Eventually, the road evened out and became smoother, and Eiselle began to feel some relief from her nausea. But her relief was short-lived when the thunder of hooves suddenly invaded the air.
“Get the carriage moving,” someone roared.
It was a fast and furious command. The cab lurched and Eiselle yelped as she was thrown against the back of the seat. Her knightly escort, so silent for hours on end, suddenly came to life and she could hear their cool, calm chatter.
“Are we under threat, Bric?” a voice asked.
A massive destrier was snorting and kicking up rocks against the side of the carriage as the knight astride it spoke.
“We’re not sure, but we may have seen a Nottingham party to the west,” the man replied in a very deep, very heavy Irish brogue. “The rebels usually stay well-clear of this area, but it is possible they are scouting to see just how heavily-fortified we are. I am surprised you did not run into them.”
One of the men, the one who had stayed so close to the carriage throughout the ride, flipped up his visor to reveal a young and weary face. “We have had a clear journey since leaving the lady’s home of Hadleigh House,” he said. “We’ve seen no threat.”
The enormous man astride the silver charger waved a big arm at the team, startling the horses into a jerky gallop. “Get them moving! Into the castle!”
Eiselle yelped again as she ended up on the floor of the cab, bounced around like a child’s ball in the midst of a frenzied game. She finally got a grip on the seat and pulled herself back onto the bench, holding on for dear life. But her grip on the seat wasn’t enough as the carriage charged dangerously over the road and in through the great gatehouse of Narborough. She ended up on her arse, bounced around mercilessly.
A rapid stop came almost as abruptly as the blinding acceleration. Eiselle bumped against the wall of the cab as it lurched to a halt. Ill, and somewhat terrified, she barely had time to collect herself when the carriage door flew open and an enormous figure stood in its place. Jolted by the shock of the door nearly being ripped off its hinges, Eiselle gazed into the open doorway with a mixture of anxiety and outrage.
A man with silver eyes stood there, looking steadily upon her. Dressed in full armor, including a helm that covered most of his face, he looked ready for battle. Sprawled on her bottom in a most unladylike position, Eiselle realized that there was no way to save a very crude introduction. Blowing a stray lock of hair from her eyes, she thought, perhaps, a witty word might salvage the situation. But when she opened her mouth to speak, all that came out was a belch better suited to a drunken barmaid.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiipppppppp…
It was a shockingly wet sound. The man with the silver eyes stared at her, his surprise evident. But he did nothing more than lift an eyebrow.
“Greetings to you as well, my lady,” he said in his thick Irish accent. “Welcome to Narborough Castle. Are you Lady Eiselle?”
“I am.”
“I am Bric MacRohan.”
If I had a dagger, I would use it on myself, Eiselle thought, feeling her cheeks flush bright red as she realized who the man was. MacRohan in the flesh! Grasping at the last shreds of composure, she pushed her hair out of her eyes and tried to find her footing.
“My apologies, my lord,” she said as primly as she could manage. “It has been a rough trip and I… I am afraid that I’ve not handled it well.”
Bric did nothing more than hold a hand out to her. Gathering her skirts, Eiselle put her small hand into his massive one. It was warm and strong. With surprising gentleness, he assisted her from the cab.
The ground was still rolling a bit as Eiselle tried to regain her equilibrium. Bric moved to the back of the cab, snapping orders to the soldiers that were unloading her baggage from the rear. More baggage was on a small wagon that had followed from her home and Bric moved towards the wagon to make sure that it, too, was cleared.
Kerchief to her mouth to prevent any more horrifying gas from escaping, Eiselle was fixed on her future husband, understandably curious about him. He was tall, but more than that, he was just plain big – enormous arms, thick legs, and big hands. All embarrassment aside, he was something to watch; beneath the helm, she could see a square jaw and a hint of a long, straight nose. One of the knights who had accompanied her from her home of Hadleigh House said something to him and she caught a brief flash of a smile with straight, white teeth. But it was all she saw before he closed his lips again and snapped more orders to the men around him.
