that he was hell in a fight, so he had his redeeming qualities.
But she simply wasn’t interested.
“Have no fear, Cal,” she said. “Your secret is safe with me. I’m afraid you cannot say the same thing about your friends.”
Frustrated and embarrassed, Cal had enough. He collected his cup, and one of the pitchers on the table, and wandered off, making a face at Kevin and Bannon as he went. The pair laughed uproariously at Cal’s distress.
“He shouldn’t bother you again with his sappy flattery,” Kevin told her. “Although the young knight has good taste, he is only making a fool of himself.”
Juliandra looked at him, smiling. “Thank you, good lord,” she said. “But why is he making a fool of himself? A woman likes to hear that she is beautiful now and then.”
Kevin looked at her, feeling too much of that spirited cider in his veins. “Is that so?” he said. “Well, then I shall tell you that I agree with Cal. You are the most beautiful woman on the Marches.”
Juliandra’s cheeks turned pink but her gaze never left him. She was still smiling at him, now appreciatively.
“May I tell you a secret?” she said.
“Please do.”
“You are the only one I care to hear that from.”
His smile faded and he looked at her with great interest. “Truly?” he said. “Then I will tell you every day.”
She lowered her gaze in a flirtatious gesture. “I do not know if I need to hear it daily.”
“You do need to hear it daily. It is true.”
“I am prettier than the English ladies you have known?”
He nodded without hesitation. “English women can be too pampered,” he said. “Sometimes they are too fragile. I do not like fragile women. I like women who can sew a dress or stand up to Cal’s foolish flattery.”
He was saying far more than he should have, but that cider was causing his tongue to loosen. He didn’t even realize he’d said such things until they came out of his mouth. But Juliandra didn’t seem to mind; she smiled at him openly.
“Do you speak of me, sir?” she said, feigning shock. “I never thought I would hear an English knight speak so fondly of me.”
His smile faded. “Do you ever think you will come to the point where you do not see me as English?”
Her smile faded, but not completely. “Do you ever think you will get to the point where you do not see me as Welsh?”
“I already do.”
She studied him a moment, seeing by his expression that it was true. She believed him without question.
“So do I,” she said quietly. “I think I stopped seeing you as Saesneg some time ago. I do not know when; it simply happened. May I tell you another secret?”
“Please.”
“I have enjoyed my time at Wybren.”
He shifted towards her, leaning on the arm of his chair. “You have worked wonders since you have been here,” he said. “Wybren has never run so smoothly. I would keep you here forever if I could.”
Juliandra watched him take another swig of the pear cider, quickly, as if realizing he’d said something he probably shouldn’t have. But she didn’t mind, in truth.
Were it not up to her father, she might like to remain here forever, too.
“Do you plan to stay here forever, then?” she asked. “What I mean to say is that you have three other castles that surely require your attention. Do you plan to abandon them?”
He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I will go back to Trelystan, someday. That is the biggest fortress. I will establish a garrison here with a garrison commander, possibly Gareth or Bannon.”
Juliandra knew both of those knights. She’d spoken to Bannon more than Gareth, who always seemed to be out on patrol. While Bannon was a big, older knight, Gareth was young and very handsome, but very mysterious. He never said much, but it was clear that he was someone who could be intimidating if the need arose.
“What do you plan to do for the rest of your life, Kevin?” she asked, sipping on her own cider. “I mean, now you are the Lord of Wybren. Arglwydd yr awyr. But this is not all your life is meant to be. Surely there is more?”
He knew what she meant. Truth be told, he’d been wrestling with the same thing. As the evening deepened and the minstrels kept on with their songs, all Kevin could see or hear was Juliandra.
What do you plan to do for the rest of your life?
He knew what he wanted to do.
Whether or not that happened would be up to her.
“My life has been preordained,” he said after a moment. “Or, so I thought. Every son of a noble house faces the same future – preordained by his family. In my family, I was the second son. My brother would inherit everything and I was content to serve, to follow. With my brother marrying an heiress, that future has changed considerably. Now, I find myself with the de Lara empire resting on my shoulders while my brother builds his own legacy with Bath and Glastonbury.”
“And you will build your own legacy here?”
“Of course,” he said. “I will marry and have sons to carry on my legacy and the de Lara name. But I respect my ancestors and where they came from. The ancestor who came to these shores with the Anges de Guerre was a nobleman of Aragon heritage, though he was from Gascon. He was the Count du Boucau and a branch of the de Lara family still holds that title. My ancestor’s name was Luc and I always intended to name my firstborn son Luc.”
“Luc,” Juliandra repeated, rolling it over her tongue. “I like that name. It is strong.”
Kevin stared at her a moment before breaking out into a grin. “Then I shall have to marry you because you have already agreed to the name,” he said. “I fear another woman might not be so agreeable. Tell me, Juliandra, how serious is your betrothal to this Aeron ap Gruffudd?”
Juliandra wasn’t sure if he was serious or not, but she went along with it. She shook her head. “I told you that we are not betrothed,” she said. “Aeron simply thinks we are and tells everyone who will listen.”
“Then he would more than likely attack Wybren if I married you.”