Chapter Ten #3
He shrugged, his eyes moving out over the compound. “These are mercenaries,” he said. “They do not conform to the rules of propriety. If they see something they want, they take it. With me gone, they may be bolder than usual.”
Allaston didn’t like that thought in the least. “Then I will go to my chamber and lock it until you return,” she said. “I do not want to give anyone the opportunity to do me harm.”
He looked at her, then. “That may be wise,” he said. “I should only be a few days at the most. You can keep yourself occupied until then.”
She nodded firmly, eyeing the soldiers on the walls with great suspicion.
“There is much I can do,” she said. “I have a good deal of sewing to be done. By the way, it would seem that I am almost out of thread and I do not have the means here to make any. If Newtown is big enough, there should be a merchant who carries all manner of sewing goods. Can you please purchase some thread?”
He looked at her as if she had gone mad. “Purchase thread?” he repeated, insulted. “Surely you jest. I will do no such thing.”
“Then I will not be able to mend the things you have given me.”
He scowled at her. “You can make your own thread.”
She met his scowl. “Gladly,” she said. “If I had a spinning wheel and raw wool, I could easily do it, but I do not have any of those things. Therefore, you will have to buy the thread.”
He eyed her, unhappy. “I will not,” he said. “You can buy it.”
“How can I buy it? I have no money and no opportunity.”
He shook his head as if he thought the entire situation ridiculous. “You will indeed have the opportunity because you are coming with me,” he said, turning away. Then, he began muttering. “Thread buying. What a preposterous suggestion.”
She heard him muttering and fought off a grin. She was coming to suspect he didn’t think it ridiculous so much as it was an affront to his masculinity. It was rather humorous to watch him mutter to himself.
“You can always steal it,” she suggested exaggeratedly. “Just knock his walls down and take as much thread as you can grab in one handful. It should not be hard for a man with your talents.”
He looked at her as if she had grievously insulted him. The look on his face alone made Allaston break down into laughter. She couldn’t help it.
“Do you think to taunt me?” he demanded without force.
She shrugged. “Mayhap, just a bit.”
He was still frowning at her greatly, but it was all for show. He was in danger of breaking a smile. Allaston could see it. He finally wiped a hand over his mouth and scratched his face to mask it.
“Go inside and collect a cloak and anything else you might need for the journey,” he said, trying to be gruff but it wasn’t coming out very convincingly. “Do not delay. I do not have time to waste waiting for you.”
Allaston grinned at him, gathered her skirt, and scurried back into the keep.
Bretton watched her, and only her, until she disappeared.
Even after she was gone he found he could think of little else but he did manage to send a soldier to the stables to saddle a horse for her.
As she packed and the horse was being saddled, he made his way over to the cluster of soldiers waiting for him.
Dallan, Teague, and Grayton were among the group and he sought them out.
“It would seem that Lady Allaston will be accompanying me to Newtown,” he told his commanders. “It makes more sense this way, Dallan. You will not have to worry over her and I can keep her in my protection. Cloryn will be female-free.”
Dallan nodded but didn’t say what he was thinking.
In fact, they were all thinking the same thing and had been for a while.
It seemed to them that Lady Allaston had been on Bretton’s mind more than she should have been, and not in a way that made them comfortable.
It wasn’t so much in his words but in how he behaved towards her.
She was becoming less and less a prisoner and more and more an object that evidently had much free reign.
Somehow, she had bewitched the man. As Dallan simply nodded, Grayton was braver and spoke up.
“She does not need to go with you,” he said. “I can return her to the vault. She’s a prisoner, after all. She should not be running about here freely as it is.”
Bretton took the comment as a direct challenge to his authority right away. With this nasty band of cutthroats and murders, he had learned to be on his guard, always, even with his commanders. He looked at Grayton, the bright blue eyes poised for a fight.
“You were the one that told me to treat her with more courtesy,” he said, hardness in his tone. “You took her out of the vault when I had her there for three long weeks, and now you tell me she belongs there?”
Grayton could see that the man’s entire posture changed with that suggestion.
If he’d had any doubt before that Bretton had feelings for de Velt’s daughter, those doubts were now dashed.
He could see in an instant that Bretton had interest in the woman simply by the way he was acting.
