When the future lies waiting...

[Lady Aethelyn]

"Move it, girl, he'll be here soon!"

"I am painfully aware, I'm...trying, Hildegerd, I'm really trying! I wish I just didn't look so...nervous. Am I too pink?"

The maid sighed to the lady that was wringing hands and patting her own cheeks in a gesture that certainly read as nervous. The maid shook her head, and shooed her charge, her responsibility since Aethelyn de Bress was but a babe of four. No mother, dead in childbirth, no father now, that the fevers had struck over the summer, it was a good thing her lady was wed, or it might have been the end of them all. Of course, the fact none of them had MET said husband more than in passing really, well, God willing, he'd be a good man.

"Lady Lynnie, hurry, please, no...no we cannot POSSIBLY change dresses AGAIN, my lady...no...argh....girl, you shall be the death of me! He'll be here any time! And you'll still be locked up here, changing dresses...."

They changed dresses, it was not everyday you met your husband, after all.

Married by proxy...she HAD seen his uncle, and it had been very odd, knelt at Holy Alter, with a man that was seventy summers if he were a day. Her betrothed, promised she was to him, since cradle, was in the Holy Land, fighting infidels on Holy Crusade...and if the letters were accurate, he had left Tyre in spring, and was sailing for home, come to take her hand as he properly ought. She had been wed to him one year, six months, nine days, and thirteen hours.

She had no clue who he was.

So that was reason to be nervous. There was also the difference in their ages. He had left for crusade 'pon her thirteenth birthday. They had wed on her eighteenth. Now, a nearly old woman of close to twenty summers, he was home, to claim his due. Her father, God rest him, had seen her wed to a knight close to twice her age, a man, he'd said, was sober, strong, and of good birth. Well, that was important, she knew. Raised all her life the only surviving child of a landed knight and lord, she knew the family name would vanish, her father had sired no lads, but at least the family would carry on through her...perhaps she might one day bear sons to a man of goodly breeding and appropriate status.

Today she would meet him.

They had exchanged a few letters, but with months travel yawned between them, she had not really counted on much. She had met him, several times, once, when she was three and he fifteen or so, he had come again at her tenth birthday. He had seemed ridiculously old then, and she'd watched him from behind her father's great chair in the hall, twisting her toes in her small shoes, and wondering what a husband was, anyway.

She still wasn't sure she knew the answer to that, nine years later, only that she HAD one and he'd taken the Cross and served our Lord in Cypress, Sicily, Tyre and beyond. And now..he was here to collect her and head to Cornwall, his homeland. Her father had married her to a Cornovii lord, and she must make it work, God willing, she'd do it.

[Rhys]

He stood at the railing of the ship, his hands white knuckled has he held on as if that was going to keep him anchored from this surreal dream he now found himself in. He had always known this day was coming. It had been something he had dreaded and dragged his heels on. She was a child. Was still a child in his thoughts.

He had been the youngest son of a minor noble man. And when that mad had died, it had mean that there were no lands or fortune for him to inherit, no titles above that which he could earned by and with his own hands. His mother had seen fit to foster him out to his Uncle. He'd had to work for everything he had, and work hard he did. It wasn't much, but it was his, and he hadn't minded it. No silver spoon in his mouth. He had done is duty to both his family and to God. Had made them proud or so he hoped.

And now it was time now for him to settle down and start a family of his own...God willing...the girl too.

He'd been fostered out to his Mothers brother, his uncle, a great knight if his day when he was but twelve. It was there that he began training as a knight. But it wasn't until he had gone over sea, that he had earned the right to be called such.

He watched as the shoreline grew every bigger, closer. What he was about to do becoming more real, more solid coming into focus. He could no longer ignore it. He was of a two mind on the topic. On one hand he wanted and was ready to settled down. He had see and done a lot over his almost forty seasons. A quieter life, raising fat babes, sons to carry on his name...

On the other, he thought of his wife to be. No not to be. She was. He'd married her, he remembered signing the papers when she had come of age and sending them back to his Uncle. She'd been a child on the verge of womanhood. A pretty thing if he recalled, shy... big round eyes that were the prettiest shade of brown, reminded him of cinnamon. But a child still. What could she possibly know of pleasing a man.

Moving away from the rail, as the ship came into port. His things were already packed, tied to his horse. He hand his men, a twenty of them in all would make this last leg of the journey with him. Horses were ready for them, his Uncle ever efficient even at his age had seen to everything. Always had.

Come on, lets get this over with...

There was no end to the razzing he was receiving. He was to be married, something that they had all knew was coming, and all knew that he wasn't exactly looking forward to. But he would not disgrace his Uncle. It was to be his price for all that his Uncle had done for him. Marriage, it could be worse.... He just hoped that she hadn't gone and got fat and ugly in his years away.

His hands rubbed over his own face, wondering what she would think. Not that it mattered, she was his, but he did wonder. He wasn't a callous or mean man, he'd prefer her to be happy. Less screeching that way or so he was told.

