Lord of Lyonsbridge

by Ana Seymour

  The door creaked open and Ellen entered, a petulant expression on her face. “I’ve come because I deemed it unseemly that the servants should see my displeasure, Sebastian,” she said icily. “But I’ll have you know that I’m not to be summoned by you in such fashion ever again. You are not my father, nor even my guardian here. I’m fully of age.”

  “Forgive me, Cousin,” Sebastian said, rising to his feet with obvious reluctance, his pinched face growing a shade more sallow. “We’ve matters to discuss in private, and I thought ‘twould be easier here than in the more open spaces of your chambers or the great hal.”

  “What matters?” Ellen asked, unmollified. She’d had the headache and had been in a temper for two days, ever since her ride with Connor Brand, and her cousin’s imperious summons that morning had helped neither her mood nor the throbbing of her temples.

  Sir William had risen from his chair as well and held it for her to sit. There were only two chairs in the room, so he remained standing as Sebastian resumed his seat and spoke evenly: “As you know, ‘twas I whom your father appointed to look over the monies at Lyonsbridge, and I’m trying to go over the accounts with Sir William. It appears that there are still economies to be made.”

  She frowned and squinted. Her cousin sat framed in bright sunlight coming through the leaded glass of the room’s only window, and looking directly at him made her eyes hurt. “Economies such as what?” she asked.

  Sebastian flipped open the leather book under his hand and looked at it idly. “I’d thought to sell off most of the horses, for one thing. ‘Tis your father’s intention that his soldiers will come with their own mounts. We have no need of so many of these thick English stock.”

  “They’re good horses,” Ellen argued.

  “For plowing, mayhap,” Sebastian said with a scornful twist of his thin lips.

  “Nay, I’ve seen them run.”

  Sebastian peered at his cousin through narrowed eyes. “I had report that two days ago you left the castle once again without escort, Cousin. I’d hate to have to report such behavior to your father.”

  Ellen sat up in her chair, bristling with anger. “You forget yourself, Cousin, and this is the last time I’ll warn you. You may be in charge of the numbers—” She broke off and waved her hand dismissively at the accounting book. “But you’re not in charge of me. I hold my behavior responsible to my father and none other.”

  “’Tis your safety that concerns me, Cousin. Nothing more. You’ll recall that Father Martin himself warned us that it was foolhardy for you to—”

  Ellen stood. Her head would not continue to tolerate the audience, in part because she knew there was justice behind her cousin’s admonishment If Sebastian knew what had actually transpired when she had left the castle alone, he’d most assuredly be contacting her father, no matter how she might argue against it.

  “Mind your ledgers, Cousin, and leave my behavior to me. I have no intention of putting myself at risk. In fact, I’ve taken on one of the village girls as my attendant, and if I have occasion to leave the castle, she’ll be at my side.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Sir William nodding approval. “The cooper’s Sarah. A comely lass, milady,” he said.

  Something in the way he licked his lips and bobbed his beard as he spoke made Ellen uncomfortable with his remark, but she brushed away the feeling. Sir William was a minor annoyance. It was Sebastian who was grating on her nerves today.

  “I’m not feeling well,” she told him. “If you have something to discuss with me further, you may do so after the midday meal. In my chambers,” she added firmly.

  Sebastian did not rise, but sat watching her, tapping the tips of his fingers together. “Very well, Cousin,” he said softly.

  She nodded and began to leave, unaware of the malice that lit his black eyes as soon as her back was turned.

  Ellen found she was enjoying the companionship of her new attendant more than she ever had the various maids and chaperons her father had assigned back in Normandy. These had always seemed either too old and tedious to be of any fun or too much in awe of her position to dare demonstrate a spark of life.

  Sarah, on the other hand, once she got over her initial shyness, was warm and friendly, and flatteringly eager to hear Ellen’s tales of her romantic conquests at the various courts of Europe.

  “I expect I’ll never so much as see a man from outside Lyonsbridge,” the girl sighed as the two finished folding and putting away a box full of linens they’d set out for airing.

