Jamison shrugged, his gaze moving around the vast inner bailey. “I’d hoped tae learn of yer Welsh neighbors,” he said, turning on a bit of his natural charm. “I am expected tae lead fighting men but I dunna know much of the area. I was hoping ye could tell me. Do ye have any Welsh neighbors that ye’re friendly with? There are things only ye can tell me and since yer father has made himself scarce, then I need tae learn them from ye. Unless ye’ll permit me tae speak wit’ yer father.”
Havilland’s gaze lingered on him. He had a point and a very good one. He could learn a lot from her about Four Crosses and the surrounding area, and she certainly had no intention of letting him speak with her father. She supposed there was very much a necessity to speak with someone and that someone needed to be her. Her need to resist him was softening.
With a faint sigh, she lowered her gaze and walked past him, heading for the hall. Jamison, however, didn’t move; he just watched her walk away until she suddenly came to a halt and turned to him.
“Well?” she said. “Are you coming? I thought you wanted to break your fast.”
Fighting off a victorious grin, Jamison followed.
There were still wounded in the hall, crowded back into a warm corner as the hearth blazed furiously. Dogs slept on the warm stones before the blaze and under the tables as Havilland led Jamison to the end of the big feasting table. The rough surface, old and with splinters, had seen generations of de Llions. Havilland sent one of the servants for food for him before silently indicating for Jamison to sit. He did before she followed suit.
“We have never been particularly friendly with our neighbors,” Havilland said, seated on the very end of the table as he sat on the right corner. “Lord Preece is the closest. He lives about a morning’s ride away at a place called Elinog. He is not violent against us but he is also not particularly friendly. Years ago, our families were friendlier and I believe Madeline and Amaline still speak with Lord Preece’s children, but I do not. He has two sons and a daughter.”
“And ye dunna know the sons? Are they men grown or children?”
“Men grown,” she replied. “We exist alongside the family but nothing more.”
Jamison was listening with interested. “Do ye believe Lord Preece or his sons were part of the Welsh army that attacked Four Crosses?”
Havilland shrugged. “It is possible,” she said, “although Lord Preece has never been aggressive against us.”
Jamison pondered that. “We believe that those who attacked you are Welsh rebels belonging tae Madog or his sons,” he said. “Ye’ve never known yer neighbors tae be part of these attacks?”
She shook her head. “Not that we have seen,” she said. “My father has managed to keep peace with most of our neighbors and even though we are not exactly allies, they do not harass us.”
He thought on that information for a moment. “It must seem strange tae live in a land where yer neighbors are of a different breed.”
A faint smile creased her lips but it was not one of humor; it was irony. “I have lived in Wales my entire life, but I am not Welsh, nor is my father or sisters,” she said. “The Welsh look at Four Crosses as a structure that belongs to them and must be purged of the English that possess it. The attack on us a few days ago was only one in a long line of many. You simply have not been around long enough to see everything we have gone through over the years. Were our neighbors part of that attack? Probably not. But they would not rush to our aid to help us if that was your thought.”
Jamison shook his head. “It wasna a thought, in fact,” he said. “Ye say the attack was one in a long line of many. De Lohr told me the same thing.”
“It is true.”
A servant brought a tray with bread, cheese, and a steaming bowl of gruel. Jamison politely offered his food to Havilland first, purely out of courtesy, but when she refused, he plowed into it with gusto.
“Is there a pattern tae these attacks, then?” he asked, mouth full. “Do they come regularly?”
Havilland watched him eat. “Not really,” she said, studying the lines of his handsome face and realizing with increasing certainty that her interest in the man had not abated. “We have been bombarded badly over the past few months but there is no real pattern to them. They attack for a few days and damage us just enough. Then they retreat and return again a week or two later.”
Jamison took a big drink of his watered wine, smacking his lips. “Have ye sent scouts tae follow them tae see where they go?”
“Not lately,” she replied. “We do not have enough men to lose them so easily.”
He looked at her. “Have ye lost patrols, then?”
