“Whiskey,” she sniffed. Then she looked at Braxton. “I will need your help in holding him. He’ll not like the sting of this, not in the least.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Pour it on the wound to cleanse it.”
Braxton lifted an eyebrow. “You are not going to have him drink it to dull the pain?”
She shook her head. “In this case, it would do much better on the wound than in his belly. You must trust me.”
He did. Graehm took hold of one arm while Dallas took the other arm and threw himself over Geoff’s body. Braxton took the legs. When the knights were property braced, Braxton nodded at her.
She had been right. Geoff hadn’t liked the sting of the whiskey burn one bit.
CHAPTER NINE
It was dusk in Cumbria, a magical time when the last threads of daylight were woven into the tapestry of the coming night. Gray usually enjoyed the dusk, as there was something innately peaceful in the time before the fall of darkness. But tonight she found no real peace; sitting beside Geoff’s sleeping form, she played a waiting game in contest to see who could control the knight’s future. If she won the match, he would live. If she lost, then Death would claim him. It was difficult not to be discouraged as time ticked on and the knight remained unconscious.
The tournament had ended some time ago and most of the contestants and fans had already left. A few hung around, mostly to catch a glimpse of Braxton and his men as they milled in and out of the larger of the two crimson tents. Though Braxton had withdrawn from the competition in order to assist Gray with Geoff, Dallas and Graehm had continued at Braxton’s insistence. Graehm was unseated in his match by Rickard Burton, who then went up against Dallas for the semifinal round. Dallas managed to unseat Burton, causing the man to display a full-blown temper tantrum on the tournament field. The crowd had laughed him right out of the arena.
The final round was between Dallas and Sir Niclas, the same knight who had accidentally driven splinters into Geoff’s neck. The match, and the prize, was meant to have been a victory in Geoff’s name, but Dallas lost in three very hard-fought glances and the black knight from Northumbria emerged the victor. It had been a bitter defeat to accept, but Dallas had done so graciously. Braxton was just grateful he wasn’t down another knight; given de Aughton’s reputation, that could have very well been the case.
After stitching up Geoff’s neck, Gray had decided it was best not to move him for the night and Braxton had agreed. But they hadn’t planned on making a night of it, so Braxton took Dallas with him to procure food for the evening. The men at arms, meanwhile, built a roaring bonfire in the area between the two tents where Brooke, Edgar and Norman now sat. A couple of soldiers set to fashioning a spit, much to Brooke’s curiosity. She sat on a stump one of the men had found for her, eating candied pieces of sweet pumpkin that Braxton had purchased for her and watching the activity. She sucked down the pumpkin treat, nearly oblivious to the real reason why they were still in Milnthorpe. In her young mind, this was all a grand adventure and she intended to enjoy every minute.
When the spit was finally ready and the sunset cast gray and purple shadows across the sky, Brooke glanced over to see Edgar glaring at her. Mouth full of pumpkin, she frowned at him.
“Why do you look at me like that, Edgar?” she asked.
He started to open his mouth but Norman smacked him in the head to shut him up. The move only infuriated Brooke.
“Norman, why did you hit him?” she demanded. “Tell me why Edgar is glowering at me. Has my face gone green?”
Norman looked at her; he was a steady young lad, even-tempered, in contrast to his mercurial younger brother. “Your face has not gone green, my lady,” he said. “Edgar is simply exhausted. We all are. It has been a trying day.”
His calm explanation satisfied her until Edgar grumbled loud enough to be heard. “’Tis her we should be roasting on the pit, the big glutton.”
Brooke’s eyebrows rose and she leapt to her feet. “What did you say?”
He looked at her, his young face dark. “You heard me.”
Norman tried to intervene, but Edgar wouldn’t let him. Bad ankle and all, he rolled away from his brother as the youth tried to slap a hand over his mouth.
“You are a big, fat glutton, Brooke Serroux,” Edgar shouted, with Norman’s hand half-over his mouth. “You ate all of that sweet pumpkin for yourself!”
