But it made Corisande sneeze.
In fact, that’s what she did the moment she stepped into the solar. A loud, shrill sneeze. Several pairs of eyes turned in her direction, startled, as Alastor came out from behind the table where he had been standing.
He held out his hand to her.
“Ah,” he said, taking her arm gently. “My daughter making an entrance into a chamber as only she is capable. Good men, this is Lady Corisande, whom I have told you of. Cori, please greet our guests.”
Alastor teased her about the sneeze, but Corisande was mortified. Unfortunately, her nose was still itching but she managed to fight it off as her father pulled her towards a group of men. She was blinking her eyes to clear them of the tears that had formed from her sneezing, so she didn’t get a good look at the men until she was nearly standing next to them.
The first thing she realized was that the largest man she had ever seen was positioned directly in front of her.
In fact, she blinked her eyes again, this time because she was startled. Standing in front of the man, at eye level, she was looking at his sternum. Her gaze moved up his body, to his powerful chest and impossibly wide shoulders, to his neck, and finally to his square jaw. He had dark blond hair past his shoulders, and as her gaze moved upward, she could see that he had the crown pulled back and secured behind his head. He had handsome, even features, with arched brows over eyes that could only be called unique.
She’d never seen anything like them.
“Cori, this is Sir Cole de Velt,” her father said, indicating the massive knight. “He is the son of Ajax de Velt of Pelinom Castle, a valued ally.”
Corisande still wasn’t over the sheer size of the man, but she managed to dip into a curtsy. “My lord,” she said. “Welcome to Castle Keld. Had I known you were coming, I would have made sure you were met with refreshments and comfort. I fear I have failed miserably in my duties. Please forgive me.”
The knight was looking at her with those unusual eyes, a golden-brown ringed in a bright green. Coupled with his arched brows, it almost gave him a sinister appearance. As if the Devil himself had come to England and taken human form. Everything about the man seemed to radiate fear and intimidation because of those eyes and, truth be told, Cori was a little intimidated simply looking at him. His gaze was piercing, unnerving.
But he shook his head to her polite statement.
“No apologies are necessary, my lady,” he assured her in a voice that bubbled up from his toes. “We came quite unannounced on business with your father.”
He may have looked like a handsome terror, but the words out of his mouth were polite. And that voice… like molten steel, strong and fluid. Corisande wasn’t sure what to do other than smile timidly at the man when he turned to indicate two knights standing with him.
“These are my men, Sir Addax al-Kort and Sir Essien al-Kort,” he said. “We must impose upon your hospitality for the duration of our visit, but I assure you that we will be no trouble. Anteaus has already told us that we can sleep in the knight’s quarters.”
Corisande looked to the two knights standing with him, noticing immediately that they didn’t look like any pale Englishman she’d ever seen. They were quite handsome, with black hair and dark eyes. She nodded her head at them.
“My lords,” she greeted, her gaze returning to Cole. “You are most welcome at Castle Keld. We do have room in the keep if you wish to stay here.”
Before Cole could reply, Alastor pulled her over to the hearth where a man she had failed to notice was sitting next to the fire, hunched over. He was older, with stringy, gray hair and a grayish cast to his skin.
He didn’t look well.
“See to this man, please,” he told her. “He has not fared well and I need him.”
Corisande’s thoughts moved from the knight with the piercing eyes to the quivering form of humanity in front of her. Concerned, she took a step towards the man and lifted her hand to touch his face to see if he had a fever, but the moment he saw her hand heading in his direction, he lashed out and smacked it away.
“Dunna touch me, Wench,” he hissed. “I’ll no’ have…”
He was cut off when a massive hand suddenly grabbed him by the neck. Startled, Corisande looked up to see Cole as his grip on the man’s neck lifted him straight out of the chair. The man began to kick and gasp, and she instinctively put her hand on Cole’s forearm in an attempt to defuse the situation.
