The Falls of Erith (7 page)

Her
eyes riveted back to him again, wide with surprise. She yanked her hand hard,
finally pulling free of his grip. But she was still on her buttocks and a quick
getaway was unlikely.  

“You
know not what you ask,” she said quietly.

“You
are correct; I do not know. But I would ask just the same.”

“Why?”

“I
told you why.”

Frustration
blossomed. “Do not toy with me, my lord. If you only think to amuse yourself
with my misery, then you may look elsewhere for entertainment. I shall not
respond to your attempts to probe me. My life is my own and I do not know you. 
I will be glad to have you on your way tomorrow if only to be left in peace.”

She
probably meant it, too. “I am not a clever man, my lady,” he did not rise to
her irritation. “I have never, nor would I ever, toy with a woman. I have not
the patience. What I tell you is the truth. I saw a beautiful lady today and
simply wished to know her.”

She
did not reply. He finally stood up, towering over her as she sat at his feet. 
Without another word, he turned and descended the stairs along the wall,
crossing the dark bailey for the warmth of the keep.  Though his body had left
her, his mind had not. It was still upon the wall walk, wondering why such a
beautiful woman was so embittered and mistrustful. If she did not believe him
by now, she never would.  He realized he felt a good deal of disappointment
about it.

He
was just mounting the steps to the keep when movement caught his attention.
Glancing over, he could see Gray descending the stairs, clutching the stone
walls as she lowered herself one step at a time. She was struggling, that much
was clear. She seemed to be particularly weak and not simply because he had
startled her by ripping a sword out of her hand. He paused half way up the
stairs, watching her labor with every stair.  He couldn’t just leave her. 
Slowly, he retraced his steps.

He
met her at the bottom of the wall stairs. Gray looked at him, all of the fight
gone out of her.  Braxton stood there a moment, gazing back at her. He was
still trying to figure her out, though he did not completely understand why.
He’d never had a woman intrigue him so.  Silently, he reached out and scooped
her into his arms.  She didn’t look as if she couldn’t walk another step.

Surprisingly,
she did not protest. Her arms went around his neck and he could feel her hot
breath on his jaw. He knew she was watching him.  He was almost to the steps that
led back into the keep when he felt her head, soft and sweet, lay down against
his shoulder.

“Would…
would you mind if we sat by your fire, my lord?” she asked softly.

He
paused at the base of the steps and turned around, facing the south wall where
three small fires blazed. “Those?”

“Aye.”

“Why
would you want to sit there when there is a warm hall at the top of these
stairs?”

Her
head came up, the amber eyes fixed on him. “Because it is full of people. You
have asked fair questions, my lord. I would give you answers, but not for all
to hear. I… I thought we could speak privately if, indeed, you still seek
answers to your questions.”

He
didn’t argue. In fact, his pace picked up as he went over to the first of the
three small blazes. He set her on her feet and she weaved dangerously. He
reached out to steady her.

“Are
you feeling ill?”

She
waved him off weakly. “I shall be all right.”

“When
did you eat last?”

Her
head snapped in his direction and he could see the shame in her eyes.
“Yesterday,” she lied. “I had a large meal. I simply haven’t been hungry until
now.”

He
didn’t want to dispute her, but Brooke’s hint of how her mother went without
food because there was not enough to go around rang loudly in his mind.  He
pulled out the nearest bedroll and put it on the ground under her.

“Sit,”
he ordered quietly. “I shall go and retrieve your meal.”

“Nay,
please.…”

He
was insistent. “I have not yet eaten myself. Sit there and I shall return.”

Gray
was too weak to argue. She watched him cross the bailey, noting the confidence
and power to his stride. He took the steps two at a time and disappeared into
the keep.  She began to relax, watching the flames as they danced before her.
It was hypnotic, easing the strain on her mind. Before she realized it, Braxton
was back, a hefty trencher in each hand, a wooden pitcher of the cheap wine
hooked into a finger, and wooden cups under both arms. 

Gray
took the pitcher from him and both cups as he sat beside her.  Neither one of
them spoke as she poured the wine and accepted her trencher from him. As the
fire blazed soothingly into the dark Cumbrian sky, Gray delved into the first
real meal she had eaten in days.

Braxton
ate silently beside her, watching her from the corner of his eye.  He could see
that she was famished, stuffing her mouth so full that she could barely chew.
The action touched him deeply.  Like her daughter, she was starving. There
simply wasn’t enough for everyone and Gray suffered so that others would not
starve. He doubted the grandmother felt the same pangs. He suspected the old
woman took what she wanted without regard for anyone else. She looked like the
type.

“You
were going to answer my questions,” he reminded her casually.

Gray
swallowed the bite in her mouth, chasing it with a long drink of the bitter
wine. “Which question would you have answered?”

His
blue-green eyes fixed on her. “Why are you so mistrustful of my actions?”

She
met his eyes; the urge to shy away was overwhelming.  “I… I really don’t know.
Perhaps it is because no man has ever been particularly truthful to me. Not my
husband or my father.” She lifted a hand to suggest he look at their
surroundings. “Erith is all I have. I am a lone woman with no army.  I must
protect myself and my family. It was stupid of me to allow you and your army
inside these walls.”

“Yet
you did. Do you believe me now when I tell you I have no intention of stealing
your fortress?”

She
shrugged. “I suppose I must.”

“I
could take Erith at any time and you’d not be able to stop me. You might as
well trust me, for you have little choice.”

Her
silence confirmed what she already knew.  Braxton watched her as she averted
her focus and looked back to her food. 

