Cortez wriggled his dark eyebrows. “She is cutting the circulation off in my fingers,” he said in a low voice. “She is determined to show me her pony.”
“Ah,” Merlin lifted his eyebrows in understanding.
Sophie looked up at the tall, pale, red-haired sergeant that had joined them. “Do you want to see my pony, too?” she asked.
Merlin grinned. “It would be my pleasure, my lady.”
Pleased, Sophie now had two people willing to view her pony. As the sun rose, so did the temperature and the horse flies were out in force. The smell of the stables grew stronger. Cortez leaned in Merlin’s direction and lowered his tone as they passed into the shadow of the wall.
“Send my knights to me and prepare the men to leave,” he said. “If all works as it should, we should be heading home within the hour.”
“But I must see a pony, my lord.”
“As soon as you see the damnable thing, be gone.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Neither man said another word as they entered the stable yards. Sophie confidently pulled Cortez towards the stalls on the north end of the stable. Cortez could see a couple of small gray palfreys and in one of the stalls, a small black and white pony. Sophie let go of his hand long enough to unlatch the stall door and shove it open as much as her little hands would allow.
“See?” she turned to the men proudly. “This is General.”
Cortez smiled faintly as he leaned up against the open stall door, gazing down at the fat pony. The pony was eating its morning meal, crunching the grain and nuzzling Sophie with dusty lips. She rubbed the pony’s velvety nose, laughing loudly when his big lips nibbled at her.
“He is a fine animal,” Cortez said, eyeing Merlin. The man received the silent message and quit the stables as Cortez continued. “Did you give him his name?”
Sophie nodded; she was no more than a toddler but very bright. She spoke quite well for such a young child. “My Dada calls me Little General. So I named him General.” She looked up at him with those great blue eyes. “Do you know my Dada?”
Cortez nodded slowly. “I did.”
She cocked her head thoughtfully and Cortez could literally see the thoughts rolling through her young mind. “He’s been gone a long time,” she said sadly. “Do you know where he is? My mother says he is away. She does not know where.”
Cortez’s smile faded as he stared down at the little girl. He began to see how Lady Edlington’s grief had spilled over onto her child, unable or unwilling to tell the little girl the truth of her father’s absence. Initially, Cortez felt some irritation about that, but then he simply felt pity. It was obvious that the child missed her father. At that moment, something inside Cortez began to feel the slightest bit of concern and protectiveness over the girl. His own child, had she lived, would have been the same age. It occurred to him that when he married Lady Edlington, he would gain the child he had lost. The realization brought an oddly pleasurable moment.
He gazed down at her over the top of the stall. “Your father is far away, little one,” he said softly. “He has gone to a place where we cannot go.”
She stopped petting the pony and walked towards him across the crunchy rushes on the bottom of the stall. “Why not?” she wanted to know. “I want to go where my father is.”
He reached down and picked her up, holding her against his broad chest. They gazed at each other a moment as if sizing one another up, onyx eyes against brilliant blue. He thought she might actually demand to be set down by the way she was looking at him but, strangely, she did not. She simply stared at him.
“Your father is in a wonderful place of light and joy,” Cortez said quietly. “He is living with the angels. They are taking great care of him and someday, if you are a very good girl, you will be able to see him again.”
She stared at him with her bottomless eyes. “Where do the angels live?”
“In Heaven with God, our Holy Father. Have you not been told this in church?”
She blinked, thinking. “I do not like church.”
“You do not like it? Why not?”
Her brow furrowed. “It is a scary place.”
He turned away from the pony’s stall and began to move out into the morning sunshine. “Why is it scary?”
She put her little arms around his neck to hold on. He was very tall, much taller than her father, and Sophie felt as if she were on top of a very high tree, looking down at everything. But she missed her father so much that she rather liked being held by this strange man who had been very kind to her. It made her feel safe and comforted.
“Because the priest yells,” she said frankly. “He sings scary songs.”
Cortez laughed softly and patted her chubby little leg. “Aye, they do yell. I think church is a scary place, too.”
She looked at him, grinning. Cortez winked at her, becoming more enamored with her by the moment. “Now, tell me the truth,” he said gently. “Where is your nurse?”
She scrunched her nose up, making him laugh again. “I do not know.”
“You do not know?”
“Nay.”
“Hmmm,” he wriggled his eyebrows as they emerged into the sunlight. “Do you think that she is looking for you?”
Sophie shrugged, averting her gaze by pretending to look at his tunic, and he dipped his head to try and look her in the eye. “Do you think she is frightened that you are missing?” he asked gently.
Sophie twitched her nose and pursed her lips, torn between guilt and not caring. Cortez didn’t push her. He patted her leg again and passed from the stables into the enormous lower bailey. To the south, he could see his men beginning to break down their encampment; fires were being doused and horses wrangled. Above, white clouds scattered across the sky in the sea breeze blowing in from the south. He could hear the scream of gulls riding the drafts.
