Shadowmoor (de Lohr Dynasty #6) (5 page)

Sky-blue eyes were gazing back at her.

The biggest man she had ever seen had hold of her. Liselotte’s eyes widened at the sight. With saddlebags and sword slung over one shoulder, he was dressed in layers of wool and mail, with enormous gloves on his hands. He was very tall, with very broad shoulders, and his chin-length wet hair had a hint of the blond color beneath the damp. With his square jaw and long nose, he looked like a Viking god she’d once heard of in a myth. And those eyes… those starry eyes of brilliant blue… looked back at her with some curiosity.

Dare she say it…
even with interest?

It was a moment Liselotte would remember for the rest of her life, as if the gloom had been pulled away and suddenly, glory was filling her vision. There was no other way to describe it.

“Forgive me, my lady,” the man said in a deep, rather booming voice. “I should not have been so clumsy in opening the door. In my haste to get out of the rain, I fear I may have injured you.”

Liselotte was actually dumbstruck. All of Shadowmoor was cursed with colorless, plain men and now, in their midst, came a shining star unlike anything she had ever seen. Was she actually dreaming this encounter? Had she gone mad? She seriously wondered.

“You did not,” she said, noticing that his big gloved hand was still holding her steady. “I… I am Liselotte, Etzel’s daughter. My father is Lord of Shadowmoor. Who are you?”

The man smiled, big dimples carving into his cheeks when he did so. “Sir Daniel de Lohr at your service, Lady Liselotte,” he said. Then, his gaze turned appraising. “So you’re the one.”

“The one
what?
”

“The one who would drive men to do bold and reckless things. Now, I understand.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, knowing he meant it as flattery and wholly unpracticed in accepting such honors.

“Understand?” she repeated. She thought she sounded rather silly, as if she were stammering. “What do you mean, my lord?”

Daniel let go of her arm and stepped into the hall, closing the heavy door behind him. He faced her, his eyes glimmering in the weak light. “I understand that you are the fairest maiden in all of Yorkshire,” he said. “No wonder that fool Bramley would go to such lengths to demand your hand. Now, I understand his motivation completely. You are exquisite.”

Liselotte seriously thought her face might burst into flame. She was utterly off guard with his kind words and she lowered her gaze, having no idea what to say to the man. As she cleared her throat softly and scratched her head nervously, Daniel spoke.

“I have said too much,” he said quietly, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Forgive me. I did not mean to offend. But when I entered this hall, I did not expect to see someone of your beauty. It is, indeed, a privilege, my lady.”

Liselotte couldn’t help the silly grin that was slowly taking over her expression. “You did not offend me,” she said. “But I will admit it has been a very long time since I have heard such praise.”

Daniel’s eyebrows lifted. “Why?” he asked. “Are you surrounded by blind men?”

She laughed, giddy, and he followed suit. In fact, it was quite an unexpectedly enchanting moment. Having no idea how to react to the man’s flagrant charms, Liselotte simply turned away from him, indicating the hall with its three scrubbed feasting tables.

“Will you please sit, my lord?” she asked. “My father says you are to be our guest of honor tonight. I am not sure that providing you with a meal is entirely suitable for the man who saved my brother, but rest assured that we will provide you with the best that we can. You honor us.”

Daniel gladly followed her as she crossed the floor towards the tables. He never took his eyes from her. “The honor is mine,” he said smoothly. Then, he shrugged. “Truthfully, it all happened so fast. One moment, I was seeking shelter from the storm and in the next, your brother was throwing himself at me. It all happened quite by chance.”

Liselotte was listening closely. “God must have had a hand in it,” she said seriously. “My father has been praying constantly for a miracle since Gunnar’s abduction. It would seem that God sent you to our aid.”

Daniel wasn’t a big believer in God, or the hand of the heavenly host for that matter, but he didn’t say anything to that regard. He simply smiled.

“Then I am happy to be of service,” he said.

Liselotte returned his smile, a gesture that didn’t come easy to her. She had never been the giddy or smiling sort, but Daniel seemed to bring it out in her. In just the few short seconds they had known one another, she had smiled more than she probably had in months. Daniel seemed to have that easiness and that joy about him, a manner that was infectious.

