Ria Cantrell - Celtic Storm 03 (8 page)

BOOK: Ria Cantrell - Celtic Storm 03
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After what seemed like an eternity, Rhianna felt suddenly weary to the bone. It had been a long night after all and a very trying morning. While she was not prone to napping during the day, her bed suddenly looked inviting. Perhaps if she rested a little while, she would be brave enough to face the Viking Scourge for the evening meal. Rhianna’s pride was kicking in and she remembered all too well how he had looked upon her with disgust. Alright, she must have been quite a sight indeed with her rumpled kirtle all muddied and sullied from her fall into the puddle. She
should
don a fine gown and show him just who du Montefort was!

For now, Rhianna really needed a rest. It was as if her anger had sapped the last of her strength and the events from the last night and morning had taken their final toll on her. Yes, she would rest for a short while and everything would be better. She climbed upon her bed and fell to sleep nearly as soon as her head rested on her pillow.

 

~~~~~

 

Erik made his way into the great hall. Already the trestle tables were being set up for the evening meal. His eyes scanned the bustling people for the girl, but he did not see anyone who could be her. He did not know exactly how she looked when she wasn’t caked in mud, but he remembered her height and the proud bearing in which she carried herself. Even covered in mud, she stood as if she was the queen of the land. Drew had said she was not a skittish dove and he had been right.
Haughty, yes. Defiant, definitely. Sharp of tongue, absolutely
. She may have had the bearing of a lady, but she had the mouth of a sailor; except of course, when he had kissed her. A small voice nagged at him and said,
nay, she had the lips of an angel
. Now he was being foolish. She was a rude bag of work. He would be wise to not forget it. He was going to have his hands full with her, no doubt. But even as these thoughts battled in his mind, his eyes continued to scan the faces of those in the feast hall to see if he could find her.

In Erik’s subconscious search for the girl, he did not miss the efficient way the place was being prepared for the meal. Nor did he miss the overall state of the keep. While it was smaller than Ragnorsen Keep, it was not in a state of disrepair. The bailey contained the out-buildings like the smithy, stables, feeder and armory. Then closer to the main entry, there was the granary and other small buildings that housed supplies. All the roofs were in good standing and none seemed to need repairs before the winter set in. Everything was in order for the upcoming harvest as well. Erik noticed the pristine way the main hall was kept. Two large fireplaces flanked either end of the hall. This was exactly how the main hall in his home was set up as well. The stone walls bore sconces, but there were not the usual scorch marks that formed above them from the tallow soot. In fact, Erik saw some young serving women scrubbing the areas above the sconces to assure no soot rested on the walls. He realized that this must be a daily task since the walls fairly gleamed. Fresh rushes were spread beneath the tables and their fragrance filled the hall.

Erik was starting to think that things were not as he had imagined them to be. Erik wanted to believe that he would find du Montefort Keep to be lacking; cloaked in squalor, disorganized and falling apart. He had wanted to wallow in his misery and he had imagined all sorts of foul things to meet him. Aside from the bowman lying in wait for them, Erik found that everything about du Montefort Keep was better than he had allowed his imagination to visualize. His own chambers were spacious and comfortably appointed with a large bed, an ample hearth for warmth, and an enormous trunk at the foot of his bed for his personal belongings. There was a bedside table that hosted an oil lamp and a pitcher and basin for his washing needs. At the far end of the room, a table had been prepared with a flagon of mead and a light repast of bread and cheese for his consumption while he changed and refreshed himself from the grime of the road. While it wasn’t the master’s chambers, it was comfortable and spotless. The bedding was freshly laundered and the oil lamp recently had been trimmed. Nothing was lacking. He supposed that once he married the girl, he would be granted the master suite, but for now, he was satisfied and well pleased with his accommodations.

Once more, Erik’s eyes roved about the hall to see if he spied the girl, only he did not seem to find her among the throng of people moving about. He turned to see Drew walking with the old woman who had initially greeted them, on his arm. For a moment, Erik shuddered in revulsion when he thought that old lady was going to be his bride. Had he ever been wrong about that!

