Chapter One #2
“Who is your brother?”
Luke took a long drink from his mug. “The great and mighty Matthew Wellesbourne, favored of the king.” He leaned near her, enough so that she instinctively tilted away from him.
“Have you heard of The White Lord of Wellesbourne? Well, that would be him. But if you are thinking of inviting him to our table, do not bother. He is greatly troubled today. He would be horrible company.”
The White Lord of Wellesbourne. She’d known that name for half of her life and the realization took her breath away. But how was it possible that he was here, now? He was supposed to be at Wellesbourne Castle; but then again, so was she.
Alixandrea stared at the dark figure, trying to get a better look. Although she thought she may have an inkling of the answer to her question, she asked anyway. “What is his trouble?”
“His wife is coming to Wellesbourne.”
“And this is a bad event, I take it?”
“Aye,” Luke took another drink. “Well, she is not exactly his wife. She is his betrothed. They were promised to each other years ago but he had been putting her off until her uncle laid his claim and told my father that if Matthew put off the marriage again, there would be serious consequences. So now, he is forced. He has come here to drown his sorrows in ale and wenches.”
Alixandrea lifted an eyebrow, nodding her head slowly as if in complete sympathy. “My goodness,” she said. “How utterly awful. Is his betrothed so terrible, then?”
Luke shrugged. “We do not know. But, then again, most noble women are some manner of terrible. But she comes with a large dowry and four hundred soldiers, so she must be worth something, eh?”
He laughed at his statement. Alixandrea smiled thinly. “Aye, she must be worth something,” she agreed.
Luke licked the ale from his lips, his gaze steady upon her. “I am sure that if my brother had a wife like you, there would be nothing horrible about it. I would take you without four hundred fighting men and a sizable dowry.”
He meant it as a compliment but it only served to further insult her.
“How fortunate for me,” she said, grossly tired of his company.
The rolling carriage was starting to look inviting and she was suddenly desperate to leave.
“If you will excuse me, Sir Luke, I will take my leave and continue my journey. Thank you for your company and fine conversation.”
Luke put a hand on her arm, preventing her from rising. “You cannot leave so soon,” he begged. “I do not even know your name.”
Now it was her turn to smile, an ironic gesture. “I believe you already know it.”
He blinked at her. “I do? Pray, lady, if thy name is Angel, then I do.”
She stared at him, unwavering. “I have four hundred soldiers outside waiting for me as well as a sizable dowry. I am on my way to Wellesbourne Castle to marry my betrothed. Now, can you still say that you do not know my name?”
Luke’s intoxicated blue eyes met her gaze for a long moment before gradually dissolving into an expression of horror.
“You…?” He pushed back in his chair and ended up toppling it onto its side. Luke was on his feet, babbling as he struggled to overcome his drunkenness. “My lady, I did not know. Forgive me, please. I had no idea.”
She stood up, a small lady compared to the sizable knight. But her expression was the most powerful thing in that room at the moment.
“Either you are a complete fool or your brother truly has no sense of propriety that he would allow you to speak so,” she snarled.
“How many other people have you told that ridiculous story to? How many people will travel from this place spreading the tale of the heir of Wellesbourne’s hideous betrothed? ”
“No one, my lady, I swear it.” He bellowed in the general direction of his brother. “Matt! A little help, please?”
By this time, Matthew heard the raised voices and glanced up to see Luke on his feet with the lady advancing on him. He’d seen her when she’d entered the inn, just like everyone else and, like everyone else, had been momentarily entranced by her ethereal beauty.
But he had no inclination to pursue her further and allowed Luke to behave as Luke was so capable of behaving. Now he was wondering what his brother had said to make the lady turn on him.
Matthew was far enough away that he had not heard their conversation although he had heard his brother’s loud pleas for help.
But he shook his head in response, turning back to his fourth cup of ale.
Luke saw that his brother did not understand the severity of the situation and he made haste over to his table.
“Matt,” he hissed. “Did you not hear me? We have… trouble!”
He was pointing at the lady. Matthew looked over at her again, a delicious goddess with porcelain skin. “What trouble could that be? Let me guess; she is a Tudor wench and you have seriously insulted both her loyalties and her parentage.”
