Chapter Nineteen #2
“You will be sorry you did that,” he told her as he moved for the door. “What if I am struck down by lightning in the bailey? What if the earth opens up to swallow me as I move down the motte? You will be very, very sorry that you did not kiss me farewell. You will regret being so terrible to me.”
By now, Ellowyn was trying not to grin at his dramatic account of the dangers awaiting him outside, none of which had anything to do with an impending battle.
“Nay, I will not,” she said callously, focused on her yarn. “If you are struck down or swallowed up, it will be God’s way of punishing you for being so mean to me.”
He stopped at the door, his eyebrows lifted. “I am mean?” he repeated, feigning outrage. “Madam, you have a twisted sense of perception. Are you going to kiss me or not?”
She lifted her gaze, fixing him in the eye. “Why should I?”
“Because you love me. You said so yourself.”
She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “I can love you and still be annoyed with you.”
“Nay, you cannot. Come here, you silly wench. Kiss me.”
She indicated the heavy blanket on her lap. “I cannot,” she said. “You must come back over here if you want a kiss.”
He stomped back over to her, so loudly that the dogs began to bark.
Then he growled as he swooped down on her, listening to her squeal as he nibbled her ear, her neck.
She giggled uncontrollably as his nibbles turned to kisses, and his mouth eventually slanted hungrily over hers.
Ellowyn responded eagerly to him and the knitting needle fell to the floor.
“The next time you do not kiss me on demand, I shall not return for a second attempt,” he insisted rather lustily. “You will obey me the first time, do you hear?”
She grinned at him slyly, causing him to kiss her hard enough to snap her head back. She gasped, and giggled, as he nibbled her lips, her cheeks, and her face. It was a sweetly tender moment yet wholly passionate moment.
“I hear you,” she whispered.
“Hear me and obey.”
“I will.”
“For how long?”
She giggled again. “At least until you leave the keep.”
With a grin, he kissed her again and made his way to the keep entry, turning to glance at her before he left.
She was illuminated by the firelight and the torch in the room, giving her an ethereal quality.
Brandt had never seen anything so beautiful in his life, reinforcing the fact that she was indeed worth fighting for.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but he had his suspicions.
*
“You married her?”
Brandt couldn’t understand why Deston was genuinely shocked. It was a struggle not to sound sarcastic in response.
“I told you I wanted to marry her,” he said steadily. “Did you truly think I would not?”
Standing in Guildford’s great gatehouse, separated by the lowered portcullis, Deston and Brandt faced each other.
Knights stood around both men, in the shadows as silent and deadly support, while torches burned hot and dense, sending black oily smoke against the low ceiling.
Brandt held a torch simply so he could see in the darkness, but Deston was somewhat obscured by the blackness.
It was difficult to see the man very well.
Even so, he could still see the outrage on his face.
This is not going well already, Brandt thought.
That was an understatement. As he watched, Deston’s face turned shades of red, even in the darkness.
“I told you that I did not want you for my daughter,” he snarled. “You had no right to take her.”
Brandt remained cool. “It is strange how I was your ally and comrade when I returned your men to Erith,” he said, “but the minute I spoke to you of marriage to Ellowyn, I became your enemy. I am as good if not better than any man in England for your daughter, and your weak argument of war tactics and brutal rumors are without merit. You insulted me without basis.”
Deston was furious. “Basis or not, she is my daughter to give,” he said. “I denied you yet you still took her. It is thievery!”
“It is marriage.”
“I shall take this to Edward!”
Brandt couldn’t help it. He smirked. “Do as you must,” he said.
“I am sure Edward will tell you to shut your mouth and go home, but you are welcome to bother the King of England with something as petty as a man marrying your daughter without permission. Don’t you think the king has greater things to worry about? ”
Deston started to snap back at him but held his tongue.
He knew, as everyone else did, that Brandt was much favored by Edward.
It wouldn’t do him any good to go to the king and try to charge de Russe with thievery.
In fact, it might upset the king and work against him.
So he cooled, eyeing the man through the iron grate, and thought of his next move.
He was exhausted, in pain, and furious beyond reason.
Because of it, his thought processes weren’t as clear as they should have been.
“You had no right to take her,” he said, sounding despondent now. The anger was fading. “Why did you do it? Why did you show me such disrespect? You call yourself an ally but an ally would not have shown such disregard for my position.”