Chapter Sixteen #2
Adam puffed out his cheeks and wiped a hand over his face.
“Thank you, Jax,” he said. “I have been anxious for this moment. You have eased my mind considerably. I very much wish for our families to be joined in marriage, but not with Cole and Audie. One of your daughters does not wish to marry John, do they?”
Jax grinned as Adam laughed. “Allie and Effie are spoken for,” he said. “Addie is… well, she is young. Mayhap too young for John. Why? Has he shown any interest in my daughters?”
“Nay,” Adam said. “But I thought I’d ask. There’s a young woman he has shown some interest in over in Carlisle. Helena is her name, the daughter of a rich merchant, but John is to inherit my titles and lands, so I was hoping for a better match than that.”
“He is getting older, Adam. Mayhap you’d better let him settle for the merchant’s daughter.”
“Mayhap.”
They sat a moment in silence, downing the rest of their wine as Jax thought on how he would break the news to Cole that Audrie de Longley was to marry another. That reminded him that he was to meet his son at the tavern in town, so he finished his wine and stood up.
“I am sorry to cut this short, but I have an appointment to keep,” he said. “Thank you for the wine and the conversation. We should not let so much time pass between visits.”
Adam stood up. “It is my fault,” he said. “I will make more of an effort to visit you and your lovely wife. I know my own wife would like that. She thinks highly of Kellington.”
Jax smiled gratefully. “As do I,” he said. “I will see you on the morrow.”
“We’ll teach the Scots a thing or two, won’t we?”
“Indeed, we will.”
Quitting the tent, Jax headed out into the night, in the direction of the gently glowing town in the distance.
“You were very thoughtful to do this,” Corisande said as she stood in the door of her newly rented room. “I almost feel guilty that I left Gaia back in the encampment. Almost.”
Cole was standing in the doorway, too, grinning as the tavernkeeper’s wife finished with the last details of the room, making sure the fire was banked and the bed had enough warm covers on it. She looked anxiously at Corisande.
“Will ye be wanting a bath?” she asked.
Corisande hesitated, not wanting to sound demanding, but Cole spoke up for her.
“Bring her one,” he said. “Quickly, now.”
Before Corisande could stop the woman, she fled the chamber and left Corisande standing there in uncertainty.
“You did not have to do that,” she said. “I do not require a bath. Truly, Cole, the bed is quite enough.”
He leaned against the doorjamb, a smile playing on his lips. “For what you are about to face for the next few days, let me provide what comfort I can for you,” he said. “Please. I want to.”
Corisande set her satchel on the bed. “You are very thoughtful,” she said. “But I have told you that I have faced battle before, Cole. I know what is coming. I am under no illusions that it will be pleasant.”
He simply nodded his head, averting his gaze because he didn’t want to say what he’d already said to her, too many times.
In truth, he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to fight a battle and think only of his own safety when he knew she was somewhere nearby, dealing with the results of that horror.
Men who had been maimed and punctured would be coming under her care, her sweet and wonderful care, and that was so much to ask of a woman. Any woman, much less “his” woman.
But there was no use butting heads with her. He didn’t want their last few hours together to be those of conflict.
“Shall I wait for you in the common room while you wash?” he asked.
Corisande looked at him, seeing that he wouldn’t look at her.
He was looking at his feet. He sounded subdued, an unusual mood for him, and she knew it was because they’d ventured onto the subject of battle again.
It was the only thing that dampened the man’s emotions when it came to her.
She was about to say something to him, but the tavernkeeper’s wife rushed in with a copper pot and a stool.
She was followed by two serving women lugging buckets of steaming water.
Corisande stood back as the woman set the copper pot next to the hearth and put the stool in it as the serving women dumped the water into it.
“I’m sorry that I can’t offer ye a proper bath,” the woman said as the water splashed in. “All we have is the smaller bath that ye sit in.”
Corisande smiled. “That is perfectly fine,” she said. “Thank you for bringing it.”
The woman nodded nervously, eyeing Cole as she shooed the serving women out of the chamber. Water dripped from their spent buckets as they fled, leaving a drippy path behind them. Cole continued to stand in the doorway, still looking at his feet, and Corisande put her hands on her hips.
“Well?” she said.
