|A Riding Lesson|
|Summary:||Dafydd gives the Lady Harlaw a lesson on proper form in riding. Also discussed is an explanation of 'a proper lady', and discussions of trade.|
|Date:||21 November 2011|
|Paddock - Terrick's Roost|
|Roost Lane runs right up to the front of the town's main stables. The rear of the structure is backed right against the interior wall of the town with the heavy wooden roofing gently sloped down towards the dirt road. Thick wooden beams are plunged into the ground and serve as a base for the walls between each stall. Hay serves as most of the flooring in the area with a large stack of it off to the side. Each stall has at least some on the ground to serve as bedding.|
|21 November 288|
Mid-afternoon, and it's feeding time for the horses. The various grooms have their wheelbarrows stocked full of grain and hay; a scoop of grain in the buckets and a flake of hay on the ground for each of them. There are a couple scuffles between the horses, but nothing more than an ear-pinning or a teeth-bearing to call 'dibs' over their meals. The Camdens' horses are set aside in a smaller enclosure; eight in all, and they too have their hay and grain, their noses burying deeply into the troughs as if it was their last meal.
One of the men-at-arms, turned personal servant, carries a number of bedrolls and quivers filled with arrows down the fenceline, dropping them by the gate in preparation. Behind him walks the youngest of the Lord Camdens, Daffyd, his appraising eye on the horses as they feed.
Rumors of the youngest Camden's soon departure have made their way back to Kate, and thought she's tried not to care, there has been an interest with the man she cannot entirely deny. So, while at some afternoon practice, as she sees the heavy loads being taken into the stables, she cannot help but sheath her sword and follow the servants into the stable, searching eyes looking for her previous prey, er… Interest. It's easy to catch sight of Dafydd, a cool smirk dancing across her mouth as she pads a few feet closer to him, "Running from my irresistable beauty already, are you?" She teases him huskily. She's well aware she is no beauty compared to most of the soft women of this land.
Dafydd turns to the sound of the sotto voice, and draws a breath as if to respond, and.. lets it come out as an exhaled sigh once more. His brows rise in askance, though no questions follow. Instead comes, "I'm leaving tonight for Stonebridge," matter-of-factly. His pace continues, though now he turns his attentions back and forth between the horses and the lady now beside him. Anything he could actually say regarding the question, however, would only come out.. a little more harshly than he would like (even for him!), so he doesn't actually address it.
"Mistress Damara should be around, and I'm sure my brother would appreciate a dose of consternation. He doesn't have enough of it in his life at the moment." His attempt at humour…
Amusement glints through her ice pale eyes, shoulders leaning back to rest casually against the wood of the stable, but a few feet for him, giving him room to work with the horse without actually backing away in any sense. Where as his pace is steady and determined, all work and focus, her's is utterly laid back on the surface. It's only beneath the primary layer one might see the carefully wrought tension that almost always rides her form. Like a big cat playing with it's prey. She's having fun, but she could also pounce at any moment. Maybe it's simply paranoid habit from her home. Maybe it's more…
"Your brother isn't nearly so fun to -give- a dose of consternation too. He's simply amused by it and shares in the banter. You could take a page from his book, possibly. But then, you would not be nearly so fun either." She tsks softly in the back of her throat, shaking her head to him, "It is a shame that you are departing. We did not have a chance to get to… Know each other… nearly so much as we could have." The word -know- is not lacking in innuendo. Yes. She's seen the few interested looks from him. She knows, despite her lack of beauty, she may very well have intrigued him.
Dafydd stops at the gate, near the pile of items that will eventually find their way onto the two horses that will be pulled from the paddock; that's after the steeds are done with their food, that is. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. The brothers share little in common when it comes to personality; one is cool as the water and the other is fiery. One is slow to move, and the other believes that speed is of the essence. The differences go on and on.. but they do share one very important thing— the love of and duty towards their land. "His book is written in a language that I can read but cannot comprehend at times."
