Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (31 page)

Like any husband, her tears undid
him. “It is not,” he assured her softly. “I will buy you whatever you wish, I
swear it.”

The tears disappeared and the sun
came out from behind the clouds as she turned her bright smile up to him.
“Truly?”

Kurtis wasn’t a fool. He could
see that he had just been grandly manipulated and he cocked a disapproving
eyebrow at her.

“Truly,” he said begrudgingly.

Cassandra happily hugged him as
Chloë snickered softly at her conniving sister.  Outside, they could hear
alerts from the sentries high on the walls and Chloë, curious, went to the
lancet window to see what the commotion was about because Kurtis was being
joyfully strangled by her sister and could not see for himself.  Aysgarth’s
great gates were open and there was much activity on the gatehouse. She could
see a rider passing beneath the portcullis being swarmed by Coverdale soldiers
but it was relatively uninteresting so she turned away from the window and back
to the last of her packing.

“What do you see?” Kurtis asked,
his mouth partially muffled because Cassandra’s arms were around his neck and
her face was pressed up against his.

Chloë fiddled around with a few
belts on the bed. “I cannot tell,” she shrugged. “A rider, I think. The
portcullis was up.”

Kurtis moved to the window with
his wife wrapped up around him.  He had his arms around her as he peered from
the window while Cassandra peppered his rough cheek with kisses.

“Hmmm,” he grunted as his spied
the rider. “No colors. I wonder who it is?”

“Kurtis,” Chloë said casually
from her position over near the bed. “I do not think the oils and soaps will serve
me very long at Pendragon. Will you buy me some more, also?”

Kurtis looked over at her. “I
will not,” he said flatly. “My brother is wealthier than I am. Let him buy them
for you.”

Chloë bit her lip to keep from
giggling. “But that is not fair,” she insisted. “Keir would buy them for
Cassandra if she asked. Why will you not buy them for me as well?”

Kurtis could see the twinkle in
her eye, realizing she was more than likely teasing him. But he could not be
sure. He didn’t know the woman that well to know for certain. In case she
wasn’t, he thought it best to leave the room before he was cornered by the both
Chloë and Cassandra and ended up in the poor house.

“My lady, I would kill or die for
you,” he said as he moved towards the chamber door with Cassandra still in his
arms. “I would do anything in the world for you. But I will not buy you excess
that you do not need.”

“How do you know I do not need
it?”

“If you do not stop harassing me,
I am going to write my brother and ask for permission to spank you.”

Chloë burst out into laughter and
collected the nearest belt, snapping it at him. “Is that so?” she threatened.
“Your brother is far away and unable to help you. I will have Cassandra hold
you down while I spank you myself and call it self-defense.”

Cassandra started to giggle and
Kurtis peeled her hands off him, moving for the door. “You will have to catch
me first.”

The women squealed as they bolted
after him, Chloë leaping over the bed to block his path to the door.  But
Kurtis was fast and he made it to the door before she did, yanking open the
panel and then slamming it shut to prevent them from following. He held the
door fast, grinning as they yelled at him from the other side of the door,
banging on it and demanding he open it.

“Are you still going to spank
me?” he called to them.

“I am going to beat you within an
inch of your life and take all of your money!” Chloë yelled. “We shall leave
your carcass for the dogs!”

“Then I am not opening the door.”

He laughed softly as the women
kicked the door and tried to pull it open.  Finally, he let it go and raced
down the stairs, listening to the women as they yanked the door open and began
to pursue.  By the time Kurtis hit the first floor of the keep, he was laughing
so hard he could hardly run.  Chloë barreled down the stairs right behind him,
laughing and swinging a heavy copper belt at him.  Kurtis broke through the
entry door and raced down the wooden steps into the bailey, almost tripping at
the bottom in his haste to get away from them.

“I will tell my brother what you
are doing and you will be sorry,” he threatened as he dodged Chloë’s swinging
belt. “I will tell him what a mean woman you are.”

Chloë laughed and half-heartedly
swung the belt at his head. “Give me your money, St. Hèver,” she demanded.
“Surrender!”