He looked up at her. “Well what?”
“Are you going to let me wash with the door open?”
He looked around as if to realize what she was saying before pushing himself off the doorjamb.
“I will leave you to your bath,” he said. “I do not mean to rush you, but my father will soon be joining us.”
Without a word, Corisande went to him, pulled him into the chamber, and shut the door. She then directed him over to a table next to the hearth, pushing him down into a chair.
“Sit,” she said. “You can keep me company while I bathe.”
He frowned. “I will do no such thing,” he said indignantly, standing up. “I did not procure this chamber so that I could participate in clandestine activities with you, so I will see you down in the common room.”
He was already moving for the door, but her soft voice stopped him.
“Stay with me,” she begged softly. “Cole… I do not wish to be morbid, but you are facing battle tomorrow. If… if something terrible happens, at least give me a memory of tonight to reflect on. At least give me the illusion of something sweet and simple, just for tonight, to keep with me always. I would be… grateful.”
He paused with his hand on the door latch before turning to look at her. It was against his better judgment because he knew that once he looked at her, he would not be able to leave. And he needed to leave.
He lifted his eyebrows.
“If your brothers catch me here while you are bathing, I will have worse things than a battle to worry about,” he said sternly. “Four seasoned knights doing battle against each other is like nothing you’ve ever seen, Cori. They will try to kill me and I will have to defend myself.”
“They will not try to kill you.”
“I will be forced to seriously disable all of them and we need them for tomorrow.”
“Then go,” she said, turning her back on him and going to the corner of the room where a privacy screen was propped against the wall.
It was worn, three lightweight panels of wood that had once been painted vibrant colors, and she pulled it away from the wall.
“Go down to the common room while I spend this time alone. You must do what you feel is right, of course.”
He rolled his eyes. “I do not want to go, but…”
“I want you to go. Get out.”
He shook his head faintly, trying not to chuckle because she was becoming petulant and dramatic. “Confound it, Woman, stop being so cantankerous,” he said, stepping back into the chamber and shutting the door. “There. I am here. I am starting to think this is a plot for your brothers to murder me.”
“If there was a plot, you would already be dead,” she said crisply.
“Says you.”
Corisande made a face at him as she propped up the privacy screen between the tub and the rest of the chamber.
It started to fall over but Cole grabbed it swiftly, setting it up properly as she turned for her satchel behind her.
She pulled out soap that smelled of lavender, a comb, and a sleeping shift.
On the other side of the screen, Cole sat down again, removing his gloves and removing the belt that held his broadsword.
Both ended up on the bed as he propped his feet up.
A sigh of relaxation escaped his lips.
“Well?” he said. “What do you wish to speak of now that I am here, in this very dangerous position?”
Corisande fought off a grin as she began to pull off her clothing. The apron and broadcloth dress went up and over the privacy screen, hanging there.
“We can speak of many things,” she said. “For example, where shall we live once we are married?”
“Foulburn Castle,” he said promptly, looking around to see if there was anything to drink in the chamber.
“It is my garrison, a property my father has given to me, as his heir. My father is Baron Blackadder, you know. The king gave him that title. There is a courtesy title that comes with it of Lord Lambden, which is mine, though I do not use it. But if you like, I shall start using it and you can be Lady Lambden.”
“Lady Lambden,” she said, rolling it over on her tongue. “That sounds very nice. Tell me of Foulburn. Is it large?”
“Large enough,” he said, realizing that he could see her silhouette through the screen because the wood was so thin.
With the fire behind her, he could see every move.
“It sits on a rise overlooking a small river called Foulburn, hence the name. My father keeps about a hundred men there, as a garrison, so the Scots will not try to take it over.”
“Odd that you should not remain there since it is your property,” she said. “Does your father demand you remain with him at Pelinom?”
“Nay,” Cole said. “I have the freedom to choose where I serve.”
“So you live and serve at Pelinom and leave your own property vacant?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. He knew she wasn’t being nosy, simply asking normal and natural questions of a man she would marry, but the subject of what he actually did with his time had come up.
She still didn’t know that he served The Marshal, so he thought that now was perhaps the time for total truth.
As Lady de Velt, or Lady Lambden, it would be her right to know.