His movements slowed to a stop, but his arms remained around her, holding her so tightly that he squeezed the air from her. But Gray didn’t care; she was in a stupor, a haze of satisfaction such as she had never known. Braxton was all around her, his body still embedded within her. She never wanted to move from this state. She could hardly believe he belonged to her, and she to him. The hands came out of her mouth and wound around his neck, holding him as tightly as he was holding her. In this position, they fell into a deep, sated, dreamless sleep. It was a night to remember.
On the opposite side of the tent, Geoff lay there with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling and beads of sweat on his forehead. The night had been an evening for him to remember, too.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The morning broke heavy with mist. The fires from the previous night had burned into low, smoking embers that, by dawn, were being re-stoked by the soldiers.
Braxton left Gray sleeping soundly, having dressed with extreme quiet before quitting the tent. He emerged into the cold gray dawn to find Dallas standing near the larger of the fires. Smoke was heavy in the mist, clinging, as he approached his knight, now his son-in-law.
Dallas nodded as their eyes met. “My lord,” he greeted. “How does your lady wife fare this morning?”
Braxton eyed Dallas, a smile lurking on his lips as he recounted the night’s unbelievable passion. “Well enough,” he said. “Though she was terribly worried about her daughter last night. I trust all went well?”
Dallas’ demeanor moved from that of a professional soldier to one of a new bride groom. He lifted his eyebrows. “She stopped crying, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “I believe she slept well. She is still asleep.”
Braxton nodded his head as if that was enough answer to his question. But it wasn’t. “Everything… went well?”
Dallas knew what he meant. He looked at Braxton, a slightly confused expression on his features. “It seems rather strange now that you and I are related.”
“Aye, it does. In private, you will call me Braxton, as befitting my daughter’s husband. There is no need to be so formal.”
Dallas seemed rather pleased at the prospect, though it was still a bit odd to him. “As you wish,” he said. After a moment, he answered the original question. “I did not bed her if that’s what you are asking. She would not have taken that well at all. That is something that will come with time.”
Braxton drew in a deep breath. “You would be correct had you the luxury of time,” he looked pointedly at him. “But you do not. Suitors will be coming from now until Martinmas and you must consummate your marriage so there will never be any chance of an annulment or any other breach of contract. You married Brooke for a reason. Do I make myself clear?”
Dallas met his gaze, finally lifting his eyebrows in surrender. “You are right, of course,” he said. “But last night… that was not the night to do it.”
“It doesn’t matter. For her sake, you must do as you must. She will understand when she grows older.”
He nodded reluctantly. “As you say.”
“Before we leave for Erith, Dallas.”
“Aye.”
Silence settled between them like the fog, heavy and pensive. They stood and watched a couple of soldiers tease the embers into a roaring blaze and put water wine on to boil. Other soldiers were breaking down the camp and loading the wagons. Graehm approached from a cluster of trees to tell them that the men searching for de Aughton had returned empty handed. They had searched as far as Redmayne, several miles to the south, but had been unable to track the man. The knowledge made Braxton uneasy.
“He could not have simply disappeared,” he said. “He must be somewhere.”
“If he is, he is well hidden,” Graehm said. “We had some of our best trackers looking for him.”
Braxton’s blue-green eyes took on a distant look as his mind moved to the knight that had so boldly gone after Gray. “That may be, but they did not look in the right place.”
“What are you suggesting?”
He was silent a moment, contemplating. “If it were me, and knowing that I would be tracked, I would not try to run unless I had a very fast horse. And de Aughton was horseless. Moreover, we have all of his possessions with us – the saddlebags on his charger were filled with his money, clothes, and other items. He literally has nothing with him but the clothes on his back. So perhaps he’s not run. Perhaps rather than move away from us, he’s moved closer. Would you not want to recover what was rightfully yours?”
Graehm wasn’t following him, but Dallas was. “Do you think he’s watching us even now?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” Braxton shrugged. “Where is his horse and possessions?”
“The charger is tethered with the others and his possessions are with Graehm.”
Braxton nodded faintly, his mind still working on the possible whereabouts of the vanished knight. “As far as I know, the men did not search the vicinity of this camp. They spread out and started looking once they reached Milnthorpe. If De Aughton is watching us even now, it would be a very clever posture. He knows we would be looking elsewhere for him, not in our midst.”
Graehm looked stricken as it all suddenly made sense. “We should put an extra watch on his charger.”
“And on his possessions.”
Dallas suddenly broke away from them and marched for his tent. Braxton and Graehm watched him go. “Where are you going?” Braxton asked.
Dallas kept walking. He looked over his shoulder. “To rouse my wife and put her under my protection.”
Braxton had to agree with him. He, too, moved back for the larger tent where Gray was still sleeping. She was the target, after all, and with this latest development he was uncomfortable leaving her alone, even just a few feet away from him. He pushed back the tent flap, his eyes focusing on his new wife.
She was fully dressed, rolling up their pallet. When the flap moved, she looked up and her gaze locked with Braxton’s. His heart softened at the sight of her and he smiled broadly.