It was nearly midday by they time his party arrived onto de Bress lands. They had stopped about a mile back along the rivers edge where he had taken the time to bathe and shave. Luckily managed even to stay free of lice aboard the ship so that to was a plus, he didn't have to shave his head too, just his face. He didn't dally, didn't take the time to appreciate the shades of leaves in all their autumns splendor. Winter was coming and he wanted to collect his wife and be on his way to his own lands. A gift from his aging Uncle.

One wouldn't think that after all the battles he had fought this could make him nervous. It was just one woman. One that was practically a child still. No matter, long as she knew her place, run a good house, and proved to be fertile, they would get along just fine.

He gave a sharp whistle, and the men stopped and dismounted, he along with them. Tucking his gloves into his wide leather belt, a hand on the pummel of his sword, he waited for the door to be answered. Behind him, his men fanned out behind him. He looked a little pale, felt a little ill...

"Please God don't let her be a heifer" It was muttered softly under his breath, his mean snickered but as the door creaked open all fell silent and sober....Don't let that be her..please please please.....

M'lady, E's 'ere!

Thank you.....................

[Lady Aethelyn]

((Moo?))

He's here. He's here. Her heart sort of trilled in a sickening beat that was far up in her throat, no longer in her chest. In the upstairs window of the fortified house, she pressed her nose to the bubbly wobbly tiny glass panes, and peered out into the day, where twenty men rode through the gate.Oh, wait, no, make that twenty one men....sure were a lot of them, weren't there?

She couldn't swallow.

Which was he?

Her memory of him was acute, sharp, like a drawing etched in coal and cream, but it had been what? Six years? And yet she recalled his laugh, her father and he exchanging jokes. He had spoken to her too, in his oddly Cornwallian accent, so different than her own. But his Uncle had been some great friend of father's father or something like that. And so they were wed...

She waited until they began to dismount before leaving the window. One of his men had glanced up, and waved. She'd curled her fingers back, softly, childlike in reply, then hurried downstairs, dressed in red and gold, she'd been told he favored bold shades. Of course, it got no bolder than crimson, yes? She situated her jewelry, pieces from her dead mother and dead aunt, and hurried her steps, despite the need to go hide growing within her. This was her duty. Chin up, she felt fear tickle down her brow and spine, along her hands and tingle the soles of her feet.

The men shown in, they would arrive as she stepped down the wooden steps, and curtsy to the general horde of them.

Eyes downcast, she had a poem prepared for the greeting portion of this terrible and horrid day, however, her mind, drat it, went totally blank. Mid curtsy she stayed, head way down, thighs a'flame with the pressure, and nary a poem coming to mind. Must not cry. Mustn't! It sure smelled 'manly' in here, didn't it? Very...horsey and leathery and man like. She felt her nose crinkle as a threat of a sneeze arrived.

Ok! Must not sneeze either!

[Rhys]

The moment the door had opened his heart stopped into the pit of his stomach. The girl was approximately of the right age, but she had been .. well big. And he didn't just mean fat. She had to have been almost six feet, more maybe, hard to tell exactly as he was at the bottom of the steps and looking up. The woman had filled the entire frame.

The men all looked a little nervously, all except Bosworth he liked them a little butch. He looked at the lady, and that term was loosely applied..but he could see the value in such a woman as a ladies maid. A protector of sorts he would hazard a guess. He supposed he should be pleased, with a woman like that hovering over his wife other men would be wise to keep their distance.

He looked around to the men that made up this party. Most of them had been on crusades with him. Some had no families of their own and had pledged service to him. Others had family, houses that were aligned with his family and were here as witness. Needless to say after today there would be no questions or mistaking that they were married.

He felt his chest constrict and tighten with the anticipation. He wasn't really wanting to do this. It was only duty and honor to his Uncle that he was here. He had put of this moment for over two years. His Uncle had finally demanded that he return home, and in truth he grew weary over seas. He longed for the green of his homelands, the wet humid air opposed to the dry smothering heat.

He had a duty now of a different sort.

The rather large manly looking woman stepped out of the way, and introduced his wife. "Greetings M'Lords, my I present the Lady Aethelyn, your wife Sir." He had been looking anywhere and everywhere but at her, delaying the moment for as long as possible. Finally, unable to delay any longer, there had been a slightly long pause after she was introduced he drug his eyes up.

Red and gold. His favored colors, he noted that immediately. He made him smile, he didn't know if she had done it intentionally or not, but his colors looked good on her. Brought out the color of her eyes. He remembered those...they were the same. That was about all he could say was the same, she'd changed in six years. She was no longer a child on the verge of woman,....she was a woman. And she had filled out nicely.

Raising a hand to her, he beckoned her forward. "Come here lady wife, I would have a closer look at you." He watched her, his eyes watching her every movement. She wasn't going to be sick was she?

[Lady Aethelyn]

A closer look at her? What? Was he raving blind, then? She was not some pony, to be paraded was she? Apparently so. She rose with a smile a little too sweet and walked to him, stepping until she was but a foot from him and raising dark arched brows, as he looked presumably, his fill's worth. She did blink, soft black lashes feathering on pink cheeks that really were a tad bit too pink, result of a bad habit of hers...she liked out of doors, an unsavory amount, and windburn was her constant companion.

