Christin flushed a dull red, embarrassed by such talk even though she knew he was teasing her. “And what would you do with me?” she asked. “Keep me locked up at Narborough? I do not suppose you would let me continue serving The Marshal.”
Bric looked at her as if she had gone mad. “Never,” he declared. “The woman I marry will know her place and that will be to make me happy. And anything else I can think of.”
He exaggerated his heavy Irish accent, which made it both humorous and threatening. As he chuckled at his own wittiness, Christin went along with his joke.
“Then God help the woman you marry if that is as much as you think of her,” she said. “Women have minds and opinions, you know. They do very well for themselves.”
Bric pointed his knife at her as he chewed. “You are an exception,” he said. “But, then again, you are a de Lohr. The entire family is full of exceptional people. But women, for the most part, are cattle. They want to be herded, fed, kept warm and safe. Once in a while, they do something useful.”
He and Kevin laughed in agreement. Even Peter grinned until Christin pinched him. “Ouch!” he yelled, rubbing his arm as he looked at her. “What was that for?”
“For concurring with them,” she said, lifting an eyebrow in a gesture that looked very much like her mother. “You think more of women than they do – right?”
Peter made a face at her but didn’t answer, fearful of another pinch. He continued eating as Alexander returned to their table with two serving wenches in tow. The women had two big trenchers full of food and both of them ended up in front of Christin.
Her eyes widened.
“That is a great deal of food,” she said, looking to Alexander. “Truly, my lord… you did not need to go to the trouble, but I am most appreciative.”
Alexander eyed her a moment before digging into his own food. “It is the least I can do for the woman who saved my life,” he said. Then, he looked at the others. “There are three rooms on the top floor and I have confiscated all of them. One is for the lady and the other two are for us. Peter, you and I shall share a chamber because I do not wish to be kept up all night by Bric’s snoring. And if you snore, I shall throw you out of the window.”
Peter snorted in reply, shoveling food into his mouth just like they all were. Even Christin began to eat the stewed beef and carrots boiled in vinegar and cinnamon, but she was still so cold and so wet that she shivered the entire time. The hot food helped but with her wet clothing, even the heat from the brazier against her amounted to little more than hot, damp clothing. She was just drinking the last of her hot wine when she heard Alexander’s voice.
“Peter,” he said quietly. “Look at your sister.”
Christin’s head shot up, looking at her brother with wide eyes, wondering why on earth Alexander should say such a thing. Even Peter looked at her curiously, his mouth still full of food.
“Why?” he finally asked.
Alexander set down the cup in his hand. Those dark eyes were fixed on Christin as he stood up and came around the table. She was looking at him with great curiosity, and perhaps even some fear, when he reached out and lifted her left arm by the wrist.
“Feel her clothing,” he said. “The woman is soaked to the skin and none of us has noticed.”
Peter looked at Christin in horror, touching her sleeve and even her skirts. Alexander was absolutely correct; she was soaked.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded. “You are going to catch your death.”
Christin looked at him, at the others, contritely. “It is nothing of concern, truly,” she said. “I am sitting by the fire. I will dry out.”
Peter didn’t believe that for a moment. “You are going to get sick and Mother will blame me. You really should have told me, Cissy.”
He started to get up so he could tend to her, but Alexander shoved him down by the shoulder.
“Sit and finish your meal,” he said. “I am finished already. I will see to our martyr.”
With that, he crooked a finger at Christin, motioning for her to come with him. She was on her feet in an instant, grabbing her satchel and her wet cloak as she followed Alexander from the alcove and into the common room beyond. She trailed behind the man as he moved through the inn, towards the stairs that led to the upper floors, snapping orders to the serving wenches as he went. He ordered a bath and more food to be taken up to the lady’s chamber.
Although Christin wasn’t one to let men that she didn’t know take charge of her, Alexander was different. It wasn’t as if she had any choice; he was leading and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
But it was more than that.
She’d been in awe of the man from the moment she met him and, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she was flattered that he would take the time to assist her. He made her heart flutter, just a little, and speaking to the man made her feel the least bit jittery. Completely out of character for the normally confident young woman who had never met a man yet who intimidated or interested her.
But Alexander de Sherrington had… and did.
Even as she walked behind him, she found herself looking at the sheer size of the man. He was tall, though she’d seen taller, but the width of his shoulders and the size of his arms had her attention. There was enormous physical power there. She wasn’t even really listening to what he was saying. All she could think of was the fact that she was walking with Alexander de Sherrington.
Sherry.
Aye, she was starstruck.
She could admit it.
Alexander took the stairs to the second floor and Christin followed closely behind. Once they got to the landing, there was a smaller staircase that led to the third floor, a staircase that seemed to lean slightly, and they took that one to the top floor. Once there, Alexander took her to the smaller chamber that overlooked the stable yard.
