by C. A. Szarek
“My lady, how are you feeling this evening?” Morag, the headwoman asked.
Leargan swung his head around in time to see the older woman at Cera’s side, setting a full basket of sweet rolls especially for the duchess, on the table.
“Fine, Morag, thank you.” Lady Cera’s voice was guarded, and she avoided looking at the other woman.
“Shall I call for the midwife?” The headwoman didn’t approve of the idea of Tristan delivering Lady Cera and Jorrin’s baby, though he was much more skilled than any midwife.
Cera had told her on many occasions—at least in Leargan’s presence—that she had no need of Peg, the midwife.
“No, Morag,” his lady said evenly. Cera’s eyes narrowed as she looked back at the headwoman.
“As you wish, milady.” Morag’s brow was knitted. She said nothing more but bowed and excused herself from the dais.
Lady Cera sighed, and Jorrin leaned over to whisper something in her ear.
Leargan reclined into the back of his chair as she smiled. No one wanted the lady of the castle upset, especially a pregnant one.
“Leargan, can I go on overnight patrol tonight? Sir Niall said you’re leading.” Lucan’s green eyes were wide and sincere when their gazes collided.
He’d been waiting for the question all day. Brodic had approached the subject that morning, and he’d no doubt the lads had come up with the idea together.
His squire was about to take the next step in his training to become a knight. Leargan had gifted him with his first sword to celebrate the lad’s fifteenth birthday a month before, so it was no surprise Lucan didn’t want to be left behind.
The mage had been officially knighted by the king due to his bravery in saving Lady Cera and the kingdom from the former archduke, but he’d been dying to be considered a skilled, real knight—in Lucan’s words.
Leargan hid a smile. “Aye, lad. There’s no reason you can’t. Then tomorrow you will meet the personal guard and men-at-arms alike on the fighting yard to begin your training. But, no magic.”
The lad nodded seriously, his face losing some of its youthful edge.
Tristan caught his eye and nodded approvingly.
“Thank you, Leargan!” Lucan pumped his fist.
“You don’t need to thank me, lad. You need to work hard. I know you can do it, Sir Lucan.”
Lucan nodded again, his mouth a hard line of determination.
Leargan swallowed a laugh lest he offend the boy.
The duke’s eyes danced.
****
Ansley’s breath caught as he addressed the lad. Stern, but caring. And didn’t that just make her admire him even more? Leargan spoke to him as an equal. Even mentioned his title. Her knight cared for Lucan very much.
It was already difficult enough sitting next to him, teasing and talking and pretending she was fine. Her chest ached every time she looked at him, only to worsen when he glanced back at her. But this was the first time he’d said more than hello in days.
She wanted to be near him…talk to him. Nothing had changed for her. All the self-deprecation in the world wasn’t affecting her heart.
As she watched him interact with everyone else at the head table, Cera’s words echoed in her head. He did smile and laugh a bit, but with an aura of reservation.
Leargan held himself back. He was always observing something or someone as if he knew where everything and everyone was, at all times. The warrior in him required it so he could react if necessary. Her father was like that, too. It was hard to tell if either man ever truly relaxed.
Also like her father, Leargan cared deeply for everything he was in charge of protecting. She could tell by the way he carried himself.
Could she be included?
Lord Dagget teased him at the table, as did the duke. Leargan appeared to laugh easily, which made him even more handsome.
Ansley wanted to see more of that side of Leargan. To be close to him. To be considered his friend. Well, if she was honest, more than just his friend.
Had their kisses truly meant nothing to him?
Pain stabbed her chest.
“Now, it’s my turn to ask you if something is wrong, Ansley,” Leargan said.
She jumped. His soft voice was so close to her ear.
He leaned into her, their faces only inches apart.
As she looked into his eyes, Ansley’s heart sped up, words evaporating. Her gaze slid to his lips. Memories teased of how they’d felt moving against her own. “N…n…nothing…” Stuttering? That was a first.
