The Heart of a Queen (A Historical Romance)

Chapter 27

After his abrupt proposal, Isobel had taken to hiding in her room so that she wouldn't have to interact with Ruarc. When they did meet, Brienna cringed at the way her friend had to skirt her brother's advances, and began to see one of the downsides to diplomacy; having so much tact could be exhausting, and so could hiding one's true feelings, as she had come to learn for herself.

It was no easy task, sitting at the table with Donnall across from her and hiding her distaste for him. For his part, he showed no sign that anything had happened between them, still acting the shy and accommodating fiancé when they were in each other's company, which Brienna made sure was restrained to the great hall.

At mealtimes, conversation centered on the dynamics of the conclave that was to come. Ruarc had several theories on how to get the visiting lords to sign treaties, most of them violent. Llewellyn and Isobel tolerated his brash suggestions with unending patience, but Brienna found her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. This was just the kind of behaviour she felt like their hosts expected of them, and from anyone come from Ireland; rough, uncouth, and fond of savagery.

"I say we begin the negotiations by slicing off a few fingers," Ruarc said, eyes glistening. He always became piqued when contemplating brutality. "The lighter their hands are, the faster their signatures will fly across the parchment!"

"But not without some difficulty holding the quill," Brienna quipped.

Ruarc bristled. "Sister, you've become very mouthy since leaving home," he said, playful but with an edge to his voice.

"If you prefer your women silent, then I'm afraid you shall find our marriage rather too loud for your liking," Isobel spoke up for the first time that evening.

Ruarc laughed gleefully, smacking the table. "Gracious, Llewellyn, you must be glad to have finally made a match for this one," he said, nodding to Isobel. "Between her and my sister's daft suggestions about how to conduct your affairs, you must have a constant headache."

Brienna pushed back in her seat and stood up.

"I've just remembered that I've lost my appetite," she said. "I'll leave you to your discussion without the burden of my insertions."

Isobel stood as well, her expression undaunted, but Brienna could tell she was glad of an excuse to leave.

"Allow me to accompany you," she said.

They walked out together, but just before making her exit, Brienna couldn't help but pause to look back, hoping that her leaving would get the reaction she wanted; for Ruarc to see that his words hat hurt her feelings.

But her brother, though not malicious, was hopelessly arrogant, and he was waving off their retreat with a gesture like he was shooing away two moths that were eyeing his wool cloak.

"In my experience, squawking maids are fast subdued once they have all the pleasures of marriage in front of them," he said, driving home his innuendo by elbowing Donnall, who winced. "I'm sorry you've had to put up with it for so long," he turned to Llewellyn, consoling, "but at least you'll be getting rid of them both in one go."

Llewellyn's back was to her, but she could still hear him plainly enough.

"Ha, yes," the king said, tearing his bread. "Best we get them both married off and out of Wales, if I'm to have any peace around here."

Furious, Brienna went out, glad that Isobel had gone up ahead of her so she wouldn't see the hurt that flushed her cheeks as if she'd just been slapped in the face.