There was already a fire in the hearth because the room was rented for the night and the servants had prepared the chamber. There was even a warming pan for the bed propped up against the hearth. Alexander entered the room and lit the taper that was on the small table next to the hearth, bringing more light into the space. The warm glow made it feel safe and cozy as the storm raged outside.
“You should be comfortable here,” he said, looking around the chamber. “They are bringing you a hot bath and wine. Is there anything else you need?”
He was being quite attentive and Christin wasn’t sure why. “If there is, I can send for it,” she said. “Truly, you needn’t have gone through so much trouble. I am sorry to have taken you away from my brother and your friends.”
“It was no trouble,” he said, his gaze finally falling on her. He gestured to her clothing. “You had better get out of those wet things immediately.”
“I will, thank you,” she said. “I am ashamed to have been such a bother. You may go if you wish. I can take care of myself.”
“Are you trying to rid yourself of me?”
She looked stricken. “Nay,” she said. “’Tis simply that I feel as if I have been trouble to you from the outset. I do not wish to be any further inconvenience.”
He cocked his head. “Outset? Explain.”
She gestured in a general southerly direction. “At Ramsbury,” she said. “And then in London. Truly, my lord, I am very sorry if I offended you by dispatching your opponent at The Pox. It’s just that you had wine in your eyes and I could see that… well, I thought that he had you at a disadvantage. Just for the moment, of course. I only wished to help.”
Those dark eyes took on a glimmer. Looking behind him, he noted a chair and planted his big body on it. With the door open, and Christin still standing in the doorway, there was nothing improper about him remaining, at least for the moment.
“Firstly, there will be no more of this nonsense with a formal address,” he told her in a rumbling tone, though not unfriendly. “My friends call me Sherry. Since you have killed on my behalf, I will grant you that pri
vilege. It is the least I can do.”
Christin’s pale cheeks flushed in the dim light. “Thank you, my… I mean, thank you,” she said. “I am honored that you would consider me a friend. Well, not a friend. A comrade. Oh… not a comrade, either. God’s Bones… I don’t know what I am, but thank you, anyway.”
By the time she was finished, he was grinning at her with those big, white teeth set against the black beard. “You are a female associate,” he said. “There is only one other female I will allow to call me Sherry. You know Susanna de Dere, of course. She is the only other one. I like the woman.”
“So do I.”
“And she likes you,” Alexander said. He settled back in the chair, folding his enormous arms over his chest as he gave her an appraising look. “Tell me about yourself, Lady Christin de Lohr. I know your father well, and your uncle, but I have only heard about you.”
“What have you heard?”
His smile broadened. “That you are flawless in whatever you do, a true de Lohr to the bone. Had you been born a man, you would have been a magnificent knight.”
A smile creased her lips. “That is the greatest compliment anyone could have paid me. Thank you.”
“It is true, or so I have been told. But from what I have seen in the short time we have been associated, I believe the rumors.”
The servants picked that moment to bring in the big, copper tub and all of the accompaniments, including buckets of hot water, a stool, and drying linens. Christin was forced to move out of their way, which put her next to Alexander. He pulled out a chair for her as the hot bath was prepared.
“You may as well sit,” he said, watching her perch on the edge of the chair in her wet clothing. “You have not answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Tell me about yourself.”
Christin set her satchel on the table. “There is not much to tell,” she said. “My life has been unremarkable. I fostered at Thunderbey Castle.”
“That is East Anglia.”
“Correct,” she said. “Dashiell du Reims’ father is the Earl of East Anglia. They are cousins to the House of de Lohr, you know. My grandmother was the sister to Dashiell’s grandfather, Tevin du Reims.”
Alexander nodded. “I remember hearing that,” he said. “So you fostered at Thunderbey. Did you enjoy it?”
She nodded. “It was my home for about five years. I loved it there.”
“Did they teach you the common female pursuits, or were you out in the yard with the men learning to fight with swords because you are a de Lohr?”
He meant it as a joke and she grinned, displaying her father’s curvy smile. “They would not let me learn to fight with a sword.”
“Did you try?”
“What do you think?”
He laughed softly. “I think you tried,” he said, sobering. “Did you learn anything?”
“I learned enough until the earl’s wife forced me to stop.”
“It is their loss. But the skills I’ve witnessed go beyond just a few lessons. Who taught you?”
“My father, mostly.”
“He taught you well.”
“That may be, but he does not know that I use what he taught me.”
Alexander nodded. “I know,” he said quietly. “I was told your father does not know who you truly serve.”
Christin nodded, watching the servants put the last bucket of hot water in the tub. They were keeping their voices low, and their words cryptic, so those around them wouldn’t hear. She had learned long ago that men, and women, in the vocation of espionage don’t live long if they speak openly about it.
She’d learned to hide her profession.
“It’s strange, really,” she said. “From the moment I began this journey, I have felt as if I belong here. As if it is what I was always meant to do. I know that sounds odd coming from a woman, but I feel as if I am accomplishing something that few women can claim.”
