Chapter Nine #2
Allaston had to admit that that she was startled by the sight of him as well as fearful.
This warrior, this Devil, had finally returned.
After all of the horrible things she had been told of him yesterday, she wasn’t quite sure how she would feel upon seeing him again.
At the moment, all she could feel was anxiety.
But in the same breath, she felt something more, something very odd – something of warmth stirring within her chest, and the sight of his handsome, scruffy face was doing something very strange to her emotions.
She thought her heart might have actually fluttered.
“Aye,” she agreed, pointing out to the kitchen yard. “I have a bean and pork soup cooking and also the last of the mutton we had. It is cooking in a gravy that has peppercorns and onions.”
His gaze remained on her, smoldering and weary, before turning to see what she was pointing at. “Have you done all of this by yourself?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I have had help,” she said, thinking to perhaps emphasize the value of the servants he had not put to the stake.
Perhaps emphasize her value, too, now that she knew what he was capable of.
“Uldward and Blandings have been extremely helpful,” she said.
“Robert cut up the mutton to put in the pot. I could not have done it without them.”
He turned to look at her again. “Who are they?”
“The cook and kitchen servants.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I see.”
Allaston didn’t have much more to say as the conversation waned. Nervously, she politely brushed past him through the doorway.
“There is already fresh bread and cheese in the great hall,” she said as she moved by him. “Your men can start with that while I finish preparing the rest of the meal.”
Bretton couldn’t help but notice she seemed very nervous, not at all like the stubborn woman he had come to know. He followed her as she moved to the first big pot, which was bubbling with the beans and pork.
“It seems that you have done a great deal around here,” he said. “I was in the keep. It is very tidy.”
Allaston nodded as she took the big wooden spoon that was hanging on the tripod that was holding the pot. She stuck it into the soup.
“Aye,” she replied. “In truth, there wasn’t much to clean. The keep was fairly well kept.”
He watched her stir. “I appreciate a tidy keep,” he said. “You have done well.”
His compliment made her feel rather warm in spite of everything.
She started to say something but some of Bretton’s men appeared near the entry to the kitchen yards, fighting over something.
They had their arms full of what looked like goods of some kind.
Suddenly, one man threw a punch at the other man and they went down, brawling in the dirt as other soldiers ran up and began shouting words of encouragement.
Allaston stopped stirring the soup, looking on with concern and then horror as the man who had been punched first pulled a dirk and rammed it into the neck of his accoster.
She gasped as Bretton moved away from her, quickly moving towards the men in a life or death battle.
He charged into the fray, yanking the bloodied dirk out of his soldier’s hand and pulling him off the man he had mortally wounded.
With the dirk still in his hand, he balled up his enormous right fist and plowed it into the killer’s face, sending the man sailing backwards onto his arse.
The man was knocked unconscious by Bretton’s devastating blow and Bretton tossed the blooded dirk to the ground as he ordered the men who had gathered to clean up the mess.
Dallan appeared, having been over at the gatehouse when the fight broke out, and he took charge of the situation.
With the mess being cleaned up, Bretton returned to the kitchen yard where Allaston was still standing over the soup, stirring it.
He couldn’t help but notice she wouldn’t look at him.
He also noticed that she seemed to be trembling, which piqued his curiosity.
He’d never seen this woman nervous since he’d known her so it was natural to wonder what had her shaken.
What could have happened since leaving Cloryn those weeks ago to have turned her into a nervous mess? He wondered.
“How has it been here since my departure?” he asked, hoping to discover the reasons behind her state.
Allaston stirred the pot gently. “Quiet, my lord,” she said. “There has not been much to speak of, truly.”
It was extremely rare that she addressed him as “my lord”. Now, he was really curious. What could have happened to have changed her demeanor so?
“You have kept yourself busy?” he asked.
She nodded, tendrils of dark hair blowing in the breeze. “Aye,” she replied. “Sewing, cleaning, and other things.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Speaking of sewing,” he said, “I have several things that could use mending. I will bring them to you.”
