Deston eyed him as if he didn’t believe him. He still had his hand over his heart. “To think of my daughter, my precious child in danger, is horrifying to say the least,” he said, looking at Ellowyn. But then, he sighed. “I only wish I could have gone myself to London, but unfortunately, I cannot travel these days. The pain… it is too much. I had no choice but to send her.”
Brandt glanced at Ellowyn, his gaze warm. “She is as competent as she is fearless,” he told Deston. “You were wise to send her. She sought me out immediately and we made arrangements to bring your men back to Erith.”
Ellowyn shot him an expression when her father wasn’t looking, wondering why he had concealed the truth of their first meeting so eloquently. Brandt winked at her.
“I have much faith in my daughter,” Deston said, hugging her again so that she grunted because he squeezed too hard. “We are very glad to have her returned. And you also, my lord. Please come inside and we will discuss your business.”
Brandt nodded as he began to loosen his gauntlets. “In a moment,” he said. “I wish to settle my men first.”
Deston understood. He stood politely for a moment until one of his knights caught his attention and he excused himself. Ellowyn collected her satchels from her saddles before a servant led her palfrey away, casually moving next to Brandt as the man focused on his men as they were settled in Erith’s enormous outer bailey. His knights were yelling, animals were braying, and Brandt watched it all like a hawk.
“What business do you have with my father?” she asked.
Brandt didn’t look at her. “I have a question first.”
“What?”
“What is Pickle Snuff?”
Ellowyn rolled her eyes. “It is a nickname, from childhood,” she said. “If you call me that, I shall be furious with you, so you would do well to remember that.”
“I will.”
She eyed him. “Will you answer my question now?” she asked. “What business do you have with my father?”
“That is between Deston and me.”
She wasn’t offended. In fact, since they declared their interest in one another, the mood between them had been pleasant and, at times, sweet, which was made difficult due to the fact that they were traveling with a host of witnesses including Brandt’s very astute knights. Brandt had kept a distance from her most of the time as she rode mostly with St. Hèver or Alex de Lara, but Ellowyn wasn’t particularly distressed by it. When they had been afforded a moment alone, Brandt had explained the need for discretion, at least until he could speak with Deston. She understood completely and she was thrilled. She still felt as if she were living some kind of wonderful and unexpected dream, for never in her life could she have imagined finding interest and affection with the mighty Duke of Exeter.
As she shifted her satchels to one hand, she looked up at him. “You have hardly spoken to me since the incident in Coventry,” she said quietly. “Will you please tell me what you are going to speak to my father about?”
“I told you why I have kept my distance.”
She turned to him fully. “Aye, you have,” she said, her big eyes swallowing him up. “But we are no longer traveling. There are no ears to hear us. Will you please speak with me now or have you changed your mind about me?”
He looked at her, puzzled. “Of course I have not changed my mind.”
“Then you intend to speak to my father about courting me?”
“About marrying you.”
A light of joy came to her eyes. She was trying very hard not to smile. “You are still so certain about it?”
“I am. Are you?”
She giggled. “I am, but only if you will swear you will not keep a distance from me in front of your men once we are married. I do not like not being able to speak with you whenever I please.”
He sighed uneasily, the dark eyes glittering. “You make it seem as if it were easy for me to stay away,” he said softly. “It was not a simple thing, you know. I had to force myself every single minute to keep from rushing to your side.”
She was flirting with him by this time. “How flattering,” she said coyly. “Tell me more.”
He fought off a grin and looked away. “I cannot.”
“Why?”
“Because I will turn into a giddy, silly fool right before your eyes and I do not wish for anyone to see that side of me in public.”
“But I would like to see it.”
“You shall, when we are alone. It is for your eyes only.”
She understood, but she was still flirting with him simply because it was humorous to see a man so big and powerful squirm uncomfortably. It was a fresh, new, and fun game to play between them, and she relished in it. Still, she did not want to be cruel so she mercifully changed the subject.
