The Iron Knight (The De Russe Legacy Book 3) (18 page)

Lucien just stood there, smiling in a way he’d never smiled before. There was such warmth and feeling behind the smile, an expression that no one had seen on him since the death of his wife. Those days of joy had vanished when she was buried. But now, that joy, that consuming happiness that he’d known once before was threatening a resurgence. He should have been cautious about it but he found he was too damn happy to be cautious about anything.

“I would like to share them with you,” he whispered. “I would be honored to share them with you.”

“And I with you.”

His gaze lingered on her a moment, glittering in the moonlight as he reconciled the direction his life was taking. He’d never considered himself a giddy man, but this day had seen that opinion of himself change drastically. He wanted very much to hold her again, simply because he’d missed the feeling of a soft, warm body in his arms for so long, but he refrained. There would be time enough for such things later.

“Well, then,” he said, struggling to focus on what needed to be done because his thoughts naturally wanted to linger on her. “The first thing I must do is rid myself of Holderness and his daughter. After that, I shall to write Henry and then to your father to inform them of the coming changes.”

Sophina was feeling the same giddy delight that he was, struggling to keep it under control. “Truly,” she said, putting a hand on his arm gently. “Lady Juno is a very kind girl. Emmaline likes her a great deal. I should not like to see her hurt by all of this.”

He smiled faintly, taking her warm hand in his. “You have a tender heart,” he said quietly. “I can see it. You do not like to hurt others.”

Sophina shook her head. “Not intentionally, I do not,” she said, feeling his fingers against hers with the greatest of delight. “I am sure you will be tactful and kind, whatever you do.”

He kissed her hand gently. “I shall try.”

Before she could reply, they heard clamoring over by passageway that had led from the small central courtyard that the hall door had opened in to. Lucien dropped Sophina’s hand quickly and by the time three small bodies appeared, running towards them, Lucien and Sophina were standing a few feet apart from each other, quite respectably. As Sophina watched curiously, her daughter’s running form came into view.

Emmaline was heading straight for Lucien. It took Sophina a moment to recognize Juno and Aricia behind her. They were all running like the wind, skirts blowing out behind them.

“Sir Lucien!” Emmaline gasped as she reached him. “You must come! It is your daughter!”

Lucien’s brow furrowed but, immediately, he was moving swiftly with the ladies clustered around him, heading back for the hall.

“What has happened?” he asked steadily. “Is she injured?”

Emmaline shook her head; it was clear that she was over-excited. “Nay!” she said. “Your daughter was screaming because you were not there to eat sup with her and she hit the earl in the face with one of her metal canes! Blood is everywhere!”

Lucien didn’t know whether to laugh or rage. It was so typical of Susanna to do something like that, which is why she never ate in the hall. He simply couldn’t trust her behavior. Rolling his eyes, he continued on, following the path they had all come, back up the stairs and through the courtyard into the side entrance to the hall.

Emmaline had been right. Blood
was
everywhere.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sherborne Castle

Dorset

“I
know Lucien
de Russe,” a tall, black-eyed knight said. “He is incapable of what you are suggesting.”

Du Ponte was in the gatehouse of Sherborne Castle, a massive three-storied structure that was staffed by heavily-armed sentries, all looking at him very suspiciously. In fact, du Ponte and his men had not been allowed past the gatehouse and now stood inside a guard’s room, a very small chamber that was barely big enough for two men. There was an unusually large hearth, now spitting out a great amount of heat and smoke into the room, as du Ponte faced the garrison commander.

Du Ponte’s men had been kept outside of the castle, huddling in an angry group on the field just outside of the drawbridge, while du Ponte was the only one allowed to meet with the garrison commander, a legacy knight by the name of Jorrin de Bretagne. He was a big man, rugged and dark, and he didn’t seem too inclined to leap to du Ponte’s immediate defense. In fact, if anything, he was on de Russe’s side.

Already, the meeting wasn’t going well.

“My lord, I assure you, it is the truth,” du Ponte pushed now that he found himself on the defensive. “The man ambushed my betrothed and her daughter as the carriage traveled just west of Tisbury. I know it was him because when I returned with my men to save the women, de Russe had an entire contingent of men dragging the carriage out of the lake that it had fallen into during the ambush. He was looting all of the trunks that the carriage had contained. I have many men who will swear to this, my lord. You must believe me.”

De Bretagne folded his arms over his broad chest, his expression suggesting impatience. “I have fought with de Russe numerous times,” he said. “I have found him to be honorable and talented. What you are suggesting is slanderous at best. Do you have proof of this betrothal you speak of?”

Du Ponte nodded emphatically. “I have brought it with me,” he insisted. “A missive from the woman’s father suggesting the marriage. It is in my possession.”

De Bretagne simply shook his head, still in great doubt. “Who is to say you did not forge the missive?”

“It has Andover’s seal on it!”

“And de Russe has custody of the woman, you say?”

“He does! He stole her!”

“I do not believe that he did.”

Du Ponte was at a loss. He’d not expected this reaction. “Then you will not help me?” he pleaded. “My betrothed and her daughter are at stake and you will not help me? God’s Bones, who can I turn to if you will not help me? There is no one else! My betrothed is in great danger and you will not help!”

De Bretagne shifted on his big legs, irritably, holding up a hand to silence the wailing that du Ponte was doing. “Why don’t you simply go to Spelthorne and ask de Russe to return your betrothed?” he asked as if du Ponte was an idiot. “Did you even think to do that?”