“Please release him,” she said steadily. “I am quite unharmed, truly. He is simply ill and unsteady.”
Cole’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the man, but he did as she asked. He put him back in his chair.
“Strike her again or touch her in any fashion and I will break your arms,” he growled. “Do you understand me, Canmore?”
The man sat there and rubbed his neck, breathing heavily. But he refused to answer and Corisande was a little more assertive about putting herself between the man and that gigantic, and evidently volatile, knight.
She could feel the tension in the air.
“Here, now,” she said gently, reaching out again to touch his face. This time, he didn’t push her away. “No one is going to hurt you. I am here to help you. What is your name?”
He was exhausted and ill, eyeing her with a baleful glare. “Canmore,” he rasped. “’Tis all I’ll tell ye, so dunna ask for more.”
Corisande was fairly accustomed to being around sick people because it was so much of what she did at Castle Keld and the surrounding village. She had a great deal of compassion and a genuine ability to be gentle and kind. It was simply in her nature.
But she also realized that Canmore was here for some unhappy purpose.
She could feel it.
“Canmore,” she said, kneeling in front of the man so that she was looking up at him. “As you have heard, my name is Corisande. I am the chatelaine here at The Keld and part of my duties are to tend to the health and well-being of our visitors. Now, I do not know why you are here, or what your business is with my father, but that is of no matter to me. Clearly, you are ill or injured, and I would like to help you if I can. Will you allow me to?”
Her words were kind and reassuring, throwing Alpin off guard in the slightest. He kept eyeing her, as if unsure what to say, and then his gaze would move over her head, clearly looking at the men standing behind her.
He was as nervous as a cat.
“I… I’m just weary,” he finally said. “Nothing is wrong with me that a meal and drink willna cure. I’m no’ sick.”
Corisande wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she didn’t dispute him. She rose from her knees. “Then I shall make sure food is brought to you,” she said. She turned around to look at the rest of the visitors. “In fact, I shall make sure a meal is prepared for all of you. Would you like to rest before you continue your business with my father? Surely it can wait a few hours.”
Her father opened his mouth to reply, but the door to the solar slammed back on its hinges and Corisande’s two older brothers appeared.
Ares and Atlas de Bourne were men of remarkable courage, talent, and command ability, but they were also bold, aggressive, and lacked sheer human empathy at times. They were quite involved in the politics of the north because Ares was the Sheriff of Westmorland and Atlas assisted him in his duties, leaving Anteaus and their father to command the vast empire of The Keld. The sheriff appointment, in fact, had been from the king because Ares had been heroic in a battle against the Scots a few years earlier. Having proven himself, the king gave him the title and responsibility of keeping law in the north.
But that meant Ares had a sharper temperament than most, dealing with the worst society had to offer sometimes, but he also had a reputation for fairness. No one had ever said Ares de Bourne was unfair or corrupt. His sense of justice and morality were always intact.
But so was his hatred for the Scots. As he stormed into the solar, his attention went immediately to the man in the chair.
&
nbsp; “Is that him?” he demanded, pointing to the Scotsman.
Having left his daughter, Alastor put himself between his enraged son and the Scots prisoner. “It is,” he said evenly. “If you wish to remain while we speak to him, then you may do so. But you will let me do the talking, Ares. Do you understand?”
Ares tore his gaze away from the Scotsman long enough to glare at his father. “He is the one threatening us with a Scots vendetta and I am not allowed to question him?”
Alastor shook his head. “I will do the speaking,” he repeated. “Will you respect my wishes?”
Ares rolled his eyes and turned away, pulling off his helm and ripping off his gloves as Atlas followed suit. He may have been unhappy, but he did as his father asked. He kept his mouth shut. As he and Atlas began putting their things on a table near the door, Alastor returned to his daughter.
“You are no longer required,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”
Corisande had been watching everything very closely. There was something strange going on – three big, unfamiliar knights had brought a beaten Scotsman to The Keld, a man who had her older brothers furious for some reason. Anteaus was the calm one of the bunch and even he didn’t look too pleased.
