Chapter Six
“Good God, Summer! You gave him your favor?”
It was just after the dawn of a new morning. Seated before three very angry brothers, Summer maintained her courage.
“I did,” she said, gazing defiantly into Lance’s blazing blue eyes. “We shared a very nice conversation and when he asked for my favor, I gladly gave him my handkerchief.”
“And he gave you that… that hairy rat as a token of his esteem?”
Antony, hovering in the folds of Summer’s unmade bed, was intimidated by the loud voices and angry gestures. As small black eyes peered from beneath the bedrug, Summer looked to the tiny creature as if to apologize for the uproar.
“He said that Antony liked me b-better,” she replied evenly. “And I could hardly refuse his generous gift.”
Standing by the lancet window of his sister’s bower, Stephan gazed over the tournament field without emotion. As the day emerged bright and clear, the final touches to the joust barrier were being completed by the carpenters and the lodges were being readied for the second day of guests.
His thoughts, however, were far removed from the arena below.
He was concentrating on his sister’s first display of rebellion, the harsh words to his wife that had reduced the woman to tears.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t angry. Summer was a bright, intelligent girl and it was only natural that she desired more of a public life once she had sampled a taste.
But the fact that her desires seemed to center around Bose de Moray was disturbing to say the least.
“I told him to stay away from you,” Stephan muttered, his tone far more relaxed than his youngest brother’s. He moved his attention away from the window and back to his sister. “Did he tell you that I asked him to stay away from you?”
“Nay,” Summer shook her head; although he was outwardly calm, Stephan’s temper was legendary.
And he had a knack for holding a grudge as well.
Combined, the two factors frightened her more than Lance’s wild raging and Ian’s brooding silence.
“He said that he asked to speak with me, but that you had denied him.”
Stephan stared at her a moment before returning his focus to the field below. “Is that why you ran off last night? To be with him?”
Summer gazed at her brother a long, heady moment. “Nay, Stephan, I did not. I ran away last night because your wife and our father greatly embarrassed me in front of Sir B-Bose. It was purely coincidental that he found me later on, seated beneath Grandfather’s oak tree.”
“You were at Grandfather’s oak tree?” Lance repeated incredulously. “Good God, Summer, that’s located in the heart of the knight’s camp! What on earth were you thinking, girl?”
“I was thinking to be alone, Lance!” she shot back, her composure slipping. “It’s p-perfectly acceptable for me to be alone, wherever or however I chose!”
“Not in an encampment full of knights,” Lance jabbed a finger at her. “And what about that, anyway? Did you and de Moray do anything other than talk? Or, mayhap, did he pick up where another knight left off?”
Summer bolted from her chair, furious and insulted. “How dare you accuse m-me of… of… damnation, Lance! You k-know me better than that!”
Stephan pushed himself away from the window, placing himself between his two siblings.
“Lance did not mean to infer that you were… God’s Blood, Lance, apologize for your slanderous statement,” he frowned at his youngest brother.
“Whether or not you meant to accuse your sister of wanton actions, your statement was uncalled for.”
Ruddy-cheeked, Lance sighed heavily and turned away.
“I did not mean it the way it sounded, Summer,” he said, his voice taut with emotion.
“It’s just that… Good God, we spent hours searching for you last night, looking in all of the usual places.
We stayed clear of the knight’s camp simply because we knew you would not venture into the heart of such an establishment.
And then, when you finally decided to return from your wanderings, you went directly to bed without a word as to where you had been. It was frustrating to say the least.”
“And frightening,” Ian put in, his tone even and relaxed.
Where Lance could splinter the walls with his shouting, Ian, like Stephan, scarcely raised his voice.
“We were worried for you, love. We’d been searching for hours when next we realized, one of the sentry’s informed us that you had returned under de Moray’s escort.
Since you went directly to bed and refused to speak with us, we spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering what had happened. Can you see our point, Summer?”
Her anger somewhat cooling with her middle brother’s manner, she was nonetheless hurt by Lance’s implication. “Nothing happened, Ian. Sir B-Bose was a perfect gentleman.”