Erik painted a smile on his face and he bowed before her.

“My Lady,” he said in greeting. The old woman tapped him on the arm and she said, “Sir Erik, if you please, I am not the lady of this keep. I am just the old chatelaine.”

Even though it was so, Erik could see she had some weight among the staff. He suspected she was more like a grandmother of sorts to his intended and therefore, she deserved a different level of respect; more so than just a servant of the keep. Taking the old woman’s hand to his lips, he gave it the most chivalrous kiss.

“My lady, your age demands my respect alone. Besides, you have been most courteous to me and my men. Our accommodations are quite sufficient and beyond expectation.”

Andarra smiled and she said, “I am glad you find du Montefort Keep satisfactory, sir.”

“Aye, what I have seen thus far has been quite impressive.”

“The Mistress prides herself in the overseeing of the keep. We are happy to oblige her, for her rewards are plentiful to those of us who serve du Montefort.”

“Speaking of which, where is the
lady
? I fear we have gotten off to a very bad start and I was hoping the evening meal would offer me a chance to begin anew.”

A frown creased the old woman’s brow and Erik could see she did not want to answer, but finally she said, “Sir Erik, when I left her, she said she was in need of rest. I have not seen her since, I’m afraid.”

Erik’s mouth set in a grim line and he answered, “I see. She does not think it proper to sit with guests…”

Andarra hastily came to her lady’s defense and she said, “It is not what you think, Sir. I admit that her behavior this morning was most ungracious, but I do believe she was telling the truth.”

Erik nodded briefly. He thought that the Lady Rhianna must be likened to a very spoiled child and a slothful one at that. The old woman’s faded brown eyes raised to the stormy angry sea-blue ones of the handsome knight before her. As if she had read his thoughts, she answered, “I would beg you, Sir, not to judge her too harshly. I agree she may have not made the best first impression and for that I am truly sorry. She has been left to her own devices quite a long time and for one so young, she and her brother have allowed this demesne to thrive. She is not a pampered girl, I can attest. She had been in the village most of the night.”

“Yes, so I saw,” Erik said with distaste at the memory of her squalid appearance at the side of the road.

“Sir Erik, I implore you. I know her behavior has not been biddable, but…you should know….”

Andarra did not want to tell Erik everything for she did not want to seem to plead too vehemently for Rhianna. She did not want Erik to think Rhianna was in a desperate situation to marry, but Andarra felt she needed to paint her precious Rhianna in a better light.

“What, my lady? What should I know about the lady’s reason for not being chaperoned in the village all night?”

Lifting her chin a little, Andarra replied, “She was tending to a sick child. What did you think she was there for?”

Andarra would not have this man thinking vile things about Rhianna’s character and it was clear that he inferred he thought she was up to illicit behavior.

Erick felt the wind get kicked out of him for the second time that day.
Sick child?
Andarra no longer looked like the friendly and doting chatelaine. She pinned Erik with a stare of conviction for his unspoken accusation against the moral character of Lady Rhianna. Erik felt his resolve falter and he said, “I know not why a lass would be unescorted in the middle of the night, for clearly she
was
there all night since I saw her at dawn’s light this morning.”

“She was escorted, Sir. By the father of the young child who was deathly ill. My lady was woken from her bed to go to the village to see to the little girl.”

“She tends the ill? Does she do this sort of thing often?”

“Often enough.”

“Then, she is a healer. I had heard that she was …” Erik stopped the words before they left his lips.

“A witch? You see you would not be the first to call her that.”

Andarra did not want to say that those accusations hurt her mistress to the core of her being. She did not want this man, who had judged her unworthy, to know that Rhianna’s tender heart had been torn so many times in her young life. All of a sudden, she resented his judgment of Rhianna and, for that matter, of them all. Instead, Andarra said, “Lady Rhianna is skilled with herbs. She has a way about her that people seek out to aid them in their suffering. And never have I known her to deny them…no matter what the cost to her. I know you have been given the worst impression of my lady, but I would not have you think vile things about her. She is neither a witch nor a harlot, Sir.”

