Chapter Five #3
There were a few men working on the collapsed oven, now almost completely rebuilt.
Braxton did not see her anywhere in the kitchen area and moved out towards the stables.
There were several laborers working to restore a damaged section and also to build an addition.
Additionally, they were framing the stable for several more stalls and a loft.
Braxton checked the chicken coop and, on a whim, entered the part of the stables that the men were not working on. It was empty.
He turned to leave and almost ran over Brooke. She was standing behind him, her round face smiling up at him. He reached out to steady her as he bumped into her.
“My lady,” he said. “My apologies. I did not see you.”
“I know,” she replied. “I followed you in here.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to talk to you.”
“I see,” he casually stepped away from her, leaning against the nearest post. “What is so important?”
Brooke took a step towards him, closing the gap he had so carefully established. “Well… it is hard to describe.”
“What is hard to describe?”
She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “Me. And you.”
He didn’t particularly like the sound of that. “What about me and you?”
She took another step, ending up very close to him. “You do not have to pretend any longer. I can see it in your eyes.”
“See what?”
“What you feel for me, of course.” She was suddenly pressed against him, her hands on his big arm.
“I saw it the first day we met, Braxton. I felt it when you saved my life. Oh, I know you told my grandmother that you had no intention of marrying, but why else would you come back to Erith with gifts? I know it is because you are interested in me.”
He moved away from the post, trying to put some distance between him and her. “My lady,” he said evenly. “What I told your grandmother was true. Though I am flattered, I clearly have no intentions towards you.”
She was following him. “You do not have to pretend any longer, darling. I would be most pleased to call you husband. I am young and strong and can bear you many strong sons.”
Braxton was backing out of the stable. Brooke threw herself forward, her arms wrapped around his neck like a noose.
“You must control yourself,” he said sternly, trying to pry her arms off of him. “This is not appropriate behavior for a young woman.”
“Kiss me,” Brooke begged, making sucking noises with her lips and aiming for his mouth. “Kiss me, my darling. I know you want to.”
She was strong for a young girl. Braxton was trying to pull her off of him but he didn’t want to hurt her. “Let go, Brooke.”
“I will not. You want me. Kiss me!”
Off to his right he heard a strange noise, something that sounded like a gasp.
By the time he turned around, Gray was marching up on the two of them with some kind of farm implement in her hand.
Braxton’s hands were trying to restrain Brooke and he was unable to defend himself when Gray swung the wooden stick at his head.
Stars burst before his vision and he fell onto his back, hovering between consciousness and unconsciousness. Stunned but not senseless, he rolled to his left, away from the second strike that landed very close to him. He could hear Brooke screaming.
“Mama!” she shrieked. “No!”
“You… you beast,” Gray swung the wooden implement one last time, missing him by a wide margin.
As Braxton struggled to get to his feet, she wielded the pitchfork like a weapon.
“Braxton de Nerra, you are a despicable, horrid creature and I want you out of here. Take your gifts and your food and leave my fortress immediately.”
His ears were ringing and the world rocked.
As his vision cleared, he saw Brooke’s fearful face, Gray’s angry one, and Constance standing just behind her daughter.
For some reason, he found himself focused on the old woman.
He did not like the expression on her face. But his attention moved back to Gray.
“My lady,” he said. “You are gravely mistaken if you think…”
“Stop it,” she hissed at him. “I will hear no more from you. I trusted you and you lied to me.”
“What?”
Gray kept the pitchfork between them. “My mother told me what you did.” She was suddenly bordering on tears; he could see it in her face. “How could you do that?”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but his gaze moved back to Constance. He has a suspicion that whatever Gray was thinking came from her mother. A dark wave of realization swept him.
“What did I do, Gray?” he asked softly. “What are you talking about?”
Tears welled in her eyes. She looked so very hurt. Behind her, Constance stood cold and silent. Damn the woman; he knew something awful had come from her lips.
