Lady of Lyonsbridge

by Ana Seymour

  She drew herself up as tall as she could. “Aye,” she said stiffly, “I’d like some time.”

  “Very well,” he said pleasantly. He motioned to one of his men. “The lady Alyce would like an escort to her chamber. Wait outside her door until she tells you that she’d like to talk with me again.”

  Alyce looked down to where the Dunstan guards still held Alfred. “If you want any hope of cooperation from me,” she said, “you’ll leave my people alone.”

  Dunstan followed the direction of her gaze. He gave a curt nod, and the two guards released their hold on the old man.

  Satisfied for the moment, Alyce put her chin up and let the Dunstan guard lead the way out of the hall.

  “It’s just not the way I would have approached it, Thomas,” Kenton said with a grin. It was a pleasant January evening and they’d decided to sleep outside, finding the cold air preferable to the crowded conditions inside the great hall of Nottingham Castle. King Richard, his ransom paid, had returned to England and had decided to stay at Nottingham through Easter. The building was full to the rafters. The great hall, where a number of Thomas’s men had bunked down, reeked of sweat and smoke and the odor of men and clothes unwashed after months on the Continent.

  Kenton and Thomas had bathed that morning. It was a habit Thomas had acquired as a boy at the insistence of his grandmother Ellen. When she had come from Normandy with the intention of “civilizing” the backward Saxons of Lyonsbridge, she’d ended up becoming more Saxon than Norman herself. But she’d upgraded the standards of cleanliness at the rambling old castle and had extended the neatness campaign to the people themselves.

  His grandfather Connor sometimes grumbled that a yearly bath should be good enough for any soldier, but Thomas knew Connor himself often called for tubs of water to be brought to his chambers, especially those evenings when he and his wife had spent the entire dinner exchanging those special intimate glances that always had the rest of the Lyonsbridge household nodding in indulgent approval.

  “From what I know of your lady Alyce, she’s not one to respond well to being bullied,” Kenton continued.

  Thomas lay back on his bedroll and looked up at the stars. “Aye, but she didn’t seem to respond well to my protestations of love, either.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t know the right words to use,” Kenton teased. “I could give you some lessons.”

  “Oh, could you now?”

  “Aye. Are you forgetting that I always had three girls to your one when we were lads together at Lyonsbridge?”

  “That was only because, being a decent sort, I preferred mine one at a time rather than in bunches.”

  Kenton laughed. “Well, I will admit that ’twas you who caught the fair Alyce’s eye. She barely glanced at me, but as to these protestations of love, exactly how much time did you devote to them?”

  “You know very well that I had to leave almost immediately to meet you and the men in Dover.”

  Kenton lay back beside his friend and turned his gaze up to the sky as well. “Did you tell her that her eyes sparkled like all the stars in the heavens?” he asked, gesturing above him. “That her skin was as soft as the petals of a flower? That her voice rivaled the lark in its melody?”

  Thomas gave his friend a sardonic glance. “’Swounds, Kent, we only had a short time together. I wasn’t going to waste it all on words.”

  Kenton shook his head. “That could be your mistake. Women need that kind of thing.”

  “Alyce is not like that. She has more of a practical bent.”

  “Ah, Thomas, all women need to be wooed, practical or no.”

  Thomas gave a big sigh. “I did my best, considering the limitations of time. She wasn’t impressed.”

  “Maybe she’s not the one for you after all.”

  Thomas stared straight up at the stars. “Aye, she is. I’d stake my life on it, Kent.”

  “It seems to me you already have. Or at least your happiness. You’ve gotten Richard to agree to grant you her hand in marriage. If it turns out to be a mistake, there will be no help for it.”

  “It won’t. She’s just as much in love with me as I am with her. All I need is some time to convince her of the fact.”

  “And you think the way to do it is by having Richard’s men drag her here and force her to marry you?”

  “At least it will give me the time I need with her. In truth, Kenton, I can hardly sleep for thinking about her.”

