But none of them are her. Her. The woman he’d met, fantasized about, tasted, and then lost. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he still fantasized about her; her beautiful face, her glimmering blue eyes, her silky black hair, her plump breasts, her husky moans, how she felt against him, how she smelled of sex and womanhood. How she tasted like Heaven and erotic promises.
The cardinal’s messenger, Leon’s cousin, Martin, had said little when he’d appeared at the barracks, and that alone was suspicious. Martin was the cardinal’s acolyte, but he’d also been a stalwart supporter of the Homme du Sang, and so his tight-lippedness could not be a good thing.
The cardinal was seated behind his escritoire. Elric assumed the man had one in each of his private rooms. The man was staring down at a sheaf of papers as if his deadly and armed brotherhood of knights weren’t standing before him awaiting his attention.
A quick flick of his gaze to the left revealed another man, standing at the window, peering out over the courtyard. He was dressed in a red cassock and red zucchetto.
He must be a bishop up from Furness. Someone to keep an eye on Calleaux and the goings-on at the manse. Since Calleaux’s “misstep” with the previous commander, the Church had determined to keep tighter reins on Calleaux and his use of the Homme du Sang. That was one of the reasons his men were broken into smaller groups. When there wasn’t a larger mission for all of them, the Church would request a few men to accompany important heads of state or the Church. And when they weren’t acting as guards over grown babes, they were dispatched to villages where they were to “patrol” for wrongdoing and signs of reivers. In his nine years as commander, he’d captured more flies than he had reivers. It seemed that they’d all gone to ground. At least, that’s what they wanted him to think.
“Calleaux, I believe your men have assembled as ordered,” the man by the window intoned, turning to take in the line of finely-dressed knights. Elric couldn’t help but puff out his chest, just a bit, to show that he was the finest of them all.
Calleaux tensed but lifted his head, his piercing gaze landing on Elric.
“As you say,” he remarked, not bothering to look at the man, whoever he was. Pushing back from the escritoire, Calleaux stood and tucked his hands behind him as if to hide any blood still lingering there.
“I have called you here because I have a task of the utmost importance that I can only entrust to the Homme du Sang.”
Begrudgingly, Elric drawled, “And we are at your service, Your Eminence.” Calleaux’s eyes flashed. He knew Elric only barely respected his position as the lay cardinal over the order. And he hated him equally.
Nodding, Calleaux cast a quick glance at the man by the window, offering a slight bow of his head, though, not bothering to introduce him to them.
“As a generous and loyal man, I have taken it upon myself to find a husband for my dear brother’s only daughter. She has recently arrived from France and has been cloistered in her chambers since.”
Something ticked at the back of Elric’s mind. She has recently arrived from France. Nay. It couldn’t be her. She didn’t dress like the niece of the cardinal—her ample breasts encased in dull brown, threadbare fabric, her feet bare in the stable, her hair loose about her shoulders rather than bound. And she hadn’t been cloistered. On the contrary, she’d been out and about enough that he’d found her and kissed her, twice. Not enough!
Pulling his thoughts out from between his legs, he continued to listen.
“I have selected Sir Glidden as her intended,” Calleaux announced, and Elric could hear the choked laughter of his men at the mention of the cowardly, chinless Glidden. He was a fat, ugly man who sweat so much, even while standing still, that he always looked caught in the rain. Any woman married to him would be damp the rest of her life—and not in a pleasant way. Then again, if Calleaux’s niece was anything like him, in personality or looks, Glidden was the perfect match.
“But Glidden is in Aberdeenshire,” Bear interjected, drawing a sharp grimace from Calleaux.
“Of that, I am aware,” he snapped but then softened his glare when the man beside the window took a step closer. “Which is why I have called you here. You will escort her north, through the borderlands, to Lorne.”
“Your Eminence,” Elric began, “there are but four of us. Would it not be better to wait for the other men to return?”
“No.” Calleaux answered. “Glidden is eager to wed, and the bishop has already agreed to the match. There is little time to waste.”
