She lowered her hand from his face, smiling because he was. “Do you remember the first time you saw me?”
He nodded firmly. “Absolutely,” he replied. “You were hanging over a cliff, screaming.”
She puckered her lips, disappointed. “Is that all you remember?”
He shrugged. “I remember that I saved you from certain death.”
She slapped him playfully on the shoulder and he laughed low in his throat before growing serious. “To be perfectly honest, my first clear recollection of you was the first night we dined at Erith when you entered the great hall in your grandmother’s company,” he said, gazing into her blue eyes. “I remember thinking how lovely you were. And how young.”
His attempts not to insult her weren’t working. “I am not too young,” she insisted. “I am fifteen years old. I am a woman.”
He lifted an eyebrow, his gaze moving down her delicious torso. “Aye, you are that,” he confirmed in a rumbling tone. “You are very much a woman.”
She heard the sexual undertones and blushed furiously; she still wasn’t used to the games played by men and women. Dallas saw her discomfort and laughed softly, cupping her face and kissing her hot cheek as she averted her gaze.
“You are sweet,” he murmured. “And you are distracting me from my duties.”
She looked at him. “Can you not stay with me a few more minutes?”
His smile faded. “The longer I stay with you now, the less chance there is of finishing my duties in a timely manner and returning to you tonight.”
She jumped off his lap and yanked on his arm, pulling him to his feet. “Hurry up, then,” she began to drag him towards the door. “I will see you this eve.”
Dallas let her pull him towards the entry. “I will do my very best,” he told her, then grew serious as they neared the door. He finally came to a halt and took hold of her arm, facing her as they stood in the entryway. His expression grew serious.
“Brooke, I know you are fearful with what we may be facing,” he said quietly. “But I want to reassure you that I will do everything in my power to keep you, and Erith, safe. It is our castle now, the place where we will raise our family and live out our years together. For that reason alone, I will defend it to the last stone. But for you, I will defend you to the death. That is why we must strike against Gloucester; he threatens you personally and this I will not tolerate. Do you understand?”
She nodded solemnly. “Aye,” she said softly. “I… I think that I shall thank you. My mother and Braxton said that you were a good man but I did not understand what they meant until now.”
He smiled faintly, reaching out to touch her cheek. “Good can mean many things,” he replied. “To me, it means a sense of responsibility and honor, and protecting and caring for those close to me.”
She cocked her head again; he loved the gesture. She looked so sweet and innocent. “Am I close to you?”
His smiled widened. “You are the closest. You are my wife.”
She smiled faintly. “You told me something once, the day we were married,” she said. “You told me that you had not yet given your heart to anyone and that you had saved it for your wife.”
He nodded, eyes twinkling. “I recall.”
She began to look uncomfortable in the slightest. “Am I on my way to earning it? I am trying, you know.”
He laughed softly and pulled her into his arms, rocking her sweetly. “That you are, sweetheart,” he kissed the top of her head. “That you are.”
She squeezed him tightly, loving the feel of his embrace. Until she had met Dallas, she’d never knew a man’s embrace and was coming to understand what she had been missing. It was all she could have imagined it would be.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because you already have mine.”
Dallas’ smile faded and he pulled back to look at her. He studied her features a moment before replying. “I thank you for that, Lady Aston,” he murmured. “It fortifies me more than you know.”
Brooke didn’t know what else to say; she simply gazed up at him with a timid smile on her face, full of all of the hopes and dreams that a young wife possesses. She was navigating her way through unfamiliar territory and loving every minute of it. Dallas, of course, made things as smooth as they could possibly be. She was truly coming to appreciate him.
“Go now,” she urged. “I will see you later this eve. Shall I send sup out to you?”
He was about to reply when shouting from the inner bailey caught his attention. He bolted out on to the stair landing just outside the entry, bellowing to the men on the walls. Startled, Brooke instinctively followed him out onto the steps, watching as men began racing in from the outer bailey.
