Kellington eyed Keats. “Is that what my father told you?”
“He told me it was a vicious siege.”
She thought on that a moment, feeling her guard come down somewhat. Exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm her at the moment. “Aye, it was,” she said wearily. “It was bloody and traumatic and horrifying. It was hell.”
De Vesci nodded knowingly. “That is because de Velt is bloody and traumatic and horrifying. I am sorry that you were exposed to such terror. Certainly not fitting for a proper young lady.”
Kellington sensed they were up to something though she wasn’t sure what it was. “I survived,” she said. “And there is more to de Velt than what is said about him. Much more.”
“So I understand,” de Vesci said. “Your father tells me that de Velt wishes to marry you.”
She nodded vigorously. “I know that his reputation brands him as a merciless killer. But I have seen far more to the man than that. He is kind, he is humorous, and he tries very hard to understand things that do not come easily to him.”
“Like what?”
“Like compassion and mercy,” she was becoming passionate about the conversation. “His father raised him to be the way he is. The man showed him no love, no kindness, only death and destruction. But that is not all Jax is; it is simply all that he knows. He wants to learn about the things in life that bring more fulfillment than murder and devastation. He wants to learn about love and happiness.”
“And he wants you to teach him?”
“Of course he does. And he is learning quite well. He is a good student.”
De Vesci cast a long look at Keats; the man’s face was taut with emotion. To hear his daughter speak so about de Velt was making him ill. De Vesci returned his attention to Kellington.
“My lady,” he said quietly. “I have been living under the threat of de Velt for four years. In fact, I gave him Foulburn Castle far to the north so that he would stay away from my holdings. That worked, for a time. But he went after Pelinom and, according to your father, rode from there three days ago en route to conquer yet another castle. Probably one of my holdings. And it will not stop there; it will never stop with de Velt. He will not be satisfied until he has all of the borders in a vise.”
Kellington could not dispute that. “He is an ambitious man,” she said simply. “I have told him that ambition and death do not have to go hand in hand. And he is not the only knight in England that goes about wreaking havoc.”
“But he is the worst,” de Vesci countered. “The king himself fears him.”
“But I am telling you that he is not as the beast that everyone paints him out to be,” she was trying to stress a point without becoming emotional. “The Jax de Velt I have come to know is, frankly, a delightful man. I adore him and he adores me. And I will marry him, mark my words.”
Keats looked away; he couldn’t take any more. De Vesci’s small brown eyes were fixed on the lady; she certainly didn’t look mad. But her words were pure insanity.
“Did de Velt tell you where he was going when he left Pelinom?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said honestly. “He would not tell me.”
“Did he say when he would be back?”
She eyed her father, knowing she had already divulged that information. “He told me ten days.”
De Vesci spoke over his shoulder to the knight still standing in the shadows. “Then he cannot have gone far,” he said. “Denedor, which castles are within a two or three day ride of Pelinom?”
Sir Crosby Denedor stepped out of the shadows and into the light; he was a big man, older, with very blond hair and pale blue eyes. When he spoke, it was with a deep and steady voice. “I can think of four, my lord,” he said. “Norham, White Crag, Caerleon and Covent Garden.”
De Vesci scowled. “He would not dare try to take Covent Garden, would he?” it was a rhetorical question; he did not really expect an answer. “Only a madman would try to take that God-forsaken place. It’s full of nuns that fight like men.” He looked back at Kellington. “Are you sure you do not know where he went?”
“He would not tell me.”
“If you knew, would you tell me?”
“No, my lord.”
He grunted. “I cannot fault her for an honest answer.” De Vesci had said all he wished to say and turned for the door. “Keats, stay with your daughter if you wish. We will speak more on Pelinom in the morning.”
Keats had no intention of staying with Kellington at the moment; he couldn’t stand to see the hate in her eyes for him and he frankly couldn’t stomach looking at a woman who was in love with de Velt. He followed de Vesci and Denedor out into the hall. Denedor locked the door behind them and they continued down the corridor.
“We’ll get nothing more out of her tonight,” de Vesci said. “Perhaps I will send Denedor to speak with her on the morrow. He has a way with women.”
Keats looked at de Vesci’s captain. “I do not want her interrogated.”
De Vesci waved him off. “I meant nothing of the sort. ’Tis simply that Denedor has more women admirers than he knows what to do with. Something about that Viking blood has women’s hearts stirring.”
De Vesci snorted while Denedor simply lifted an eyebrow. Keats didn’t care about any of it.
“I know my daughter,” he said. “She can be stubborn. If you are attempting to force her to tell you what she knows, she won’t. She’ll dig her heels in and you’ll never get anything from her.”
“She survived de Velt,” Denedor said from behind the two men. “She must have strength.”
Both Keats and de Vesci nodded, losing themselves in thought. Denedor spoke again.
“If I may make a suggestion, my lord,” he said.
De Vesci nodded. “By all means.”
Denedor opened his mouth to speak, faltered, then opened it again. “If what the lady says is true and de Velt really does want to marry her, then it would seem to me that we have an excellent situation on our hands.”