“Good morning, Lady de Nerra,” he went to her, putting his arms around her when she stood up to greet him. “Did you sleep well?”
She kissed him in greeting. “Better than I ever have,” she said softly, gazing into his eyes intently. “I do love sleeping in your arms.”
“And I love having you in them.”
She grinned and kissed him again. He responded with passion, with force, his mouth and tongue titillating hers. She pulled her lips away just to catch a breath, embracing him tightly.
“Oh, Braxton, how I do adore you,” she murmured.
He pulled back to look at her. His expression suggested disbelief and elation. After a moment, he cupped her face in his hands, the blue-green eyes glimmering.
“I adored you the moment I saw you wandering the Falls of Erith,” he told her as if she should have already known such a thing. “That adoration has turned into love and it grows stronger by the day.”
She was speechless, breathless. “You love me?”
His brow furrowed, but there was a smile on his face. “My God, woman, how could you think anything else?”
“Because… because you have never told me until now.”
He gently squeezed the face between his hands and kissed her on the end of her pert nose. “You are right. It is my most grievous mistake. I just thought you would know.”
“Then tell me again.”
His smile broadened. “I love you madly.”
She threw her arms around his neck, squeezing tightly. “And I love you also.”
It was a pivotal moment in a morning, and a night, that had been full of them. Braxton was so happy that he was nearly delirious, thoughts of Niclas de Aughton being pushed from his mind for the moment. With Gray finally his wife, how could there be a horrible thing in all the world? He spun her around, listening to her squeal. In spite of the warm moment, however, he did remember that he had come for a reason. He forced himself to fo
cus whether or not he wanted to.
“I did come with a purpose,” he took his arms off her, reluctantly. “We were unable to find de Aughton last night and I am uneasy with him on the loose. We need to return to Erith immediately.”
She looked slightly fearful before nodding. “Of course, Braxton. I was already packing up.”
He looked over at Geoff. “And we need to return Geoff to a decent room and warm bed,” he wandered over to his knight, realizing the man was awake and looking at him. Somewhat surprised, he knelt down beside him. “D’uberville, how long have you been awake?”
Geoff was moving and speaking slowly. “I am not entirely sure, my lord. Before you came into the tent, at least.”
So Geoff heard everything. He felt a flash of embarrassment, an instinctive reaction to revealing his most personal thoughts in front of a subordinate. No matter, though. She was his wife and they all knew he was mad about her.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
Geoff gingerly moved his arms, twisted his spine a little. “Sore.”
By this time, Gray was leaning over Braxton’s shoulder. She smiled down at her charge. “At least you have had no fever,” she said. “We are very grateful for that.”
Geoff’s green eyes focused on her, remembering the sounds of passion from her the night before and struggling not to let his thoughts show. “I owe everything to your skill, my lady.”
Her smile broadened in thanks and she switched places with Braxton so that she could take a look at Geoff’s bandage. Braxton left her alone with Geoff, going outside to find a couple of soldiers to start disassembling the tent. He ran right into Norman and Edgar, who had been out in the trees collecting more firewood.
He instructed the boys to stick with Lady de Nerra and help her however needed. Dropping the wood, the boys obediently went into the large tent to assist in the packing process. Braxton watched them disappear into the tent, his mind moving from his wife to de Aughton. He debated whether or not to personally make a sweep of the area; the more he thought on the knight’s movements, the more convinced he became that the man was somehow near them. It made sense. Part of him wanted to make a search, but most of him wanted to remain with Gray for her protection. He could not take the chance of de Aughton circumventing him somehow.
And that’s when he heard the scream.
Braxton bolted back into the tent in time to see de Aughton, as big as life, with his arms around Gray. Edgar had the man by the ankle while Norman rolled on his back several feet away; a bloodied face indicated a strike from de Aughton. Geoff, injured though he might be, was on his hands and knees, having rolled from his position on his back to his saddlebags several feet away. He had a sword in his hand but Braxton snatched it from him, all fury and fire and lightning-fast movements as he went after de Aughton. But the moment he brought the broadsword up for a strike that would clearly behead, de Aughton flicked a dirk against Gray’s neck.
“Another step and she dies,” Niclas growled. When fury and panic twitched through Braxton’s poised body, de Aughton jabbed the tip of the dirk into her neck and she gasped. “Another step and I drive this through.”
The broadsword in Braxton’s hand clattered to the ground. He stood several feet away, his face trembling with the level of emotion surging through his vein and the blue-green eyes fixed on de Aughton’s face. They were probing, furious, and finally pleading. After a moment, he sighed heavily.
“I had heard, by reputation, that you were an honorable knight,” he said in low, even voice. “I can see that those words were untrue. No honorable man would do what you are doing.”
Niclas had calmed a great deal since his initial burst of threats. He moved the dirk away from Gray’s neck and she closed her eyes in relief, tears coursing down her cheeks. She was frightened but unharmed. Braxton didn’t dare look at her for fear of losing control. And he had to stay in control; too many lives depended on it.
