The Iron Knight (The De Russe Legacy Book 3) (9 page)

But that was not his choice.

Now, the reality of his own betrothed, a gift from the king, had arrived at Spelthorne. Briefly, he considered turning around and fleeing with Sophina and Emmaline. He really did. He didn’t want to marry a child bride he knew nothing about. He didn’t want to return to Spelthorne where a hopeless and dark existence waited for him. He didn’t want to go back there, back to darkness. He wanted to wander the roads forever, carrying on a light and delicious conversation with a beautiful woman and watching her sweet daughter chase her ferret about. That was what he wanted. Such a brief, shining moment of delight in a life that had been void of such things.

Now, reality had hit him.

He couldn’t run.

“Very well,” he grumbled. “One of you return to Spelthorne and tell de Royans I am on my way. You will also seek the majordomo and tell him that I am bringing two guests and they are to be made as comfortable as possible. Additionally, tell de Royans to have twenty men assembled, heavily armed, and prepared to ride out with me immediately upon my return.”

The men were nodding eagerly. “Aye, my lord,” the one man said. “De Royans will want to know where you are riding to.”

Lucien threw a thumb in the direction of Sophina and Emmaline. “These ladies were set upon by bandits,” he said. “We must retrieve their belongings, which are at the bottom of a lake, before the bandits can get to them. In fact, you’d better have forty men prepared to ride. This may be a big task.”

The first man nodded smartly and snapped his fingers at his companion, who reined his horse about and took off for Spelthorne. But the first man remained, glancing at the women behind Lucien.

“Can I be of further assistance, my lord?” he asked. “I can take the girl with me on my horse and we can make haste back to Spelthorne.”

It made sense. They were still about a half-mile out and it might be better for the ladies to tuck them safely away in the bosom of Spelthorne, the sooner the better. But that would mean the end of the two most blissful hours of Lucien’s life. Still, it would be better for the ladies to get them to safety and food and dry clothing. With a faint sigh, he nodded.

“Aye,” he replied. Then, he turned and held out a hand to Emmaline. “Young lady, this is Ranulf Gray. He has served me for many years and is a competent and trustworthy man. He will return you to Spelthorne while your mother and I follow.”

Emmaline was reluctant. She looked up at her mother, who smiled and nodded, before placing her hand in Lucien’s. Lucien then led her over to the soldier’s horse and easily lifted her into the saddle. Both he and the soldier waited until she was settled before the soldier leapt on behind her. He put an arm around her and the wriggling ferret, gathered his reins, and then took off back towards Spelthorne.

Meanwhile, Lucien had made his way back to Sophina. Without a word, he mounted the horse, sitting behind her, but so close that she was sitting on his lap. It was the first time Lucien had gotten particularly close to her and, immediately, he knew it had been a mistake. She was soft and warm in his arms and he could feel her tender buttocks on his lap, which caused immediate arousal.

But he fought it. Sweet Jesus, did he fight it. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in years and his reaction was instantaneous. This luscious, beautiful woman with the dark red hair had his entire body on fire, so much so that his hands were beginning to shake. He tried to cover it, gathering his reins and spurring Storm after the soldier and Emmaline, but he was quite certain Sophina could feel him tremble. He was sure of it. Trouble was, he wasn’t sorry in the least. He liked the feeling.

Sophina’s trip back to Spelthorne was considerably slower than her daughter’s.

CHAPTER THREE

S
unset over the
vibrant summer landscape was sweet and warm, with gentle breezes blowing up from the south, carrying the scent of the sea along with them.

All around Spelthorne, the inhabitants were preparing for the coming night. As the sky overhead bled colors of dark blue, purple, pink, and orange, men on the walls of the castle were lighting torches and feeding the dogs, dogs that patrolled the walls and perimeter of the fortress. Night sentries came on duty as day sentries surrendered their posts. With the walls secured, the hustle and bustle of the castle continued in the bailey below.

The doors of the great hall were open and servants went about their duties. Soldiers looking for an early meal wandered in and out. Unlike many halls, the floor of the great hall was made from great wooden planks, held in place by massive joists over a vast storage area below. The wooden floor made for a great deal of noise as people moved in and out. Straw thrown about the floor to absorb spills and hold in some heat helped with the sound, but not enough. The hall could be a loud place at any given time.

A vaulted roof crowned the great chamber and small windows all around the top of the ceiling allowed smoke from the two enormous hearths to escape. There were three massive feasting tables, each one of them seating at least fifty people, plus there was enough standing room in the hall for a few hundred more. It was an expansive place because here, Lucien held court on the last Friday of every month. The tables were moved aside and he sat at the end of the room, with his scribe and several armed men, hearing cases from his fiefdom and deciding justice.

It was all part of his duties as Sheriff of Cranborne, a position given to him by Henry about ten years before when the rebellions against Henry’s reign were in full swing. Henry needed men loyal to him stationed throughout the country, and Lucien held parts of Wilshire and a good chunk of Dorset secure for the king. Much power came with his title, power that Lucien, so far, had used wisely.

Sophina had heard all of this from a very talkative servant. In her borrowed chamber on the top floor of Spelthorne’s enormous keep, a chatty woman with bad teeth and thick, bristly hair had brought food and drink, and much conversation. She also brought two oversized robes, both of them evidently made for a man, while taking the lake-smelling clothing from the ladies to wash out.

Those had been Lucien’s instructions and the servant was more than willing to tell Sophina that Lord Tytherington had made it clear that the lady and her daughter, as his guests, were to have everything they needed to make their stay comfortable. Sophina was very touched by Lucien’s hospitality, kindness she was unused to, so when asking for hot water to wash her body with, she had been rather timid. She didn’t want to seem demanding. The servant, however, was most apologetic, explaining that someone named Lady Juno had use of the tub at the moment. That didn’t mean much to Sophina, who had no idea who Juno was, and she insisted that any hot water and soap would be most welcome. With that request, the servant fled.

