“Is something amiss, my lady?” he asked.
Startled at his voice, she nearly tripped on her skirts. He had to grab her to keep her from falling. “Nay, my lord,” she said.
“You left rather quickly. We were afraid we had offended you somehow.”
So she had made a fool of herself yet again. Cantia thought she was the only one who had noticed her swift flight. It seemed that all she did was make a fool of herself in front of her liege. Gazing up into his dark eyes, she began to feel extremely foolish.
“Of course you did not,” she said. “You could not possibly do anything to offend me. Even if you did, I would forgive you. But I am truly sorry if I seemed rude or abrupt. I did not mean to.”
Tevin gazed into her beautiful face, feeling a pull he’d never felt before. It was enough to seriously disturb him, for whatever pity or compassion he had been feeling for the lady over the past few days was transforming into something that seemed to be affecting his mind as well as his tongue. He should have fought it with all his strength, but at the moment, he couldn’t seem to. All he knew was that any time he spent with Lady Penden, however brief or trivial or emotional, was unlike any time he’d ever spent before, with anyone.
“Say no more,” he said. “As long as all is well, I shall leave you to your duties.”
She nodded, watching as he excused himself. Cantia stood there a moment, observing his powerful form stroll across the yard and back into the keep. She’d never seen a man move with such strength before, with such commanding presence. It was interesting to compare it to Brac’s presence, which was by far more relaxed and easy. Brac had never radiated the power that Tevin did. It was curious. Turning for the kitchen once again, she went about her business with a good deal on her already-strained mind.
CHAPTER FIVE
Myles had been on duty constantly since Brac’s passing. Though he rode with Viscount Winterton on the second raid to retake the Dartford Crossing Bridge, he’d spent the majority of his time patrolling the walls of Rochester and trying to keep an eye on Charles. With Brac’s passing, Myles would assume what responsibility he could. He owed it to Brac, and to Cantia, to do so.
Now, he was taking a much deserved rest in the knight’s quarters. All of Viscount Winterton’s men had temporary quarters here, and he knew them all from the past years of battle. He knew and liked Simon Horley; the man was fierce, bold and, strangely, thoughtful. John Swantey was also a reputable man that he was comfortable with. Dagan Sutton and Gavril de Reigate were latecomers to the viscount’s corps, having been gifted to the viscount from the Earl of Norfolk for services in battle. They were a quiet pair and he did not know much about them, but he had seen that they were courageous fighters.
Myles sat at the table in the small gathering room of the knight’s quarters, contemplating the last of his wine and thinking he should probably try to get some sleep. But he seriously wondered if he should check on Lady Penden and her son first. Though the lady’s outward grief had not reached the fevered pitch that Charles’ had, still, he could see how devastated she was. Myles knew very well that Cantia and Brac had been fond of each other.
As he contemplated his thoughts, the door to the knight’s quarters flew open and Charles stomped in. Myles looked up to see that the man was in a serious degree of madness, mumbling to himself and looking around the room as he was searching for something. It seemed that he didn’t even see Myles until the knight spoke.
“Is there something I can do for you, my lord?”
Charles froze, looking at Myles as if startled to see him. Then he marched straight to him and slammed his hands on the table.
“A weapon,” he growled. “I need a weapon.”
Myles did not like the sound of the request. “Why?”
Charles threw up his arms. “Must everyone disobey me at my own house?” he cried. “Give me your weapon, de Lohr. Give it to me now.”
Myles broadsword was lying on his bed in the next room, thankfully. Myles set his wine down and stood up.
“I am sworn to you, my lord,” he said steadily. “If there is any defending to be done, I will do it in your stead.”
Charles grabbed him as if to shake him, but Myles was too big a man to shake. “I do not defend anything. I will kill him.”
“Kill who?”
Charles’ expression was beyond madness. It was obsession and impulse, blended into an elixir of pure psychosis. “The viscount. He has shamed me. He has killed my son. He must pay.”
Now it was Myles’ turn to grab Charles. “You speak treason, my lord,” he said quietly, firmly. “I will hear no more of this. Should the viscount catch wind of what you have said, it would mean great danger for you and possibly your family. You must keep yourself in check, my lord, or all will be lost. Do you understand me?”
Charles’ lips curled back in a sneer that just as quickly faded. “I understand that he has invaded my home. Rochester is no longer mine.”
“Rochester will always belong to the stewards,” Myles assured him, praying that the man would get a grip on himself. “Get some sleep, my lord. You’ve not slept for days and your exhaustion is weighing heavily. Come to the next room and…”
Charles yanked away from Myles, pacing sloppily across the floor. “She did this,” he muttered. “That foolish wench has caused this. She sides with him, you know.”
“Who?”
“The viscount,” Charles insisted. “She sides with him. He protects her. They are going to take Rochester away from me. Well, that will not happen. It cannot. I forbid it!”
He suddenly bolted from the room before Myles could catch him. He stood in the doorway, watching Charles lose himself in the bustle of the ward. He could only shake his head. So much for the idea of sleep.
Myles went in search of Tevin.