Absolutely preposterous. But, alas, as much as he wanted to, he could not go against the cardinal’s order. Certainly, there were dangers to the north, but nothing the four of them couldn’t handle. And he was more than skilled enough to best any who dared to accost them.
A slight rap on the door made him let out his breath.
His gaze landed on Bear to find Bear’s dark eyes wide and his mouth agape…and he was peering over Elric’s shoulder toward the door.
“Aww, here you are, my dear. Come, meet the men,” Calleaux exclaimed in French, sounding much too breathless and far too doting. The falseness grated at Elric’s nerves.
As a woman appeared, flanked by Calleaux and a drably-dressed maid, Elric lost all sense of time and place.
It was her! The woman who’d stolen his senses and left him rock hard with repressed desire. This was Calleaux’s niece!
And she was just as shocked to see him. Her luxurious, sapphire eyes were wide, but she blinked back her surprise, hiding it behind a practiced mask of indifference.
“Men, this is my niece, Minnette Calleaux.”
Minnette…it fit her. And it would sound oh so perfect on his lips as he made her come beneath him.
God dammit, man! She’s the cardinal’s niece! Suddenly, his desire for her seemed wrong, sinful, as though even a self-proclaimed lecher like him had crossed a line.
“Is she not beautiful?” Calleaux drawled, in English this time, his penetrating gaze landing on Elric. “She will make Glidden a fine wife.”
Hell. When he’d first heard that Glidden was to marry Calleaux’s niece, he couldn’t be bothered. It was some random woman married to a he-cow with an army. But now, the very thought of Glidden getting his sweaty hands on this woman made everything within him riot.
No. He’d be damned if Glidden got to have her before he did, cardinal’s niece or no. With great determination, he silenced the sharp voice within him, telling him to withdraw his interest in the woman, to let her be. He was a man of some morals, aye, but he still had needs, still had a hunger for her that he had never known for another woman. It wouldn’t do to ignore the part of him that had kept him happily numb throughout the years since his brother’s death. Sex and wine kept the memories at bay. At least until that morning.
Calleaux was watching him, and he knew why. The man was just waiting for the womanizing, lecherous Elric to say or do something he could hold against his commander. Something he could hold against the Homme du Sang as a whole. So do not give him anything. Be the perfect gentleman and gallant knight.
At least until they were alone.
“Minnette, my dear, these four are members of the Homme du Sang. You have probably heard word of their exploits, even all the way in France.” Again, Calleaux was speaking in French, as if imparting special information to Minnette that she wouldn’t otherwise understand. That bastard was playing with her.
Elric couldn’t—wouldn’t—stop the anger that flooded him. He’d known Calleaux was a cruel and unfeeling man, he just hadn’t known how deeply the malice went.
She said nothing, only shaking her head. Her gaze was fastened on the floor, seemingly demure. But he knew better. He could tell by the pinkening in her cheeks and the pinching in her lips that she was cursing him in her thoughts…and wanting him as well.
He fought the smile that tugged at his lips. If she thought that marrying a disgusting blob would keep her from him—and it would have, normally—she was mistake
n. She had no idea what was coming. She wasn’t married yet.
“Angus, step forward,” Calleaux commanded and Bear did as commanded. “Now, Pierre.” Pierre stepped forward. “Leon.” Leon took a timid step forward, his face drawn up tight. “Now, Sir Elric Gadot, please step forward.” Why the man had to speak of him with such tension in his tone, Elric didn’t care to know.
Cardinal Calleaux cast a quick glance at the man of mystery standing at the window before turning back to his niece. Speaking in French, he said, “Minnette, these men will escort you, safely, to your betrothed.”
Minnette tensed, her gaze flicking up to Elric’s face before dropping back to the floor. Her flush deepened. What was she thinking?
“Milady,” he drawled. “It would be our pleasure to escort you and protect you,” he spoke in his flawless French, knowing those words carried more weight than any words he’d ever spoken before—even his vows to the Homme du Sang. And he’d be damned if he knew why.
