Archangel (2 page)

Gart stared at the lad a moment before finally shaking his head. Truth be told, he was fighting off a grin.  The lad was deadly serious.

“Who are you?” he finally asked.

The boy stood tall. “Romney de Moyon,” he announced. “These are my brothers, Orin and Brendt. Our father is Julian de Moyon, Baron Buckland, and this is our castle.  Who are you?”

Gart came down the rest of the stairs and stood in front of them, massive fists resting on his hips. He avoided the question. “Why do you have white powder all over you?”

Romney looked at his brothers before returning his attention to Gart. “Because we are ghosts. You cannot see ghosts and it makes it easier to rob people.”

Gart rubbed his hand over his chin and mouth so the boy would not see his grin. It was really quite dastardly and very humorous, he thought.

 “I see you quite clearly,” he ran a finger across Romney’s chest, peering at the white powder. “What is this?”

“Dust from the stone,” Romney told him. “Father is building house for the soldiers and this is the dust from the white stone.”

Gart inspected it a moment longer before wiping it on his tunic.  His gaze moved to the youngest, who was no longer crying but still rubbing his head.

“Had you not attacked me, you would not have hurt your head,” he was looking at the smallest boy but lecturing all three. “Does your father know what you are doing?”

Romney lifted his shoulders, for the first time losing some of his confidence. “He does not care,” he said. “Will you give me your money or will I have to fight you to the death?”

Gart bit his lip to keep his smile from breaking loose. “Are you sure you want to fight me to the death?”

“I am sure.”

“I do not have any money on me.”

Romney’s fair brow furrowed and he looked to his brothers with uncertainty. “Well,” he said reluctantly. “We will wait until you return for it.  Come back with your money.”

“I will not,” Gart said flatly.  “Why do you want my money, anyway?”

“Because,” Romney said. “We want to buy nice things for my mother and sister.”

Gart scratched his head. “Your mother and sister?” he repeated. “Surely they have enough nice things.”

Romney shrugged. “It makes them happy.  When Mother is crying, it will make her stop.”

Gart scratched at his chin again, a little puzzled at the last sentence but he didn’t pursue it.

“I see,” he said. “I am afraid that I am going to disappoint you, your mother and your sister. You will have to get your ill gotten gains somewhere else.”

Romney didn’t like that answer at all. It was clear he wasn’t used to having his wishes denied. Gart eyed the children one more time before turning for the stairs and the three were on him in an instant with their fists and sticks. Gart rolled his eyes with frustration as he grabbed Romney by the arm and twisted it behind his back.  Romney screamed and the other two lads stopped their onslaught.

“Oww!” Romney howled. “You are hurting me!”

Gart lifted an eyebrow. “I am getting tired of being attacked simply because I walked in to this keep,” he said in a low voice.  “If you promise to cease your assault, I will let you go. Otherwise, I will bind all three of you and toss you into a closet.”

Before the boy could reply, they heard a voice from the floor above.  It was a female voice, soft and sweet, and soon the swish of a voluminous surcoat could be seen and heard.  Great yards of crimson fabric descended the stairs, calling for Romney and Orin.  As Gart stood there with Romney’s arm twisted behind his back, a vision in red appeared.

“Romney!” the woman gasped. “What has happened? Are you injured?”

Gart stared at the woman in surprise, although his stone-like features did not give him away.  He was actually stunned speechless for a moment as a vision from his past made an unexpected appearance. Although it had been years since had had last seen her, there was no mistaking the ethereal beauty. There wasn’t anything like it anywhere else in England.

“Emberley?”he asked hesitantly. “Emberley de Russe?”

The Lady Emberley de Russe de Moyon came to a halt when she heard her name, staring at the enormous knight with shock and some fear.  He had her son by the arm and the child was in obvious pain, but as she gazed at the man, he began to look vaguely familiar.

 From the mists of her memories emerged the face as a very young man, someone her brother had been friends with.  She had known that face well, long ago. Now he had grown into a strikingly handsome man.  Her deep blue eyes lit up with recognition.

“Gart?” she asked.

Her voice was soft with uncertainty.  Gart’s green eyes glittered as he nodded his head, realizing he still had Romney by the arm and hastening to release the child. He tried not to feel guilty that this glorious creature had witnessed him roughing up the child.

“It is me,” he just stared at her, a rather soft expression coming over his masculine features. “I have not seen you in years.”

Emberley smiled broadly, a dimple on her chin and beautiful straight teeth. “It has been some time,” she agreed. “I believe the last time I saw you was when I had just returned home from fostering at Chepstow Castle and you and my brother were newly knighted.”

He nodded. “I recall,” he said. “That was many years ago.”

She warmed to the recognition. “Twelve years, at least,” she agreed, cocking her head thoughtfully. “I also seem to remember that on the day I returned you and my brother tore through the outer ward on your chargers, slicing up anything that did not have a heartbeat.  My mother yelled at you and my brother for an hour after it was over.”

Gart was grinning, an unusual occurrence for him. The man had features of stone and cracking a smile was something that did not come easily. He was trying not to appear too embarrassed.

