The Falls of Erith (22 page)

Braxton
did not acknowledge the man as Gray smiled weakly in response. They continued
on towards the camp in silence, though Gray kept stealing side-long glances at
him. He was distant and cold.

“Are
you angry with me?” she asked softly.

He
looked at her. “For what?”

“For
speaking with that knight?”

He
shook his head. “I am to blame. I should have told you where I was going so
that you would not go looking for me.”

She
was on to him. “But you did not tell me so that I would not stop you from
spoiling Brooke as I’d asked you not to.”

He
refused to look at her, but a smile broke through.  “That is beside the point.
The issue is that it is not safe for you to wander outside of my protection.
Men like de Aughton can be less than chivalrous to a lone lady.”

“Really?”
she turned to look at the spot where they had left Niclas; he was predictably
gone. “He did not seem threatening.”

“He
was not; at least, not at that moment. But he has interest in you.”

“Me?”
she seemed genuinely puzzled.  “Why do you say that?”

He
looked at her as if she was a simpleton. “He asked if you were married, Gray.
It does not require great intellect to figure out that he was inquiring for his
own interest.”

She
continued to peer at him, studying his expression. It occurred to her that she
had never had two men interested in her at one time; at least, not like this. 
It was an oddly proud and humbling awareness. But something more occurred to
her as she gazed at Braxton.

“You
are jealous?” It was a statement more than a question.

They
had reached the great fire where the pig sizzled and spit over the open flame.
He turned to her.

“Call
it what you will. You belong to me and I would have every man in England know
it.”

She
smiled at him, her amber eyes reflecting the dancing firelight. “You needn’t
worry, Braxton,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t even dream of looking at another
man.”

His
icy stance broke somewhat. “Is that so?”

“It
is.”

“Then
I have your attention.”

“You
have all of it and more.”

The
harsh manner faded completely and his smile broke through. “To be honest, I was
not sure. You are a beautiful woman, after all, and I am….”

He
didn’t finish and she lifted an eyebrow. “You are… what?”

He
lifted his big shoulders. “I simply meant that there are better prospects out there
than me.”

She
shook her head. “Not to me there isn’t. You are more than I could have dreamed
of.”

It
was a sweet moment.  He took her hand and kissed it in full view of the
youngsters.  Brooke and the boys pretended not to notice, still stuffing their
faces with bread, though Brooke was understandably curious. It was the first
time she had ever seen her mother smile like that.  She was glad her mother was
distracted, as it would make her forget that Brooke had, once again, coerced
treats from Braxton.  Moreover, Braxton seemed to have a way of dealing with
her mother that made the woman forget everything else.  Even at her young age,
Brooke could see that.

Gray
and Braxton disappeared into the tent where Geoff lay, leaving the others by
the fire. The pig continued to steam and smoke into the night, filling the air
with a delicious smell. By the time it was finished, everyone was ravenous and
the animal came apart in big pieces.  Brooke and Edgar ate until they were sick
and Gray found herself tending not only an injured knight but a nauseous
daughter.

In
the distant camp, obsidian eyes continued to watch the crimson glow of the de
Nerra tents as outlined by the great campfire. Pensive thoughts became decisive
ones.  He’d seen the lady earlier in the day when he’d nearly run her down on
the street. He had been struck by her beauty even though she was clearly in the
company of a knight he later found out to be Braxton de Nerra. 

At
the tournament, he had seen her sitting in the stands, a radiant bit of loveliness
surrounded by the dregs of society. He would have asked for her favor had de
Nerra not hovered around her like an over eager school boy. It was obvious that
she was de Nerra’s woman, though he could not be sure if they were married.  He
suspected that they were not. That morsel of information was the one piece he
had been looking for. If she wasn’t married, then there was still a chance.
Even if it did risk the wrath of de Nerra.

Niclas
was not an evil man. He was not manipulative or ruthless, at least not in the
matters of men and women. But he had always been a man who got what he wanted,
and tonight he knew exactly what he wanted.

CHAPTER
TEN

“Braxton,
do you see the banners? Who do they belong to?”

The
morning was soft with dew, bright with new sun. The question came from Gray,
seated on the wagon as the party returning from Milnthorpe drew close to
Erith.  Braxton was on his charger riding beside the wagon, his blue-green eyes
riveted to the scraps of blue banner he could see just inside the portcullis.
He did not recognize the colors at a distance.

“I
do not know,” he said. “More suitors for your daughter, I would presume.”

Gray
didn’t like the sound of that, though there could be no other explanation.
“What will you do?”

He
was very calm, very casual. “Send them away, of course.”

Gray
didn’t say anymore, though her gaze lingered on his strong face. His expression
was unreadable.  Rightly assuming they could do nothing until they knew who it
was, she turned her attention back to Geoff lying in the bed of the wagon.

The
injured knight was sleeping again, lulled by the rocking of the wagon.
Surprisingly, he had awoken before dawn feeling better and without fever. Gray
took it as a good sign and the party packed up for Erith. She wanted to get him
back to the fortress and into a proper bed so that he could more readily heal. 
He’s wasn’t out of danger by a long shot and she was anxious to return home.

Geoff
wasn’t alone in the wagon. Edgar and Brooke sat at the very rear, their legs
hanging over the back of the flatbed.  There had not been a harsh word between
then all morning, even when Brooke produced the bag of candied fruits that
Braxton had bought for her the night before. She shared it with Edgar, making
sure that Braxton and her mother saw her.  She even shared it with Norman, who
rode beside the wagon astride Geoff’s charger.  With the children all getting
along, it made the ride back to Erith much more pleasant. But Gray kept
shooting looks at her daughter, making sure the girl was behaving.

