"I think we are far more fortunate in our mates," Nesta said, and Enid smiled to herself, overhearing.

As much as Enid liked Madoc, she also liked his sister, who appeared to be the same sensible sort of girl that Wynne was. Nesta even had Rhys eating out of her hand, something Enid had never thought to see. She smoothed the fabric of her tunic dress, pleased with the richness of the indigo blue silk brocade which was shot through with silver threads. Aye, Rhys had turned from a lion to a lamb before their very eyes, and Nesta of Powys was entirely responsible. If that wasn't magic, she'd like to know what was.

Enid breathed deep of the warm late summer air, feeling a deep contentment envelop her as she did. If six months ago you had told her that everything at Gwernach would be so good by autumn, she would have considered the teller mad. She looked to the hillside where her son was buried. Ahh, Owain! she thought. The fates have dealt kindly with us indeed. Caitlin and Dilys are marrying well today and will be gone from here. Wynne's betrothed husband has come for her and will protect Dewi's rights. We need not fear his motives as we might have feared others. I believe we are safe, though I should not have thought it so without you, my son. If only Wynne were happier about her own impending marriage, but ahh, 'tis just maidenly concerns. Some have them and others do not. It will be well. I know it will be well.

The old woman stood smiling in the little church at Gwernach as Father Drew united in the holy sacrament of marriage her granddaughter Caitlin to Arthwr of Coed, and her granddaughter Dilys to Howel of Llyn. She nodded, pleased, as she saw Madoc of Powys reach out to take Wynne's hand in his, and Wynne not frown or pull away. Ah love! Ah youth! And yet, she thought wisely, there was a great deal to be said for age. Far more than youth could ever know. With age came acceptance, and sometimes, as in her case, peace. It was good to arise in the morning despite one's aches and pains, secure in the knowledge that one had survived to live another day. It was equally good to lie in one's featherbed at the end of a long day, warm and safe, and allow sleep to overtake one's thoughts. Enid smiled once more. If God would but allow her the time to see the others safe, she thought; and then little Mair was tugging at her hand.

"Come, Grandmother! The mass is over," she said brightly. "It is time to celebrate!"

"Aye," Enid responded. "It is certainly time to celebrate!"

Chapter 4

She was in the woods, and about her a faint mauve mist blew through the trees like pieces of shredded silk gauze. The world was frozen in time, yet above her a raven cried.

Remember!

She sensed the word rather than truly heard it, and she struggled to comprehend its meaning.

Remember! The word was whispered softly, urgently, in her ear.

Once more the raven sounded its harsh, raucous cry.

Remember? Remember what? She didn't know what. Then as always a terrible sadness began to wash over her. She heard the name being called, but she could absolutely not make out that name. Stirring restlessly, Wynne suddenly awoke. She was drenched in perspiration. As she came to herself, she was grateful that Nesta was now sleeping in the bed that had once been Caitlin's and Dilys's. The recurring dream was not something she wanted to share with anyone. It confused her and it frightened her.

Pushing the bed curtains back, she slipped from her sleeping place. Outside the window she could see light beginning to creep up the horizon. In the dark blue sky above, the morning star blazed brightly like a perfect crystal. Opening the chest at the foot of her bed, Wynne drew out her favorite old green tunic dress and slipped it on, not bothering to belt it. Then splashing some cold water on her face, she moved softly down the stairs, across the hall to the entry. Drawing the bolt back as silently as she could, she opened the door and stepped outside.

She padded barefooted across the courtyard, nodding at the sleepy sentry who opened the gates for her. At Gwernach they were used to the young mistress's early morning wanderings. Halfway across the field opposite the gates, Wynne stopped suddenly as a great fifteen-point buck stepped daintily and silently from the forest. Wynne pulled a handful of green grass and held it out to the buck. Her heart was beating wildly in her excitement, but drawing several deep, slow breaths she managed to quiet it, thereby lowering the tempo of her life force so that she would not seem hostile to the big deer.

The beast eyed her curiously for what seemed like several very long minutes. Then he snorted softly, tossed his head and pawed the ground gently, all the while watching her to see what effect his actions would have upon this human. When Wynne giggled low, the deer stepped nervously back a pace or two.

"Shame on you," she said in a soft voice.

The deer's ears pricked at the sound of her words, a definitely nonhostile sound.

"Why you're twice my size," Wynne continued, "and you're afraid of me? Don't be silly! Come and take this fine meadow grass I've picked for you. 'Tis sweet and the dew's yet on it."

As if he understood her words, the buck came slowly forward, curious and lured by the delicious scent of the grass. He stretched his neck out as far as he could, reaching for the greenery, yet hoping to keep a goodly distance between himself and this human. Wynne leaned forward a tiny bit to facilitate the animal, who now began to chew upon her offering and, thus distracted, did not notice the slender girl moving forward just slightly toward him.

An arm sliding about her waist would have startled her terribly had not Madoc's voice whispered in her ear, " 'Tis only me, dearling. I see you have tamed Hearn to your hand."

"How can you be certain it is Hearn?" she demanded of him.

"How can you be certain it is not?" he replied. Reaching out, he rubbed the muzzle of the big buck with the knuckles of his hand.

The great deer, finished eating, raised his head to stare directly at them both. Then turning gracefully, he moved off slowly across the meadow, browsing casually on choice tidbits here and there as he went.