  Ellen clapped her hands, gleeful as a child. “Sarah, I’ll take you back to Normandy with me when I finish here. Then you’ll see all manner of gentleman. Mayhap even catch the eye of one of the lower ranks.”

  Sarah looked wistful for a moment, then shook her head. “’Tis kind of you, mistress, but I couldn’t leave me mum. She needs me, at least till the twins are bigger.”

  Neither one uttered the unspoken thought that it was possible the twins would be needing Sarah if the widow Cooper succumbed to her disease.

  “Are you sure she’s well enough for you to be here with me?” Ellen asked.

  “Aye. She’s that happy for me, truly. And now that the weather’s turned, she’s much better.”

  “I’m glad, for my sake as well as yours. I appreciate your company, Sarah.”

  The girl beamed at her mistress’s words. “I’d stay with you forever, milady, if I didn’t have to think about me family first. I’m not sure me mum would have survived this winter freeze without the tonic you sent.”

  Ellen closed the big chest and wiped her hands on her blue linen skirt. Little by little she’d taken to wearing her plainer clothes. It seemed silly to weigh herself down with impractical jewels and heavy gold baubles when the only people of her rank to impress were Sebastian and Sir William. In fact, she’d begun to like the more modest Saxon garb.

  “We’ve gone through almost all the chests here,” she said, looking around the linen room. “In truth, the old lords of this place had a wealth of beautiful things. I wonder what happened to the family?”

  Sarah offered no suggestion.

  Boosting herself to her feet, Ellen stretched the kink out of her back and asked, “Shall we begin the box room next or do you think we’ve done enough for one day?”

  “Whatever milady says,” Sarah answered, coming more easily to her feet.

  Both started slightly at a knock on the door behind them. It was one of the castle pages, a stocky lad named Rolf, who looked first at Sarah, blushed, then addressed Ellen. “Milady, the horse master would beg an audience with you.”

  Ellen’s mouth went dry. “Master Brand?” she asked.

  “Aye, milady.”

  “What does he want?” It was a foolish question. Connor Brand would not be about to confide his business to a page.

  “I know not, milady. He’s awaiting you in the solar.”

  Ellen glanced at Sarah. One of the reasons she’d employed the girl was so that she’d not have to be alone-with Brand or any of the other men in the castle. But suddenly she was reluctant to include the girl in their meeting.

  She fought a small battle with good sense, then said to her, “Sarah, you may be dismissed for today. We’ll begin on the box room on the morrow.”

  Sarah did not appear to notice her mistress’s hesitation. Instead she was busy watching the page out of the corner of her eyes. Her cheekbones were tinged with pink.

  Ellen had an uncharacteristically romantic impulse. “Rolf, you may also be excused to escort Mistress Cooper back to the village” she said, and smiled to herself as both the young people’s faces lit with pleasure.

  The smile stayed with her halfway down the big stone stairs, but faded as she began to regret her decision to send Sarah away. She hadn’t seen Connor since the day of their race, nearly a week before. She hadn’t intended to see him again, certainly not alone. Yet he had “begged an audience” with her. Was that a ruse? Surely he wouldn’t dare come into the cas
tle right under her cousin’s nose and take the kind of liberty he had back in the forest?

  By the time she reached the wide double doors to the solar, the palms of her hands were clammy with cold sweat.

  She should have refused to see him entirely. Or made him come back when she could see him in the company of her cousin. She should turn around and run as fast as possible back up the stairs and into the safety of her chambers.

  Blessed Mary, she said to herself sternly. The man was her servant. They’d gotten carried away that day in the forest, but she’d made it quite clear that there would be no repetition of such an occurrence. It was absurd that the mistress of the entire household should be nervous about meeting with one of her servants. In spite of the fact that she’d lain abed these past seven nights with the memory of his lips on hers.