“I should go into the keep and see my mother now,” she said after a moment. “Will you miss me when I leave?”
“I miss you now.”
Her flirting softened. “As I miss you,” she said. “But we will see each other at sup. Do you intend to speak to my father before or after we eat?”
“As soon as I can.”
He dared to look at her and she smiled, blowing him a discreet kiss. “Good luck,” she whispered. “Until tonight, then.”
Brandt watched her walk across the bailey. In fact, he couldn’t look at anything else. Her shapely back and luscious hair had his full attention. She had a way of moving that was fluid and lovely, and he had never been so entranced with anyone in his life. The kiss they had shared a few days ago was still as fresh and heated in his mind as if it had only just happened. It made his heart light simply to watch her, in a way it had never been light before. Whatever magic Ellowyn had, he was fully under her spell.
“Until tonight, sweetheart,” he whispered to himself as he watched her go.
He made a vow at that moment that he was never, ever going to force himself to stay away from her again. From this day forward, they were joined at the hip.
He sincerely hoped Deston saw things his way.
*
Ellowyn’s mother, the Lady Annalora de Gare de Nerra, was a tall and elegant woman with blond hair and her daughter’s big green eyes. Personality-wise, she was much like her husband with loud laughter and a rather pushy manner, but she had a heart of gold and was much loved and respected. When she saw her daughter in the hall of Erith, speaking with her grandmother, Annalora rushed the woman and nearly knocked her over in her joy. She hugged Ellowyn within an inch of her life.
“Wynny,” she sighed, squeezing. “You are home. Are you well, darling? Did the trip go well?”
Ellowyn didn’t mind being hugged by her mother because she had a much softer touch than Deston. She hugged her mother in return and kissed the woman on the cheek.
“It went very well,” she said. “In fact, it was wonderful.”
Annalora kissed her daughter on the forehead, smoothing her hair as she sat down on the bench beside her. In fact, the woman couldn’t keep her hands off her daughter, touching her shoulder, her arm, her back, as if to reassure herself that her child was well and whole.
“Wonderful?” Annalora repeated. “In what way?”
Ellowyn shrugged, though there was a faint grin on her face. She glanced at her grandmother, sitting across the table from her. The Lady Gray Serroux de Nerra gazed steadily at her granddaughter.
“I am not entirely sure why Wynny’s trip was so wonderful,” she said. “She was about to tell me but we cannot get past the smile.”
Ellowyn lowered her head, grinning broadly. “It was a good trip,” she repeated, rather softly. “I returned with most of Papa’s men, and I also returned with the Duke of Exeter and his fine knights.”
That brought a reaction from Gray and Annalora. “The Duke of Exeter?” Annalora repeated. “I had no idea he had arrived with you. We must make all due preparations for his arrival.”
With that, she began snapping orders to the servants who had been milling about the g
reat hall. Annalora sent them scurrying with her specific commands for food, drink, and fresh rushes. When half of the staff was in an uproar because of the arrival of the duke, Annalora returned her attention to her daughter.
“This is so exciting,” she said. “Rarely do we have such distinguished visitors.”
Gray, an elegant, sweet and wise woman in her seventieth year, watched her granddaughter’s face. She could see there was something more there, something thrilling and giddy, although she wasn’t sure what. Perhaps one of the knights in the duke’s corps had attracted her attention. Coming from a young woman who generally had no use for the suitors that had passed over their doorstep, it was certainly an event.
“Annalora,” Gray said in her sweet, soothing voice. “Perhaps you should seek Deston and find out how many men we can expect for the meal. We want to have enough for them to eat.”
Annalora nodded quickly. “Indeed,” she said as she stood up. “I shall find him right away.”
Ellowyn watched her mother go. “He was out in the ward last I saw of him.”
Annalora waved her off as she quit the great hall. When Ellowyn returned her attention to her grandmother, she could see that the woman was studying her intently.