Alexander could see the contentment in her face as she spoke. There was something about Christin de Lohr that seemed to transcend normal womanhood. Certainly, she was beautiful. Absolutely stunning. But there was steely strength below the surface. She was no simple lady, content with the role society demanded of her.
Quite the contrary.
He rather liked that.
“That is because you are,” he said as the last servant left the chamber, taking the buckets with him. “It is good that you realize that. It means you will never take it for granted. You will always respect the privilege you have been given.”
Christin nodded, grinning bashfully as she realized he understood exactly what she’d been trying to verbalize. She further realized that she had taken enough of the man’s time.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I must sound foolish. A man like you has better things to do than listen to my ramblings.”
“It’s not often I hear ramblings. Coming from you, it’s not so bad.”
Her grin turned into a giggle and she looked away, absolutely mortified that her cheeks were starting to flame again.
“Well,” she said, “you have been kind, anyway. You did not have to give me your time or your attention. I am sure you would rather be with your friends downstairs.”
He shrugged, lifting those big shoulders. “I already know all there is to know about them,” he said. “Since you and I have seen action together twice, I thought I should come to know a little about you, too. If The Marshal permits you to serve him, then clearly, you are extraordinary.”
He was showing interest in her, which was thrilling. She tried not to read too much into it, telling herself that he was only being polite. She couldn’t bring herself to even consider that it might be something more.
“We are to see more action in the coming days at Norwich,” she said, changing the subject because his personal questions had her uncertain. “With the king coming, it should prove… interesting.”
Alexander’s gaze lingered on her for a moment. He couldn’t help but notice she didn’t seem to want to talk about herself more than she already had, which was disappointing. Therefore, he did the polite thing and went with her change of focus.
“Have you been around the king at all?” he asked. “I mean, have you met the man personally?”
She nodded. “When I was young,” she said. “I was with my father when we went to London and I met John then, but I have only seen him occasionally since. We’ve had no contact other than that.”
Alexander sighed faintly. “You know that he has an eye for beautiful women, don’t you?”
“Why should that concern me?”
“Because you are astonishingly beautiful. That will not escape his notice.”
She looked at him in surprise. So the man thought she was beautiful, did he? The entire conversation had been peppered with what could easily be construed as compliments and Christin was genuinely at a loss how to respond. Either Alexander was free with meaningless flattery or he truly meant what he was saying. She hoped it was the latter. Given that she had no idea how to respond, the flush in her cheeks was back with a vengeance.
“I am no one of consequence,” she said. “I do not care what he thinks.”
Alexander looked at her seriously. “You cannot possibly mean that,” he said, his voice low. “Surely you know that if the king sees a woman he fancies, he has been known to claim her. For his bed, I mean. It does not matter if the woman is married to an ally or the daughter of an enemy. If the king demands you warm his bed, there will be trouble.”
Christin had heard that, of course. She knew what Alexander meant from the beginning. But given her status as a Marshal agent, she wasn’t worried about it. Foolishly, she was confident that she would remain untouched and unnoticed.
“He will not touch me,” she said with confidence. “My father will have something to say about that and he does not wish to provoke Christopher de Lohr.”
Alexander lifted his eyebrows. “Mayhap,” he said. “The king has
a healthy fear of your father and for good reason, but still… you must take precautions. Try to stay out of his sight and never allow yourself to be alone with him. This is for your safety, my lady. If the king moves for you, there is little the rest of us can do to defend you.”
“I can use a dagger. And I will.”
“On the king?” Alexander shook his head. “William Marshal has spent years keeping that man alive, so you cannot use a dagger on him. You cannot kill him. If you did… the consequences to you and your family would be unfathomable. You would destroy everything your father and uncle have worked so hard for. Do you understand me?”
She looked at him with those pale gray eyes, eyes that could easily bring a man to his knees. Perhaps she knew she had the power; perhaps not. Alexander could feel the power radiating from those eyes as surely as he could breathe air. After a moment, she simply nodded.
“I do,” she said. “But I could not surrender to him, in any case. I would not.”’
Alexander believed her implicitly. “Then that is why you must stay out of his sight,” he said. “We have much to do at the gathering in Norwich and I know you do not wish to be a distraction.”
“Not at all.”
“Good,” he said. Then, it occurred to him that those in the common room would be wondering where he was. He’d been so swept up in the conversation that he’d lost track of time and he quickly stood up. “Forgive me. I have been talking up a storm while you continue to sit in wet clothing. I will take my leave of you now. We will see you on the morrow for another thrilling day of traveling to Norwich. I am purely giddy with the thought.”
His sense of humor was droll, and quite charming, and Christin stood up with a grin on her lips. “As am I,” she said. “More wet roads and rainstorms. I can hardly stand the anticipation.”
Alexander laughed softly. “Then we understand one another.”
“We do. And Sherry?”
He paused by the door. “Aye?”
She scratched her chin nervously. “Since you have given me permission to address you informally, I must reciprocate. Please, call me Christin.”
The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 5