“What do you mean?” De Vesci asked.
“What I mean is simple, my lord. We do not have to find de Velt at all. It doesn’t matter where he has gone. We have his lady; once he finds out where she is, my suspicion is, if everything she said was true, that he will come to her.”
De Vesci and Keats suddenly came to a halt.
“Of course,” de Vesci hissed. “We lure him to us with Lady Kellington as bait.”
Keats shook his head. “There may be a problem with that,” he said. “If you recall, I told you that his knights conspired with me to remove her from Pelinom. Although they know where I have taken her, it is highly doubtful they will tell him. They do not want him to know.”
“Then we send a messenger.”
“His knights will kill the messenger before he gets close to de Velt.”
“Then what would you suggest?”
Keats thought a moment. “It would seem to me that only a man who knows Pelinom and the surrounding land intimately would have any chance of contacting de Velt,” he said. “His knights keep him insulated. Once he returns to Pelinom, there would be little chance of contacting him. It would seem to me that the only chance to speak with the man would be to intercept him as he returns to Pelinom. He must be met on the open road.”
De Vesci looked at Keats. So did Denedor. Keats could read their minds and he shrugged weakly. “It would seem that I am the logical choice to deliver the message, though I doubt he would not sense a trap should I show a sudden change of heart. He surely suspects I will not allow him to marry my daughter.”
“Then you will have to convince him otherwise to get him here.”
“I do not know if I can. And his second in command is the one who conspired against him; I would be taking serious chances against that one. He is always at de Velt’s side.”
“Make your decision, Keats. Time is growing short. If he told your daughter he would return in ten days, then we have only six left.”
&
nbsp; Keats knew that. “It seems that I have little choice.”
The plan was slowly taking shape. They traveled several feet in silence before Denedor spoke again.
“You are aware that de Velt has been married before,” he said quietly.
Keats looked at him, shocked, but de Vesci simply nodded his head. “When I first gifted him with Foulburn. He was married to a woman he had brought with him from France, I was told.”
“What happened to her?” Keats was terrified to ask.
Both de Vesci and Denedor shook their heads. “No one seems to know,” Denedor said. “Some say she ran away. Some say that de Velt killed her in a rage. In any case, it is a big mystery. Perhaps you should tell your daughter. It might cause her to rethink her determination to marry the man. But I wouldn’t tell her before we lay our trap.”
Keats didn’t say another word as they continued down the corridor and into the brisk night beyond.
*
White Crag had not been burned as Pelinom had been. For the most part, it was intact. As Jax stood on the wall walk watching the sun set on the day of his conquest, he felt a distinct sense of satisfaction. And an equally distinct sense of longing; he missed Kellington so strongly that it was manifesting itself as a physical pain in his chest. His arms ached to hold her, his lips to kiss her. He was almost coming to wish he had never left her. But the taking of White Crag had been planned and he would not deviate from those plans. It took him some time to realized, however, that this time, his heart simply wasn’t in it. It was back at Pelinom with Kellington.
Amadeo mounted the battlements, searching for Jax along the parapet. He spied him several yards away and made his way over to him.
“The castle is secured for the night, my lord,” he reported. “The family, with the exception of the oldest daughter, is in the vault.”
Jax nodded, thinking of the Lady Anne up in her bower, holding a great secret. He wasn’t even sure why he was concerned if his men found out the truth, only that he was. It would disrupt things. Already, he knew that they were having difficulty grasping his involvement with Lady Kellington. If they found out about the Lady Anne, they would not understand. Truth was, he wasn’t sure he understood, either. All he knew was that he had left Lady Anne’s chamber feeling more satisfied than he had in a very long time.
“And what about the eldest daughter?” Jax asked, his manner casual.
Amadeo shook his head, leaning against the parapet wall. “She’s still in her room. From the way she was screaming earlier, I doubt she’s in any condition to move down to the vault with the rest of her family. Unless, of course, that is your wish.”
Jax scratched his ear under his mail hauberk. “Leave her. I may have need of her again.”
Amadeo smirked, looking out over the dark landscape. “I almost feel sorry for the woman.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “You surely must have a good deal of pent-up frustration in the wake of Pelinom.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because of Lady Kellington. It seemed that she frustrated you a good deal.”
Jax eyed him. “She did nothing of the kind.”
“I apologize, then,” Amadeo replied. “I meant no disrespect to you. I simply meant that she was headstrong and a headstrong woman can be most frustrating. From the way she behaved at times, I am frankly surprised that you never took your frustrations out on her.”
Jax looked at him, full-on. “If you have something to say about Lady Kellington, be plain about it. But I would warn you; since I intend to marry the woman, you are speaking about my wife. I will not take kindly to negative or disrespectful comments.”
Amadeo could hear it in his voice; he wasn’t any closer to pushing the lady out of his mind as he had been the very moment he departed Pelinom and his disappointment returned. Amadeo began to think of the lady and her father, presumably miles away from Pelinom by now, never to be heard from again. He felt an odd sense of pleasure at that thought. Jax de Velt was only good in warfare when he was furious and bitter. It had worked well enough over the past four years. Now it would work well enough for the next four.
