*
She knew shehad a stupid smile on her face.
Elle knew and she didn’t care. She couldn’t stop smiling as she organized the chest in Curtis’ tent, the one she’d taken the tunic and hose from. She’d jumbled everything the night before in her haste to find clothing, so as he went to see his father, she carefully organized the trunk.
This is what it’s like to be happy.
That thought kept rolling over and over in her mind. Happiness she’d never thought she would feel. She didn’t recognize it at all. Ever since last night, and on the return home this morning, she’d had this feeling of lightness in her heart, the same lightness that was reflected on Curtis’ face every time he looked at her. That was when it occurred to her that what she was feeling was joy.
Evidently, they were both feeling it.
But it was a very new sensation, so new that neither one of them could put it into words. Perhaps they didn’t want to because happiness, like anything else, could be fleeting in their world. They’d had such a difficult introduction and, up until last night, a marriage that was destined to end, so no one wanted to jinx this newfound sense of bliss.
All Elle wanted to do was enjoy it.
But she felt like an idiot because she couldn’t get the smile off her face. Perhaps she really didn’t care in the long run, because it was a smile that was only meant for Curtis, and he wasn’t here. He was with his father, who would undoubtedly be ecstatic that they had been able to hash out their differences. Perhaps she’d have the same stupid smile on her face when she spoke to Christopher, because undoubtedly, he would want to talk to her, too.
Just to make sure the joy wasn’t one-sided.
Before they left the village, Curtis had procured bread and cheese from the inn’s kitchen as it began to prepare food for the morning meal. Elle had ridden behind him all the way back to Brython, bread in one hand and cheese in the other, wolfing it down as she told him about the nearest town to Brython on the Wales side of the border. Because that village was relatively close to her brother’s castle, she had spent a lot of time there. She knew the people and they knew her. She and Curtis had a good discussion about the town and its functions and the people in general. It had been the first real conversation they had that didn’t involve angst or torment or terrible reflections.
It had been…normal.
Once they reached the encampment, Curtis told her that he was sorry their journey had ended and thanked her for a pleasant ride. Unused to any kind of flattery, Elle turned bright red, and he had simply laughed. But he also took her hand and kissed her, leading her back to his tent, which was now technically a tent that belonged to both of them. But he had only returned for a short while before he went off in search of his father to inform the man of his return. And quite possibly to let him know that the marriage was finally agreeable.
Elle certainly thought it was.
The whole morning had been like a dream.
In fact, it was difficult to keep her mind on her task. Her head was in the clouds. She was only half finished repacking Curtis’ trunk when she wandered to the tent flap, folding a pair of breeches, looking out over the encampment in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her new husband. There was no husband, but she could see Christopher’s tent. It was quite close, in truth, so it was easily in her field of vision. That big blue tent with the blue and gold standards flying above it. There were several soldiers milling about in front of the tent, and knights wandered in and out.
And that was when she saw it.
A knight dragging Melusine by the hair.
Shocked, Elle dropped the breeches in her hands and rushed out of the tent just as the knight and Melusine entered Hereford’s tent. But instinct ran strong with her, the instinct to protect those she loved and the instinct to protect herself against the English, so she grabbed the nearest weapon she could find, which happened to be a piece of wood meant for Hereford’s fire. There was a pile of it near his tent. She rushed toward the opening, only to hear someone shouting about capturing a spy. She could hear Melusine weeping.
When she burst in through the tent flap, Elle’s gaze fell on the man who had dragged Melusine by the hair as her cousin cowered on the ground at his feet. Just as the man turned to look at her, startled that someone had come up behind him, Elle swung the wood at his head and bashed him in the face. The knight, lashing out with his hands to defend himself, caught Elle in the jaw and sent her tumbling backward.
After that, it was chaos.
Elle was dazed as someone picked her up off the ground and took her out of the tent. Someone else had grabbed Melusine. As Elle shook off the stars, she could see that it had been Hereford himself who took her out of the tent, but now he was rushing back into the shelter to prevent Curtis from killing the knight who had dragged Melusine by the hair. There was shouting going on, and some pleading, and suddenly, the entire side of Hereford’s tent blew open as Curtis threw the half-conscious knight out of the tent. Quite literally, the man had been flying through the air. The tent stakes were still in the ground, but the fabric had torn as the knight hit the ground heavily. As Elle watched in shock, Curtis went charging after the knight as his father jumped in to prevent any more damage from being done.
“No more,” Christopher commanded, holding Curtis back with help from Peter. “No more, Curt. Take your wife and cousin and get out of here. Go back to your tent. Please.”
Curtis was like a raging bull. Peter had him from behind, holding him back, but he wasn’t moving. He was like a rock, hard and immovable. Roi, who had been bent over the knight on the ground, came over as well, and between Peter and Roi, they managed to push Curtis back in the direction of Elle, who was clutching Melusine. One look at her husband’s face and she very nearly burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so very sorry. But he was hurting Melusine, and I had to stop him!”
When Curtis saw her face, something changed. He’d been rigid and flushed, but the moment he saw her, his expression loosened and he pulled away from his brothers. He went to her and put a gentle hand under her chin, tipping her face up to look at him.
“Did he hurt you?” he said, trying to get a look at any marks or bruises. “His strike was hard.”
She shook her head, but the tears were beginning to pool. “Please do not be angry with me,” she said. “I could not let him hurt Melly. He had her by the hair!”
Curtis was oddly calm for having been thoroughly enraged only moments earlier. “I know,” he said patiently, putting an arm around her and pulling her against him. “You are not to blame. He deserved it. But are you sure he did not injure you?”
It took Elle a few moments to realize that he wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with the knight. She was positive his fury was directed at her, and to realize it wasn’t brought a significant amount of shock.
