Rhiannon Read Free Page A

welcome it.”
    “My father would not object, my lord,” Simon said eagerly.
“He loves you well and would be glad of another bond with your house. My
mother, I think, would welcome any marriage I was willing to make and—” his
eyes wandered to Rhiannon again, “and she would understand Lady Rhiannon better
than most other women. She is old now, but her spirit is still strong.”
    Llewelyn smiled reminiscently. He knew Alinor well. “That is
true, but I fear they will never meet despite the ease with which we seem to
have decided this matter. I do not believe you will ever get Rhiannon so far
from her hills. You may try for her with my blessing, but remember I have no
power to give you more. Rhiannon is a law unto herself. I fear you will have
only grief from her.”
    Simon had not believed him, nor had he noticed the sly
glance that touched him and moved away. It would serve his purposes very well,
Llewelyn thought, if Simon married Rhiannon; he should have thought of it himself,
but at least he had applied the right spurs now that his brain had been jogged.
He watched with mild amusement the confident carriage as Simon crossed the
hall. This would be a struggle worth witnessing.
    There was no reason for Simon to lack confidence. No woman
except those whose hearts were already given had ever refused him. When he
approached Rhiannon he was more concerned that he would be disappointed by her
on closer acquaintance than that she would not welcome his attentions. At
first, indeed, it seemed as if he would succeed with her as easily as he
expected. When he came near, Gruffydd looked up from his half sister’s face and
said rather nastily, “Here is our tame Saeson.”
    It was a remark calculated to raise animosity in both Simon
and any full-blooded Welshwoman, but Rhiannon knew her half brother and turned
to look at Simon without apparent reluctance. A slow, appreciative smile dawned
on her face.
    “Heavens, how beautiful you are,” she said. “A veritable
work of Danu.”
    “I might say that as well for you, Lady Rhiannon,” Simon
rejoined, but his voice did not hold the light laughter with which he usually
addressed and flattered women.
    Close up she was even more impressive, although actually
less lovely. Her nose was a trifle too long, her mouth too full and wide for
absolute beauty; however, it was not possible for Simon to think of such
things. Her eyes did not drop as a modest maiden’s should; they seized him and
held him boldly. They were large, almond shaped, tipped upward at the outer corners,
and of a clear green—a color Simon had never seen except on a cat. More
intriguing still, she examined him with the frank, slightly contemptuous
appraisal that a feline bestows upon humans. No blush mantled her cheeks,
although her skin, denied the sun that tanned it in milder weather, was white
as snow.
    “Oh, you might say that and any number of other pretty
things, I should think,” she answered, laughing. “I imagine you are a great
master at saying sweet things to women.”
    “I tell them what they wish to hear,” Simon said, stung by
her amusement. “What do you wish to hear? That your singing still sounds within
me? That the bright glance of your eyes has blinded me to all other beauty? I
will say it, and it is true. I am no liar—even to women.”
    “How can you tell a woman what she wishes to hear and yet be
no liar?” Rhiannon asked. There was no sneer in her voice. She sounded
genuinely interested in the solution to such a paradox.
    “Deep within, each woman knows her own beauty. There is
always something lovely in a woman, unless her soul is corroded beyond hope
with evil. The ugliest may have a sweet smile or a soft skin or a warm,
gracious voice. Women are not fools. They may seem to desire and to accept
untrue flattery, but if you praise what is truly beautiful in them, you will
strike them to the heart.”
    The laughter vanished from Rhiannon’s face and the contempt
from her eyes. She