Here Be Dragons - 1 Sharon Penman (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📖
- Author: Sharon Penman
Book online «Here Be Dragons - 1 Sharon Penman (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📖». Author Sharon Penman
267"A sluggard " She saw him bite down on his lower hp, said uncer inly- "Why7 Dl%nn>lf 1S not 7""Diogyn means 'sluggard/ love " Llewelyn was openly laughing"Dignn dignn means 'unwithered'1"nJoanna's first reaction was one of mild embarrassment and frustraShe was coming to envision Welsh as a tide beyond her control it s always sweeping in, inundating her in alien sound, and just when he thought she was getting her head above water, it went roaring out earn, stranding her high and dry But after a moment or so, she began to see the humor in it, and joined ruefully in Llewelyn's laughter"Sometimes I despair of ever learning your language," she con fessed, and he slid his arm around her shoulders, drew her closer "You'd learn it faster, Joanna, if we were to speak Welsh, notFrench ""But as tongue-tied as I am, we'd never be able to communicate at all thenExcept in bed1" She settled back m his arms, and then, before she could lose her nerve, she said, "You were talking about Arthur before, were you not7"Llewelyn did not answer at once "How much did you under stand7""You were all talking so fast just Arthur's name and Papa s It was not hard to guess the rest Llewelyn do you think Arthur is dead7""Yes, love, I do," he said quietly, and after a moment, she sighed"So do I," she admitted "It's been nigh on five years Logically, he he must be dead But Llewelyn, could he not have sickened, died through mishap7Papa might well have feared to make it known, after the way his enemies have lied about him in the past And if Arthur tried to escape "She looked at Llewelyn in mute appeal, and he said, with all the conviction he could muster, "It may well be, Joanna " But the day would come, he knew, when she would not be so readily reassured, when her faith might not be strong enough to prevail over fact He smoothed her hair away from her face, said, "I'd rather not talk of John's nephew, breila But I never tire of talking of his daughter "That coaxed a smile from Joanna "You did just earn yourself that nnk of wine," she said, and reached for her bedrobe The first time ewelyn had said he loved her, soon after Elen's birth, she'd been con-lr>ced that was the happiest, most fulfilling moment of her life But er, doubt had crept m Llewelyn had been known to handle the truth( n less than scrupulous care, how could she be sure he was speaking g the heart, not merely saying what he knew she needed to hear7§lrig the wine cup back to the bed, she watched as he drank, and
268ff269then, as he leaned over to put the cup on the floor, the words seemed to come of their own accord. "Llewelyn . . . why do you love me?""Why? Because, in appearance and demeanor, you seem the per. feet Norman ladymodest, reticent, aloof even. And then I get you [^ my bed, and you all but scorch the sheets!" He laughed, ran his hand caressingly along her back, down her thigh. "Not to mention your admirable good taste in loving me beyond all reason!"Joanna could not help herself, felt a throb of disappointment. But she should have known better, in truth, should have known he'd not take such a question seriously.Llewelyn reached up, drew her down beside him again. "No, you are not at all as you seem to be, breila. You are a constant surprise to me, and not just in bed. When I was a lad, my mother would oft tell me the legend of the bird with the resplendent plumage; shall I tell it to you now? When it nests in the grass, it is not easily seen, for it takes on the drab protective coloring of the earth that gives it refuge. But when it takes flight, soars up into the sky, its wings burst into flame, reflect all the glories of Heaven itself. As a boy, I spent hours searching for that bird ... in vain, of course. Passing strange, that I should find it after all these years . . . and in my own bed."Joanna had listened, mesmerized. "Me?""You're like that mythical bird, love. You cloak yourself in the muted colors of a wellborn Norman lady, seem soft-spoken, shy, and obedient. But that is not you, Joanna, not truly, and when I least expect it, your spirit takes flight like the bird with the sun-bright
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