She nodded. “Aye,” she said. Then, she exhaled sharply, as if somehow baffled or annoyed. “Since you are asking about recent attacks, I will tell you honestly that I believe we may have a spy within our ranks. Months ago, I was able to send out regular patrols but then the most recent series of attacks happened. I would send out patrols to assess the enemy, but I lost patrol after patrol. It was as if… as if they knew we were coming. I lost eleven men before I finally stopped sending out patrols. Now, we sit here dumb and blind, waiting for the next attack to happen.”
Jamison was listening with great interest. Now, they were starting to get somewhere. Random and vicious attacks against a castle made no sense, but now… was there a spy among them? And was there more of a purpose than simply purging the English from Wales?
“What does yer father say tae all of this?” he asked. “From what I understand, he is a seasoned knight. Surely he must have some thoughts about it.”
He couldn’t help but notice her expression changed drastically when he mentioned her father. She seemed to take on an edgy appearance, unable to look him in the eye.
“I am not entirely sure,” she said, averting her gaze. “My father… he has been quite ill, you see, and my sisters and I do our best to keep our worries from him. We fear for his health. He will try to do too much if he knows all that is happening.”
She was speaking on her elusive father and Jamison thought to take advantage of it. He could be quite gentle and sympathetic when he wanted to be and he’d never had a lady deny him anything he wanted to know. However, he knew Havilland was different. She didn’t seem to think like any of the women he’d known and she certainly didn’t act like any he’d known. She was strong and brave and intelligent to a fault. He couldn’t imagine she would be easily manipulated. Therefore, he had to treat her very carefully. He liked talking to her and he didn’t want to lose the rapport they’d established. He moved forward carefully.
“I am sorry tae hear yer father is so ill,” he said quietly. “I can understand that ye wish tae protect him. I had a grandfather years ago, when I was very young, who was ill most o’ the time. Me da told me that his father used tae be a great warrior but I only knew him as a sick old man. He had a sickness of the body that affected his mind. He would sneak out at night and return tae the sod home he was born in, which would have been well enough had it not partially collapsed. We would have tae go after him and drag him back home. Sweet Jesú, he would scream as if we were killin’ him. We’d put him tae bed but he would sneak out again the next night. Sometimes sick men dunna know just how sick they are.”
Havilland was watching him as he spoke, feeling herself warm to the conversation. He was telling her something personal about himself and it endeared him to her, just a bit, even though she had no idea that his confession was calculated. She simply thought it was rather sweet that he should tell her.
“My father can be difficult, too,” she said. “How long ago did your grandfather pass away?”
“Twelve years,” he said. “It seems like ages ago now. What seems tae be yer father’s affliction?”
They were back on the subject of her father again. It was a dangerous subject to be on, a slippery slope of secrets that she didn’t want to start down. Once down that path, it would be very easy to reveal too much. But the truth was that Jamison was quite easy to speak with
. She liked it. Her interest in the man, something she had tried desperately to shake, was now becoming an unbreakable thing because he was difficult to resist. He was kind and handsome and powerful. Still, her last threads of common sense screamed at her.
Do not give away too much!
“His body has simply given out,” she said generically. “My father was a very diligent man and an excellent knight. He is old and his body has simply given out.”
Jamison was sympathetic. “I understand,” he said, “but if ye allow me a few moments of his time, I promise I wouldna overtax him.”
Havilland shook her head, looking to her lap. “It is impossible,” she said. “He would not want for men to see what he has become. He would be ashamed.”
“Is that why ye dunna allow the de Lohr to see him?”
“Aye.”
Jamison wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t telling him the complete truth, in fact. For a great knight to be seen as a cripple, or worse, was the worst fate he could imagine. “But ye see him,” he pointed out gently. “He doesna mind if ye see him?”
She kept her gaze on her lap, thinking of her once-strong father. It hurt her to see what he’d become. “I have to make sure he is taken care of,” she said simply.
