“I see,” she said, but he could tell that she was curious. “You do not often hear of men buying castles or royal properties, not unless they’re great warlords. Especially so close to the Scots border.”
He could see that she was curious about how he knew about a castle to purchase from the king, but she wasn’t going to come out and ask. Those big, brown eyes were full of questions, which he found rather charming. He gave her a half-grin.
“I used to serve Henry,” he said. “He knows me and therefore was not troubled to sell me the property. It behooves him because it is much-needed money into his coffers and he has a powerful knight in charge of a strategic outpost so the Scots can’t get their hands on it. Truly, it was very beneficial for him to sell it to me.”
He could tell just by the expression on her face that she was impressed. “Then you are an important man,” she said. “Not only on the tournament circuit, but to the king as well.”
Ridge was surprisingly modest. More than that, he really didn’t want to talk about himself anymore. He was quite fascinated by her and he had said all he was going to say about himself for the moment. He glanced at Charles, who was still in a lively conversation with the Northwood knights, before gesturing towards the enormous table that held all manner of food upon it for the visiting guests. It was about twenty feet away, certainly not too far from her brother. Ridge wanted to have her all to himself, that was true, but he didn’t want to look like a cad trying to sneak her away from her brother.
He indicated the food table.
“Shall we procure some refreshment?” he suggested. “I will tell you just how unimportant I am and you will tell me what you do in the wilds of Cumbria that prevents you from attending the tournaments I am competing in. Tell me why I should not be upset by this.”
The man could be charming when he wanted to be. Grinning, Catherine accepted his invitation and allowed the man to politely take her over to the table that was laden with more food and drink than she had ever seen. But it wasn’t the refreshments that had her attention, in truth.
It was the blue-eyed knight at her side.
And she loved every single moment of it.
CHAPTER FOUR
The woman in the yellow dress had disappeared by the time Renard and his men reached the spot where they’d last seen her. There were men gathered all around in groups, chatting loudly over the music, while the women were mingling with each other or simply seated at the table, enjoying their food.
Frustrated that he’d lost sight of her, Renard looked around in exasperation.
“Where in the hell did she go?” he demanded. “The hall is so crowded now that I cannot see her.”
Martin and Fulke were looking around, too. “I do not know, my lord,” Martin said. “Mayhap she has gone to find the food?”
It seemed reasonable enough. “I suppose,” Renard said. “I wonder if this is her table, however. Mayhap she will return.”
“Are you looking for someone, young lord?”
It was a woman’s voice posing the question. Renard looked at Martin and Fulke, who gazed back at him in confusion. Then, the three of them turned to see a white-wimpled woman in an elaborate garment sitting at the table with a cup of wine in her hand. She was sitting quite close to them and they hadn’t noticed until now.
But she had clearly heard them speaking.
“Who are you looking for?” she asked again.
Renard was going to brush her off but thought better of it. Perhaps she had seen the woman in the yellow dress. “There was a woman here,” he said. “She had blonde hair and a yellow dress. Have you seen her?”
The woman regarded him a moment. “And who are you?”
“Renard de Luzie,” he said without hesitation. “My father is the Comte de Gavere.”
Something in the woman’s eyes changed. “Son of a count,” she repeated, though strangely, it seemed to be mostly to herself. But she smiled at him. “And you are competing in the games?”
“I am,” Renard said. “Do you know the woman I am speaking of?”
He was single-minded, as hunters usually were. The woman in the wimple looked him up and down before looking him in the eyes again.
“Aye, I know who you are speaking of,” she said. “She is my daughter. When she returns, I will introduce you to her to you if you will tell me more about yourself and your father.”
Renard was pleased to hear that. In fact, it was a stroke of luck. Sending Fulke to fetch him some wine, he sat down across the table from the woman as Martin lingered somewhere behind him.
“What more do you wish to know?” he asked. “As I said, my father is the Comte de Gavere, a rich property holder outside of Ghent. And what is your name, Madam?”
“I am Lady Thornewaite,” she said. “My husband is Lord Thornewaite of Keswick Castle. My three sons are here to compete in the tournament and the lady you have asked about, my daughter, is here as a spectator. I take it that you are not married, my lord?”
Renard shook his head, but it occurred to him that this woman was a hunter, too. She was closing in on him far more swiftly than he would have liked. He wanted to actually see the daughter before he committed to anything and he found it rather ironic that the tables had turned on him a little. Now, he was the prey.
He could see it in Lady Thornewaite’s eyes.
The game was on.
“I am not,” he said, looking around and spying other women down the table. “I saw your daughter when I entered the hall and thought she would entertain me, but since she is not here, I will find my entertainment elsewhere for the time being.”
He started to stand up, but Lady Thornewaite stopped him. “Do not be so hasty, my lord,” she said. “My daughter can outshine any woman in this hall, I assure you. She is young and virtuous, and quite accomplished. There is no need to seek entertainment elsewhere. She shall return shortly. Meanwhile, you can tell me about your family. Let us become acquainted.”