Dafydd begins to call his darkly coloured horse, Gethin, from his hay but stops, his attention instead coming back around fully to the Ironborn. His regard is.. considering, and there is a hint of a curl of a lip into a smile, but only a ghost of one. "There are still more discussions to be had regarding our tradegoods, but not here. I don't think you will tire of the attentions of the Terricks. They are a good and noble family, or we wouldn't have allowed Lady Liliana to come." Though perhaps they should be bringing her home, now that Jaremy is.. gone. "If you do tire of their company, you can always present yourself to Tall Oaks." Her innuendo isn't missed. Not by a longshot. "We're a day's ride from here." He pauses, his words turning dry and amused, "Assuming you ride. If you walk, the distance seems a great deal further."
While the two brothers might be day and night, it seems this brother's book is the one which Kate takes pleasure in reading. She stands there, open and somewhat quiet, letting him study her as she watches him in turn. She does not bother to hide the interest from her eyes, that determined, fiery spark that is so contrary to the iciness of her body and her cold, dark heritage. Perhaps Ironman's blood runs hotter just to keep them alive on the most cold and wet of nights. She takes another step forward, since he has stopped to watch her, putting just a few scant feet ebtween them now.
"Is that an invitation, Dafydd? Perhaps a hope? And I assure you, I ride quite well." She meets his eyes dead on as she says that, perhaps even trying to draw a bit of blush to his cheeks. That would be amusing to see. "And I've had time on a horse or two as well, though they are no expertise of mine."
Dafydd's gaze is unwavering, and as she approaches, blue eyes follow her. He can't deny there is a physical, visceral attraction that has absolutely nothing to do with rank, though there is only the (partially) serious considering BECAUSE of rank and title. A slow step is taken to close the already short gap between the two, and he looks down at the fair-haired Ironborn lady. His voice drops, his tones come a little roughly around the edges in his response. "I can call Gethin and you can show me your ability to stay on."
That was not an offer the woman expected, in truth. Her attempts to make him blush, apparently, did not succeed. However, for his coming to the game, even if a bit late, she grins rather wider. It's a pleasant surprise. She doesn't back up as he comes closer, but she looks straight up to him, standing as straight and tall as she can, but he's got quite a bit of height on her. Probably quite a bit of power as well. A bit of heat flashes through her eyes at other thoughts that do not involve horses, but she keeps that smile firmly in place on her full mouth. "I've never been thrown yet, even by the most stubborn of bucking stallions."
One (of many) rule of playing with fire. There are times when the flame licks areas that are sensitive. There's something behind the eyes, a constant, nagging.. thought that is given voice.
Not for the first time, nor will it be the last, Dafydd breathes a soft, chopped breath out and as much as there's decidedly a physical interest, he's caught as he's reminded quite plainly that Ironborn ladies do not play by the same rules as their own. He lifts his hand to draw a curl from the side of her face, and to fold it behind an ear, an (perhaps) unexpectedly gentle motion before he pulls himself back and takes a half-step back once again.
"And here you had said there were very few opportunities to ride back home."
Oh. Gentleness. That is not fair at all. Not a trait Kate is accustomed to dealing with in the least, any previous interactions she's had all full of violence, passion, determination and force. He might catch it in her eyes, for just a moment, as he combs that white blonde curl behind her ear there is a flickering lack of certainty in her eyes. It's the first time he's ever seen her not entirely confident and slightly cold in her braggart ways. What is he doing? Why is he touching her like that? She doesn't pull away, but her breath catches a single moment and her whole body goes a hint stiff, much like a horse who is on the edge of being spooked.
Then, fortunately, he does step back and stiffens again. His words go rather more formal and the moment is past. Her eyes return to their previous cold arrogance and teasing amusement. "There were very few. But those that I've had have never thrown me. Besides, I do not back down from a challenge or a chance to learn. Unless you did not mean the offer."
