“And if I had known a commander of a chivalric order was to endeavor to seduce me, I would have worn my iron undergarments,” she stated haughtily, turning away from him to watch the road ahead. Though there wasn’t much to watch other than Glenn and Pierre’s horses’ tails swishing.
There was silence after her statement, but she dared not look at Elric again. As it was, she was having trouble pushing the man from her mind. If the conversation was at an end, so be it.
It was the sound, as though someone were being strangled, that made her finally turn toward the man on her left.
The cur was turning bright red, his eyes pinched shut, and his lips clamped together. The arse was holding in a laugh. When he opened his eyes and caught her staring, that must have been all it took to shake his levity loose. He released the loudest, deepest, most aggravating guffaw she’d ever heard. His laugh, which echoed off of every surface around them, sank into her body, vibrating through her blood. Humiliation blasted her face and she forced herself to turn her attention back to the road.
Let him laugh. I care not. He will not be laughing tomorrow when he finds his charge has gone, leaving him at the cardinal’s mercy.
She smirked, then.
The men riding at the front turned to look, their eyes wide. The one on the left, the Scot, grinned wickedly, his sharp, glittering gaze jumping from her to Elric. When his gaze returned to her, he winked.
She stiffened. Oh, they were all much too free with their familiarity. If one of her father’s men had dared wink at her, her father would have dismissed him from his position without so much as a franc. Then again, her dear papa was a man of noble blood and honorable heart. He would have never allowed his only brother to marry his daughter off to an utter stranger. He would have given Minnette a choice—a true choice, not the jest of a choice between life in a nunnery or life with a pale English lord. That wasn’t a choice at all, but she couldn’t say that. She daren’t. Otherwise, her uncle would have made her life miserable. Non. She’d allow him to think her the obedient niece, following his orders like a lap dog on a tether. It was better that way because, that way, she was underestimated.
And that was her greatest weapon.
Thankfully, Sir Elric hadn’t continued their catastrophe of a conversation, which allowed her to watch the scenery as they made their way further south, through the rolling lands, dotted with sheep and small farms. It was beautiful, green, and somewhat moist. But the air was fresh. The breeze against her skin was refreshing, and the sky was clear until the sun began to set and the clouds began to roll in.
Black. Thick. Like smoke from a storm god’s bonfire. The clouds turned the sky to ink.
“Let us move quicker,” Elric called to Glenn and Pierre. “Bridgerdon is no more than a league further, just on the other side of that rise.” Minnette looked to where Elric had motioned, and she could just see the top of four turrets.
As they quickened their pace, the first drops of rain began to fall, pelting them as they rushed through the downpour. She held her breath, gripping the reins tight as the horse beneath her followed the increasing pace.
Too absorbed in remaining on her mount, she didn’t notice that they had arrived at the castle until they were racing beneath the gaping mouth of the large outer bailey gate.
Minnette pulled her mount to a stop, just behind Pierre and Glenn, and let out a heaving pant of relief. Dear God, she was soaked to the bone. Her hands were chilled, her grip on the reins stinging. Her breath caught at the sensation of her clothes sucking at her skin.
Before she could speak through her chattering teeth, she was unceremoniously pulled from her horse. She gasped, looking up into Elric’s face as he cradled her against his chest. He didn’t bother with speaking to her, only held her tightly as he stomped up the broad set of stairs and through the wide door, which was held open by a man in a brown tunic. His eyes were wide as he stared at them. What a pair they must make, two drowned cats crawling inside, away from the deluge.
Minnette sucked in a breath, her gaze pinned to Elric’s throat. For the second time that day, humiliation sent heat through her face.
“Elric, my God, man, come in by the fire,” a deep voice commanded, and Elric obeyed, carrying Minnette deeper into the large hall. Just as she noticed the flicker of orange and red across Elric’s neck, she felt the welcome heat of a blazing fire.
“Goodness, put her here lest ye drop her,” another voice said, this one as commanding as the first, but far gentler.
Elric strode forward and bent, easily depositing her on a chair beside the fire.