Renard looked at the woman, his gaze lingering on her for a moment. He was genuinely considering finding company elsewhere because he had a very eager mother on his hands who was clearly seeking a partner for her daughter. He’d told Martin and Fulke that he had thoughts on seeking a wife and here was an opportunity in front of him, from a titled family no less, so perhaps it would behoove him to at least hear what the woman had to say. She’d already told him that her daughter was accomplished and virtuous.
Given the expensive dress the woman was wearing, maybe she was rich, too.
“Keswick Castle,” he said thoughtfully as he sank back into his chair. “I’ve not heard of it. Where is it?”
“Cumbria,” she said. “We own about a quarter of the shire, rich lands with many farms. My husband’s family has lived there for generations.”
“And your daughter will inherit it?”
The woman shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “My eldest, Charles, will inherit it, but the man fortunate enough to marry my daughter will not be a pauper, I assure you. My daughter will inherit some of her father’s wealth in addition to some of mine. Have you any interest in a wife, my lord?”
A smile tugged at Renard’s lips. “That is a blunt question, my lady.”
Lady Thornewaite shrugged. “I will not introduce you to my daughter if you simply wish to be entertained,” she said. “She has come to this tournament for a reason.”
“You said she came as a spectator.”
“It is more than that.”
“To find a husband?”
“To find a suitable husband.”
Renard nodded faintly. Fulke returned to the table at that moment, handing him a cup of wine, which Renard drank deeply from. He smacked his lips, noting that it wasn’t terribly good wine, but it was passable.
His attention returned to Lady Thornewaite.
“So you will not introduce us unless I am marriage-minded?” he said.
“That is correct, my lord.”
He regarded her a moment
before taking another drink of his wine. He had a feeling she might have him committed before he realized what happened and that wasn’t something he wanted, at least not immediately, so perhaps it was best to separate himself for the moment. Perhaps the woman needed time to cool her enthusiasm a little and he needed time to look over the rest of the women in the hall. In any case, she was starting to make him uncomfortable.
When he stood up this time, he remained on his feet.
“I will think on it, Lady Thornewaite,” he said. “But if you will take a bit of advice, it is never good to reveal your true intentions so early in a conversation. Telling men within the first few moments of knowing them that you are seeing a husband for your daughter will tend to chase them away. Subtlety is the key.”
The woman wasn’t quite so friendly now that she realized he was leaving. “I would rather be honest at the first than resort to trickery,” she said stiffly. “Good eve to you, my lord. If you return to seek an introduction later, do not be surprised if she is already spoken for.”
“I will try to bear up, my lady.”
With that, the woman looked away from him, turning her nose up indignantly. With a grin, Renard turned away from the table, glancing at Martin and Fulke with an expression of relief. He wasn’t sure why he felt as if he’d just dodged an arrow, launched from Lady Thornewaite on behalf of her daughter, but he did. He felt oddly relieved.
Until he saw the woman in the yellow gown several feet in front of him.
She was standing with none other than Ridge de Reyne. He knew that simply by the size of the man. That bastard, Renard thought. He wondered if Lady Thornewaite had given de Reyne the same speech about her daughter and now he was getting to know the girl. De Reyne had his back turned to him, so Renard couldn’t really see him, but that also meant that he could see the woman in the yellow dress full-on.
And what an exquisite creature she was.
Renard had spent two years on the same tournament circuit as Ridge and he’d not yet won the top prize because de Reyne was, without fail, almost always the victor. Twice that title had eluded him and both times it was because he’d been injured and unable to finish. One of those injuries had been an accident, but the other one had been bestowed upon him by Renard himself.
It was the only way Renard could come even close to winning.
In truth, Renard considered Ridge his primary competition even though everyone knew that when it came to sheer skill and strength, Renard de Luzie didn’t come close to the magnificence that was Ridge de Reyne. But Renard didn’t see it that way. If Ridge was indeed interested in the de Tuberville daughter, then maybe that was something Renard could take away from him. If he couldn’t beat him on the field, perhaps he could beat him where it really counted.
With the prize of a woman.
With a lingering glance at the dimpled smile of the Thornewaite daughter, Renard retraced his steps back to the girl’s mother. When she saw him coming, she tried not to look too hopeful or too interested.
“Well?” she said as he drew near the table. “What do you want now?”
Renard reclaimed his seat. “To continue our discussion,” he said. “I was rude to leave so abruptly. You asked me if I was interested in a wife… I might be. Mayhap I am open to discussing it.”
The smile on Lady Thornewaite’s lips was nothing short of victorious.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I do not dance.”
“Everybody dances.”
“I don’t.”
Catherine frowned. “Are you going to disappoint me?”
Ridge was in a spot. The minstrels had struck up a tune that couples were now dancing to and Catherine wanted to dance. It was one thing to attend a feast.
It was another thing to dance at it.
But he couldn’t stand the look of disappointment in her eyes. He hadn’t danced in years and most definitely didn’t want to make a fool of himself, but it was difficult refusing her.
Still… he didn’t want to dance.