“Now,” Gray said softly. “Why are you so giddy, young woman? Tell me the truth.”
Ellowyn couldn’t help the smile on her face. She stood up and went to the other side of the table where her grandmother sat, and she planted herself next to the woman. Gray put her arms around her, hugging her.
“You will not believe me,” Ellowyn said, her head on her grandmother’s shoulder.
Gray smiled. “Tell me and I shall believe you, I promise. Who has put this smile on your face, Wynny?”
Ellowyn giggled. She never giggled. “The duke,” she whispered.
Gray couldn’t help it, her eyebrows lifted with surprise. “The duke?”
“Aye.”
Gray released her granddaughter and looked the woman in the eye. “De Russe?”
Ellowyn nodded, somewhat hesitantly because her grandmother seemed off-guard and she wasn’t sure why. “Aye,” she said again. “I am not entirely sure how it happened, but we went from hating one another to being rather fond of each other. He is going to speak to my father about marrying me.”
Gray just stared at her. Then, her amber eyes took on a marvelous glimmer. “He wants to marry you?” she gasped. “Wynny, that… that is wonderful, sweetheart, truly.”
Ellowyn was beaming from ear to ear. “He is not like anyone I have ever met,” she said. “He was rude when we first met, that was true, but as we came to know each other, he is chivalrous and thoughtful and kind. But life has not been good to him. He was raised by nuns, his mother did not care about him at all, and then he was forced to marry a woman he hated. Is that not terrible?”
Gray was listening with some surprise. She had never seen her mature and level-headed granddaughter so passionate. It was astonishing but thrilling nonetheless.
“Horrible,” she agreed. “But it is not unusual. Families such as ours are rare.”
Ellowyn nodded, averting her gaze and picking at her nails. “I realize that,” she said. “I suppose it has made me very thankful for my family and the way we are. I have told you this before, Grandmother. I know how you and Grandfather were with each other and I have always hoped for that, too. Perhaps… perhaps I see the same qualities Grandfather had in the duke. I realize I have not known him very long, but I have such feelings when I look at him. He is a good man in spite of his reputation. I know it.”
“Of course he is,” Gray agreed, listening to Annalora’s loud voice as the woman came through the keep entry. “But until the duke speaks with your father, perhaps you should keep this to yourself. The last thing you want is your mother running to the man and….”
Ellowyn knew exactly what she meant. She knew how aggressive, though well-meaning, her mother could be. The woman’s voice was growing louder as she bossed the servants around.
“I understand,” she said, wriggling her eyebrows. “She would give the man no peace.”
Gray fought off a smile as Annalora drew closer, her fair face pinched pink with excitement.
“Your father is escorting the duke into the keep,” she said excitedly. “God’s Beard, but he is an enormous man. I have heard tale about him and how he is the Black Prince’s henchman. I would believe him evil simply by looking at him.”
“He is not evil!” Ellowyn said indignantly, bolting to her feet. When she saw the expression on her mother and grandmother’s faces, she hastened to recover. “He… he was very kind and diligently protected me during the journey from London. I… I would like to change into fresh clothing. Please excuse me.”
With that, she nearly stumbled from the table, making haste to the great flight of stairs that wound its way to the upper floors of Erith’s four-storied keep. But before she could reach it, her father and Brandt entered the keep and Ellowyn nearly ran into them. In fact, Brandt had to reach out and steady her to keep her from bumping into him.
“My lady,” he said, making a conscious effort to drop his hand from her arm when he very much wanted to keep it there. “Are you well?”
Ellowyn gazed up into his handsome face, now without his helm. He was so incredibly handsome with his angled jaw and black hair. Her heart was fluttering wildly.
“I am well,” she said, forcing a weak smile. “I am simply going up to my chamber.”
“Bon voyage, then,” Brandt said, humor in his voice. “Now you will finally have a solid room about you and not a tent.”