“And we are very grateful,” she said, indicating for him to take a seat by the fire and dry off. “Will you sit and warm yourself? The weather is quite horrendous.”

Daniel looked at the fire, feeling the warmth of it pulling at him. “Quite,” he agreed. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lady.”

As he moved towards the fire, Liselotte moved in front of him, quickly pulling forth a stool for him to sit and he smiled his thanks. She smiled in return, her gaze moving from his face to the sheer size of the man as he set his saddlebags and sword to the floor. More than that, he was dressed quite finely. She’d never seen such finery, on any man, indicating he was someone with some means. Her curiosity grew.

“You are welcome,” she said. “May… may I ask where you were going on your travels? I do hope your kindness towards my brother has not interrupted your plans too much.”

Daniel shook his head as he pulled off his heavy gloves and began untying the neck of his sopping cloak. “Nothing was interrupted, I assure you,” he said, removing the cloak and laying it across the stool to dry. “I was traveling north to visit friends, but they can wait. Saving a child is more important.”

Liselotte liked his answer. She also noticed that he was now fumbling with his tunic belt, or girdle, a wide leather strip that encircled his narrow waist. It seemed he was having trouble with the buckles due to his cold fingers and she indicated the girdle.

“May I help you with that?” she asked.

He nodded and lifted his arms when she rushed at him, deftly pulling at the buckle on the belt. “Thank you, my lady,” he said. “I fear my fingers are the least bit frozen. Navigating the buckle is difficult.”

Liselotte could see that. In fact, in her haste to help him, she was quite close to him and her heart began to do strange things in her chest. Flutter…
thump
… and giddiness swamped her. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that left her quite breathless, and she was actually coming to think that something might be wrong with her. Was she becoming ill?

Or was she simply too close to a man who set her heart to racing?

With quivering hands, she pulled the girdle off of him and set it aside, standing back to see if there was anything else she could help him with. She was eager to be of service, eager to be close to him, and having no idea why the man should make her feel as if she couldn’t catch her breath. But she really didn’t care.

She rather liked it.

The tunic that the girdle had belted was loose now, and quite wet, and Daniel bent over and tried to pull it off but because it was wet, it was sticking to him, and he had it halfway off when it became stuck. Liselotte rushed to his rescue yet again, pulling off the tunic and finding a place on the stones to put it near the fire so that it would dry. Beneath the tunic, however, Daniel had a heavy mail coat on and it was as wet as everything else, making it more than heavy and quite cumbersome. He tried to shake it out a bit, water droplets falling on the floor.

“I see you are quite adept at removing clothing,” he told her, a glimmer of jest in his eye. “But I assure you the mail coat will not go easily. It will fight you all the way as you try to remove it and then laugh at your failure. Are you prepared for the battle, my lady?”

Liselotte sensed his humor. It was very endearing. “I am, my lord,” she said, pretending to be serious. “I shall prevail.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am, my lord.”

“Then let us commence.”

With a grin, he bent over and began to shake the mail, which was beginning to seize up in spots, a prelude to rusting. Liselotte had never removed a mail coat in her life but it seemed logical to take it by the arms and she did, tugging as Daniel twisted his body in a way that suggested he had done this many times before. Liselotte was able to get one arm of the mail coat off of him when a booming voice echoed across the hall.

“God’s Bones, Leese!” Etzel had just come up from the underground vault to see his daughter wrestling with the knight. “Get away from that, girl! That is a man’s task!”

Liselotte stepped back as her father jumped in and began to tug and pull, managing to yank the mail off. It was a very heavy coat and Etzel immediately called for servants, producing two men who had been bringing in wood for the fire. Etzel instructed the pair to dry off the mail and scrub it down so it would not rust, which brought words of appreciation from Daniel.

“You speak like a man who has known a coat of mail or two,” he said as the servants took his mail away. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Etzel indicated for Daniel to sit near the fire now that he was stripped down to his sweaty, dirty under-tunic, and leather breeches. “In days long past, I was a knight myself,” he said. “I suppose I still am, but that was a long time ago.”