Her eyes finally took in the scene before her. There were two new faces, both curious, a quintet of bedraggled men stalking toward the warmth of the fire, and Elric, staring down at her as though she were the cause of the storm. His golden eyes raked over her, his lips curling.
She blinked and he was before her, kneeling so that their faces were level. She fought the urge to lean away, for she would not show him how much his nearness bothered her.
“Lady Minnette,” he drawled, his voice dangerously soft. “We should get you dry…before your undergarments rust.”
Chapter Twelve
It took all the willpower within him to not press his mouth to hers to capture the gasp on her lips as he spoke for her ears only. Her eyes widened but then narrowed in a snap, the stunning blue glittering with unspoken wrath. Oh, but he couldn’t wait for her to unleash it.
Biting back a grin, Elric stood and walked to Tristin who had been watching the scene with a stoicism that was all his.
Tristin and Elric embraced, slapping each other on the back. Laughter lit up his soul. It was good to be with his friend again.
“Elric, so pleased you could come, old friend,” Tristin said as they pulled apart. “I feared Calleaux would send you on a mission just as my father’s missive arrived.” Elric could hear the contempt in Tristin’s voice, and Elric could understand why. Tristin despised Calleaux as much as any of them, and he had reason to despise him more. But he was a man of honor, who refused to allow the wrongs against him to fester into bitterness.
“Would my uncle do that? Keep you from seeing your friend again?” Minnette asked even as she shivered violently.
Tristin’s gaze flicked to Minnette, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment.
“My lady, I mean no disrespect.” Tristin seemed at a loss for words, but Bell Heather was not.
“That man deserves only our scorn,” she snapped, turning to Minnette. “I would not speak such things of yer uncle if it were not true.” Minnette only nodded, but Elric couldn’t miss the way her face lost some of its color. “Goodness, we must get ye warm. Come,” Bell Heather ordered, taking Minnette by the hand and helping her to her feet. “I will help ye to yer chamber. Elric, be gentle with Tristin, fatherhood has softened him.” A grin on her face, she turned and helped Minnette toward the stairs, leaving a pinch-faced Tristin in her wake.
Elric couldn’t take his eyes from Minnette as she followed Bell Heather. Despite the soddenness of her clothing and the way her long hair was plastered to her back, she walked with purpose, her chin high and her shoulders squared. Though he watched her, she did not look back, and he refused to allow that to bother him.
Glenn, choosing that moment to join the conversation, chuckled. “Och, aye. Tristin has grown soft.” He poked Tristin in his belly, and Tristin slapped at his hand, shooting daggers with his eyes.
“Not so soft that I cannot best you with a blade,” Tristin barked, and Elric, Glenn, and the others broke into laughter.
With that, the men gathered around the giant hearth, drying their clothes and warming their blood by the blazing fire. They drank ale, ate cold meats and cheeses, and talked long and boisterously about Tristin, his new son and heir, and their newest members. Since Tristin’s departure from the order, Elric had grudgingly welcomed two new men, men of the bishop’s choosing. It took several months before the new men, James Black and Morgan MacE
wan—half-brothers, had found their places among the brotherhood, but in the years since, they had become as brothers to them all.
“James and Morgan,” Tristin echoed, “I had wondered if Milton’s bastards would be skilled or disciplined enough.”
“Took them a year to stop jumping whenever Glenn shat, but they have done well since then,” Bear offered dryly, making the group break into another round of laughter.
“Damn, but I missed this.” Tristin leaned back in his chair, his gaze sad. Elric’s heart hitched at his friend’s expression. Though Tristin lived only a day’s ride away, he couldn’t set foot on the manse grounds, not unless he wanted to be immediately arrested. After the cardinal’s accusations of heresy, Tristin became persona non grata with the cardinal, and was now barely tolerated by other members of the clergy. It was a surprise that any priest deigned to baptize any of Tristin’s children, and a shame that a man who had given so much to the Church would be treated with such disgrace.
Elric leaned in and slapped Tristin on the shoulder.