As was the dog that came padding in. Huge grey monster he outweighed her by a solid stone, his back and her waist of equal height. Her hand reached and found rumpled grey fur on the wolfhound, and he leaned into her thigh, warm and solid, her boon friend. The lean was enough to rock her on the balls of her feet.

"Say hello to our lord, my husband, Sir Rhys of someplace, Cornwall. My lord, greetings from my dog...Melvin of de Bress."

She smiled, flat and cheeky, all at once.

"I am Aethelyn Mathilde, and I welcome you to de Bress, and would offer you and...." she peeked around his well clad shoulder to the men crowding her home...her *former* home..."and yours...some wine, if it doth please the lords to have it?" Why had he brought so many? She'd never seen such a hird as this, so many men, did he then, command such as this? He must have done well in the Holy Land, to have such coin. It rattled about in her hyper mind...and she forced a smile. She knew nothing about men and swords...the house here at de Bress had men, yes, but Old Peter and Young Mathis were it, and one had a lisp, and the other no teeth...and despite the old and young bit, neither were a day under a hundred, she was sure. Ok, well, maybe not that old, but old. These were all young bucks, and not a grey hair among them.

She stepped back, assuming he'd seen her now. She had, however, NOT looked anywhere north of his shoulder. She was not that...brazen.

She was also worried they had not twenty one mugs for serving so many guests, and waved the two maids to go....figure something out!

"My last letter from your uncle was answered. I do not know if you heard, my cousin, Bevin of de Grase will be here in one weeks time to take the property here...." That...THAT...was bitter...but she was wed off to an outlander, and she was not a male, and the cousin got the house. "I have most things packed however, for the journey to your land. I confess I have never traveled far...or by boat..we do travel by boat?"

And she was talking too much!

She swallowed as she rubbed and scratched her throat, nerves growing in her fear. Look at his shoes. That is better. Boots. Right. Men wear boots. Look at those, and nod, and you'll be fine. Pretend to be....whatever you aren't, and he'll ignore you. Or not. He was still standing there.....hm. She'd curtsied. She'd welcomed the horde. Introduced the dog. Oh! Right. She was a wife. And so too well bred to show affection in public, she did take liberty and quickly shut her eyes, kiss his cheek, and then step back, the feel of whiskered skin strange against her lips.

"Forgive. I forgot to welcome you properly home from the crusade."

[Rhys]

He could see her just fine, what he wanted to see, to know was what sort of shape her spine was in. He had no want or use for a wife that was going to cower before him like some beaten limp noodle. He had seen and done for to much in his life, to say that he was a soft man. He wasn't mean, but he wasn't the sort to coddle either.

A small test, one that she could not really either pass or fail, it simply gave him an idea of what sort of woman he had been married off to. Would she be the sort to huddle in a corner if they had a disagreement as he'd seen his own mother do, or if she would be tossing pots at his head as his Aunt had been known to do.


Personally he hoped to meet somewhere in the middle. One that had a head on her shoulders, and could use reason and logic to sort out an issue. Temper was all well and good, but it had its place.

She came to him. Albeit a little hesitantly, but she came. Stood before him with her back and shoulder straight and proud and yet she kept her eyes averted. Still it afforded him a good look at her. A pretty heart shaped face that. One look at her told him that she wasn't the sort to hide under pretty parasol. She liked the outdoors...he seemed to remember she liked to ride. Was forever outside getting into some sort of trouble, climbing...and falling out of trees. He'd rescued her once from just a fate on the last time he'd seen her. Just weeks before he'd gone off to crusade.

A woman. He had to keep telling himself that. She wasn't a child anymore. Not nearly, but she was young. Shy or coy he wasn't sure....he was a little jaded.

A great beast padded in, more horse than dog, but it seemed tame enough. It did no more than sniff at those closest to his Mistress before leaning up against her for some scratches and lovings. He watched, how her fingers as they stroked the soft grey fur, but her voice held strong. He liked that, she had some mettle to her.

Well meet M'lady Aethelyn. And its Carwin. Lord Carwin, Rhys ap Gruffudd at your service.

There were simply to many of them crowded into this small little home. He gave a casual wave of his hand. A command softly spoken for half of them to leave, see to the horses, and be ready for travel within the hour. They wouldn't be staying here. He had every intention of leaving tonight, he wanted them home, as soon as possible. Wanted to have time to settle in before winter did.

As she spoke of her cousin, he noted the bitterness in her voice, sadness to. He could sympathize with her some. He knew leaving your home was hard, he could hardly begrudge her feelings. He did begrudge however her stepping away from him, his hand lifted to her chin, cradled it gently.

"No matter Lady Wife, we will be well away from here by then. I hope you did not wish to greet you cousin, but we are to be away to Carwin today. So I am glad to hear your are packed and are ready. Are you sorry to see this place go? Or are you the adventurous sort?"

He had a feeling she might be. Wind blown cheeks told him she wasn't content to sit around knitting and sipping tea her days away. She stepped back to him, and kissed him lightly on his cheek. Her lips feather soft, and her scent of something soft, lavender maybe? It floated around her sweetly.. He caught her before she could step back again, his hand sliding behind her neck, his thumb against her jaw.