*
The September day was cool and rainy. Clouds had moved in off the sea and a steady rain had pounded the land since late morning. Cantia was in the solar with Val, feeling obligated to give special attention to the sister of her liege. After the meal that the injured lady so delicately ate, for even swallowing seemed to be painful, Cantia had the fire stoked and proceeded to warm some water to wash the lady with.
Val didn’t protest as Cantia ran a warm, wet cloth over her one good shoulder and one good arm, and then moved to clean the dirt off her face. Val really was a pretty woman, even prettier without all of the grime associated with battle. Cantia said little as she bathed her patient and made every effort to insure the woman’s comfort. Val had been watching her closely, however, thinking that she had never before seen such a lovely woman. She could understand her brother’s fascination with her.
At some point, Hunt entered the solar with the ever-present dog on his heels. Hunt was used to coming and going as he pleased, for his father never admonished him for anything. Brac had always been unusually lenient with the child and though Hunt wasn’t spoiled, he was bold. He walked right up to Val as Cantia tightened the bandages that braced her bad shoulder.
His big blue eyes focused on the lady knight. “You are not a real knight,” he said flatly.
Cantia looked at her son with displeasure. “Hunt, you are rude to address the lady so,” she admonished firmly. “Please apologize.”
But Val grinned, waving off the motherly scolding. “Nay, my lady, he is quite right,” she said. “I am not a man and, therefore, not a real knight. But I fight as one anyway.”
“Why?” Hunt asked innocently.
“Because that is my calling.”
Hunt cocked his head. “You are called? Called what?”
Val’s grin broadened. “I simply mean that this is what I do. I was born to do it.”
“But…” his little nose scrunched in confusion. “How can you fight if you are not a real knight?”
“Enough,” Cantia turned her son around and faced him towards the door. “Take George outside and play with him. Throw him the balls. He likes that.”
Hunt dug hi
s heels in. “But I’m hungry!”
“Then go to the kitchen,” she slapped him lightly on the buttocks. “Cook will give you something to eat. Go now and leave me in peace.”
Hunt did as he was told, but not before he walked a wide circle around the room, touching everything within his reach, all the while watching his mother finish tending the lady knight. Only when Cantia shot him a threatening look did he leave the room completely. When he was gone, she dared meet Val’s amused gaze.
“I must apologize for my son’s behavior,” she said. “He is, unfortunately, quite stubborn and not quick to obey.”
Val merely grinned. “He is still very young. But that will change when you send him to foster. He’ll have to obey swiftly or risk a beating.”
Cantia’s delicate fingers froze for a moment, then resumed tightening the bandage. Val glanced at the woman, noting that her expression seemed distressed. She wrongly guessed at the trouble.
“Do not worry, Lady Penden,” she said. “He will learn to obey. Have you selected his foster house yet?”
When Cantia looked at her, Val swore she saw tears. But Cantia quickly lowered her gaze, refocusing on the wrappings. “Nay,” her voice was strangely tight. “He… he is still too young to foster.”
“Not necessarily,” Val said. “My brother was about Hunt’s age when he left for Kenilworth Castle to foster. Our father arranged for that when he was born. Tevin was gone for many years… I did not truly even come to know my brother until his return as a fully-fledged knight. He was eighteen years of age.”
Cantia’s head came up again. “He was gone for thirteen years?”
“Aye.”
Cantia left the bandages. Head hung, she went back over to the table and collected the things she had brought with her – more bandages, a bowl, a small knife to cut the cloth with. She piled them all in the bowl and moved for the door. But as she left, Val heard the distinct sound of stifled sobs. They only grew louder when the woman quit the room and thought she could no longer be heard. Val called out to her, twice, but the lady apparently did not hear her.
When Tevin entered the solar a short time later, he got an earful.
*
“My sister is afraid that she has upset you.”
Cantia was sitting at the well-scrubbed table in the great hall, alone up until Tevin walked into the room. He walked towards the table, slowly, his massive body moving with grace and ease. Cantia watched his approach, hoping there were no tears left on her cheeks but not wanting to be obvious by checking.
“She did not, my lord,” she said, eyes downcast. “I simply… that is to say, I am…”
Tevin plopped his enormous body on the tabletop right next to her. His right thigh was next to her arm and she instinctively pulled away. When she looked up, it was into glittering dark eyes.
“This evasiveness simply will not do,” he said flatly. “If you are upset, I would very much prefer you told me so that it is out in the open. You have been most kind and accommodating to us and I will not see you distressed over things that I would do all in my power to right. What did my sister do that upset you so?”
Cantia shook her head, struggling for courage. She even smiled, weak though it might be. “Any number of things can upset me these days, my lord. It matters not. I am a silly woman.”
“You are not,” his voice grew softer. “You have a great many things on your mind, and rightfully so. What was it my sister said that sent you from the room in tears?”
Cantia struggled with her brave front. “Nothing, my lord. We were simply speaking of my son and she asked me where he was to foster. I said… I said that we had not yet petitioned to foster him because….”