“These are brutal times, my lord,” Niclas finally said. “One must often take what does not come easily.”
“So you would take my wife?”
Niclas’s dark brow furrowed slightly. “So she is your wife? That was not made clear to me.”
Braxton nodded, looking at Gray’s face for the first time. It was wet with tears and he felt his heart lurch. His gaze was fixed on her as if he could not tear it away and his heart was beginning to squeeze. “Give her back to me, de Aughton, and I shall let you go in peace. There is no harm done for the moment unless you consider scaring her half to death a crime.”
Niclas lowered the dirk completely; it hung at his side but he still had Gray’s neck in the crook of his elbow. One good squeeze and he could snap it. The obsidian eyes looked at the top of her blond head, a queer expression crossing his face.
“I have never been denied what I have wanted,” he muttered. “A victory, a horse, a woman… I have always gotten what I wanted.”
“Not this time. By the laws of England and God, she is my wife and belongs to me. And I want her back more than you want to take her.”
More uncertainty crossed Niclas’s features. After a small eternity, it was he who sighed heavily. “And she wants to stay with you, I would imagine, which is why she nearly put my eyes out.”
“Exactly. Even if you were to take her, she would not be a content captive. She would escape you, or I would find her. Either way, we would be united again and you would either be dead or alone. Think about what you are doing, man. This is not the way to achieve your wants.”
Niclas just stood there. The dirk in his hand came up again, half way to Gray’s neck, as he toyed with the blade in a bizarrely thoughtful manner. By this time, Norman was up, his nose bloodied, standing by Braxton’s side and Edgar was over with Geoff. The injured knight was in bad shape as the young lad helped him back onto his pallet. Niclas caught the movement, remembering the knight he had injured in a fair joust. An odd sense of guilt, of disorientation, washed over him and he lowered the dirk to his side again.
The tension in the tent was unbearable. Braxton kept waiting for Niclas to bring the dirk up again and somehow threaten his wife. But the knight suddenly dropped his arm from Gray’s neck and she lurched forward, falling into Braxton’s waiting arms. He held her tightly. Niclas watched the interaction, the genuine affection to it, and it tugged at him. He would have liked to have had that, too.
“I thought she was simply a woman who traveled with your army,” Niclas’s voice was low, laced with acceptance. “I did not know she was your wife, de Nerra. I swear it. I thought she was a camp whore.”
Braxton’s eyes flashed. “Are you blind as well as daft? Does she look like a whore?”
Niclas shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Nay, she does not, which is why I wanted her. But when I asked her if she was your wife, she did not answer me.”
“Probably because she wasn’t at the time. But she is now and I have the witnesses and document to prove it.”
Niclas’s obsidian eyes widened briefly. Then he broke down into snorts. “Are you saying that somewhere within the past day, you married this woman?”
“Had you taken her to a priest first, it would be another story.”
Niclas shook his head with the irony of the situation. Then he looked at Braxton. “Fair enough, de Nerra. You won the prize.” He looked at Gray. “My lady, I am sorry to have harassed you. I saw you as something to be plucked for the taking, but I was wrong.”
Gray was still very frightened and very upset. Jerking herself from Braxton’s arms, she marched up to de Aughton, who was a good deal taller than she was, and swung at him with a balled fist. She caught him right in the nose. It was a surprising action for a normally very docile lady.
“That is for scaring the wits from me, you big dolt,” she squared off against him. “And the next time you fancy a lady, you would do far better to behave like a gentleman than a mindless beast.”
Niclas stood there with his hand on his nose; there was a
smear of blood on his fingers. “You are correct, of course. And may I say that you pack a mighty wallop, Lady de Nerra.”
She thrust her chin up at him. “Get out. Get out before I gouge your eyes again. And this time I will not miss my mark.”
Braxton, fighting off a grin, put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back from the enormous knight. He did not want her provoking de Aughton, although the man deserved worse than what he got. He passed her off to Norman, who put himself between the lady and the offending knight. Sweet, young Norman on the brink of manhood was fully prepared to protect the lady with his life.
“I will give you back your charger and your possessions and you may be on your way,” he said with more benevolence than he felt. “But I do not want to see you again, de Aughton. Not ever.”
Niclas nodded briefly. “That may be difficult, my lord, should you ever return to your father’s castle.”
Braxton’s expression didn’t change, but Gray looked confused. “His father’s castle?” she blurted. “Why do you say that?”
Niclas fixed on her, the obsidian eyes twinkling with misplaced mirth. “Because your husband’s father is Baron Gilderdale. I serve Gilderdale.”
Gray’s eyes widened. She looked to Braxton for confirmation but Braxton was fixed on Niclas. “You are my father’s knight?” he asked steadily.
“I have served him for four years, my lord.”
Braxton’s lips pressed into an ironic line. Lowering his gaze, he shook his head and began to wander around, looking for a place to sit. He settled on a three legged stool next to Geoff. His expression was infused with disbelief, sarcasm, and some disappointment. Gray watched him closely, not wanting to speak for she was not sure what to say. It was clear that he did not seem pleased.