Chapter Sixteen
The village of Doncaster
One week later
“I suspect she is never going to speak to me again.”
Cassius, astride Old Man, spoke loudly to Rhori and Bose.
Riding ahead of a column of about fifty Doncaster men, he was leading the escort into town with Dacia on a small gray palfrey several feet behind him and Argos plodding along beside her.
His own dog wasn’t even walking beside him, but her.
He kept glancing back, casually, to make sure she heard him, but she ignored him soundly.
That only made him grin.
“She is angry that I am back to my usual duties,” he said. “She was so angry with my plans to come into the village this morning that she locked the chamber door on me. I could not get out until Rhori came to my aid. And, by the way, that makes her angry with you, too, so watch yourself today.”
Rhori and Bose were snorting at the antics that had been part of this venture into town since the escort was formed this morning.
Cassius was recovering swiftly from his wounds, gaining strength every day thanks to Dacia’s diligent and excellent care, but she hadn’t been able to keep him in bed as long as she had wanted to.
Hence, the trip into town.
As far as Cassius was concerned, he was feeling completely normal.
His wounds were healing nicely even though they were still bandaged for the most part, but Dacia was concerned that he was doing too much, too soon.
She nearly had a temper tantrum when she saw him yesterday, bare-chested in the morning sun, as he worked a little with his sword in the bailey.
With the wound in his shoulder, he was feeling some weakness as a result and, as he had explained to her, he wanted to be aware of what limitations the wound had temporarily imposed.
It made perfect sense to him, as a warrior, but little sense to her, as a healer.
He needed to recover before he could work the shoulder, in her opinion.
She tried to take his weapon away and he wouldn’t give it to her, so she went away angry.
She was still angry.
And he was still laughing.
In fact, he was as joyful as either Rhori or Bose had ever seen him.
He was betrothed to the heiress to the Doncaster dukedom, a massive triumph for a lowly knight, but Cassius was a de Wolfe and they were some of the most sought-after grooms in England.
It was only right that one marry the Doncaster heiress and everyone agreed on that account.
Everyone but Darian, that is.
It had been a very fine line to walk for everyone all week, trying to be sensitive to Darian’s feelings while celebrating Cassius’ betrothal.
Dacia had tried to speak with Darian about it, but he had avoided her.
She finally gave up trying, hurt that he didn’t seem to want to talk to her at all because he had been a dependable friend for years when she’d had few people to talk to.
His coldness stung, but there was nothing she could do to ease it.
She had never intended to marry him even if he thought there might be hope.
Any perceived future marriage had been concocted only by him.
But he had been professional nonetheless, at least to Cassius and his knights, so his behavior with them had been admirable given the circumstances.
Cassius hadn’t brought up anything about the betrothal to him and their discussions had been purely professional.
But Rhori had mentioned that Darian had become ragingly drunk the night he found out about the betrothal and had to be carried to his bed.
Still, everyone was trying to stay above it and not let the situation deteriorate in any way.
But it was a difficult fight.
The trip into Doncaster today was a good example.
Usually, Darian would accompany Dacia whenever she left the castle.
But this time, he had remained behind while Cassius and his men took the lead.
Considering Cassius was now her betrothed, that was appropriate.
But there was still something sad about leaving Darian behind.
Yet, it couldn’t be helped. Both Cassius and Dacia knew that.
They put it behind them to enjoy the day, or at least, Cassius had.
Dacia was still angry at him for the fact he was even up and moving, so he’d spent the short jaunt into town mostly taunting her.
He also did it for another reason – to take her mind off the fact that she wasn’t covered in her veils.
He had insisted.
It had taken a good deal of coaxing to convince her not to cover herself up.
Cassius thought she was a radiant creature and he didn’t want that radiance covered up, but Dacia was very nervous about it.
She wore her hair in a braid, with a lovely bejeweled cap and a white gossamer veil that was attached to it.
The veil went around the neck, covering the neck and chest, before being pinned up on the other side of the cap.
Therefore, she was covered up a little in an elegant and fashionable sort of way, but her face was still exposed.