Brooke’s mouth popped open in outrage. “It was mine!”
“You could have shared it. I am hungry, too!”
Brooke’s open mouth went into a thin angry line. She rushed Edgar, being prevented from totally destroying him by Norman, who had the unhappy task of being wedged in between the combatants. The older boy was on the receiving end of a few sharp slaps. Norman eventually turned away from Edgar to grasp Brooke around the body, lifting her up and carrying her away from his brother. She screamed and beat on Norman’s back.
Inside the larger tent, Gray could not help but hear her daughter’s yelling. Geoff hadn’t moved so she dared to rise and peek outside to see what was going on. All she saw was Norman carrying her daughter off into the darkness. She sprinted out of the tent and caught up with them.
“Norman,” she tried not to sound panicked. “What are you doing?”
Norman immediately set Brooke on the ground, whereupon she bolted back in Edgar’s direction. The lad, unable to run, put up his arms as Brooke came down on him with hurling fists. Shocked, Gray ran after her daughter with Norman on her heels. She reached out and pulled her child off of the injured young boy.
“Enough,” Gray shouted at her daughter.
Since Gray never shouted, Brooke immediately came to a halt. Her big eyes gazed fearfully into angry amber orbs.
“But… Mama, he…”
Gray shut her down with a harsh shake of the arms. “I said enough,” she growled. “I do not know what vendetta you have against this boy, but this is the end of it. Any more violence against him and I shall take a switch to you. Do you hear me? I’ll spank you within an inch of your life.”
Unbeknownst to Gray, Braxton and Dallas had ridden up behind her. There was a gutted pig strapped across Dallas’ horse. Dismounting, Braxton watched curiously as Gray laid into her daughter.
Brooke’s eyes welled. “But, Mama, he was so very mean to me. He called me a glutton.”
“And so you are,” Gray didn’t mince words. “You have been eating since we arrived, begging money from Sir Braxton for your selfish wants. Sir Braxton is not obligated to buy you anything, Brooke. He does it from the kindness of his heart and Lord knows why he indulges you after the way you have treated him, but he does. You are selfish and petty and I am ashamed of you. If your manners were kinder and more gracious, then perhaps this boy would have no cause to insult you. But you deserve every word.”
Brooke burst into tears. Gray did not want to comfort her, knowing she must teach her child a lesson. But it was difficult to restrain her motherly instincts as she watched Brooke sob. She let go of her daughter.
“Go and sit down by the fire,” she instructed, her tone less harsh. “You will think on what I have said and amend your behavior accordingly.”
Weeping, Brooke wandered over to her stump and sat heavily. The mood around the fire was somber as Norman and Edgar tried not to look at her. Braxton, having witnessed the entire event, slowly made his way over to Gray.
“My lady?” he said to catch her attention.
She turned to him, startled. “I am sorry; I did not hear you approach.”
He smiled faintly at her. “I know.” His eyes moved to his squires, to Brooke. “Is everything all right?”
Gray nodded, sensing he had probably heard some of her tirade. “It will be,” she gathered her skirts and moved back in the direction of the large tent. “Sir Geoff has not yet awoken.”
Braxton followed her into the tent. Inside, it was eerie and dark but for the soft light given off by one fat taper near the knight’s
bedside. Geoff was on his back, his neck and left shoulder heavily bandaged, and breathing deeply. Gray resumed her seat beside him, putting her hand on his forehead to feel for a temperature rise.
“He’s still cool,” she said. “Tomorrow would be the soonest we could expect a change.”
He nodded. “Will he be able to travel back to Erith come the dawn?”
She shrugged. “If there is no change, I would think so.”
Satisfied, his gaze moved from Geoff to Gray. She looked so lovely and serene and his attention shifted.
“You and Brooke can sleep in the smaller tent tonight,” he said. “My knights and I will sleep in here with Geoff.”
She looked up at him. “I would prefer to sleep here where I can watch him.”