  Connor paced from one end of the room to another, his long legs covering the distance in just four strides. He’d rather be chewing a barrel of nails than facing an audience with the lady of Lyonsbridge. At least the solar lacked the chill that much of the rest of the castle took on at this time of year. He remembered playing here as a child, moving along the stone floor with the progression of the sun as it streamed through the high windows.

  He stopped walking and closed his eyes, bringing into his head a vision of the three of them, he, Geoff and Martin, turning their game into one of the inevitable wrestling matches, much to their lady mother’s despair.

  “You wanted to see me, Master Brand,” said a voice from the door, breaking his reverie.

  He opened his eyes and immediately met hers. A week of distance had not softened their impact. He felt it still in his gullet and then lower.

  “Good day, milady,” he managed to answer.

  She held herself regally, once again the queen of faeries, rather than the wood sprite who had melted in his arms for one endless moment.

  “State your business, horse master.” There was not a flicker in her golden gaze.

  So be it, he thought. ‘Twould no doubt be easier for them both to pretend that their encounter in the forest had never happened. “They want to sell my horses,” he said, his voice as direct as her own.

  Her lips softened into the ghost of a smile. “To sell the Lord of Lyonsbridge’s horses, you mean.”

  Connor let his shoulders relax imperceptibly. Somehow he had the feeling that, Norman or no, she would be his ally in this thing. “Aye. Your cousin wants to sell the Lyonsbridge horses. ‘Tis a foolish notion.”

  One delicate black eyebrow rose as she pointed out, “My father gave over the management of the estate to Sebastian. I assume he has his reasons.”

  “I care not for his reasons. Lyonsbridge stock is the best in all England. Breed them, if you like. Trade or sell a few, but do not replace them with your scrawny Norman bloods.”

  His arguments had been more measured and reasoned when he’d rehearsed them back at the stable, but his tongue seemed to trip over itself in the most damnable fashion when he was with her. Though he’d sensed that she was sympathetic, perhaps it had been a mistake to come to her. He should have taken his case to Phippen himself.

  She moved toward him from where she’d been standing near the door. He could hear each swish of her skirts, each soft fall of her slippers. She was dressed more simply than he’d seen her, in a plain, soft blue frock that molded to her breasts like a night rail.

  “If I recall, my scrawny Norman mare almost defeated your Lyonsbridge stallion the other day.” She clamped down on her tongue as she finished talking, as though regretting that she’d brought up the incident.

  Connor had had no intention of mentioning it either, but it was obvious from the tension between them that it was on both their minds. He smiled. “Almost, milady, and due in large part to the rider’s skill.”

  The compliment softened her expression further, and Connor began to feel on more familiar ground. She was, after all, a woman. He may have had little practice in. dealing with Normans, but he’d had ample experience with females.

  She moved to a curved bench beneath one of the windows and sat, not looking at him. “You may be surprised to learn, Master Brand, that I agree with you about the horses. ‘Tis shortsighted of my cousin to get rid of them for quick coin when instead they could serve to improve my father’s stock for future generations.”

  Connor stood looking down at her, since she’d not invited him to sit. “I applaud your wisdom, milady.”

  “Unfortunately, Sebastian’s an ogre about the money,” she said, still talking to empty space. “If we don’t get it from the horses, he may try to take more from the people.”

  “There’s no more to take. The entire shire is only now beginning to recover from the years of fighting. Just when things seem to be going better, Sir William raises the taxes.”

  Ellen nodded, lost in thought. “I don’t know why men take such pleasure in accumulating more and more soldiers and arms and riding off on crusades to the other end of the earth.”

  “’Tis a holy call,” Connor said. He believed in the cause, although, as he intended to honor the pledge he’d made to his mother, it was one he himself would never answer.

  “I’d as lief believe in a less bloodthirsty God,” she said. “The scriptures preach peace and forgiveness.”

  Connor remained silent. He had little experience with theology and none at all with women who argued theology, which was properly a man’s realm. He must remember to ask his brother’s opinion on the matter.

