Justin’s brown eyes shone. Judging by the straw clinging to his tunic, the lad had just come from the stable, where the wolfhound had birthed her litter a few weeks ago in an empty stall. “They all have fat little bellies and seem to be well.”
“’Tis good news.”
“Can I have one of the puppies? Please?”
Ash chuckled.
“Please?”
“Well…” Ash scratched his chin. While he had already decided to let Justin have his pick of the litter—the healer had suggested the pet might help to comfort the boy and ease his nightmares—Ash would prefer that Justin earn the reward. Working toward a goal would be good for the lad. ’Twould help him gain fighting skills that he would need to become a knight one day, and would also help him focus on matters other than his father’s recent death. Ash was now the boy’s guardian, since Justin’s mother had died eighteen months ago in childbirth.
“I will practice with my bow,” the lad said.
Ash’s brows rose. His late brother had been a highly skilled archer. While Ash had had a bow specially made for Justin, the boy had yet to use it very often. “Will you now?”
Justin nodded in earnest.
“Very well. If you can hit the largest archery target by the time the pups are weaned, you may keep one.”
Jumping up and down, Justin grinned. “I cannot decide whether I want the smallest one or the one with the shaggiest tail.”
“You have plenty of time to decide. The pups are not old enough to leave their mother yet.”
“True.” Justin’s smile wobbled, and then he threw himself at Ash and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his cheek against Ash’s stomach. “Thank you, Uncle.”
Ash closed his arms around the boy’s thin shoulders. He stood quietly, silently sharing the lad’s happiness and also grief. Losing a brother to a corrupted wound was difficult; losing a beloved father was even more so.
After long moments, Justin drew away. He quickly wiped his eyes on his grubby sleeve, no doubt hoping Ash wouldn’t notice. With a pang of remorse, Ash made a mental note to buy the lad some new clothes when he had the chance. Justin’s tunic was stained, too short in the sleeves, and ripped at the hem, and the rest of his garments were in equally bad condition, despite the servants’ best efforts to care for them.
“I am going to go inside now,” the boy said. “The wind is growing cold.”
“All right.” Night was settling in, falling like darkening ink across the castle and surrounding lands.
“Uncle…”
“Aye?” Ash murmured.
“Will you have time for a game of chess tonight?”
Ash smiled, for the boy was just like his father in his love of such games. “Regrettably, we must postpone our game for tonight.” As the lad’s face crumpled with disappointment, Ash added, “There is a lady—a special guest—staying in my chamber. I do not wish to disturb her by fetching the chess set.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Aye. Tomorrow.”
***
“Some wine, milady?”
“Thank you.” Pushing herself up to sitting, Rosetta accepted the goblet from Herta. The woman had told her ’twas dark outside now, which meant Rosetta had slept most of the afternoon, no doubt due to the herbal drink.
Truth be told, though, she did feel much better, although her brow still ached a bit, and her mind was fuzzy, as though she were trying to think with a head full of newly-shorn wool.
“Did you ask about my garments and shoes?” Rosetta asked.
“I am sorry, milady, but they are still being cleaned, along with your veil. The maidservants are having trouble getting out the mud stains. One of the women gave me this, though.” She collected a folded item from the trestle table and brought it to the bed.
The garment was a forest green gown made of coarse linen. Not at all what a lady would wear, but at least Rosetta would have more to wear than a chemise. Shoes, though, were essential if she was going to flee the keep. She’d have to find a pair as soon as possible.
“Shall we see how the gown fits, milady?” Herta asked, shaking out the garment.
Rosetta placed the goblet on the bedside table. “All right.”
She managed to pull aside the bedding and step down onto the floorboards, although her head swam. She quickly sat on the side of the bed and drew in deep breaths. Once her head had stopped reeling, she stood and pulled on the gown.
Herta fastened the ties down the sides. “Once you are dressed, you can see his lordship.”
See Ash again? She’d rather eat a bucketful of pickled frogs. “Nay, Herta—”
“He has invited you to join him in the great hall. He said you would likely be hungry after your rest.”
A shudder trailed through Rosetta, but she swiftly rallied her anger. Smoothing her long hair with her fingers, she said, “I have no wish to see him again. Ever.”
Herta made a small sound of distress and then went to the doorway, as if to relay Rosetta’s words.
Turning her back to the door, Rosetta hugged herself and walked to the fire, its flames casting an inviting warmth across the patterned rug. She’d already determined there was little she could use as a weapon in the chamber. Ash had obviously figured out her first thoughts would be to escape.
Mayhap she’d find something of use in Ash’s linen chests? Without a weapon, she couldn’t get past the guards outside. She glanced at the wooden chests, but they both bore iron locks. Unless she found the keys, she’d have to find a way to smash the chests open.
Hushed voices carried in the corridor, and then the door clicked shut.
“Thank you for telling his lordship that I—”
“—never wished to see him again?” Rough laughter reached her, and the fine hairs on her nape prickled. She looked back to find Ash leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “Bold words, Briar Rose, but they will not keep me from seeing you whenever I wish.”