  Kenton stuffed a boot under his head for a pillow and rolled over. “If you’re so anxious to see her again, why didn’t you go with the men Richard sent to fetch her?”

  Thomas chuckled. “I’m in love, Kenton, but I’ve not yet gone entirely crazy.” Then he rolled to the opposite side and settled into his blankets, ready for one more night of restless sleep.

  “So who has the king sent to fetch her?”

  Thomas was silent for a moment. Finally he answered, “Ranulf.”

  Kenton sat bolt upright. “Ranulf? And you let him go?”

  Thomas grinned. “Why not? ’Tis time my little brother gets a taste of the world.”

  Lettie stood in the door frame, trying to use her solid, round form to block the tall man from entering the room. “Milady is sleeping,” she told him.

  Philip of Dunstan glowered at the little woman. “Move aside,” he said. When Lettie stuck out her lip and refused to budge, he stepped back and motioned to two of his men, who were waiting just outside the door. In an instant they had each taken one of Lettie’s arms, to carry her out of the room.

  Dunstan stepped back across the threshold and approached the bed. In spite of Lettie’s remark, Alyce had not been sleeping. She stood as he approached.

  “You’ve had two days to think this over, Lady Alyce,” he said politely. “And I have business elsewhere.”

  “Please feel free to go about your business, Baron. It’s a waste of your time to stay here.”

  Dunstan paced from one side of her to the other, as if surveying a horse he intended to purchase.

  “The fault may be mine,” he said, still deceptively gracious. “Mayhap I didn’t make myself clear enough. I came here to claim the bride that was promised to me by Prince John. I’ll not leave until our betrothal has been made official.”

  Alyce shook her head, her chin up. “Then settle in for a long stay, milord. I have neither obligation nor desire to marry you.”

  He stopped directly in front of her, reached out a hand and put his long fingers around her neck. “Again, I haven’t made myself clear. I’m not giving you a choice.”

  She felt the painful pressure of his thumb and finger under her ears, but she stood firm. “You can’t force me into marriage. Even before I paid the tax, it was only the king or his regent who could do that.”

  He leaned closer to her and increased the pressure on her neck. “You might as well learn from the beginning, Alyce, my pet. I can do whatever I want where you’re concerned. You’re going to belong to me, body—” he released her neck and ran his hand down her bodice, to take a rough hold on her breast “—and soul.”

  For a moment, Alyce thought she was going to be sick, but she swallowed down the nausea as she drew back her right hand and slapped the baron across the cheek as hard as she could.

  Even as big as he was, the blow made him stagger. His eyes narrowed to dark points of fury. He shoved her back on the pallet, then bent over her, his knee on her stomach to hold her down.

  “I don’t mind a woman of spirit, Alyce. But understand this. That’s the last time you’ll ever hit me, unless you would like to see your kindly old nursemaid quartered and staked out to rot.”

  The bile rose in Alyce’s throat again. She looked around the room frantically for a weapon. There was a crockery pitcher sitting on the washstand. If she could just reach it…

  Dunstan’s knee dug into her stomach and his hands pinned her shoulders. Her arm couldn’t quite cover the distance to the pitcher. She tried to distract him with more argument. �
�We may be missing a king, but there is still a rule of law in England. I can’t believe that even Prince John will condone you taking me by threats and force.”

  “Prince John will condone what I tell him to—” Dunstan began, but before he could finish, one of his soldiers burst into the room.

  Dunstan turned on the man, his expression thunderous. “What do you want?” he roared.

  “I beg your pardon, my liege,” the man said, shaking. “I thought you should know that a contingent of soldiers has just entered the gates. They’ve come from King Richard.”

  Dunstan looked startled. “From Prince John, you mean.”

  The man shook his head vigorously. “No, milord. From Richard. He’s back. King Richard has returned to England.”

  Chapter Eleven

  It had taken less than an hour for Dunstan to gather his men and ride out of Sherborne. The stunning news of Richard’s return had made the baron lose all interest in thoughts of betrothals.