“We could not help ourselves,” he admitted. “Erik had a new sword that your father had given him. We want to make sure that it worked properly.”

Emberley laughed in remembrance. “My mother took it away for a week,” she snorted. “Erik and my father were furious.”

Gart’s smile grew as he stared at the woman; his last memory of her was a slip of a girl barely past womanhood but to see her now, he could hardly believe the change.  She was positively magnificent. His eyes moved over her luscious blond hair, arranged into a beautiful style that had it pulled off her face and trailing down her back. She had spectacular dark blue eyes, like sapphires, and ruby lips that were parted in a magnificent smile. The longer he looked at her, the more enamored he became.

“I was banned from visiting Morton Castle for awhile,” he said, wanting off the subject of his wild youth. “But that was long ago and now I find you at Dunster. Why are you here?”

Emberley lifted her hand as if to embrace the entire structure. “I live here,” she replied. “You and my brother were in the Holy Land with Richard when I was betrothed to Julian de Moyon. Did you not hear of it?”

He shook his head. “I will confess, I did not,” he said, somewhat regretfully. “My focus was on sand and battles until... well, until Erik was killed. Then I returned home to more battles and more intrigue.”

Her smile faded, her dark blue eyes glimmering warmly at him. “I heard that you brought my brother home for burial,” she said softly. “I never had the chance to thank you.  It meant a great deal to my parents.”

“Do they live still?”

She nodded. “Still,” she said quietly. “They live at Morton Castle and have never gotten over the death of my brother. The fact that I have sons has eased their grief somewhat. At least my children will inherit what Erik should have.”

Gart gazed into her lovely eyes, the same color and shape as her brother’s had been.  He realized he missed his best friend very much, someone he’d not thought of in almost eight years.  It was a sobering realization.

“Erik was a great knight,” he said somberly. “He is missed.”

Emberley smiled in agreement, in sympathy, knowing that her brother and Gabriel Forbes had been best friends since childhood. In fact, she had practically grown up knowing Forbes, a man known as Gart because he didn’t like to be called Gabriel. To see him now brought her a great deal of emotional comfort in a life that knew little. 

He was an enormous man, very tall, with a muscular body and long, muscular legs.  He had sculpted cheekbones and a square jaw, and murky green eyes that were mysterious and intense.  His hair, a dark shade of dark blond, had been practically shaved from his scalp but it did not detract from his virile male handsomeness. The man was powerfully and painfully handsome.

Truth be told, Emberley had always been fond of Gart. As a young girl, she would dream of marrying him.  But those days were long gone, as were her dreams.  As she thought on the faded days of her childhood, she glanced at her boys and realized they were covered in white powder.  Her brow furrowed.

“Why are my children dusty white?” she pointed at them.

Gart tore his eyes off her to look at the boys.  “These are your children?”

She nodded. “Romney is my eldest,” she smiled at the boy with pride. “He is an intelligent lad, sweet and loving.  Orin is my middle son and Brendt is the youngest. Boys, why are you covered in white powder?”

She addressed her sons, who had a complete change of demeanor since her arrival and were now innocent little angels.

“We were playing, Mama,” Orin insisted. “We were ghosts.”

Emberley’s delicate eyebrows lifted. “Ghosts? Why on earth are you ghosts?”

Romney took charge of the conversation before Orin blew their cover. “Because,” he said simply, hoping that would be enough to satisfy his mother. “Mama, can we eat in the hall tonight? I want to see all of the knights!”

Emberley shook her head. “Nay,” she told him. “You must eat in your chamber. Your father has business to attend to and does not want you underfoot.” She looked at Gart. “Am I to understand that you have met my sons already?”    

Gart wasn’t sure how to answer.  He looked at the boys, who all gazed back at him quite innocently.   He didn’t believe it for a moment. In fact, he was resisting the urge to scowl at them with disbelief.

“Aye,” he said slowly, reluctantly. “I have just arrived and the boys were… that is to say, they were….”

“Mama,” Romney latched on to his mother’s arm. “We were going to show Sir Gart to the hall. May we do that, Mama? May we, please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Emberley smiled at her eldest. “That is quite gracious of you.”

Gart eyed the boys suspiciously as the youngest one reached out and took his big hand. “We will show you, Sir Gart,” he said politely. “Come with us.”

Gart didn’t want to pull away from the child because he didn’t want to offend Emberley.   He stood there dumbly as the boy took his hand and Emberley smiled happily.

“’Tis so good to see you again, Gart,” she said sincerely, her dark blue gaze drifting over his handsome features. “It has been a very long time.  Much has happened since you and I last saw one another. I would like to know what you have been doing in the twelve years since I last saw you.”

Gart could only nod.  Realizing she was the baron’s wife dampened his enthusiasm at their re-acquaintance and he was coming to think that he had been very, very stupid as a young man not to have realized her potential. True, she’d always been a lovely girl, but had he known she would have grown into such an exquisite creature, he might have vied for her hand. But that thought was tempered by the fact that she had apparently raised three hooligans who had her completely fooled.  The woman was raising a pack of wild animals.