Tonight was the first time Brody had seen the woman sitting next to the Count of Regnitz. He found himself staring, his wine cup resting on the long table, forgotten. The Count was sitting on the King’s left and farther down the U-shaped table, while Brody sat on the King’s right and closer. But their positions put Regnitz opposite him. Brody had an unobstructed view of the woman.
She was veiled and modest as was every woman at the table, but her beauty was undisguised. Her eyes were a very pale, almost colorless. As they were surrounded by dark, thick lashes and brows, it made them comely. It was difficult to look away from her gaze. Brody was grateful she was bent over her trencher, her eyes downcast. That one first glance he had caught from her was still strumming, the effects reverberating in his belly…and lower down.
He pretended to sip the wine while he considered her. She had to be the Count’s wife. Henry was a pious man and whores were not tolerated in his hall, no matter how well they presented themselves. Regnitz was middle-aged, but his wife looked to be much younger. She had creamy flesh that the veil and modest panel over her breasts did little to disguise. Her breasts were well shaped and outlined by wine-red velvet and jeweled trim, with the white gauze tucked into the square neck.
She was a fine-looking woman. One of the most attractive women Brody had ever come across.
“You’ve fallen silent, my lord,” Veris said. “Does something ail you?”
Brody tore his gaze away from the woman, as heat seemed to flush through his chest and into his throat. He looked at Veris, who was sitting on his right. The position of honor. “I…it is nothing. A momentary thought.” He struggled to make his words sound indifferent. Veris must be the very last man in this hall to know what he had been thinking…and feeling.
He tried to smile, to disperse the roiling in his belly. Veris watched him, his gaze sharp.
It had been seven years since he had met Veris in Jerusalem and Brody still woke each morning, grateful for the big man’s presence in his life, even if the actual circumstances of their meeting was unknown to him.
He put the mystery aside. One day, Veris always said, everything would be explained to him. One day, somewhere in the future, the four days Brody did not remember would be accounted for in full. He had chosen to trust Veris in this, even without the letter telling him that Veris was above reproach. Brody could not dispute the letter’s origins. Veris said he had written the letter during the four days that he did not remember. Too, there were facts in the letter known only to him. Veris swore he had watched Brody write it. The lettering was Brody’s own hand, he would swear it.
Veris had earned his faith in the years since Jerusalem. Brody would have to be the most ungrateful, scurrilous cad to foreswear him now. He would travel to the ends of the earth to ensure Veris did not suffer from any action or inaction of his.
Veris’ very blue eyes were wary, so Brody summoned a warmer smile, regardless of who might be watching them. “I ate very little tonight,” he said for the benefit of eavesdroppers. “But it seems the little I partook is sitting ill with me.”
Veris glanced at the top table, his gaze pulling away. Did the answer not please him? “The king will be finished, soon. Perhaps you should retire once he has left?”
“Perhaps,” Brody said, prevaricating. He didn’t want to leave until he had learned the name of the woman, at least. One more look into her eyes would be a gift. He stood up. “Toulouse sits yonder. I will ask him for his opinion on the mares. He has yet to commit to the bargain.”
Brody and Veris had spent four years breeding mares with the very best war stallions in the land, developing the bloodline. Now, most of the lords of the land looked to Brody’s estate for the best warhorses. William Toulouse, the cousin of Raymond of Toulouse, who had perished not long after the siege of Jerusalem, had raised the possibility of buying one of the mares for a princely sum, but the outbreak of war between the King and his brother had delayed negotiations.
Toulouse sat two stools closer to the king, with the Countess between him and Regnitz.
Brody could not look at Veris with any steadiness. He dropped his gaze, feeling the flush of confusion and heat. So he picked up his mug, propelled himself to his feet and made his way around to the end of the table and into the space between, where the mummers and musicians were setting up.
It was not a big hall and had been severely challenged to provide properly for the King’s retinue. Complaints about the food were many, when the king was not within hearing and it gave Brody and Veris excuses to avoid eating and drinking.
It seemed those lords on the King’s left were as reluctant to eat as Brody had been pretending to be. Their trenchers held barely-touched meat.
Brody nodded at the new Count of Toulouse and moved to the opposite side of the narrow table from him. In the years since he had inherited his title, William had grown into a man. Leadership sat well upon him. He gave Brody a cheerful smile. “Brenden,” he acknowledged. “You and your men did well upon the battlefield. The king is singing your praises to whomever listens.”
Brody made certain he did not look directly at the lady on Toulouse’s left, even though from the corner of his eyes he could tell she was glancing at him, her head ducked to preserve her modesty. Something tightened in his chest and his heart gave a little jolt.
He kept his gaze upon Toulouse. “Luck was with me. The king’s command to fight on foot caught many by surprise but I and my knight, Will, have both experienced infantry combat.”
“You’ve had experience fighting like a common man?” Regnitz asked loudly.
Brody was grateful for the excuse to look in Regnitz’ direction, even though he disliked the man’s objection to fighting without the benefit of a war horse. “I’ve found it useful to learn other ways of defending and attacking as I come across them. It all helps win victory on the field.”