There was a huge amount of commotion as men began scrambling for their weapons. The portcullises were beginning to grind. Whatever was happening, they were struggling to prepare. Brooke stood next to Dallas, her mouth open with surprise and some fear, when he abruptly turned to her and shoved her back inside.
“Get inside and bolt this door,” he commanded. “Do not open it for anyone other than Braxton, me or the other knights. Is that clear?”
She almost stumbled as he thrust her back into the keep. She opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted when Braxton suddenly bolted past her from the upper floors. He didn’t say a word; he took the stairs down to the bailey far too quickly and began issuing commands in a hurry. Brooke’s measure of surprise was replaced in whole by fear.
“What is happening?” she begged. “Tell me what is wrong.”
Dallas didn’t have time to explain; he grabbed her face between his big hands and kissed her firmly. “Go inside,” he jabbed a finger at her as he began to rapidly descend the stairs. “Bolt the door and stay there.”
Brooke watched him go with tears filling her eyes but she did as she was told. She slammed the door and threw the big iron bolt, turning just in time to see her mother descending the stairs from the upper floor. The two women stared at each other, wide-eyed, as the sounds of commotion in the bailey filtered in through the slit windows.
“What is wrong?” Brooke went to her mother. “Did Braxton tell you?”
Gray was a little dazed; she and Braxton had been in the midst of passionate lovemaking when he had heard the shouts from the walls. He had bolted from their bed quickly, telling her to stay to the keep. Gray dressed quickly, peering from her window only to see a measure of the road beyond Erith. Upon it, she clearly saw soldiers that did not belong to Braxton and her heart surged into her throat. Whatever was occurring she knew, instinctively, that it was not good.
Therefore, it was difficult to answer her daughter. She could read the panic in Brooke’s face and did not want to frighten her further. But a volley of arrows over the walls came crashing into the keep, two of the arrows finding their way inside the small lancet window just to the right of the entry door. Brooke screamed and threw her arms around her mother as Gray pulled her daughter away from the open window. They began smelling smoke, having no idea at the time that Graehm was at the base of the stairs leading into the keep, burning them. Braxton had ordered all access to the keep cut off; no matter who was attacking Erith, they would not get the women under any circumstances.
Erith, the recently rebuilt fortress, was under siege.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Brooke remembered the days of quiet at Erith, days that brought with them the uncertainty of where their next meal was coming from. She clearly remembered weeks upon weeks, especially in the winter months, when they had gone without meat. Life at Erith had been difficult, quiet, forgotten by the world. She had not been content in the least. With the introduction of a new husband over the past few weeks, Brooke was coming to see what treasures and wonders life truly held for her. She hadn’t wanted to marry Dallas but now she couldn’t remember when the man had not been with her. And she didn’t know what she was going to do without him.
The sounds of battle had been going on for three days. Heavy smoke f
illed the air as the sounds of screaming and fighting filled the ambient air like a surreal backdrop. Brooke and Gray stayed to the hall, comforting the few servants that had managed to be inside the keep and trying not to starve to death in the process. The kitchen stores were on the ground floor below them, but the only way to get to them was outside. By the end of the second day, they had been out of wood for the hearth. Now, they were nearly out of what food they had managed to scrounge.
Gray was going without food again simply so the others would have something to eat. She hadn’t eaten in almost two days and was looking pale and very weak. Brooke tried to coerce her into eating some stale bread crust, but Gray simply smiled and insisted that her child eat instead. The three servants sat huddled in the corner with the whining dogs, whispering among themselves about the virtues of dog meat. As night fell on the third day and a dog in the hall suddenly yelped and went silent, Brooke stood near the lancet window in the entry and cried. She knew the servants were eating the dog and soon her mother would insist she partake. She didn’t want to do it. She wanted to see Dallas and she wanted to get out of the keep.