"A fine welcome home for a knight. Now how about one for a husband?'

His made her look into his eyes, they held her a moment with their intensity before he took her mouth in a gentle kiss, all to aware they had eyes on them. He lingered there a moment, a slow smile forming.

"There, no I have kissed my bride. Its official."

[Lady Aethelyn]

Officially uncool!

She felt her cheeks ramp from windblown pink to full on deep cherry red as he took a kiss, with no by your leave or anything. It was not that she had not *cough* kissed boys before. But he was not asking, softly, and with gifts, as the village lads had done. She maybe knew it was wrong of them, but it had only been a few innocent and chaste kisses, naughty to do, but in the grand scheme, hardly measuring high on the curve of evil. This however....for one, he wasn't shy, it seemed, and he was large, not overweight, no, but he was taller, broad, full grown. She liked that. Anna Wimpil had been married off last spring to a lad five years her junior. Aethelyn often watched then, at Matins, wondering how it felt to be married to so skinny a husband.

She wondered if Sir Somewhere, Cornwall, felt that about her. Was she too skinny?

And because he had kissed her in front of his men, there was a small bit of whistling and clapping. She wrinkled her nose. They'd only kissed! You'd think he'd evenhandedly wrestled a steer to the ground or something. She was not a tiny woman no, but she'd not put up a fight. No need to cheer him like he was accomplishing some fearsome feat of legend. And as they ribbed him, there was some fair bit of grinning and talking going on, she took the chance to curtsy and skedaddle, leaving the maids to make her excuses. Leaving in an hour.

Her jaw had nearly gone unhinged at THAT.

An hour!

She had packed some, much, yes, but...an hour! She was pretty certain he was not going to get his wish, in that. Hands fluttered as she hurried to her room, stuffing the remaining belongings there into her trunks. She was not too hasty though. She had six...six!....wonderful gowns. This was a lot. This was only having to wear one a few times a week. Three were for warm months, two for cold, and one for travel. She liked the travel one best, and one of the summer ones least..for it was her preserving and weeding outfit, a little worn and plain, shades of green and brown. But it had a lovely petticoat that swished and was trimmed in matching green and tan braid.

For today she stayed in the red travel dress, made just for this, for the meeting of her spouse. It had taken two years, working in her free hours with her maid servant, to get it done. She changed her kid leather shoes for more sturdy brown boots, riding took more than delicate slippers were game for. She smoothed her hair, then braided it, and set it in two buns, coiled, the shade a mix of black and brown, heavy. Her room gutted of what she could...linens and candles, clothes and personal effects, she hurried to the cellar. That had been a bitter thing, she recalled as her eyes scanned all the foodstuffs here and put up for winter keeping. She had known this year, not the next, her lord husband was going to come. His uncle had assured her of that in a missive. So all the food put up was going to go to her smarmy cousin.

She glared at all the crocks, lined neatly, and the bags of grain, set nicely. A fat bucket sat at her feet, lidded. It contained the year's honey.

She had worked hard for this all. Hams hung in the rafters, salted and spice brine soaked, preserved for the long dark months ahead, here in West Devon. Idea. She didn't have to leave it all. No, it could be part of her dowry? Yes. Yes. That sounded good. He was coming home from the crusades, no need to go to his farm, and eat hot gruel all winter, not when she had bounty here. It was with a few unladylike gestures and commands that she had the servants, all three of them, tugging the mule out of the barn, and hitching him to the rattle prone cart. She couldn't carry everything, but she could deny her cousin unfair windfall.

Wheat in bags was lined over the cart's bottom. Over that, she placed linen wrapped and salty hams, and over that, she laid sacks of apples, very carefully, they'd bruise on the trip, but no matter, instead of eating them, she'd press them for cider when they arrived in Carwin. Pretty pleased with her logic, she had the honey bucket and the crocks of preserved onions and the crocks of apple butter brought out, their wax seals so smooth under her touch. She lovingly packed each, and on top of all that went the bags of beans, dried and stored with painstaking care last summer. A wheel of cheese was added, and then strings of garlic and onions, on fat braids. A few of his men were watching this, and seeing her task, started to help. One graciously took wrapped slices of dried meat and put it in several of their saddlebags. Another did the same with the week's butter and another with several crocks of jam.

In the mood to show her husband's men she could be gracious, she had the rum cake, the one studded with dry fruit, cut into large wedge like slices, and passed them out to eager hands and happy mouths. She introduced herself to each one, learning names as she fed her helpful hird.

