Chapter Nine #3
The answer was more complicated than that, but she simply nodded. “Aye.”
“Then you must be de Nerra’s wife.”
She cocked her head. “You ask many questions.”
He lifted his big shoulders. “As I said, I saw you in the lists. And, I also saw you in town earlier in the day. If I do not ask questions, how am I to discover anything about you?”
Her brow furrowed. “Why would you want to know anything about me?”
He laughed softly. “Why wouldn’t I? Such beauty is rare. Are you married then, my lady?”
“That is none of your affair.”
It was Braxton’s voice. He suddenly appeared out of the darkness with Brooke, Norman and a limping Edgar behind him.
His expression was as hard as iron, the blue-green eyes that could be so soft were like shards of glass.
Gray had never seen that expression on his face before.
Braxton walked up beside her, sizing up Niclas; though the tournament champion was at least a head taller, Braxton was clearly nothing to be trifled with. He was enormously muscled and powerful.
Niclas knew of de Nerra; almost all fighting men did.
Rumors and legends of the mercenary abound in the north.
More than that, de Aughton’s sworn House was none other than Braxton’s own father, Baron Gilderdale.
He was surprised Braxton did not know that, or at least, acknowledge it.
He’d never met the earl’s youngest son before, however, and their first introduction was rather awkward.
De Aughton dipped his head in acknowledgement, in respect, though his eyes had lost none of their black glimmer.
“My apologies,” he said steadily. “I did not know. I meant no insolence to the lady, or to you.”
Braxton just stared at him. Gray could sense the tension and she was uncomfortable. She did not want Braxton getting into an altercation with this knight. She put her hand on his arm.
“I was looking for you and came across Sir Niclas instead,” she said evenly. “He has been most kind. Shall we return to camp now?”
Braxton’s gaze lingered on Niclas a moment longer before looking at Gray.
“I am sorry you had to go looking for me,” he took her hand, possessively, and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.
“The children were hungry and could not wait for the pig. I got them something to hold them over until sup.”
A glance at Brooke, Norman and Edgar showed the three of them eating hunks of brown bread. Brooke had something else in her hand, though Gray could not see what it was. She lifted an eyebrow at Braxton.
“I told you not to coddle her,” she said in a low voice. “What did you buy her this time?”
He was defiant and penitent at the same time. “Bread and some kind of candied fruit. I had to pound on four or five stalls before I could find someone who would let us in.”
Gray closed her eyes and shook her head. Braxton, not waiting for the rebuke that was sure to come, waved an arm at the children.
“Come along,” he told them. “Back to camp.”
The three of them scampered past him, although one was limping badly. He started to follow when he heard Gray’s soft voice.
“Thank you for not allowing me to come to harm, Sir Niclas,” she said. “And congratulations on your victory today.”
Niclas thought he had been forgotten and was mildly surprised at the lady’s words. “My pleasure, my lady,” he said. “And my wishes for recovery to the injured knight.”
Braxton did not acknowledge the man as Gray smiled weakly in response. They continued on towards the camp in silence, though Gray kept stealing sidelong glances at him. He was distant and cold.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked softly.
He looked at her. “For what?”
“For speaking with that knight?”
He shook his head. “I am to blame. I should have told you where I was going so that you would not go looking for me.”
She was on to him. “But you did not tell me so that I would not stop you from spoiling Brooke as I’d asked you not to.”
He refused to look at her, but a smile broke through. “That is beside the point. The issue is that it is not safe for you to wander outside of my protection. Men like de Aughton can be less than chivalrous to a lone lady.”
“Really?” she turned to look at the spot where they had left Niclas; he was predictably gone. “He did not seem threatening.”
“He was not; at least, not at that moment. But he has interest in you.”
“Me?” she seemed genuinely puzzled. “Why do you say that?”
He looked at her as if she was a simpleton. “He asked if you were married, Gray. It does not require great intellect to figure out that he was inquiring for his own interest.”
She continued to peer at him, studying his expression. It occurred to her that she had never had two men interested in her at one time; at least, not like this. It was an oddly proud and humbling awareness. But something more occurred to her as she gazed at Braxton.
“You are jealous?” It was a statement more than a question.
They had reached the great fire where the pig sizzled and spit over the open flame. He turned to her.
“Call it what you will. You belong to me and I would have every man in England know it.”
She smiled at him, her amber eyes reflecting the dancing firelight. “You needn’t worry, Braxton,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t even dream of looking at another man.”
His icy stance broke somewhat. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
“Then I have your attention.”
“You have all of it and more.”
The harsh manner faded completely and his smile broke through. “To be honest, I was not sure. You are a beautiful woman, after all, and I am….”
He didn’t finish and she lifted an eyebrow. “You are… what?”
He lifted his big shoulders. “I simply meant that there are better prospects out there than me.”
She shook her head. “Not to me there isn’t. You are more than I could have dreamed of.”
It was a sweet moment. He took her hand and kissed it in full view of the youngsters.
Brooke and the boys pretended not to notice, still stuffing their faces with bread, though Brooke was understandably curious.
It was the first time she had ever seen her mother smile like that.
She was glad her mother was distracted, as it would make her forget that Brooke had, once again, coerced treats from Braxton.
Moreover, Braxton seemed to have a way of dealing with her mother that made the woman forget everything else.
Even at her young age, Brooke could see that.
Gray and Braxton disappeared into the tent where Geoff lay, leaving the others by the fire.
The pig continued to steam and smoke into the night, filling the air with a delicious smell.
By the time it was finished, everyone was ravenous and the animal came apart in big pieces.
Brooke and Edgar ate until they were sick and Gray found herself tending not only an injured knight but a nauseous daughter.
In the distant camp, obsidian eyes continued to watch the crimson glow of the de Nerra tents as outlined by the great campfire.
Pensive thoughts became decisive ones. He’d seen the lady earlier in the day when he’d nearly run her down on the street.
He had been struck by her beauty even though she was clearly in the company of a knight he later found out to be Braxton de Nerra.
At the tournament, he had seen her sitting in the stands, a radiant bit of loveliness surrounded by the dregs of society.
He would have asked for her favor had de Nerra not hovered around her like an over eager schoolboy.
It was obvious that she was de Nerra’s woman, though he could not be sure if they were married.
He suspected that they were not. That morsel of information was the one piece he had been looking for.
If she wasn’t married, then there was still a chance.
Even if it did risk the wrath of de Nerra.
Niclas was not an evil man. He was not manipulative or ruthless, at least not in the matters of men and women. But he had always been a man who got what he wanted, and tonight he knew exactly what he wanted.