He followed her to the door across the hall, making sure she was properly settled. It was the polite thing to do but the glimmer in the ice blue eyes was warmer than it had ever been. When she laid the garments on the small, dusty bed, Keir stood by the door and watched her.
“I will have this room scoured clean tomorrow,” he told her. “Perhaps we can find a few female servants in town to come here and work for you and your sister.”
She eyed him. “Old, ugly women,” she lifted an eyebrow. “I will not be responsible for housing a brothel for lonely soldiers.”
He laughed softly. “You sound like… well, it does not matter. Old and ugly they will be.”
She wouldn’t let him get away so fast. “Who do I sound like?”
He was still grinning as he looked at her. “I was going to say my wife.”
“She was right.”
With a lingering grin and a sidelong glance suggesting he was coming to warm to her just the slightest, Keir bid her a good eve and shut the door. Chloë stood there a moment, listening to his footfalls fade back into the master chamber and the door shut softly.
Now that she was alone in the quiet and haunted room, she began to feel somewhat lonely for him. It was an odd sensation, knowing she must properly separate herself from him, but on the other hand, she did so enjoy his company. There was something warm, humorous and powerful about the man, qualities she found wildly attractive. Moving to the chamber door, she laid her ear against it, listening for any sound of him.
She had no idea that, in his chamber, Keir was doing the same thing. Ear against the door, he was listening for any sound from the intriguing, spectacularly beautiful woman.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ingilby could see Exelby Castle from the rise, a grassy hill covered with oak trees that provided shadowed cover to himself and his soldiers. He was riding with a party of twenty of his men from Ripley Castle and their purpose had been to ride to Exelby to see to its status. Ingilby’s scouts were constantly monitoring the castle and its repairs but the baron wanted to see for himself. He had heard that repairs were well under way.
He could see the activity from his vantage point. Exelby Castle wasn’t particularly large but it was tall and heavily fortified. Ingilby could see swarms of men on make-shift scaffolding, repairing walls and digging out the moat that was cluttered with debris from the battle. It looked like an army of ants from where he stood, all madly working to repair their shattered home.
Ingilby turned to the man directly to his left, a man who was his closest advisor and battle commander. His name was Alphonse d’Oro and he was from a particularly violent region of España, a man with great vision and warring tactics. Exelby had been his battle and although he had failed to reach his objective, he had certain done worthy damage.
“It appears as if they are making progress with the repairs,” Ingilby said to him. “Am I to understand that the family is not in residence at this time?”
Alphonse shook his head. He was a dark man with swarthy skin and black eyes, breeding the look of contempt about him.
“Nay, my lord,” his accent was very heavy. “As far as we know, they left with Coverdale. They must be at his seat of Aysgarth Castle.”
Ingilby digested that information. “Aysgarth is a big castle with a big army,” he muttered. “I will not attempt to penetrate it. Rest assured, de Geld will return to Exelby and there will be another day and time for me to gain his daughter. I will not fail a second time.”
It was an order to Alphonse, who took it in the spirit for which it was intended. “Indeed, my lord,” he replied. “We will not be caught off guard by another army arriving to support de Geld. We will be prepared.”
Ingilby cast him a long glance. “You should have already been prepared,” he said, but Alphonse did not respond. Ingilby’s gaze lingered on him before turning back to the castle and continuing. “And Coverdale’s knight? What have we found out about the man?”
Alphonse was eager to be off the subject of the failed siege and on to better news. “We sent four men to Exelby posing as masons looking for work,” he told him. “That is how we found out that the de Geld family has gone with Coverdale to Aysgarth while their castle is being repaired. We were also able to find out about this Keir St. Héver. Apparently, he is a man with a great reputation. He used to serve the king.”
“I already know that,” Ingilby snapped impatiently. “What more do we know?”