There was Milford and Barton, Brenner and Bagly, Mark and Thomas the Young, and Terrence, which seemed a rather dashing name to match his roguish grin and Frankish accent. There was a man they simply called The Bowyer, and another called The Kid, who looked fifty at least. That was confusing. But she saw each fed with cake, wrapping the last two slices for she and her husband.

~~~

They set off at midday, not exactly when he'd wanted, an hour late, but she had been loathe to leave the dried fruit behind, so it had been doled out, along with another bit of cheese, in sacks for the men to loop over their saddles. She rode as well, her father's horse, a tall strong black palfrey with a spirited step and good wit's about him. Side saddle, her red skirts and matching cloak standing out against the subdued brown of autumn's fading grass, she fell into thought. Was he a nice man, then? None of his fellows seemed afraid. Some men....some men in life, she knew had a date to hang, they simply looked mean and coarse. Rhys ap Gryffudd did not. Reese ap Griffith. She said his name in her head. A nice name, for a man that seemed to laugh not often, but smiled with genuine quickness. A white flash of a smile, it contrasted sharply with his dark curls and deeply tanned skin.

He was, she'd concede, a handsome man, if a little bit....hmm, what was the word? Hawkish. He was watchful. Many times already she'd felt the heat of his stare, and it made her feel guilty....as if he just knew that once, twice...ahem....years ago, she let two village boys kiss her. Admittedly one had missed and got her chin, but still! She frowned and did a small nod his way. It was uncomfortable, the heinousness of her crime....unfaithful!...making her heart race. Stupid village boys and kissing. She said her sorries in her own mind, and hurried along, urging Sprite her horse, into a canter. Enough thinking on old crimes!

The day was heavy, the sky bruised and leaden with impending rain.

They camped that night with men, husband, and she in a cave along the edge of a coastal woodland, as the storm raged and thudded. This was further west than she'd ever been.

Sometime during the day, in the drippy coolness, they crossed over from Devon to Cornwall, and slowly the landscape changed, each mile bringing them closer to her new home. Home. She missed her old home. It was all she'd ever known, outside the few short trips her father took her on to visit grandparents or cousins. This was, to her, then, exotic and far flung, going into wild and craggy Cornwall. Gulls screamed from skies of clouds and wind, and to their right, surf erupted a thousand times that day on rocks and boomed against the salt crusted cliffs. She drank it in.

Less woodsy than Devon, it was a land of harsh beauty, and she was already enjoying it. Wind bracingly cool, sun, that filtered down in shafts of white light, mice that scurried in tall grasses and terns and eagles that hunted and dove, flew and drifted. How amazing it must be, to drift in the wind, so high no one could ever catch you.

Speaking of caught...

She looked again at her lord husband.

One kiss. He'd taken no more than that. But........she was no fool. The marriage contract did not get signed in kisses. She shifted nervously, stomach suddenly queasy.......She would manage. She did not want to be a nun, and besides, that ought to be a joyful exuberant choice, to be a nun. Not a last ditch effort to avoid obligations as laid out by her late father. So...she'd endure. Some women, it said, did even find marriage to their liking. She wasn't counting on it, but...oh, perhaps a little cool indifference would settle upon them, and they'd be...content? Better that than dislike...and contention.

Was it sad that the idea of happiness failed to even come up in her mind?

Or was that just all she knew, to not be too hopeful, for hope is a fragile thing that can cause much pain.

The day wore on and nightfall brought with it another camp site, in fields of tufted heather.

She was so tired from her journey, she never noticed she never ate dinner.

[Dream Loxley]

ooc: Such delightful writing and a wonderful read! Well done both of you.

[Lady Aethelyn]

ooc: Many thanks, cannot wait to meet everyone in this home icly!

[Rhys]

Apple.

That's what she tasted like. Sweet with just a hint of tartness to her. It made him crave more, desperately wanting to sweep his tongue inside her mouth just to be sure. Such a sweet thing she was. Small, delicate...and wearing red it all sort of fitting.

All in all it was a chaste kiss as far as kisses went. Lips pressed and held, cupping the back of her neck gently in case she tried to escape to soon. He held her there with just the gentlest pressures, but had been pleased that she had jerked away. His tongue had teased her, just a little a flicker in question, but her lips had stayed pressed into a firm line which had amused him some.

Slowly he pulled back from her her, eyes watching her carefully. A slow predatory grin spread over his features as he watched her color bloomed across her cheeks. His hand on her neck felt the rapid tattoo of her pulse, and that future pleased him. She had fire inside of her, that he didn't think would take much to ignite. He had no use nor want for a cold dead fish in his bed.

Cold and cruel of him? Perhaps. But he was a man full grown, not some boy fresh from the farm field boy. He'd had seen war, cruelty and death in a wide variety of ways...he wanted someone that he could talk to, hold, share his life with now.... So maybe not so cold and cruel of him after all?

The sounds of whistling and good natured ribbing..insults and comments, along with helpful 'advice' being shouted out did he realize that he was still standing there holding her. Slowly his hand dropped and she took advantage in backing away. A sharp look, and sharper command had the men laughing, but quieting nonetheless as the moved off to help prepare the lady for her new home. He himself lingered a moment, watching as she rushed off with out so much as a 'by you leave'.

A wagon had been pulled out of the barn, and he'd hitched the team of horses to it himself. He left it to the others to see that her trunks were loaded while he took the opportunity to see to their mounts. Fresh water, barely and oats snacks of apple... He raided the barn, found some tack, a couple of saddles....and the horses to go with them. What was hers, was his now, ying and yang...a pair of of coursers, one black one white would make a lovely addition to his stables.

