Chapter Six #4
Trenton was starting to understand, just a little, why she was so stunned with the pony.
It seemed to him as if she’d never received an unexpected gift in her entire life.
It also gave him a clue as to why the girl had seemed so morose and grumpy.
A little older than Brencis, she’d learned the harshness of life that her younger sister hadn’t yet, and she had no idea that a man could actually be kind to her.
“I will not let your father take the pony away,” Trenton said after a moment, giving her the same answer he’d given Brencis. “You may keep her as long as you wish. She is yours.”
Cynethryn wiped away the last of her tears, using two hands to pet the pony now. Trenton thought he could see a little joy in her eyes, this stony-faced lass, until she finally looked up at him.
Slowly, a smile spread across her lips.
It was all the thanks Trenton needed.
The summer storm was pounding overhead, with bolts of lightning lighting up the common room.
The hour was late as Trenton sat at a table near the hearth, listening to the snoring going on around him as travelers seeking shelter were sleeping around the fringes of the room.
Over his head, snug and warm, Lysabel was sleeping in a big bed with her two daughters, both of them undoubtedly dreaming of their new ponies.
It had been an eventful day for them all.
Trenton’s thoughts lingered on the ponies, too, and the way Lysabel had looked at him when she realized how kind and generous he’d been with her daughters.
It was a look Trenton hadn’t seen from her before, one that caused his heart to race.
There was gratitude there, but there was also something else, and it was that something else that Trenton was currently contemplating.
He knew he shouldn’t.
Staring into the flames of the low-burning fire, he was feeling a great deal of turmoil. Lysabel was a woman, newly widowed, whose husband had been a beast. Now, she was free of him and she had a chance to find a decent man. Trenton only wished that man could be him.
But it was impossible.
Even if he hadn’t already been married, he wouldn’t have considered himself a decent prospect for her.
But in his defense, it wasn’t as if he’d been careless with women – his three marriages had stemmed from actions that had been reasonable at the time.
He’d married Alicia because it had been a good political match, and Iseuld because she’d been pretty and bright, and then Adela because his father had talked him into it soon after the death of Iseuld.
He’d been emotionally vulnerable at the time and he’d gone along with it but, in hindsight, he shouldn’t have.
Adela had been the worst mistake he could have possibly made.
A mistake he couldn’t fix.
Therefore, whatever longing he was developing for Lysabel was misplaced and wrong. He had no right at all to find her attractive, or hope she was seeing him as no longer the big, intimidating boy but now the powerful, handsome man. Nay, he had no right at all.
But he was hoping for all these things, nonetheless.
And he couldn’t seem to think straight about it.
“Why are you still awake?”
The voice came from behind and, startled, Trenton turned to see Lysabel walking up in the darkness, wrapped up in a heavy robe. Her hair was mussed, and she looked sleepy, but there was a smile on her face. He eyed her.
“Why are you still awake?” he countered. “You went to bed long ago.”
Her grin broadened as she sat down on a stool next to him.
“I did,” she agreed. “But Cissy and Cinny are so excited about the ponies that it took me a goodly long time to get them off to sleep. Now, Cinny is snoring and Cissy is kicking, so I cannot fall asleep. Besides, the travel has upset my stomach. I came down here to see if I could procure some warm milk. Maybe that will help me.”
Trenton was on his feet. “I will have it brought to you,” he said. “Sit right there. I will return.”
Before Lysabel could stop him, he wandered into the darkened rear of the tavern and in a few moments, she could hear voices. Someone was moving about. Soon enough, Trenton reappeared and reclaimed his seat.
“The tavern keeper will bring you some,” he said quietly. “But between the snoring and kicking, I am not sure it will do you any good.”
Lysabel laughed softly. “I can only try,” she said. Then, she took a second look at him. “You did not answer me. Why are you still awake? Is snoring and kicking keeping you awake also?”
He grinned. “Nay,” he said. “I do not sleep well as it is. I never have. When I am tired enough, I shall sleep, but it will probably be for no more than an hour or two at most. Besides, we must be up at dawn if we are to make it to Wellesbourne Castle by evening tomorrow.”
Lysabel nodded, her gaze moving to the flames. “I cannot believe we are almost there,” she sighed. “I cannot remember the last time I was at Wellesbourne Castle. Benoit always made my father come to us; we could never leave and visit him. I am very eager to see my papa.”
Trenton was watching her profile as the reflection from the flames flickered on her face. “As am I,” he said. “It has been several years. It has been several years since I have seen your father or my father, in fact. It seems like forever.”
She glanced at him. “When was the last time you saw your father?”
He inhaled slowly, deeply, pondering her question.
“At least six years,” he said. Since my father coerced me into marrying Adela.
But why couldn’t he tell her that? Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to tell the woman he was married.
He didn’t feel married. He never had, at least not to Adela.
“My father and I have a rather… troubled relationship.”
Lysabel yawned, pulling the robe closer about her body against the chill of the room. “Your father always seemed like such a kind, wise man,” she said. “I know my father considers him a brother. May I ask what is so troubling with him?”
His relationship with his father wasn’t something he spoke of, but with Lysabel, there wasn’t any such restraint. It was easy to tell her things he kept down deep. She was easy to talk to.
“Many things, I suppose,” he said. “My profession, for one. My father did not want me to serve Henry in the capacity that I do. He does not feel that it is particularly noble.”
Lysabel looked at him. “I told you that I did not care what you did for Henry, and I do not,” she said. “But, clearly, it is something… important. I saw that when you burst into my chamber the night you took Benoit. You and your men were swift and skilled. You are warriors.”
“We are assassins,” Trenton rumbled. He cast her a sidelong glance, seeing the surprise on her face.
“You may as well know what I do, Lysabel. It is neither noble nor glorious. I am called the Crown’s Own Agent and I do what Henry tells me to do.
