Chapter Twenty
Cloryn Castle
Allaston had watched the army returning from Comen Castle from her chamber high in the keep.
They had been gone almost nine days, a much shorter time than when they had gone off to Rhayder, and she was curious to know why they had returned so soon.
She certainly hadn’t expected it, but rather than race down to see the returning army for herself, she remained in the bower, waiting, watching for her first sighting of Bretton.
He wasn’t difficult to spot. Astride his charcoal charger, he entered the gates of Cloryn when about half of his army was already into the bailey.
In the colors of sunset, the hues of orange and yellow flashed off the armor, creating bolts of lightning in the growing darkness.
Allaston stood at the window, watching, until the rest of the army came through and the provisions wagons brought up the rear.
When one wagon lost a wheel right at the gatehouse and got stuck, she decided to make her way down to the entry of the keep and watch from there.
Somehow, she wanted to be closer to Bretton that way. She wanted him to know she was there.
Dressed in one of Lady Miette’s surcoats, a brocaded blue silk that was extraordinarily fine, she smoothed at her hair, making sure it was properly braided and neat, before heading down the narrow inner stairs and ending up at the keep entry.
As she opened the heavy oak and iron door, watching the commotion outside, Blandings mounted the steps and met her at the top.
“My lady,” the old man greeted, eyeing the soldiers in the bailey. “What should we do for their supper? No one told us the army was returning until a half hour ago. Uldward has chicken carcasses stewing in a pot and he is baking bread, but it will not be ready right away.”
Allaston looked at him. “We had a good deal of cooked mutton left,” she said. “What about that?”
The old man shook his head. “It has gone sour,” he replied. “We cannot serve it to the men.”
Allaston sighed distantly. “Unfortunate,” she said. “It was fine yesterday when I checked it. We were storing it in the coldest part of the vault.”
“Would you like to check it for yourself, my lady?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she replied. “I trust you. If you say it has gone sour, then I believe you. But now we must figure out what to cook for the men on a large scale that does not take too much time.”
Thoughts of greeting Bretton pushed aside for the moment, Allaston headed down the steps with Blandings in tow, both of them heading around the keep towards the kitchens to the rear.
Once inside the kitchen yard, she met up with Uldward and had a discussion about the stewed chickens and how they could possible stretch it to feed hundreds.
Allaston eventually came up with an idea that they had used at the priory to feed great groups of people.
Dividing the stewing chickens into three large pots, she added more water and a mixture of rye and wheat flour and butter, which thickened up the liquid in the stew and made it richer and more filling.
Then, she had Uldward pour precious white wheat flour into a bowl and she added water and salt to it, making it into a massive pile of dough.
Uldward carried the heavy dough out to the pots, simmering away with their stew, and Allaston began to break off little pieces of the dough, roll them into balls, and toss them into the simmering pots to make dumplings.
She also tossed in chopped onions, carrots, peppercorns, and lots of salt into the stew to flavor it.
Soon, both Uldward and Blandings were making little dough balls and putting them into the stew to cook.
As Allaston stood over one of the pots, checking the consistency of the dumplings, she heard movement behind her and glanced up from the pot, startled to see Bretton standing there.
“Oh!” she gasped, accidentally dropping her spoon into the simmering cauldron. “I did not know… what I mean to say is welcome home, my lord.”
It was rare when she used “my lord” to address him and Bretton grinned.
He couldn’t help it. Moreover, the sight of her was something he had missed terribly.
He had seen her briefly at the keep entry when he had entered the bailey but she had soon disappeared, so he had hurried through his duties so he could once again locate her.
Now, all he seemed capable of doing for the moment was staring at her, drinking in his fill, and feeling his heart lighten.
Something about the woman made him feel giddy and carefree, as if nothing else in the world mattered.
“My lady,” he greeted, noting the bubbling pots. “I see you have a fine feast prepared for our return.”
Allaston’s gaze was still riveted to his weary but handsome face but she managed to nod in answer to his statement. “It should be ready soon,” she said. “We have bread and stew.”
“No peas?”