"Your diplomacy skills need work, my lady." Dafydd's words are soft, teasing. "If you mean to prove to me your ability astride your mount by words, then by all means, it should continue. I'll not doubt your words." He pauses, then, "If you wished to be honest at the fore, then perhaps a confession and a desire to learn more should have come forth."
Blue eyes glance away, towards the horses, giving him a moment to gather his thoughts. There's absolutely no question in his mind that to bed her in the loft would be .. quite enjoyable, considering the fire that burns so brightly. But, there is the fact that she's a lady, though an Ironborn. There would be consequences to his actions, their actions.
"I did extend the invitation to Tall Oaks," he turns his head back to face her, his gaze lingering on her eyes, "and that is still in effect. Gethin is finished with his grain and picks at his hay, so I can keep my end of that offer as well." Dafydd sounds almost disappointed in what is ending up to be his decision on the entire matter. "He is a gentle beast when given a light hand, and can teach the most novice of riders their seat."
His challenging words about her lack of diplomacy drags her full mouth into an actual smirk there. "I never boasted of my ability to be a diplomat, that I assure you. I suspect my coming here was the best of a lot of bad choices. Ironmen are not known for their ability to brook words." She grumbles, a husky sort of comfortable growl in her voice. It makes her words almost touchable sounding, even in her own unhappiness. Years of shouting across decks has done good things for her voice if one likes those sort of throaty, bedroom tones.
"My ability to ride… and my ability to ride a horse… are two very different things, Lord Dafydd. I assure you I'm quite adept at the former, though I am rather more used to simply taking what I want in a man. You should know it is only an actual, strange touch of respect you Camdens have earned in me that stills my hand in taking that which I wish." And her eyes travel over his body as she says that, a brief, dark hunger in her gaze.
"But…" She breathes out, forcing herself back, forcing away thoughts of simply tossing him into the hay and showing him the strength of an Ironborn woman. "I suspect in these lands it would be… Essential, in truth. Where better to learn than by a man whose word has managed to catch my ear. Though I might owe you after this, if you truly manage to teach well."
"You are a woman. A lady," Dafydd corrects. "Not 'Ironman'.. but simply Ironborn. You have not the countenance of a man, nor the form and figure, though a little more on the hips would be more pleasing to some. You have not the voice of a man. Therefore, you need not act the part of a rutting buck." He sighs again and leans against a post; as he does, his small dark charger puts his head down and approaches with a soft whicker of greeting.
"I told you before there was no shame in being a woman.. a lady. And there is no shame in acting the part. In this, you will have my undivided attention until I depart this evening."
Dafydd hears his horse and rolls around the post and puts his hand up to stroke the soft, velvety nose. "Gethin, this is Lady Kathryna."
The commentary about her being a woman — nay, a lady — does not sit well with Kathryna. It's like he's called her some sort of dirty word or insult. She ruffles a bit, her eyes narrowing to him, jaw tightening as she figures out the proper come back to such words. He didn't mean it as the insult her brain heard. She draws in a quiet breath and lets him pull away to move back to the horse. She studies him and the beast with harder eyes, lips in an unhappy line.
"You say there is no shame in being a lady, Daf, but I assure you there is an… expectation that comes of those women who act like that. A way they are looked upon. Things they are set to do. Marriage. House keeping. Children." She says these things like somewhat dirty words. "It makes them little better than a saltwife that keeps a man's house in his preferred port. I am -stronger- than that." She is actually doing her best to explain, even if he might never understand. She then sighs again and looks to the horse.
She treads forward, calloused fingertips reaching up to rub gently at the horse's neck, making certain he sees her. "Good day, Gethin…" She offers almost gruffly. "I do believe Damara has made introductions at least once, you… much remember me…" Maybe the horse understands?
