Bride for a Knight

The day continued to be fine, if chilly, and Mavis would have enjoyed the ride, save for two things: her husband rode several paces ahead as if he didn’t want to talk to her, and the men of their escort riding behind her talked far too much.

“S’truth, I wish I was back at Castle DeLac,” Arnhelm muttered. He was a tall, slender soldier, bearded and the leader of the escort. “Look at him, riding like he’s got a spear up his arse. What kind of lord comes all the way from godforsaken Yorkshire by himself, anyway?”

“One from Dunborough,” his short, stocky brother and second in command, Verdan, answered. “And now, God save us, we got to go back with him!”

“This is a bad time to be heading to Yorkshire, all right. At least we don’t have to stay there. Mind you, she does, poor thing,” Arnhelm said, nodding at Mavis. “It ain’t right, this marriage.”

“Aye, he don’t deserve her. He’s a hard man, and her as sweet and gentle as a lamb.”

Mavis kept her gaze on her husband and tried not to listen, but it proved impossible. Arnhelm had too loud a voice. For his sake, she was rather glad her husband was so far ahead, so he couldn’t hear the men’s conversation. And Roland did sit in the saddle as if his back would break rather than bend if he tried to lean forward.

Determined not to listen to Arnhelm and Verdan anymore, she moved her horse forward until she and Roland were side by side. He might not want to talk to her, but she would speak to him.

She also didn’t want the soldiers returning to DeLac with tales of a silent bride and a brooding groom. While her father might not care, Tamsin would worry. “How much longer will we be traveling today, my lord?”

For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he did.

“A few hours.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Unless the riding is too tiring or uncomfortable for you.”

“Oh, no. I have spent many a happy hour in the saddle. I’m not sore at all.”

He glanced at her again, then looked away just as quickly, and she wondered if he understood what else she was saying. She didn’t want to come right out and tell him he hadn’t hurt her much, not with the escort so close. Instead, she tried a different subject. “If we make good time, how long until we reach Dunborough?”

“Six days.”

“As long as that?” She had been anticipating three days, four at the most if the weather turned bad.

“The ox cannot go quickly.”

She should, of course, have taken that into consideration. “And your castle? Is it as large as DeLac?”

“Larger. It’s one of the strongest in the north,” he replied, and although his expression didn’t change, she could hear his pride.

“The household must have many servants,” she ventured, wishing she’d taken on more of Tamsin’s duties in DeLac before her cousin had married.

“Enough.”

“Come, my lord,” she gently chided. “Can you not be more specific? I am to be chatelaine, after all.”

He frowned. “I’m not certain. Eua can tell you. Or Dalfrid.”

“And they are?”

“Eua has been serving in the household since before I was born, and Dalfrid is the steward.”

While Roland’s answers were short and to the point, at least he was talking to her, and she took that as an encouraging sign. “I understand you have a twin brother. Does he live in the castle, too?”

“Gerrard is my garrison commander.”

“I look forward to meeting him. How fortunate you are to have someone you can trust in that position.”

“I trust him to look after his own interests, and that means protecting Dunborough. And the men like him.”

“Then I’m sure I’ll like him, too.”

“Most women like Gerrard,” Roland brusquely replied. “He can be a very charming fellow when it suits him.”

Given the slightly hostile tone of his response, Mavis answered cautiously. “I have sometimes wished for a brother.”

“You are close to your cousin, are you not?”

“She’s like a sister to me.”

“You set some store on her opinion, then.”

“Of course, as your brother’s must influence yours.”

“I don’t care what my brother thinks.”

There could be no denying that Roland was absolutely, grimly sincere. And yet... “Except in matters of defense of the castle, I assume.”

“Should Dunborough need to be defended, I will take command.”

“What, then, does Gerrard do?”

“He assigns watches and trains the men.”

She was about to suggest that wasn’t much responsibility for the lord’s brother when Roland said, “I should perhaps warn you, my lady, that my brother’s favorite pastime has always been to mock me.”

She simply couldn’t imagine anyone mocking Roland. “No one likes to be teased. Some of the young men who came to DeLac were apparently under the misapprehension that I would enjoy such cruel sport. I quickly let them know that if they mocked anyone, and especially Tamsin, I wouldn’t even look at them. I would never make sport of you, my lord, or think kindly of anyone who did.”

When Roland didn’t answer, she decided it might be best to speak of something other than his brother. “I didn’t think my father was going to let me take Sweetling. That’s my mare. Don’t you think she looks sweet, my lord?”

“She’s a fine horse,” he allowed, his tone somewhat lighter, although his expression was still grim.

“Yours is beautiful. Hephaestus is his name, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“That’s unusual. Wasn’t Hephaestus a god?”

“The blacksmith of the gods, and lame.”

“Oh, yes, I remember now! He’s also called Vulcan, isn’t he? Did you name him Hephaestus because he’s as black as the smoke from a smith’s forge, or a blacksmith’s anvil?”

“I like the name, and he’s a clever beast.”

“You sound proud of him.”