The Falls of Erith (38 page)

And
then there was Brooke; since the day she had chased Edgar out onto the main
road, there hadn’t been a harsh word between her and the young squire.  In
fact, she had nearly stopped paying attention to him altogether because her
focus was fully on her new husband.  She had always been rather careful with
her appearance, at least as careful as their meager surroundings would allow,
but now she was positively intense about how she looked.  Dallas would praise
her for the way she arranged her hair or the loveliness of her eyes, which only
seemed to make her more conscious of how she looked.  It was evident that she
wanted to please her husband, and please she did.  In spite of any reservation
Dallas might have had in the beginning, he was completely smitten with the
lovely young lady.  The beautiful wild rose was becoming a gorgeous, cultivated
one.

During
this time of building and romance, there were other things going on as well.;
Geoff, for instance, was healing admirably from his brush with death and was
trying his best to resume a normal routine.  Braxton hadn’t gone so far as to
order Geoff to remain in bed but he had spent a good deal of time trying to
reason with him.  Geoff managed to stay down for another day and night before
rising early one morning and making his way, however slowly, to the inner
bailey.  Braxton knew that there was no keeping the man down, so he gave him a
job supervising the rebuild of the inner portcullis, the one so badly damaged
by Garber’s trebuchet practice.  Geoff supervised the builders, making him feel
useful without actually exerting himself.

Gray
was also on the mend from her run-in with her mother and as the days passed,
she watched Brooke transform from a silly young girl into a responsible young
woman.  They hadn’t spoken of the day when Constance had been forcibly escorted
from the keep and, as time passed and their new lives unfolded, it was easier
to forget about the vicious old lady and get on with their lives.

Even
now as Gray sat in the great hall after the morning meal, she watched Brooke
rush around to make sure the nooning meal was in full preparation. It took
foresight and thought, which Brooke was trying very hard to do. Even the keep
itself was transforming under her hand and Braxton’s money. As a mother, Gray
found herself moved by the sight of her daughter growing up and thanking God
that Constance was no longer around to poison her. They were happier than they
had ever been.

As
Gray sat and watched Brooke direct some servants to clear out the stale rushes,
big arms suddenly embraced her from behind.  Braxton gently enfolded his wife
into his arms, kissing the side of her head and being mindful of her sore
ribs.  Gray smiled, placing a warm palm against his stubbled cheek as he kissed
her.

“Greetings,
wife,” he purred into her ear, kissing her again. “I am pleased to see that you
are learning to be a lady of leisure.”

She
gestured at Brooke, helping one of the old servants with a particularly large
branch. “I was watching my daughter,” she said. Then she sighed. “My little
girl seems to have grown up all in the past few days and I am not quite sure
how I feel about it.”

He
sat down on the bench next to her, holding her close and watching Brooke move
about quite capably.

“Odd,”
he said softly. “I have been thinking the same thing about Dallas. I have known
the man since he was twenty years and one, when he was newly knighted, and
although he has always proven himself extremely capable and responsible, our
lovely young daughter has done something to him. He’s a changed man.”

Gray
turned to look at him, her amber eyes soft. “
Our
daughter?”

His
blue-green eyes twinkled. “She belongs to me, as do you,” he whispered, kissing
her cheek. “She was mine the moment I married you.”

She
smiled at him, touching his handsome face. “You are as compassionate as you are
generous. There are not many men who would happily accept two destitute women.”

“They
are fools.”

She
laughed softly and kissed him, to which he readily responded.  When he pulled
away, it was to cup her face in his enormous hands and study her fine features
intently.

“I
have been thinking something else along those lines,” he murmured.

“What
is that?”

“I
would like to make Brooke and Dallas my heirs.”

Gray
nodded in serious consideration. “Although I do not question your judgment,
would you not want for a child born of your blood to be your heir?”

He
shrugged. “I do not have any children of my blood.”

“Not
yet,” she smiled when he looked rather surprised at her. “I am not beyond my
childbearing years, Braxton. It is entirely possible that you and I will be
blessed in the future.”

He
just stared at her. “Although I have always hoped…,” he trailed off, not sure
what to say. “The thought of bearing another child does not distress you?”

Her
smile broadened. “Of course not. Why should it?”

He
half-shrugged, half-scratched his head, suddenly looking nervous. “You had
Brooke at such a young age,” he stumbled through his words. “You are now… well,
were very young then.”

“Aye,
I was,” she laughed softly. “’Tis well enough for you to mention my current
age. It does not offend me. I am not exactly a young woman anymore, but I am
certainly not too old to bear a child.”

He
snorted, relieved that she wasn’t offended by what could have been slander
against her age. “Nay, you are not.”

“But
I am not getting any younger. Perhaps we should make all due haste to conceive
a child quickly so I do not die of old age before your son is born.”

He
gazed at her, his hands moving to her face again. There were a thousand
unspoken words that he could not seem to bring to his lips; it seemed as if
each day with the woman brought about greater pleasure and surprise. He could
hardly believe this side of life existed, one where he was wildly content and
with everything he had ever wanted. After a moment, he simply shook his head.

“We
have not yet known each other a full month,” he murmured. “Speaking of children
seems so premature, so… aggressive. I did not marry you in order that you
should bear me a child right away.”

“I
know,” her smile remained. “I brought it up, after all.  Every man wants a son
and it would be my deepest honor to bear yours.”

 He
was truly speechless for a moment. “A son would be the greatest gift, madam,”
he finally said, sincerely. “Yet I am already the most blessed man in England.”

“Why
do you say that?”

He
kissed her. “Because I have you.”

