Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [175]
“I’ve just spoken with Cullyn. I made him the captain of my warband.”
“Did you do it for his sake or to keep me here?”
“For his sake.”
“Then I thank you from the bottom of my heart, my lord.”
“It hurts to hear you call me my lord.” Rhodry looked down and scuffed at the floor with the toe of his boot. “But I’m mindful of our bargain, one night and no more.”
“Well and good, then.”
Yet when they looked at each other, all she wanted was to throw her arms around him and kiss him, no matter who might see.
“Mother’s going to offer you a place in her retinue,” Rhodry said at last. “Cursed if I’d have you waiting on table or chopping turnips out in the kitchen.”
“Would you offer me a place in your warband?”
“Do you want one? I will.”
“I don’t. I just wanted to see what you’d say.”
“I’d give you anything you wanted, if only I could. Ah, Jill, I’d marry you if they’d let me. I mean that. It’s not just some weaseling words from a dishonorable man.”
“I know. And I’d marry you if I could.”
Rhodry’s eyes filled with tears. He’s like an elf indeed, Jill thought, but she felt like weeping herself. Irritably he rubbed his eyes on his shirt sleeve and looked away.
“Ah, ye gods, I respect your father so much! I think that hurts worst of all.”
Rhodry strode off, slamming out the door of the hall. For a moment Jill thought of riding off alone as a silver dagger herself, but rationally she knew that she had to take Lovyan’s offer. The long road had come to an end, here in Dun Gwerbyn, where she would live close to Rhodry—but far, far away. All at once, she wanted to be with her father. She refilled the tankard, then took it upstairs. When she came in, he was lying on his bed, and something about his eyes told her that he’d been weeping. She assumed he was touched by the honor just paid him.
“Is that ale for your old father?” Cullyn sat up and arranged a smile. “My thanks.”
“Lord Rhodry told me how he honored you.” Jill handed him the tankard. “It’s so splendid. It’s about time someone recognized what kind of a man you are.”
Cullyn winced.
“Does that wound ache?”
“A bit. The ale will help.”
Jill perched on the end of the bed and watched him drink. She felt that she’d never loved him more, her wonderful father, who had his pride back to match his glory.
Later in the afternoon, Lovyan summoned Jill to the women’s hall. The second floor of one of the secondary brochs, it was more a large suite than a hall, a sign that the tieryns of Dun Gwerbyn could support their womenfolk in luxury. There were separate bedchambers for Lovyan’s serving women, and a large half-round of a room with Bardek carpets, little tables, and carved and cushioned chairs in profusion. Lovyan greeted her warmly and led her to a chair, while Medylla offered her a plate of honeyed apricots and Dannyan poured her a goblet of pale Bardek wine.
“I must say I never thought I’d have to thank a lass for saving my son’s life,” Lovyan said. “But I do thank you, and from the bottom of my heart.”
“Her Grace is more than welcome, and truly, you’ve offered me more repayment than I deserve.”
“Nonsense. You have much to learn about life in a court, of course, but I’m sure you’ll do splendidly. The first thing we have to do is sew you some proper dresses.”
Jill’s dismay must have shown on her face, because the three of them laughed gently at her.
“Oh, come now,” Dannyan said. “You can’t go around dressed like a lad.”
“Besides,” Medylla broke in. “You’re so pretty, child. Once your hair grows, and we’ve gotten you all turned out, why, you’ll have lads clustering around you like bees round a rose bush.”
Jill stared blankly at her.
“Child?” Lovyan said. “Is somewhat wrong?”
“Well, Your Grace, I mean no disrespect, but don’t you all remember that I’ve killed two men?”
They went as still as if they’d been turned to stone by dweomer. Only then did Jill