In Which Roderick Proposes a Renovation

June 10, 1169

"Well, the messengers have been sent," Roderick announced, taking a seat next to his wife. "My hope is that my letters will arrive within the month, and the young ladies will be here around mid-August."

"And if they aren't?" Her tone was one of rhetoric rather than one of concern; she knew just as well as he did that there was no cause for worry.

He shot her his most confident, most kingly grin, the one that never failed to send her into one of her charming fits of giggles. "They will be."

Roderick leaned forward in his seat, allowing himself to look Laralita over; her dress didn't leave much to the imagination, he noticed as he always did, but her body had taken the revealing garment and made it a dress worthy of a queen. Doubtless, she would remain the loveliest creature in the castle even when Severin's prospective brides arrived--and Roderick had been sure to invite some lovely creatures indeed. "Care to hear who shall be joining us?"

Laralita's full lips curved into a charming smile. "Indeed, I am curious."

"Well, perhaps the most splendid of the guests," he began, pausing for the proper effect, "will be Antonina of Siena--niece of the Pope."

Her brows arched and her jaw dropped. Concerned, Roderick frowned; surely his darling did not think herself unworthy of being a hostess to such a well-connected woman? "The niece of the Pope? I daresay she would be far out of Severin's reach."

So that was the issue. He had to admit, he was a little relieved. "That thought crossed my mind too, which is why I invited the others--just in case the dear lady decides to pass him over for someone of a higher station."

"Of course. Who else shall we be hosting?"

Roderick skimmed the list in his head--it simply wouldn't do to give a wrong name or title. "Well, Odette of Champagne, niece and ward of the count, and Svanhild Hjalmarsdotter, granddaughter of a Norse king--granted, her father was a bastard, but so is Severin. There will also be a daughter of an Icelandic chieftain, as well as several sisters of lords throughout the continent, some of whom are also widows."

"Chances are that some of them will be willing to settle," Laralita agreed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself onto his lap. "But I have one question."

Of course she did. He loved that she always had questions; it proved that she was not only listening, but processing as well. It was a welcome change from his first wife, who had never been much good for either. "Yes, my love?"

"You plan on letting Severin have his pick of these women."

He nodded. Laralita frowned. "Well... what will happen with the ones he doesn't pick?"

Damn! He hadn't thought so far ahead yet. At least it wasn't as if he'd promised any of them a husband... had he? He wouldn't be compromised diplomatically if one of them took offense... would he?

"Uh... you know, dear, I think we should redecorate the guest chambers before they come."

Delighted, Laralita buried herself in his arms and purred into his shoulder--worked every time, that one did. She was probably already rearranging furniture in her mind. "Oh, but of course! I'm thinking the one with the large window could use a nicer fireplace--perhaps something in a marble?"

"Yes, marble," Roderick murmured in accord. "Marble... yes, that will solve everything." Except for what to do with seven available noblewomen...

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