Daniel took the offered seat, acutely aware that Liselotte was moving to sit across the table from him. He was pleased, as it would make it easier to look at the woman. And he intended to do a lot of looking.

“I cannot believe it was too long ago,” Daniel said. “You are not that old.”

Etzel smiled weakly. “You are kind, my lord,” he said. “I am old enough. Old enough to remember the days of prosperity at Shadowmoor. Old enough to… well, it does not matter. Let us speak on you; I do not even know your name.”

Daniel glanced at Liselotte as he answered. He simply wanted to look upon her again, as if he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. When their eyes met, she smiled and his heart jumped, just a little.

An interesting reaction from a man who thought he was immune to such things.

“As I told your daughter, my name is Sir Daniel de Lohr,” he said. “I was traveling north to visit friends when I happened across your son. Now, you will tell me who this Lord Bramley is and why he is so intent to marry your daughter that he would abduct your son to gain his way.”

The warm expression on Etzel’s face faded. “It has been the situation with us for such a long time that it is difficult to remember the times before this crisis,” he said. “I suppose I should start from the beginning. The House of l’Audacieux is a direct descendant from the last great ruler of the kingdom of Elmet, a man by the name of Ceretic. Ceretic was a great king and many generations of great rulers descended from him including my great-grandfather several times over, a man by the name of Rombald, who was the last of the great line before the Normans invaded. The Normans rather liked Rombald, it seemed, and gave him the name Rombald l’Audacieux – or, Rombald the Bold. All of the land from Cross Hills to the north, Bradford to the south, and Ilkley to the east was granted to Rombald by the Normans because Rombald knew the land and was very capable of keeping peace for the Normans. Under his guidance, his people were obedient to the Normans and Rombald was able to keep most of his lands intact because of it.”

Daniel was listening with interest. “I see,” he said. “And these lands still belong to you?”

Etzel nodded. “Indeed, they do,” he said, his expression hardening. “And there was prosperity for all until the advent of Lord Bramley.”

Daniel shook his head in disgust. “I knew he figured into this somehow,” he said. “What is the issue with the man?”

Etzel reached over to collect the cups that had been left out on the table, moving to open the earthenware jug of ale he had brought up from the vault. He uncorked the top, with its mud seal, and began to pour.

“
Everything
is the issue, my lord,” he said. “Bramley is a nephew of the king and he was given a small plot of land and a small castle to the southwest, Bramley Castle, about four years ago. Immediately, he started harassing my villages and sending his men to steal from the peasants. Because Shadowmoor had lived in peace for so long, our army was long gone and only citizens, remnants of the kingdom of Elmet, still live here. We have not had need for armed men for decades because the Normans always provided what we needed. But that ended some time ago and there was no hardship about it until Lord Bramley came. The truth is that he wants Shadowmoor and my lands for himself and he wants to marry my daughter to claim them. He is trying everything he can to drive us to starvation so he can claim the fortress.”

Daniel rubbed his chin unhappily. “Have you written to the king about this?” he asked. “Surely Henry can do something.”

Etzel sighed heavily. “I have tried to send men with a missive,” he said. “But Bramley watches all of the roads from Shadowmoor. He has intercepted everything I have tried to send. He has many men at his disposal while I have few. Shadowmoor is supposed to collect tariffs from the roads leading south, as is our hereditary right, but Bramley now takes those for his own. He killed one of my men who tried to stop him. He even burns any crops we can manage to plant during the planting months or he otherwise destroys them. He has made living quite difficult but that is his intention. He is trying to drive us out.”

Daniel frowned. He wasn’t keen on tyrants in any form and since he’d had his own run-in with Lord Bramley, he could easily see what Etzel was explaining. Roland Fitzroy, Lord Bramley, definitely seemed the type.

“But why does he want it so badly?” Daniel asked. “No offense, my lord, but this place does not look like much worth having.”

Etzel wasn’t hard pressed to agree. “It is nothing regal, I admit,” he said. “But there is a forest to the north that is part of my lands and it is rich in hunting. There are also water rights that supply villages south of us, including Leeds, plus six villages whose taxes I used to glean as income. The truth is that these were once-great lands but Lord Bramley has managed to ruin them. My people starve and we scrape by a meager existence.”