The Falls of Erith (27 page)

“You
must be very tired,” he said in a quiet, deep voice. 

She
nodded, still looking at her feet. “I... I am, a little.”

“Perhaps
we should retire.”

Woodenly,
she headed for the tent. Dallas followed.  He reached over her head to shove
the flap out of the way and she froze when she entered; Norman and Edgar were
finishing laying out the bedrolls. An oil lamp sat on the ground, burning
brightly in the black of the tent. The boys looked up at her, uncomfortable
emotions in their eyes as they gazed at her, but just as quickly lowered their
heads and vacated the tent.  Brooke swallowed hard as the shelter cleared,
leaving her standing there with Dallas, still in the doorway.

“My
lady?” Dallas urged her gently inside.

Brooke
took a few strained steps into the tent, startled when Dallas let the tent flap
fall shut.  He was quiet as he removed pieces of his armor, down to his
hauberk.  She just stood there, unmoving and uncertain. Then he turned to her.

“My
lady,” he said. “Would you be so good as to help me?”

She
eyed him with hesitation but obediently went to him. “What would you have me
do, my lord?”

He
bent over and extended his arms to her. “Pull on the mail.”

She
grabbed hold, timidly at first, but then got a good grip on it and yanked. She
almost pulled his head off and he pitched forward against her.  He grabbed her
so he would not topple her over, still restrained by his half-removed hauberk. 
Brooke took hold again and pulled and pulled.  Because he was sweaty, the mail
seemed to want to stick to him and to his padded shirt beneath.  She only
managed to remove one arm and was still struggling with the other when she
heard a low rumble.

She
paused, wondering where the sound was coming from. It took her a moment to
realize that Dallas was laughing.

Brooke
dipped her head so she could look him in the face; because of the placement of
the hauberk, he couldn’t lift his head.  “What’s so funny?”

He
was giggling like a fool.  “I am not sure,” he gasped. “But the more you pull,
the more twisted I become.”

In
spite of herself, Brooke grinned and gave another yank. The hauberk got stuck
around his ears, covering his face. Dallas only laughed harder and Brooke’s
grin broadened.

“What
should I do?” she demanded. “You are stuck.”

He
snorted and snickered. “Just keep pulling,” he told her.

She
did. Eventually, the piece came off, but not before it almost ripped his ears
off.  Brooke fell back with the weight of it when it finally came free, falling
on her arse as she did so. But it was very humorous. When she fell on the
ground, she laughed uproariously.  Dallas stood there with his hands on his
hips, looking down at her.

“You
are going to have to become much more adept at helping me dress or I shall have
my ears ripped off every time,” he scolded with a grin on his face.

She
shrugged, trying to get back up. He pulled on her arm and set her on her feet.

“This
is my first experience with removing armor,” she told him.

“I
can tell.”

She
tossed the hauberk back at him and he deftly caught it. “I haven’t had years of
practice like you have.”

Laughter
fading, he threw the hauberk to the ground with the rest of his armor. “You
will from now on, I promise.”

He
went about removing what was left of his leg armor. Levity waning, Brooke felt
her trepidation rise once again as she watched him.  She had many questions and
many fears, and she knew that he was the only one who could satisfy them.  She
summoned her courage.

“Sir
Dallas?”

He
looked at her. “I am your husband, my lady. You do not have to address me as
‘Sir’.”

She
cocked her head.  “And I am your wife. You do not have to address me as ‘my
lady’.”

The
corners of his mouth twitched. “True enough.”

“But
it seems strange to call each other by our names so informally, doesn’t it? We
hardly know each other.”

His
smile grew. “It does indeed. We will do whatever you are comfortable with.”

It
was a kind statement. Brooke was comforted by it somewhat. He didn’t seem pushy
or assertive of his new role. Her courage grew.

“Maybe
we should talk and get to know one another,” she suggested.

He
sat down on one of the bedrolls. Without his armor and clad only in his
breeches and padded linen undershirt, he appeared far less imposing.  He gazed
up at Brooke and she studied him as if just seeing him for the first time; he
had a nice, square jaw and a handsome face.  His eyes were deep blue, like a
lake on a warm summer day, and his long blond hair dusted the tops of his
shoulders. It was very attractive hair, she thought to herself.
He
was
attractive.

“An
excellent suggestion,” he said. “What would you like to know?”

The
focus was back on her. Hesitantly, she sat opposite him on the other bedroll.
“Well,” she said slowly. “Where were you born?”

“At
my family’s home in Cornwall,” he said. “My father is Baron Lisvane, a title he
inherited from his father.”

“Do
you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I
have an older brother. His name is Ferris.”

“Is
he a knight?”

“Aye,
and a good one.”

She
thought of more questions. “Where did you learn to become a knight?”

“At
Okehampton Castle in Dorset. I spent twelve years there before receiving my
spurs. Then I swore allegiance to Sir Braxton and have been with him ever
since.”

She
cocked her head. “Why did you not swear allegiance to a big house or to the
king? Why do you serve Sir Braxton as a soldier of fortune?”

He
smiled faintly. “Because I must make my own fortune, my lady. My brother will
inherit my father’s lands and title upon his death. What I am to inherit comes
from my mother’s side and it is not a tremendous amount. I must therefore make
my own way. Sir Braxton has provided me with that opportunity.”

“Oh.”
She nodded in understanding, having run out of questions for the moment. But
she did think of one more. “Then why did you agree to marry me? I don’t have
anything of value to offer you. Shouldn’t you have married for money?”