His eyebrow shot up, so she forced words to keep tumbling from her mouth.
“I’m fine. Just thinking.”
Leargan nodded and moved away.
She wanted to stop him. Wasn’t the least bit offended by his closeness—as a matter of fact, she craved it.
He doesn’t want that with you.
“Ansley…” The hesitation in his voice had her meeting his eyes again. His tone was un-knight-like and, therefore un-Leargan-like.
“Aye?”
But then he shook his head, full mouth a hard line, broad shoulders tight.
She didn’t have the guts to push him, but curiosity ate at her. Turns of watching him flitted through her mind.
Leargan always exuded confidence.
What’s this?
Ansley stared into the dark pools of his eyes. She could fall into him. She needed to. It felt right.
Neither of them spoke, but he stared right back.
Minutes passed, she jolted back to herself, suppressing the tremor that shot down her spine.
They were in the great hall.
It was public, but everyone else had faded away from the moment their gazes had locked. No one existed but him.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Leargan’s voice invaded her thoughts. Back to normal, steady and sure.
As if she’d imagined his uncertainty.
Idiot, get yourself together.
“Aye.” She nodded for effect and forced a smile.
“Leargan.” Sir Niall’s voice made her jump in her seat.
“Aye?” Leargan asked his Second.
“Are you ready?”
“I’ll be there shortly,” Leargan said. “But you can retire. I’ll handle it.”
“I was going to brief the new ones,” Niall said.
“Very well. Please have Fia readied for me.”
“The day is late. Is everything all right?” Ansley asked, worry creeping up.
“Aye. As Lucan mentioned, I’m leading our overnight patrol. Normally the guard would leave such things to the men-at-arms, but we’ve new men.”
“Ah. Be careful, then.”
Leargan smiled, and heat burned her neck, scorched her cheeks. “Always.” He inclined his head and pushed his chair back.
Irrational panic swept her, and she had to stop herself from reaching for his hand. Anything to keep him from leaving her.
Although their conversation wasn’t wholly comfortable, he had spoken to her. Ansley wanted more. “Will I see you in the morning?”
Leargan’s gaze found hers, his dark eyes wide, hand still on the back of his chair. “Aye.” His chest rose with a deep breath. He shifted on his feet and he leaned closer. “Can you make time for me tomorrow? I’d like to speak to you in privacy.”
Her cheeks flamed and Ansley fought the urge to press her lips to his.
He was so close.
Nod. Just nod. Act like his request is normal.
She forced an answer out. “Ah…all…right. Aye.”
“Thank you.” Leargan reached for her hand and squeezed.
She stared at his warm fingers over hers.
Alone. With Leargan?
Her stomach flipped.
Leargan took his leave, and Ansley watched him walk out of the great hall, trying not to be too blatant as she admired the way his brown breeches hugged his rear end.
After forcing her eyes away, she glanced around the hall. Most were fil
ing out, maids starting to sweep in to clean up, removing trays and empty plates, dishes and silverware clattering and clinking.
Lords Tristan and Jorrin stood collectively, and Ansley didn’t miss both ladies assuring their husbands they would meet them in chambers. Aimil even promised to escort Cera.
Ansley piped in that she’d also make sure the duchess came to no harm, ignoring Cera’s grumble that she was not a child.
Both men eventually left the dais, and she was alone with her two best friends at the long table.
“What did he say?” Aimil’s dark eyes were curious.
“He wants to speak to me in private.” Ansley shook her head, disbelief washed over her. What could Leargan have to say to her?
“Then do it,” Cera said.
Ansley nodded absently, trying to calm her heart. “What could he want?”
“You.” Aimil giggled.
Ansley blinked. “No. He doesn’t want me.” She ignored the familiar rush of pain.
“Give him a chance,” Cera said, smiling gently as she rubbed her distended tummy.
One corner of Ansley’s mouth lifted.