She grinned at his expression of disgust when he asked the question. “No peas, I swear it.”
He laughed softly. “Then I am content.”
Her eyes twinkled at him. “I did put carrots into the stew, however,” she said. “Do they disgust you as well?”
He shook his head. “They do not,” he replied, his levity fading as he looked at her. He couldn’t seem to do anything other than stare at her. “Has the situation at Cloryn been quiet while we have been away?”
Allaston’s smile faded as well. “It has,” she replied. “You… what I mean is that you seem to have returned fairly soon. Did everything go as planned?”
As the lightheartedness faded from the conversation, the reality of the situation took hold.
As Bretton gazed at her, all he could think of was the conclusion he had reached at Comen, how he simply wasn’t good enough for the woman.
She deserved a fine man and an acceptable marriage, certainly not a marriage with a mercenary who could not give her the respectability that she deserved.
Allaston was a good woman with a good heart, and he had realized sometime between last night and today that he loved her deeply.
He had been fighting his emotions where they pertained to her, thinking himself merely fond of her, but he knew that was a lie.
He loved her, with everything that he was, he loved her.
But she was better off without him. Moreover, he had to kill her father and he could not bear looking into her eyes and seeing the pain he would cause as a result.
He couldn’t bear to see the hatred. He swallowed hard before replying.
“It did,” he said. “I was hoping I might tell you about it.”
Allaston was both surprised and curious at the statement. “Of course,” she said. “I am happy to listen.”
He reached out and took her, gently, by the arm. “Come inside,” he said. “I will tell you… everything.”
Allaston willingly went along with him, feeling his big hand on her elbow, so very thankful he had returned whole and sound.
It was true that she knew why he had gone; to conquer another castle.
He had gone to kill men and steal from them.
But that didn’t mean she wanted to see him cut down in the process.
She still believed there was good in the man and, with time, she hoped she could turn him away from this terrible life.
After all, her mother had done it with her father.
She hoped she could do the same. Since he had left for Comen Castle, she had thought of little else.
The keep was cool and dark, smelling of fresh hay on the floor that Allaston would sprinkle about to catch scraps and waste, only to be shoveled or swept out at a later time.
Instead of taking her into the open room on the entry level that he used as his private solar, Bretton took Allaston up to her chamber on the second floor, a comfortable room that was warm and nicely furnished.
It was also more private. As they entered the room, Allaston turned to Bretton just as he closed the door behind them.
“Before you begin, I should like to say something,” she said, gazing up into his weary, handsome face.
“With all of the preparation prior to your departing to Comen Castle, I did not have the chance to thank you for burying the dead of Cloryn. What you did, Bretton… it meant a great deal to me. Thank you for showing such mercy to those who had perished.”
Bretton’s gaze was steady upon her. “Did it give you a reason?”
“A reason for what?”
“To love me?”
Allaston smiled knowingly, hearing her words echoed in his voice. “That is possible,” she whispered coyly. “I missed you while you were away. I am happy to see you have returned whole and healthy.”
God’s Blood, how he wanted to give over to the feelings he was experiencing.
Feelings of joy and contentment that he never knew existed.
Feelings that all men dream about but seldom experience.
Aye, he wanted to experience all of it but he knew he couldn’t.
He couldn’t do that to her. He had to make her understand that they were not meant to be, in any aspect.
With a dreadful sigh, he moved towards the bed, sitting heavily, feeling it sink beneath his weight. His gaze was on Allaston as she moved towards him, her expression still alive with warmth. Already, what he must say to her, what he must do, was killing him.
“Comen Castle was not difficult to breach,” he told her. “The walls were surprisingly inadequate. It took us two days to gain control. When we rounded up the commanding officer and his family, I was faced with the surprising fact that the commander’s father was one of de Velt’s original knights.”
The warmth, the smile, disappeared from Allaston’s face. In fact, she looked a bit bewildered as she sank down into a chair near the hearth.
“I see,” she murmured, eyeing Bretton uncomfortably. “May I ask who it was?”
“Ares de Gault.”