Lords of Darkness and Shadow (12 page)

With a sigh, she went back over to her pallet and lay down, trying to get comfortable with her bad shoulder. She still could not believe what he had said to her and that kiss… well, it had been everything a first kiss should have been; passionate, sweet, and overwhelmingly sexy. Just thinking about it made her feel weak. But perhaps she was asleep, dreaming everything that had happened. As she lay there and stared at the ceiling, she knew that she would be terribly disappointed if that was true.

Brandt de Russe, as she had noticed from the beginning of their association, was an enormous and handsome man, much more perfect than any man she had ever seen. To think that somehow, someway, she had endeared herself to him was astonishing. She had no idea how she had done it.

Whatever it was, she would have to keep doing it. Now that she had his attention, she most assuredly didn’t want to lose it.

CHAPTER TEN

Erith Castle was a massive two hundred year old bastion that had been built for Henry II.  It sat at the base of a range of mountains and protected the gap that led into an area of Cumbria that was heavy with ports along the western coast.  The castle had remained in royal hands for over one hundred years until it was given as a gift to Simon de Montfort when he married Eleanor, Henry’s granddaughter. After that, it had passed to their son, Richard, and then to his daughter, the Lady Gray de Montfort Serroux who had eventually married Braxton de Nerra.

Upon their marriage, De Nerra had given the castle to his step-daughter, Lady Gray’s daughter Brooke and her husband Sir Dallas Aston as a wedding gift, but Dallas returned the castle to Braxton when his eldest brother died and he inherited his father’s barony in Devon. That was how the castle came into the hands of Sir Deston de Nerra, Braxton and Gray’s eldest son, and it was this man who waited impatiently in the bailey as Brandt brought the man’s army home.

Deston wasn’t a particularly tall man, like his father, but he had a muscular and powerful build.  He had his mother’s amber-colored eyes, his father’s graying blond hair, but his personality was all de Nerra. He was aggressive, loud, passionate, highly intelligent, and lived for a good fight. However, a disease of the joints had hit him at a very young age, like his grandfather and one of his uncles, and his hands were so gnarled that he hadn’t been able to hold a sword in many years. Still, he had fists like hamhocks and could still ball one up to deliver a devastating punch.  When he saw Brandt ride into his bailey, he began to crow with delight.

“The great duke himself!” he yelled happily. “I see you survived your years in France!”

Brandt flipped up his visor, smiling at the loud man. He was glad to see him. Wearily, he dismounted and handed his snapping charger over to a soldier as Deston marched up and slapped him on his armored arm.

“You look whole enough,” Deston said with satisfaction.

Brandt pulled his helm off, peeling his hauberk off his wet black hair.  The army was trickling in after him, weary men kicking up the dust and dirt of the bailey, creating clouds of grit.

“I am, fortunately,” he replied, eyeing the worn army. “But it was not for their lack of trying. The French have been trying to kill me for years.”

Deston sized up the man he hadn’t seen in at least three years. He started to say something more but a woman on a palfrey caught his eye and he turned to see his daughter entering the gates.  Deston forgot all about Brandt and walked towards her, very quickly.

“Wynny!” he held up his hand in greeting.  When the palfrey came close, he reached up and grabbed his daughter right off of the horse. “My sweet little Pickle Snuff. Praise God you have arrived home safe and whole.”

Ellowyn let her father hug and kiss her, with the annoyed patience that children often show, before pulling away. “Dada, stop it,” she hissed at him. “I am fine. Do not paw over me like that. And do not call me Pickle Snuff!”

“Will you make the expression for me, please? I have missed it so.”

“Nay!”

Deston just grinned, not put off in the least. “I am happy to see you,” he said. “Your mother will be thrilled. But you were sent to bring my men home, not bring de Russe with you. He is a busy man with much to do; he is well out of his way up here at Erith.”

Ellowyn looked at Brandt. “He said he had business with you.”

Deston’s eyebrows flew up as he looked at Brandt, at least a head taller than he was. “Is that so?” he said. “Then I am honored. But first things first; how many men are you returning to me?”

“Five hundred and forty-eight,” Brandt replied. “Until four days ago, there were five hundred and sixty two but we ran into some trouble near Coventry. We were attacked and lost some men.”

