“Good eve, my lords,” Gareth interrupted Tanon’s thoughts, while Hereward dragged out a chair opposite Rebecca’s. “Ladies,” the prince added, his voice velvet as he looked at Tanon.
The way he stared was bold considering who was sitting at the table. But, Tanon reasoned, he’d already taken a liberty with her in the hall. She belonged to him, and he made no attempt to hide that fact. Still, she glanced at her father from beneath her lashes just to make certain he wasn’t about to slay Gareth with his sword.
“Your Highness, welcome to the table.” Brand offered him a pleasant, though somewhat stiff, smile. After introducing everyone, including Tanon’s siblings, Brand leaned back in his chair and waited for Gareth to be seated. “Excuse my wife’s absence. She’s still above stairs tending to our daughters. They ate too many honey cakes today.” He patted his flat stomach to indicate their malady.
“And your wife is caring for them?” Gareth asked, sincerely surprised as he settled in beside Tanon.
“Of course.” Brand brought a flagon of ale to his lips. “Why do you ask?”
Gareth shrugged his shoulders. “I was told that Norman noblewomen have no inclination to tend to their children. That’s why their sons grow to be—”
“You’ve been terribly misinformed,” Tanon cut him off, offended that he would think such a thing about her mother.
Turning to her, Gareth slanted his mouth. “Forgive me for making such a rash judgment on people I don’t know.”
She caught the sarcasm and nodded conceding him the point. Her toes curled when he offered her a smile of truce.
Dante used his foot beneath the table to push away the empty chair across from him. “Have a seat,” he invited the man standing behind Gareth’s chair. His friendly smile deepened into a challenging smirk. “Madoc,oui?”
“Nay,” Madoc answered with a sardonic sneer of his own. “I prefer to stand.”
“I understand,” Dante’s eyes glimmered over the rim of his goblet when he lifted it to his mouth. “Standing makes you look bigger.”
Beside him, Gianelle covered her mouth with her hand to conceal her amusement.
“So do petite wives,” Madoc countered and bowed slightly to her.
Dante laughed and lifted his cup to Madoc. “Ah, finally, someone who can match words with me besides my beautiful wife. Sit and share a drink with me, and perhaps in the morn, before the wedding, we can find out if your blade is as quick as your wit.”
“Madoc, join us,” Gareth said without turning to his first in command. “I need no protection here.”
Dante agreed while Madoc took his seat. “I’d venture you need no protection anywhere, Your Highness. Your skill was extraordinary today.” He smiled when Gareth thanked him. “Did you learn to fight like that by battling Normans?”
“Nay.” Gareth glanced up at the server setting a trencher down in front of him before moving on to Madoc. “By battling my brothers. I was four, the youngest of the brood when my father died and my mother sent us to live with my uncle in Deheubarth. We were put to the training field immediately, where my brothers repeatedly trounced me.” His self-mocking grin worked well at disarming the two warriors facing him. “Taking pity on me, my uncle taught me how to avoid their fists by dancing.”
“Dancing?” Brand asked with curiosity coloring his eyes to bright azure.
Naked beneath the full moon, most probably,Tanon thought to herself, and then chased those images away with a drink of her cooled mead.
“Aye,” Gareth explained. “Dancing helps you find your center. Your balance,” he added when both Brand and Dante cast him skeptical looks. “Balance and speed are an integral part of our training. I’ve since taught every person in my village.”
“To fight, or to dance?” Brand inquired, narrowing his eyes, curious to know more about his daughter’s future husband.
“Both.”
“I hate dancing.” Oliver, Tanon’s youngest brother scowled and folded his arms over his chest.
“That’s because your dances are solemn. We dance in celebration.” Gareth winked at him, setting Tanon’s nerves on fire.
“In celebration of what?” Brand asked him.
“Victories, a good harvest, the birth of a babe.”
Tanon’s other brother William snorted. “If we had to dance every time a babe was born to my parents, we’d be dancing all the time.”
The warmth of Gareth’s laughter caused even Brand to smile when the prince looked around the table at his children, and then at him. “Six children is a good start, Lord Brand.”
Tanon cut him a horrified look out of the corner of her eye. She hoped he was joking. She’d watched her mother give birth to four of her six siblings, and she certainly didn’t want to go throughthatmore than a half dozen times.