Alixandrea watched him approach, somewhat taken aback at the sheer size of the man. She’d never seen a human so massive in her entire life. The sword sheathed against his mammoth saddle was almost as long as she was tall and probably weighed nearly as much.
“Where is the danger, Matt?” he asked as his visor swung open. “I rode at full speed because I expected to see this place swarming with Henry’s allies.”
Matthew wasn’t intimidated by de Russe in the least; that much was abundantly clear. His easy smile creased his lips.
“You do not read your missives very carefully, do you?” He met the huge mitt that was extended to him in greeting. “I think all you do is hear the name ‘Henry’ and all else fades into hateful madness.”
Gaston’s expression did not change and when he spoke, it was in a voice that bubbled up from the bowels of Hell. “No truer words were spoken,” he agreed. “Nonetheless, I was under the impression that you needed assistance.”
“I think you were looking for an excuse to leave Kidlington. I furthermore think that you have not seen battle in a few months and were hoping for some action here for I know, quite clearly, that I did not ask for aid.”
Gaston gazed steadily at Matthew, who was shorter than him by nearly half a head. As tall as Matthew was, it was truly a statement of de Russe’s size. After what seemed like an eternallytense pause, during which Alixandrea was understandably terrified, the corner of the knight’s mouth twitched.
“How well you know me,” he growled. “If there’s no fight here, then I say we make one.”
Matthew laughed. Alixandrea stood next to her husband, fighting the natural instinct to back away from the enormous knight that growled and grunted before her. De Russe fought off a grin as Matthew snorted, giving Alixandrea an opportunity to study him.
Though she could only see his face, he was clearly an attractive man, something of a surprise given his giant size. He had eyes that were the color of smoke, hidden beneath heavy dark brows, a straight nose and a firmly square jaw. She could see a scar running from the corner of his left nostril, all the way back along his cheek and disappearing underneath the mail hauberk. When he finally did break out in a smile, however brief, his teeth were straight and white. Her initial observation of The Dark Knight gave him something of a human quality, not the horrifying phantom she had heard tale of.
Matthew had her by the elbow, startling her from her train of thought. “My lord, allow me to introduce you to my betrothed.” There was pride in his voice as he spoke. “This is the Lady Alixandrea Terrington St. Ave. My lady, be pleased to meet the mighty Gaston de Russe, my dearest friend and ally.”
Alixandrea dropped into a graceful curtsy, aware that her knees were shaking and hoping it wasn’t obvious. “My lord, ’tis a pleasure to meet you.”
When she straightened, Gaston was gazing at her in the same appraising manner that his man Arik had possessed. His smile was gone.
“My lady,” he said shortly before looking back at Matthew. “I am famished. Show me Wellesbourne hospitality before I faint from starvation.”
Matthew led the way inside Wellesbourne, his hand gently gripping Alixandrea’s elbow. He apparently saw nothing wrong with the way de Russe had greeted her, but she felt very insignificant. The man obviously did not like his first impression of her.
When they reached the entrance, Matthew took them all inside the small solar off the entry. He held on to Alixandrea so that she could not leave. In fact, he seated her next to the well-used map table. The Wellesbourne brothers had been in the great hall and had seen the party come in from the yard; Mark greeted de Russe and his men warmly. Luke was given a slap on the head by Arik and John was given such a greeting that he blushed furiously. The redder his cheeks became, the more Patrick teased him. It was obvious that there was great camaraderie between all of them.
At Mark’s bellow, servants appeared with wine, bread, and a half a wheel of white, tart cheese. Alixandrea watched de Russe pour himself a full goblet, downing the contents in two swallows, and then pour himself another. Somewhere in the drinking he removed his helm, revealing dark hair that had been shorn up the back of his skull and left long to fall over his eyes in the front. He raked his hair back along his scalp as he drank the second cup. She thought it was a rather exhausted gesture.
As the others tossed around light conversation, Alixandrea continued to watch Gaston. For some reason, she found him fascinating. He remained fairly aloof from the others, content with his wine, observing rather than participating. His smoky gray eyes were piercing, all-consuming, all-seeing. She was unnerved by them and clearly curious why Matthew had brought her into this room full of knights. He was still standing next to her, speaking to Arik on the new Belgian charger he had purchased last year. Gently, she tugged on his arm until he finished his conversation and looked at her.
“Perhaps I should go,” she whispered. “You will surely want to speak to these men of things that would not interest me.”
He shook his head. “You will stay.” He raised his voice. “My friends, I would thank you for coming in spite of the fact that you have not fallen into an immediate pit of war and blood. Given time, however, you may get your wish.”
“Speak plainly, Matt,” Gaston said over the rim of his cup. “What goes on here that you would send for me?”
Matthew lifted a pale eyebrow at him. “I asked you to rendezvous with my army upon the road to London. ’Twas you who so brashly rode to Wellesbourne to save me from myself, apparently.” As the others snickered, Matthew grinned at de Russe and continued. “In truth, we have something of a volatile situation on our hands and your presence is not unwelcome. I would have you understand the situation.”
He launched into the tale of Strode, Jezebel, Howard Terrington and the possible marriage broker of John Sutton. Though Matthew delivered the story with neutrality, still, it was a treacherous and shocking account. Alixandrea could not help but feel responsible, as she had brought this all down upon them, unknowingly as it was. Matthew even told them of their secret marriage and the reasons for it. By the end of the story, the de Russe men were sober, serious. Gaston set his cup down.
“So you have a sleeper army within your men,” he said. “At a specific command, they are to erupt from within and wreak havoc.”
“Exactly.”
De Russe’s smoky eyes were cloudy with thought. “Who would have thought Howard Terrington capable of this?” he muttered, with some disbelief. “The man is a rabid supporter of Richard. He has given more money and men to the cause than most and Whitewell has held the road to Richmond for moreyears than I have been alive. Are you sure of this, Matt? Not that I doubt you, but it is an amazing turn in loyalties, I must say.”
Matthew shrugged. “I have refrained from questioning the manservant Strode for fear of causing suspicion among the Whitewell men. I do not want them to think that anything is amiss, at least not yet.”
De Russe looked pointedly at him. “Now that my men are here to reinforce your lines, I would invite the rebellion. I frankly do not want to march the entire way to London waiting for an uprising with each step. If we get it over now, then we’ll all sleep better.”
“True enough. But rather than risk the lives of our soldiers, we can simply separate the Whitewell men from the rest and give them the opportunity to swear fealty to me or meet their fate.”
“You are too kind, Matt. You shall be tucking them into bed with feather quilts next.”
