Chapter Eleven #3
St. Hèver, both de Laras, and le Bec stood up when they saw Ellowyn and her grandmother approach.
Le Bec had cups of wine in both hands, double-fisting his drink, but quickly set them down when Alex elbowed him.
Ellowyn smiled at the men as she came upon the table, especially at Brennan with whom she had grown friendly. The young, blond knight smiled back.
“Good eve, my lords,” she greeted the group, listening to their polite replies. “This is my grandmother, the Lady Gray de Nerra. Her husband was Braxton de Nerra.”
The name Braxton de Nerra carried a great deal of weight. The knights shifted their attention to Lady Gray.
“Lady de Nerra,” Dylan greeted. “ ’Tis a great honor to meet the wife of Braxton de Nerra.”
Gray smiled politely and indicated for the men to sit, which they did. Ellowyn sat down next to St. Hèver as Gray took the chair at the corner of the table.
“It is an honor for us to have the House of de Russe as our guests,” Gray said, waving on the servants to bring forth more food and drink. “I understand that you have all seen an arduous year this long past.”
Dylan reclaimed his cup. “No more arduous than most, I suppose,” he replied. “Edward of Wales has a claim to France and the French people do not wish to honor it. We must convince them.”
As the knights snorted, Gray grinned at the warring man’s humor. “I am sure you see it that way.”
Dylan looked surprised but it was all for show. “What other way is there to see it?”
Gray shook her head reproachfully, delicately sipping at her wine. “No other way, young man,” she assured him. “You sound as if you have generations of warring spirit behind you.”
Dylan nodded. “My father is Tate de Lara, the Duke of Carlisle,” he replied. “My grandfather was Edward Longshanks. My brother and I are bloodthirsty from way back.”
Gray’s eyebrows lifted, impressed. “De Lara,” she murmured. “Of course I have heard of him. My husband said many times he is the man who should have been king.”
Dylan shrugged. “I believe he is often glad that he was not,” he replied.
“Although he was Longshank’s firstborn, my grandfather and grandmother were not married.
My father was an indiscretion of the king’s youth, but he was treated as a royal son.
My uncle, Edward the Second, granted my father the title of Earl of Carlisle but his son, Edward the third, granted my father the dukedom of Carlisle.
My father is quite content, I assure you. ”
“He is still alive?”
Dylan took another gulp of wine. “Indeed he is,” he replied. “Alive and stronger than I am.”
Gray smiled. As she and Dylan engaged in further conversation, Brandt entered the hall with de Reyne trailing after him.
Brandt and Magnus had gone back to the kitchen yard when Ellowyn and Gray had vacated it to quickly remove the assassin’s body.
Clad in leather breeches and a rough linen tunic, with boots to his knees, Brandt looked utterly masculine and divine.
At least, that was Ellowyn’s first thought when she saw him.
Another thought occurred to her also. He wasn’t wearing his armor.
She’d never really seen the man without all of his armor.
Even outside in the kitchen yard, he’d had pieces of it on.
He must have changed out of it rather quickly. Ellowyn’s heart fluttered madly.
Brandt’s gaze lingered on her as he headed for St. Hèver, who was seated immediately to her left.
“You are in my seat,” he told the knight.
Brennan, ever obedient, jumped up without question and went to sit further down the table. Brandt took his seat next to Ellowyn and accepted a cup of wine handed to him by a hovering servant.
“Lady Ellowyn,” he greeted evenly, as if they had not just seen each other moments before. “You are looking lovely this eve.”
Ellowyn flushed. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, rather innocently. “It seems strange not seeing you every moment of every day, as I did when we were traveling. Have you been busy today?”
Brandt began helping himself to the bread and cheese artfully displayed on the table. “Verily,” he told her. “The de Lara brothers can attest to that.”
Alex heard his name. Since his brother was still engaged in conversation with Lady de Nerra, he answered.
“I am not entirely sure we have had time to rest and relax in over three years,” he said. “This afternoon, your father allowed us to inspect some green chargers he had recently purchased. Your father has a good eye for horseflesh.”
Ellowyn nodded sincerely. “Indeed he does,” she replied. “We both do. I purchased those young chargers, in fact.”
“You did?” Brandt repeated, somewhat incredulous. “My lady, they are some of the finest horses I have ever seen. Your father said he would negotiate a good price for them.”
Ellowyn looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “I will negotiate a good price for them,” she clarified. “I purchased them, after all. I will be the one to barter their sale.”
Brandt bit off a grin. “You will be easy on me, will you not?” he wanted to know. “You frighten me.”
Ellowyn giggled. “I will try.”
“Pray do.”