The woman was asking for work. Keeva could see how giddy the woman was and once the surprise wore off, she realized she was quite thrilled to see it. She was also humored by it.
“I am sure there is much you can help accomplish,” she said. “Do you feel… up to it?”
Eiselle nodded firmly. “Anything you wish me to do, my lady, I can do it.”
Keeva looked at Daveigh, who had to wipe the smirk off his face. He turned around, heading out of the keep, leaving his wife with the ecstatic new bride.
“I have duties to attend to,” he said as he walked away. “Good day to you, Lady MacRohan.”
Eiselle watched him go before returning her attention to Keeva. “He is such a nice man,” she sighed. “You are a fortunate woman, my lady.”
Keeva was having a difficult time to keep from laughing at Eiselle. The woman’s joyful mood was too sappy to believe but, in the same breath, it was rather sweet. At least Keeva knew that Eiselle was happy; there was no need to ask her. But she wondered if Daveigh was going to press Bric. She had to admit, she was wildly curious about all of this. It would seem that the morning after the wedding that Bric MacRohan had railed against, all was apparently right in the world with both Bric and his wife.
Truly, it was a miracle.
“Well,” Keeva finally said. “I have some fabric I have been saving to have made into a new surcoat. Do you feel up to the challenge, my lady?”
Eiselle nodded eagerly. “Aye, I do,” she said. “But… I would like to bid my husband a good morn, if you don’t mind. He left before I had awoken, and I have not seen him.”
Keeva pointed out into the inner ward. “I saw him on the battlements just a few moments ago,” she said. “Go and wave to him, but do not distract him. If there is something you should learn about being the wife of a fighting man, it is to never distract him from his duty. When you have finished, come into my chamber and we shall pull forth the fabric.”
Eiselle nodded quickly and raced to the open entry, shielding her eyes from the early morning sun, which was very bright. Pale yellow splashed all along the walls and surfaces of the castle that faced east, and she lifted her eyes to the battlements for a glimpse of her husband. He was right where Keeva had said, standing near the small tower that protected the entry into the inner ward.
But he wasn’t looking at her. Bric was in conversation with a soldier and as Eiselle watched, Daveigh joined them on the wall. In truth, Eiselle didn’t want to demand Bric’s attention – simply seeing the man was enough for her. She could feel her heart race at the mere sight of him, wondering if he felt the same way about their wedding night as she did.
It had truly been a night to remember.
Even thinking about it brought a flush to her cheeks. Eiselle didn’t remember any pain at all, only the pleasure and warmth and comfort that his touch brought. She remembered everything about it with great fondness and great excitement, and she realized that she was very much anticipating tonight. She would be alone with him again, exploring this marriage that, so far, had started off so agreeably for both of them. Her gaze lingered on Bric’s proud, muscular form before turning away and heading back in to the keep.
It was her first full day as Lady MacRohan and she intended to live it to the fullest.
Already, it was the best day of her life.
Bric didn’t see his wife standing at the entry of the keep, looking at him adoringly. He had been speaking to a senior soldier, an old Irishman named Kelly, about the feast the night before. Old Kelly was wise enough not to question Bric on his wedding night as the other nosy men had, but merely spoke of the honor of attending his marriage. The old soldier had fought with Bric’s father, Rohan mac Briain, and told Bric that his father would have been proud to see him wed.
Bric lost himself in some revelry with the old man, speaking on their homeland, on Bric’s unruly younger brothers, and on things they both remembered. Normally, Bric wouldn’t entertain such a frivolous conversation but, this morning, he didn’t much feel like focusing on anything serious. He was more than happy to talk about things that had no bearing in his immediate world, simply because his mind really wasn’t where it was supposed to be, no matter how much he’d pretended it was. When it should have been focused on his patrols, and the raid from two nights ago, it was on a certain young woman sleeping in the keep. Every so often, he’d lift his hand up, casually, and sniff the inner part of his wrist.