Andarra refrained from mentioning that Rhianna had shown signs of having the Sight as well. There were some things that Erik would have to learn on his own. Besides, he looked well chastised at the moment. Abashedly, he followed the elderly woman to the table. She stiffly said, “Come dine, Sir. She may yet come to table.”

But dinner was done and the plates cleared with no sign of Lady Rhianna showing up in the hall. Erik was not entirely convinced her absence was not deliberate. Still he could not conceal his pride at learning of her work with the ill and injured. He could see she was well-loved, even if she was over-indulged. That love fostered pride to swell in his breast. He suddenly realized he wanted to learn more about the puzzling enigma that was to be his wife.

 

~Chapter Twelve~

 

Rhianna woke to a loud pounding on her chamber door. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she scrambled out of her bed. The floor was cold. No fire warmed her hearth and she remembered she had barred the door from the inside. Still the room should not be so cold. She had only been napping a short time, hadn’t she? She threw on a dressing gown and slid the bar from the latch to open the heavy door. One of the maids stood at the entry.

“My lady, are you ill? We were fair worried about you.”

“Worried, why?”

“You never touched your supper last night and you failed to break your fast this morning. Your door was barred, so we could not light the fire and you missed morning vespers.”

Rhianna shook her head, confused. She looked toward the window and saw light streaming in from the middle of the shutters, which appeared brighter than dawn’s first rays.

“What hour is it?”

“T’is midmorning, my lady. Are you ill,” the maid repeated.

“Nay, I am fine. I just over-slept. Tell everyone concerned that I will be down shortly. I had not meant to worry anyone.”

“Shall I bring you something to break your fast?”

“No, that will not be necessary. I will take something to eat from the kitchens. I must get back to the village to check on Hildie’s little girl. Thank you, Maeve, for your concern.” 

The maid picked up the tray that had been left on Rhianna’s threshold and left the mistress of the keep to tend to her morning ablutions. Rhianna chided herself for missing morning vespers. She never missed the Daily Office, so she said some quick prayers to start her day, instead. She then made haste to make up for the time she had already lost. Rhianna had momentarily put her unwanted guest out of her mind. She had important business to attend to and she had to see how the child fared this day. She would need to replenish her supplies as well.

After she washed, she donned a gown of soft woolen crepe in a rich green shade known in those parts as Lincoln green. It was adorned with gold embroidered braiding around the full sweeping skirt as well as around the bands that circled just above each elbow and matching the design around the neckline. It was not her most fancy gown, but it was not the most plain either. Attaching a metal girdle around her waist, Rhianna fastened it so it sat low on her hips in the fashion of the day. She combed through her thick, ebony waist-long locks, releasing any snarls that may have formed when she slept. Rhianna did not bind or veil her hair, nor did she don a wimple. That headdress always left her feeling dowdy and old. Rhianna knew that most ladies had servants to help them dress, but she preferred to tend to her own dressing habits. She had always felt it was a little too self-indulgent to use the services of people best used to do other tasks required around the keep and outlying lands.

After plaiting two braids down the side of her face, she tied them off with a bit of green ribbon. She could sweep those thin braids back behind her head later if she wished to tie them from her face while she worked, but for now, she left the rest of her hair loose. It spilled down her back without so much of a curl and it fairly shone like glass after she had combed it.

She adjusted the metal girdle and she left her chambers. As she made her way down the stone stairs, Rhianna stopped midway.
He
was there at the bottom gazing up at her with a look of astonishment. She wanted to run back up to her bed chamber, but instead, she forced her feet forward, willing herself to move further down the steps. He had a strange look on his face. He no longer looked fierce and ready to do battle. He may have even been smiling a little. Rhianna had not planned to look her best on purpose, but she was actually glad that she had taken a little extra time to assure a better appearance than the one Sir Erik first encountered. It was not a conscious thought…at least not one she would ever admit. Rhianna felt heat rise in her cheeks as his gaze rested on her. She told herself it was because she was embarrassed for oversleeping.

BOOK: Ria Cantrell - Celtic Storm 03
10.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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