Finally, she lifted her face and stared at him with a stunned expression. Her lips parted in a gasp and her blue eyes glittered with something akin to disbelief.
Elric didn’t take a moment to wonder why his heart was beating so erratically. He stepped forward and bowed. “I assure you, you are in capable hands.”
The murder in her gaze was almost enough to make him rethink the whole damned scheme. Almost.
Glaring at the man before her, Minnette couldn’t believe her eyes or her ears. The stable master was a member of the Homme du Sang. No, not just a member. From the way the other men stood beside him, peering at him with incredulous looks, he was their commander! Her uncle was correct in believing she’d heard of the knights all the way in France. How could she not? Even the blind beggars would spread word of their exploits, their battles, their heroism. It was difficult not to listen in awe. But she’d never thought to meet them one day.
Idiot! You knew your uncle was their liaison. Oui, she knew, but she’d had more pressing things on her mind, like acclimating herself to life in England, and then trying to find a way to escape her arranged marriage. She hadn’t given any thought to a group of men who seemed more legend than flesh and blood. Minnette remembered her first encounter with “the stable master”, how he’d been bare chested, sweaty, and oh so delectably male. Lord, have mercy on her soul!
But now that she knew this man was to escort her to her ridiculous farce of a wedding, she was more determined than ever to leave—now before the preparations could take place.
How, though? Her uncle was eager to see her on her way, so that gave her little time to prepare. Stiffening, she forced herself to stop wondering and questioning. She would just have to do what needed to be done. She ducked her head, hiding her face. No doubt her shock and then revulsion had shown in her expression. She had to be better about allowing her emotions to display on her face.
Despite her desire to remain unaffected by her revelations, curiosity bit into her. She lifted her gaze from the floor to peer at the man through the fan of her thick, black lashes. If she thought he was handsome in the guise of a stable master, he was even more so in his crimson tunic, his black leather breeches, his high, black leather boots, with that heavy-looking sword strapped to his hip.
He was gorgeous, and from the gleam of wicked mirth in his gaze, he knew it, too.
Sir Elric Gadot. He was a knight. A leader of knights. A lecherous snake! All those times, touching her, kissing her, speaking such wicked, sinful things to her, he’d been one of her uncle’s trusted men. And he hadn’t said a word about it.
And you did not tell him you were the niece of the cardinal. The truth stung. She hadn’t told the man who she was, but it wasn’t because she was trying to gain favors from him as he, no doubt, was trying to gain from her. But, if favors were what he wanted, why hadn’t he said who he really was? A commander of a revered chivalric brotherhood would have garnered more “favors” than a stable master would. At least, from other women, of course.
Confusion settled into Minnette’s head. She tried to push it aside to remain focused on the debacle that was playing out before her.
The man had just so casually remarked about her being in “capable hands”! She wanted to laugh, to scream, to cry, and then to stab him with a sewing needle.
“Sir Elric,” her uncle intoned, a slight inflection in his voice. “I have no doubt of your capabilities.” Why did that word sound so sinister on her uncle’s lips?
She nearly collapsed in relief when Sir Elric finally released her from his gaze to look at her uncle.
“When are we expected at Lorne?”
“By month’s end.”
His gaze was back on her before she could breathe. Minnette could feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on her soul. The depth of his golden eyes blazed with intent, confidence…and a promise.
“I will inform Glenn,” Sir Elric finished, his deep voice ringing through her head.
There was silence for only a moment before her uncle let out a sharp breath. She turned to him to see his face was growing red around his eyes, as though he were holding in a sneeze.
