by Denise Lynn
He stepped back as if shoved by an unseen hand. ‘We are married.’
His tone held an undercurrent of sadness. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. This was what she wanted to avoid. But since she’d already said too much, she had to find a way to explain herself. ‘Neither of us wed for something as petty or useless as love. Both of us know what kind of pain it causes. I don’t want it, Elrik. I don’t want to care for you in a way that will bring me nothing but heartache.’
‘Avelyn, do you seek to separate us over something you cannot control? If I died in battle today, would you grieve my loss?’
She gasped as agony washed over her at just the thought. ‘Greatly. I would miss you terribly.’
‘What would you miss?’
What would she miss? His touch, the sound of his voice, his laugh. The shimmering warmth of his gaze. His sigh of contentment and moan of satisfaction. ‘I would miss you—all of you. Everything about you.’
He approached her to gather her close. ‘I will gain possession of Roul before the sun sets this day. You and the others will be joining me at our keep tomorrow.’
‘So soon?’
‘Yes. That soon. Do not send me away wondering if you will still be here when I return.’
‘I would not do that to you.’ She shook her head. ‘Elrik, I will not run away from you. If I were to ever leave...it would be with your knowledge.’
‘Your hesitation tells me that you have given this no thought.’
‘Not until this moment, no, I haven’t.’ She leaned against him, sighing as his arms came around her. ‘Elrik, my mind is in conflict with these feelings I don’t understand. I don’t know what to think any more.’
‘Then stop thinking. Stop tearing everything apart to look at it so closely.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Listen to the feelings instead.’
‘No. My mother wasted her entire life pining over someone she could never have instead of realising that he’d never been hers to begin with. Had she thought with her head instead of letting feelings rule her, she might not have died bitter, lonely and sad.’
‘You are not your mother. I am most assuredly not Brandr. I am not someone you could never have—I am someone you already do have. For just a day or two, a very short time, try not to think about me, or this marriage of ours.’
‘I don’t know if I can do that.’
‘Of course, you can. You do it by instinct when you are angry or afraid. You don’t think about it—you react. That’s all I ask you try. Close your eyes and let your heart lead you. Just for a short time.’
‘This coming from a man who mere weeks ago claimed that he wished not to wed anyone? A man who believed not in love or tender feelings?’
He laughed softly. ‘I know little about love or tender feelings. All I do know is that when I am with you, I have no desire to be anywhere else.’
‘I feel the same way, but I don’t understand why.’
He grasped her shoulders and pulled her away. ‘That is what you need to stop doing. What difference does why make? Who cares why? It simply is the way it is. What else do you need to know?’
She frowned, trying unsuccessfully to sort it out, then placed a hand on his chest. ‘For right now, I need know nothing else.’
‘Good. Now, let us eat and discuss your half-brother with Samuel and Fulke, so we can get this day over.’
Soon, too soon, she watched him ride away leaving Samuel and Fulke standing at her side. She’d tried so hard to make Elrik take his men with him. With Osbert still out there, he needed the extra protection more than she.
But he’d flatly refused, quickly becoming angry enough to order her to stop begging. All she could do now was hope and pray that Osbert was as unsuccessful in killing her husband as he had been trying to kill her.
Hope, pray and pace.
And pace she did. Nothing held her attention. Every little sound—pans clanging together, the scrape of blades being sharpened, the clink of a guard’s chainmail—had her ready to jump out of her skin until she wanted to do nothing more than scream.
* * *
By the time the evening meal came around, she was so sick with worry that nothing the cook tried to tempt her into eating looked, sounded or smelled appealing. It wasn’t food she craved—it was the sound of Elrik’s voice.
She didn’t care if it was the deep rumble of his laugh, or the cold harshness of anger—she simply needed to know he was safe and sound.
Heavy footsteps behind her made her glance over her shoulder. Samuel and Fulke stopped alongside. ‘I like this not.’
She looked up at Fulke. ‘And you think I do?’
‘He said the fighting was all but over and that the only thing left to do was to send this trespasser and his followers out of the keep.’
Samuel only repeated what Elrik had told all of them earlier.
‘Then perhaps one, or both, of you need to go find out what is happening to cause this delay.’
They both looked at her and shook their heads. Fulke said, ‘He would kill us if we left you.’
‘Who do you answer to? Him, or me?’
‘You,’ they answered in unison.
‘Well, what are you waiting for then?’
Fulke tipped his head towards the horses, telling Samuel, ‘You go. I’ll keep guard.’
Saddling up his horse quickly with the help of a younger lad, Samuel rode out of camp.
Avelyn’s stomach still knotted with the sense that something was wrong. She couldn’t shake the trepidation, this odd knowing, that danger chased her husband.
‘Lady Avelyn!’
The pounding of hooves and a strange voice shouting her name sent her running to the middle of the camp. Fulke followed, a string of curses leaving his mouth in a loud rush.
Elrik’s squire jerked the reins of his horse, bringing the lathered animal to a rearing stop. Three other men, guards, followed suit. Fulke grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the beasts’ paths.