Madoc turned Wynne about so that she was facing him and smiled down at her. "You are clever that you can entice the beasts of the forest to your side."

"There is no trick to it, my lord. I merely concentrate on not being threatening to them," Wynne told him, and she shifted nervously in his arms. It was happening again. She could feel the heat beginning to pound through her veins. Why did he have this odd effect upon her?

Madoc could plainly see her discomfort, but he appeared in no hurry to release her, and Wynne would not ask him to do so. "I believe I was to give you a lesson in kissing the other night," he said quietly. "As we were not able to meet then, I think now as good a time as any." He tipped her face up to his. "Open your lips slightly."

"What?" She found the request startling.

"To kiss properly you must part your lips," he explained seriously, struggling very hard with himself not to laugh. Teaching a maid to kiss seemed a strange occupation. Most girls appeared to come by it quite naturally.

"Like this?" Wynne, obviously very intent on getting it just right, pursed her lips adorably.

"Close your eyes," he said.

"Why?" she demanded.

"I believe it's considered more conducive to kissing to close one's eyes," he told her.

Her beautiful green eyes shut obediently, the thick, dark lashes fanning across her pale skin like smudges of black dirt. For a brief moment Madoc stared down at her in rapt awe. She was really incredibly beautiful. Who would have guessed that the pudgy infant he betrothed himself to those long years ago would have turned out to be so fair? Then he smiled to himself. He had always known. His mouth closed over hers without further delay, savoring the sweetness of her, the tenderness of her flesh.

Had her soul left her body? For a brief moment Wynne was entirely certain, for she seemed to soar, but then the heat consumed her as never before. Her stomach seemed to clench and unclench over and over again. Her heart beat a wild tattoo, and as passion, that hitherto unknown sensation, caught Wynne in its firm grasp, she became intoxicated with the intensity of her feelings. She was kissing him back, suddenly knowledgeable, a student no longer. She pressed herself against Madoc with an eagerness that caused him to gasp with surprise. She could not possibly understand the cravings she now felt; nor even those she engendered in him. All Wynne knew was that kissing was a most marvelous pastime, and she was filled to overflowing with her enthusiasm.

Madoc, however, knew that if he did not stop her now they would shortly be rolling about in the sweet green grass of the meadow, consummating their union in a manner Wynne could not possibly even imagine. Not that he could not teach her to enjoy that too, but it was far too soon for such revelations. He broke off the kiss and set her firmly back from him, smiling to show her that he was not displeased. "Dearling, you are as apt a pupil as any man could want," he assured her.

"Again!" she said, launching herself at him, lips at the ready. "I like kissing you!"

Swiftly he brushed her lips with his and then said, laughing, "And I like kissing you, dearling, but there is more to love than just kissing. It is too soon for us to explore other things, and I would enjoy courting you slowly, that we may first be friends."

"Is it possible for a man and a woman to be friends, my lord?"

"Aye, and the best of friends, Wynne, make the best lovers, I promise you," he told her.

"Kiss me," she wheedled him. "I feel there is a storm within me and only your kisses can calm the tumult."

"But your kisses awaken the turmoil within me, dearling," he returned. "Trust me and let us go slowly that our first union be all the better for the waiting."

Her cheeks grew rosy with his words, and she was suddenly shy of him again. "What must you think of me, my lord? I have been most bold with you." She turned away from him.

"Look at me, Wynne," he begged her, tipping her face back up to him. "I adore your boldness; but there are so many degrees of passion that I would have you experience first. Let me guide you in this as in other things. Do you not understand that I want you to love me?"

Wynne looked distressed. "Ohh, my lord, I have told you that I do not believe I am capable of such an emotion. I dare not be owned!"

"To love is indeed a possession of sorts, Wynne," he admitted, "but when one truly loves, it sets you free. I want you to love me, but if you do not believe you can, then I will be content to have you for my wife and my friend. Now you must call me by my name, for I will not have you sounding like a stranger or a servant."

"Who are you, Madoc of Powys," she asked him, "that you are so patient with me? I do not think Rhys of St. Bride's would have been so considerate of my feelings."

"Rhys was not meant for you. He did not love you."

"Nesta, however, is another matter," Wynne said with a smile. "Oh, Madoc, I want to laugh when I see him with her! He is like a great bear trying too hard to be gentle and tender of your sister. She says she has no magic about her, but I do not believe it so!"

"She has certainly bewitched him," Madoc agreed, "but it is love with which she has ensorceled Rhys. Nothing more, I vow."

"And you, Madoc," Wynne said boldly. "What sort of magic do you use? Your family's reputation precedes you. I admit to being curious. Most curious!"

"But not afraid," he noted, amused. "Well, dearling, I shall tell you all you need to know once we have returned to Raven's Rock, but for now I am ravenous for my breakfast! Since I will not allow myself the pleasure of feasting upon your sweet flesh, we must return to the house for more conventional fare."

"You are wicked!" she accused him, blushing scarlet at his words.

"Nay, good!" he told her with implied meaning. "Only good, I swear it, Wynne!"

"I dare not think otherwise, Madoc," she answered him, and taking his hand, led him back to the hall.

The next few days were probably the most idyllic Wynne could ever remember. The weather remained warm and fair. The two pairs of lovers strolled the meadows, the hills, and the forest, happy to be in each other's company. They picnicked by swiftly flowing woodland streams and sat upon the benches by the main fire pit in the evening, taking turns singing while one or another of them played upon a small stringed instrument.