“Calleaux,” the man by the window snapped. “It is settled. There is none better suited to the task. I know of Sir Elric Gadot, trained under Sir Tristin LaDeux, a true and valiant knight and skilled warrior. As leader of the Homme du Sang, I have no doubt your niece is, indeed, in capable hands.” Dipping his head to Minnette, he strode across the room and came to stand before her. He was a head taller than her, thin, with long, slender fingers, almost like spiders’ legs. He took her hands in his and gave them a fatherly squeeze. The sudden prick of tears behind her eyes told her that this was something she missed…this feeling of comfort. His brown eyes were soft, penetrating, yet she saw no calculating in them, as she so often saw in her own uncle’s gaze.
This man was truly a man of God.
“You look so much like your father, my dear. He was good, godly man. I had the pleasure of meeting him during one of my few visits to France, many years ago. I was sad to hear of his passing.” Again, the tears pricked at her eyes. She couldn’t speak, and so she nodded instead, hoping her distress didn’t show on her face. “Many blessings on your coming marriage, my child,” he declared then turned to peer at Calleaux. His face went from friendly to flat in a blink. “Finish this business quickly, Calleaux. There is much we must discuss before I return to Furness.”
The man dipped his head to each of the other men before leaving the room through the door just behind a ceiling to floor black curtain. It was a door she’d never seen before—though, she hadn’t been to her uncle’s private study before.
Her uncle looked like he wanted to argue. His eyes were narrow, his lips drawn into a taut line, and his hands were fists at his sides.
“Angus, Pierre, Leon—you are all dismissed.” The men offered crisp bows before turning and fleeing the room at a deceptively sedate pace. They were glad to be done with the whole business.
If only I could be as well. Avoiding Sir Elric’s gaze, Minnette clasped her hands in front of her and stared straight ahead, directly over her uncle’s shoulder, to the black curtain and the door beyond it. Where did that door lead?
“Sir Elric,” her uncle practically growled.
“Your Eminence,” Sir Elric replied, not even a hint of fear in his tone.
Minnette couldn’t stand it, she had to look at him! She turned her head, just enough to catch his ruggedly handsome face in her peripheral vision.
“You can understand the importance of this assignment,” her uncle remarked, tonelessly. “I do not think it necessary to remind you that my niece must arrive as she departed.”
Minnette didn’t need to see Elric’s snapping golden gaze to know her uncle just ordered the man to keep his capable hands to himself.
Without hesitation, Sir Elric responded, “I understand.”
She hated how easily he spoke of her imminent demise by holy matrimony, as if he hadn’t just doomed her to a
slow, painful death. She turned to look at him fully. He was standing with his hand on his sword hilt and the other at his side. His fingers were long, with blunt tips. They looked strong, capable of wielding a sword and cutting down anyone who would try to harm her. But…she could remember how gentle they were as well; stroking her hair as if it were made of the finest silk.
A shudder rose before she could squelch it. And he saw it. His eyes flashed dark before brightening to gold once again.
“As you have heard, I have business with Bishop Norton,” her uncle intoned, his voice dry but edged in frustration. He was frustrated? She wanted to scream at him that she was the one sold like chattel to a complete stranger! She should be wailing the castle down around their ears, but that wasn’t her. And she wasn’t Sir Glidden’s yet, as if she would ever be.
“Bishop Norton,” Sir Elric echoed before continuing. “He is a friend to my father. I have known him for many years.” Minnette could tell from the way he cut off his words that there was more to it that he wasn’t saying.
“I know, and I also know he does not take kindly to being made to wait. The plans must be made with haste.”
Non! Non! They were making decisions about her life, her future, without even including her. Anger boiling in the pit of her belly, she bit back her scorching retort, knowing that arguing with her uncle before one of his men could mean she’d find herself locked in her chambers. No. She’d let them both think she was amiable about the horrid marriage.
“We shall do as you command,” Sir Elric drawled, his tone indicating he’d rather do anything but.
Minnette couldn’t believe the low hiss that slithered from her uncle’s mouth. “Two days, Sir Elric. You have two days to prepare.”
Two days! Panic surged. She only had two days to plan her escape and then to follow through with it, without anyone noticing? It was impossible!
The Fire and the Sword (Men of Blood Book 2) Page 9