Stephan eyed his sister a moment, carefully scrutinizing her defensive, emotional demeanor. “Let’s start at the beginning, sweetheart. After you ran away from Genisa, where did you go?”
Summer shrugged, tearing her hostile gaze away from Lance and moving toward the long, latticed windows overlooking the eastern wall. “I wandered until I came to rest under Grandfather’s oak. Sir B-Bose found me there and we had a wonderful conversation.”
“Then he knows about your speech?”
She cast her brother an impatient look, as if he were a simpleton. “Of course he knows. And he doesn’t care. His mother was stricken with the same affliction and he is perfectly comfortable with the fact.”
Ian and Lance glanced to Stephan, the men exchanging various degrees of surprise.
After a lengthy pause involving deeper deliberations and speculation, Stephan turned away from his mildly-astonished brothers to refocus on his sister.
Stroking his chin in a thoughtful gesture, he labored to formulate a careful reply.
“I see he told you something of himself then,” he said, watching her expression closely. “Did you learn much about him?”
She sighed, her slender fingers toying with the wooden lattice as she gazed over the compound. “He spoke of his mother. We did not speak of much, truly.”
Listening to her explanation, Stephan’s fears were somewhat allayed but not his fury.
He had specifically asked de Moray to stay away from his sister; obviously, the man was unwilling to obey his request. Before the situation grew out of hand, it was becoming apparent that drastic measures would have to be taken to cleave any further contact.
Drawing a deep breath for strength and courage, he moved toward his sister. “Summer, in spite of your pleasant contact with de Moray, I believe it best that you stay away from him. I’ll return the pet and collect your favor and….”
She whirled on her brother, her calm deportment vanished as her eyes widened with immediate outrage. “You’ll do no such thing. I f-forbid you to control my life in such a manner.”
Stephan sighed, struggling to keep his demeanor composed and caring. “I am not attempting to control you, sweetheart, merely protect you. You must trust that I know best in such matters.”
“No!” she practically shouted. “You are not my f-father, Stephan du Bonne. If I want to bestow Sir B-Bose with a favor, then it is my decision and not yours.”
Stephan’s jaw ticked faintly as his composure slipped a notch. “Father will agree with me and well you know it. Summer, you must trust me in these matters. I know far more than you when it comes to the trials of courtship.”
“Who said anything about courtship?” Summer demanded. “I gave the man a k-kerchief, not a wedding promise!”
“Listen to him, Summer,” Ian said quietly. “He’s only thinking of your best interests, love. We all are.”
Summer looked to her brothers. The flush mottling her cheeks deepened and her pretty jaw ticked wildly with emotion. Damn them! They were always trying to run her life, forcing her to their demanding will in every matter large or small. And as an obedient sister, she obeyed them implicitly.
But not this time. She was determined to do as she pleased, if only this once.
She liked Bose; he was kind and noble and chivalrous and she could hardly understand her brothers’ collective resistance to her interest. As she continued to gaze into their stern, if not somewhat compassionate expressions, her anger inevitably gained speed.
“I thought you would be pleased that I f-found someone to tolerate my difference,” she said quietly, with thinly-reined fury. “Instead, you seek to isolate me from him as well. Will this never stop, Stephan? Will I not be adequate for any man?”
Stephan’s expression softened dramatically. “God’s Blood, Summer, it’s not your inadequacy at all. You are perfect, sweetheart, truly. It’s Bose we are concerned with.”
“W-Why?”
Stephan stared at her a moment, noting her volatile emotions, feeling her shame and curiosity and anguish.
Of course she resented his interference; he’d never given her a valid motive behind his brotherly concerns.
Mayhap if she were to discover the basis for his objection, she would come to realize his earnest stance.
“Do you remember yesterday when I mentioned that Bose de Moray possessed less than a desirable reputation?” he asked.
Summer nodded firmly. “Aye. And I told you that I would not believe the slander, whatever it was.”