Chapter Four #2
Thwarted, Shand took them to a small spiral staircase built into the corner of the keep and they moved to the second floor. This floor was divided into thirds with three chambers, and Shand went to a closed door, rapping on it. A soft voice answered.
“Who comes?”
Shand glanced at Patrick and Markus. “It is Shand, my lady.”
Before the woman could answer, there was a burst from the other side of the door.
“Go away if you will not let me have my pony!”
It was a child shouting. Patrick looked at Markus, who was fighting off a smile at a clearly angry little boy. Shand, however, appeared incredibly embarrassed.
“My lady, the Earl of Berwick has arrived,” he said. “He is asking to see you.”
The door suddenly flew open. A woman of unearthly beauty was standing in the opening, clad in a simple but lovely garment the color of mustard. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of Patrick.
“My Lord Berwick,” she said, astonished. “I… I saw your army come through the gates. I would have come to you, my lord, I swear it. You did not have to trouble yourself by coming to me.”
“Lady de Sauque,” Patrick greeted politely. “It was no trouble at all. I came to offer you my sympathies on the passing of your husband.”
The woman nodded briefly. “Thank you, my lord,” she said. “And thank you… thank you for coming. We are honored by your arrival.”
She was looking at him with a tremendous amount of uncertainty in her eyes, stumbling over her words.
Since she was the one who had sent the missive about Roget’s death without Shand’s knowledge, Patrick tread carefully.
He could see that she was frightened and he didn’t want to give her subversion away.
He wanted to get to the bottom of things.
That meant talking to Shand, too, in order to determine the man’s mindset.
Perhaps this was a big misunderstanding, but perhaps not.
Looking at the fear in Lady de Sauque’s eyes, he was coming to think there was no mistake at all.
Now that he could see for himself that Lady de Sauque was unharmed and well, he could focus on what needed to be done.
He motioned to Markus.
“This is my son, Markus de Wolfe, Viscount Ravensdowne,” he told her. “Would you allow him a moment of your time, my lady? He would be happy to extend the service of the House of de Wolfe to you while I speak with Bexwell.”
Lady de Sauque appeared somewhat baffled as she looked at Markus.
When their gazes met, Markus suddenly found himself much more interested in the situation than he had been.
He knew what his father was doing; he wanted Markus to speak with the lady to discover why she had sent that missive while he cornered Bexwell for his side of the story.
Divide and interrogate.
But now, Markus found himself more than happy to speak with Lady de Sauque.
On the ride to Trastamara, his father had said that he remembered Lady de Sauque to be a woman of great beauty, but that it was possible that situation had changed.
As Markus looked at her, he could confirm that nothing about that situation had changed.
Lady de Sauque was… stunning.
“Alone?” Lady de Sauque said, breaking into his thoughts. “You would have him… us… speak alone?”
She looked between Patrick and Markus with great fear and confusion. Patrick quickly sought to ease her.
“My son may be the size of a mountain and twice as intimidating, but I assure you, he is most kind and gentle with women,” Patrick said.
“He will leave the door to the chamber open, rest assured, and I will be on the floor below. I can easily hear a scream if you should feel so inclined. But I assure you, my son is the finest of men. He is worthy of your trust.”
Lady de Sauque still didn’t seem too convinced, but she graciously nodded.
As Patrick took a reluctant Shand back down the stairs, Lady de Sauque ushered Markus into her chamber.
It was a comfortable solar, a little cluttered, with two other people in it.
One was the little boy who had yelled at Shand while the other was a girl, barely a woman, who looked at Markus with a terrified expression.
In fact, she turned her back on him and lowered her head over whatever she held in her hands as if to hide from him.
But the young girl didn’t have his attention for more than a cursory glance.
He only had eyes for Lady de Sauque.
She was older than he was, perhaps by as much as ten years, but she had such an ageless beauty about her that it was difficult to tell.
Her skin was pale, like cream, and she had beautiful dark red hair.
He’d never seen a shade like it. It glistened with copper flecks in the weak light of the chamber even though she had it pulled to the nape of her neck and pinned it modestly.
But it was her eyes that had his attention.
They were wide, slightly tilted at the edges, and the color of an emerald.
He’d never seen such a color before. Even at a distance, there was no mistaking that deep, clear green.
Everything about the woman reeked of beauty and poise, but as he stood by the door, the little boy who had shouted at Shand was suddenly standing in front of him.