He just came out of the barn to tie their leads on to the back of the wagon when she came out with her arms full of crockery, to which is men hurried to help. He gave a rueful shake of his head. She was going to have the lot of them wrapped around her finger......he had a feeling...but after tasting her rum cake, hell, he couldn't maybe blame them. He'd not tasted anything that good since ...well, he couldn't recall. He'd lived of hard tack and salt pork for so long he had nearly forgotten what actually food tasted like.

For that reason, he'd not minded....as much, the delay in leaving. He could, as well as his belly, appreciate her efforts. For he had to admit, he had no idea what shape Carwin was in. He'd come for her first, even before even seeing the shape of his own home.

Home...the thought of it lifted him. He'd not had a true home almost a decade. He watched her through out their trip. And often. She rode well, an air of confidence about her. A woman that knew how to sit a horse, to ride...and not to complain. All things he valued and could appreciate.

A few days journey. It had been good in a lot of ways, it gave him time to observe his new wife. A change to get to know her some, though it was hard with so many eyes on them. And that was a lie, he couldn't care less..he did however give her some space, was trying to let her get accustomed to him...and keeping his distance cause he didn't quiet trust himself around her. It had been some time since he'd last been with a woman, and she deserved more than a roll on the heather (not that it wouldn't be fun) but as a new bride he wanted to give her more than that.

He'd noticed she hadn't eaten the night before. He noticed everything about her. She'd pitched in getting the supper ready for he and his men, and then sat down near the fire, presumably to rest a moment before its heat...and had fallen asleep with in moments. He'd watched her for a while, thinking she'd wake. When she didn't he carried her to his bed roll, ignored the highly perverted comments and tucked her in against the heat of his body.

The morning dawned, a bright and beautiful red stroked with hues of purple and gold....he...was in a foul mood, sleep, had not come easy for him. Every time she had moved. The moment he sensed she was awake, and no longer needed his body heat, he rolled away from her and stalked off, muttering to get herself ready. They'd be at their new home by midday.

He felt it only proper that she ride with him that morning, although he wasn't at his most charming. He hadn't asked if she would, or wanted to ride with him..no,no, he'd simply scooped her up and placed her on the saddle before him, wrapped an iron like arm around her waist and tapped his heels to set their mount in motion.

He couldn't tell you a damn thing they passed for the next two hours, but he could tell you how many times she squirmed against him, bumped his chest, or chin, a hand brushed his thigh, or how many little soft sighs he heard...the torture/ride...finally stopped as they broke through and into a clearing. Across the meadow was a river and over, that was their home. A walled fortress really. Its white wall of stones spread like wings in the center of it said a enormous draw bridge..it was lowered at the moment as they were expected, Terrance and The Kid had ridden ahead to warn them all the new Master and Mistress were coming. Fires were lit, food was readied, tea made and nerves were equally distributed.

As the hooves of his horse clattered of the wooden planks, and the House ap Gryffudd, was suddenly in view. Like the walls, the manor was made of the same white stone. It sat impressive and sprawled out. It was no simple farm house, but the house of a Lord. His arm tightened against her slim hips and pulled her a little closer, his mouth against her ear.

Welcome home Lady Carwin. I hope you like what you see....

[Lady Aethelyn]

She did not know he'd slept near her, and was certainly ignorant of his thoughts, the powers to know the man, or read his looks with any degree of success? Not hers to claim. Not yet. She was sure, in time, he'd become less enigmatic, but for now she read his mood as surly, but blamed it on the damp air, and hard travel and a sore rump.

Hers was sore, that was for certain.

An avid rider, she was still avid only in short bursts. Riding to and from the township, or across some fields, had not geared her soft body for what it meant to be saddle bound for days on end, and add to it, sleeping in bed rolls on the ground.........no matter that they were thick, and furs covered with woolen blankets and luxurious by the standards of most a weary travel, for to whom a ditch, or a dry shed was sufficient........she was sore.

She squirmed not to entice, hardly that, for she did not know what it was to seduce another, but because she hurt in place that hitherto she had not known she possessed. Aching and muscles cramping, she longed for nothing so much as a bath, three goblets of wine, and her own sweet bed, scented of meadow grass, padded with feathers, and buoyed by tight rope. Oh, she was nearly daydreaming of that, yet as much as she wanted it, it did feel nice, to have tired form cushioned by a larger one. He was warm, the day grey and heavy in the morning, and heavy clouds rolling in mid day. She did not fight his touch, riding with him proved to be an excuse to lean back, head under his chin, to cat nap, safe in husbandly arms.

They arrived at Carwin, as she was waking. A farmstead, fit for a landed knight, it was perched on the swell of a tall hill, to her left the beach could be seen in the distance. Inland from that, as Carwin was, sat a castle, and a township, all glimmering in the soft gentle rain that had begun to mist and spit. Sun shown through though, in beams of gold, and she took it as a good sign. The castle she knew must be that of Windstorm's capitol, which was good. It'd mean she could walk there, the house at Carwin nestled on the edge of the property, in sight distance to Windstorm.

