“Graehm,” Braxton’s charger was cantering next to the wagon as he shouted his order. “Return to Erith. Collect all of our men and all of our possessions and make haste for Milnthorpe.”
Graehm broke away from the party and returned to the fading castle. Dallas, bringing up the rear of the party, shoved a squealing Brooke back onto the wagon bed and slapped closed the door at the rear of the bed where she and Edgar had been hanging their legs out. The wagon was bouncing over the road, rattling heavily, and Brooke and Edgar were bouncing right along with it.
“Braxton,” Gray called to him over the noise. “Where are we going? What’s wrong?”
He knew she needed an explanation. His mind was working so quickly that he had almost forgotten. But he couldn’t stop now; they had to get back to the town as quickly as possible.
“Later,” he told her.
Gray watched him spur his horse ahead, charging down the road as if riding to battle. Geoff gave a groan at the bouncing of the wagon and she found her attention turned to him. Even so, her thoughts were still with Braxton and their mad dash back to Milnthorpe.
Something was up. She could feel it.
*
“Are you mad?” Gray demanded. “Have you completely lost whatever good sense God gave you?”
They stood beneath the shade of a mature oak, just Gray and Braxton. On the outskirts of Milnthorpe, the rest of Braxton’s army had just caught up to them in the past few moments and had begun settling their encampment. The sun was burning bright in the afternoon sky, but Gray wasn’t paying any attention to that, or to anything else at the moment. Her focus was solely on the powerful knight with the graying blond hair standing before her.
Braxton was calm in the face of her tirade. In fact, he hadn’t expected less. They were away from the rest of the encampment so that no one could hear their emotional exchange. He had brought her to this clearing a-purpose, knowing their conversation had the potential to be explosive.
“Think about it, Gray,” he said evenly. “It is the best option unless you want Brooke’s future to be marred with uncertainty. You are going to have suitors showing up from now until next year demanding to negotiate for your daughter. But they cannot negotiate for her if she is already married.”
Gray knew that; Lord, she knew that. But it didn’t help her sense of despair. “But to Dallas?” she shook her head, baffled. “Surely you cannot take marriage so lightly that you would force your knight to marry a young lady without a cent to her name?”
He crossed his thick arms patiently. “I told you that I would supply her dowry. She is most certainly not penniless.”
Gray shook her head until tendrils of blond hair escaped from her bun. “I cannot let you do that. You are not responsible for her dowry. And Dallas…”
He interrupted her. “I have a piece of vellum that states I am quite clearly responsible for her. She belongs to me. And since she belongs to me, I will supply her with a suitable dowry.”
Gray froze, her amber eyes wide on him. “So you intend to marry my daughter to your knight no matter what I say? Because she belongs to you?”
“Nay,” he unwound his arms and went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “That is not what I meant and you know it. What I am saying is that I am indeed responsible for her; therefore, I will supply a dowry to make her attractive to a husband. And I am trying to save you and your daughter if you will stop fighting me on this. Would you rather see her married to a de Clare?”
She knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t claiming Brooke as some prize to be awarded. Her angry expression wavered. “Nay.”
“Haistethorpe?”
She grimaced. “Nay, not him.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “Then you must marry her to someone suitable right away to eliminate the uncertainty that she will end up with men like that. Can you not see the logic, sweet? I am trying to help you. But you must learn to trust me.”
She did trust him, but it didn’t help her sense of hopelessness and outrage. Still, he was trying to do what he thought was best. Ever since she had met the man, he had been trying to do what was best for her and her daughter and she had resisted him at nearly every turn. She did not want to resist him anymore; she wanted to trust him with complete abandon. He hadn’t steered her wrong yet.
“Oh… Braxton,” she breathed, the fight suddenly draining out of her. “Must it be like this?”
He nodded his head. “I fear that is the only way to save your daughter from a horrible fate,” he pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. “Dallas is a chivalrous, gentle knight. I would not entrust your daughter to him if he was not. He will inherit a slight amount of property upon the death of his mother, so he is not completely unsuitable. His father is a wealthy baron.”
She was coming to feel so very saddened. “But… he is so much older than she is.”
“He is twenty-six years old. There is only eleven years between them, not a tremendous gap. There is more of an age difference between you and I.”
“What does he say to all of this? Surely this is not appealing to him.”
“He considers it an honor to marry into the House of de Montfort and bear the title of Baron Kentmere. Moreover, a dowry of thirty thousand gold marks is very appealing.”
Gray looked at him, shocked. “Is that what you are giving her as a dowry?”
He nodded. “Eventually, Dallas will leave my service and find his path in life. It will be a goodly sum of money to support them.”
She went from astonishment to complete, utter devastation over the thought of her daughter leaving her. “He will take my daughter away?”
He fought off a smile, watching tears fill her eyes. “I did not mean it the way it sounds,” he shook her gently. “You must get hold of yourself and focus on the issue. Your daughter will marry Dallas, which will end the parade of suitors, and you will marry me.”
She wasn’t sure she could possibly be more astonished, but she was. “You and I are getting married also?”