Did her friend even realize what she was doing?
“Just tell him what you want, Ans. Tell him how you feel,” Aimil said.
“I couldn’t…”
“You might be surprised with what he has to say,” Cera said.
Ansley narrowed her eyes, studying the other redhead. Cera’s tone had been odd.
The duchess’s gray eyes held something unreadable, but her friend schooled her expression.
“What do you know?” Ansley asked.
Cera’s shrug was casual—too casual. “Nothing. Just…like I said before, I’ve known him a while now. He’s a good man.”
“Aye, he is.” Ansley nodded.
The duchess said nothing more, and Ansley continued to appraise her.
Her friend might have told her a bit about Leargan, but what hadn’t she said?
Chapter Ten
Leargan yawned and stretched. He was going to end up oversleeping in the morning; he felt it in his bones.
It was past three o’clock, and they’d finished their rounds, nestling their horses in the stables and leaving the rest of the night—early morning—watch to reliable men-at-arms.
Blessed Spirit let me get them all trained soon.
It’d been almost a turn since he’d taken over in Greenwald. Even with the best help—which he had in each of his knights—they probably had several more months before he’d feel comfortable leaving things to others.
He’d yet to choose a man in charge of the castle men-at-arms. Jorrin hadn’t pressured him, but perhaps they needed to speak of candidates. He and the personal guard couldn’t pull double duty forever.
Young seemed to be a common trend at Castle Aldern, but Leargan didn’t mind. They were shapeable, trainable, and proving to be loyal and competent. Sometimes experience wasn’t everything.
Lucan and Brodic walked ahead of him, whispering excitedly to each other.
“Goodnight, sir.” Brodic whirled and bowed deeply, his blond locks falling into his eyes.
Leargan couldn’t help but smile.
Young was refreshing. Made him remember his own training days, and how good it felt to learn; have a purpose.
The lad had been his, first as page, then squire, since the tender age of eight. He idolized Leargan. Most of the time that wasn’t hard to live up to, it made him want to be a better man, a better knight. Although, Leargan was only three and twenty, Brodic looked to him like a father, more than anything.
“Goodnight, lad.” He ruffled Brodic’s fair hair and winked. “Goodnight, Sir Lucan.”
The other lad beamed and Leargan chuckled, inclining his head as Lucan returned his gesture.
“Good job tonight. You both did excellent. I’ve some news I haven’t shared with anyone just yet, but you will have another joining your lessons with Roduch.”
Both young men watched him, waiting for Leargan to continue.
“I know you’re both familiar with the stable boy, Alaric.”
“Aye, sir.” Brodic nodded. “He’s our friend.”
“Good. Sir Niall will take him to squire. He’ll start tomorrow, or today, depending on how you look at it.”
Lucan whooped and Brodic grinned.
“I’m glad you’re both excited for him. However, he’ll have an advantage over you lads.”
Brodic and Lucan froze, shoulder to shoulder and stared Leargan down.
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Relax. I only mean he’s been able to sleep all night and you two only have about four hours until morning meal.”
The lads looked at each other and made a dash for the castle, leaving him chuckling in the courtyard.
Leargan headed toward the servants’ entrance through the kitchens instead of the main doors to Castle Aldern like the lads. He always did a final round of the castle innards before climbing into bed. It made him feel more secure.
A familiar voice made him pause.
Ansley.
What the hell was she doing awake, let alone outside at this time of night?
Leargan’s stomach fluttered.
“Ali, come on! Why do I have to be with you?”
He relaxed a tad at the annoyance in her voice. So nothing was wrong. Her bondmate was just demanding her attention.
The wolf heard his steps.
His eyes met her yellow ones when he’d rounded the corner.
She crouched, with her ears pitched forward. A low growl sounded.
Leargan tensed, tempted to draw his sword. Ali was about to rush and pounce.
“Ali?” Ansley’s voice held alarm.
“Only me. Leargan.” He put palm out flat.