“What
happened to your husband?” he asked, somewhat gently, somewhat seriously.

She
picked up another bit of venison and put it to her lips, chewing slowly as she
spoke. “He is dead.”

“So
I was told. But what happened to him?”

Gray
couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She didn’t know why she was about to
tell him, but she was. “He was murdered,” she whispered. “Over a gambling
debt.”

“I
see.” He drew in a long breath, gazing up at the stars over head. “Has he been
gone long?”

“Four
years.”

He
looked back at her. “And you have not considered remarrying?”

She
met his gaze, then. “Who would have me, my lord?” The strength was returning to
her voice. “I have nothing to offer but a broken fortress. No man of standing
or decency would want to marry a woman with nothing to offer but poverty.”

He
lifted an eyebrow. “You underestimate your worth, madam.”

She
stared at him a long moment before shoving her trencher to the ground and
rising on unsteady legs. She had barely turned to walk away before he was up
and standing in front of her. She tried to move around him but he blocked her.

“What
have I said to make you run away from me again?” he demanded quietly.

Irritated,
frustrated, she tried to push through him but he would not budge.  She threw
both hands out as if to shove him out of the way, but it was like shoving a
wall. He was immovable.  He grasped her arms and held her fast.

“Answer
me,” he rumbled. “What did I say?”

The
frustration was turning to angry tears.  “Let me go.”

“Not
until you answer me.”

She
wrestled with him but he only held her tighter. “Let me go, I say.”

“Answer
me and I shall.”

She
very nearly exploded. “I told you not to toy with me. Save your sweet words for
someone who appreciates empty compliments and stale flattery, for I do not.”

His
brow furrowed. “Is that it?” He couldn’t believe she was upset with him over
that. “God’s truth, madam, I mean every word. In spite of your broken fortress
and destitute situation, you have the beauty of an angel.  A wise man would
look beyond your situation to see that the true treasure lies with you, not
with your lack of a dowry.”

She
stopped fighting him, looking at him as if he was mad.  “How… how can you say
such things?” she wanted to know. “Men marry for wealth and status, not
beauty.”

“I
would marry for beauty.”

The
blue-green eyes were intense on her. Gray suddenly felt warm and confused. The
frustration and anger from moments earlier was gone, replaced by a strange
sense of euphoria.

“Then
you are a unique soul,” she was calming, “for most men would not.”

His
grip on her arms lessened but he did not let go.  “They are fools.”

Even
in the moonlight, he swore he could see a faint blush to her cheeks. It was
enchanting.  He took the opportunity to gently take her hand, turning her back
around towards the fire. 

Gray
allowed him to sit her back down on the bedroll that served as her chair.  He
picked up her half-eaten trencher and put it back in her hands.  He sat close
to her as he reclaimed his own trencher.

“Is
the venison to your liking?” he wanted to keep the conversation going but stay
away from the heady subjects, of which there were apparently many. “This was a
big buck. Sometimes if they are too big and too old, their flesh is tough.”

“This
is delicious.” She chewed slowly, watching him from the corner of her eye. “Did
you kill it yourself?”

He
took a drink of the nasty wine. “Nay,” he shook his head. “I leave the sport to
my men, though when I was younger, I was quite a good marksman.”

“Surely
you still are.”

His
eyes twinkled. “Perhaps you would like to go hunting with me to see just how
good I am, or at least I used to be?”

She
fought off a smile. “Nay, I would not. My father considered hunting quite a
sport, but I thought it was cruel.”

“Cruel
but necessary to feed an army.”

“Or
a fortress.”

He
lifted his cup to her in agreement. “Was your father a great hunter, then?”

For
the first time since they had met, the conversation was flowing freely. No
tension, no fears.  Braxton was relieved to see that she was finally relaxing
around him.  It made him feel light hearted as he hadn’t felt in years.

“My
father had been a great knight, once,” she replied. “He was the son of a great
knight.”

He
stared at her a moment. “Simon de Montfort.”

She
met his gaze. “Aye,” she said slowly. “How did you know?”

He
poured her more wine. “Because your daughter introduced me to your mother as
the Lady Constance de Montfort.  Since you said your mother was of the
Northumberland Grays, I could only assume de Montfort is her married name. I
also happen to know that Erith is a holding of Simon de Montfort, or at least
it used to be many years ago. So logically, your father must be a son or
descendent of de Montfort.”

She
nodded. “My father was Simon’s sixth child and third son, Richard.”

Braxton
smiled faintly. Gray gazed back at him, wondering what his reaction would be to
her lineage. It was not something she bragged about, being the granddaughter of
a publicly disgraced earl.  The wine on her empty stomach was loosening her
tongue, causing her to speak before she could think through clearly.

“Now
that you know my family lines, I do not blame you if you should take back every
nice deed you have done for me,” she drank of the deep red liquid. “Most people
do, you know. Once they discover my grandfather was Simon de Montfort, they
smile to my face yet whisper behind my back.”

He
frowned. “Simon de Montfort was a great man with great ideas. I have a great
deal of respect for his memory.”

She
snorted. “You speak treason, my lord.”

“Perhaps.
But I speak the truth.”

“Most
people do not think that way, especially in these lands where de Montfort held
a presence. The king was hard on those who supported my grandfather when the
tides finally turned against him. People around here have still not forgotten
that.”

“True
enough. But it is a pity they cannot remember that de Montfort’s only true
crime was his quest for a better England.”

“You
know something of my grandfather’s history?”