Chapter Four
“What do you want, Ash?” Rosetta demanded.
You. He smothered the impulse to voice that desire, and said instead, “Since you will not dine with me in the great hall, I am bringing the meal to you.”
“I am not hungry.”
He grinned, a roguish curve of his mouth. “Oh, but I am.” He let his gaze wander to her lips and then down the elegant column of her throat to her bosom, as if she stood naked before him and he was appreciating what he saw—which he was. The bliaut wasn’t her usual style or quality of garment, but she still looked lovely.
Her gaze sharpened with annoyance, and she crossed her arms, mimicking his posture. From her expression, she was clearly struggling with the urge to walk over and slap him. That, however, would mean getting close to him, and he sensed her reluctance to draw near.
Was she afraid of him, or her own feelings for him? She must know that he’d never physically harm her, not under any circumstances, so that meant she didn’t trust herself. How intriguing.
A muffled clattering nose came from outside. Easing away from the door, Ash opened it, and servants entered, carrying a folding oak table.
“By the hearth,” he said.
Rosetta moved back as they set up the table. More servants followed with a linen cloth, wine, goblets, a platter of sliced bread, and bowls of stew. After pushing two chairs up to the table, the servants left, leaving him and Rosetta alone in the solar.
She hadn’t moved from her spot near his linen chests.
“Come,” he said, gesturing to the table.
“As I said—”
“I know what you said. I also know that you have not eaten since you arrived.”
“You care so much about my eating habits?”
I care so much about you. “I am responsible for everyone within my castle, including my guests.” He crossed to the table and sat. “The cook makes a good rabbit stew. ’Tis best eaten warm, not cold.”
She remained where she was, her fingers drumming on her ar
ms. Picking up a spoon, he dipped it into the rich brown broth, scooped up chunks of parsnip and carrot, and then ate the mouthful. He’d already eaten a while ago in the great hall with the rest of his subjects, but she didn’t need to know that. “Delicious,” he said.
“Ash—”
There was a plea in her voice that hadn’t been there before. Good. If he persisted, she would likely yield. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give in.
“At least try the stew,” he said, bestowing on her his most charming smile. “Please?”
She sighed. Her arms fell to her sides, and she walked to the vacant chair and sat.
“Thank you.”
“If you are here, Ash, because you want me to eat—”
“I am.”
“I will. Then you will have no reason to stay.”
God’s bones, but she was stunning, her eyes glittering with resolve and her cheekbones darkened with a rosy flush. A mischievous part of him wanted to goad her more, but she had agreed to sit and eat. He’d rather not ruin his small victories thus far.
“Once I have eaten, I will leave,” he agreed and poured her some wine. “In the meanwhile, I was hoping we could talk.”
She spooned up some stew and eyed him warily. “Talk?”
“We have not spoken to one another in years. There is much for us to catch up on.”
“I did not think you were at all interested in getting reacquainted.”
His brows rose. “Why do you say that?”
“As I mentioned before, you did not answer my letters. Nor have you made any effort to contact me—or Edric—in any other manner, even though you returned to England some time ago.”
Ash clenched his jaw. “There were good reasons for—”
“So, if you intend to ask about my relationship with Edric, beware. I do not believe I owe you any explanations.”
Oh, he did want to know about Edric, but Ash doubted she would speak of such personal matters until he had regained a little more of her trust. Sipping his wine, he waited for her to finish her mouthful. “To be honest, I would rather not discuss Edric right now. Let us begin with something easy. How are your parents?”
“Fine.”
“Still living at Millenstowe Keep, I understand.”
“Aye.”
“Your older sister?”
“She married three summers ago. She and her lord husband live in Derbyshire and have two children, a son and a daughter.”
He fought not to smile as Rosetta took another spoonful of stew, her expression softening with delight in what she was tasting.
“What about your parents?” she asked. “I remember meeting them years ago, when they came to visit you at Millenstowe.”
Regret lanced through him. “Both dead.”
Shock widened her eyes. “Oh, Ash. I am sorry.”
“So am I. They died while I was away on Crusade. They caught the sickness sweeping through my father’s lands and…never recovered.”
She looked down at her stew. “Truly, I am sorry. I cannot imagine losing one parent, let alone both of them.”
He drank more wine, wishing he could ease the pain of losing his family. “My brother inherited my sire’s keep. He ruled it until he perished from a leg injury that festered and spread corruption through his body. He died about a month ago, soon after I had returned to England. His son inherited, but he is very young and upset at losing both of his parents; his mother, you see, died a while ago in childbirth. I arranged with the crown to have the keep managed in his stead until he is old enough, and ready, to rule.”
“I see.” She took a piece of the wheat bread and broke off a chunk. “Thanks to the King, you also have a castle of your own now.”
“Damsley is a fine fortress.”
“Your estate also borders my father’s lands,” she said, her gaze holding his, “just like Edric’s.”
Ah. So she did know what a tremendous prize she was as a bride.
“You are no doubt aware that Edric’s father died not long ago,” she continued, dipping her bread into her stew, “so he became lord of Wallensford Keep.”