"Then you have not yet met the man you are destined to wed, if it were up to you." It's Dafydd's only response to her understated outrage. This is a topic, apparently, that has been given a great deal of thought and consideration, or perhaps not. Of course, the Camden only has the occasional anecdote of marriage for love and benefit.. and as far as he's concerned, if he weds, it matters not if the sun rises or sets upon him. Duty is all that is required.
Dafydd speaks no more about it, however, and puts a hand on the gate to open it. As if on cue, Gethin moves to the gate and sticks his dark head out in greeting. He stretches his neck and blows on Kathryna's face before he moves his head around to pull gently with his lips on Dafydd's sleeve, looking for goodies.
"You met him then." A tight smile comes, followed by, "Good," before he reaches into the pile for his saddle pad and saddle. It'll be quick work to get his tack on, and he gives the lady a chance to reaquaint herself with his horse.
"Destined to wed? Those are quite… Romantic words from a mainlander lord. Do you truly think destiny comes into marriage in any way for your sort? Or love? Have you ever seen it happen at least once? At least my people take the things they want and do not let politics stand in the way of their hearts." Kate rasps flatly, staring at him almost too strongly across the flank of the horse. She is quite geninely interested in his answer to this, considering he brought up the word destiny.
"Yes. I met him. Mistress Damara briefly taught me proper grooming, when we were having conversation here." Is her brief response to why she knows the horse, but other than gentle massaging her fingertips along the horse's neck, she has her attention full on Dafydd now.
"I have, actually. Duty can come with love, and love can come with duty." Dafydd shakes his head and finishes tightening the girth before he attends to the bridle. Tossing the reins over the horse's neck first, he then settles the bit into the mouth (which Gethin takes willingly) and up with the bridle over the ears. It's a quick brush of the forelock to disentangle it from the tack.. and with a couple of buckles, it's all attached.
"There. He's ready. Let me lead him to a block where you can mount him easily. While he's not tall, he is something of a round shape and the saddle may slip if you try to mount him from the ground." Dafydd's tones have shifted to the matter-of-fact, instructional. He's trying, really trying, to keep something of a distance; the warring concepts and ideas aren't making anything easy, as far as he's concerned.
"Your people require that women and children fight for survival or to be noticed and respected. While our women and children learn the bow, it is first to hunt.. and then protect the home." Dafydd doesn't approve of using women in battles, period. "And that is only if our men-at-arms and archers are bested. Which they have not yet been."
Kate cocks a brow as he mentions about having seen love and duty wrapped in one, but he doesn't dare go on about the matter. It certainly draws a skeptical look from her gaze, but she doesn't push it yet. It would not do in the least for her to be so distracted by philosophical conversations that she doesn't make an excellent showing upon the horse. God forbid she be toppled off and truly make an ass out of herself. This is a test, a trial, as much as anything else in her life has been.
She nods curtly at the explanation of him leading around the block. He is the expert in this matter, so she lets him begin to lead before she comes around the other side and follows with him and the beast. For once, she's not all cocky arrogance and challenge. She's genuinely willing to learn and is a fairly good pupil, it seems, especially when the matter might be necessary to survival in such lands.
"We are not necessarily discussing children here. There is no doubt a child is weaker and less able than an adult and no, they should not be made to fight for their own survival. But a properly trained, taught and honed woman is no weaker than a man. No less useful. You all have cut off fully half of your production and usefulness by relegating a woman to nothing more than a house keeper. I know that makes them useful. I know you need someone to keep home and hearth. But you are being a blind and stubborn fool to think that is all a woman can be!"
Gethin walks beside Dafydd as he's led to the mounting block, his head bobbing up and down with each step. Stopping at the block, the horse remains still; not a muscle moves as he waits for his rider to mount.
Such talk as theirs really deserves a glass of wine behind closed doors, neither of which he can spare. The youngest Lord Camden has no time for such, and this time together is cutting into his preparation. But, this is a diversion that he welcomes. If he even begins to think about what may happen when he leaves, he'll find himself in a poor humour indeed.