Eiselle took a deep breath, calming her rolling stomach as she continued to watch the man she had come to marry. He took one of her traveling cases from a soldier on the bed of the wagon and handled it easily. Eiselle knew how much those trunks weighed and it was no easy feat to sling them around as he was. As her stomach calmed and her composure began to return, she could already see that MacRohan was a man who commanded respect.
She wondered seriously what he looked like with his helm removed.
Bric suddenly turned in her direction and his eyes fixed on her. Startled that she was caught staring at him, Eiselle quickly lowered her gaze and looked at her feet. She heard his footfalls as he drew near.
“Forgive me for not tending to you right away,” Bric said, his heavy brogue quiet. “I was attempting to unload your baggage, but I suppose I should have unloaded you first. I am sure you would like to rest.”
Eiselle dared to look up at him, startled anew when their eyes met. There was an odd jolt to the event; it was the first time she had beheld the man at close range and she felt a strange buzzing sensation in her head. It was rather curious, exciting even. But her embarrassment also returned, so very embarrassed at her ghastly behavior since their introduction.
She could only imagine what he must think of her.
“I do not wish to rest at the moment, my lord,” she said, still fixated on his eyes, so blue that they were literally silver. “If you please, I wish to speak with you.”
Bric’s eyebrows flickered with curiosity, then agreement. “As you wish,” he said. Then, he went to take her by the elbow but awkwardly stopped. “Do you wish to speak here?”
He seemed rather ill at ease, as if he wasn’t sure how to behave around her. This big, confident knight seemed to be uncomfortable and it made Eiselle feel a little less embarrassed about their rude introduction.
In fact, she found his behavior rather amusing. Her stomach was easing and her composure returning, enough so that she felt inclined to say what had been on her mind since the very beginning of the marriage offer. She would ask the question, sooner or later, so perhaps it was better to establish things now.
She summoned her courage.
“We may speak here,” she said, studying his strong, if not slightly angular, features. “There is something I wish to know, if it is not too much trouble.”
“I will tell you if I can, my lady.”
“I would like to know if you are agreeable to this marriage.”
He stared at her. Then, his eyebrows lifted. “If I…?”
“If you are agreeable, aye,” she nodded patiently. “Although my father accepted the offer, we are not yet married. And if you are not agreeable, or pleased with the arrangement, then I understand. You’ve only just now met me, and if I am not to your standard, the contract can be refused.”
He blinked and, until the day she died, Eiselle would swear she saw a rush of disbelief followed by a glimmer of amusement. But Bric MacRohan wasn’t the amused type, or so she’d been told. The man was as hard as steel and twice as deadly. But he was clearly mulling over her question.
“Are you agreeable, my lady?” he finally asked.
“I mean no disrespect, but I asked you first.”
He cleared his throat at her bold answer, almost nervously, and averted his gaze. He even shifted on his big legs and glanced at the ground as if he would find the correct answer there. The he gave her a sidelong look.
“Did someone tell you that I was not?”
She s
hook her head. “Nay,” she said. “But this offer was unexpected, and quickly executed, so I simply wanted to know… if you are agreeable or if you were forced into this.”
He was looking at her most oddly, as if genuinely perplexed by her question. As if he simply couldn’t believe she would ask such a thing. More than once, she thought he wanted to say something about it, but he held his tongue. When he finally spoke, it was with a relatively benign response.
“No one can force me into anything,” he said.
She cocked her head curiously, inspecting everything about him. She was looking him up and down, her eyes finally coming to rest on his face again.
“I did not mean to insinuate otherwise,” she said. “But do you know what you shall expect from me? As your wife, I mean.”
A chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re to the point, lass, I’ll give you that.”
His smile was unexpected and quite attractive. She’d seen it before, briefly, and now she was seeing it again. She liked it; it made her unsettled belly leap in new and strange ways.
“In this situation, I am not sure I can be anything else,” she said. “This is all so new and unfamiliar to me. Do you even know what you expect from a wife?”
