The Falls of Erith (14 page)

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Authors: Kathryn le Veque

BOOK: The Falls of Erith
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Dallas
nodded his head. “Aye, my lady. They asked for the Lady Constance by name.”

Braxton
dismissed Dallas before Gray could say anymore. She was dangerously close to
exploding; he could tell.  He stood there a moment, watching her face, waiting.

“What
do you want me to do?” he asked softly. “Do you still want me to leave?”

She
looked at him, then, and the anger fled from her face.  Her lower lip trembled
delicately. “Oh, Braxton,” she whispered. “I am so sorry. I hit you… I accused
you of awful things.”

He
went to her, pulling her into his warm, powerful embrace. Gray collapsed
against him, her soft sobs returning.  They clutched at each other, in relief,
in sorrow. His hand held her head against his chest, gently stroking her soft
blond hair.

“No
apologies, sweetheart,” he murmured into the top of her head. “All is well
again with us.”

Her
arms were around his torso, holding him tightly. “Please do not leave,” she
begged softly. “I do not want you to go.”

“Then
I will not.”

“I…
I am afraid.”

He
scowled gently. “I don’t believe it. Of what?”

She
tilted her head back to look at him. “Of what my mother has done. I have no
idea how to deal with these people who believe they are honestly vying for
Brooke’s hand. She’s only fifteen years old, for God’s sake. What am I going to
do?”

He
leaned down and kissed her, tasting the salty tears on her lips. His tongue
gently pushed into her mouth, delicately tasting her, acquainting her with the
true essence of a delicious kiss.  The hand on her head moved to her cheek, her
neck, holding her fast as his mouth left her lips and moved across her face.
With every suckle, every touch, his want for her was growing. He could not
believe how close he had come to losing her.

Gray
unwound her arms from around his midsection, raking her fingers through his
graying blond hair.  His lips were on her throat, savoring the sweet taste of
her.  But he eventually returned to her mouth, kissing her so deeply that she
went limp in his arms.  When he finally pulled away and looked at her, it took
Gray a moment to come around. Her amber eyes opened slowly.

“You
needn’t worry,” he said huskily. “I will do what must be done.  She belongs to
me, after all. I have the right to send every one of those hounds away.”

Gray
smiled faintly. “But not too harshly. We may actually want one of them to
return in a few years.”

He
grinned, kissing her again with lingering sweetness. “Go now,” he had to get
away from her or risk a complete loss of self control. “Change into one of your
new garments. I will entertain your guests until you are ready to speak to
them.”

“As
you say. And, Braxton?”

“Aye?”

“Thank
you.”

He
put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently from the stables. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER
SIX

 

She
was hiding. Or, at least, she thought she was. Whenever Brooke was upset or
wanted to be alone, she hid in the storeroom on the bottom floor of the keep.
She had a nice little corner tucked away where no one would find her. Until
today. Two pairs of eyes were gazing back at her from behind the new barrels of
salted pork.

She
didn’t recognize the eyes, both pairs soft blue and similarly shaped. 
Startled, and a little miffed at being watched, she stood up and put her hands
on her hips.  Sir Braxton’s squires popped up from the other side of the
barrels.

“What
are you doing?” Brooke demanded. “Spying on me?”

The
older boy spoke in his newly-deep man voice. “Nay, my lady,” he assured her
quickly. “We were bringing in sacks of pears. We heard a noise and thought it
was a mouse.”

She
scowled. “I do not sound like a mouse.”

The
boys looked at each other. They had no answer to that. Brooke’s angry stance
began to fade; living a somewhat isolated life at Erith, she had never had much
opportunity to be around children her own age. Now, here were two in her midst
and her curiosity overcame her indignation. She’d noticed the boys before, of
course, but never this close. And they had never spoken to her.

“What
is your name?” she asked the older boy.

“Norman,
my lady,” he replied. “This is my brother, Edgar.”

“You
travel with Sir Braxton, do you not?” she asked.

Norman
nodded. “We squire for him, my lady.”

“How
old are you, Norman?”

“I
have seen seventeen summers, my lady. I think.”

“What
do you mean ‘you think’?”

He
shrugged. “Sir Braxton found me and my brother orphaned on the streets of
Oxford.  He could only guess that I was five years and Edgar here was three. I
suppose I do not know how old I really am.”

Brooke
forgot all about her rage. She was very curious about the boys. “You were
orphans? What happened to your parents?”

Norman
shrugged. “I do not know. My earliest recollection is living in a doorway
holding my baby brother. Sir Braxton took us in.”

“He
has been your father?”

“I
suppose,” Norman replied. “He has taken care of us since we were very young.”

Brooke
inspected them both closely; they were both brunette, with pale blue eyes, and
handsome. At least, she thought so.  Except the younger one; he looked rather
scrappy. She focused intently on Edgar.

“Does
he talk?” she asked.

Edgar’s
response was to stick his tongue out at her. Then he snarled, making horrible
faces at her. Brooke frowned.

“You
are a nasty little boy.”

Edgar
mocked her frown. “I am not a little boy. I am as old as you are, you skinny,
ugly girl.”

Brooke’s
mouth popped open with outrage.  She went to poke him but he stuck his tongue
out at her again and fled. Brooke tore after him in hot pursuit, leaving Norman
to follow their trail.

Edgar
raced into the kitchen yard, taunting her and dodging when she took a whack at
him and missed. He raced on into the stable yard, ignoring his brother’s calls
to cease.  Brooke ran after him, shouting threats.  Edgar, much faster and
wilier, ran a circle around her as she tried to smack him again. Laughing
wickedly, he ran on into the main portion of the bailey where the party of
Haistethorpe had just arrived. 