"Left foot into the stirrup, right leg swings over the top. He'll not move until you tell him to. He's the kind of horse that judges your ability and will not move if he thinks that you have a poor seat. He will walk slowly at first, so do not take it as an insult."
"You are distracting me, and yourself, from conversation you are not comfortable having by focusing on teaching me to ride this beast, you know? I am not so much the fool that I will be distracted by elegant creatures, not when I've finally managed to peel back some of that stubborn arrogance from the more heartfully passionate of the Camden Lords." Kate levels him with a hard, accusing gaze, the sort that says he has not escaped her curiosity or focus in this manner. That glass of wine and quiet night is promised in her eyes, for just a moment, but then she turns back to the horse and carefully slips her booted foot into the stirrup. She can -do- this.
Watching Kate's body move is a delicious moment of studying a practice in artful, absolutely toned muscle and grace. A female warrior is entirely a different matter than a man. She's used her smaller size to her advantage and is practiced in moving with a perfected conservation of movement. It's almost a mix between a dancer and a fighter, for she must move faster than any man. The kick tosses back her coat and exposes a touch more of her form for just a moment or two before she settles onto the horse somewhat stiffly. Yes, she's nervous. She's trying to hide it desperately, keeping a hard look on her expression even as her pulse double times and her breath shallows out a bit. She doesn't exactly freeze, but now astride, she nods to him…"Alright… up… now…?"
"It sounds like you have been talking with the Mistress of Hawks. 'Stubborn arrogance', is it?" Dafydd looks amused rather than annoyed. Oil and water, he and Damara. There is a respect for her Office, for her abilities, but everything else seems a presumption. That everything else is simply.. ignored. "Or have you spoken to my niece? I know she prowls these grounds, looking to see how far she may press patience for a lady-born."
There is certainly an appreciation for the art that is woman, and blue eyes reflect that as she finds herself in the saddle. Dafydd nods once, more a dipping of his head in acknowledgment and agreement. "Yes, you are. Now, reins in two hands.. loosely. Do not pull on his mouth. When you have yourself calm, simply ask him to move with the words 'walk on'. That is all that will be needed. He will start slowly for you."
"I am perfectly calm, Lord." Kate states immediately after those words, probably protesting a bit too much, but she has fought the most dangerous of men. Assassins, raiders, her own family. A bloody HORSE will not fighten her! She smirks at the thought of Damara, "Aye. Damara and I have found a certain fondness for each other. She's a good woman." But that's all Kate says on that matter. She is atop a horse and cannot much afford distraction right now. She loosely takes the reigns, breathing in deeply as she does try to calm her own pulse, and then she murmurs flat and firm. "Walk on!"
There is a little part of him that considers making Gethin run with the Ironborn on, but there would be no amusement in that and no point. There is no rivalry, no desire to 'break' that which is strong. What there is is fascination, and warring factions in his thoughts and thus emotions. That she would be taught by him is.. a good start.
Dafydd takes a step forward as the horse takes his first halting step as if finding his rider unsure. Gethin will give her time to make that decision, and he takes another step. And another— so very slowly.
"If you like, I can make him go faster."
Other than her slightly quickened breath, her pale knuckles might give away that she is still nervous. Kate is a small woman and she is rather high off the ground on such a beast. There is so much that can go wrong. But she keeps her jaw set, shoulders squared, chest out, and remains ready to ride. "Yes, yes, of course. One would get no where traveling a speed such as this. Just tell me how to steer the beast and I think I can manage quite well, truly!" Kate insists, gruff and proud despite nerves. Or perhaps even more so be cause of them. Atop the horse, her chin lofted like that, she really does cut quite an elegant figure in the sunlight. There is no doubt of nobility in her blood, even if she does all she can to hide in some days.
"Then tell him." Dafydd offers a rare smile, coupled with a sweep of his arm. "Gethin, listen to the lady. She wishes you would walk faster and stop treating her as a babe."