Kurtis dodged Cassandra as she
came at him with another belt with heavy tassels on the end. “Never,” he
announced. “You evil wenches, go away from me.”

Chloë and Cassandra were laughing
uproariously.  Kurtis was so out of breath from laughing that he couldn’t go
much further. Eventually, he grabbed his wife and pinned her arms, planting a
warm and delicious kiss on her mouth.  Chloë watched the pair, her laughter
fading as it reminded her of Keir to watch the affection between them, and her good
mood dampened. Lowering the belt, she struggled against the sadness that
threatened to swamp her.  As Cassandra and Kurtis lost themselves in sweet
kisses and giggles, she turned away only to run head-long in to Michael.

He grabbed her by the arms to steady
her as she bashed in to him.  As Chloë looked up to apologize, the words died
in her throat at the expression on Michael’s face.

“Michael?” she asked, concerned.
“What is wrong? Why do you look so?”

Michael let go of her once she
had her balance. “A missive arrived for Keir,” he told her. “You had better
come.”

She cocked her head curiously. “A
missive? From who?”

Michael didn’t soften the blow.
“From Ingilby.  Coverdale has the missive and he is in his solar.”

Chloë felt as if she had been
struck.  For a moment, her balance left her and she reached out, grasping
Michael so she wouldn’t topple over.  Her face was a mask of shock.

“Ingilby?” she gasped. “Why on
earth would he send Keir a missive?”

Michael could only shake his
head, taking her hand as he began to lead her back towards the keep. “I do not
know,” he said honestly. “But Lord Byron has asked that I bring you. What
concerns Keir more than likely concerns you, especially if it is from Ingilby.”

Chloë followed him on shaking
legs, trying to come to terms with the astonishing happenstance. “This makes no
sense. Why would Ingilby do this? And how did he even know that Keir was at
Aysgarth?”

“We will soon find out.”

Chloë wasn’t satisfied with that
answer and her mind began whirling with possibilities as the shock began to
wear off. 

“None of this makes any sense,”
she said, growing increasingly worried. “He must know that Keir threatened him
if he ever tried to contact me again. When Keir saved us from Exelby, Keir told
one of Ingilby’s soldiers that Ingilby would have to personally answer to him
if he ever made another move against me. Do you suppose that Ingilby is
threatening Keir in return?”

They were moving swiftly across
the bailey, unaware that Kurtis and Cassandra were following. Kurtis had seen
the expression on Michael’s face and the instant shock on Chloë’s, and
correctly assumed that something was amiss.  His intuition told him to follow. 

Chloë was obviously to Kurtis on
her heels as she looked up at Michael, expecting an answer to her question. 
The big knight was stoic but obviously concerned.

“He would be a fool to do so and
bring the threat of Coverdale down around him,” Michael replied. “Whatever it
is, we shall know soon enough.”

There wasn’t much Chloë could say
to that so she clamped her mouth shut, following Michael into the big, cool
keep and into the first floor solar that belonged to Lord Byron.  It was lavish
and comfortable, and displayed the wealth of the Coverdale dynasty with its fur
rugs and silver plate on the hearth. Coverdale’s big gray dogs lounged near the
fire. By the time Michael pulled Chloë into the room, her legs were shaking so
badly that she could hardly stand.

Byron was at his big table,
carefully inspecting the seal on a large piece of vellum in his hand.  There
were four soldiers in the room and an unarmed man Chloë didn’t recognize
standing in the midst of them.  Chloë’s eyes fell on the man, tall and dark and
swarthy, and already she didn’t like the look of him. She didn’t even have to
ask if the man was from Ingilby; she already knew. He had that smell about him.
She made sure to stay close to Michael and his enormous, protective presence.

Byron glanced up when Michael and
Chloë entered the room.  He waved the missive at her. “My lady,” he said. “It
would seem that Lord Ingilby has sent a missive for Keir. I have told his
messenger that Keir is on the Welsh border and the man has insisted I read the
missive to you. I have sent for your father.”

