Read Online Tempt Me With Kisses by Margaret Moore - Free Book Online

he would shave off his beard and try to look more like a lord and less like an unshorn sheep.
    “Caradoc?”
    He tensed at the serious tone of Dafydd’s voice. “Yes?”
    “How can you marry her? You just met her today.”
    “I knew her years ago, and so did you. Her father was Angus MacDougal, the wool merchant.”
    “I don’t remember him, or her, either.”
    “I do.”
    “You could have had your pick of half the unmarried noblewomen in Wales, and they’ve got dowries big enough to pay off the worst of the debt.”
    Caradoc faced his friend. “Half the unmarried noblewomen in Wales have hardly been beating a path to my door, have they? Besides, even if they did, I’d have to pay their families the amobr . Fiona doesn’t know about that, or I think she would have mentioned it. Even if she did, she has no family to pay. So I get all her considerable dowry, and have nothing to pay myself.
    “As for her being pretty or not, she’s pretty enough for me.” He slid his friend a glance and decided he could say a little more about her. “And she’s, um, not shy.”
    Dafydd’s eyes widened and he let out a low whistle. “Aye, I should have guessed that from her arrival. Brazen in many things, is she?”
    Caradoc saw no need to confirm Dafydd’s opinion with examples as he went to the nearest chest and lifted the lid. There was a comb made from bone right on the top. If he were like Eifion, he would take this as a sign, and a good one. “Whose is this? Do you know?”
    “No. Jon-Bron will. Are you going to try to comb that tangled mess on your head?”
    “Is there something wrong with that?”
    “Not at all, provided you don’t break the comb. Will you have me fetch the shears?” he finished with mock gravity.
    Caradoc was glad to hear his friend’s jesting query. It made his marriage seem a much less serious undertaking. “No, I don’t want the shears. Nobody would recognize me if I cut my hair. It’ll be enough if I comb it and get rid of my beard.”
    “You’re cutting off your beard?” Dafydd cried, genuinely shocked.
    Caradoc frowned. “And you it was telling me I looked like a sheep in serious need of shearing.”
    “Well, yes, I did.”
    Caradoc raised his brows questioningly.
    “All right, all right, off it goes. And here’s just the thing to do it with.” He pulled his dagger from his belt and held it out. “Sharp as can be, that is. Be careful.”
    With a scowl that wasn’t completely bogus, Caradoc accepted it. “I am not so clumsy as I was.”
    “I know that.” Dafydd went back to toying with the thread and slid Caradoc a look out of the corner of his eye. “So, tell me. How did you discover she wasn’t shy ?”
    “That’s for me to know, and you to puzzle over.”
    “You’re not going to tell me, your best and oldest friend? The one who taught you how to shear? The fellow who took you to the Bull and Crown in Shrewsbury and introduced you to that fine girl who giggled all the time, even when you were—”
    “I’m not going to tell you,” Caradoc sternly interrupted before Dafydd went any further with his reminiscences.
    Despite the merriment in his eyes, Dafydd managed to look mightily affronted. “Varlet.”
    “Cur.”
    “Blackguard.”
    “Nit.”
    Dafydd got up and came closer to examine Caradoc’s progress. “Watch what you’re doing there, Caradoc, or you’re going to slit your own throat.”
    “Then be quiet and let me get on with it,” the lord of Llanstephan growled as he continued to scrape the heavy black whiskers from his face.

Chapter 4

    L ater that night, Fiona followed Rhonwen down the steps to the great hall. The petite young woman had been quiet and efficient, and was so delicate in her movements that, coupled with her light brown hair and brown gown, she reminded Fiona of a sparrow or wren, a tiny creature that flitted about its business unnoticed and unremarked.
    In that, Rhonwen was blessedly different from Ganore. She wondered if Caradoc