“Are you a knight?” he asked.
Markus tore his gaze away from Lady de Sauque long enough to look at the child, who had Lady de Sauque’s green eyes. Guessing he was a de Sauque offspring, Markus nodded.
“I am,” he said. “Who are you?”
The child stared at him a moment as if trying to determine what to tell him. Finally, he puffed his chest out. “Alfie.”
“Greetings, Alfie. I am Sir Markus.”
Alfie jabbed a thumb into his chest. “I am King Alfie,” he said imperiously. “I am the King of Trastamara. I have my own horse guard. Do you want to see them?”
“Alfie,” Lady de Sauque scolded softly. “Do not pester Sir Markus, please. Come over here and sit with me.”
Alfie looked at his mother, undecided whether he should obey her.
New knights at Trastamara were far and few between, and the one before him was a giant.
He’d never seen such a big man and was naturally quite interested in him.
That curiosity won over and his attention inevitably returned to Markus.
“You may be part of my horse guard,” he said. “Can you fight good?”
A smile played on Markus’ lips. “I can.”
“Have you been in a real battle?”
“I have.”
“Did you kill a man and cut his head off and cut his hands off and watch him bleed?”
Markus started to snort but Lady de Sauque was there, pulling her cheeky son away. “Enough, Alfie,” she said, yanking the reluctant boy with her. “I apologize for his manners, my lord. It is not often he sees a knight he does not know. He is very curious.”
Markus was grinning at the lady. “I can see that,” he said. “I am more than happy to continue the conversation with him after I have spoken to you.”
Lady de Sauque nodded, forced to sit back in her chair when Alfie climbed on her lap. “If you wish to shut the door, I will not protest,” she said quietly, settling her squirming son. “You have come a long way. I am sure you have many questions.”
Without a word, Markus shut the door, but he remained standing by it. He didn’t want to frighten her and with his sheer size, he was used to frightening women. But not her; he didn’t want to frighten her.
His gaze lingered on the woman with the alabaster skin and red hair.
“We received your missive,” he said after a moment. “I am sure you realized that when you saw our army.”
Lady de Sauque nodded, sighing heavily with relief. “I thanked God when I saw you,” she murmured. “I am tremendously grateful that your father responded as fast as he did.”
Markus nodded, acknowledging her gratitude. “Tell me quickly and succinctly what has happened since your husband’s death,” he said. “I do not know how much time we will have privately, so we must speak quickly on it. Has Bexwell taken control of Trastamara?”
She nodded. “He has,” she said. “But, in fairness, he was my husband’s second-in-command. That is his duty. But he does not want to relinquish that responsibility.”
“What makes you say so?”
“Because he was in this chamber not two hours ago, telling me that Roget wished for him to marry me upon Roget’s death,” she said, distress in her features. “That is something my husband never told me, my lord. I do not know if it is true.”
Markus’ eyebrows lifted. “So he wants to marry you because Roget told him to?” he said. “But why? Your eldest son is now the Lord of Trastamara. Surely Bexwell has nothing to gain by marrying you.”
She glanced at Alfie, at Aleanor, and shook her head sadly.
“He says that he will become my son’s regent should he marry me,” she said.
“He told me he can administer Trastamara for Atlas until he comes of age and can assume his duties. But I must say that I do not believe him. If he marries me, Atlas and Alfie stand in the way of him assuming full control of Trastamara. I am afraid he will try to harm my boys and I cannot… I will not…”
She faded off, close to tears. Markus watched her hug Alfie tightly, who was starting to doze off against his mother. The little boy probably hadn’t heard a word they’d said because he seemed completely untroubled, the relaxed nature of untroubled youth.
But that wasn’t Markus’ nature.
He was troubled by what he was hearing.
“Interesting,” he finally said. “It is interesting that he thinks you would actually believe such an excuse for marriage. Bexwell may be calculating, but he is not intelligent. If he thinks you are the way to gain Trastamara, he is quite wrong.”
“I realize that, my lord.”
“Has he been cruel to you since Roget’s passing? Has he been harmful?”
She shook her head. “Not in the least,” she said. “He has not troubled me at all except for today. He came under the pretext of wanting to know where and when I wished to bury my husband, but I fear his true motive was the marriage proposal.”
“Lord de Sauque has not yet been buried?”