“Who is your brother?”
Luke took a long drink from his mug. “The great and mighty Matthew Wellesbourne, favored of the king.” He leaned near her, enough so that she instinctively tilted away from him. “Have you heard of The White Lord of Wellesbourne? Well, that would be him. But if you are thinking of inviting him to our table, do not bother. He is greatly troubled today. He would be horrible company.”
The White Lord of Wellesbourne. She’d known that name for half of her life and the realization took her breath away. But how was it possible that he was here,now? He was supposed to be at Wellesbourne Castle; but then again, so was she.
Alixandrea stared at the dark figure, trying to get a better look. Although she thought she may have an inkling of the answer to her question, she asked anyway. “What is his trouble?”
“His wife is coming to Wellesbourne.”
“And this is a bad event, I take it?”
“Aye,” Luke took another drink. “Well, she is not exactly his wife. She is his betrothed. They were promised to each other years ago but he had been putting her off until her uncle laid his claim and told my father that if Matthew put off the marriage again, there would be serious consequences. So now, he is forced. He has come here to drown his sorrows in ale and wenches.”
Alixandrea lifted an eyebrow, nodding her head slowly as if in complete sympathy. “My goodness,” she said. “How utterly awful. Is his betrothed so terrible, then?”
Luke shrugged. “We do not know. But, then again, most noble women are some manner of terrible. But she comes with a large dowry and four hundred soldiers, so she must be worth something, eh?”
He laughed at his statement. Alixandrea smiled thinly. “Aye, she must be worth something,” she agreed.
Luke licked the ale from his lips, his gaze steady upon her. “I am sure that if my brother had a wife like you, there would be nothing horrible about it. I would take you without four hundred fighting men and a sizable dowry.”
He meant it as a compliment but it only served to further insult her. “How fortunate for me,” she said, grossly tired of his company. The rolling carriage was starting to look inviting and she was suddenly desperate to leave. “If you will excuse me, SirLuke, I will take my leave and continue my journey. Thank you for your company and fine conversation.”
Luke put a hand on her arm, preventing her from rising. “You cannot leave so soon,” he begged. “I do not even know your name.”
Now it was her turn to smile, an ironic gesture. “I believe you already know it.”
He blinked at her. “I do? Pray, lady, if thy name is Angel, then I do.”
She stared at him, unwavering. “I have four hundred soldiers outside waiting for me as well as a sizable dowry. I am on my way to Wellesbourne Castle to marry my betrothed. Now, can you still say that you do not know my name?”
Luke’s intoxicated blue eyes met her gaze for a long moment before gradually dissolving into an expression of horror.
“You…?” He pushed back in his chair and ended up toppling it onto its side. Luke was on his feet, babbling as he struggled to overcome his drunkenness. “My lady, I did not know. Forgive me, please. I had no idea.”
She stood up, a small lady compared to the sizable knight. But her expression was the most powerful thing in that room at the moment.
“Either you are a complete fool or your brother truly has no sense of propriety that he would allow you to speak so,” she snarled. “How many other people have you told that ridiculous story to? How many people will travel from this place spreading the tale of the heir of Wellesbourne’s hideous betrothed?”
“No one, my lady, I swear it.” He bellowed in the general direction of his brother. “Matt! A little help, please?”
By this time, Matthew heard the raised voices and glanced up to see Luke on his feet with the lady advancing on him. He’d seen her when she’d entered the inn, just like everyone else and, likeeveryone else, had been momentarily entranced by her ethereal beauty.
But he had no inclination to pursue her further and allowed Luke to behave as Luke was so capable of behaving. Now he was wondering what his brother had said to make the lady turn on him.
Matthew was far enough away that he had not heard their conversation although he had heard his brother’s loud pleas for help. But he shook his head in response, turning back to his fourth cup of ale. Luke saw that his brother did not understand the severity of the situation and he made haste over to his table.
“Matt,” he hissed. “Did you not hear me? We have… trouble!”
He was pointing at the lady. Matthew looked over at her again, a delicious goddess with porcelain skin. “What trouble could that be? Let me guess; she is a Tudor wench and you have seriously insulted both her loyalties and her parentage.”
Alixandrea heard the “wench” portion and came to a halt. Luke shook his head, sickened at the course the conversation had taken.
“Nay,” he whispered, hoping his brother would not take his head off for his stupidity. “She is your betrothed.”
Matthew was lingering over his cup, his gaze distant. But the moment Luke spilled the words, his blue eyes took on the most peculiar look. It was as if he had suddenly become frozen, unable to think or move. One could literally see his fingers stiffening with tension and Luke was terrified that his brother was going to suddenly snap. Instead, he blinked his eyes in a slow, reptilian motion. It was a frightening gesture.
“Do you know this for a fact?” he asked steadily.