  Furiously, he’d questioned the young knight who’d brought the word. Richard’s man didn’t seem the least intimidated by the older man’s wrath. Calmly, he’d explained that Richard had been ransomed and had returned to England to reestablish his crown. He was staying in Nottingham through the Easter holidays.

  Dunstan had scarcely glanced at Alyce as he’d ordered his men to prepare to ride immediately to Prince John to warn him of the king’s return.

  Alyce had watched them go with relief. Without the timely interruption of King Richard’s emissary, she wasn’t sure what her fate might have been. But thoughts of Dunstan faded as she stood opposite the young man who had come from Richard, her mouth gaping open in astonishment. Twice she’d asked the man to repeat the message he’d brought to her, and still she could not believe it.

  “I’ve paid a tax to buy my freedom from my feudal obligation to the king,” she said, though she knew that it would do her little good to argue with this man, who obviously had no authority to do anything other than follow his orders.

  “Aye, milady,” the young knight said agreeably. “So you’ve explained, but my orders are to fetch you back to Nottingham, where the king awaits your pleasure.”

  Alyce went up on her tiptoes trying to keep the fury from exploding out the top of her head. “My pleasure would be to have nothing to do with the king or this new bridegroom he has picked out for me. Who is the man, anyway?”

  “’Tis one of the king’s closest supporters, milady.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “Aye, Thomas. Sir Thomas Brand.”

  Another Thomas, she thought grimly. Just to add to the aggravation.

  “And what do they call you?”

  “Ranulf, milady.”

  “Well, Sir Ranulf, you can tell your king and his Sir Thomas that I refuse their kind offer of helping me with my plans for the future. From now on, I intend to take care of myself.”

  The slender young knight was sharper than she gave him credit for. Respectfully, not meeting her gaze too directly, he asked, “Is that what you were doing with Lord Dunstan, milady? Planning for your future?”

  She couldn’t deny that Richard’s troops had come at a fortuitous time. It was astute of Ranulf to point out that to all appearances she had not been doing a very good job of taking care of herself when they arrived. But she spoke firmly. “As you no doubt have guessed, Baron Dunstan was no more a welcome guest here than you. But I would have found a way to deal with him if your arrival had not driven him away.” She was not as sure of this as she sounded, but Dunstan was no longer an immediate threat, whereas this man was.

  “I’m sure you would, milady. I’ve been told of your…er…skill at dealing with visitors.”

  Alyce flushed. Who knew what tales they were telling of her at court? She studied the man, who stood before her patiently, with no sign of agitation. If they knew she was difficult to deal with, they must have had confidence in this Ranulf or they’d not have sent him. He was a pleasant-looking man, slender, but with broad shoulders and handsome features. Something about him appeared familiar, but she couldn’t decide what it was.

  “If they told you about me, weren’t you afraid to come?”

  Ranulf flashed a grin, and at that moment she realized what had seemed familiar. “Sir Ranulf, your surname is not Havilland?”

  “Nay, milady,” he answered, and did not offer anything further.

  She sighed. “What are your orders if I refuse to go with you?”

  “My only orders are to bring you, milady. The means were left to my discretion.”

  He was nowhere near as big or as menacing as Dunstan, but she had the feeling that Sir Ranulf was capable of throwing her on the back of a horse and keeping her tied there all the way to Nottingham if she resisted.

  Thomas had said that, unlike Prince John, King Richard was an honorable man. Perhaps her best chance lay in going to see the king herself to plead her case.

  “Tell me, Sir Ranulf,” she asked, “do you consider Richard to be a fair king? You may speak freely. No one is here to report your words.”

  Ranulf smiled at her, and once again his expression carried a haunting resemblance to Thomas Havilland. “Aye, milady. Richard is a fair king and a good man.”

  “Then I’ll go with you peacefully. I’d like to get this matter settled once and for all before the road to Sherborne is worn into trenches by foolish men riding back and forth trying to meddle in my life.”