“We are here now, my friend. And we are happy to celebrate your son’s christening on the morrow.”
Tristin’s grin split his face. “Will you stand as the godfather?”
A cascade of happiness was quickly dammed by guilt. Being the godfather to Tristin’s son would be one of the greatest honors of his life. But it would also mean that Tristin was placing him in a position of duty to protect and watch over the lad until he was grown.
I could not even protect my own brother past his seventeenth year.
But to turn Tristin down, to deny him…Elric cast a troubled look to Tristin whose own look showed understanding.
“I know, Elric,” Tristin began, “that you have worries, regrets, and that you fear what may come.”
Elric sucked in a breath, aware that the other men were silent, watching.
“I fear nothing,” he drawled, tension rolling from him.
Tristin, who knew the truth of Elric’s past, quirked his lips and said, “Then you have no reason to deny my request.”
Elric couldn’t stop his answering grin. Tristin, the blackguard, had him right where he wanted him.
He must have learned bewitchment from Bell Heather.
Chuckling, Elric answered, “Aye, it would be my honor to act as godfather to your heir.”
Tristin stopped, grabbing Elric’s shoulder and squeezing. Hard.
“Good.”
At Glenn’s grunt, they turned to look at him. The man was pouting into his ale.
“What bothers you, man?” Tristin asked.
Leon tapped the table between them with a stubby finger. “He is upset that you did not ask him to be the lad’s godfather.”
“Och, aye. What o’ it?” Glenn grumbled, which only made Bear choke on a laugh. If there had been a dagger in Glenn’s hand, it would have found itself buried in Bear’s chest.
Tristin moved to stand beside Glenn. “You are much too pointy to be the godfather.”
Glenn shot to his feet. “And what does that mean?”
“It means that if you were to try and hold the lad, you would probably accidentally stab him with something you had hidden in your tunic,” Pierre supplied, making all heads turn in his direction. It wasn’t the words that made a bubble of laughter rise in Elric’s chest, it was the blank look on his face that did it. How in the name of all hells could the man do that?
Another round of raucous laughter followed. Throughout the evening, Elric found his thoughts on the woman Bell Heather had escorted from his sight.
Is she resting? Has she caught a chill? Will she be well enough to travel in two days’ time?
Damn. He never should have let her leave him. How was he supposed to guard her if he didn’t even know which chamber she was in?
“If you are so worried, why not send a maid to look in on her?” Tristin offered, somehow reading Elric’s mind.
Not shocked by the man’s perceptiveness, Elric replied, “Aye.” A maid could check on Minnette, see to her continued comfort, and make sure she was resting. It would rid him of the inkling of unspeakable wariness crawling up his back, a wariness that had only begun.
With a wave of his hand, a maid appeared beside Tristin. “Please look in on Lady Minnette. And see that your mistress is settled.” The maid dipped a curtsey, but Elric did not miss the heated look she sent him, dipping her chin to draw his gaze to the crease of her cleavage. Obviously, word of his past dalliances had traveled to Bridgerdon. But that was his past. He hadn’t dallied with a maid for months.
Except for a delectable lady in disguise…
He took in the maid, her brown dress hugging ripe hips, her plump breasts, and her twinkling eyes. He felt nothing for her. The memory of Minnette’s soft, curvy body trembling against his as he devoured her lush mouth made his blood rush through him, blazing a trail that could easily burn his bones.
He refused the maid’s subtle invitation with a blank expression. Her eyes wide and her lips pursed, she hurried off to do her master’s bidding.
“Well, the pits o’ Hell have frozen over,” Glenn drawled, raising his tankard to his smirking lips.
“What’s that?” Leon asked, barely awake at his end of the short table.
“Elric, Laird o’ the Alcove Tryst, has turned down a night o’ flirtation with a comely maid,” Glenn offered, making both Tristin and Bear snicker.
Elric, unwilling to fall into Glenn’s trap, simply sat back and motioned for more ale.