Out of breath, filthy and blood-spattered, the squire fell to his knees at her feet, gasping, ‘My lady.’
Unable to still the shaking of her legs, Avelyn dropped to the ground and grasped his shoulders. ‘You are injured.’
‘Not...my...blood.’
Her head spun. She knew whose blood splattered his tunic before he said, ‘Lord Elrik... My lady...he...’
‘No. No. No.’ Avelyn rose to stagger backwards away from the blood, away from what her eyes saw and her heart felt.
No. She refused to accept what her gut was telling her. He was not dead.
They’d come too far. He’d risked too much for him to have perished now.
More horses thundered into the camp. She turned to see the men, but her vision failed her. Clouded by her fear, they were nothing more than blurry, unrecognisable forms.
A whine, a high-pitched moan rang in her ears, blocking out the voices around her.
Without warning, a strong pair of arms pulled her forcefully against a hard chest. Links of chainmail bit into her cheek. She struggled against the near-brutal hold until she was lifted from her feet and a low, rumbling growl brushed hot against her ear.
Relief at the menacing sound collided with rage and she beat her fists uselessly against his back. ‘Damn you, Elrik.’
‘And you said you couldn’t let your heart lead you.’
‘So, you let me believe the worst, just as a test?’
‘God, no, woman. I lost a race back to camp is all. Seems my squire is a bit lighter in the saddle than I.’
‘Don’t ever do that again.’
‘Lose a race?’
He’d intentionally misunderstood. She glared at him. ‘Put me down.’
When he lowered her to the ground, she scolded, ‘You knew I was waiting for you. You knew I would be worried. Don’t you ever put me
through that again. Ever. Do you hear me?’
He reached out and brushed his thumb and a finger beneath her eyes, then held his hand up to study them and said, ‘These can’t possibly be tears. If they were, I would have to wonder if perhaps you may have let yourself care for me.’
She spun around and took one step away before he grasped her wrist. ‘Come, I’ll tease you no more.’
‘Liar.’ She leaned against his chest.
‘Probably.’ He ran a hand through her hair to tilt her head back. ‘Are you ready to go for a ride?’
‘Where?’
‘Roul.’ He tossed his nasal helmet to a nearby page and pushed the mail head covering back to rest against his neck.
‘Elrik, the sun has begun to set. It will soon be—you are bleeding!’
‘It is nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ She swiped a finger across his brow. ‘Feels like blood to me.’ Taking his hand, she led him over to a stool and pushed him down, asking, ‘How did this happen?’
He snorted.
She snorted back at him, adding, ‘That is not an answer.’
Before he could say anything, her heart skipped a beat. ‘It was not Osbert, was it?’
‘No. He nor his companions have been seen.’
‘Then how?’
‘The fool who tried to take Roul thought challenging me to a fight would somehow be a wise move.’
Avelyn motioned to one of the women who brought her a cloth and a bucket of water. She wiped the drying blood from his brow and tsked. ‘That’ll leave a scar. What did he hit you with?’
‘His helmet.’
‘And you let him?’
‘It’s not as if I was expecting him to ram his head into my face.’
‘And where is this fool now?’
‘Safely imprisoned in one of the Duke’s cells. He is no longer my problem.’
She dipped the cloth back into the water and wrung it out before lifting it towards him again. He caught her hand, stopping her. ‘Are you finished?’
‘This should be stitched closed.’
‘Can you ply a needle?’
‘I can.’ She laughed. ‘However, it will be far from pretty.’
‘Heaven forbid you mar this lovely visage.’
‘It is a very handsome visage and I would prefer it not be used as a cloth for sewing practice.’
‘I will make you a deal. We go to Roul now and if it is still bleeding when we arrive, you and Samuel can argue over who can do a cleaner stitch.’
She heard Samuel’s chortle from behind her. He tapped her on the shoulder. ‘My lady?’
When she turned around, he handed her the reins to a saddled Little Lady.
‘Elrik, it will soon be dark, can we not wait until morning?’
‘No. The men can carry torches to light our way through the forest. Once we crest the top of the hill, the moon will provide enough light. I want to spend this night in our keep, Avelyn. Under a roof and in a bed.’
A bed. She smiled at the idea of sleeping with him in a real bed instead of a pallet and nodded. ‘Then by all means, Roul it is.’
Chapter Seventeen
Once through the dark forest, they rode up a hill. Elrik stopped at the top and waved an arm, saying, ‘From here, north to the sea, and from the crumbling Roman wall on the east, to the other side of the forest on the west are the borders of Roul.’
Avelyn followed the sweep of his arm, realising that the area covered so much land, that even in the broad light of day she would not be able see those borders. Samuel’s low whistle caught her attention and she looked in the direction of his stare.
Far off in the distance four towers rose towards the sky. She could see pinpricks of flickering light—torches meant to light the entrance, perhaps. Her desperate grip on the cantle of her saddle was the only thing that kept her seated. ‘That can’t be Roul Keep.’