Gray
smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her head on his shoulder.
It was a sweet moment broken up by Brooke as she suddenly appeared with a broom
in her hand.  She thumped the end of the broom on the floor to get the
attention of the cuddling adults.

“Sir
Braxton?” she asked crisply. “May I ask you something?”

Braxton
looked at her as Gray unwound her arms from his neck. “You may,” he said. “But
first, I must tell you something.”

“What?”

“Do
not call me Sir Braxton.”

Brooke
cocked her head. “What should I call you?”

“I
am your mother’s husband,” he informed her of the obvious, “and, I might
mention, your new father. You do not need to be so formal with me.”

Brooke
grinned, a charming smirk that emphasized the dimple in her left cheek. “Shall I
call you Dada, then?”

Braxton
gave one short, big guffaw that set both Brooke and Gray to giggling. “You
cheeky girl,” he rumbled, lifting an eyebrow at Brooke. “Call me whatever you
wish but do not call me Sir Braxton ever again.”

Brooke
was still snorting; she leaned down and pecked Braxton on the cheek. “As you
command, Dada,” she said lightly. “Now, may I ask my question?”

She
was taunting him; he could see it. But he was also quite charmed by it and
pleased that she felt comfortable enough with him to show some affection. After
their tumultuous beginning, he wondered if they would ever reach that state.

 “Very
well,” he sighed. “What is it?”

“Would
it be too much trouble to procure a few more servants for the keep?” she asked.
“What I mean is that our servants are very old. It is difficult for them to do
the amount of work that is now required with all of the people living in the
keep. I believe we need some strong, young peasants to help us.”

“Brooke,”
Gray shook her head admonishingly, but Braxton stopped her.  He looked as if he
was seriously considering her request.

“What
would you suggest, Lady Aston?” he asked her.

Brooke
cocked her head thoughtfully, leaning on the broom. “We need at least two
strong men to help in the kitchens and in the hall. It is too much work for the
women with all of the additional people we now have eating and living in the
keep,” she replied.  “I believe we also need at least two or three more women
to help out. There is much to do around here and not enough people to do it.
Why, I myself must sweep the floor because everyone else is busy.”

She
suddenly shook the broom at him. Gray was moving to her feet in outrage but
Braxton stood up with her, putting his arm around his wife and giving her a
good squeeze to silence her; Brooke was now lady of the keep and must be given
that confidence and control. 

“I
will see what I can do,” he assured Brooke patiently. “For now, I will have one
of my men do the sweeping. You do not need to do it.”

“Oh,
good heavens,” Gray rolled her eyes and yanked the broom from her daughter’s
grip. “This conversation is ridiculous. Give me that broom and I shall do the
sweeping.”

Braxton
snatched the broom from her and held it out of her reach. “Nay, Lady de Nerra,
you will not,” he moved away from her as she swiped at the broom, trying to
snatch it from him.  He made haste towards the door with Gray following. “Go
away from me, woman. You cannot have the broom.”

Brooke
was laughing uproariously as Gray went after Braxton and he made every effort
to stay out of her way. He was too big, fast and agile for her but Gray wasn’t
make a very strong attempt; her ribs were still sore so she finally surrendered
as he gave her a flashy grin and darted out of the front door.  Gray stood
there with a smirk of her face, shaking her head, as Brooke came up beside her.

“He
is funny,” she turned to her mother. “Do you really think he is going to find
someone to sweep?”

Gray
gazed at her daughter, tucking a stray piece of blond hair behind her ear.
“Aye, I believe he is going to find someone to sweep,” she winked at her child.
“Returned to your duties, sweetheart. You are doing a marvelous job.”

Brooke
flashed a happy grin, thrilled with her mother’s approval. “What are you going
to do now?”

Gray
sighed, her amber gaze lingering on the bailey beyond the door in the hope that
she might catch a glimpse of her husband with the broom. “Rest, I suppose,” she
said. “There isn’t anything for me to do and I feel rather useless.”

Brooke’s
smile faded. “You are not useless, mama. Braxton simply doesn’t want you to
work. This is my keep now and I should be doing all of the work, anyway.”

Gray
smiled faintly at her daughter, stroking the young woman’s blond head before
moving to the stairs.  Just as she did so, Dallas suddenly came bolting through
the keep door with the broom in his hand.  He smiled sweetly at his wife,
completely ignorant of the fact that his mother-in-law was standing on the
stairs just to his left. He had eyes only for Brooke.

“Greetings,
Lady Aston,” he said jovially. “I have come to sweep your floor.”

Brooke
blushed furiously as Gray chuckled. “Is this the type of strong, young help you
had in mind, Brooke?” she asked.

Brooke’s
gaze moved between her mother and her husband. “Well… aye, I suppose,” she was
growing increasingly embarrassed. She focused on her husband. “You do not have
to sweep the floor. I can do it. I thought Braxton was going to have one of his
soldiers do it.”

Dallas
winked at her. “I
am
one of his soldiers,” he said, glancing over at
Gray on the stairs. “Good morning to you, Lady de Nerra. ‘Tis a fine day.”

He
was far too cheerful, more so that Gray had ever seen him. The serious young
knight had sprouted a lively personality and bright grin in the past few days.
She repressed the urge to laugh at his giddiness which she could only assume
had been brought on by the appearance of his wife. It was sweet and hilarious. 
She smiled at the young knight as she continued her trek up the steps.

“Aye,
it is,” she replied. “Enjoy sweeping the floor.”

Dallas
watched the beautiful woman disappear up the stairs before turning to his wife.
She gazed up at him adoringly with her luminous blue eyes.

“You
really do not have to sweep,” she said quietly. “I can do it just as well.”

His
smile grew warm. “But I want to do it. It gives me an excuse to be close to
you.”