Alphonse’s dark eyes moved to the castle in the distance. “We know that the man is a garrison commander for Pendragon Castle,” he told him. “It is common knowledge. He is highly respected. Also, the man lost his family three years ago when Pendragon was compromised during a siege. His wife and daughter were killed but his young son was taken as a prize.”
Ingilby looked interested. “Is this so?” he asked. “Who is Coverdale’s enemy that he would lay siege to Pendragon?”
“Hellbeck Castle,” Alphonse informed him. “Lord Stain.”
“Stain?” Ingilby said with some distain. “I know of him. I have heard he eats raw peacock for supper and bathes in the blood of his enemies. Is it this madman who has St. Héver’s son?”
Alphonse nodded. “It is speculated,” he replied. “St. Héver spent a year trying to locate his son but has yet to find him. According to the men at Exelby, the man has not given up hope. He continues to search for him.”
And it is this man who threatens me, Ingilby thought to himself. A man who has suffered tragedy is weakened whether or not he realizes it. Although Ingilby had never met Keir St. Héver, the threat alone regarding Chloë de Geld was an introduction. Now they were adversaries who had never even met. It was a matter of pride now and Ingilby was on Keir’s scent.
“Send a missive to Lord Stain and tell him I will make a handsome offer for the son of St. Héver if he still has possession of him,” he told Alphonse. Then he laughed. “It would do well for me to hold the boy because the next time we lay siege to Exelby, we can hold off Coverdale’s assistance simply by letting them know that I hold St. Héver’s long lost son. Do you think St. Héver would do anything stupid if he knows I hold the boy? Of course not. He, and Coverdale, will mark time while I demolish Exelby and take the Goddess for my own. Perhaps I will not even marry the woman. Perhaps I shall simply make her my whore as an example to all who defy my wishes.”
He was chuckling lewdly, as was Alphonse. It was always wise to concur with Ingilby in any arena.
“A brilliant plan, my lord,” Alphonse agreed.
“See to it personally, Alphonse. Know that I will not tolerate failure.”
Alphonse already knew that. He did not plan to fail a second time.
*
The berg of Kirkby Stephen was more cosmopolitan than Keir had let on. About two hours north of Pendragon, it had a concentrated town center with merchants and vendors lined up in a tight circle around the village square. The day was bright and windy, and when the party from Pendragon arrived with three fully armored knights, two small women and forty men-at-arms, the people from town turned out to inspect the important visitors. The square was soon a very crowded place.
Dressed in the same clothing they had been wearing for four days, Chloë and Cassandra were ready to procure their “necessities”. Cassandra was the first one off her palfrey, taking a moment to scope out the circle of stalls before charging into the first shop. Carrying the coinage their father had given them, Chloë followed.
Keir gave orders to his men to spread out around the square and watch the road leading in and out of the town. Lucan stayed in the center of the square, monitoring the activity of the area, as Keir and Michael followed the ladies. They stood outside the door of the merchant stall, listening to Cassandra ask the merchant who the finest seamstress in town was. The man recommended his wife and the negotiations began in earnest.
Keir stood in the doorway, watching Cassandra barter with the merchant as Chloë moved among the piles of fabrics, pulling out luscio
us dark blues, yellows and greens. She was very calculated and methodical in her fabric hunt and a little boy, the son of the merchant, followed her around and took the fabric that they pulled from the shelves.
Keir found himself watching Chloë like a hawk, her graceful movements and the serious expression on her beautiful face. She had a job to do and she was completing it concisely. He had to admire the sisters for their tactics because before the merchant realized it, he was barely making a profit on the material and had committed his wife to sewing six surcoats by the end of the day.
The man eventually hailed his wife, perhaps in a panic, and the woman appeared with a very old woman in tow, who immediately began measuring Cassandra and Chloë with her gnarled hands. Chloë explained what they wanted, the older women listened carefully, and with that, the commitment had been made. Paying the man half of what they had promised him with the agreement that they would pay the remainder when they returned for the dresses, the ladies quit the shop and moved on to their next target.