“Leave
her alone,” Braxton’s voice was soft beside Gray.

She
turned to him. “What do you mean?”

He
looked at her, a smile on his lips. “You know exactly what I mean. She’s
behaving quite nicely. She needs your trust in her ability to amend her manners,
not your constant scrutiny.”

She
lifted an eyebrow at him, though it was not an unkind gesture. “You know so
much about children now, do you? Since when did you become an expert?”

He
looked straight ahead. “I know everything,” he said seriously.

She
laughed. “I believe that you do.”

He
cast her a sidelong glance, grinning while she laughed at him.  The ride back
to Erith had been filled with little glances and smiles from them both and
Braxton was fairly certain that he’d never in his life experienced such joy.
Had anyone suggested to him a week ago that his life would have taken such a
dramatic turn, he would have laughed at them. But turn it had.

 As
they continued to gaze coyly at each other, Erith loomed closer and the
sentries on the repaired wall announced the approach of the party. They could
hear the shouts echoing as other soldiers took up the call.  Braxton broke away
from Gray’s sweet face and spurred his charger into a canter, loping the big
beast under the portcullis and into the ward beyond.  He wanted to see for
himself who had arrived and he did not want to wait.

The
first thing he saw were a few strange soldiers standing in a group near the
keep. The horses near them wore blue and white standards. But a glance around
the ward showed a heavy concentration of unknown soldiers near the northeast
corner of the keep. There were at least a hundred. Uneasiness swept him. 
Braxton rode up to the small group collected near the keep.

“Who
do you serve?” he demanded.

The
men looked at him, a mixture of suspicion and defiance on their faces. “Roger
de Clare,” one of them said. “Who are you?”

Braxton’s
mood changed instantaneously.  He had gone from mildly curiously and
confidently unconcerned to deeply uneasy all in one split second.   His
blue-green eyes swept the keeping, knowing de Clare was somewhere within the
walls.  Without answering their question, he reined his charger sharply back in
the direction he came. He ran into the approaching party just as they
approached the portcullis.

He
flicked two thick fingers in Dallas and Graehm’s direction, motioning for them
to attend him. He, in fact, rode straight for Gray, still seated on the wagon
bench beside the driver. Her amber eyes studied him expectantly as he and the
other two knights rode up beside her.

“Well?”
she asked before he could speak. “Who is it?”

Braxton
wasn’t quite sure how to tell her. There was no easy way. “Roger de Clare,” he
said. He couldn’t help the sharp, helpless sigh that escaped his mouth. “It
would see that your mother has called forth the Devil himself, Gray.”

She
stared at him for a moment as the news, and implication, settled. Then her eyes
widened. “De Clare?” she repeated, stunned. “But… he’s Gloucester. Gloucester
is here?”

Before
Braxton could reply, Graehm piped up. “Gloucester is here?” he sounded like a
dumbfounded lad.

Braxton
gave Graehm an intolerant look. He didn’t need one of his knights acting the
giddy fool when he had a serious issue on his hands. “Aye, the cousin of the
earl is here,” he said, somewhat sharply, before returning his attention to
Gray. “He’s not brought a big party with him and I did not see any knights, but
we must handle this very carefully, my lady. You know that. The relationship
between the de Montforts and the de Clares is tenuous at best.”

She
nodded, still astonished at the news.  “What shall we do?”

Braxton
shook his head, thinking aloud. “Is it possible that your mother sent
invitation to Roger de Clare for Brooke’s hand? My God, the man has to be
beyond sixty years. Moreover, he is already married with children, or at least
he used to be married. Is it possible his wife is dead, then?”

He
was talking to himself more than he was talking to her. But they should have
realized that Brooke would hear them. She was still perched on the wagon bed
with her legs hanging over, listening to every word.

“He
has male children,” Brooke said casually, as if it was nothing at all to be
concerned over. “Grandmother said he has many fine sons.”

Now
that the secret of her grandmother’s deeds were out, she was apparently very
comfortable discussing what she knew. Gray, Braxton and the two knights were
looking at her, a mélange of trepidation and displeasure on their faces. 
Braxton seemed the least emotional out of the bunch, his expression holding
mostly steady.

“Then
it must be for one of the sons,” he lowered his voice as he spoke to Gray. “But
I would be lying if I said his presence did not concern me.”

“Why?”

He
lifted an eyebrow. “Because your mother has promised suitors Erith along with
Brooke’s hand. Erith belongs to me and I have the document to prove it.
Gloucester might not take the news so easily, especially if he is attempting to
mend the ties his cousin destroyed. We do not need Gloucester coming down
around our ears.”  His mind began to work quickly, trying to think of a way out
of or around this.  His eyes fell on Dallas, the quiet knight. He was young,
strong, and powerful, the second son of Baron Lisvane, vassal of the Earl of
Cornwall.  Though Dallas would not inherit his father’s title or baronetcy, he
would inherit a small parcel of property from his mother.  An idea began to
form.  Braxton was going to undo what that old woman was trying to do if it was
the last thing he ever did.

 “Dallas,”
he motioned to his knight. “A word, please.”

Dallas
obediently followed him to a resting point several feet away where they paused
a moment, chatting quietly astride their snorting chargers.  After a few
exchanged sentences, Dallas’ eyes widened.  Though he did not raise his voice
or show obvious emotion, it was clear by his expression that he was shocked. 
Braxton’s expression was quite calm as he finished speaking, watching Dallas
wrestle with whatever subject was occurring between them. Gray watched
curiously as Dallas, still visibly uncomfortable, finally nodded his head. 
Braxton abruptly reined his horse away from him, emitting a piercing whistle
between his teeth. The entire party came to an abrupt halt, wagon and all.