He let his grin break through then. “It makes sense. If the priest is performing one marriage, he can perform another. That way, no one can vie for the hand of either Serroux woman.” He ran a finger over her cheek, tenderly. “And I have been most anxious to call you wife since the moment I met you.”
The tears were still there, but fading. He was so very sincere and sweet. “This all seems like such a dream to me.” She dared to lean forward and kiss him softly on the lips. “Never did I imagine my life would turn out as it has. Never did I imagine someone like you.”
His response was to pull her into his arms and kiss her with such force that he ended up cutting his own lip with his teeth. Gray responded with equal passion, the caution and reserve that had filled much of her manner since their introduction unabashedly vanished. She was his and she did not care if the entire world knew about it. In fact, she wanted them to know. Braxton pulled her closer, his right hand instinctively finding her breast again. It was like a moth to the flame. She moaned softly as he gently fondled her.
In the midst of their heated kiss, it seemed odd when a loud thud suddenly filled the air and Braxton abruptly released his hold on her. One moment, she was in his arms and in the next, he was lying at her feet in a heap. It all happened so fast that she did not have time to process the event. The next she realized, a man with a club of wood in his hand was standing in front of her. Startled, she looked up into eyes of obsidian.
“So, my lady,” said that deep voice again. “We meet once more.”
His big-gloved hand muffled her scream.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Why does he keep looking at me?” Brooke whispered harshly to Edgar.
They were sitting in a pitched tent, watching over a sleeping Geoff until Gray returned. But it had been quite some time and neither Gray nor Braxton had returned. Moreover, Sir Dallas was staring at Brooke from his perch several feet away. He had the strangest look on his face, seemingly
lost in thought, as the rest of the camp moved busily around him.
“I do not know,” Edgar wasn’t particularly interested in Sir Dallas at the moment. “Maybe he does not like you.”
Brooke scowled at him. “Why are you so mean to me all of the time?”
Edgar had no good answer. He lifted his skinny shoulders. “I do not know,” he fussed with the wrappings on his ankle. “Where is your mother? She was supposed to come back and look at my foot.”
Brooke eyed the lad, still lingering on the insult he had dealt her. But she looked around, off in the direction she had last seen her mother heading. “She and Sir Braxton are off somewhere,” she sighed. “We’d best wait for them here. I do not think we should go looking for them.”
“Why not?”
Brooke gave him a knowing expression, much like her mother’s own. “Because they are probably doing something we should not like to interrupt.”
“Like what?”
She frowned. “Do you not know anything about the ways of men and women? Sometimes they like to be alone.”
Edgar shrugged, fooling with the wrap on his ankle. “I have seen the soldiers grab serving wenches and put their mouths on…”
Brooke held up a sharp hand. “Shhhhh,” she hissed. “I do not want to hear that.”
“But I have seen them.”
“I know you have and I do not care. It’s… it’s unseemly to talk about those things.”
“I bet your mother and Sir Braxton are doing the same thing!”
Brooke shrieked. “Do not say such things, you evil boy. I’ll slap you, I will!”
Edgar liked the reaction he was getting out of her. She was squirming and the corners of his mouth twitched. “What are you so upset about? I’ll wager you don’t even know anything about what men and women do.”
Brooke scowled and her cheeks turned pink. “I know more than you, Edgar.”
“Do not!”
“Do, too!”
Dallas picked that moment to break from his staring stance and move towards the wagon. “Edgar,” he snapped softly. “What have I told you about harassing Lady Brooke?”
Edgar looked at Dallas and was immediately quelled, but not entirely. There was still fight left in his expression. “I was not harassing her, my lord. We were… talking.”
“What about?”
Both Edgar and Brooke looked mortified. They looked at each other, wide-eyed, and Brooke blurted out: “My mother and Sir Braxton. They’ve been gone a long time.”
Dallas’ blue eyes moved in the direction he had last seen the pair wander. He had to admit, they were correct. Braxton and the lady had been gone a long while, but he knew the reason for their disappearance and the contents of the subsequent discussion. He suspected that it had taken longer than expected to convince Lady Gray the course of her daughter’s future.
Dallas, in fact, had spent the last hour coming to grips with just that. He’d always hoped to marry, of course, but he’d not thought on it more than that. Braxton’s request had been a surprising one. At first, Dallas had been quite shocked. Then his shock had moved to resistance, to contemplation, and finally to resigned acceptance. Though he had not exactly been ordered to marry her, the implication was obvious.
He’d just spent the past several minutes watching Brooke interact with Edgar, observing every movement, every word. She was certainly a pretty thing, like her mother, but she was also very much a spoiled child. Yet he sensed there was something inherently agreeable in her, like a beautiful wild rose bush that needed some pruning and tending for it to fully blossom. He never thought of himself as a gardener, but that was the position he could very well find himself in. If he was successful, he would have a lovely, well-behaved wife. If not, then…
“Should we go look for them, Sir Dallas?”
Brooke’s soft voice jolted him from his thoughts. He looked into her luminous blue eyes, the same shape but not the same color as her mother’s. “I shall go and look for them,” he said after a moment. “You stay here with Edgar.”