Jamison could see by her expression that there was something far more troubling about her father than she was letting on. Perhaps the man was, indeed, dead as Thad and Brend had speculated. He was just opening his mouth to reply when a familiar face suddenly entered the hall. Jamison found himself looking at Thad as Thad looked at Havilland.
“Lady Havilland,” he said pleasantly. “We have been looking for you. You and your sisters have been scarce as of late.”
Havilland looked up at Thad with something that looked like annoyance. She didn’t seem all that happy to see him. “We have been busy,” she said.
It wasn’t much of an answer and Thad grinned that big, toothy de Lohr smile, looking between Havilland and Jamison. “I see that Jamie was able to finally corner you,” he said, helping himself to a seat beside Havilland on the bench and causing the woman to scoot a couple of arm length’s away from him. “We have been wondering why you do not send out patrols now that the Welsh have retreated. Has Jamie asked you about that yet?”
Jamison spoke before Havilland could. “The lady and I have already covered that,” he said, not at all pleased that Thad was interrupting his time with Havilland. “She has explained tae me her reasoning but I think, as of today, we are going tae resume patrols. Will you see tae this, Thad? Random patrols at random hours. The lady has said we are sitting here dumb and blind tae the activities around us. Ye must change that.”
Thad cocked his head, seemingly confused. “’Tis as I said, too,” he insisted. “The Welsh could be amassing over the next hill but we would not see them until it was too late. Patrols are essential.”
Jamison cocked a red eyebrow at him. “Then see tae it.”
Thad was coming to sense that he wasn’t wanted here but he was resistant to leave. He had shaved and combed much like Jamison had and he wasn’t ready to leave Havilland’s presence yet. Big-breasted and long-legged beneath that tunic….
“I will,” Thad said, looking to the food on the table and helping himself to the bread there. “But I have not yet broken my fast. Lady Havilland, would you be so kind as to regale us with stories of life here at Four Crosses as of late? Life when the Welsh were not attacking, of course. What do you and your lovely sisters do to keep yourselves occupied? It has been a long time since last I saw you and I want to know everything.”
Jamison rolled his eyes at the question. He knew that now, for certain, Havilland would run off and he could only imagine how she would avoid him the next time he saw her. Nothing was worse than inane conversation. In fact, he didn’t even let Havilland answer. He yanked the tray of food out of Thad’s reach.
“Find yer own meal,” he growled. “And go away. The lady and I are having a conversation that doesna involve ye.”
Thad’s dark eyes narrowed, seeing that he was clearly being chased way. “If it pertains to the operation of Four Crosses, then I should hear it as well. We all should.”
“I told ye tae leave.”
“Not until I am ready.”
Jamison stood up swiftly, slapping the tabletop as he did and causing Thad to leap out of his seat at the sharp sound and abrupt movement. The young knight was fearful that Jamison was about to reach out and throttle him so he scrambled to get away, tripping over his own feet in the process. He fell to his knees as Havilland burst out laughing, her sweet laughter chiming through the warm, smoky air as Thad, embarrassed and insulted, tried to appear as if he hadn’t meant to slip. His mouth was still full of bread as he backed away from the table.
“I am going now,” he said to Jamison, “but not because you ordered me, do you hear? I am not going because you told me to!”
Jamison remained on his feet, standing every inch of his considerable height, his dark blue eyes glaring at Thad until the knight made his way from the hall. He meandered a bit as if to prove that Jamison couldn’t order him around, but the truth was that he was frightened of Jamison. He’d seen what the man was capable of in battle and he had a temper that was not to be trifled with. By the time he was gone and Jamison sat back down to face Havilland, he looked over to see that she was still laughing. He grinned.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded without force.
Havilland shook her head. “Is that how you command your men? By intimidation?”
He wriggled his eyebrows ironically. “It works,” he said, watching her as she continued to giggle. He would have said anything just to keep her laughing because he adored the sight of her smile. “It works with the de Lohr brothers, at least, because they are afraid I’m going tae tie them up and beat them with a stick. But me preferred method of control is respect. I’d rather have men obey me because they love me, not because they fear me.”