Deston grew serious. “I see,” he said, looking at his daughter. “I am sorry to know that. Where was Wynny when this happened? Was she safe?”

“I was in the middle of it,” Ellowyn said before Brandt could reply. “I was hit with an arrow but Lord de Russe saved me. He was heroic, Dada, truly.”

Deston turned pale and his eyes widened. “Hit with a…?” He put his hand over his heart, unable to finish the sentence. “God’s Bones, Wynny, what happened? Where were you hit?”

Ellowyn put her hand on her father’s arm, patting him soothingly. “I was hit in the shoulder,” she said, pointing to the spot. “Truly, Dada, it was of no consequence. I am fine.”

Deston wasn’t over his fright. He looked straight at de Russe. “And you allowed her into mortal danger?” he boomed. “God’s Bones, man, what were you thinking?”

Ellowyn started to explain but Brandt cut her off; she had upset her father already with her casual telling of a near-death experience and he hastened to clean it up so that her father wouldn’t think him careless.

“Your daughter we well protected in the center of the column when we were attacked,” he explained succinctly. “The Welsh plowed into our column in the middle in an attempt to divide us, I would assume, and your daughter was struck in the initial wave. One of my knights carried her off to safety where she was initially tended, but later she was cared for by two nuns from Coventry. I assure you that she has been very well tended the entire time.”

Deston eyed him as if he didn’t believe him.  He still had his hand over his heart. “To think of my daughter, my precious child in danger, is horrifying to say the least,” he said, looking at Ellowyn. But then, he sighed. “I only wish I could have gone myself to London, but unfortunately, I cannot travel these days. The pain… it is too much. I had no choice but to send her.”

Brandt glanced at Ellowyn, his gaze warm. “She is as competent as she is fearless,” he told Deston. “You were wise to send her. She sought me out immediately and we made arrangements to bring your men back to Erith.”

Ellowyn shot him an expression when her father wasn’t looking, wondering why had concealed the truth of their first meeting so eloquently. Brandt winked at her.

“I have much faith in my daughter,” Deston said, hugging her again so that she grunted because he squeezed too hard. “We are very glad to have her returned. And you also, my lord.  Please come inside and we will discuss your business.”

Brandt nodded as he began to loosen his gauntlets. “In a moment,” he said. “I wish to settle my men first.”

Deston understood. He stood politely for a moment until one of his knights caught his attention and he excused himself.  Ellowyn collected her satchels from her saddles before a servant led her palfrey away, casually moving next to Brandt as the man focused on his men as they were settled in Erith’s enormous outer bailey.  His knights were yelling, animals were braying, and Brandt watched it all like a hawk.

“What business do you have with my father?” she asked.

Brandt didn’t look at her. “I have a question first.”

“What?”

“What is Pickle Snuff?”

Ellowyn rolled her eyes. “It is a nickname, from childhood,” she said. “If you call me that, I shall be furious with you, so you would do well to remember that.”

“I will.”

She eyed him. “Will you answer my question now?” she asked. “What business do you have with my father?”

“That is between Deston and me.”

She wasn’t offended; in fact, since they declared their interest in one another, the mood between them had been pleasant and, at times, sweet, which was made difficult due to the fact that they were traveling with a host of witnesses including Brandt’s very astute knights.  Brandt had kept a distance from her most of the time as she rode most with St. Hèver or Alex de Lara, but Ellowyn wasn’t particularly distressed by it. When they had been afforded a moment alone, Brandt had explained the need for discretion, at least until he could speak with Deston. She understood completely and she was thrilled. She still felt as if she was living some kind of wonderful and unexpected dream, for never in her life could she have imagined finding interest and affection with the mighty Duke of Exeter.

As she shifted her satchels to one hand, she looked up at him. “You have hardly spoken to me since the incident in Coventry,” she said quietly. “Will you please tell me what you are going to speak to my father about?”

“I told you why I have kept my distance.”

She turned to him fully. “Aye, you have,” she said, her big eyes swallowing him up. “But we are no longer traveling. There are no ears to hear us. Will you please speak with me now or have you changed your mind about me?”

