“I think the ale and wenches can spare me.” He extended a trencher-sized hand, clad in a heavy leather glove. “I would ask that you accept my apologies for a harsh beginning. Given the choice, it would have certainly not been my intent. May I guide you?”
She eyed him, her bronze eyes a maelstrom of fire, emotion and mystery. But she silently put her hand over his, a tiny mitt against his size. In doing so, it was perhaps a reluctant acceptance of his apology. Matthew tried not to stare at her as he led her from the tavern.
The sunlight outside was blinding. Matthew’s eyes scanned the area, hawk-like, until they came to rest on a cluster of armed men a few hundred yards away from the inn. From a two-second perusal, he could see that they appeared to be seasoned, seemingly well fed and outfitted. That would translate into a strong contingent, he hoped. He led the lady in their general direction.
“I hope you had a pleasant journey from the north,” he tried to make conversation, sensing that perhaps all was not forgiven yet.
“It was long, my lord,” she said. “Long and bumpy at times.”
He nodded. “Lack of rain has made the roads miserable.”
“Indeed, my lord.”
The small talk quickly died. Glancing behind, he saw that Luke had retrieved their chargers from the livery. The two soldiers and the skittish maid also followed in a suspicious group. Shortly, they reached the fighting men clustered in a grove of trees who now stood up from their various positions of rest as their lady appeared with a colossal knight on herarm. Strode, half-asleep inside the carriage where he was not supposed to be, shot out of the cab like a scalded cat.
“My lady,” he rushed upon her, fully prepared to save her from the massive warrior even to his own death. “Are you well? Was there trouble?”
“No trouble,” she told him. “In fact, the stop at this tavern seems to have been fortuitous. I would present you to Sir Matthew Wellesbourne, your new liege, and his brother, Sir Luke.”
The foot soldiers, shocked from their momentary confusion, scurried to form a line for their new lord. Strode, his mouth gaping with surprise, bowed deeply.
“My lord,” he said. “We were not told that you would meet us on the road. Forgive me if we did not rendezvous at the appropriate place or time. I had no…”
Matthew put up a hand. “Your orders were to take the lady to Wellesbourne, which is what you were doing. I just happened to be here and we met inside.”
Strode stood up from his prostrate position, his eyes still full of confusion and, Alixandrea thought, fear. “I sent two men to look after her, my lord,” he said. “She was not without protection. I have known the lady her entire life and would not dream of allowing her in such a place without proper escort.”
He was babbling. Alixandrea cast him a long look, silently ordering him to shut his mouth. Matthew apparently did not notice. He was looking over the troops.
“Do you still have the full contingent of four hundred?” he asked. “None have run off or fallen ill during the trip?”
“We’ve lost none, my lord,” Strode replied. “Would you inspect them?”
“Not now,” Matthew said. “Wellesbourne is a little more than a mile to the south. I shall inspect them once we’re in the fortress.”
Alixandrea listened to the conversation, noting the interest in her betrothed’s voice. It reminded her, yet again, of the truth of this marriage contract; he was marrying her for the money and manpower, nothing more. She was so foolish in that she had hoped he would have seen some value in her. She was no more than the soldiers and valuables she carried; she was a commodity. She would have to accept that.
She removed her hand from his. “If there will be nothing else, my lord, perhaps we should continue to the castle. The hour grows late.”
He gazed down at her, watching the sunlight play off of her bronze hair. Gold, brown and copper glistened like a shower of light.
“A wise suggestion, my lady.” He looked at Strode. “What is your name, man?”
“Strode, my lord.”
“Very well,” he nodded shortly. “Take the lady down this road, through the village, until you come to Wellesbourne. Stop for no one and make all due haste. These parts are not safe after dark, even to me.”
Reaching over, he took Alixandrea’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. She tried not to look surprised by the bold action; it was a claiming gesture. Silently, he led her over to the carriage, opened the door, and very kindly helped her inside.
All the while, Alixandrea kept feeling that same innate gentleness she first sensed in him. The man was fearsome by size alone, but deep down, she felt there was more. Perhaps it was something he did not like anyone to see.
Their eyes met briefly as she took her seat and the corners of his eyes crinkled, as close to a smile as she had so far seen. He’d remained stoic and emotionless to this point, and she thanked him with a dip of her head. As soon as Matthew removed himself from the doorway, Jezebel leapt into the carriage and the doorslammed tightly. Outside, she heard a few barked orders and the carriage lurched, once again to reel and roll that last terrible mile to Wellesbourne.
As the carriage gained a sickening rhythm on the road, she was aware of her disappointment that he had not asked her to ride with him that last mile. Or she could have ridden her paltry in stride with his great warhorse, and all of the inhabitants of Wellesbourne would have seen that Matthew was indeed accepting this wife he had been expecting for ten years.
She could only imagine what all of Wellesbourne thought of her, the great chain of doom out to attach herself to Matthew and ruin his life. But he had not asked her, indicative of the level of enthusiasm he had for this marriage. She sank back into her seat, disenchanted and moody.
The horses were just gaining their stride when the carriage suddenly lurched to a halt. Unprepared, Alixandrea went skidding across the cab and hit her head on the boxy wooden headrest on the opposite seat. Stars burst in her vision and the blood began to flow.