Carwin House itself was perched on a little river, she knew not the name, that rambled across the property. Only twenty feet wide, it was more or less a fat creek, but it was pretty, and trilled nicely, over rocks. She leaned a bit to catch a glimpse as they rode over the drawbridge that held the house snug...

"Why, it laughs! The brook, it's a happy brook!"

She exclaimed to herself, grinning that she should be the lady of such a sweet and darling brook....that maybe they'd be friends, and she'd wade in it's icy waters in summertime....

The drawbridge was a yawning mouth, and once over and through, they were in a courtyard. This, no castle, was a manor house, built with an eye to fortification and defense. Quite sizable, it was three and even four stories in places, with walls a meter and more thick. It meant inside there would be many windows seats, nice for reading, and for cats, and for sewing on, in the last light of evening. Slate roof, which she was happy for, so much nicer than thatch, which must be replaced and moldered so much, and leaked far more. Melvin the dog, hot on their heels, woofed his welcome to the other hounds, and there was much tail wagging and greeting among the canine set.

There were barns and a coop, and walls quite thick girding the property, and from inside came a staff of four to greet.

Dark cinnamon eyes touched with the faintest kiss of green roamed it all, before answering her husband.

"I think I'm in love."

[Rhys]

If she squirmed anymore he wasn't going to be responsible for his actions. It was everything he could do to keep his hand resting across her hip to keep her from falling as she had slept before him. He'd known the moment instantly that she had started to feel comfortable with him. Her back slowly, in degrees of pressure leaned back against him and relaxed. Soft hair tickled his chin, and caught in the stubble, it smelled faintly of roses.

Was he sore....well there were definitely parts of him that were hurting, but it had nothing to do with the saddle he was sitting, and everything to do with what was in the saddle before him. So soft .... delicate. That's how she looked, but over the last few days she had impressed him. She'd not whined once, hadn't complained that the pace they set was to hard to fast. Each stop, she helped prepare food even though he could see how stiff and sore she was.

He was impressed, and pleased with her. He'd been worried about her being so young, that she would be the sort to have fits and tantrum and expected to be catered and pandered to. He wanted a partner in his life, one to give him children...not to act like one.

His home, their home, opened up before them and he couldn't stop his own smile. He'd not been here in almost a decade, but in all honestly it already felt like home. Growing up it had been his favorite place, some of his best memories were here in this house. His Uncle had known that, and why he'd been allowed to purchase it....for nothing of value was ever free or so his Uncle always said. His Uncle himself had moved up the coast, had another place there that he favored, but he suspected it was more his Aunt favored... that is why he and his Uncle had spent most of their summers here in Carwin..away from her...hunting trips.

Drawing to a stop in the small court yard, he slid from his mount and looked around with some satisfaction. They manor house was no palace, but he no use for such. He was a simple knight, one that had paid his dues and earned his this place to call his own. He followed her gaze up the hill. Over colorful tree tops he could see the turrets of Castle Windstorm. It reminded him that soon as they were settled they would need to venture toward it. He'd not met the current Queen or Windstorm, Edfiel he was told..he'd been to the castle before as a boy, his memories of it vague, but his Uncle had always spoke fondly Windstorm and its ruler, had been loyal, still was...

Her voice, the pleasure of it had him turning and looking up at her. Her face flushed from the days sun and wind, and more. Strong hands reached up and caught her around the waist as he lifted her down, brought her down against his body, held her both a little to close and a little longer than was strictly necessary. He held her trapped for a moment between horse and man..

Is that a fact M'lady?

I am glad that your new home pleases you. Would you like to see more of it?

A dark dangerous smile pulled across hawkish features, as he at least stepped back, but did not let go. His hand sought out and found her hand...smaller, more delicate maybe, but not the smooth hands of someone pampered. He found that slightly rough texture to his liking. A soft tug, and he was leading her forward, a sharp whistle and people were dismounting and went about the business of settling the new Lord and Lady Carwin into their new home.

As for them, he lead her across the small courtyard to were an open door with a distinguished looking man held the door open for them. He didn't know her well, hardly more than her name and a few fleeting memories of her as a child..still, she was his wife now, and he wanted things to work. Not overly superstitious, he say no reason not to take precautions. ..He picked her up and carried her over the threshold of the new home.

[Lady Aethelyn]

"Ack!" she blinked and instinctively held on for dear life as he unexpectedly scooped her up. She had had half a second's hesitation, the need to smack or shove, push or pummel him back, but that...wouldn't do. He had a right to hoist her (gently) about, she supposed. And he was careful, as he took her from the cool damp to the candlelit entry. A fire blazed in a great hearth, large enough for her to have stood inside of it's sheltered blackened space, had she so wished for it.

It cast the room in cheery shadows. There were no windows here, nor on much of the ground floor, a precaution against theft and harm. This floor was devoted to storage, which was handy. A buttery, a large series of pantries for winter's storage, another room chock full of split and seasoned, dried, wood. There was a room of wool as well, and several other rooms, that they passed, but she couldn't see in them. Set down, she did manage a smile, small and unsure, and a whispered thank you, but it was barely there, hardly audible.