“It certain helped with this victory,” Toulouse said warmly. “Henceforth, I will not be quite as quick to dismiss new ways. I was very impressed.”
Brody kept his gaze upon Regnitz. “I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure of an introduction.”
“My apologies, Lord Norwich,” Toulouse said hurriedly. “My Lord, allow me to introduce to you Peter, Count of Regnitz. Regnitz, you are in the presence of Brenden, Marquis of Norwich.”
The count got hurriedly to his feet when he heard Brody’s title and bowed. “My Lord,” he muttered. He held out his hand as the woman stood. “My lady wife, Countess Isolde.”
Then she was a noble in her own right.
Brody gave her a stiff nod as she curtsied. She straightened and lifted her chin. Her eyes met his.
Brody just barely held back a gasp. Her gaze seemed to reach inside him, deep into the inner confines of his soul. Something stirred there, as if it had been disturbed. His body tightened with a familiar ache.
Her eyes were grey and quite lovely. Her lips were perfect mounds, slightly red and with a fullness that beckoned, begging to be kissed.
For two heartbeats, her gaze held his, then she dropped her chin once more. But that left the top of her head and the slope of her breasts to be examined and Brody took the chance. She was slender enough under the velvet, but there was an agreeable curve to her hip, to compliment the shape of her breasts.
His heart gave a hard squeeze and began to beat. His nether regions were throbbing with sudden need. But Brody was aware of Veris sitting at the table behind him, probably watching every move he made.
It made turning away from Lady Isolde easier.
Brody made himself look at Toulouse instead and say something about the horses—a suggestion that Toulouse visit on his way back to court, to examine the mares, which Toulouse agreed to.
With parting compliments, Brody turned and walked back to his place on the other long table. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Veris. The ache between his thighs had dispersed, leaving a faint ill feeling instead.
He wished he were human, just for a moment, so th
at he might quaff the wine in his cup. To drink himself into oblivion seemed to be the best course of action from among the many possibilities that had arisen this night.
* * * * *
Accommodations had been found for Brody in the castle itself, further confirming the king’s esteem, for other lords were quartered in inns and houses outside the castle walls. The rooms were for his personal use, however. His men were expected to camp in the fields on the other side of the river, with the majority of the King’s army.
As Brody’s chief knight and advisor, Veris had been given a small pavilion down among the men, but he made little use of it except as an enclosed location where his officers could report. The world saw him retire there each night and rise from his bed each morning but in fact, he slipped into the castle each night when all but the guards were asleep. The guards thought Veris was visiting one of the women and jested with him each night as they opened the portal door for him.
Not that Brody needed the bed that had been provided, either, except for certain pleasurable activities, but masquerading as human was as ingrained as using the high guard to fight when afoot.
That night, after tending him, his page scurried out the door to get his own supper and to sleep. It left Brody with too much time to think. He stood at the window with the shutters open and looked down at the town below, which was dark and still, and thought about the madness that gripped him. He considered the possibility that he was suffering the same boredom that the rest of the King’s men seemed to be suffering.
But that wasn’t possible. Not for him. Veris was always with him and he had learned that Veris’ mind was a treasure trove of thoughts and ideas and above all, plans. Veris never stopped thinking about times that laid ahead of them, anticipating what would be needed, the best course of action to situate them in the most fortunate position.
It had been Veris’ idea to raise war horses. He had been certain they would be needed and he had been right. Veris was always considering how to meet a future that only he seemed to understand. It filled Brody’s days—and his nights—with constant surprise and newness. Boredom and ennui were strangers to him.
So why did his attention fasten upon the Count’s wife in this way? The sordid ideas that festered in his mind were truly indecent, well beyond anything he had ever experienced personally.
Brody leaned his head against the cold stone wall. How could he betray Veris in this way?
When Veris rested his big hand on Brody’s shoulder, Brody drew in a sharp breath in surprise. He had been too occupied to hear the inner chamber door open.
Veris gave him a small smile. “Your thoughts were far from here.”
“They were, indeed.” Brody turned to face him as Veris shrugged off the tunic over his mail, then reached for the ties to loosen the mail itself. Brody ducked under his raised arm and untied the leather at the back of Veris’ neck. With no page to hand, he was the only man available to perform this small service and in truth, it was a nightly ritual he found to be pleasant.
“You were distracted, in the hall,” Veris said as he shrugged off the chainmail with a hiss of metal links.
“I grow bored with all this waiting,” Brody lied. “We have so much to do at home. My mind keeps wandering there. How much longer can this pursuit of peace continue?”
“Edward will concede soon enough. His men are even more uncomfortable than the King’s. Their protests will press him to find a settlement quickly.”
“And so the future of England is determined by the lack of cushions and wine,” Brody muttered.
Veris laughed and dropped his undershirt onto the pile of mail. “Expediency has always shaped politics. Arthur’s end came because he was too complacent and settled behind the walls of his castle.”