Brooke
was completely ignorant of the strangers in the ward. In fact, there had been
so many strange people about lately that she didn’t give it a second thought. 
But Edgar realized too late that Sir Braxton was standing near the keep, right
in his line of sight, and he came to an abrupt halt.  Brooke immediately closed
the gap and pounced on him.

Edgar
howled as Brooke punched him mercilessly.  Norman raced up behind the pair,
trying to remove the young lady but not being too successful at it. She was
intent on pummeling his brother to death.   Edgar rolled over, toppling Brooke
onto the ground, which only made her more furious.  She pinched and kicked him
until he screamed.

Braxton
hadn’t even said a word to Lord Haistethope before this spectacle erupted. Now
he found himself breaking up a fight.  Norman saw him approaching and
desperately tried to pull Edgar away from Brooke. But Edgar was now angry more
than he was afraid of Braxton and took hold of Brooke’s hair, pulling sharply. 
Brooke screamed and took a swing at him, socking him in the jaw. Edgar tumbled
off of her, hit the ground, and she jumped on him again.

By
the time Braxton reached the brawl, Brooke was on top once again.  He shoved
Norman out of the way, grabbed Brooke under the arms, and pulled her off of
Edgar.  But she was a fighter; she continued to kick at him until Braxton growled
at her.

“Cease
this instant, Lady Brooke,” he snapped quietly. “This is behavior most
unbecoming a young lady. You shame your mother and the House of Serroux with
this wild display.”

She
yanked herself out of Braxton’s grip, turning to him with a scowl much like her
mother had when displeased. Braxton had seen the expression before.

“He
started it,” she said. “He called me ugly and stuck his tongue out at me.”

Braxton
cast Edgar, now picking himself up off the ground, a long look. “Edgar,” he
admonished quietly. “I have taught you better than that. Apologize to this
young lady.”

Only
because Braxton told him to did Edgar even consider it. But it was a struggle.
“I… I apologize,” he mumbled.

“I
cannot hear you,” Braxton said.

“I
apologize,” the boy said, louder. He looked between Braxton and the girl. “May
I go now, my lord?”

Braxton
lifted an eyebrow at him.  “You and your brother will go to Sir Dallas, tell
him what has happened, and ask for punishment. I will say no more.”

With
that, Braxton turned away, a tight grip on Brooke’s shoulder as he went.
Brooke’s last look at Edgar showed him making another face at her.

She
was going to get even with him.

 

***

 

“How
dare you believe a stranger over your own mother,” Constance hissed. “You have
made me ashamed of you.”

Gray
stood in her mother’s chamber in the midst of a tense confrontation. Constance,
as usual, denied everything. She was a master of exploitation and deflecting
blame. But not this time; Gray would make sure her mother understood just how
serious this situation was. And she would tolerate no more of it. 

“As
you make me ashamed of you,” she replied steadily. “My own mother lied to me,
manipulated me, and has gone behind my back to involve herself in affairs that
clearly do not concern her. Whatever made you think you could assume
responsibility for Brooke’s betrothal when you knew very well that Wenvoe held
her contract?”

“Psh,”
Constance was fuming. “I will not stand for your questions.”

“You
will not only stand for my questions, you will answer them. Mother, I demand it
or I swear I will banish you from Erith and this family forever.”

Constance
glared at her. “You will not threaten me.”

“It
is not a threat, I assure you. You have not only undermined my authority as
Brooke’s mother, but you took it upon yourself to violate a pact that Garber
made. But most of all, you lied about it. You wanted me to think that Braxton
had done all of this.”

“He
still continues to convince you that he is innocent.”

“He
is.” Gray shouted at her mother, and she wasn’t the shouting type. But she was
sick of her mother’s denials. “The House of Haistethorpe is in the bailey. They
told Braxton’s knights that they were her on
your
invitation, Mother.
Not Braxton’s, but yours. How can you explain that?”

Constance
would not back down.  She knew that Haistethorpe’s confirmation would blow
holes in her denial. So she did the only thing she could do; she tried to turn
it around on her daughter.

“What
if I did invite them?” she asked haughtily. “What if they are here at my request?
You have failed in your duty to provide a wealthy husband for your daughter.
Did you think Wenvoe would truly make his claim to her? He’s an old man, Gray.
He’ll be dead in a year or two and the contract will be void. You must think of
Brooke, and clearly, you are not. What I did, I did for my granddaughter’s
sake. She is the last hope this family has of regaining its wealth and honor.
You
are failing
.”

Gray
just stared at her mother. She would have loved to have called it nonsense, but
she knew that Constance believed every word.  Some of the fight went out of
Gray at that moment. She was so very tired of her mother’s interference, her
deceptions.  It had to end.

“Then
you did send out solicitations for her hand.”

“What
if I did? I had to do something, as you clearly were not.”

Gray
remained silent for a moment, contemplating her mother’s position. She thought
long and hard and deep about the women who birthed her, knowing her character,
struggling to see some good in her mother. She simply could not. The older the
woman became, the worse she became.  She began to realize there were choices
before her; choices for her, and for Brooke.

“Then
I will do my duty now, as Brooke’s mother,” she said quietly. She looked at
Constance. “You have always been vain, petty and deceitful.  But your traits
have only affected me. Now they are affecting Brooke. I do not want my daughter
to grow up thinking that it is acceptable to lie and manipulate. She is growing
into a young woman now and I know that you have been filling her head with
questionable ideas.  I will not let you do it, Mother. I will not let you ruin
my
daughter
[KEL1]
 
. I must protect her.”

Constance
wasn’t following her line of thinking, but she knew it wasn’t flattering. “If
you consider imparting the ideas of wealth and status into her head, then I
would gladly ruin her. Somehow, I could not ruin you. You did not do as I would
have taught you.”

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