Her form upon the steed catches him off-guard as he lifts his gaze up as the horse walks on. He can't remember a more.. noble figure astride. It doesn't hurt that he knows there's a certain warming, and he has to banish the thought of the pale straw mixed in with the long, curled locks.
"Ask him to move and give him a squeeze with your legs. If he believes that you have your seat, he will speed up."
He's still not really told her how to steer, but Kate is not doing well with just inching forward slowly. She is -not- some babe or child. She has ridden a beast before even if it was ages ago and she was probably half drunk. She clears her throat and squeezes her legs against the beast. "Come now, Gethin1 Move on! If you keep this slow I will have to steal your master for another night, you know? Then he might think the -world- would end for his lack of keeping a -schedule-." Kate murmurs those words over dramatically, clearly thinking it'd be no issue if Dafydd stayed behind one other night.
And then she is settling in a bit firmer and she is quite ready to move. She's relaxed a touch, getting used to the feel of a saddle. That is the strangest part of her riding, truth be told. She's only ever ridden bare back, the one or two times she did ride, and that was probably under far, far different circumstances.
"If he trusts you, he will walk into walls if you do not steer. To turn to the right, turn the reins to the right and use your left leg to push on his side. A horse has two halves, the front and back. If you wish to go to the left, you turn your reins left and push on him with your right leg. He will move against your pressure. Your leg is the key. If you ever get good enough, you will be able to steer a horse with just a leg, leaving your hands free for weapons."
Dafydd snorts a laugh, "You are warming up my horse for his journey to Stonebridge. He will be loose and ready for the ride. All that is left is to pack his bags and to summon my man-at-arms for travel."
While she's not really experienced, Kate is smart and quite able bodied. With a little bit of instruction, and the simple logic behind his explanation clicking in her mind, she gives a curt nod and steers the horse towards the open way, where they could gallop, at least, a good distance without the need of Dafydd's guiding hand. And perhaps it's the fact the horse can feel her body settling into comfort upon the saddle, but she easily commands the beast now. "Faster! Come on, let's go!" She gives a quick double squeeze, perhaps emulating things she has seen or making a good guess of how the beast's body feels below her, and then she and Gethin take off quickly down the field. She gallops a good distance before gently holding up on the reigns and guiding the horse to turn around and return to his possibly worried master. She's not -as- smooth as a long term rider, but her body has been trained to do so much. Riding a horse is just another physical skill for already defined muscles and a sharp mind.
When she returns to his side, she's a touch breathless, some heat clear on her cheeks as she brings the horse to a stop and nods in approval. "That… is quite a thrill, I must say. There might actually be some appeal to these beasts after all. And you needn't ride tonight, in truth. If your brother stays, and the Terrick's are not even returned… another night would hurt nothing. An afternoon of riding, practicing… A night of good conversation…." She offers him half breathless, studying his features from her high seat astride the horse. It is probably one of the few times she will ever physically be looking down upon him.
Dafydd watches as horse and rider walk from their confines and out into the field beyond. The transition from walk to trot to canter, settling into the gallop is easy to discern with an experienced eye, even as they move far off away. Putting a hand over his brow to keep the sun from interfering, he watches the pair.
It's a handful of minutes, or two when they turn to return at a full out gallop, and he smiles, nodding his approval. Gethin is barely breathing hard as they rein up to a halt beside him. Dafydd had no fear of being run over— not by his courser anyway.
"One day's ride to the Oaks.. and one does not push the horse for the entire way or it will burst his heart." Just in case she needs the warning. "As for my departing this evening, it's true my brother will probably remain another day, but I will not." He's unyielding on this. Looking down, Dafydd shakes his head before looking up at the vision upon his horse. His tones are even, explaining his path and reasonings. "Ser Rygar has raised the fees for trade with the Roost from Stonebridge. I would like to be sure that our goods are not affected, even though they come down from the north rather than the east. If I have to, I am free to begin negotiations for trade with them. This will give the Oaks more opportunity for trade, which means more coin coming into the land. This will mean we can buy more goods from without as well."