Steps of large dark timbers loomed before her, and railings equal in size, artful and carved. They climbed the stairs, wide enough for them to walk side by side, comfortably, to the second floor, and there the house really opened up. Windows with tiny glass panes let in watery light, and a large fireplace up here warmed the space. Herbs hung in the alcoves and on the ceiling beams. A large table filled the space and cooking wear sat heath side. There was a cupboard for breads and pies, and a ham and cheese safe, near it. Bowls of sizes large to small, and pie pans, sat stacked on a baking table to the side, and fat bins for salt, flour, grain and oats were under it.

All in all, this was a cheerful and inviting home, it had no grand parlours, it was a working estate, a place where reality was embraced.

She adored it.

Her eyes scanned the large central room, imagining evenings at the fire side, and baking in the morning, with the sun, and sea and Castle Windstorm in view through the windows....she turned in a slow circle, judging, measuring, tired, hyper on all the newness. She felt wan and washed out, surely dirty....she would kill a boar bare handed for a bath and fresh attire. But thanks was in order.

"I think it amazing."

And it was. Twice the size of the home on the de Bress lands. No wonder he'd cared naught for the loss of the cottage there. She had worried he'd be wroth, but seeing Carwin, she understood now, why he didn't care for the cottage. This was dry and tall, light filled...and she felt silly...."Guess I didn't really need to bring all the food, that I hauled along with, did I? Oh well. We'll...eat all the better for it?"

[Rhys]

He was constantly tested her in small ways. He wanted to know about the sort of woman she had become. He remembered her but as a child, he may not have seemed to pay much attention to her, a kid, but he had. Like her, he had been told from an early age that she was to be his wife, therefor he had a vested interest in her. The youngest son of a minor nobleman what he had, wasn't what was given to him for the most part..he had to earn.

She didn't struggle or scream, though he'd felt her tense, seen a moment of panic in her eyes. Obviously wasn't used to being man-handled. Good. She didn't shrink from his touch either. That was good too.

This marriage was the one thing his Uncle had arranged to make sure that no matter what he'd have something when he was ready to settled down. The manor house, while he'd technically bought it. It had been bought well below its worth. Not that he didn't have money, he did done well in some tournaments before he'd left, he'd set that money aside. And then the Crusades..he'd been paid well for his services, but it was nice that someone recognized and appreciated his efforts.

It was a nice sized room, slightly smoke filled, but more than enough light to see her features. He watched her, he found himself doing that a lot with her. Reading, gaging her .... He didn't look anywhere else but her. He knew this house, in the last decade it hadn't changed much. Even old Hodge that had greetings them at the door was the same.

A simple place by and large, it wasn't grand on the scale of a castle, but it was solid,it was steady, would and could stand against whatever life brought to it. It was him.

So with a gentle hand on her back he guided her on a tour. The design of the house was shaped like an L, they walked from one floor to the next, their feet companionably clicking in rhythm beside one another. At her comment over her good, he going only snort good nurtured, and pulled her to a stop.

Have you seen the way the men eat? They like starved dogs the lot of them. Trust me lady Wife, the food will not go to waste. And..on the off change there is to much, how would you feel about a donation to charity?

A thought, one they would ponder a little later they continued their tour, there wasn't much left...just their bed rooms. Plural. They adjoined one anothers. He opened the door to his first, the colors here a deep crimson red spread out over the four posted bed, big imposing side tables and dressers made of of sturdy oak completed the room...he tried not to linger his gaze on the bed for long. There was time enough for that, he hurried in to show her, her room...it was similar to his, but with more muttered colors, and fresh flowers spread out to look welcoming.

I really do hope that you will be happy here Aethelyn. Its...been some time since I have seen you last. Have dinner with me, I'd like to get to know my wife.

Not a request, but a gently said and will a charming smile.

[Lady Aethelyn]

The main room, bedrooms, storage areas all sort of glanced at, she had been left wondering if there were a loom here, a room for weaving, so as not to clatter and dust up the place. She wondered too about livestock, for there was a large barn or two attached to the courtyard and dwelling chambers.

She did not think it wise to pry, however. Best take things one step at a time, and let things unfold as they would. Upon seeing her own chambers, the door between them hardly subtle, she had fallen into her own thoughts, twitchy and wary. Join him for dinner?

Her eyes dared a glance to the wind worn and rugged face before her, and biting her lower lip between her teeth, she nodded.

Small steps carried her into her room, and she answered verbally.

"As it pleases, my lord."

Shut.

...went the door.

And promptly reopened. She blushed. "Might I have my maid sent? And bath water? I would wash the grime of travel off, please and thank you."

Shut.

...went the door.

Annnnnnnnnd opened again. "Oh. And my trunks? Thank you. Very much."

Shut.

...went the door.

It stayed shut this time. She inside the room sank to the bed, and laid down, just for a moment, and was out, like a babe, sound asleep. Her maid found her thirty minutes later, asleep half sat up, leaning on the pillows. It was a sleepy 'lady' of the house that bathed in half warmed water, her hair sudsed and cream rinsed, followed by an infusion of rosemary. She climbed out of the small bath, and dried by her fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, as the maid combed Aethelyn's long dark hair. It dried slowly, but she wrapped the damp strands in a coronet of braids, and donned a heather and dark green dress, and with boots firmly laced and cloak on, she went on an exploration of her new home.

She had much to see, and two hours till dinner time, so, curiosity? Must be embraced.