That had Corisande concerned.
“Papa?” she said as he took her by the arm. “Mayhap I should remain. He does not look well at all.”
Her gaze moved to the Scotsman and Alastor’s focus followed. He looked at the man for a moment before shaking his head and firmly directing her towards the door.
“If I need you, I will send for you,” he said.
“I shall bring food.”
“No food. Not now.”
“But…”
He cut her off as he ushered her out of the door. “No food, but please stay near,” he said. “If I summon you, then I do not want to have to send the servants out to hunt you down. Understood?”
Corisande stood just outside the door, looking at her father and feeling some fear. She didn’t know why, but she did. The man seemed… edgy.
He wasn’t the edgy type.
“As you wish,” she said.
Corisande’s last glimpse into the chamber before her father shut the door was of Cole de Velt, standing over the Scotsman slumped on the chair. For a brief moment, their eyes met and Corisande felt a rush go through her. Something about those unusual eyes made her feel a chill, or quite possibly a thrill.
She wasn’t sure which.
All she knew was that when the man looked at her, she could physically feel it.
And then the door shut in her face.
Puzzled, and the least bit concerned, Corisande lingered by the door for a moment before turning away. In spite of what her father said, she intended to go to the kitchens and make sure a meal was prepared for their visitors. Perhaps a bit of sustenance would put everyone in a better humor.
Or perhaps that grim gathering in the solar was a harbinger of things to come.
CHAPTER FOUR
She was beautiful.
Quite beautiful.
Cole had seen a lot of women in his time. He’d even married a few years ago to a d’Umfraville daughter, whose family was an ally of the House of de Velt. Mary had been her name, a lovely girl with soft, red hair and a bright smile. She’d been a little meek, very obedient, and Cole had been happy with her. They’d even had a daughter, Lucy, who had looked a good deal like Cole’s mother. But a fever had taken them both, within two days of one another, and shortly thereafter Cole was given the directive by William Marshal to spy on the Scottish court.
Cole was certain he’d been given that directive to distract him from his grief.
But that hadn’t worked too well. It had taken time for him to recover, throwing himself into his work, ignoring the pain until it became a dull ache. Then, on a visit home, he’d met Lady Audrie de Longley, daughter of the Earl of Teviot. She was petite and pretty, with golden-red hair and a charming manner, and he’d shown enough interest in her to help him move on after Mary’s death. He hadn’t asked for Audrie’s hand yet, but both families assumed that would come at some point. Even Cole assumed he would do it at some point, but he wasn’t in any hurry.
He wasn’t in any hurry to take on another wife and open himself up to more heartbreak.
Now, he’d just met a woman whose green eyes seemed to throw lightning bolts at him. Every time their gazes met, he felt a jolt. Lady Corisande de Bourne was a serene, elegant beauty with lips like a rosebud and blonde hair that tumbled in voluminous curls down her back. She was seemingly kind and well spoken, a gracious and well-trained young woman that made her family proud. Not that he hadn’t met plenty of women like that, but he’d never had such a reaction to them.
It was most curious.
And perhaps even quite intriguing.
But he couldn’t focus on that now.
“My lord,” he said, lowering his voice as he took Alastor by the arm and led him over into a corner for privacy. “I know we’ve only arrived, and I have not yet had the chance to tell you anything in-depth about my father’s discussion with Canmore, but that is by design.”
Alastor looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I want to see what Alpin Canmore tells you before I fill you in on what he told my father,” he said. “I want to do it now while he’s weary from travel because his exhaustion will make him more vulnerable. May I make a suggestion to you?”
Alastor was listening intently. “Please do.”
Cole turned his back to Alpin and the room completely so that no one could read his lips or even hear him before continuing.