Keir and Michael followed them as they walked the streets, inspecting the leather worker’s stall as well as the stall of a man who sold all manner of jewelry. Cassandra wanted jewelry but Chloë was more practical and told her sister they needed to buy their “necessities” first before buying things they truly didn’t need. Michael stepped in at the disappointed look on Cassandra’s face and offered to buy her whatever she wished, which thrilled Cassandra. Chloë just shook her head at her greedy sister and continued on to the next shop with Keir close behind her.
Chloë kept turning around, seeing Keir walking behind her like a massive, silent sentinel. His helm was on, his visor up, and his ice blue eyes were scanning the area for any threats, perceived or otherwise. But when Chloë turned around to look at him, he focused on her instead and she grinned at him.
“You do not have to walk behind me like a servant,” she waved her hand at him, motioning him forward. “Please walk beside me.”
Keir grunted. “I am afraid to.”
Her smiled broadened. “Why?”
“Because you might do to me what you did to that merchant in the shop. I will soon find myself sewing all of your dresses for a mere pittance.”
She laughed at him, a glorious gesture that had him captivated. “I will not force you to sew my coats.”
“Promise?”
She nodded. “I do,” she cast him a long glance over her shoulder. “Now, will you walk with me?”
Fighting off a grin, Keir moved up beside her. He and Chloë exchange a few flirtatious glances, mostly Chloë looking at him as he pretended not to look at her. But he was most definitely looking. As they approached another small stall, he took her hand and gently tucked it into the crook of his elbow.
Chloë held on to him tightly, as if afraid he might try to get away. He refused to look at her, knowing she was smiling up at him, but he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he reached down with his other hand and captured the fingers clasped around his elbow. She gripped his fingers tightly and Keir could feel his heart lighten, giddiness filling him as he’d not felt in years. He did look at her, then, only to see that she was still smiling at him. He winked at her. It was the best he could do without making a fool out of himself completely.
Chloë was so swept up in looking at the man that she hadn’t realized they were at their destination. Reluctantly, she let him go and began to peruse the small selection of carved wooden boxes that contained oils to soften the skin. The oils were contained in small clay jars nestled in the boxes and she carefully went about smelling them.
She pulled Keir into her inspection and would hold up one jar for him to smell, watch his reaction, and then move on to the next one. He liked the florals and not the spices like cinnamon, clove or thyme, so Chloë purchased four phials of floral oils, three lumpy white bars of Castile soap, two ivory hair combs, and a phial of oil that was supposed to make the hair soft and shiny. The shopkeeper, a small man with rotted teeth, wrapped it all up in roughly woven fabric for her to take with her.
Keir carried the packages as they headed back to find Cassandra. They could see the blond sister and Michael across the square at another merchant shop and they moved in that direction. The wind was picking up, blowing escaped tendrils from Chloë’s braided hair across her face as they crossed the muddy square with the well in the center of it.
Women from the village were gathering there with their wash and children to collect water. The well was a gathering place for tasks as well as gossip. Several of the women spied Keir, tall and strong and handsome, and immediately the blouses began to come down and expose white shoulders and smiling, come-hither faces focused on him.
Chloë noticed the female attention on Keir and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, a silent inference of possession. The man didn’t belong to her in the least but she wanted every woman in town to think he did. She gazed up at him, smiling, realizing that she wished he did belong to her. She wished it with all her heart. Keir caught her look and winked at her. It was enough of a warm gesture to crush the cluster of hopeful female faces.
Victorious, Chloë was silently laughing at her triumph but more than that, she wondered if Keir might actually find interest in her. He was certainly acting the part and hope bloomed in her heart. As they passed the cluster of hussies, one of Keir’s soldiers swiftly approached. The man saluted sharply.
“My lord,” he said to Keir. “Riders approach – two knights and about ten men-at-arms. They are riding hard from the north and will very soon be upon us.”