She couldn’t even see the bailey beyond very well; Gray wouldn’t let her get too close to the window so the best she could do was stand there and listen to the chaos below. So she stood there, pale and drawn from weeping and hunger, wrapped in one of her lovely new cloaks and praying for any sign from her husband. It seemed to her that the fighting had shifted for it didn’t seem as loud as it once was; perhaps the armies were taking a rest from their marathon battle and perhaps that meant Dallas would soon appear with food and wood for the hearth.
As Brooke stood near the lancet window and dreamed of a better time, a body suddenly appeared in the window. Brooke shrieked and rushed at it, trying to push it through, but the body in the opening protested vehemently.
“Brooke, stop!” It was Edgar, wedged into the skinny window. “Stop pushing! You are going to kill me!”
Brooke shrieked again when she realized who it was and she grabbed hold of Edgar instead, pulling him through the window. The youth fell to the floor with a thud, drawing Gray from the other room. Gray came running into the entry, her eyes wide at her husband’s squire.
“Edgar!” she exclaimed. “Why are you here?”
Edgar was filthy and had a nice cut on his right forearm but was otherwise unharmed. He stood up and rubbed his elbow where he had smacked it against the floor.
“Sir Braxton sent me,” he said as he dashed between the women and threw the big iron bolt on the entry door. He yanked open the door and shouted to those below. “Up here!”
Gray closed her eyes tightly at the sound her husband’s name, fairly close to collapse. “Braxton is well?” she asked the boy.
Ladders were being propped up against the keep, coming to rest just beyond the bottom of the doorframe. Edgar steadied them as he answered.
“Aye, m’lady,” he said. “He is well. So is Sir Dallas. But Sir Graehm took an arrow to the chest yesterday and died.”
Gray murmured a prayer for both Braxton’s safety and Graehm’s death. “What of Geoff?” Gray wanted to know. “He was caught outside when all of this happened and he is not nearly healed from his neck wound.”
A ladder was being raised to the edge of the door from the bailey below. Edgar held the vertical post firm as men began to mount the ladder from below.
“He is well, too,” the lad said. “Not a scratch.”
Gray was relieved beyond words. She stood there, pale and trembling, as Braxton was the first one to reach the top of the ladder. One look at his wife and he propelled himself off the ladder and into her arms. He was grimy, sweaty, smelly, and exhausted, but it didn’t matter. Gray clung to him, weeping softly.
“All is calm, sweet,” he squeezed her so tightly that he was sure he heard bones crack. Then his lips began moving over her ears and cheeks. “Are you well?”
She sniffled, wiping away the tears of joy and relief. “Fine,” she murmured. “Just a bit hungry. We’ve not had anything to eat for a day or so.”
He was already nodding even as the words left her mouth, snapping orders to Edgar, who leapt out the lancet window and took the rope down to the bailey because Dallas was on the ladder.
“Edgar will bring some food,” Braxton told her, holding her face in his dirty hands just to get a look at her. “You appear tired. Have you not slept?”
She was more concerned with him than with her own needs. “Do not worry about me,” she turned the subject around. “Are you well? What is happening out there?”
Braxton kissed her, gently and with great emotion, before putting his arm around her shoulder and leading her towards the great hall.
“Come and sit,” he murmured. “There is much to discuss.”
As Braxton led Gray into the cold and dank hall, Dallas reached the top of the ladder. Brooke was standing there, jumping up and down with excitement, and he swept her into his arms as one would carry a child. She threw her arms around his neck, joyfully strangling him, as he carried her towards the hall without a word. Brooke didn’t utter a sound; she simply squeezed him tightly, eyes closed and face pressed into the side of his head. Dallas was so exhausted and emotional that, for a moment, he didn’t trust himself to speak. He could see that Braxton was taking Gray into the hall and he knew why; he and Brooke would join them.
Braxton was helping Gray sit on the bench just as Dallas approached carrying Brooke. He set her down opposite her mother, removing his helm and setting it on the table as he called for water from one of the servants. One of the three who had dined on dog meat went running to do his bidding. Meanwhile, both Braxton and Dallas began to remove various piece of armor, like gloves and helms that had been on their bodies for three days. There was great weariness to their movements.