Allaston nodded. “Very well, my lord.”
My lord again. His eyes narrowed at her, scrutinizing her, as he watched her stir.
He was trying to figure out what in the world had her so nervous and obedient.
Aye, obedient. The woman he knew before leaving Cloryn wasn’t particularly obedient.
But she certainly was now. Scratching his head, he simply turned away without another word and headed back to the bailey.
Bretton didn’t see Allaston for the rest of the morning.
He had been busy with his men and with a strategic planning session with Grayton, Teague, and Dallan.
He had left Olivier at Rhayder Castle to organize and oversee the rebuilding of the damaged castle, so he only had his three commanders with him to charge on to Comen and Erwood Castles.
But they would be enough. They were a loyal and hard-working bunch, and he considered himself extremely fortunate.
All the while in the planning session, however, thoughts of Allaston plagued him.
He was curious to observe the woman’s behavior again, to see if this morning had merely been a fluke, or a bad day for her.
In fact, it concerned him so much that he cut his meeting short and headed to the great hall to finally eat a decent meal because he knew that was where she would be.
Dirty, smelly, and with a five days’ growth of beard on his face, Bretton entered the great hall where the majority of his men were now supping.
Everyone was exhausted from the battle, from the march, so there wasn’t much excitement going on.
Merely men stuffing their faces with bread, cheese, mutton in gravy, and great bowls of the bean and pork stew Allaston had made.
In fact, the entire hall smelled delicious and Bretton sat at the end of the feasting table, being served his meal from an old man with stringy gray hair.
Before the servant could leave, he spoke to the man.
“Where is Lady Allaston?” he asked.
The servant was another nervous mess. His lips trembled as he spoke. “In the kitchen, my lord,” he said. “Shall I send for her?”
Bretton nodded as he tore apart a hot loaf of bread with garlic and peppercorns. “Send her to me.”
The old servant dashed away as Bretton began to stuff his mouth with the bread, which was delicious.
The mutton was delectable, surprising for mutton, as was the bean and pork stew.
It was all flavored beautifully with onions and garlic and plenty of salt.
He loved it. As he was slurping up the last of the mutton from his trencher, he caught movement from the corner of his eye.
Turning his head, he saw Allaston standing by his left arm.
When their eyes met, he actually smiled.
“This meal is the best I have ever had,” he told her with complete honesty. “The nuns at Alberbury taught you this?”
Allaston nodded, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the kitchen and perhaps even from his compliment. “Aye, my lord,” she replied. “I told you that I had been assigned kitchen tasks and the nuns taught me what they knew.”
He continued to stare at her. She was still nervous and he didn’t like it, not in the least. He rather preferred the woman who was intent on defying him to this cowering female.
There was such strength in Allaston, strength that had garnered his respect.
This woman standing before him was not showing strength.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stood up and grasped her by the arm.
“Come with me,” he said softly.
Allaston had no choice. Her arm in his grip, she trailed after him as he pulled her out of the hall and across the bailey.
Dust kicked up as his big boots met with the dry soil and rocks, and Allaston was on the verge of panic.
Why was he taking her away like this? Had she done something wrong?
Sweet Jesus, she’d worked so hard to do everything right.
As he pulled her up the stairs, Allaston tripped out of sheer anxiety, and he carefully helped her back to her feet again.
There was an odd gentleness in his touch, something quite unexpected.
Well, was he angry with her or wasn’t he?
By the time he pulled her into the open room on the entry level, the room he used for his meetings, she was nearly in tears.
Once inside the room, Bretton let go of Allaston’s arms and faced her. He crossed his arms, his head cocked pensively, as he looked into her eyes.
“What has happened since I last saw you that you would cower in my presence?” he asked quietly. “The woman I left a few short weeks ago did not behave as if she was afraid of me. But the woman I see before me behaves fearfully. Look at you. You are almost in tears. Why do you behave this way?”