“I am not sure. I’ve never had one.”
He seemed to have transformed from slightly awkward to slightly amused. His humor made her want to smile although her question was serious. She cocked a well-shaped eyebrow at him.
“When you decide, you’ll be sure to let me know?” she said. “I would like to know your expectations so that I do not fall short.”
His eyes seemed to have gained something of a twinkle as he gazed at her. After a moment, he held out a mail-covered elbow. “I am coming to think that may not be a possibility.”
She was quite curious. “How do you know?”
The twinkle in his eyes grew. “Call it a guess,” he said. “May I take you inside now if you are finished interrogating me?”
She regarded him for a moment before accepting his elbow. “I am only finished for the moment.”
“I believe that.”
Eiselle was positive that he was laughing silently at her the entire trip across the bailey.
CHAPTER THREE
So much for his plans.
Bric had plotted out his introduction to his betrothed ever since he realized he had no recourse in the matter. He had told Keeva that he would not let anyone interfere in his marriage, and he would treat his wife as he saw fit.
Therefore, his plans were to be cool and distant from her, but not impolite. By virtue of the fact that she was his wife and would bear his name, he would show her all due respect, but nothing more than that. He was grossly unhappy with the turn of events and positive that she was not. He was certain that she would be most delighted to be married to de Winter’s High Warrior, sinking her claws into him, but he was going to make it clear that he took no delight in being married to her, even if she was Dashiell’s cousin.
But the moment he met Eiselle, that opinion changed.
First, her beauty had caught him off guard. She looked like an angel. Then, the first words out of her mouth hadn’t been words at all, but a burp that had nearly blown him onto his arse. Most men would have been disgusted by it but, for some strange reason, he hadn’t been. In that brief and somewhat shameful moment, the woman had endeared herself to him before she’d even spoken a word. In her embarrassment, he’d seen something that he hadn’t expected from her – grace.
She’d handled the situation with grace and dignity, at least as much as she was able. No weeping, no fits. Simply acceptance.
He was very surprised to see that.
But, then again, perhaps not so surprised when he remembered who she was related to. Dashiell du Reims was a man of great courage and honor, so it was little surprise that his female cousin was imbued with the same.
An introduction that the lady thought went so terribly wrong, in fact, went well in her favor.
Even now, he’d taken her into the great hall of Narborough and stood aside as Daveigh and Keeva were introduced to her. It gave him time to inspect the woman as she politely fielded their questions; she wasn’t very tall, but she wasn’t tiny, either. Clad in a pale green shift and surcoat that matched the color of her eyes, her curly dark hair was pulled into a braid, but the natural curl had tendrils escaping, giving her a halo of curls around her sweetly oval face.
And pretty? Bloody Christ, he’d never seen a prettier woman. That had been utterly unexpected. That so lovely a woman wasn’t yet spoken for made no sense to him but, then again, if she greeted all suitors the way she’d greeted him – with a burst of noxious fumes shooting from her mouth – then he supposed he wasn’t overly surprised. It had been like a dragon’s fire breath. Maybe she used it like a shield to chase off the unworthy. But on him, it hadn’t worked.
Vast, complete curiosity was all he could feel for her at the moment.
“Please, sit,” Keeva told the woman in her heavy Irish accent, indicating the nearest bench. “You must be very tired from your journey. Hadleigh House, isn’t it? My husband tells me that it is to the south.”
As Bric moved to the opposite side of the table where he could watch her better, Eiselle nodded. “Aye, Lady de Winter,” she said as she took her seat. “The house was given to my grandmother many years ago and we have always lived there. It is a lovely place.”
Keeva sat down next to her. “Tell me of yourself, Lady Eiselle,” she said. “When we received the missive from your cousin, we were quite happy with his offer, but we know so very little of you other than you are Dashiell du Reims’ cousin.”
