Chapter Nine #2
She knew he was right, so she managed a reluctant nod.
They were gazing at each other quite openly and Ellowyn could feel something warm in the air between them.
It was that same warm feeling she had experienced with him after the battle, that moment when they had finished off the Welsh soldier together.
It had been an oddly bonding event and most unexpected.
At least, it had been a bonding event for her.
She realized at that moment she was coming to feel something towards him more than simply camaraderie.
It was both a terrifying and thrilling realization.
“I want to apologize for my behavior earlier,” she said, finally averting her gaze. “In the battle… I suppose I was more frightened and overwhelmed than I realized. All I could think of was escaping to safety. I did not mean to put you in such danger and I know I did.”
His expression was rather gentle as he looked at her.
“You did not put me in any more danger than I already was,” he said.
“I was simply terrified that you were going to be killed. I apologize that my efforts to remove you from the battle were not immediately successful. That you should be in such peril for so long is inexcusable.”
She looked at him, puzzled. “You did your best,” she insisted softly. “With you as my protector, I never had a doubt that I would come through safely. You are quite impressive to behold in battle.”
He gave her a half-smile. “Have you seen many battles, then?”
She shook her head. “None, in fact,” she said, her eyes on him growing intense. “But I know an excellent warrior when I see him. No wonder the French call you l’ange noir.”
He could feel the intensity from her beautiful eyes. It sucked him right in and rather than curb himself, as he had been doing all along, he allowed himself to feel it.
“Compliments?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye. “I told you I was not sure I am at all comfortable with them.”
“Because you want to believe them.”
He stared at her before nodding, faintly. “I do.”
“You may believe them, because they are the truth,” she murmured. Then, she smiled. “I would lie to a nun, but not to you.”
He smiled because she was. He even chuckled.
Whatever was brewing between them had gone from a small spark to a healthy blaze fairly quickly, at least as far as he was concerned.
It was so alien to him, these feelings of warmth and attraction, that he found he was actually somewhat giddy.
His heart was pounding against his ribs and his palms were beginning to sweat.
It was odd but wonderful. But being a man unused to romantic games of any kind, he had no idea how to deal with them.
“I appreciate that,” he said after a moment. “I would never lie to you, either.”
“Thank you.”
The conversation fell into warm if not slightly awkward silence. He didn’t want the conversation to die and struggled to come up with something more to say to her. He didn’t want to leave.
“You said you were going to find me a wife,” he said the first thing that popped into his head. “Did you have anyone in mind?”
She laughed softly. “Did you have anyone in mind?” she countered. “I told you that I do not have many friends, at least friends that I would consider an appropriate match for you, so surely you must have someone in mind? Tell me and I shall write her forthwith with an introduction.”
Brandt had no idea how to play these flirtatious games, at least with a woman he genuinely respected and was genuinely attracted to.
But he gave a good stab at it. If nothing else, perhaps he could discover what she thought of him.
It might end his little infatuation with her fairly quickly without leaving him feeling too much like a fool.
But he knew it would disappoint him a great deal if she was she not receptive.
“I am not sure,” he shrugged, lowering himself to his buttocks next to her pallet. “Women are not usually interested in me and if they are, it is only for my reputation and title.”
Ellowyn grew serious. “Surely there is someone who would see you as a man and not as a war machine.”
“I am one and the same.”
She shook her head. “Untrue,” she countered firmly, softly. “Who you are as a man is completely different than who you are as a warrior.”
He sat back, one big arm propped up on a bended knee. “Explain.”
She looked thoughtful. “Well,” she said, “as a warrior, you are bent on death. I saw you in the battle today and you were focused, alert, and skilled. That is the man they call the Black Angel. But right now, as you sit here and converse with me, you are kind, interested, and thoughtful. You are concerned for my shoulder and concerned for me. To me, that speaks highly of who Brandt de Russe is as a man. You are more than the Bringer of Death. You have a heart and a soul as well.”
He just stared at her. “Do you think so?”
She nodded firmly. “Of course I do.”
He gazed at her a moment longer before slowly shaking his head. “I have never heard anyone say that to me,” he said quietly. “I am not quite sure how to respond.”