Once the servant was gone, both Sophina and Emmaline put on the heavy, dry robes that were left for them. The garments were most definitely made for a man because not only were they huge, they were very long and smelled of wood of some kind. Sophina thought it might have been cedar, a precious and aromatic wood, and that perhaps the robes had come from a chest made out of such wood. She had seen such chests, luxuries though they were. In any case, it was lovely to be dry as they waited for the Spelthorne servants to wash their clothing.

Climbing onto the rather small but very comfortable bed in the chamber, Emmaline snuggled down with Oswald, who had been slithering around the bed, and promptly fell asleep, exhausted from her busy day, as Sophina watched the world outside of the window. Their chamber overlooked part of the bailey and most of the stables, and the smell of hay and horses drifted in on the wind now and again. Down below, she could see men moving about in the course of their duties, soldiers on the wall, and dogs running through the bailey, barking. There was actually a good deal to see and she was quite interested in her surroundings.

But what she was really looking for was Lucien.

Truth be told, she had been very sorry to be separated from him once they’d reached the bailey of Spelthorne. He’d dismounted his horse and pulled her down after him, his hands lingering on her perhaps a bit longer than they should have. Or was that her imagination? Certainly a man as great and prestigious as Lucien de Russe wouldn’t be interested in her. She had already established that. But she was still dreaming that such a thing might be possible.

Sophina had been struggling against her attraction to Lucien since nearly the beginning of their association but, now, she found she couldn’t rail against it at all. Lucien had her attention, which was unfortunate considering she was due to meet the man her father wanted her to marry. She tried not to give in to the disappointment that thought provoked. For the moment, she was here at Spelthorne and, for the moment, she would give in to her little fantasies about Lucien de Russe. Until the time came where she was passed on to du Ponte, never to see Lucien again, she would continue to indulge her secret attraction to him. In this new and unexpected world of Spelthorne, she was content to live the fantasy.

She’d never had such a fantasy before, ever.

As the afternoon passed with Emmaline sleeping and Sophina sitting at the window, dreaming of Lucien, a soft knock finally rattled the door. Sophina crossed the room to open the panel, revealing the servant with the bad teeth. The woman had returned with two big men lugging a copper tub between them. Bath time had finally arrived.

It was actually a small tub, about the size of half of a barrel, with taller sides and a seat built into it so one could sit in the tub and pour water over his or her body without splashing it over the sides. There was no real submersion of the body at all. It was quite fascinating, really, to see the latest form of bathing in, of all places, a military fortress, but it was extremely welcome. Sophina opened the door wide and admitted the servants, who set the tub down by the hearth.

Next, hot water was poured into the tub, about halfway, and the female servant also produced a hard, white bar of soap that smelled heavily of rosemary, and a separate mixture of salt and vinegar for further cleanliness. She even brought pieces of fabric to dry off with. When the male servants fled the chamber, the female servant remained and offered to help Sophina bathe, but she turned the woman down. Bathing was something she had always done alone. Once the door to their chamber was shut and locked, Emmaline leapt off the bed and was the first one into the tub.

Oswald jumped in, too, turning it into a splashy experience. Sophina helped her daughter bathe in the hot water, inhaling the strong rosemary scent of the soap as she washed her daughter’s hair with it. Even Oswald received a lather. It was lovely and luxurious, and after Emmaline sufficiently bathed, Sophina ordered her daughter and the ferret out of the tub and took her place in it. The water was still quite warm and the scent of the rosemary strong, as she scrubbed herself from head to foot, removing the smell of the lake scum and the general dirt from travel.

It was a heavenly afternoon spent luxuriating in a warm bath with food and drink aplenty. Sealed up in their borrowed chamber, Sophina and Emmaline were comfortable, clean, and well-fed. It was the best ending to the day that they could have asked for even though the entire experience had been most unexpected. The day had begun with the intention of making it to Gillingham before the end of the day, but outlaws, and Lucien, had changed those plans.

Not that Sophina was upset about it. She wasn’t upset in the least. In fact, she had never been quite so comfortable or quite so happy. Wrapped up in the big, borrowed robe that smelled of wood, she imagined that it was Lucien’s robe. She imagined the robe touching his skin just as it was touching hers, caressing his naked flesh. As she lay down on the bed where her daughter had so recently napped, she had thoughts of Lucien’s bare flesh against hers. Wildly inappropriate, and even silly, but her thoughts lingered on a naked Lucien just the same. As Emmaline sat at the small table and ate small purple grapes, white cheese, and a hunk of freshly-baked bread, Sophina drifted off to sleep with naughty thoughts of Lucien de Russe.

Emmaline knew when her mother fell asleep because the woman snored softly. Just little puffy snores, actually, but it told Emmaline that her mother was in an exhausted sleep. The woman slept like the dead, anyway, and very little could wake her once she was sleeping. As Emmaline shoved food into her mouth and fed Oswald cheese, she looked around the room before standing up, grapes in hand, and wandering over to the same window her mother had been parked beside. In the bailey below, there was a lot of activity, including a big horse that was very unhappy. Men were trying to put a blanket on him, or a saddle, but the horse wanted none of it. Emmaline grinned as the horse kicked a man and he went flying.

It was pure entertainment in her world. She wished she could tell her mother about it but she would have to wait until the woman was coherent. Quickly becoming bored now, with nothing to do, Emmaline moved back over to the small table to collect more grapes when she heard soft voices outside of the chamber door.