  Nottingham Castle was the grandest place Alyce had ever seen. Within the thick walls of the castle grounds were a number of buildings, centering around a magnificent keep that had stood since the days of the Conquerer.

  Ranulf escorted her inside with his usual courtesy. His company had proven surprisingly agreeable on the two-day ride. She didn’t know if it was his youthful self-confidence or his odd resemblance to Thomas, but she felt immediately comfortable with him. His good humor helped her forget for long moments the reason they were riding toward Nottingham.

  The trip would have been made more quickly if Alyce hadn’t insisted that Lettie accompany her. Without a complaint, Ranulf had arranged for a litter to carry the older woman, and had slowed the pace of the journey accordingly.

  As they rode across the courtyard to the stables, Alyce admitted to herself that she had some curiosity about seeing the great King Richard—the Lion Heart, they’d begun to call him after his valiant rescue of the beleaguered Christian stronghold at Jaffa. “Has the king recovered from his wounds?” she asked Ranulf.

  “Aye, milady,” the young knight replied. He helped her dismount and handed the reins of their horses to a stable boy. “He’s hale and hearty again. ’Tis unfortunate, some say.”

  “Unfortunate?”

  “Because he’s already talking about leading another Crusade.”

  “Perhaps I’ll be lucky and my new bridegroom will go with him,” Alyce said with a grimace.

  “I’d not count on it, milady,” Ranulf said dryly.

  They stood waiting as Lettie’s litter rumbled up. The nurse climbed out, stretching her back and moaning at the jouncing ride.

  “We’ll get you to a bed, Lettie dear,” Alyce said.

  The older woman shook her head and waved her hand back and forth at the couple as though shooing away a fly. “Go on, Allie, go on ahead. I’m fine, and I won’t be leaving here until I see that our things are unloaded properly.”

  With an amused smile at how the round little woman set the stable boys to scurrying around, Ranulf offered his arm to escort Alyce across the littered yard of the bailey. “I don’t think you’ll be as disappointed with your future husband as you expect, milady,” he said as they started walking toward the door to the main keep. “He’s a very well-favored man.”

  Curious in spite of herself, she asked, “What does he look like?”

  There was an impish glint in Ranulf’s eyes. “There’s a certain family resemblance among all the Brand brothers.”

  “He has brothers?”

>   “Aye, two. Though one is still missing in the Holy Lands.” A shadow crossed his face.

  “A family resemblance won’t help me, Ranulf, since I’ve never made the acquaintance of any of the Brands.”

  “Aye, milady, you have.” They’d almost reached the door when he stopped walking and gave a little bow. “Ranulf Brand, at your service.”

  Alyce drew back, astonished. “His brother?”

  “Aye, Lady Alyce. Sir Thomas is my big brother.” Then he grasped her shoulders and pulled her toward him for a perfunctory kiss on each cheek. “Welcome to Nottingham, sister-in-law.”

  She was just recovering from her surprise when the huge door of the castle slammed open and a familiar voice shouted angrily, “I told you to bring her safely, you blackguard, not to put your meaty paws on her.”

  Ranulf turned toward the newcomer without alarm, a grin on his face. “I’m merely giving your bride a proper welcome to the city, Thomas, since you weren’t around to perform the task.”

  His bride? Alyce gaped at the two men. Her prospective bridegroom, Thomas Brand, was none other than her former lover, Thomas Havilland?

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked Ranulf, indignant and a little hurt. She had liked the affable young knight. Now she could add him to the list of men who had in some way betrayed her.

  Ranulf gave her an apologetic smile. “Thomas wasn’t sure you’d come if you knew whom you were about to marry.” He shrugged and gave Thomas a teasing glance. “I didn’t understand it, frankly. My brother here is normally a supremely cocky rascal, but it seems he’s met his match in you, Lady Alyce. You have him breaking out in nervous sweats and—”

  Thomas bounded down the remaining two stairs and gave his brother a not-too-friendly punch on the arm. “That’ll be enough, little brother. You’ve finished your job, and I can take over the welcoming duties from here on.”