  Ellen stood and, finally, looked at him directly. “Nonetheless, my cousin will have his revenues, squeezed as they may be. I shall try to work a compromise. We’ll sell no more than one of every five horses, and of that one-fifth, we shall retain breeding rights for Lyonsbridge.”

  It was a good solution, and Connor regarded the lovely Norman with a respect that kept him from bristling as she abruptly indicated the audience was over and left the room.

  Lady Ellen had a sharp head on her shoulders as well as a beautiful one, he realized, as the big doors shut behind her. The combination was doubly dangerous to his peace of mind. He sighed and started toward the rear entrance to the solar. Mayhap Martin would have advice for him on that subject as well.

  In the end they made quite a show of it, a somber parade of sorts. Many of the villagers stopped their daily labors and came up to the castle, some carrying baskets of food to eat as they sat on the grass. The villagers watched as Connor, the stable boys and a number of helpers who had been recruited for the day, brought all four score of the Lyonsbridge horses out into the stable yard.

  Those to be sold would be culled from the rest and taken to market at York the following day by several of Sebastian Phippen’s men. Connor had pointedly not volunteered to make the trip with them, but he had agreed to give recommendations about which mounts should go.

  John Cooper had been by his side all day, full of questions and avidly watching as Connor examined each mount as if he’d never seen it before, though he knew each one as well as the palm of his own hand. Everyone could tell that his decisions would be painful ones.

  By midday, only six of the sixteen that were to be sold had been chosen.

  Connor looked up from his work as a delegation appeared leaving the castle gates, led by Lady Ellen herself, followed by her cousin and Sir William. For once the sight of her did not cause his pulses to race. He’d hoped to be able to complete the selection process without interference from the Normans.

  “Bring the next, John,” he told the boy, turning away from the hill where the newcomers were approaching.

  John obligingly led a cloudy roan up to the stool where Connor was perched. The animal was only a year old, but Connor had already decided that it would never show the distinction of several other horses foaled by the same mare. It would be a likely candidate for the trader’s block.

  It pranced restlessly in front of him. He stood, laid a band on the horse’s withers and said something in a low voice. The prancing stopped.
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  “See what I was telling you?” Sir William said in a loud voice, still a little way up the hill. “I don’t know how he does it. He has them tame as lambs, but they’re monstrous beasts when my men try to ride them. I’d sell off the lot.”

  Connor continued his examination of the little roan, acting as if he didn’t see the new arrivals.

  “What say you, horse master?” Sebastian called to him. “Sir William claims you cast some sort of spell over these animals, else they’d be hopeless to train.”

  Reluctantly, Connor turned to face him. “These horses are bred for strength. They’ll carry a man day and night for a sennight without faltering. You’ll not find their like in all Christendom. As to spells, I know not of what Sir William speaks. I merely train them, in service of my liege lord.”

  Sebastian picked his way the last few feet down the hill, careful not to slip in the churned up mud of the yard. “They’re not savage, then?” he asked, casting a doubtful glance at the roan’s head.

  “Nay.”

  Once they were on a level, Connor towered over the Norman, which allowed him to look over the man’s head and meet Lady Ellen’s eyes, which were dancing with mischief. “They only nip when they can tell that someone is afraid of them, Sebastian,” she told him.

  Phippen began to take a step back, but stopped when he saw Connor’s amusement. He whirled around and snapped at his cousin, “Just because your father allowed you to be raised like a hoyden spending all day long on a horse, doesn’t mean that we’re all so inclined.”

  There was no apology in Ellen’s expression. “Oh, pooh, Sebastian, don’t be a donkey. The horses won’t bite you.”

  Sebastian turned his back on her, and Connor’s amusement at the exchange between the two cousins died. The expression on Phippen’s face was nothing short of malevolent. Connor wondered if Lady Ellen was aware of the extent of her cousin’s enmity.

  “Be sure you have chosen the required number by the end of the day,” Sebastian told him. “Else we’ll sell whichever are handy. Beginning with that monster,” he added, pointing over to where Thunder was quietly standing under a tree.