Let them think what they want, it makes no difference. And once their mission was over, he’d satiate his growing desire on a willing woman, a woman he could tup and forget.
With that thought in mind, he remained quiet, listening to the other men as they talked, jested with one another, and finally begged off to get some sleep. Eventually, it was just Elric and Tristin remaining in the great hall.
“You have been strangely silent, my friend,” Tristin said, his gaze seeming to examine Elric’s face. “What have you been thinking that has stolen your tongue?”
Elric grunted, suddenly too tired to sit and have this conversation with Tristin, no matter how long it had been since they’d last been together.
“My thoughts are mine alone, Tristin,” Elric replied, his tone flat.
Tristin furrowed his brow. “Tis true.”
Snapping a curt nod, Elric changed the course of the conversation. “You and Bell Heather seem the blissful pair.” He knew that getting Tristin to talk about his wife was easy enough, and if filled the silence that had begun to press on him.
Tristin’s grin lit up the room. “Aye. We are. It seems impossible, but every day I love her more.”
The wave of jealousy that hit him nearly made Elric shoot from his seat, believing he’d been attacked by an unseen force. Instead, he forced a smile. “I will have to take your word for it, my friend.”
Laughing, Tristin remarked, “One day you will know of what I speak.”
Placing a hand on his chest, Elric gasped dramatically. “Never say such things. To think! You would curse me even after all I have done for you?”
Tristin’s laughter grew and Elric laughed with him, grateful for the break in the tension.
“How are your little maidens?” Elric asked, continuing to keep the topics as safe and unrelated to him as possible.
“Lilianna and Anabella are absolutely perfect,” Tristin boasted, his face shining with pride and love. Shortly after Tristin and Bell Heather’s wedding, they welcomed their twin daughters into the world, and Elric had never seen a happier man, ever. It was as if all the pain and trials Tristin and Bell Heather had endured for one another had been paid for, twice over, with two beautiful, healthy daughters. Elric couldn’t be happier for his friends. They deserved all the blessings and bliss God could offer.
But not him. Never him.
The maid from earlier arrived, dipping a curtsey before murmuring, “The lady from Cieldon is resting, and her ladyship Bell Heather is
with the little misses.”
Tristin nodded in silent thanks for the information and the maid left, not once looking in Elric’s direction.
Good. He had no patience for grasping housemaids, not when every fiber of his being wanted someone else.
Someone he couldn’t have.
Minnette groaned as she lowered herself into the steaming hot bath water. The chill in her blood abated and her muscles turned to putty. It had been too long since she allowed herself such a luxury. Bathing at Cieldon seemed like a frivolous thing, the atmosphere of forced piety hung over everything like a gray cassock.
But here, away from her uncle’s weighty gaze, she felt…light.
Leaning back, she laid her head against the tub rim, letting the heat of the water and the scents of the rose soap fill her with a sense of momentary peace. She closed her eyes, hoping for thoughts of nothingness. Instead, her thoughts immediately went to Elric.
The arse had actually spoken about her undergarments as if he had the right. It didn’t matter that he was mocking her. And it wasn’t just what he said but how he said it, leaning in to speak for her ears alone, as if it were a secret amongst lovers. But they weren’t lovers. Never would they be, either. Once she was with her aunt in Chatteris, she would find herself a local man, perhaps a simple farmer, and she would rid her mind and body of Elric’s touch and wicked kisses.
You think to assuage your desire for one man with another? Her thoughts prodded annoyingly. She shrugged, the water in the tub sloshing over the side and onto the stone floor. When she chose to give herself to a man, it would not be a man like Elric Gadot. He was much too deliberate, cunning, sensual. He would take her innocence and leave a hunger for him in his wake. The way he touched her, caressing her, firing her blood, she knew that once would never be enough with a man like Elric. The problem was that Elric was the sort to favor a woman with his wicked attentions for as long as his interest was piqued. Unfortunately, he seemed a man with a short attention span, moving from one willing woman to the next, like a wolf on the hunt for more succulent prey.
The Fire and the Sword (Men of Blood Book 2) Page 13