So much for the brave front. The tears returned and she struggled not to fall apart. Tevin was careful to resist his natural urge to physically comfort her in some way. Instead, he sat beside her on the bench, very close, and watched her wrestle with her composure.
“Because why?” he asked gently.
She sniffled into her hand. “Because he’s too young,” she finally blurted. “I have just lost my husband. I cannot fathom the thought of losing my son.”
So there it was. Against his better judgment, he took her free hand in his massive one, rubbing the fingers gently. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself.
“How old is Hunt?”
She squeaked as she spoke. “Five years.”
He fought off a smile. “Aye, he’s far too young still. You do not have to worry about sending him to foster for two more years at least.”
The hand came away from her eyes, the wet lavender orbs shimmering with emotion. “Why must I send him away at all? Why can he not stay here, with me, and learn to be a knight? Where is it written in law that he must be sent away?”
She was growing more grieved with each passing word. For lack of a better action, Tevin put his enormous arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, his cheek on the top of her head. I would do this for anyone rightfully distressed, he told himself. But he knew, deep down, that he would not. He had, in fact, never done it before. Now it seemed as if he was looking for any excuse to pull Lady Penden into his arms.
“There is no law that says a child must be sent away,” he said quietly. “But the purpose of being sent away to foster is to learn skills and knowledge from those who are not your family. It is a sharing of wealth and knowledge that builds strength of character in men. Wouldn’t you like your son to learn to be a knight from men who have traveled the world doing just that?”
She sniffled. “I don’t like it. I will not do it.”
He gave her a squeeze before he realized he did it. “Hush, now. There is no use in working yourself up over something that is a few years away. You’ll not lose your son any time soon, I promise.”
Her head came up, gazing at him with those magnificent eyes. “If I do not want to send him away, I do not have to, do I?”
“Nay.”
Only then did she seem to relax. Tevin realized almost too late that she was far too close. He could feel her breath on his face. With her wet eyes and sweet lips, he felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. The very thought startled him, distressed him, causing a violent outburst of contention within him. The woman was a new widow, grieving over the loss of her beloved husband. She was not a woman to be trifled with. Much to his dismay, however, she put her head back down, right onto his shoulder. He swore he felt her nestle against him. It was a damn sweet feeling.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said. “Your words bring me great comfort.”
“It is right that they should,” he said quietly. “I tell you the truth.”
Her reply was to lift her head, put a soft hand on his jaw, and tenderly kiss his cheek. Then she rose and was gone.
Tevin sat there for several long minutes, his heart thumping against his ribs and the spot on his face where she had kissed him blazing with sensation. As small a gesture as it was, as perfectly innocent, it was the most significant kiss of his life. He felt it down to his soul. And he knew, at that moment, that he was in a good deal of trouble.
But thoughts of trouble quickly fled when Myles entered the hall, his blue eyes fixing on his liege. He made straight for the table.
“I saw Lady Penden in the solar,” he said to Tevin. “She looks much better today. Have you spoken with her at all?”
Oh… yes, Tevin thought. “I have,” he said evenly. “She does seem much better, though now her distress seems to be with the thought of sending her son to foster.”
Myles brow furrowed. “What?” he sat down opposite Tevin. “What brought that up?”
“A conversation with someone apparently broached the subject,” Tevin replied. “I have spent the past several minutes attempting to convince her that it was far too soon to worry about sending her son away.”
Myles snorted, looking around the table to see if there was any ale or wine available. Seeing none, he summoned a servant. As the man went to do his biddin
g, Myles turned back to Tevin.
“I believe we may have more trouble on our hands, my lord,” he said. “I have just come from a most distressing exchange with Charles.”
Tevin was glad for the change in subject, even if it was about Charles. “What happened?”
Myles shook his head, with regret. “I fear his madness is gaining,” he said. “He was in the knight’s quarters not a half hour ago asking for a weapon.”
Tevin found he had little tolerance when it came to the madness of Charles Penden. “Before you continue, you should know that he struck Lady Cantia this morning. I was witness to it. I ordered him from the keep, not to return until my anger had cooled.”
Myles stared at him a moment in disbelief. “He struck her?” he repeated. “My God… Brac would have had his head. His father had always been inordinately jealous of Lady Cantia, mostly because she held Brac’s attention captive. Charles could never come to terms with the fact that he was not the center of his son’s world, just as Brac was the center of his. There are years of contention between Charles and Lady Cantia, all of it Charles’ fault.”
Tevin’s jaw flexed. “Then it would seem that the Lady Cantia needs to be protected from her father-in-law, for clearly, with Brac gone, he feels no need to hide his hostile feelings for her.”
A steward brought some wine and Myles poured himself a healthy measure. “I will be vigilant, my lord, have no doubt.”
“He does not resent the boy, does he?”
Myles took a large swallow of the tart red liquid. “He adores Hunt. He would never harm him.”
Though it was one less thing to worry over, Tevin was still disturbed that Lady Cantia would need protection from Brac’s insane father. “Back to your statement, then. Why was Charles asking for a weapon?”
Myles cast him a long glance. “He’s not in his right mind, my lord. He says much that he does not mean.”