Free Alinor by Roberta Gellis Page A

Then Alinor looked up. She held out her hands quite naturally so that Ian could assist her to her feet. She could only pray that the dim light would hide the hot color she felt in her cheeks. Alinor lowered her eyes again.
    "When shall the wedding be?"
    The grip on her hands tightened suddenly. "Soon."
    There was so much eagerness in Ian's reply that Alinor raised a startled gaze to him. He had surprised himself almost as much as her, however. By the time her eyes found his face, he was looking past her, and his mouth was hard. He released her hands.
    "It must be very soon," Ian went on. "I know the king intends to hold Christmas in England. And it would be well to assume he will come here a week or two earlier. Thus―"
    "The beginning of December or, to be safe, the end of November." Alinor put a hand to her cheek. "For how many must I make ready?"
    "On my part about twenty noble lords. Five, at least, will have large retinues."
    "You are asking Llewelyn?"
    "Yes. I am not sure he will come, but I hope he does. There is some chance of it because he will want to see his son Owain, who is with me, and if John is not yet in the country, it would be safe enough."
    "Safe enough? Is Llewelyn not married to John's daughter Joan? And surely that was only a few years ago. This Owain―"
    Ian laughed. "I have a fine crop of bastards among my squires—but they are good boys. Owain is Llewelyn's eldest natural son. Geoffrey is William of Salisbury's boy." He nodded at her expression of satisfaction, but returned to the subject that worried him. "If Llewelyn does not come, I will have to ride into Wales. I fear he is brewing up trouble there and I must speak to him. You understand, Alinor, that if the king ceases to split himself between the French lands and these islands, his strength will be greatly increased here. Moreover, the barons who would not go with him to France will eagerly flock to his standard to subdue Wales or Scotland or Ireland."
    "I see that clearly enough. What I do not see is what success may be looked for if John leads the army."
    "Hush," Ian said, grinning at her. "After his great victories in France to be so untrusting." He laughed again. "Most of the time Salisbury leads. That is all to the good. If John were not a cursed fool, William of Pembroke would lead—and that would be still better. However, John is learning. He will never be a great battle leader because—because he thinks too much, although he is not so totally useless about war as he once was."
    Alinor was listening with only half an ear. Most of her attention was devoted to adding and multiplying in her head, and her eyes were growing larger. "Oh, Ian, with those I must ask it will be nigh on forty lords with their ladies and near—near a thousand servants."
    "Yes." Ian wrinkled his brow over her calculation. "That sounds right to me. Of course, some men we must have counted twice. The number will doubtless be less by a few."
    "It will strip a year's supplies from Roselynde."
    "To be sure," Ian agreed. "That cannot matter. You have spent far too much time here."
    "But―"
    He turned away a little. "You need not excuse yourself to me. I know why it was done. Nonetheless, now it is time to correct your necessary neglect. You must go on progress, and it will be natural to stay awhile at each keep and set all to rights."
    Being far more used to hearing that she gave too close attention to the doings of her vassals and castellans, Alinor was temporarily reduced to silence.
    "We have wasted too much time on this already," Ian continued, his eyes on the brightening light of morning coming into the antechamber. "When the children are abed after dinner, we can list those who should be asked." His quick smile and the next words took the sting from the remark. "I am starving."
    Alinor chuckled. "If you do nothing but eat and sleep, you will get fat."
    "Not I. I have been trying to put on some flesh for years. It would do wonders for my jousting." But his