“Get the man drunk,” he muttered. “I’ve seen him when he’s drunk and he becomes one of those men who cannot keep his mouth shut. He’ll argue, scream, laugh, tell stories… all of it when he’s drunk, so if you ply him with ale, I have a suspicion you will learn what you want to know.”
Alastor was intrigued by the suggestion. “Did your father do this?”
Cole shook his head. “My father has his own ways of doing things and getting a man drunk is not one of them,” he said. “He would rather use intimidation than try an easier way. But that is the way of Jax de Velt and the man’s methods are his own.”
Alastor’s eyebrows lifted. “Indeed, they are,” he said. “And they work for him. I would not presume to question The Dark Lord’s methods. But I like your suggestion. Did Canmore say anything on the journey here?”
“Nay,” Cole said. “Not a word. The man had just seen all of his men killed and his home burned, so he was not exactly in a talkative mood.”
Alastor understood. He sent a servant for wine – copious amounts, as he put it – and went to the hearth to throw more peat upon it. The moors of Northumberland and North Yorkshire were full of peat bogs, so there was quite a bit of it. Soon enough, the hearth was flaring with fuel and the chamber began to warm up considerably.
Alastor could see from the corner of his eye that Alpin leaned into the heat, holding out his hands and closing his eyes. At least, he could see the man until Ares and Atlas began to crowd around him and blocked his view.
“Well?” Ares demanded. “What are you waiting for, Papa?”
Alastor eyed his sons. Ares looked much like he did in his youth, big and muscular, but also quite handsome with brown eyes and light brown hair. Ares de Bourne had no shortage of female admirers and as Sheriff of Westmorland, he was quite sought after by rich lords for their eligible daughters. Atlas, on the other hand, looked like his mother’s father – enormous and bald was the best way to describe him. He was more of a follower than a leader, but there was no finer warrior in the land.
Alastor paused a moment before answering.
“I want you two to listen to me carefully,” he said quietly. “Ares, I realize your position in life is bringing justice to the north on a regular basis and you are well aware that I am proud of you for your fair and just judgment, but I will tell you again that I am in contro
l of this situation. It is extraordinarily delicate and has nothing to do with judging a crime or dispensing justice. We are speaking about the potential of a terrible war, so you will allow me to deal with this man in my own way. You will keep silent, both of you, unless I ask for your help or opinion. Do you understand me?”
Ares wasn’t happy; that much was clear. He looked at Atlas, who wasn’t particularly thrilled by their father’s directive, either, but they knew better than to argue. At least, Atlas did. Ares tried and Alastor simply pointed a finger at him, but it was a finger that shut the man’s mouth.
For a moment, anyway.
“Can you at least tell me what you are planning?” Ares hissed in frustration.
Alastor’s gaze drifted over to Canmore, laboring to warm himself after a day and a night of no heat and little food. After a moment, he rubbed his chin, a move that was meant to shield his mouth a little so there was less chance of anyone other than his sons hearing what he had to say.
“That man over there is the one who has been sending missives demanding we side with the Scots and their Northman allies,” he muttered. “According to Cole, Canmore has just seen his castle burned to the ground and his men butchered, courtesy of Ajax de Velt.”
Ares’ brow furrowed. “Is that how he became de Velt’s prisoner?” he said, aghast. “Ajax de Velt declared war on him?”
Alastor nodded. “You were not here when Cole and his men first arrived,” he said. “Cole told me that The Marshal ordered Ajax de Velt to raze Canmore’s castle of Fountainhall and take Canmore a prisoner, and raze it he did. He butchered every man and woman in that castle. The Dark Lord of old was unleashed on the Scots to send a very specific message, lads – that we are aware of their plans and that any attempts to roll into Northumberland will be met with similar force. Ajax was able to glean some information out of him, but now it is my turn. I am going to find out everything I can and in order to do that, I am going to ply a man who has seen little food in the past two days with a goodly amount of drink. I’ve sent a servant for it.”
The Dark Spawn (Battle Lords of de Velt Book 5) Page 7