“My lady, surely I would love to dance with you if I could,” he said. “But I have not done it in years and I fear I will only shame myself and you. I am truly sorry if that disappoints you. I certainly do not intend to, but it is the terrible truth about me.”
Catherine turned to watch the couples pair up before the dance began, a simple carole that was a couple’s dance. There was a man in the midst of them, showing them how to dance, so the instruction was obvious.
“But there is someone to teach you,” she said, pointing to the man with the shorn haircut and little bells on his silk slippers. “I do not mind learning from him. I am sure he will be patient.”
Ridge could see the glorious young women in the middle of the floor, being paired off with equally giddy young knights. That seemed to underscore to Ridge that he was at least twice as old as the beautiful Lady Catherine, which made him self-conscious. Men would see this magnificent young woman dancing with a grizzled old knight. He forced a smile at her, trying to think of a way to politely decline yet again, when a young knight suddenly dashed between them and grabbed her by the hand.
“Come!” he demanded. “Dance with me! Let the young women here see what a good dancer I am so I will not have to dance with my sister all night.”
He yanked on her, nearly dragging her to her knees, but Ridge was there to catch her. He would have taken the young knight’s head off were it not for two very simple words…
My sister.
So the knight was the lady’s brother. Ridge backed off, forcing a smile at her as she cast him a long and apologetic look as her brother dragged her to the center of the hall. Ridge watched as she lined up with her brother and the dance began, his gaze riveted to her as she began to move. She was graceful with every movement, her long arms drifting elegantly while her brother couldn’t seem to keep in step. Everything about her was mesmerizing as far as he was concerned and as he watched, her brother tripped over his own feet and laughed uproariously. Annoyed, Catherine slapped him on the cheek and Ridge burst into soft laughter.
“De Reyne?”
The voice came from behind and he turned to see Charles standing there. When their eyes met, Charles smile politely.
“Would you like to join us?” he asked, indicating the group of knights several feet away. “We were just speaking of the mass competition tomorrow.”
Ridge nodded. “I would,” he said. But then he started looking around. “I should find my men so they can join us as well. They will want to be part of any discussion.”
“As you wish.”
“De Tuberville… may I ask you a question?”
Charles gave him his full attention. “Of course,” he said. “What is it?”
Ridge was uncomfortable coming out with it, so he struggled with a tactful reply. “Your sister,” he said. “Forgive me if I am being too bold, but is she spoken for?”
A smile tugged at Charles’ lips. “Why do you ask?”
Ridge shrugged. “Because I did not want to offend her intended by speaking with her,” he said. “She wanted me to dance with her, but not knowing if she is spoken for, I was unhappily forced to decline.”
It was sort of the truth, but not all of it. A polite man would have considered a lady’s relationship status before dancing with her, but Ridge really hadn’t. He only said he had to sound more gallant than he actually was.
“That was polite of you,” Charles said. “But surely you could have any woman in this hall to dance with. I am sure any one of them would consider it a great honor.”
Ridge didn’t get the sense that Charles was eager for him to pay attention to his sister, so he simply nodded his head. “As it is, I am not much of a dancer,” he said. “In fact, I’ve not been to one of these inaugural feasts in over a year.”
“But you came this time.”
“Aye, I did.”
“Any special reason?”
Ridge didn’t want to admit the real reason why he’d come. “To look ov
er the competition,” he said. “To introduce myself to knights I do not know.”
Charles remained focused on him. De Reyne didn’t seem at all like he thought the man would be in person. It was true that he’d been in the same tournament as the man twice in the past, but he’d never competed against him. He’d always been knocked out of the competition before that happened. Furthermore, he’d never had any real contact with de Reyne because the man mostly kept to himself, but what he had heard hadn’t been negative. De Reyne had a reputation for ruthlessness on the tournament field, but anyone who had ever had dealings with him had spoken of his fairness and honesty.
Charles sensed that he wasn’t getting any of that honesty now.
He suspected why.
“My lord, you were very helpful to my sister earlier today when her dogs ran off,” he said. “Terrible beasts, both of them. You also escorted her back to our encampment but you left before I had the chance to thank you.”
Ridge flashed a nervous smile. “It was no trouble,” he said. “But they scared my dog so badly that I swear he won’t sleep away from my side for the rest of the week.”
Charles grinned. “They are wicked devils, I assure you,” he said. “I cannot count the number of people those dogs have bitten. They love my sister and defend her fearlessly, but woe to the man or woman who crosses paths with them. One day, someone is going to step on them and that will be the end of it all.”
Ridge smiled reluctantly. “They are about the size of a man’s boot, aren’t they?”
Charles laughed softly. “Do not let my sister hear you say that.”
Ridge chuckled because Charles was. “I swear, I will not mention it,” he said, sobering. “I came because I thought I might have the chance to speak with her again.”
“Speak with who again?”
“The feast,” Ridge said softly. “You asked me why I came tonight. It was because I thought I might have the chance to speak to your sister again. She is kind and witty. I hope that does not draw brotherly ire from you. I swear to you that I only have the gentlest of intentions.”
The Black Storm (De Reyne Domination Book 4) Page 6