He could still smell roses.
When Daveigh joined him on the wall, he had to stop smelling his wrist because he didn’t want Daveigh to notice the odd behavior. As if he was going around sniffing himself in some bizarre fashion. But it was a struggle as he listened to Daveigh talk about the weather, the patrols that were out, and the possibility that Savernake troops were in the area. He finally ended up folding his arms across his chest, tightly, so he wouldn’t be tempted to lift one to his nose and sniff it, reminding him of the unforgettable night of passion. He needed to focus on his task at hand and not his bride’s delicious body. But his preoccupation of smelling her scent on his arms was cut short when the sentries at the gatehouse began to call out.
Men were approaching.
That was all Daveigh and Bric heard as they quickly descended the narrow steps from the inner wall, heading into the outer bailey just as the sentries at the gatehouse took up the cry to open the portcullis. With the old iron chains groaning, the portcullis was slowly lifted, and Bric could see mounted men on the other side.
All he could see were horses’ legs and the distant sight of armed men. Still, he knew the sentries were sharp and wouldn’t open the gatehouse to just anyone. Therefore, he knew it was an ally. It took him a few seconds longer to realize exactly which ally.
Savernake had arrived.
Quickly, Bric began yelling to the men in the bailey to send for the stable servants to tend the horses of the incoming men. Mylo had come down from the second level of the gatehouse, heading over to meet up with Bric and Daveigh as they watched the influx of soldiers and animals. Bric noticed right away that there weren’t very many men, perhaps a dozen or so, and certainly not the big patrol he might have expected from a war machine the size of Savernake.
As Mylo approached, he called out to him.
“Is this all?” he asked. “Or do you see the rest of the army in the distance?”
Mylo shook his head. “This is all,” he said. “And they were riding very fast, which is why we opened the portcullis so quickly. Something must be amiss.”
Bric opened his mouth to ask him another question when he saw a big knight astride a massive gray war horse approach. Bric recognized the horse; he knew exactly who the knight was. In fact, it was a struggle for him to keep a straight face as the knight dismounted his horse, removed his broadsword from the sheath on his saddle, and wielded the weapon in a defensive stance as he faced Bric.
Dashiell du Reims had arrived.
“If you are going to fight me, then let us get on with it,” Dashiell said in a menacing tone. “I’ve got no time for foolery, so if you are mad enough to kill me, then you may try. I am ready.”
Bric just stood there and shook his head, wagging it back and forth. “These are your first words to me? Those of anger and threat?”
“I said I have no time for foolery. If you are going to strike, then do it.”
Bric had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at Dashiell’s all-out aggressive stance, as if he were prepared to fight for his life. But he understood why.
“God knows, I should be mad enough to kill you,” he finally muttered. “I have lived this moment over and over in my mind ever since you went behind my back and proposed a marriage between your cousin and me, wondering what I would say to you when I saw you next. I have planned this out many times.”
Dashiell held steady. “I am sure you have,” he said. “But before you tell me how much you hate me and how badly you want to kill me, know this: I proposed the marriage to honor you, not to
punish you. I know you do not believe it, but my reasoning is thusly – you literally saved my life, Bric. In the battle of Newark Castle last September, you prevented my death and I vowed that I would repay you with the greatest honor I was capable of. This was that repayment. Now, you are forever my cousin, my kin, and when I am the Earl of East Anglia, I will greatly elevate you. You shall have lands and wealth. But it starts with the marriage to my cousin, so if you cannot understand that I did this to honor you, then I suppose there is nothing more to say. Attack me if you must; I am ready.”
Bric listened to the rather impassioned speech before slowly lifting his eyebrows. With a heavy sigh, he began to make his way towards Dashiell, but he didn’t make a move to unsheathe his weapon. In fact, his pace was rather slow and thoughtful, as if he were pondering his response.