He shrugged. “Then you and Brooke shall have this tent and we will take the smaller one.”
“I am sorry. I know it will be crowded.”
He waved a hand at her. “That’s not it at all. ’Tis simply that the smaller tent is warmer. I thought you would be more comfortable.”
She smiled. “You are most thoughtful. Thank you.”
He returned her smile, feeling the warmth spark between them again. “You are most welcome.”
Their gaze lingered on one another until Braxton moved towards her, crouching down next to her. He was very close, the heat from his big body radiating against her. He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, but no words would come. He couldn’t quite articulate the newfound feelings he was experiencing. So he reached out and took her hand instead, bringing it to his lips. She watched him, his face inches from hers.
“Braxton?” she asked softly.
“Hmmm?” he murmured, his lips still against her hand.
“Why are you so good to us?”
He smiled. “Because you deserve it. And because I want to.”
She studied his face, trying to detect anything about it that wasn’t being totally truthful. “I am sorry that Brooke is so demanding and ungracious.”
He shook his head, kissing her fingers at the same time. “She is neither. She is simply a young girl, with all of the wants and dreams and hopes of a young girl. She will settle down soon enough.”
“But you spoil her.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You let me worry about that.” With one hand, he reached beneath his chest armor and fumbled in the mail. He suddenly drew forth a small wooden box with a ribbon tied around it. The ribbon was a little smashed, but it did not dampen the Gray’s thrill when he extended it to her. “Speaking of spoiling, this is for you.”
Eyes wide with awe, she timidly took the box. She turned it over in her hands, inspecting it as if she’d never seen such a thing before. “What is it?”
He chuckled. “Open it, you silly wench.”
She grinned and pulled at the ribbon. It fell away and she carefully pulled the lid off of the little box. She gasped at the contents before reaching in to pull forth the treasure inside. A beautifully etched thin gold band with a massive pale green stone glistened in the weak light. It was magnificent. She gasped again, in awe, as she inspected it.
“It’s… beautiful, simply beautiful,” she breathed. “For me?”
He took it from her and collected her left hand, sliding it down over the third finger. It was a little snug, but it fit. Gray held her hand up, staring at the ring as if hardly believing what she was seeing. Braxton’s gaze moved between the ring and her astonished face.
“A token of my affection,” he said simply.
“When did you get this? I have been with you nearly every moment of the day.”
“I bought it when I bought the pig. It would seem that merchants are willing to open their shops, even at night, with the promise of a large sale.”
“But this is so beautiful. Surely it must have cost a small fortune. I am not sure I…”
He cut her off. “As my betrothed, you warrant such a thing.”
She looked at him, then. “We are betrothed, then? I thought we were merely courting.”
He grinned, full-on. “If you think for one minute I am courting without a purpose, think again. I shall marry you before this month is out.” He suddenly grasped her arms, pulling her up against his chest as his smile faded. “No one else is worthy of you, madam. You and your headstrong daughter and your broken down fortress deserve everything I can provide for you and more. Do not deny me this honor.”
She swallowed hard, feeling his sincerity, finally allowing herself to believe that he was truly genuine in everything he said and did. Until this moment, she’d still held doubt. But no more. She wound her arms around his neck.
“Oh… Braxton,” she whispered as her soft lips came down on his.
He pulled her fiercely to him, his kiss hot and lusty and aggressive. In little time she was off the stool, on her knees against him as his mouth ravaged her. With her arms around his neck, there was little she could do other than hang on while he tenderly assaulted her. His passionate mouth moved from her lips to her face, her neck, her shoulders. His lips were hot and moist, stirring the embers of desire in Gray until she was quivering with want. She’d never experienced such passion; in fact, her encounters with Garber had been far and few, usually drunken romps ending in her tears. She had no glorious memories of passion or coupling. But with Braxton, she could only imagine how wondrous it might be.
