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Cadell was the perfect example of this. The man he was had little in common with the youth she remembered.

“Perhaps. But you haven’t changed,” he said in a low voice that sent shivers all along her spine. He had made it sound like the most heartfelt compliment.

“I think I have.” After the ordeal of the last few months, and the harsh welcome she had received at Bryn Glas, she felt far older than her thirty-one years. Not to mention that her lonely life had dulled the spark she had briefly felt at the start of her marriage. “I have aged far more quickly than I should have, what with⁠—”

“You haven’t changed,” he repeated, sounding almost angry, as if he could not bear to hear her say that she had aged. “You are still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Because of the gruff tone, Johanna didn’t immediately register what Cadell had said.

And then, she did.

He’d said that she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Did he mean that he’d thought her the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen ten years ago, when they’d met for the first time? Unsure what to think of that declaration or what she should reply, she blinked. Then she decided she had better say something. He had just paid her a wonderful compliment.

“I… Thank y-you,” she stammered.

“No need to thank me. It’s only the truth.”

Johanna closed her eyes.

The rest of the ride was accomplished in silence.

4

They reached Bryn Glas’ gate before the downpour began, for which Johanna was grateful. She was bone weary, ready to lie in her bed and forget the disastrous day—or rather the disastrous week—she’d had. From the moment she had arrived at the castle, she had been fighting an uphill battle and it was taking its toll. In the same way a knight would feel relieved once reinforcement had reached the battlefield, now that she had an ally, she could allow herself to acknowledge how worn out she felt.

Ever the attentive helper, Cadell assisted her down from the saddle, his hands closing around her waist. For a delicious moment, her heartbeat picked up. Yes. It would seem that every time they touched, it provoked something inside her. She would have to address that problem if it persisted.

“Thank you,” she said, making sure to keep her back to him. It was better he put some distance between them before she turned around. Finding herself face to face with him would only be courting trouble.

When she finally dared to move, it was to see a little girl run straight into her legs. The collision caused the child to fall on her backside and stare around in incomprehension. Johanna could not help a laugh at the look of bewilderment on her face. She was a beautiful little girl, with a mop of gold ringlets on her head and big, gray eyes. Who was she? The cook’s grandchild? One of the watchmen’s daughter? It mattered not. If she lived at Bryn Glas, she was her responsibility and should be looked after.

“Careful, here,” Johanna said, using her good hand to lift her back to her feet. “Did you hurt yourself?”

There was no answer. Of course, the child would likely not understand English, just like everyone else. Feeling rather dejected at this reminder that she could not communicate with her own people, Johanna turned to Cadell. At least, with him here, for once, she would be able to make herself understood.

There was no need to ask him anything. He’d already understood what she needed. The little girl shook her head when he repeated the question in Welsh.

Good. She was not hurt, at least.

“Thank you,” she told Cadell. “Could you also ask her what her name is?”

Perhaps starting with children would be a good way to earn the people’s respect. They might not be as stubborn or prejudiced as adults. If they told their parents that the English lady was not so bad, they might start to see her differently. It was worth a try, and she didn’t have a better idea. But before Cadell could open his mouth, a woman appeared at the other end of the bailey. Upon seeing the child in the arms of the despised mistress of the castle, she paled. Rushing forward, she grabbed the little girl—who had to be her daughter—by the hand, and led her back to the kitchen, all the while mumbling to herself.

“What did she say?”

Though she guessed the woman would not be thanking her for having come to her daughter’s aid, she could not help but ask Cadell for confirmation.

“Nothing of import,” was the careful answer.

She could tell he was trying to avoid upsetting her, for which she was grateful. But it did not change the fact that the woman had likely ranted against the accursed Englishwoman and wished for her to leave her child alone.

“Let us get in before it starts raining. That was what we tried to do in the first place,” Cadell added, in an obvious bid at smoothing over the awkwardness of the moment. “Hey, you over there!” he called to the nearest man, who was cleaning a sorry-looking saddle and had made no move to come assist his mistress.

A string of clipped instructions in Welsh left Cadell’s lips. Johanna recognized a few words, amongst which was ceffylau, horses. He was ordering the men to do what they should have done of their own initiative and see to the horses. A moment later, the man came forward and took both reins from Cadell’s hands.

After listening to another set of instructions, he left, leading the animals to the stables.

“Is it always like this?” Cadell asked, frowning.