Eiselle smiled timidly. “My life has been fairly unspectacular, my lady,” she said. “I was born at Hadleigh House in Suffolk and lived there until I was fifteen, whereupon the Earl of East Anglia arranged for me to go to Framlingham Castle to foster. I was there for a year before returning home, and I have worked in my father’s stall ever since.”
Keeva was very interested. “What is your father’s business?”
“He is a merchant, my lady. He imports goods from France and sells them in his stall in Bury St. Edmunds.”
“And you have learned much about his business, have you?”
Eiselle nodded. “I can count money and do sums in my head,” she said. “My father has taught me how to read and write, also. He felt it was important for me to know.”
Keeva looked at Bric, who was studying the lovely young woman quite intently. “Did you hear that?” she asked him. “Your betrothed knows how to do sums and read. She’s an accomplished woman, Bric.”
Bric didn’t like the way Keeva had said it, as if he needed to be convinced that the lovely creature before him was smart and talented and worthy of him. Perhaps that had been true yesterday, but it wasn’t true today.
In fact, Bric was becoming increasingly interested in the woman he was betrothed to. She had a soft, delicate voice, something that was quite mesmerizing. She also had a way of wrinkling up that pert little nose when she smiled. He thought it was rather charming. For someone who had been so staunchly against the marriage, he was folding rather easily, and it was a struggle for him to not feel foolish about it.
“She is, indeed,” he said. He didn’t want to get to know the woman in front of an audience, but he thought he may as well start. Keeva wasn’t going to let the woman go any time soon. “You mentioned that you fostered at Framlingham?”
Eiselle turned in his direction. “Aye, my lord.”
“You were there for a short amount of time.”
“I was there long enough to learn how to run a household, how to paint, and I learned how to sing in Italian. Just a little.”
She didn’t seem inclined to elaborate on why she’d only spent a year at Framlingham when most young women fostered for several years. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before simply nodding. He wanted to ask her more, and talk to her more, but he was increasingly resistant to do it in front of Keeva
and Daveigh.
If Eiselle was to be his wife, then he wanted to know her in private, just the two of them. But he suspected Keeva and Daveigh were present for fear that Bric might somehow be rude, considering how he’d made his displeasure with this betrothal known, so he really couldn’t blame them. They wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to offend or upset the woman. Of that, he had no intention, but he genuinely wanted to be alone with her and was frustrated by the fact that he was not.
“Then I look forward to hearing you sing for me some time,” he said, standing up. He was still in his armor and protection, and even still wearing his helm. He hadn’t taken it off. “You will forgive me for begging my leave, but I have pressing duties to attend to.”
As he stood up, Daveigh stood up and stopped him from moving away from the table. “Where are you going?” he asked, concerned but trying not to look as if he were. “Surely you would like to remain here and speak with the lady.”
Bric could see the stress in Daveigh’s face. “And I will, in time,” he said. “At the moment, you and Lady de Winter have her occupied, so I will leave you to your conversation.”
Daveigh was picking up on Bric’s frustration, but he was at a loss to understand why the man was upset, other than the fact that his betrothed had arrived. He lifted his eyebrows.
“Would you prefer that we leave?” he asked.
Bric thought he would sound rather ridiculous if he agreed. He’d shown nothing but resistance to this woman, and now he wanted to be alone with her? Confusion joined his frustration, and the more he debated about his response, the more embarrassed he became.
He needed to get out of there.
“I have duties to attend to,” he said again. “Nottingham scouts have been sighted in the area and I should be out with my men. I will entrust Lady Eiselle to your care until I return.”
With that, he moved around Daveigh and headed out of the hall at a quick pace.
He disappeared swiftly and Eiselle watched him go. She could sense that the man wanted nothing to do with her and her heart sank. She’d asked him what he’d expected in a wife, but it was clear that he wanted no part of the arrangement. She had expressed a fear of falling short of his expectations and he’d alluded to the fact that he didn’t think that would be possible but, perhaps, he’d had time to think about it. Perhaps, she was indeed falling short of what he’d expected.
Lords of Eire: An Irish Medieval Romance Bundle Page 4