If he wants men brought to him, then it is my job to find them and bring them to Henry by whatever means necessary.
If he wants his enemies killed, then it is my job to kill them.
Have no illusions that whatever I do is great and honorable.
It is not. And my father does not approve. ”
Lysabel tried not to show any hint of judgment as she spoke.
“But… why?” she asked. “He is The Dark One, the man who betrayed King Richard at the Battle of Bosworth. I do not know much more than that, as I have never asked, but everyone knows what Gaston de Russe did. And your father feels it is his right to judge what you do?”
Trenton shrugged. “He wanted my reputation to be better than his.”
“And it is not?”
“Not even close.”
Lysabel could see that in that softly-uttered statement, there was some shame in Trenton’s tone.
It was the first time she’d seen the consummately confident knight show any hint of a reflection on his duties, perhaps even his life as a whole.
Trenton was a man who seemed to keep things well-hidden and as she realized that, she wondered what other secrets he might be hiding.
It was just a feeling she had.
“Then why do you do what you do?” she asked quietly. “You are a fine knight, Trenton, and you are an earl. You can simply retire to your estate and command your army and lead a fine and noble life. Why do you serve the king in this capacity if your father finds it dishonorable?”
He looked at her then. “Because I do not find it dishonorable,” he said. “I am very good at what I do. I am shaping a kingdom, Lysabel. What I do matters to the king and I am proud to serve him.”
“Even as an assassin?”
“Any man in the king’s army has sworn to kill and die for him. Why should my role be defined any differently than any other knight sworn to obey Henry’s command?”
He had a point but, even so, he seemed rather torn. He seemed proud of his role in Henry’s arsenal, but his father’s disapproval was disappointing. It was a great insight into the man she’d known her entire life, but she hadn’t known him well.
Until now.
She liked what she saw.
“If I have anything to say about it, I believe you to be as fine and noble as any knight I have ever seen,” she said softly but firmly.
“You saved me, Trenton. You saved my life and I have said it before, but I shall say it again – I will always be deeply grateful to you. I will sing your praises until I die, so in the eyes of at least one person, you are a great and noble man.”
He was feeling the slightest bit embarrassed by her praise because it wasn’t something he came across very much in his line of work. But he also felt warmed by it. Hers was an opinion that mattered to him.
“Then I hope I shall always be that in your eyes,” he said, “and you will stop dreaming about my brother, Dane.”
Lysabel burst into soft laughter as the rather serious mood between them was broken. “I told you that I do not dream about him any longer,” she insisted. But she soon sobered. “Does he know what you do? For the king, I mean.”
Trenton nodded. “He knows,” he said. “Dane serves my father, as the captain of his army, but before he assumed that post, he and I served in Henry’s army together for a time. I miss serving with my brother. I miss him a great deal.”
“He did not choose to serve the king as you do?”
“He was not offered the post – I was,” he said. “Besides, Dane is more at home when he has a thousand men to train and command. He has astonishing command presence.”
“And you do not?”
He gave her a half-grin. “I can command thousands with ease also, but I grow quickly bored,” he said.
“I must have new and unusual things to keep me occupied. But I will tell you something truthfully – as much as I can command thousands with ease, I fold like a weakling to a child begging for a pony.”
Lysabel started laughing. “And that is another thing,” she said. “I have not yet had the opportunity to scold you for purchasing those ponies for my children. What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?”
He shrugged and looked away, but he was grinning. “I told you,” he said. “Brencis begged for the pony, and then her eyes got watery, and I collapsed like a fool. How can I resist such a thing?”
Lysabel shook her head reproachfully. “Really, Trenton,” she scolded softly. “When did you become so weak?”
“The day I met your daughter.”
“You should know better. Have you no children of your own?”
He sobered. “Nay,” he said. “My wife, Alicia, died in childbirth ten years ago. I have no children.”
Lysabel sucked in her breath, a gesture of horror. “Oh, Trenton,” she breathed. “I am so terribly sorry. I did not mean to show such disrespect by asking such a thing. I did not know.”
His eyes glimmered weakly at her. “I know you did not,” he said. “You did not offend me. It is simply a statement of fact.”
Lysabel nodded, but she was still feeling terrible about it.
The poor man had lost his wife and child, and she had been clumsy about it.
As she tried to figure out how to make amends to the man for her tactlessness, the sleepy tavern keeper suddenly appeared and handed her warm milk in a chipped wooden cup.
Lysabel stood up to accept it, thinking she should return to her chamber now that she’d made an ass of herself and leave Trenton to his quiet evening. As the tavern keeper wandered back into the kitchens, she turned to Trenton.
“I am truly sorry about your wife and child,” she said quietly. “For everything you must have gone through… there are no words to describe my sorrow for you. Forgive me for being so insensitive, my old friend.”
With that, she bent over and kissed him on the forehead, leaving the common room with her warm milk in hand and disappearing up the darkened stairs.
Trenton sat there and watched her until he could see her no more, feeling her kiss on his forehead like a brand.
He’d been kissed by women before, many times, but not like that.
Never like that. There was so much emotion and tenderness in the kiss that his heart was still thumping because of it.
That beaten, scared woman was much like her youngest daughter in that she hadn’t lost the ability to feel, and feel for others especially.
She fairly oozed gentleness and compassion, with eyes that bespoke of deeper emotions he couldn’t hope to comprehend.
He’d never experienced anything like it.
He wished she hadn’t left him.
Turning his attention back to the dying flames, Trenton realized that any hope of detaching himself from Lysabel had been summarily dashed.
That warm, wonderful, and beautiful woman had his attention as no woman had ever had it, and he knew now that purging her from his mind was going to be an impossibility.
And he hated himself for it.