Elrik chuckled. ‘No.’
Relief flooded her.
‘Those are the barbican towers on the outer wall.’
The relief disappeared, leaving her weak and near dizzy. ‘Elrik...’ She let her words trail off, uncertain what to say and more uncertain what her place would be in something that large...that grand.
He looked down at her and smiled. ‘I’m told that these lands have been held by the Roul family for three generations. They have had the time and the wealth to fortify and enlarge Roul. A strong arm is needed to hold this land for Normandy. I swore to the Duke that I was that man. Do you think I was wrong?’
Avelyn swallowed. She couldn’t argue his strength, or his determination. He was obviously able to command, his men followed him without question. ‘No. You were not wrong.’
He nodded. ‘We are wasting time.’
As they rode down the hill and across the open grassy field, Elrik explained, ‘The forests are full of old-growth trees that will supply the lumber for the wharf and ship building.’ He glanced at Samuel and Fulke. ‘We will do the same as we do on Roul Isle and only utilise sections of the forests at a time, replanting what is taken.’
At her frown, Fulke said, ‘Otherwise we would soon run out of trees.’
‘You can’t see them from here, but there are wheat fields and pastures for sheep closer to the coast. The mill is within the walls, as is the town.’
Avelyn asked, ‘There is no village outside the walls?’
‘Not any longer. There had been a small one, also near the coast, but it was overrun by those who threatened to take unlawful possession of Roul.’
‘Where do the villagers live now?’
‘Lord Geoffrey provided tents that we erected in the outer bailey.’
A fine solution for now, but Avelyn knew that eventually those people would begin to chafe living so enclosed.
‘Do you plan to rebuild the village?’
‘I’ve already spoken with the elders and tomorrow they will gather men to start clearing out the rubble.’
Yes. He would be a good lord for Roul.
The clouds parted, letting the full light of the moon shine down, and Avelyn stared in shock at the sight before her. Behind the tall towers of the wall, a keep appeared, reaching towards the sky and dwarfing the stone towers.
‘And that is Roul. It began as a Roman fort centuries past on a rocky area that juts out into the sea. The base is actually part of the rock cliff, doing away with the need for a surrounding wall. Instead, the outer and inner walls form a half-circle around the keep from one edge of the sheer cliff coast to the other.’
‘It is a castle.’
Elrik nodded. ‘That is what I first thought also. Lord Geoffrey said it was built that tall so that seeing out over the water is possible while still being able to keep watch beyond the walls.’
‘How many bedchambers are there?’
‘Bedchambers?’
She nodded. He had told her that she needed to fill the bedchambers with children and she wanted to know just how many they were talking about.
‘I haven’t yet been through the entire keep, but from what I remember, there are eight, maybe nine bedchambers.’
She gasped. ‘My lord, the first thing we are going to do is discuss that renegotiation you mentioned.’
At first, he frowned, but soon his confusion cleared and he burst out laughing. ‘I suppose we could keep a couple of the chambers free of children and use them for visitors instead.’
Her sigh of relief would have been humorous had they not arrived at the main gate tower. The portcullis was lowered to prevent entry. Eight men guarded the entrance—four on each tower.
Elrik looked up at the men and shouted, ‘Open this gate.’
An older guard nodded to the others and within moments she heard the scraping groan of the iron gate being winched up.
Elrik waved her forwar
d. ‘Shall we?’
They rode side by side under the gate. She noted the grille above them, spanning the width and length of the twin gate towers. The guards peered down at her through the openings. Thankfully they were only curious and not attempting to toss rocks, hot oil, or arrows down at her as they would in a time of defence.
Once inside the outer yard, the first thing she noticed was that it was overcrowded with people and animals. She saw the tents that had been erected for those who had been forced from their homes. There was nothing worse than losing one’s home—especially when it was all you had. Thankfully they would begin rebuilding the village soon.
The next thing she noticed was a gathering of mounted guards, a dozen perhaps, all dressed in mail with tunics of black trimmed in silver.
She looked at Elrik.
He nodded. ‘From Roul Isle and King David.’
As they approached, the guards split into two single file rows, one on each side of the well-worn path leading to the inner wall. The men at the head of each line acknowledged Elrik by tapping their fist to their chest and then waving the line forward.
The main gate was open. No guards appeared on either of the towers. Without stopping, they rode beneath another iron grate, larger than the one at the outer wall. This wall was higher and wide enough for them to ride four abreast.
Once inside the inner bailey, she understood why the outer yard had been so crowded—the only signs of life here were stable hands and pages who ran forward to take charge of the horses and the guards. There had to be at least fifty men standing in tight formation, shoulder to shoulder, four deep.
Some of them she recognised as guards from the ships, others were unfamiliar to her. None of them wore the black and silver of Roul. The men who had ridden from the camp with her, Elrik, Samuel and Fulke dismounted and joined the formation.
The twelve guards who’d joined them at the inner bailey, the ones who were Elrik’s men by the colours of their tunics, moved their horses into a single line behind her and Elrik.