Glancing to his right, he could see the Corfe’s mighty keep soaring to the sky, knowing that somewhere inside, Lady Edlington was being informed that her daughter was with de Bretagne and more than likely having fits over it. He fully expected to see her any moment. But first, he knew it was imperative that he gain Sophie’s cooperation. If he were to accomplish his task, then having the child on his side would be paramount. He didn’t want to create a scene with a terrified mother and child, demanding they accompany him back to Sherborne. What he had to do needed to be done with foresight and care. He had to be sly.
“Lady Sophie,” he slowed his steps, watching his men efficiently break camp. “Would you like to go on an adventure?”
She stared at him curiously. “An ad… ad…?”
“Adventure,” he finished for her. He pretended to think. “Let me see; an adventure is something fun, like a journey or mayhap a visit somewhere. Have you ever been away from your home?”
Sophie shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “I have always been here or to church.”
“Where it is scary.”
“Aye.”
He wriggled his eyebrows. “I live in a place called Sherborne Castle. My castle is a big place with many ponies and dogs and rabbits. It is surrounded by a big lake. But it is a sad place.”
He had her interest; she was focused on his words. “Why is it sad?”
“There is no princess there.”
“No princess?”
He nodded. “I need a princess so that my home will not be sad. Would you like to be the princess of my castle?”
Sophie’s big eyes glittered with the possibilities. Before she could reply, Cortez caught sight of people spilling forth from the upper bailey. He was not surprised to see Lady Edlington leading the pack. Clad in a dual-colored surcoat of deep blue and pale green, like the colors of her eyes, she approached with a stricken look on her face.
The sea breeze had picked up, streaming her beautiful hair behind her like a banner. It also plastered her garment against her body, affording Cortez and any other man who happened to notice her, an unobstructed view of her magnificent f
igure. She had large breasts, more than likely due to childbearing, and a tiny waist. Cortez was torn between absorbing the lines of her spectacular body and gazing into her magnificent face. There was nothing about the woman that was imperfect.
But he forced himself away from thoughts of her body, realizing he had been correct in using her daughter to coerce her to leave her chamber. He could have laid siege to the keep for days and never achieved what one tiny girl had managed to accomplish in a matter of minutes. Lady Edlington came straight at him and held out her arms.
“Give me my baby,” she demanded quietly.
Cortez’s gaze was cool. He looked at Sophie, who was staring down at her mother. Surprisingly, the little girl didn’t immediately reach for her mother. Cortez ignored the demand.
“Lady Sophie and I have been visiting her pony,” he said casually. “She is a delightful child.”
Diamantha was beginning to lose her calm demeanor. “Give her back to me, de Bretagne,” she lowered her voice. “She is of no use to you.”
He lifted his eyebrows at her. “I beg to differ, madam,” he said. “She is of great use. She released you from your chamber, did she not?”
Diamantha dropped her arms, looking at Cortez as if he were the most contemptible creature on earth. She struggled not to lose her temper, knowing it would only work against her. She cursed herself for being stupid enough to let Sophie out of her sight, although she had let the child go with her nurse early that morning to feed and dress her. She had no idea that Sophie would escape the older woman although she should have guessed. Sophie was always desperate to see her pony first thing in the morning. Diamantha’s gaze moved to her daughter.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she purred. She had a sweet and low voice. “How is General this morning?”
Sophie had her arms wrapped around Cortez’s neck. “He is eating,” she said. “Mummy, I am hungry. Can I have porridge and honey?”
“Of course,” Diamantha lifted an expectant eyebrow at Cortez as she held her arms out to her daughter. “We shall go inside and break our fast.”
Cortez met her gaze, his dark eyes glittering. But instead of handing over the child, he began to walk towards the upper bailey with the girl snugly in his arms. “I rather like porridge and honey,” he told Sophie. “May I have porridge, too?”
She nodded. “Annie says it is mush.”
“Who is Annie?”
Sophie pointed to an older woman standing behind Diamantha, wringing her hands worriedly. “My nurse.”
Cortez grinned at her, patted her leg, and continued on to the keep. Frustrated and the least bit furious, Diamantha collected her skirts and stomped after the pair. She caught up to them in short order, sticking close to her daughter as the enormous knight held her. She couldn’t help but notice that Sophie didn’t seem the least bit distressed. The little girl had been inordinately attached to her father and the man’s absence had rocked her deeply. Diamantha hadn’t the heart to tell her daughter that her beloved father was never coming home. At some point she knew she would have to, especially in light of her betrothal to Cortez, but she simply wasn’t ready to yet.
As Cortez and her daughter moved to the path that led through the gatehouse that protected the upper ward, Diamantha fell back slightly and eyed Cortez as the man walked ahead of her. He was keeping up a running conversation with Sophie, smiling at the child as he spoke. Little Sophie held on to his neck, nodding her head on occasion and even speaking once in a while. But Cortez seemed to be doing all of the talking and he had Sophie completely enthralled.
At first, Diamantha had naturally been irritated and fearful that the big knight had physical possession of her daughter, but as they walked up the hill and into the gatehouse that led to the upper bailey, she was beginning to feel something else. In spite of her resistance to everything Cortez represented, she couldn’t help but be softened by his manner with Sophie. It was almost enough to ease her, but not quite.