Dallas
held an even expression; he didn’t want to tell her the truth, that Braxton had
very nearly forced him into the marriage with promise of a very large dowry,
Erith Castle and the Kentmere title.  He didn’t think that would be a very good
way to start off their marriage, though it was the truth. Judging from her
youth and immaturity, he didn’t think she would take it very well.

“I
think that you do,” he said ambiguously. “You come from a fine family and I
think this will be an agreeable marriage for us both.”

He
shifted on the bedroll and she leapt to her feet, her eyes wide with fright.
Dallas had no idea what had startled her until he realized he had inadvertently
moved closer to her. 

“Sorry,”
he moved back to his original position. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

“You
did not,” she lied, but looking in his eyes, she realized that he was very
aware of her fright.  “’Tis just that I…”

He
patted the bedroll beside him. “Come, lady wife. You must get some sleep. We
have an early day ahead of us.”

She
stood there, watching him remove his boots.  Her face began to flush as the
moment she had been dreading was fast approaching.  She felt embarrassed,
terrified, and curious all at the same time.  But Dallas lay back on his
bedroll, quite primly, and folded his hands across his chest. He looked up at
her.

“Is
something wrong?” he asked. “Do you require something?”

She
stood there and twisted her hands. “Nothing is wrong,” she lied for the second
time, very timidly kneeling down on the bedroll.  Though he was at least an
arm’s length away from her, he might as well have been lying on top of her for
all of the dread she was feeling.  But she managed to lie down, fully clothed,
and pulled part of a blanket on top of her. Dallas suddenly sat up and flipped
the rest of the blanket on top of her, covering her feet.  Brooke yelped with
fright, preparing to leap up again, but Dallas put his hands on her and shoved
her back down.

“You’ll
never get any sleep if you keep jumping up every time I move,” his voice was
low. When she opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. “Listen to me and be
done with this foolishness. I have no intention of claiming my husbandly rights
tonight, so you can rest your mind. Now, will you go to sleep?”

She
gazed up at him, the blanket pulled up around her neck. “You… you do not want
to…?”

He
shook his head. “If I did, I would have to take it by force and that is not the
manner in which I wish to start out this marriage.”

She
was calming with amazing speed. “But… but it is your right.  My mother said I
should be obedient and do what you tell me.”

He
almost laughed. “And do you plan to listen to her?”

She
nodded emphatically but when he lifted an eyebrow at her, her enthusiasm waned.
“I will listen to you but I would like for you to listen to me, too.”

“Very
well,” he propped himself up on an elbow, gazing down into her sweet face.
“What would you like to say?”

She
blinked; what
did
she want to say? “I.. I should like to say that Sir
Braxton and my mother tell me you are a fine man and that I am thankful that
you are a fine man and do you at least want to kiss me?”

It
all came out as one rapid-fire sentence. He couldn’t help it; he burst into
laughter. Brooke sat up, frowning.

“Why
are you laughing at me?” she demanded.

His
blue eyes twinkled. “Because I find you humorous,” his laughter faded. “And
very pretty.”

Her
cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

She
looked uncertain again and lay back down.  Dallas watched her for a moment as
she pulled the blanket up to her neck again. Then he leaned over her, very
close to her face. He was surprised she didn’t bolt again.

“Yes,
I would at least like to kiss my wife on the eve of our wedding,” his voice was
low and deep.  “May I have your permission?”

Brooke’s
heart was thumping wildly against her ribs as she gazed up into his strong
face. She was positive he could hear it.  Maybe having him close wasn’t such a
horrible idea.

“Aye,”
she managed to stammer.

Dallas
lowered his lips to hers, slowly as not to startle her.  When their mouths
touched, it was a magical moment.  She was soft and warm and sweet. He kissed
her gently, his lips gently suckling hers. He kissed her longer than he had
intended simply because she was so delicious.  He pulled away before he lost
his control, his deep blue eyes lingering on her.

“Good
night, Lady Aston.”

Brooke’s
head was swimming.  She was stunned, overwhelmed.

“Good
night.”

Dallas
blew out the light. Brooke lay there for an indeterminate amount of time,
listening to the sounds of the night outside the tent, feeling strangely warm
and safe. She’d never felt anything like it.  Suddenly, Dallas’ hand was on her
arm, a gentle yet inherently protective gesture.  He had a big hand, strong and
warm. She liked it.

Brooke
fell asleep with her fingers touching his.

***

“Gray,”
Braxton’s voice was a soft growl. “Come lay down, love. Come away from the
door.”

But
Gray couldn’t. She was standing in the tent flap of the larger tent, her eyes
on the small tent in the distance.  Her amber eyes were full of unshed tears
when she finally managed to pull herself away.

“She’s
so young,” she said as she made her way over to the pallet that Braxton had
fashioned for them. It was about as far away from Geoff as they could get
without actually leaving the tent. “I am afraid that she will.…”

“How
old were you when you married Garber?”

She
eyed him. “Fourteen years old.”

“And
your daughter is fifteen years old. She is no longer a child.”

“But
she is still very young.”

Braxton
reached out and grabbed her when she came close enough. He pulled her onto his
lap as he sat on the pallet and his big arms went around her.

“You
worry overly,” he told her, nuzzling her shoulder. “Dallas will not be unkind.
Besides, she is his wife now. You must not interfere.”

She
gazed at him, the blue-green eyes that were now the center of her world. She
smiled weakly, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing her nose against
his.

“I
have every right to interfere,” she told him lightly. “I am his wife’s mother,
after all. And you are his liege.”

He
groaned. “God, you are not going to be meddlesome, are you?”