Archangel (45 page)

With plans changed, Gart intended to send ten of his own men to Trelystan to collect the children, men that the children were already familiar with thanks to their stay at Dunster.  It was something he intended to do before the day was out. He wanted the rest of the children with him and Emberley as quickly as possible.

As Gart moved away from the door frame, Romney apparently saw the movement and jumped up, running to the door.  He caught sight of Gart just as the man was entering the corridor that led to the kitchens.

“Gart!” he yelled. “May I please come with you?”

Gart paused in the archway, giving the boy a half-grin and waving a big arm at him, indicating for the boy to follow.  Romney bolted after him happily.

He followed Gart out into the rear yards behind the kitchen where a staircase led down into the basement armory. It was a warm day, moist, and the summer bugs were thick in the trees overhead.

As Gart descended the stairs to the basement, Romney kicked dirt around, picked up rocks and threw them in the fish pond, and then began throwing rocks at the soldiers on duty.  One man was hit in the neck and turned around to yell at Romney until he saw Forbes. The soldier quickly moved the other direction.

Triumphant, Romney followed Gart down into the armory and immediately began touching everything he could get his hands on.  As Gart sheathed his broadsword, he noticed Romney and his five hundred hands.

“Leave well enough alone,” he told the boy, motioning him over. “Come and help me with this.”

Romney went to him obediently, noticing Gart’s familiar bags.  Be it instinct or habit, he immediately began to rummage through Gart’s bags.

“Out,” Gart snapped softly when he saw what the boy was doing.  “If you do not keep your hands to yourself, I am going to tie you up and hang you from a tree.”

Romney grinned but removed his hands. He gazed up at Gart. “What are you doing?”

Gart was in another bag, pulling out small daggers. “You can help me sharpen these.”

Romney was eager to do so but yanked his hand away when he reached out to grab one without permission and Gart smacked it.  Frowning, he rubbed at his stinging fingers.

“When are Orin and Brendt coming?” he asked.

Gart removed two more small daggers from his bag.  “Soon,” he told him. “I am sending my men to retrieve them today.”

Romney watched Gart carefully set the daggers in a row.  “Can you tell your men to bring my sword, too? I left it at Trelystan.”

Gart nodded as he inspected a nick on one of the daggers. “I suppose so,” he glanced at the boy. “Perhaps we can even have a real one made for you.”

Romney’s eyes widened. “Truly?” he asked. “Can I have a crossbow, too?”

Gart wriggled his eyebrows. “Your mother has been clear in her decision against the crossbow,” he said. “But perhaps we can convince her that a real sword would be in order.”

Romney was so excited he could hardly stand it. With an invisible sword in his hand, he began jumping around the armory, fighting mail coats on frames and doing battle with unseen enemies. Gart watched him with a smirk.

“You will be a fearsome knight someday,” he told him. “But your new sword will be quite dull until you grow older.”

Romney didn’t care. All that mattered was that Gart had promised him a real sword.  He continued fighting the unseen enemy until he bashed into a mail coat on a frame and tipped the entire thing over. Gart just looked at him and shook his head.

“Pick it up,” he commanded softly.

Contrite, Romney tried and tried to heave the frame up but it was far too heavy for him with the mail upon it.  Finally, Gart took pity on him and stood the frame up while Romney tried to straighten the mail coat. When he was finished, he looked at Gart with a big eager grin and Gart broke down into snorts of laughter, running his big hand over the boy’s blond head affectionately.

On the way out of the armory, Gart carried four daggers and Romney had one in a heavy sheath.  Gart was concerned the boy would trip and impale himself so he gave him the weapon with the thickest sheath. 

Romney was surprisingly careful, however, carefully taking the steps and then very carefully crossing the kitchen yard.  Once inside the manse, he continued to be very careful with the blade as he moved through the corridor and into the entry hall with its big, stone steps.

As they reached the stairs, little Christina spied Romney out in the entry hall and began to squeal for him.  Romney didn’t want to play with the baby, because he was far too big for that sort of thing, but then he noticed that there was a tray of sweets in the reception hall and that had his attention. Emilie saw the pair as they went to mount the steps.

“Romney,” she said happily. “Your mother is awake and will be joining us shortly for a meal. Will you please join us also?”

Romney was lured by the treats but he also wanted to help Gart sharpen the daggers.  Gart saw the boy’s indecision and pulled the sheathed blade out of his hand.

“Go and enjoy the treats,” he told him. “I will save this blade for you.”

Romney scratched his head, looking up at Gart. “Are you sure?”

“I am.” Gart threw his chin in the direction of the reception room. “Go. I will send your mother down.”

Romney skipped off the steps and into the reception room. Gart could hear Christina crowing happily at the boy’s appearance, which made him smile.  Romney seemed to have that excited effect on children, like a Pied Piper that could lead them all into delirious childhood joy. He had the air of leadership about him, even at such a young age.  Mounting the rest of the steps, he knocked softly on Emberley’s door.

“Come,” she said, muffled behind the panel.