Kate catches her breath, lingering astride the horse, but at least she now seems comfortable enough that she should be able to make it up to Tall Oaks without much of an issue — if she can acquire a horse for herself, that is. She rubs her fingertips down the horse's mane, reassuring and praising of the ride. She rather likes the beast, it seems. Finally, she looks from beast to man, carefully slipping one of her feet out of the opposite stirrup and then swinging her leg over the back of the horse so she can dismount smoothly. When she springs down to the ground, she is standing but a few feet from him again.
"Those intentions are all very noble, and I suppose your need to ride ahead of your brother is some wish to upstage the man and get to making negotiations before he does, but can you TRULY tell me that one day earlier will make a large difference, if any at all? That what you might learn here… and… Diplomatic relations you have yet to finish fully developing in the Roost are worth nothing?" She holds his eyes fully, no mistake about what sort of diplomatic relationships she's talking. Namely, the woman who stands before him.
Dafydd resists the urge to reach out and catch her waist to steady her as she dismounts as he would any lady. He atleast doesn't put his hands behind his back in a 'la-la, hope you fall' posture. While he doesn't reach, he does take a step forward, then reach for Gethin's reins.. not that the horse would move while his rider is getting off.
"You don't understand my brother and I. It's not upstaging. It's gaining intelligence so my brother may be more successful in his negotiations." Dafydd runs his hand down Gethin's mane before patting the side of his neck.
Now the question becomes, will he leave his perceived duty for a woman? That, he simply can't do, regardless of who it is. Not wife, not lover..
He stops short before asking her to ride with him. Propriety there dictates a man-at-arms and a maid for travel— not that Kathryna would even consider such things. "You are truly making this difficult." His voice drops; his words only for her. "I really do need to ride tonight. As much as I may wish to remain, I cannot."
"You don't. You wish to ride tonight out of some perceived emergency state. That if you do not go immediately, everything will change. But the world will be the same tomorrow. Trade will be trade. Information will not disappear into the ether. Perhaps you are riding because you fear the things you would learn here -would- change things. You fear pushing beyond your state of comfort and trained duty." Kate accuses him quietly, not stepping back in the least, though their hands brush slightly as she hands the reigns over in his direction.
She then sighs quietly and shakes her head, beginning to turn on the ball of her booted foot. "But I should not have expected more of you than I did of anyone in these lands. Tradition, habit and comfort are the name of the mainland folk, noble or not. I hope rushing off to trade negotiations is worth it." And, unless he moves to stop her, she will turn to depart and begin heading off.
Dafydd allows the lady her vent, his head canted as he studies her. His expression is set and determined, though not angry. If anything, perceived duty trumping his desires annoys him. There's no martyring there. There is also the fear that once he leaves, the Terricks will pull her in and there'll be nothing left to it.
She'll probably hold her anger with him, taking him to task should they see each other again.
"Tradition and duty, my lady. Trade negotiations will strengthen my home, just as your visit to the Roost will benefit your homeland. Where is the difference? You would not leave her until your duty was dispatched, so do not criticize mine."
Dafydd watches the beginning of her stalking off, and doesn't stop her. He can't.. or rather, won't. He can only hope that at one point, she'll understand. Or not.. and simply accept.
A good smirk dances across her lips, pale eyes rolling to the sky for a moment as Kate pauses in her retreat and debates the words that are lingering on her lips. She should stay here in an empty castle, waiting for nobles who may or may not return any time soon. She breathes out quietly andthen turns on the ball of her foot, staring back at him, "If you had asked for company on your journey, I would have ridden with you, Lord Dafydd. It's a new land. Other things to learn, good company and, as you said, possibly good trade. But I suspect deviating from your perfectly planned little life is completely unacceptable, so I wish you safe journeys." And with that, Kate bows her head and does fully turn to stalk off this time.