He looked at her, puzzled. “Of course I have not changed my mind.”

“Then you intend to speak to my father about courting me?”

“About marrying you.”

A light of joy came to her eyes. She was trying very hard not to smile. “You are still so certain about it?”

“I am. Are you?”

She giggled. “I am, but only if you will swear you will not keep a distance from me in front of your men once we are married. I do not like not being able to speak with you whenever I please.”

He sighed faintly, the dark eyes glittering. “You make it seem as if it was easy for me to stay away,” he said softly. “It was not a simple thing, you know. I had to force myself every single minute to keep from rushing to your side.”

She was flirting with him by this time. “How flattering,” she murmured. “Tell me more.”

He fought off a grin and looked away. “I cannot.”

“Why?”

“Because I will turn into a giddy, silly fool right before your eyes and I do not wish for anyone to see that side of me in public.”

“But I would like to see it.”

“You shall, when we are alone. It is for your eyes only.”

She understood, but she was still flirting with him simply because it was humorous to see a man so big and powerful squirm uncomfortably.  It was a fresh, new, and fun game to play between them, and she relished in it.  Still, she did not want to be cruel so she mercifully changed the subject.

“I should go into the keep and see my mother now,” she said after a moment. “Will you miss me when I leave?”

“I miss you now.”

Her flirting softened. “As I miss you,” she said. “But we will see each other at sup. Do you intend to speak to my father before or after we eat?”

“As soon as I can.”

He dared to look at her and she smiled, blowing him a discreet kiss. “Good luck,” she whispered. “Until tonight, then.”

Brandt watched her walk across the bailey. In fact, he couldn’t look at anything else.  Her shapely back and luscious hair had his full attention. She had a way of moving that was fluid and lovely, and he had never been so entranced with anyone in his life. The kiss they had shared a few days ago was still as fresh and heated in his mind as if it had only just happened.  It made his heart light simply to watch her, in a way it had never been light before. Whatever magic Ellowyn had, he was fully under her spell.

“Until tonight, sweetheart,” he whispered to himself as he watched her go.

He made a vow at that moment that he was never, ever going to force himself to stay away from her again. From this day forward, they were joined at the hip.

He sincerely hoped Deston saw things his way.

***

Ellowyn’s mother, the Lady Annalora de Gare de Nerra, was a tall and elegant woman with blond hair and her daughter’s big green eyes. Personality-wise, she was much like her husband with loud laughter and a rather pushy manner, but she had a heart of gold and was much loved and respected. When she saw her daughter in the hall of Erith, speaking with her grandmother, Annalora rushed the woman and nearly knocked her over in her joy.  She hugged Ellowyn within an inch of her life.

“Wynny,” she sighed, squeezing. “You are home. Are you well, darling? Did the trip go well?”

Ellowyn didn’t mind being hugged by her mother because she had a much softer touch than Deston. She hugged her mother in return and kissed the woman on the cheek.

“It went very well,” she said. “In fact, it was wonderful.”

Annalora kissed her daughter on the forehead, smoothing her hair as she sat down on the bench beside her. In fact, the woman couldn’t keep her hands off her daughter, touching her shoulder, her arm, her back, as if to reassure herself that her child was well and whole.

“Wonderful?” Annalora repeated. “In what way?”

Ellowyn shrugged, though there was a faint grin on her face.  She glanced at her grandmother, sitting across the table from her.  The Lady Gray Serroux de Nerra gazed steadily at her granddaughter. 

“I am not entirely sure why Wynny’s trip was so wonderful,” she said. “She was about to tell me but we cannot get past the smile.”

Ellowyn lowered her head, grinning broadly. “It was a good trip,” she repeated, rather softly. “I returned with most of Papa’s men, and I also returned with the Duke of Exeter and his fine knights.”

That brought a reaction from Gray and Annalora. “The Duke of Exeter?” Annalora repeated. “I had no idea he had arrived with you.  We must make all due preparations for his arrival.”

With that, she began snapping orders to the servants who had been milling about the great hall. Annalora sent them scurrying with her specific commands for food, drink, and fresh rushes.  When half of the staff was in an uproar because of the arrival of the duke, Annalora returned her attention to her daughter.