Aye, like that would help. Just gives her something to sink her teeth into first.
The she-wolf didn’t pause, and his heartbeat kicked up.
Was she going to attack?
“Ali, stop!” Ansley came around the corner with wide teal eyes.
The beast froze.
Leargan flexed his grip on the hilt of his sword, his pulse thundering in his ears. His temples throbbed. He cleared his throat when his gaze met Ansley’s, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off her bondmate.
“I’m so sorry, Leargan.”
At least she’d finally dropped the Sir.
Ansley slid in front of the beast.
Ali made a noise in her throat, but her mistress ignored her.
“It’s fine. She’s protecting you. Her job.”
“She overreacts. We’re within the castle gates, there’s nothing to fear. You’re in charge here, we’re safe.”
Pride at the compliment rolled over him, and Leargan smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate your faith in me.”
She smiled, and his heart flipped. “I mean every word.”
Gorgeous.
He needed a distraction; Leargan burned to snatch her up and kiss her.
The area was lit by a magic orb attached to the castle wall. Lucan had installed the lights all over the Castle—inside and out. They sensed light and dark, only coming to life when necessary.
Their magic wore off every few months, and the mage would have to cast his spell again. The lad was getting stronger, and so was the power of the lights. Lasting longer.
Leargan inclined his head. “I’d ask what you’re doing up, but you’ve a finicky bondmate?”
Ansley came closer, the large she-wolf at her side. Her hand was buried in the fur at the back of the beast’s neck.
The gesture was something he’d witnessed often since her arrival. Evidently the immediate way for Ansley to calm her wolf.
“Aye. She insisted I come outside with her. Not sure why, she’s already been hunting with Trik and Isair. I was up anyway, with Cera and Aimil in the Duchess Solar. Avril stayed for a while, too. Until Sir Roduch collected her.”
“Ah. Glad she’s relaxing and making some friends.”
<
br /> Her shoulders loosened when Ali’s did. Ansley’s wolf leaned into her thigh. “She kind of clings to me. I don’t mind. But I’ve told her Cera and Aimil want to be her friends, too. Since they’re noble, my guess is she thinks of them differently than me.”
The thin material of her shirt clung to her body, and Leargan tried not to stare.
She wore no jerkin, just a soft tan tunic untucked from her brown breeches and hanging mid-thigh. Her braid looked hastily made and messy, quite the opposite of normal. Strands escaped, red locks dancing around her face, and he itched to touch her.
“You’re wellborn.” He forced words out, clearing his throat.
“Right. But no title. I think it helps her.”
“You found her.”
“That, too.” Ansley nodded. “But you found her, too.”
“You’re female. She won’t let any male near her except Roduch.”
“Sir Roduch is a good man. If she can move passed all that happened to her, he’d be good for her.”
Leargan nodded. He didn’t want to talk about his friend and the girl. He wanted to kiss Ansley. He planted his fists at his sides, chided himself to focus on her words. Discussing someone else was for the better.
They were supposed to meet in the morning.
He needed time to gather his thoughts.
Apologize.
Why’d she agreed to speak privately?
Alone.
Even if he mustered the guts to apologize, how could he keep his hands to himself? The struggle was on right now. They were outside. Contained in a room? It wouldn’t’ be good for his self-control.
Jorrin had advised telling her about the scroll. Could he? Perhaps propose?
Right. She’d think you’re crazy.
Ali growled and darted after something in the shadow the light cast.
Ansley groaned and it made his cock twitch. Her gaze was locked in the direction of her wolf.
“I’m tired. I’m about to leave her out here.”
“One of the guards will let her back in. The night watch often has to keep an eye out for Trikser and Isair.”
“I’ve thought-sent my threat; we’ll see.” She smiled.
Leargan met those teal eyes and smiled back. “All right. I’ll escort you to your chambers.”
Nodding, she jumped when he looped his arm in hers. But she didn’t pull away.