Keir was cool. “Colors?”
“None that we could see, my lord.”
Keir nodded. “Very well,” he grasped Chloë by the hand and began to pull her towards Michael and her sister as the soldier followed along. He snapped orders to the soldier. “Put ten men armed with crossbows into hiding along the north road. I want the rest of them in town with me. Hurry.”
The soldier fled. Chloë skipped along next to Keir, feeling some apprehension. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not yet,” he told her. “But I would rather be prepared. You and your sister will stay with Michael while I see who approaches.”
Michael and Cassandra saw the pair approaching quickly. Chloë was practically running to keep up with Keir’s long-legged strides. Michael had seen the soldier speak with Keir, the same man who was now running off, past the women who had tried to attract Keir and disappearing between a pair of stalls to the north. He looked expectantly to Keir as the man approached with his hands full of packages and Chloë on his arm.
“Orders, my lord?” he asked.
Keir handed him the packages. “You will take the women to safety until I know who approaches the town,” he told him. “I am told two knights and ten men-at-arms are swift on the approach.”
Michael understood. “Aye, my lord,” he had the packages in one hand and Cassandra in the other. Chloë was still holding on to Keir and he nodded to her encouraging. “Come along, my lady.”
Chloë appeared hesitant. She clutched Keir, looking anxiously to Michael and then back to Keir again. “You are not going to battle, are you?” she asked softly.
He could hear the fear in her voice. The last time unknown knights were sighted in her world, they had attacked her home. Keir smiled at her, patting her hand.
“Nay,” he assured her. “But it is prudent to be cautious. I am sure there is nothing to fret over.”
“Then let me come with you.”
His smile faded. “Nay,” he caressed the fingers in his grip. “You will go with Michael to safety.”
Chloë didn’t want to argue with him but she was apprehensive. Suddenly, a flood of St. Héver men came rushing into the town square and Lucan was in the middle of them, directing the men to take position. Chloë’s apprehension grew but Keir watched the activity calmly before turning to her once again. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her warm fingers.
“Ple
ase,” he murmured. “Go with Michael. Everything will be well.”
“Promise?”
His smile returned. “I do.”
“Keir!” Lucan suddenly called from his position near the well. “They are splitting off.”
Keir strained to catch a glimpse of what Lucan was talking about, craning his neck to see up the northern road. “Where?”
Lucan put a hand in the air and motioned in circles. “All around us,” he said. “They are moving to the east and west.”
Keir didn’t have any more time to waste. Kissing Chloë’s hand again, he pushed her in Michael’s direction as he moved away from her and unsheathed his broadsword. Michael was moving to pull the women into the nearest stall when a charger bearing full armor and a well –armed knight suddenly burst from the alleyway behind them, nearly running Chloë over. She shrieked in fear and bolted off, separating herself from Michael and Cassandra.
Keir wasn’t far off; he saw what had happened and he rushed in Chloë’s direction, holding his sword leveled at the big and fearsome knight.
“You whoreskin,” he spat as he pulled Chloë against him protectively. “I ought to take your head off for nearly trampling her.”
The knight just sat there, his helmed head unmoving. Then, he reached up an enormous glove and flipped up the visor. Ice blue eyes glimmered at Keir.
“It is good to see you, too, brother.”
Keir growled at the man, shaking his head with frustration. “What in the hell are you doing, Kurt?”
Kurtis St. Héver’s icy eyes were glittering with warmth at his younger brother. “Did I frighten you, little girl?”
“You did not. But you nearly ran the lady over.”
Kurtis’ gaze moved from his brother to the spectacular redhead in his arms. She was a magnificent vision of porcelain skin and perfect features. His expression moved from warm greeting to cool regard.
“My apologies,” he said, his voice deep.
Keir still had hold of Chloë against him, realizing that she was trembling. Simply to comfort the shaken woman, he caressed her back soothingly as she pressed fearfully against him.
England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 132