The Bretton he knew would have dismissed him quickly rather than confront him.
He was defensive, a tale-tell sign. The situation went from one of polite conversation to one of hazardous intent fairly quickly.
“I was wrong,” Grayton said steadily, holding his ground. “She tried to kill you, Bretton. She has the same killer instincts that her father does. It is not safe for any of us to have her roaming the grounds freely. What if she poisons our food next? Have you thought of that?”
Bretton was surprised at just how furious he was that Grayton should verbally attack Allaston.
“Foolishness,” he hissed. “If she wanted to kill me, she could have easily done so when she knocked me unconscious with the fire poker, but she did not. I told you why she did it. She was attempting to escape.”
Grayton shook his head in a flustered gesture. “She is a prisoner,” he stressed. “She belongs in a locked chamber at the very least.”
“She stays to the keep and to the kitchen,” Bretton countered through clenched teeth. “That is what I told her to do and she has obeyed. Until she destroys that trust, I see no reason to lock her up.”
Grayton wasn’t satisfied with the answer. He knew there was more to it than Bretton was telling them. A preoccupied liege meant an uncertain situation. He didn’t want a change of plans, nobody did. Bretton had promised them wealth and power, and that was exactly what they wanted, woman or no.
“What happened to the man who killed a mother prioress to get to his victim?” he wanted to know. “You stopped at nothing to gain the daughter of your enemy and once she was in your grasp, you threw her in the vault and kept her there.”
“She would probably still be there if you didn’t demand I release her!”
“I was wrong! She belongs in that hole like the vermin that she is!”
Bretton balled a fist and hit Grayton squarely in the face, sending the man flying backwards.
Teague and Dallan stood back, holding back the collection of astonished soldiers, as Bretton loomed over Grayton as the man struggled on the ground.
When Grayton tried to sit up, Bretton hit him again, on the forehead, and the man went down for good. Bretton postured angrily over him.
“Right now, that woman serves a purpose,” he snarled. “Much like you, or any of my men, she now serves a purpose. She serves me. If you have issue with this, then keep it to yourself for I do not want to hear it. You will not question my decision again, is that clear?”
Grayton was half-unconscious but nodded. He also wisely remained on his back, looking up at Bretton with unfocused eyes.
“Aye,” he grunted.
Bretton wasn’t finished with him yet. “She is a valuable prisoner, as you once stated,” he growled. “If anyone moves against her, I will kill him. And I do mean anyone. Make sure that is well understood within the ranks.”
“Aye, Bretton,” Grayton replied.
Bretton loomed over the man angrily for a moment longer before standing up, coming into eye contact with both Teague and Dallan as he stood back from Grayton. He lifted his eyebrows at them.
“Do either of you have something to say about this?” he demanded.
The two warriors shook their heads, knowing now was not the time to express any concerns over the prisoner. But they, too, realized that their liege had some kind of feelings, or some sense of protectiveness, for de Velt’s daughter. It was a sensitive subject that bore watching.
“Nay,” Teague finally said. “But she should be much more careful about moving in the great hall. I have seen more than one soldier eye her rather hungrily. It would probably be best if she kept to the kitchen and the keep, for her own safety.”
Bretton was still furious about his confrontation with Grayton and struggled to calm the rage. Taking a deep breath, he nodded as he turned away from his men.
“I would agree,” he said, his tone considerably less hostile. “I will make sure she knows.”
They let the subject die as he went back over to his charger, pretending to check the connections and straps, when what he was really doing was evaluating his reaction against Grayton.
The man was his closest friend, someone he trusted implicitly.
Was it possible that he was correct and that de Velt’s daughter was truly a danger to them all?
He couldn’t honestly believe it but, then again, he had been having some very odd feelings where she was concerned.
He wondered if his men were seeing something he wasn’t, blinded by her beauty and kindness as he was.
The wait for Allaston wasn’t long. Within ten minutes of Bretton’s punch to Grayton, she came scurrying out of the keep with a small satchel in her hand.
She also had a cloak on, the same one she had been wearing since Grayton had given her all of those garments.
Brown, lined with rabbit fur, Allaston took great care of Lady Miette’s cloak.
As she approached Bretton, he pointed at the bag.