Caution sifted through Ash. He remembered hearing about the older Lord Sherborne’s demise from an informant, who had been convinced the death hadn’t been natural; no proof of murder, though, had been found. “I had heard that Edric’s sire died, but—”
“Is that why you abducted me before I could be married? Because you do not want Edric to lay claim to my father’s lands when my sire dies?”
Ash glanced at the fire, his mouth pressing into a hard line. He couldn’t deny the prospect of expanding his estate was an enticing one. However, there was far more at stake than his own personal gain.
“You have gone quiet,” she mused.
“I am deciding how to respond,” he countered.
“You could just be honest and admit I was right.”
His gloved hand tightened on the stem of his goblet. “I could. However—”
“You would rather not confirm the truth.”
He hissed a breath through his teeth. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but couldn’t. To ensure her safety, he had to keep his secrets, especially when much of his investigation was still ongoing. “I will not confirm what others, who do not know all of the facts, may well misinterpret.”
Surprise lit her features. “Misinterpret? Every lord wants more wealth and lands. From childhood, he is brought up to strive for those things.”
“True. Not every nobleman is willing to do what others are, though, in order to get those riches and lands.”
Her spoon landed in her bowl with a metallic clink. “Are you saying—?”
“Mmm?”
Her eyes sparked with fury. “Are you implying Edric’s only reason for marrying me is to eventually gain more riches and lands?”
Ash downed more wine, delaying his answer. The drink left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Edric cares for me.”
Nowhere near as much as I care about you.
“He respects me.”
As do I, Briar Rose.
“He has been my closest friend through the years, especially after his return from the East, and…and you have no right to make such an outlandish claim.”
Anger coiled through Ash, rising up from the simmering resentment that had been sown the day he’d been attacked. The blood streaming down into his eyes and running from his hands had been naught compared to the agony of betrayal. “You are mistaken,” he bit out. “I have every right.”
***
Rosetta’s heart pounded in her breast. Ash looked so forbidding, she wanted to shrink back in the chair. Yet, she mustn’t show weakness. She’d learned more about Ash in the past few moments than she had in all the years he’d been away, and if she wanted to outwit him, she needed to understand his reasons for acting and speaking as he had.
“Why do you believe you have such a right?”
His gaze narrowed until his eyes were glinting slits. “I know Edric better than anyone.”
“Because you are best friends?” At the last moment, she remembered he’d spoken of the friendship in the past tense.
“Were best friends.” Ash’s fingers tightened again on his wine goblet, and as the leather pulled taut across his hand, he grimaced. Ash couldn’t be comfortable wearing his gloves indoors, and yet, she hadn’t seen him without them. Why? Had he injured his hands?
As he relaxed his grip on the vessel and the discomfort faded from his features, past memories tugged at her: Ash and Edric laughing and throwing buckets of water at one another in the bailey of Millenstowe Keep; the two of them with arms draped around each other’s shoulders, grinning after winning prizes at the local tournament; Ash and Edric riding side by side over the drawbridge as they began their journey to join the King’s army and travel to far off lands to battle the Saracens, with no guarantee that they would ever return to Warwickshire.
“You were close friends with Edric when you left for Crusade.
”
The barest hint of regret flickered in Ash’s burning eyes. “Indeed, we were inseparable for many months while we sailed, marched, and battled for our King. We made other friends too, with lords who had traveled from all over England to go on Crusade. Many of them…” His bronzed throat moved with a swallow, and he looked back at the fire, his expression shadowed by grief. “They did not survive.”
“That must have been very difficult for you,” she murmured. She set aside the bread; it had started to taste like straw.
“Difficult is a far from adequate word.” He dragged a gloved hand over his chin and jaw. “One of the reasons I returned to Warwickshire months later than Edric was that I wanted to honor some of our friends’ dying wishes. One of the lords from London asked that I give his betrothed his signet ring so she’d always remember him. I needed the crown’s help to find out where she lived. There were others…” His words trailed off to silence, filled only by the snap and pop of the fire.
He suddenly seemed lonely, his soul heavy with the weight of his memories. Rosetta longed to reach across the table and touch his hand, but there was no point; he’d never feel the heat of her skin through the leather.
“I also left the East later than Edric did because I needed to heal,” Ash said quietly. “I was badly wounded when the Knights Hospitaller took me into their care. They spent long days and nights treating my injuries, but feared the wounds would become corrupted, and I would die. My fellow soldiers, you see, did not find me for some time after I was attacked, because I had become separated from the rest of the army.”
Rosetta feared for him even as she knew he had lived to tell his tale. “Did you not call for help?”
“I shouted until I was hoarse, while I prayed over and over that I would be found by friends and not the Saracens. I damaged my throat. My voice has never fully recovered.” His shoulders lifted in a stiff shrug. “The Knights Hospitaller also feared I might lose all use of my hands, but thanks to their efforts, that did not happen.”
“Mother Mary!” She couldn’t keep the horror from her voice.
His fiery gaze locked with hers. “You must have noticed my gloves.”
“A-aye, but—”
A Knight's Desire--World of de Wolfe Pack Page 4