Cassius thought she looked magnificent.
She thought she looked naked.
As the escort approached the St. Sepulcher gate, the one that faced northwest, Cassius slowed his horse down so the escort passed him.
He was waiting for Dacia, wanting to be next to her when they rode into town so she would not feel alone and nervous in her uncovered state.
As her horse came near, he smiled at her.
“Well?” he said. “Are you speaking to me yet?”
As she came upon him, she gave him a reproachful look. “I’ve not decided,” she said. “You are a cheeky, naughty lad, Cassius.”
“I know, my lady.”
“And quite difficult.”
“I know, my lady.”
“And ungrateful.”
“For what?”
“For all of the hard work I have put in to you,” she scolded. “Look at you, riding around as if nothing has happened. You are not even keeping your left arm immobile while your shoulder heals. A week ago, you were feverish and in bed, and I was genuinely fearful that I would lose you.”
He reined his horse next to hers, reaching out to take her hand and lift it for a contrite kiss. “I know,” he said softly. “But your miraculous talent healed me. There was never any real danger for me as long as you were there.”
It was difficult to be stern with him when he was being so sweet. “You will be careful, won’t you?” she asked. “You will not exert yourself today.”
He shook his head. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “I promise I will not.”
“How are you feeling?”
He winked at her. “Rather well, lass,” he said. “Why do you ask? Do you have something in mind for later when we are alone?”
She yanked her hand away, shaking her head at him. “You are impossible,” she said, fighting off a grin. “Cheeky and impossible.”
He laughed low in his throat. “Admit it. That is how you like me.”
Her grin broke through. “How can I not?” she said. “I fear that, very quickly, you have learned how to get around me. One flash of that smile and I am like butter, melted and pliable to your wishes.”
He continued laughing at her. “Just wait until you realize the power you have over me,” he said. “That will be the day your life changes forever.”
Her smile faded as she looked at him. “My life is already changed forever,” she murmured. “You have changed it, Cass, and I shall always be grateful.”
He looked at her, winking again. “That statement goes both ways, angel.”
She smiled, watching him for a moment, perhaps looking for any sign of fatigue from her powerful, invincible knight.
She still could hardly believe he was hers.
But she saw nothing in his manner that suggested lethargy.
He looked as if he had never been wounded.
She lifted her hand, shielding her eyes from the sun as she continued to watch him.
“You are sweet to want to take me into the village to purchase a few things for me,” she said. “Truly, you do not have to. I have more possessions than I need.”
“But I did not buy them for you,” he said. “Never argue with a man who wants to buy you something. It will not go well in your favor.”
She chuckled, softly. “I was not arguing,” she said. “I was simply saying that I have a great deal already.”
“Do you have a ring that expresses my devotion to you?”
“Nay.”
“Where can we find one?”
The mere suggestion made her heart flutter as she thought on this question. “There are a few merchants that sell jewelry,” she said. “But our best chance of finding something like that will be on the street of the smithies. There are silversmiths and goldsmiths there, too.”
“Then that is where we shall go,” he said. “And then we shall find a merchant who can supply some pretty things for your trousseau.”
She was starting to flush again, thinking on their wedding, and wedding night, and all the nights afterwards.
“If you insist,” she said. “And have you finally decided when this event shall take place?”
He nodded. “We shall leave here in a few days, when I am feeling strong enough to travel great distances, and go north to Berwick Castle,” he said. “I want to be married in my father’s home, with my family about me. It is important to me. I hope that is agreeable with you.”
She smiled at him, at the sentimentality when it came to his beloved family. “Of course it is,” she said. “And your grandmother will be there, too.”
“She will have a place of honor to witness the marriage.”
“What of your mother’s father? The Norse king?”
Cassius shrugged. “He is very old these days and does not travel like he used to, but I will send him word. Be prepared for his response.”
“What response will he give?”
Cassius snorted. “He claims the right to name every firstborn male child in our family,” he said. “He named my oldest brother and my oldest brother’s firstborn son. But he also named me and my two younger brothers, so he will undoubtedly lay his claim to name our firstborn son.”