“And I was under the misapprehension that it was treason that was his undoing. How foolish of me.”
“Aye, the right bribes at the right time had a small effect,” Veris agreed, his smile broadening. His hands dropped to the ties of his braies, making the muscles beneath his flesh move, shaping themselves into rounded mounds.
“How much do you know of the future?” Brody demanded.
Veris looked at him, his hands growing still. “As much as the next man. Why do you ask?”
“I think you are lying about the four days I cannot remember. I think that during those days you somehow learned of things that were yet to happen.”
Veris put his hands on his hips and studied Brody in the way that told him Veris had grown suspicious. Or was he wary? “You’ve never accused me of lying about that time. Not in all these years. Why now?”
“You do not dispute that you have led me falsely.”
Veris shook his head. “Of course I have lied about that time. I have omitted many of the events that happened. It must be that way. There are facts that you must not know.” A shadow touched his expression. “There are facts I wish I did not know.”
Brody was surprised. “Why do you say that?”
Veris sighed. “I’ve tried to explain this to you before. It is very important that we live our lives as we would if we did not know of anything untoward happening in Jerusalem.”
Brody was familiar with Veris’ insistence on this matter. “I do not know of what happened.”
“But I do.” Veris’ voice was low. “Thus I must govern what I do and what I say, every day, to prevent myself from acting upon that knowledge.”
Brody could not look away from him. This was the first time Veris had given any hint that the four lost days contained profound secrets. “You know what will happen to us ahead in time.”
Veris’ expression did not change. “I might. I might not. The effect is the same. It is knowledge that must stay with me.” He moved around the pile of cast off clothing and gripped the fur edges of Brody’s robe and drew him closer. “It is cold in here,” he complained. “Let’s get beneath the covers.”
“As if cold is such a bother to you,” Brody scoffed.
“As much as food might ail you?” Veris asked. His gaze, from this close, was hard to look away from.
Unbidden, Brody thought of another pair of pale eyes and lips that were full and sweet. He closed his eyes and pulled himself out of Veris’ grip, the illness swamping him. His heart thudded with an unsteady pace and he pressed his hand over it and moved back to the calming breeze from the window.
“Brody?” Veris did not sound angry, merely puzzled.
“I think, perhaps, you might be better off in your pavilion tonight.” It took enormous courage to say the words aloud. But every moment that Veris stayed in this room, thinking that everything was as it should be, made the ill feelings increase.
Silence greeted him. It lingered for so long that Brody was forced to turn and look at Veris to see the effect of his words for himself.
Veris was sitting upon the high bed, a frown between his brows. His bare chest gleamed from the light of the candle next to the bed. The puckers and scars from old wounds were like a familiar map, whose contours were known and steady.
“You have never tried to send me away before,” Veris said quietly. “You have never tried to make me angry so that I might go away by myself.”
Brody swallowed.
“I see it only now. I see it clearly.” Veris looked at him. “What calamity has happened that would make you, of all people, try to fool me?”
Brody whirled back to the window and the dark view below of a somnolent village and a peaceful countryside. He pressed his hand into the edge of the window, hard enough to make the stone bite into his flesh. His heart would not cease!
“Brody.” Veris spoke from right behind him. His hand rested upon Brody’s shoulder, this time with more insistence.
Brody reluctantly turned to look at him. “Do not insist upon an explanation. You will not like it.”
“I already do not like it.” Veris said. “We agreed that truth between us was the only way we could stay together when the world would have it otherwise. Now, you a
re hiding from me.”
Brody leaned against the wall beside the window, wishing he could push through the wall and escape. But the stone remained unmoved and Veris expected a response. He was cornered. There was no escape other than to humiliate himself and risk hurting Veris with the truth.
Brody curled his hand into a fist. “I desire…another.”
There. He had spoken the unpalatable truth.
Now he watched Veris carefully.
Veris’ eyes narrowed and a small frown ridged the flesh between his brows. “Desires of the flesh come and go,” he said slowly. “This is something more, or you would not be trying to tear your heart from your chest in mortification the way you are right now.”
Brody let out a breath. “I don’t know what it is. If it is a passing matter, then it is unlike any other that I have felt.”
“And the object of your passions?”
Brody shook his head. “I will not name them. It is of little interest to you, as I have no intention of ever—”
“Do not swear you will never act upon your feelings,” Veris said quickly.
Brody blinked.
“You roil like a man possessed. You have resorted to lies and tried to send me away. This is no little matter.” Veris crossed his arms. “Is it love?”
Pain speared Brody’s gut. “No! I know what love is. This is not it.”
Veris’ expression softened and his arms lowered. “We live much longer than any mortal man but we are beset by human feelings and emotions and always will be. We two must work to arrange our own rules and customs, that work for our betterment, regardless of what the world might think if we were unwise enough to reveal them.”
“What are you saying?”
“Give me the name.” Veris spoke gently. “Then we can deal with this together.”
Brody couldn’t meet his eyes. The truth was too painful to speak aloud.
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