“The contract,” Gray almost whispered. “My mother told me. Do not try to deny it. That is why you went to Wenvoe, to buy my daughter and my castle.”
“I bought the contract because Wenvoe wanted me to lay siege to Erith to claim both the castle and your daughter. I bought it to spare you. Did you not know that your husband had promised him both Brooke and the fortress in payment for his debt to Wenvoe?”
“I did,” she said hoarsely. “But Wenvoe promised he had no interest in either. He said he would not hold Brooke or I responsible for Garber’s disgrace.”
“He had no interest until your mother started sending out invitations to vie for Brooke’s hand.”
“Do not listen to him, Gray,” Constance entered the conversation. “He has been plotting since the beginning. He owns Brooke, and he owns Erith. He has been sending out solicitations of marriage to sell off your daughter and the castle.”
So that’s what this was about. The old bitch had turned on him, gaining an upper hand with her lies and deceit. He had underestimated her. Braxton struggled to keep his composure as he faced Constance.
“That, Lady de Montfort, is a lie. You were the one who sent out the solicitations of marriage, not I.”
“See how he tries to defend himself?” Constance gripped her daughter’s arm.
“He is a mercenary, Gray. All he cares about is money. He bought Erith and Brooke for a price. Now he intends to secure a fine return on his investment by selling them both off. Why do you think he is fixing up the fortress? ’Twill make it much more attractive to a future husband. ”
It was purely amazing how so slight a woman could be so evil. Braxton knew, even as he stared at her, that he was fighting a losing battle. He never knew his heart was capable of breaking, but at the moment, he suspected it was well on its way. He looked at Brooke, cowering beside her mother.
“Lady Brooke,” he said steadily. “Perhaps you can straighten this out. Did you not, in fact, tell me that your grandmother was plotting behind your mother’s back to marry you off?”
Brooke’s eyes widened. She looked at her mother, her grandmother, and visibly shrank. Her head began to wag back and forth.
“I… I did not say,” she said.
“The day I met you near the falls of Erith, you did not tell me this?”
“I… I do not remember.”
Braxton was not surprised by her denial.
He put a hand to his forehead, wiping away the trickle of blood from the crack Gray had given him.
He knew he would never be able to convince Gray that both her mother and daughter were lying to her.
He did not blame her; they were her family and she had known them a lifetime.
She had only known him a few short days.
A few short, miraculous days. He could not believe it was all coming to so tragic an end.
The only person who could validate his statement was too afraid to do so.
Brooke was only a child, caught up in an adult game.
He didn’t blame her either. In fact, it was no one’s fault but his.
He should have told Gray about the situation the moment he had returned to Erith.
He should have been the first one to come out with the truth about what had transpired with Wenvoe.
But he hadn’t; as he’d told Constance, Gray was just learning to trust him.
He did not want to ruin that. But his silence, and his conversation with a shrewd old woman, had cost him dearly. He should have been smarter about it.
“Then I would suspect there is nothing more I can say to my defense,” he said after a moment. His gaze lingered on Gray; she looked positively miserable. “I will clear out my men before nightfall.”
He went to move past the women, giving them a wide birth. Gray called out to him.
“Your gifts and food stores will be brought to the bailey,” she said.
He paused, meeting her gaze. “No need, my lady. They were gifts. I do not expect them returned, nor would I want them. They were meant only for you.”
With that, he turned and walked away. Gray stood there, pitchfork still in hand, feeling heavy sobs bubbling within her chest. The pitchfork came down and tears spilled onto her cheeks.
“Mama…” Brook began softly.
“Go,” Gray threw the wooden implement down and turned away from her daughter and mother. “Just… go. Leave me alone.”
Constance took Brooke by the hand and led her off.
She had come out on top of the situation and did not feel the need to linger over her victory.
The knight had challenged her authority and had lost both the battle and the war as a result.
She would never let a low-born knight to get the better of her, no matter how wealthy or powerful.
It was over now; she would leave her daughter to deal with it.