Darker thoughts filled her head. Seeing Cortez again reminded her of their last conversation, of the discussion of Robert’s death. Cortez had not couched his delivery of the details. In fact, he seemed to have been rather forceful in the way he had spoken, as if to emphasize the fact that there had been no chance for Robert’s survival. Diamantha had spent the better part of the evening weeping about that, so very shattered at the description of her husband’s mortal wounds.
She had fallen asleep with visions of Robert’s broken body languishing in the mud and she had awoken to mental images of great sucking chest wounds, as de Bretagne had so inelegantly phrased it. She felt as if she were living Robert’s death all over again now with the exact knowledge of his final moments. She almost wished de Bretagne hadn’t told her. It had been such a horrible way to die for a man she had dearly loved. Now, instead of her last memories of him being those of a sound and strong husband departing for battle, she had thoughts of a broken shell of a man who had suffered a terrible death, and she had de Bretagne to blame for it. She was trying very hard not to hate him.
Therefore, it was a struggle not to snap as they made their way into the upper bailey. The new day was dawning and the fog and clouds that had drifted in from the sea were starting to clear out. Her gaze was fixed to the massive form in front of her, this bear of a man carrying her precious child in his arms. As they neared the tall keep, with stonework like rib bones stretching up the walls, Sophie squirmed down from Cortez’s arms and grabbed his hand.
“Come,” she said, rather firmly.
Once again, Cortez found himself being dragged along by a toddler. Diamantha followed close behind, watching her daughter lug the big knight after her. Cortez seemed to be taking it all in stride, allowing the child to lead him around. He was showing a remarkable amount of patience and understanding, which she’d heard were not his finer attributes. The man had fire all about him, or so Helene once told her. But with her daughter, he seemed to be mushy like clay.
Corfe’s enormous keep soared in front of them as they neared the entry. The big, heavy entry door, more iron than wood, opened wide and they were ushered into the cool innards. They passed directly into a corridor that opened up into a smaller hall where a hearth tall enough for a man to stand in was spitting out smoke and flame. Servants bustled around, carrying plates of bread and bowls of butter, as Cortez took Sophie to a heavy feasting table and carefully sat her down on the bench.
“There you are, my lady,” he said to her. “Delivered safely for your meal.”
Sophie was on her knees on the bench. A small fat hand patted the seat next to her. “Sit down,” she commanded. “You sit here.”
Cortez obliged, grinning as he sat down next to her. “My thanks, my lady.”
By this time, Sophie was completely enamored with him. It was clear that anyone who had so willingly visited her pony and had spoken so kindly to her naturally had her attention. When Cortez took a hunk of white bread off a plate and began to slather it with butter, she ran her finger along the butter and licked it. He took the dulled knife and smeared butter on her hand, causing her to laugh loudly. It was an enchanting exchange.
Diamantha stood at the end of the table, watching the interaction between them grow. It was increasingly difficult to hate a man who was so easily charming her daughter but she knew why he was doing it; she was no fool. He was using Sophie to get to her, or at least manipulate her. Any man who would do that was a beast indeed, but on the other hand, he was certainly making her daughter happy regardless of his reasons behind it. Torn and confused by the man, his actions, and her own feelings towards him, she made her way down the table and sat on her daughter’s other side.
In silence, she began to prepare her daughter’s meal as Sophie played with Cortez. Now, he was pretending to bite the buttered fingers and she was squealing happily. Diamantha eyed her child as the nurse handed her the girl’s porridge and Diamantha put the right amount of honey on it. She even put in a few raisins and dried currants before putting it in fr
ont of Sophie.
“There, now,” she said in her soft, sultry voice. “Eat your porridge, sweetheart.”
Sophie happily picked up a wooden spoon and began shoveling. She was on her knees on the bench, leaning forward with one hand on the table and the other hand spooning the sweet porridge into her mouth. She pushed about four spoonfuls in before turning to Cortez and tried to feed him some of her mush. Cortez begged off politely.
“That is your meal, little one,” he told her. “Eat all of it so that you may grow up strong.”
Sophie grinned at him, mouth full of porridge, and he snorted. It was really quite sweet and quite comical. As the little girl turned back to her bowl, Cortez’s eyes locked with Diamantha’s over the top of her daughter’s head.
The woman was watching him, appraising him, still uncertain of his motives. But it was more than that; he could see fire there, lingering in the depths. A jolt ran through him, one of warmth and mild excitement. He couldn’t help it. The woman seemed to have an effect on him like he had never before experienced. Not even his sweet Helene had breathed such fire into his heart, making it flutter with a mere glance. It was a wholly odd but entirely delicious sensation and for lack of a better response, he simply smiled.
“My mother, being Spanish, used to feed my brother and I rice with very dark sweet-salt sprinkled on it,” he told her. “Our cook used to make cakes from the same grain and sweet-salt. It is still my favorite thing to eat.”
Diamantha just stared at the man. She wasn’t in any mood for small talk but she was in the midst of an increasing dilemma. It was obvious that Sophie liked the man and Cortez seemed to feel the same way towards her. His gentleness and patience with her little girl made her look at the man through new eyes and she struggling not to. She knew it was all an act for her benefit; he had ulterior motives. Bewildered, and resistant, she lowered her gaze.
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