Chapter Seven #4
He corrected himself. “Wynny, I am not entirely certain that is wise,” he tried to make it simple so her alcohol-soaked brain could understand.
“Do you realize what you are saying? You are telling me to take my clothes off, and you will take your clothes off, and the only thing keeping propriety as our cloak and shield is a promise we will not look at each other. Does that sound fitting to you?”
She blinked, thinking hard on his words. “Aye,” she said, looking up at him as if confused by his statement. “I will trust you if you tell me you will not look.”
Brandt had never before seen such naked, complete and utter trust. It was in her eyes, her expression, everything about her, and he didn’t find her drunken state so funny anymore.
He’d had the faith of many people over his life, mostly out of fear and out of respect for his skills as a man and as a warrior, but never had he seen it so trusting and blatant as he did at this very moment in that lovely little face.
She was trusting him as a man, not as a warrior or a duke.
To refute her would be to insult her. He didn’t want to do that.
More than that, she was determined to take a bath and in her condition, he was coming to think it would not be wise to leave her alone.
She could hit her head, pass out, or worse. He didn’t want that to happen.
“I will not look,” he said softly.
Satisfied, Ellowyn went about undressing in a very uncoordinated fashion.
Brandt turned away, acutely aware of every sound she made, as he pulled off his heavy padded tunic, so wet and uncomfortable, and put it out by the fire to dry out.
Off came the boots as well as they ended up in front of the flame.
As he sat with his back to Ellowyn, he began to carve into the cooling mutton when he heard the water behind him slosh as she climbed in.
He was hit in the back of the neck with warm water as she began to splash about.
“My lord?” she called.
“I must tell you something,” he said, mouth full of mutton.
“What is that?”
“Since you have so graciously given me permission to call you Wynny,” he said, “I must tell you to call me Brandt in private. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” she said, splashing around some more. “Brandt?”
“Aye?”
“Do you have any friends?”
“A few.”
She fell silent a moment, sneezing as she splashed.
“I do not,” she said, rather forlornly. “Not really. I have cousins, of course, but it seems as if I only really have my family. We are related to Simon de Montfort on my father’s side, so when people find out, it seems no one wants to know us.
After all these years, that part of the family is still frowned upon. ”
“Did you not make friends when you fostered?”
“I did not foster.”
He was surprised. “You did not foster?” he repeated, turning around to look at her but remembering his promise not to watch her bathe, so he quickly turned back to face his meal. “That is unheard of. Who took charge of your education, then?”
“My grandfather,” she said. “Braxton de Nerra. He was a very smart man. He taught me everything from when I was young. Did you know him?”
Brandt nodded as he tucked into the bread and gravy. “I knew him,” he said. “He was a great knight.”
In the tub, Ellowyn was busy soaping her feet.
“He passed away six years ago,” she said softly.
“But he was healthy and vital right until the end. My grandmother misses him every day, you know. They loved each other very much. I suppose they are why I am determined to marry a man I love. I saw what they had together and I want that, too.”
Brandt chewed on his bread, digesting their conversation, reflecting on the intelligent and loyal woman he was coming to know.
She was talking quite a bit, that was true, but he knew it was because of the alcohol.
He was coming to learn a lot about her, understanding her, and liking it.
In fact, sitting in the little room with the blazing fire, he was more comfortable with her than he had been with almost anyone in his life.
There was something pure about the woman, open to a fault, but also strong-willed.
She reminded him a lot of her father. She was a woman who knew what she wanted in life and would get it. He admired that.
“Brandt?” Ellowyn cut into his train of thought.
“Aye?”
“Do you think you shall ever marry again?”
He swallowed the bread in his mouth and went for the wine. “I have not given it much thought,” he said. “Perhaps.”
“You should, you know,” she said. “You should have sons to carry on the de Russe name. Who will inherit your dukedom if you do not?”
“As I said, I have not given it particular thought.”
“Are you returning to war again?”
“Eventually.”
“Then you should think about marrying again and having a son,” she said, splashing around behind him. “You should do this before you leave again, just to be safe.”
“I will take it under advisement.”
“Perhaps I will help you find a wife,” she said decisively. “I can do that, you know. I will search high and low for someone worthy of you.”
He smiled into his cup. “Although I am honored you would think so highly of me, marriage is not a priority at this time. I have many other things that need my attention and a wife is not among them.”
She wasn’t put off in the least. “When you are ready, you will let me know.”
His expression turned distant, pensive, perhaps interested more than he cared to admit. “I will let you know.”
He finished off the wine as she finished off her bath. She sneezed and coughed, but it was far less than she had been doing earlier. True to his promise, he didn’t turn around to look at her as she slithered out of the tub, dried off with a corner of the bed linen, and dressed.
By the time she came into view, she was clad in a simple shift that was of one piece, like a dressing gown.
It was some kind of heavier fabric, perhaps cotton or even lamb’s wool, which clung to her figure almost indecently.
In fact, Brandt had to make an effort not to stare at her as she passed in front of him and sat down on the opposite side of the table.
Her long red hair was damp, and braided, and he caught distinct whiffs of lavender.
It was a clean and delicious smell. He was starting to realize that he’d never in his life seen such a radiant and pure creature.
“You are breaking your promise, you know,” he remarked as she began to pull the bread apart.
Curious, she looked at him. “What do you mean?”
He was looking at his wine. “You promised not to look at me in my half-dressed state.”