“What is happening, Braxton?” Gray asked softly. “Has the fighting stopped?”
Braxton raked his fingers through is dark blond hair, scratching his scalp with some satisfaction. “For now,” he told her. “But it is a temporary lull. They will be back.”
The fear returned to Gray’s expression. “How do you know?”
Braxton was still in battle mode, trying not to be harsh or abrupt with her. “Because they have not left the area,” he told her. “They have simply pulled back to regroup and, I suspect, await reinforcements.”
Gray’s eyes widened. “Reinforcements?” she repeated. “From where? Who has attacked Erith?”
“Gloucester,” he told her the obvious. “When they sent the bodies of my men back, the entire army had come as escort, only they were hiding to the trees and I didn’t see them. Stupid in hindsight; I should have suspected something like that. In any case, they could not breach Erith’s inner wall and they have retreated to try again another day.”
Gray was stunned, frightened. She didn’t dare look at Brooke. All she knew was that her entire life was at stake and especially her daughter’s. It made her terrified and angry at the same time, her mind brittle from lack of food and sleep. She abruptly stood, pacing over to the cold hearth where a servant was laying out peat and wood. As the man attempted to start a fire, Gray came to a halt, her gaze moving over the great hall of Erith, the only home she had ever known.
“What doom has been brought upon us?” she whispered rhetorically. “Are we to now know a greater measure of horror than we have ever experienced?”
Braxton could hear the desolation in her voice and moved to comfort her. “I would not worry so,” he told her quietly. “Gloucester sent a few hundred men, thinking they could easily raze Erith. But they had no idea that we had reinforced and rebuilt so much of her, which is why I suspect they are waiting for reinforcements. It was not an easy task as they originally thought. That gift of time will allow us to prepare a reception for them when they come again.”
She looked at him. “I do not understand your words,” she said. “What do you mean?”
Braxton’s blue-green eyes twinkled. “Now th
at I know they are returning, I can formulate a plan of resistance and counter attack. Erith will not be an easy target, I assure you, but I am greatly concerned that you and Brooke will be within the walls when Gloucester returns.”
Gray cocked her head as if having no idea what he was getting at. “This is our home. We will stay here.”
He went to her, putting his hands on her arms. “Sweetheart, listen to me,” he said softly. “I want to remove you and Brooke and send you somewhere safe. I do not want you here when Gloucester returns.”
Gray stared at him. Then she pulled from his grasp, her amber eyes blazing. “I am not leaving my home and neither is my daughter,” she was angry, exhausted and unbalanced. “I am not leaving.”
Braxton was exhausted, too. He struggled to maintain his calm with her, having been in battle mode for days. His usual patience was slipping.
“Please, sweet,” he was laboring not to come across as hard and commanding with her. “If you remain at Erith, my focus will be divided and I must maintain all of my focus on the battle. Your distraction could prove deadly if my mind is not where it should be.”
She gazed at him, looking horrified and accusing at the same time. “Are you saying it would be my fault if you were killed because I do not want to leave my home?”
Braxton pushed himself to calm before things got out of hand, reaching out to grasp her again and put his arms around her. “I am simply saying that removing you from Erith would relieve my mind considerably,” he kissed her pale cheek, noticing that Edgar was back with a sack full of food. He pulled Gray to sit once more. “Sit down before you fall down. Come have something to eat and we shall continue this conversation when we are both feeling better.”
Shaking, pale, Gray allowed him to sit her back down at the table as Edgar rushed up and began to pull food out of the sack; he put three big loaves of bread on the table plus two chunks of white cheese, three small apples, several handfuls of walnuts, and a bundle of dried jerky that was tied off with dried grass. As Braxton and Dallas began dividing the food up for the women, Norman suddenly popped up through the floor from the lower level kitchens with a hogshead barrel of wine in his grip. He rolled the barrel out onto the floor, leapt off the ladder, and reclaimed the barrel as he made his way over to the table. Servants and two soldiers were following him with cups and other morsels of food.
Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 80