She shifted so she was laying more on her side, facing him. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Do you want people to see that side of you?”
He shook his head without hesitation. “I do not,” he replied firmly, but then he looked at her, hesitantly, before continuing. “But I do not mind if you see that side of me.”
Ellowyn grinned brightly. “Do you know what else I see?”
“What?”
“You are afraid of nuns.”
He shook his head, smiling, as she burst out laughing. “The Brides of Christ are frightening,” he replied. “I can remember many a nun taking a switch to me as a child. My mother employed them as governesses.”
“Your mother did not tend you?”
“Nay,” he replied. “My mother was only a mother in the literal sense. She married my father for the Exeter title but there was no affection between them. Once I was born, she considered her duty complete and went on to other pursuits.”
Ellowyn wasn’t smiling any more. “How sad,” she replied. “What of your father? Did he care for you?”
Brandt shrugged. “I was his son,” he stated the obvious. “As long as I did not shame the family name, he was civil, but he died when I was young so to be honest, I do not remember much of him. I do remember that he was very big and very intimidating.”
“Like you.”
“Like me”
“Any siblings?”
“An older sister that died in infancy.”
As Ellowyn gazed at him, she began to feel very sorry for him. His upbringing, his life, had been so unlike hers. The things she took for granted, the familial love and affection, was evidently unknown to him. He was alone.
“Then you have never had anyone close to you?” she asked. “No mother or father to love you? What about grandparents?”
He sighed remorsefully, thinking back to his dark and dismal childhood. “Nay,” he said. “There was no one.”
Ellowyn was deeply distressed. “No home, no one to care for you,” she said, “and then you apparently married a shrew who was also very cruel to you and took your children away. I am so very sorry for you, Brandt. You are a man given so much in this world yet you have so little by way of personal joy. I wish I….”
She suddenly stopped, causing him to look at her. “What do you wish?” he asked.
Ellowyn rolled onto her back, looking away from him. “I suppose I am very sorry for you, ’tis all.”
“That is not what you were going to say,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. “What do you wish?”
“I do not know.”
“You swore you would never lie to me.”
She looked at him sharply. “How do you know I am?”
He met her gaze, a knowing grin on his face. “Because I can tell,” he said. Then, he reached over and tugged on the sleeve of her dressing gown. “Tell me what you wish. I promise I will not laugh.”
She made a face at him and looked away. “I wish… I wish you would go away.”
He laughed softly. “Is that so? Well, I will not. Not until you tell me what you wish.”
She was still making that funny scrunch-nosed face when she looked at him again. “You are a nuisance.”
“I know.”
“You are making my shoulder hurt.”
“Nay, I am not.”
“You are causing me great ache with your harassment.”
He chuckled at her dramatics. “Do you want me to bring the nuns back to assist you?”
She sat bolt upright on the pallet. “God, no!” she gasped. Her left hand instinctively went to her sore shoulder. “Very well, you pest, I shall tell you. I was going to say that I wish I could help you. Are you satisfied?”
His dark eyes glimmered at her, a smile playing on his lips.
“I am,” he muttered. “But you should know that you have already helped me, more than you can ever know. I have spent the past year in France fighting in conditions you could not possibly imagine, dealing daily with death and destruction. I returned home a few days ago only to be confronted with a spitfire of a woman who threatened me the moment we met. But something odd has happened since that time.”
Ellowyn couldn’t help the smile on her lips, simply because his manner was so light and warm. “What?”
His grin broadened. “That woman has turned out to be the very best part of coming home,” he said softly.
“She is kind, compassionate, wise, and uproariously humorous. I consider it an honor and a privilege to have met her and even if I never see her again after leaving Erith, I will consider myself a better man for having known her. You, my lady, have brought light into my life and do not even know it. It is a priceless gift you gave to a man who insulted you when he first met you.”
Ellowyn’s mouth popped open. She had never heard such complimentary words and she knew doubtlessly that they were spoken from the heart.
She could read it in his face. Without thinking, she rolled off her pallet and, on her knees, crawled over to him.
As Brandt watched, she threw her left arm around his big neck and squeezed tightly.
The right arm, injured and folded, pressed against his chest.