Gart pushed the door open, his gaze falling on Emberley as she secured a linked copper belt around her hips.  She was wearing a pale yellow linen surcoat with a square neckline, a garment that enhanced her figure beautifully. Her blond hair was free flowing, wavy because it had been braided in her sleep, and a pretty shell comb secured the front of her hair off her face.  Gart sighed dreamily at the sight of her.

“Good morning, my lady,” he greeted softly.

She beamed at him, smoothing down the bodice of the surcoat. “Good morning, Sir Gart,” she went over to him, leaning against him and kissing him sweetly. “Did you sleep well, sweetheart?”

He kissed her again, nuzzling her face with his nose. “I always sleep well when you are with me,” he murmured. “How do you feel this morning?”

She stood back from him and adjusted the copper belt. “I feel remarkably well.”

“No belly ache?”

She shook her head. “Not this morning.”

He went over to the table where he had set his pumice stone and set down the collection of daggers in his hand.  Then he returned to Emberley and scooped her up in his enormous embrace. He hugged her tightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He just stood there and held her, her feet dangling more than a foot off the ground.

“It is so good to simply feel you in my arms,” he murmured against the side of her head. “This reminds of the days back at Dunster when it was just you and I and the children, without a care in the world.”

She held on to him, drowning herself in the man’s massive body and warm power.

“We will know those days again,” she assured him softly. “Perhaps it will be in Burgenland, high on a mountain top, but I swear we will know those days again.”

He kissed the side of her head and set her carefully to her feet. His green eyes were serious.

“I know that you have already considered this, but if we are forced to flee, we cannot be legally married,” he said, his voice low. “But I swear to you, in my heart, mind and body, we will be more married than any two people have ever been on this earth. I will call you my wife regardless.”

She smiled at him, holding his big hands in her small warm ones. “And you shall be my husband,” she whispered. “Marriage is a foolishly inconsequential thing compared to the love and devotion you and I have. Marriage could not make us any richer.”

He returned her smile, kissing her hands gently. “Lady Emilie has a grand meal spread out below for you,” he told her. “Rom is already down there, eating everything of noteworthiness, I am sure.”

Emberley wriggled her eyebrows. “Perhaps I had better join them before everything is eaten and gone. Will you be joining us?”

He escorted her to the door, opening it for her. “Later,” he told her. “I have a few things to attend to now that you are awake.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He dipped his head in the direction of the table that held the pumice stone and daggers.  “I have been sitting with you all morning in case you woke and needed me.”

She smiled and shook her head. “I am not a child that needs to be tended every moment, Gart,” she pinched his cheek affectionately. “Although I thank you for your sweet devotion, you could have easily gone about your duties as I slept.”

He fought off a grin. “I know,” he replied, almost defiantly. “But I wanted to watch you sleep. I have not had that privilege in some time.”

She laughed softly, touched by his words, as she quit the room.  Gart took her hand as they descended the steps.  As they neared the bottom of the staircase, talking softly between them, Emilie caught sight of the pair and rose from her chair.  She appeared in the door of the reception room, her lovely face alight with a smile.

“Lady Emberley,” she greeted. “It is good to see you looking so well this morning.”

Emberley smiled at the truly likable woman. “Thank you, Lady de Lohr,” she said. “I slept very well in your lovely chamber.”

Emilie came towards her, hand outstretched. She was looking at Gart as she spoke. “You have monopolized her enough, Gart,” she scolded lightly. “I should like to come to know my new friend. Go now, and do whatever it is knights do these days.”

Emberley laughed at Gart’s fallen expression as she took Emilie’s hand and the two of them looked quite companionable. Gart sighed, putting a hand over his heart.

“You have hurt me deeply, Lady de Lohr,” he jested. “I suppose I am being chased away.”

“You are,” Emilie winked at Emberley. “But we will be right here, have no fear. Your lady will not be far from you.”

Before Emilie could pull Emberley away, Gart bent over, cupped her face with one hand, and kissed her cheek sweetly.  With a wink and a rather provocative rake of her body with his gaze, he quit the entry hall and disappeared towards the rear of the manse.

Emberley watched him go before turning to Emilie and realizing the woman had been studying the interplay between her and Gart quite intently. Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink.

“He loves you a great deal,” Emilie said softly. “I can see it in everything about him.”

Emberley was floating on clouds, deliriously in love with the man. “As I love him also,” she murmured, not sure what more she could say on the subject.  “Have you known Gart long?”

Emilie clutched her hand as they retreated back into the reception room where Romney was stuffing himself with apricot sweets.

“I have known him for four years,” she said. “He is a good man. I am so glad he has found happiness with you.”

“I have known him most of my life,” Emberley replied. “He was my brother’s best friend before my brother perished in the Levant.”

They reached a pair of comfortable chairs and Emilie indicated for Emberley to sit, which she did.  Romney came over to his mother and she pulled the big lad onto her lap.  But he didn’t want to stay too long, just long enough to be hugged, before slithering off to return to the tray of sweets.