They watched him walk off towards the east, the tall knight with the damp blond hair. Though he was slender, he had very broad shoulders and muscular arms. He had fought valiantly at the tournament the day before, falling only to a man nearly twice his size. But he had accepted defeat graciously. Brooke had felt rather sorry for him. When Dallas disappeared into the trees, Brooke and Edgar turned their attention back on each other. Edgar reiterated the fact that Brooke knew nothing about men and women. Brooke punched him in the arm and he fell off the wagon.
Dallas was oblivious to the fight going on back in the wagon as he wandered deeper into the trees. His knightly senses were highly attuned to the area around him, not wanting to fall across something indiscreet between the lady and Sir Braxton. He knew very well that his liege had set his sights on the lady. They all knew, and no one blamed him. She was a beauty.
The trees grew denser and more than once a pointy branch caught on his armor. Birds twittered above his head, the waning sunlight filtering through the heavy oak branches. He could see a small clearing up ahead and, oddly, there was something lying in the middle of it. He couldn’t quite tell what it was until it suddenly moved. A hand went up; a gloved one. He recognized the glove.
Dallas broke into a run, plowing through the trees and into the clearing. He reached Braxton just about the time the man was trying to push himself up into a seated position.
“Braxton,” Dallas grabbed him to steady him. “What happened?”
Braxton had a nasty crack on the back of his head; his scalp was split and there was blood all over his hauberk. Moreover, the world was rocking dangerously and Dallas’ voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. He shook his head feebly.
“I do not know,” he grunted, then his eyes peeped open. “Where is Gray?”
Dallas looked around, seriously concerned. “I do not see her,” he held on to Braxton as the man tried to steady himself. “Did she do this?”
Braxton glared at him as much as he was able. “God, no,” he blinked his eyes, trying to focus. “Find her, Dallas. All I know is that the last I saw of her, she was in my arms. And then everything went dark.”
“But you are injured…”
“Find her,” Braxton barked savagely.
Dallas let go of him and stood up, studying the mashed grass beneath their feet. He whirled around, trying to find a pattern, but the grass was too dry and too mashed to discern much of anything. His fear began to rise.
“I do not see any blood,” he said. “Do you suppose she ran off after your attacker?”
Braxton was fighting down the bile in his throat, his senses becoming more oriented and a strong sense of trepidation taking hold. “More than likely whoever hit me took her.”
“A wild animal, perhaps?”
“I doubt it. There would be blood all over the place if that was the case. More than likely, it was a man with a weapon.”
Dallas could suddenly see a clear path leading off towards the northeast into a cluster of trees. “But to ambush you,” he paralleled the path, realizing it was indeed something of evidence. “Why would someone hit you on the head and take the lady? It makes no sense.”
Braxton was struggling to his knees, seeing where Dallas was heading. Hand on the back of his head, he took a deep breath to settle the spinning world. “Do you see something?” he asked his knight.
Dallas took off at a run, disappearing into the cluster of trees. He yelled something that Braxton could not understand. Braxton struggled to his feet, weaving and stumbling after his knight. By the time Braxton reached him, Dallas was on his knees in some soft dirt behind a massive oak. It was cool and dim and musty in the bramble. Braxton walked up to him as quickly as his shaking legs would allow.
“What is it?” he demanded.
Dallas’ blue eyes were focused intently on the marks in the dirt. “Horse shoes,” he muttered. “And look; over there. Fresh horse dung. Someone was here, and
quite recently. The earth is still damp.”
Braxton shook his head, struggling to clear his vision. His head wasn’t swimming so much now, but it hurt badly. He knelt opposite Dallas, very careful not to disturb the ground. He realized that only his determination to discover what happened to Gray overrode his terror for the moment. He feared that if he was to lose that focus, he would quickly deteriorate into a blathering fool.
“There are markings on the shoes,” he noticed quietly. “Can you make them out?”
Dallas lowered his head so that his nose was almost in the dirt. After a moment, he shook his head. “Nay, my lord,” he said. “I see the mark, but I do not recognize it. But look over there,” he pointed to footprints a few feet away. “Do you see those? Boots”
Braxton peered closer. “Heavy, well made. See the distinct imprint of the heel? This was someone of means.”
“It is a big man,” Dallas said what they were both thinking. They looked at each other and Dallas could see the anguish in his liege’s eyes. “Who else would wear footwear like this but a knight or some other man of property?”
Braxton put a hand to his temple, trying to rub away the pain. “I fear that I was being followed and was not even aware,” he said with disgust. “God, what is happening to me? I used to be so much more astute. I used to know all, see all. But I did not see this.”
“Maybe they were not stalking you at all,” Dallas interjected softly. “Maybe they were stalking the lady.”
Braxton lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed they were,” he said slowly. “And because of my foolishness, they were able to take what they sought. They waited until we were alone. Rather than invite a confrontation that I would very well win, they chose to ambush me and steal her. Bastards.”
Dallas could see that he was already beating himself up over the situation. “It was not your fault, my lord,” he said steadily. “You could never have anticipated such a thing.”
Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 68