Ellowyn’s smile turned real. “I did not mind the tent.”
There was a glimmer in her eye when she said it, something only Brandt could see. And then she was gone, scampering up the stairs and disappearing from view. Brandt’s gaze lingered on her until she vanished before tearing his focus away. He knew Deston had seen the exchange so he hastened to sound as if he had shown concern purely for chivalrous reasons. He didn’t want the man to suspect anything more, at least, not until he was ready to plead his case.
“Your daughter showed remarkable strength throughout the journey,” he told the man as he began to pull off his gauntlets. “She never complained once.”
Deston stood there with his hands on his hips, watching Brant remove his gloves and the ruff around his neck that soaked up sweat and protected his neck from his chaffing helm. It was a soiled and bloody mess.
“Ellowyn is a good girl,” he agreed. “She is strong of mind and heart, but I would imagine you have already discovered that for yourself.”
Brandt looked at the man, wondering if he meant beyond the usual acquaintance. Maybe it was his paranoia suggesting it as he gazed at the man whose daughter he was in love with, but he thought perhaps Deston was only making a statement and nothing more. Still, he was careful in his reply.
“She is a proud daughter of the House of de Nerra,” he replied. “And how is your son?”
Deston’s prideful expression faded. “Being holy, I suppose,” he said, heading into the great hall with Brandt in tow. “We have not spoken in almost two years. He has taken a vow of silence, you know. It is an unnatural thing for a de Nerra to be silent.”
Brandt could see that the man was genuinely unhappy, which he found rather humorous. As they approached the table, the women who had been seated stood up, their polite attention on Brandt. He bowed respectfully when he came to the table.
“Lady de Nerra,” he said to Annalora, whom he had already greeted out in the ward. His attention moved to the second woman. “Lady Gray, it is a pleasure to see you again. It has been a long time.”
Gray came out from the table, extending her hand when she came close to Brandt. He took her small hand in his enormous one, shaking it gently.
“Brandt de Russe,” she said softly, her amber eyes twinkling up at him. “Except for the fact that you are bigger and older, you’ve not changed a bit since we last met.”
Brandt grinned, displaying his big white teeth. “And you have grown more lovely,” he replied. “I can see where your granddaughter gets her astonishing beauty.”
Gray laughed softly. “Did they teach you such flattery on the battlefields of France? Somehow, I do not think so.”
He took her hand and gently helped her to sit on the bench around the table. “I learned many things on the battlefields of France, but flattery was not among them,” he said as he sat down next to her. “I missed your husband there, my lady. Braxton was one of my mentors, you know. I miss his wisdom as well as his sword.”
Gray’s eyes were still glimmering. “He did so enjoy fighting with you,” she said softly. “He said there was no one like you. He swore you were the first and last of your kind, the greatest knight he had ever seen.”
“He was a liar, too.”
Gray giggled. “He was no such thing, my lord,” she scolded lightly. “He always told the truth. That is, he did until he became ill. Then, by the time he told us the truth, it was too late. I do not believe I shall forgive him for that.”
Brandt’s gaze was soft as he took her hand and kissed it. “How many years has it been now? Six?”
“Six years, two months, three weeks and seventeen days,” Gray replied softly. “He is buried at St. John’s in Levens if you want to go and yell at him, by the way.”
“I miss him.”
“As do I.”
Brandt gave her a faint smile. Not wanting the conversation to deteriorate into something heady on the subject of Braxton de Nerra’s passing, he shifted the subject.
“Well,” he said, turning to Deston and Annalora, now seated on the opposite side of the table. “I suppose you would like a full report of my use of your men, my lord.”
Deston waved him off. “I wish to hear more of this battle with the Welsh that nearly killed my daughter.”
Brandt thought back to the fight and the fact that Ellowyn had indeed been in a good deal of peril. But he didn’t want to frighten the family over something that was over with, so he did his best to be truthful yet tactful.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 85