Chloë’s heart began to beat
painfully against her ribs, her mouth gone dry with fear.  “You told Ingilby’s
messenger I was here?” she nearly demanded. “Why did you tell him?”

Coverdale didn’t seem concerned.
“He cannot hurt you, my lady. There is no need to fear.”

Chloë wasn’t convinced and was
more than uncomfortable that Coverdale had divulged her whereabouts to the
messenger, who would undoubtedly return to Ingilby with the news.  With Keir
away, she felt vulnerable and afraid. She looked to the messenger, his dark and
sweaty face, and resisted the urge to lash out at him. 

“What could Ingilby possibly have
to say to Keir?” she hissed. “What is this madness?”

Alphonse was Ingilby’s messenger.
He took a long, hard look at the Lady Chloë de Geld and was not disappointed. 
He’d never truly seen the woman, not in the entire year he had served Ingilby,
and he could instantly see what had Ingilby so smitten.  He’d never seen a
lovelier woman and for a moment, he was actually speechless as he gazed upon
her angelic face.  She was indeed a goddess.

“Lord Ingilby received the
wedding announcement for your nuptials with Sir Keir St. Hèver,” he said in his
heavy Spanish accent. “Since Sir Keir serves Coverdale, Lord Ingilby has sent a
missive of his own to the prospective groom.”

By this time, Kurtis had put
himself between Michael and Chloë, his big body tense as he sized up Alphonse. 

“I am Kurtis St. Hèver, Keir’s
brother,” he told him in a deep and growling tone. “I will make any decisions
regarding the Lady Chloë in his stead and at this moment, I would have her
removed from the room. Whatever Ingilby has to say, I will hear it first before
deeming if it is suitable for Lady Chloë’s ears. She does need to be upset or
harassed by a man who only recently burned her home.”

Alphonse met Kurtis’ challenging
gaze. “Hear it, then,” he invited. “You may all hear it. It is no secret and I
promise you, Sir Kurtis, that Lady Chloë will want to hear this as it pertains
to her betrothed.”

“’Tis all right, Kurtis,” Chloë
reassured him. “I will hear whatever must be said. If it pertains to Keir, then
I must.”

Kurtis didn’t like the sound of
that at all but he didn’t let his thoughts show.  He maintained his hostile
posture as Coverdale broke the seal on the missive and carefully unrolled it. 
All eyes turned to Byron expectantly as the man flattened out the vellum,
brought forth another taper for more light, and began to read.

Byron read slowly.  He read the
first few sentences, grunting and shaking his head, until coming to the mid
portion of the vellum sheet.  Then, his eyes widened and he looked to Alphonse
in utter outrage.  His mouth worked and sweat popped out on his forehead, but
he refrained from speaking, instead returning to the vellum and reading it to
the very end.  By the time he finished, his rough old hands were quivering.

Meanwhile, Chloë watched the man,
slowly dying inside.  She was quaking so badly that she eventually had to grasp
Michael’s arm to keep from falling.  Cassandra had come up beside her, grasping
her arm and putting a hand on her waist in mute support.  Chloë was afraid to
look at her sister, afraid she would start weeping if she did.  It was easier
to remain strong if she did not look at the worried expressions around her. 
Based on Coverdale’s demeanor, she was terrified.

“God’s Teeth,” Coverdale finally
hissed as he laid the vellum to the rough table top.  He looked at Alphonse in
a beseeching manner. “Is this true?”

Alphonse nodded firmly. “It is,
my lord.”

Coverdale’s brown eyes lingered
on the Spaniard for a long, volatile moment before returning his gaze to the
vellum.  He read it again and shook his head when he was finished. His shock,
his disgust, was evident.

“If he is lying, I will kill him
myself,” Byron said sincerely.  “I swear by all that is holy, Ingilby will not
live to see another day if he is lying about this.”

Alphonse maintained his steady
stance. “He is not lying, my lord.”

With that, Coverdale let out a
heavy sigh.  He couldn’t even look at Chloë, still staring at the vellum as he
spoke.