“Again, my apologies,” Amadeo said quietly. “I have nothing negative to say about Lady Kellington. I was simply making conversation.”
Jax sighed heavily. “I know you, Amadeo. You never say anything without a motive and although I cannot discern what your motive might be about Lady Kellington, I will tell you now that she is off-limits to you. You will not think about her or converse about her. I do not want her on your thoughts. She belongs to me and as such, is untouchable. She is above all else. Do I make myself abundantly clear?”
“You do, my lord.”
“Good,” Jax cast him a long glance as if to pound the subject home with his mere gaze. Satisfied that Amadeo did indeed comprehend, he moved on to the subject at hand. “Now, since White Crag is presumably secured, I would section off one hundred men to staff the garrison upon our departure. Leave the bodies of the soldiers up; I see no reason to bury them although I know we buried the army at Pelinom. Those were different circumstances. Tomorrow I will determine the wealth of this place and once we have finished securing what goods we can carry, we will move on to Caerleon to the southwest.”
“White Crag has massive stores in the basements,” Amadeo said. “I do not believe we can carry all of it.”
“Then we’ll carry what we can and move on,” Jax replied. “Leave Michael here to command the post.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Amadeo watched Jax as the man quit the wall walk and descended to the dark bailey. He continued to watch as he crossed to the keep and mounted the steps into the great hall. Amadeo turned back to the moonlit countryside, watching the glitter of the river in the distance, when he suddenly heard the screaming resume from Lady Anne’s third floor bower.
He turned towards the sounds, smiling faintly in the weak moon light, pleased that Jax was once again brutalizing the woman. Whatever he was doing, it must be awful because the lady was screaming at the top of her lungs. It was a comforting sound and he returned to his post.
An hour later, Jax left Lady Anne’s room with two newly purchased fur cloaks, what was left of her jewelry and a never-worn bronze gown straight from Amsterdam.
Anne was amassing quite a collection of gold coins from the Dark Lord.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kellington had awoken in the bed of her prison chamber the next morning at dawn. She was in the habit of rising early so it was not unusual for her to be awake at daybreak. Her mind was awash with troubles; Jax, her father, Pelinom, the harvest… so many things whirling through her head that it had been difficult to sleep at all. She was exhausted.
She was still in the blue gown that she had traveled in the previous day. She did not know where her things were and, at the moment, she did not particularly care. As she gazed from the second floor window into the world beyond, she realized she was being held in a chamber that was built into the outside wall of Alnwick. When she looked down, there was a huge drop to an embankment that rolled almost straight down into a ditch… so much for jumping from the window.
So she sat by the lancet opening, watching the sunrise, wondering where Jax was and wondering further how she was going to get word to him of what had happened. Thoughts of conspiracy against her by Jax’s knights brought dull nausea to the pit of her stomach; then again, her own father conspired against her as well. It would seem that too many people were determined to keep her and Jax apart.
The door to her chamber suddenly rattled. Kellington turned in time to see the panel open and Lavaine enter. She was carrying Kellington’s satchel and was followed by de Vesci’s tall, blond knight. Denedor shut the door quietly behind him, standing post beside it as if fearful Kellington would rush for the door and try to escape. But Kellington wasn’t looking at the door; she was looking at Lavaine.
“Put that bag down and get out,” she snarled at the petite
brunette. “I want you out of my sight.”
Lavaine welled up immediately. “Kelli, please,” she whispered. “What your father did… it was for your own good, darling. We were so fearful for you.”
Until that very moment, Kellington hadn’t been sure if Lavaine had been in on the plot or not. She assumed so because the woman hadn’t reacted other than to cry when they had arrived at Alnwick. Kellington’s demand to her had been a test and the woman had confirmed her suspicions. Furious, she reached out and yanked her satchel from Lavaine’s hand.
“Get out,” she barked. “Get out before I throw this at you!”
Lavaine began to sob. “Kelli, I am sorry if you are upset,” she wept. “But you must believe that your father is trying to protect you. We are all trying to protect you. Can you not understand that?”
Kellington threw the bag; it barely missed Lavaine. The woman yelped and scurried to the door. Denedor opened it, ushering her out. But he remained, watching Kellington as she turned back to the lancet windows. He observed her a moment, the slender curve of her back and the gentle flare of her hips. She was a lovely creature; he’d noticed from the start. She was strong, too, as he’d found out when he had grabbed her from behind the day she had arrived. She’d almost kicked out his knees.
“My lady,” he said politely. “I am to ask if you require anything to make your stay more comfortable.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, inspecting him from head to toe. She remembered him from the day before, the big knight lingering in the shadow. “What is your name?”
“Denedor, my lady.”
She cocked her head. “That is a strange name.”
“It is my surname. I do not use my Christian name.”
“Why not?”
“Because my full name is Njordul Ael Crosby-Denedor, named for my mother’s father. But it reminds people along this coast of the raiding Northmen so I do not use my first name at all.”
“I see,” she said. “How long have you been a knight, Sir Denedor?”
“I have been a knight for twenty years.”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 158
