A Moment in Time Read Online Free PDF Page A

the love of a man, Dewi. For love, sworn to most passionately, can turn and change until it disappears entirely. Nay, dear one, I shall never base any important decision I make in life upon love."
    The boy nodded, content. All he understood of Wynne's words was that she would not leave him or place his existence in jeopardy; but Einion's brown eyes were troubled. The lady Wynne was much too young to have so acute a knowledge of life, particularly as she lacked the awareness of men and women. It was not the first time she had spoken thusly, and each time she did, he peered at her curiously, seeing someone else. Yet it was she and no other who always stood before him. He shook his great head, puzzled, and kicked his horse to follow along after them.
    They arrived back at Gwernach to find Rhys of St. Bride's there just ahead of them, his troop of men and horses milling about in the courtyard as the stable serfs struggled to gain control of the situation. Their relief was almost palpable as Wynne arrived; the chief amongst them ran to take her horse's bridle.
    "See to our guests," Wynne gently instructed him. "I am capable of managing my own mount."
    As the serf backed off, his place was taken by a man of medium height, richly dressed. "I shall not have to kill those who have told me that Wynne of Gwernach is a beautiful girl," he said, "but perhaps I should, for they did not praise your beauty enough, lady."
    "And I had not heard it said that Rhys of St. Bride's was a flatterer, my lord," Wynne answered, looking down upon him.
    The face that looked up at her was pure Celt. The head was large and oval. The face from forehead to cheekbones, broad, narrowing slightly as it moved downward to the well-barbered, dark, short beard and moustache that encircled a sensuous mouth. The nose was straight and the eyes now engaging hers light grey. The physique was battlehard as evidenced in the thick, bull-like neck. His close-cropped hair was a rich, deep brown.
    Wynne did not lower her gaze from his. To do so would have given evidence of weakness on her part. Wynne did not think it wise to allow Rhys of St. Bride's to believe she could be manipulated or bullied.
    "Let me help you from your horse, lady," he said, and without waiting for an answer, lifted her down, his strong fingers firmly grasping her about the waist, loosening slightly as her feet made contact with the ground.
    Wynne stepped away, brushing the dust from her clothing, casually shaking an imaginary wrinkle from her yellow tunic dress. "Thank you, my lord," she said. "Will you come into the hall for refreshment?" Turning, she moved away from him.
    For a moment Rhys was nonplused. He had been told that Wynne of Gwernach was an untried and innocent maid. Yet this girl seemed quite strong and confident. Though his experience with young girls was not great, he did not somehow feel her behavior was correct. Still, he had no choice but to follow after her, which he did.
    Wynne's heart was beating perhaps a bit more rapidly than normal. So this was Rhys of St. Bride's, she thought, attempting to marshal her thoughts logically. He didn't look like an easy man, but neither did he look cruel. Rather, he appeared to have a look to him that reminded her of the tenacity of a hunting dog. If he wanted Gwernach, she was going to have a battle keeping it from him, but keep it from him she would. Gwernach belonged to Dewi ap Owain, and Wynne intended that her brother grow to manhood, marry, and pass Gwernach on to his descendants.
    They entered the hall and Caitlin and Dilys came forward, simpering their welcome to the lord of St. Bride's as Wynne introduced him. Each girl was wearing her second-best tunic dress. Caitlin's was rose-colored with silver and black thread embroidery which complemented her fair skin. Dilys's was a pale blue with darker blue and pink thread embroidery. They giggled and lowered their eyes modestly as Rhys's frank gaze swept over them.
    "Your sisters are fair," he