His mouth moved to the swell of her round breasts and his big hand, very gently, cupped her left breast. She gasped softly and started to pull away, but he held her close and his gentle touch turned more insistent. He fondled her boldly as his lips reclaimed hers, his kiss moving deep. He held her so tightly that he was sure he was squeezing the breath from her because he could hear her gasps and sharp exhales as he had his way with her.
He wanted to taste her flesh in the worst way. He wanted to suckle a rosy nipple until she wept with the pure joy of it. Her breast was soft and round in his hand and he could feel the hard nipple through the fabric. But his kisses slowed as he struggled to regain his control, fully mindful that this was not the time or place for this, no matter how badly he wanted her. When he finally pulled away from her mouth, she drew in a heavy breath as if struggling to breathe. He gazed down into her half-lidded eyes.
“As a man of supreme control, I can tell you that it has taken all of my strength not to continue exploring you,” he murmured. “My want for you is more than I can express, sweet. I am sorry if I frighten you with it.”
His hand was still on her breast, gently rubbing where moments before he had been passionately fondling her. Gray labored to regain her wits, her hand instinctively closing over his as it held her breast.
“You do not frighten me,” she whispered. “I… I have never experienced this level of passion before. It was never this way with Garber. In fact, it would sicken me whenever he touched me. But with you… I love this already, Braxton. I never knew it could be like this.”
He smiled at her, his features illuminated by the soft candlelight. He kissed her again, tenderly this time, his hand still moving slowly, sensually, over her breast. “It is a promise of things to come, this passion that ignites so easily between us.”
“Do you think so?”
He spoke with his lips still against hers. “I know so.”
He pulled away to look at her again, her exquisite beauty in the dimness of the tent. But he also pulled away because he was dangerously close to losing control again. Removing his hand from her breast, he straightened her bodice where he had mussed it. Then he helped her back onto the stool at Geoff’s bedside before rising.
He was thankful he was in armor, for the mail and pieces of plate concealed a powerful erection. God, he wished he could take her at this moment.
“Now,” he said, trying to distract himself. “I shall go and see how they are coming along with the pig. I should probably also see how Lady Brooke is faring after her scolding.”
Gray lifted an eyebrow at him. “Do not coddle her, Braxton. She
must learn her lesson.”
His lips twitched but he bowed his head as if to agree to her wishes. Gray watched him go from the tent, suspecting that he would not. He would fold like a weakling the moment Brooke turned her big, sad eyes to him.
She was right.
An hour later, Braxton had not returned to the tent. With Geoff still unconscious, Gray felt the need to stretch herself, if only for a moment. She rose stiffly and exited the tent only to find her daughter, Braxton and both squires missing. The men at arms tending the fire could only point towards the dark town in response to her query. Since Braxton was with the children, she didn’t particularly worry, but she wondered where they could have gone.
The evening was cool but not cold and the stars above were brilliant. Gray wandered away from the encampment, her eyes on the town in search of her daughter and Braxton. The dark tournament field was to her left, the empty lists mere shadows of the excited stands they had been earlier. Wandering aimlessly, and grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs, she noticed that there were a few tents pitched off to the west of the tournament field.
She could see the triangle-shaped silhouettes and the flicker of the cooking fires. Curious, she wandered in that direction simply because wanted to see their banners and then attempt to deduce which House they were from. Purely idle curiosity. But she did not want to wander too close so after several minutes of pacing, she decided to turn around and head back to Braxton’s encampment. Turning on her heel, she almost ran into a massive body standing behind her.
Startled, she yelped and fell back. A big hand reached out to steady her.
“Forgive, my lady,” came the deepest voice she had ever heard. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
Heart in her throat, she craned her neck back to gaze up into the face that emitted the voice. Surely it was the Devil himself. Eyes the color of obsidian gazed back at her, although it was difficult to deduce much else in the dark. She couldn’t see his face clearly. But he was definitely a knight for he still wore his mail and a portion of arm protection was still strapped to his right arm. He was a very big fellow with handsome, rugged features. She took another step away from him.
Noble Line of de Nerra Complete Set: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 66