But as he came closer to Dashiell, the man backed up, unwilling to let Bric, a notoriously fast knight, get any closer and then unleash his fearsome fists. Dashiell knew full well what Bric was capable of, so he wasn’t taking any chances. When Bric saw this, he came to a halt.
“Do you really think that I would hurt you, Dash?” he asked.
“I know what you can do when you are angry enough.”
“This is not one of those times.”
Dashiell wasn’t expecting that answer. In fact, it stumped him, and his brow furrowed in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
Bric looked at him, a smile playing on his lips. “Your cousin arrived here two days ago.”
That brought a measure of surprise from Dashiell. “She did? I was unaware.”
“We were married yesterday.”
Dashiell’s eyes widened. “You were?” He was shocked. “And… and you are not intending to gut me?”
Bric couldn’t hold back the smile now. “Nay,” he said quietly. “Not to worry, Dash. I am not angry with you.”
Dashiell still wasn’t convinced. He looked to Daveigh, over Bric’s shoulder. “My lord, help me,” he said. “Bric is trying to lull me into a false sense of security by telling me he is not angry with me. I have come prepared to fight him, but now he taunts me.”
Daveigh started laughing. “He is not taunting you, Dash,” he said. “He is serious. The marriage agrees with him.”
Dashiell stared at him. Then, he lowered his sword and put his hand over his heart as if it were failing him. “God,” he muttered. “I must be already dead. In what world would Bric MacRohan not seek revenge against me for forcing him to wed my cousin?”
Daveigh continued to laugh as he walked past Bric and to Dashiell, planting a hand on Dashiell’s shoulder. “Believe me,” he said. “No one is more shocked that I am. When I told Bric of your marriage proposal, he literally tried to fight his way out of Narborough and flee. Only my wife’s threats against him forced him to remain. The wedding was yesterday and, if I am reading Bric’s expressions correctly this morning, he is pleased with it. He seems quite pleased with your cousin.”
Dashiell was genuinely astonished. He looked at Bric. “Is this true?”
It was the question everyone had been asking him all morning, trying to force him to confess that he was agreeable to the marriage and to his new wife. He was starting to feel like a fool again, but he fought it, realizing it was his pride that kept him from conceding the point. Only a liar would deny that he was satisfied, and he wasn’t a liar. After a moment, he nodded.
“I am.”
“Then… then you do not want to kill me?”
“Nay.”
“This is not a trick?”
“It is not a trick.”
“Swear this to me.”
“I swear it upon my oath.”
Dashiell stared at him a moment longer before sheathing his sword. “I cannot believe it,” he said. “Truly, I am thrilled, but I cannot believe it. Are you truly happy about this?”
Bric was growing embarrassed. “What would you have me say?” he said. “I told you I was. Would you feel better if I tried to kill you?”
“Mayhap.”
Bric fought off a grin. “Then it will have to be later,” he said. “At the moment, I want to know why you are here. We heard rumor that Savernake was in the area.”
Dashiell didn’t press him any further than he already had about the marriage. He could see that Bric was uncomfortable talking about it and he knew the man well enough to sense that. But he was so stunned about the man’s reaction to the forced marriage that it was difficult to focus on anything else. But, he had to – it was necessary because he had come to Narborough for a reason.
Business was at hand.
“We’ve been with the de Lohr army near Lincoln,” he said. “There is a concentration of the remnants from John’s French army in the midsection of England, and Lincoln has been hard-hit. That is why I have come; Holdingham Castle is being held by Lord Evedon, who is loyal to Henry. You know the place, Bric – it guards the road that connects Lincoln to Nottingham and also to Newark. It is strategic. Even though John is dead, the French still will not leave England and now there is a buildup near Holdingham. De Lohr believes they will try to cut off the road, essentially separating Lincoln from its allies to the south. I’ve been sent to summon your army to hold the line at Holdingham.”
Daveigh was listening closely. “Holdingham is two days away,” he said. “How urgent is the situation?”
Dashiell looked at him. “Dire, my lord,” he said. “De Lohr begs you to come immediately to reinforce his ranks.”
