by Alli Stewart
She pulled the plan of the castle from beneath the tomes.
“I've had ample time in the last two weeks to consider the defence of the castle.” She flattened the creases from the paper. “Now, I think if we put a redoubt in here...” She stabbed at the paper with her forefinger. “And a defensive ditch, along here.”
When her remarks were met with silence, she looked up. Both men stared at her as if she had walked into the room stark naked.
“Is there a problem?”
Luke cleared his throat. “With respect, madam, but your father… Sir John Felton… has placed me in command of this garrison and I—”
“Do you not think me capable of having an opinion on how to defend my own home?” She fixed him with a well-practiced stare which would make a weaker man quail.
Luke Collyer returned the gaze without blinking. “I respect your opinion, madam, and if... when... I need your advice I shall ask for it.”
How dare this man speak to me in that condescending manner. She took a steadying breath and squared her shoulders. She was Deliverance Felton, chatelaine of this castle and this Collyer a mere…a mere…
“And what experience do you have, captain?”
The man’s gaze held hers and he too straightened, resting his hand on The Exercise of Armes. “I have been a soldier since I was nineteen, madam. I have fought on the continent and in the Scottish wars. Your father chose me for this task with every confidence in my abilities. You can trust me with the protection of this castle, and you can return to more appropriate concerns.”
“More appropriate concerns?” Deliverance bridled. “What is more appropriate than the safety of Kinton Lacey?”
Luke Collyer’s eyes narrowed. The unusual light grey eyes, at odds with the dark brown hair that framed his lean, tanned face were fixed on her had lost all trace of humour. She saw a hard, uncompromising soldier. “Forgive me, madam, but military matters are not for gently-bred women. All I am saying is that you are free to return to—”
“My embroidery, perhaps?” she said in a tone that dripped ice. “I assure you, Captain Collyer that the defence of my home is of far greater importance to me than its decoration. I have read all these books,” she gestured at the table, “and I warrant I know as much of matters military as you, Captain Collyer.”
“And I have had years of practical experience, madam,” he responded in a tone that matched hers for frigidity.
Melchior cleared his throat. “I think, madam, this is a discussion for the morning. These two gentlemen have ridden from Gloucester and fought a battle, vanquishing our foes. Sirs, you must be tired and hungry. Let me show you to your quarters and see you are fed. In the morning we will all be in a better position to discuss defensive works.”
Deliverance shot her steward a quick, angry glance. She did not need or want Melchior's intervention but it had the desired effect, the tension in the room dissipating as if he had opened the window and let in the breeze.
She tossed the paper back on to the table and sniffed. “Very well. If you need me, I shall be in my chamber hard at work... at my embroidery.”
~*~
“Insufferable man.” Deliverance ranted to her sister as she concluded her summation of the discussion with Captain Collyer.
Penitence looked up from her needlework. “He is a man, Liv. Of course he is going to want to take command. What does Father say?”
Deliverance pulled out their father's letter and began to read.
“Dearest daughter, I trust this letter finds you and your sister in good health. Reports of Sir Richard Farrington's increasing movements in the area of Kinton Lacey has caused me some concern, so I am sending one of my best men to you to reinforce the garrison and command the defences in the event of an attack by the King's men. I trust you to defer to Captain Collyer in all matters military. I feel more certain in my mind knowing you and my beloved Kinton Lacey are in a man's hands.”
“There you are,” Penitence commented. “Father is quite explicit. Your Captain Collyer is here to take command.”
Deliverance sniffed and continued, her eyes widening as she silently read the next sentence.
“Deliverance, daughter, I must warn you that Captain Collyer has something of a reputation and an eye for a pretty face, so I trust you to see to the protection of your sister's honor and to report to me should any indiscretion occur. Yr loving father JF.”
Deliverance set the letter down, wounded by the tone of the letter, particularly her father's last words. Beautiful, gentle and serene Penitence would always be considered the one worthy of protecting, never her.
“What's the matter?” Penitence, always intuitive to her sister's moods, looked up, her brow creased with concern. “What else did Father say?”
Deliverance forced a smile. “Nothing. Just sent us his love.” She ran a hand across her forehead. “It has been rather a trying day.”
She refolded her father’s letter and tucked it into her skirts.
“Deliverance?” her sister prompted.
“I should be grateful to Captain Collyer for relieving me of the terrible responsibility of the castle's defence. Grateful? This is my home, my castle…”
As Deliverance paced the floor, Penitence bent her head to her embroidery. Deliverance heard her sister murmur as she stabbed the needle through the cloth. “Poor man.”
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