Alixandrea heard the “wench” portion and came to a halt. Luke shook his head, sickened at the course the conversation had taken.
“Nay,” he whispered, hoping his brother would not take his head off for his stupidity. “She is your betrothed.”
Matthew was lingering over his cup, his gaze distant.
But the moment Luke spilled the words, his blue eyes took on the most peculiar look.
It was as if he had suddenly become frozen, unable to think or move.
One could literally see his fingers stiffening with tension and Luke was terrified that his brother was going to suddenly snap.
Instead, he blinked his eyes in a slow, reptilian motion. It was a frightening gesture.
“Do you know this for a fact?” he asked steadily.
“I do.”
“Did she tell you?”
“She said she has four hundred soldiers and a sizable dowry waiting for her outside, and that she is on her way to Wellesbourne Castle to marry her betrothed.”
Matthew continued to sit immobile. Luke wasn’t even sure if his brother was breathing. Finally, Matthew cast a long glance at his brother before looking to the lady.
She stood in the middle of the room, a vision of ruby and lustrous hair. She had the most beautiful face he had ever seen, delicate and sweet, yet with a hint of wisdom that was difficult to describe.
A cursory examination of the lady showed him absolutely no physical flaws as far as he could tell. But the expression she held was of indignant outrage, tempering his reaction to her presence.
“What did you say to her?” he asked his brother.
Luke was glad he was out of arm’s range. He did not want a massive fist to come flying at him. “I… I told her that you were terrible company because you were awaiting the arrival of your betrothed whom you did not want to marry.”
“Is that all?”
Luke winced, closing his eyes. “I said awful things.”
“How awful?”
“She hates us, I know it.”
Matthew did not want a fight on his hands from the onset. In fact, gazing at the lady, he wasn’t sure he wanted a fight at all. He was rather taken aback by what he saw. The only appropriate thing to do was face her.
Matthew rose from his chair slowly, like the phoenix rising from the ashes, a massive man with equally massive shoulders on which to bear the weight of a kingdom. Everything about him reeked of power and command as his presence, once seated and inconspicuous, now filled the entire room.
It was a gesture not lost on Alixandrea.
In fact, she had to suppress the urge to back away.
She’d never seen such a sizeable man, even though he was in full armor which made him appear even larger.
To her credit, she stood her ground as he approached.
When he came within a few feet of her, he stopped.
“Lady Alixandrea?” he asked.
“I am the Lady Alixandrea,” she not too subtly corrected the pronunciation of her name, Alix-ahn-dray-a, so that he would know for future reference. “And you are Sir Matthew?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Aye,” his deep voice was without force. “Forgive me, my lady. This is not how I had planned our first meeting.”
Her lovely lips turned up at the corners cynically. “From what I understand, were it left up to you, there would be no first meeting at all. Just how did you plan it?”
Matthew could only imagine what his foolish brother had told her. Awful things. Unless Matthew wanted this marriage to be strained and conflicting from the beginning, he had to make amends. He had to undo the damage that Luke had done.
“Certainly not in a tavern with my brother drunk and me well on my way,” he said. “I had hoped to meet you at Wellesbourne in the great hall where the appropriate introductions would take place.”
She cocked her head slightly, studying him; he was a handsome man, not obviously beautiful, but in a rugged, masculine sort of way that was both powerful and intriguing.
His pale blond hair was shorn tight against his scalp, curly and coarse.
He had enormous blue eyes, a square jaw and gentle-looking features that were oddly out of place for a man of his fierce reputation.
His ears even stuck out a little, giving him an inherently human quality.
But in that quality was something innately calm, although she knew that he was one of the most fearsome knights in the realm.
He had been with King Richard on many campaigns against Henry Tudor’s forces and had proven himself without question.
She’d been hearing tales of The White Lord of Wellesbourne since she had been ten years old. It was a long time to hear of a legend.
So the man did not want to be married. There was no great crime in that.
But she was disappointed. Somehow she had hoped that he would have longed to know her just as she had longed to know him.
Her uncle had filled her with fairy tales of the man.
Matthew had apparently been filled with horror stories of her.