Havilland had stopped giggling by the time he was done. “You and my father have the same philosophy,” she said, a glimmer of admiration in her eyes. “He always said a man’s respect is worth more than all of the gold in the world.”
“’Tis true. If ye dunna have a man’s respect, ye have nothing.”
Havilland continued to look at him, a far cry from the woman who was trying so hard to get away from him only minutes before. Now, she seemed very interested in speaking with him.
“I saw how you were with your men last night,” she said. “It is clear that you have their love and respect. That is difficult to earn which tells me that you have worked hard to attain it.”
He shrugged, oddly modest about it. “I have done what I felt was right,” he said. “I treat men fairly and honestly. That is more than some men do.”
She liked his answer. “Tobias told me that you are known as The Red Lion,” she said. “How did you get that name?”
He lifted his big shoulders. “From the color of me hair,” he said, watching her smile at the obvious. “And for the fact that in battle, I have been known tae roar. I do what is necessary tae win.”
More and more, Havilland realized she was coming to be enamored with him and had no way to stop it. Now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. The interest in him that she had feared had turned into something much greater than she could control.
“You come from a great line of warriors?” she asked.
He nodded. “Me da is the Munro,” he said, seeing her curious response to that statement. He grinned. “That means he is the chief o’ my clan. I come from a long line of chiefs, of great warriors. It is my destiny tae be as I am, tae be who I am. Me mother was born a Sutherland, a very great clan, indeed. I have greatness on both sides of me parentage.”
Havilland was swept up in the conversation now. “Will you be chief someday?”
Jamison shook his head. “That honor will go to me brother, George,” he said. “I am the second son, but I have lands and a place of me own. Me da gave
me a small tower when I was knighted and I have lands that the tower governs. I also have twenty-five warriors that belong tae me, men who serve me da. When I return home, I will go tae me lands and take the men with me.”
Havilland didn’t much like the sound of him going home. “When are you returning home?”
The warmth from his expression faded. “I dunna know,” he said hesitantly. “I… well, the truth is that I killed a man defending me brother and I’m sure the family of the man is out for me blood. That’s why me da sent me back tae de Lohr recently, tae escape their wrath. So I dunna know when I can go home, only I hope it is soon.”
She sensed wistfulness in his tone. “You miss Scotland?”
He nodded. “I do,” he said. “I was away from home for a very long time and only returned last year. I miss the land, me family… I miss everything.”
Havilland sat a moment, digesting his words. There was a great deal to ponder in what they were discussing. “I can tell that you love the place of your birth,” she said. “I have often wondered what that would be like. I told you that I was born in Wales but I am not Welsh, and that is true. I have always felt like a stranger in the land of my birth. I cannot say I would miss this place if I ever left it.”
“Have you ever left it?”
She shook her head. “Never,” she said. “I have been as far as Gloucester and that is all. I have never even been to London.”
His eyes took on a faint glimmer. “And I have been many places,” he said, “but there is nothing so wonderful as being home again. Ye wouldna know that because ye’ve never been away from home, but ye might miss it if ye had been away for a time.”
Havilland shrugged, looking to her lap. “I would like the opportunity to know that for myself.”
“Then ye have dreams of traveling, do ye?”
She lifted her shoulders, a weak gesture. “I have always wanted to go to Paris,” she said. “Do you recall I asked you about it? That the streets are paved in gold?”
He nodded. “I remember,” he said, thinking that he’d take her all over the world if she would only ask him. He was coming to realized he would do almost anything she asked of him. She was a rather defensive young woman but he could see that, below the surface, she was curious and bright and sweet. He liked her sense of humor. Good Christ, he could have stared at that smile all day. “If ye want tae travel, then I will make ye a promise – the next time I go tae Paris, I will ask yer father if ye can accompany me. It would be entirely proper, of course, but every young lass should travel and see London and Paris. Ye should meet people and see how the world lives.”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 69