Daveigh looked at Bric, who was already in motion. If Dashiell said the situation was dire, then Bric wasn’t going to ask a lot of questions. He was simply going to do what was necessary to support an ally. Already, he was barking orders to Mylo.
“Bring Pearce off the wall and tell him we are mobilizing the army immediately,” he said. “You and Pearce will start with the preparations. I will join you shortly.”
The de Winter army didn’t mobilize without Bric at the helm, so Mylo rushed off to begin the process while Bric turned to Dashiell.
“We can be ready by sunset,” he said, glancing up at the sky as the morning deepened. “We will have a full moon tonight so, barring any cloud cover, we can travel at night. If we only stop once, to rest the horses and the men, we should be at Holdingham by tomorrow at sunset, I should think.”
Daveigh agreed with the plan, for the most part. “We must leave at least three hundred men here,” he said. “If there are still raiders about, I do not want Narborough unprotected.”
Bric nodded. “I will send to Roxham Castle and Wissington Castle for reinforcements for Narborough,” he said. Then, he looked at Dashiell. “You shall have around eighteen hundred men by nightfall.”
Dashiell was relieved. “Thank you,” he said. “I realize you have duties to attend to, but might I trouble you for some food and drink? And may I offer a word of greeting to your wife?”
Bric was back to fighting off a smile at the mere mention of Eiselle. “I think that can be arranged.”
Dashiell, finally understanding that Bric truly wasn’t going to run him through for the marriage situation, put a big hand on Bric’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Cousin,” he said.
Bric merely chuckled at the mention of their new familial relationship, which set off Dashiell. The two of them snorted and giggled like a pair of fools the entire walk back to the keep.
All was well between them once again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eiselle hadn’t seen her cousin, Dashiell, in at least four years. She was very fond of him because he’d always been very kind to her, so the moment Keeva admitted Bric and Dashiell into the enormous master’s chamber where Eiselle was sitting by the window, measuring out a pattern on the fabric Keeva had given her, Eiselle jumped to her feet and ran at her cousin, who caught her up in a warm embrace.
“Selly,” Dashiell said as he gave her a squeeze. “I did not even know you were at Narborough, yet I hear you are a married woman now. My heartiest congratula
tions.”
Eiselle was thrilled to see her older cousin. “Bric and I were married yesterday,” she said. Then, she threw her arms around his neck again and squeezed him as if to choke him. “It is so good to see you. Father told me that you were married last year and I want to hear all about it. You must tell me everything!”
Dashiell smiled warmly at her. “All I can tell you is that I am as happy as you appear to be,” he said. “I married Edward de Vaston’s youngest daughter, Belladonna.”
Eiselle’s brow furrowed curiously. “De Vaston,” she repeated. “The Duke of Savernake, is he not?”
Dashiell nodded. “He was,” he said. “He died last year. Bric knows this. He was there, in fact, when the duke passed away. I married the duke’s youngest daughter and she is pregnant with our first child, so I am eager to return to Ramsbury Castle.”
Eiselle put her hand on his arm. “I am so happy for you, truly,” she said. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, Dash.”
He smiled at her. “As do you,” he said. Then, he eyed Bric, who had so far been standing aside as the cousins greeted one another. “I am told that marriage agrees with you both.”
Eiselle looked at Bric and she flushed a deep red. “Although I cannot speak for my husband, I find it most agreeable.”
Now that the attention had shifted to Bric, he found that he only had eyes for his wife. “It is,” he said the words she wanted to hear. But then he looked at Dashiell. “We have been married less than a day. What more do you need to hear? I married the woman of your choice and I am not displeased by it.”
Dashiell shook his head. “That is truly something I never thought to hear,” he said. “I am still astonished.”
“Don’t be.”
Dashiell’s amused gaze lingered on him a moment before returning his focus to Eiselle again. “You would not know this, but you are my gift to Bric.”
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