Du Ponte threw up his arms. “How can I ask him to return her when he is the one who ambushed her in the first place?” he fired back angrily. “Do you not understand? Lucien de Russe has taken that which belongs to me and I want it back!”

He was shouting, which didn’t sit well with de Bretagne. He wasn’t one to be shouted at. He had the fiery Spanish temperament in his blood and that never reacted well to shouting.

“Speak in a civil tone or I will not lift a finger to help you,” he growled.

Du Ponte could see that he’d offended the man. He moved towards him, imploringly, coughing when the smoke from the overly-large blaze in the hearth got in his throat. “Please, my lord,” he said, calmly and more quietly. “I would not have come here if I did not believe this to be a terrible and serious matter. I need men to go with me to force de Russe to return my betrothed and my belongings. He has my carriage, in fact, and I want it all back. Will you not give me a few hundred of your men so that I may go to Spelthorne prepared?”

De Bretagne’s eyebrows lifted. “A few hundred?”

“A few thousand.”

“A few
thousand
?” de Bretagne repeated, disgusted. “Of course I will not give you my entire army to march on Spelthorne. I know for a fact that de Russe would not have done any of those things that you have accused him of. There must be another explanation.”

Du Ponte could see that the situation was slipping away from him. Shouting hadn’t worked; perhaps pleading and sorrow would.

“If there is, I am in fear for my life to go to Spelthorne to seek it,” he said. “We are speaking of The Iron Knight, a man with such a reputation that those who do not fear him are foolish men, indeed. I tell you that de Russe stole my betrothed and my carriage, yet you will not help me. I am perfectly willing to speak to de Russe in a calm manner, but he will laugh at me if I go with only the men I employ. Yet… if
you
will ride with me to Spelthorne, he will see your numbers and he must speak civilly to me. Mayhap you can even convince him to return my carriage. And my betrothed, of course. Will you at least do this? I only ask for your mediation, my lord, and nothing more.”

De Bretagne pursed his lips irritably. He suspected that if he didn’t do something, this wouldn’t be the last he saw of du Ponte. He knew of the man; it was hard not to know of him and his shady reputation. All good men in the southwest of England kept an eye on du Ponte, knowing what the rumors were about him, and this included de Russe.

De Bretagne was coming to think that if de Russe had ambushed the man, it was to gain back property that had been stolen. Perhaps that was the real reason behind this. In any case, de Bretagne was coming to think he needed to agree to at least mediate whatever problem du Ponte thought he had with de Russe. Anything to keep this fool from hounding him.

Frustrated at the situation and at du Ponte’s howling, he shook his head reproachfully.

“Very well,” he said. “I will go with you and I will discover the truth of your accusations. But you will let me handle this situation my way, do you understand? Any interference from you and I will cut all ties.”

Du Ponte was very eager. “Of course, my lord,” he agreed swiftly. “Bless you for your assistance. Bless you.”

De Bretagne grunted. “If anything, I should take you to Spelthorne so you can beg de Russe’s forgiveness for slandering him so,” he said. “You are a fool, indeed, if any of what you have told me is not true.”

“All of it is true, I swear it.”

“We shall see.”

Much to du Ponte’s annoyance, de Bretagne was slow to move. It wasn’t until the next morning that he even began to assemble his troops as he kept du Ponte and his tiny contingent of men outside of the walls, unwilling to allow them inside.

Du Ponte swore that once he was finished with de Russe, he would make sure that de Bretagne paid the price for his apathy.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I
t was all
very exciting….

At least, Emmaline thought so. She was with her two new friends, Juno and Aricia, being escorted by none other than Colton de Royans while chaos went on in the hall. Lady Susanna de Russe, the same young girl who had screamed at them for most of the day from her chamber below, had belted Juno’s father in the mouth with one of her canes in a fit of anger.

After fetching Sir Lucien, Emmaline and Juno and Aricia had followed him, and Sophina, back into the hall and straight into the heart of the chaos. In fact, there was so much going on that Sir Lucien asked Sir Colton to usher the young women from the hall. The young knight quickly complied.

There had been a great deal of cursing and yelling going on, which was why Emmaline suspected de Royans had been asked to remove the impressionable young ladies. He’d taken them out of the smoky, loud hall and back into the keep, into a ground-floor solar that was directly off the entry. From the madness of the hall to the sudden quiet of the keep, it was as if they had entered another world. Things were peaceful and quiet again.

The solar was cold, dark, and cluttered, and de Royans summoned a servant to build a fire while he quickly cleaned up the mess that was on a very large, heavy table. As the fire in the hearth gained steam and the young women huddled back by the chamber door, Emmaline thought she saw maps and written documents in the pile of things that de Royans cleaned from the table. In fact, as the light in the chamber grew, she could see weapons and armor and other items suggesting war and weaponry all around the room, crowding the walls and corners. Clearly, this was a man’s chamber. Once the table was cleared off and the fire was burning in the hearth, de Royans sent the servant for food and drink.

Emmaline, Juno, and Aricia sat very close together on one end of the table as de Royans tried to coax more flame from the hearth. Aricia was whispering to Juno, who kept shaking her head. They both looked a little shocked at what had happened. Emmaline couldn’t hear what Aricia was saying but whatever it was, Juno was either disagreeing with her or denying her. She kept shaking her head. But finally, perhaps after too much prodding from Aricia, Juno cleared her throat softly.