“Do you know that I have never seen such a sweet face?’ he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
She simply grinned at him, her lips red from his furious kisses. Matthew finally climbed out of the carriage and mounted his charger. He did not replace his left gauntlet; the hand and the ring remained exposed to the world the entire way back to the Tower.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Tower ofLondon was an enormous complex with catacombs of chambers, passages, halls and towers. A concentric fortress, it had gone through several building renovations since its original construction on the banks of the Thames beginning in the year 1066.
Alixandrea was overwhelmed with the sheer size of the place as Matthew brought their party through the gaping front gate, passing through the double-portcullis entry and then passing through another gate that led to the vast inner ward. Once through the second gate, he made an immediate left and headed for one of the massive inner towers. She would later learn that it was called the Wakefield Tower.
In the center of the courtyard sat an enormous pale-stoned structure four stories to the sky. Narrow, cylindrical towers marked the four corners, topped with turrets that were littered with black birds. Sun glinted off the roof, creating flashes of light. Matthew helped Alixandrea from the carriage and she nearly fell, not paying attention to where her feet were placed as she absorbed the enormity of the keep. It was mesmerizing. Matthew grinned as he helped Caroline from the cab.
“The White Tower,” he told her before she could ask.
Alixandrea poked a finger at it. “That is the White Tower?”
“Aye.”
It was a struggle to keep her mouth from hanging open. “It is colossal. I do not know what I had expected, but surely there is nothing larger in the world.”
The men were moving around them, gathering capcases and other materials from the carriage. Alixandrea had to step out of the way or risk being run down by over-eager soldiers.
“I shall take you to it after we’ve had a chance to settle,” Matthew said. “I would assume you would like to rest a while before this eve.”
She turned to look at him. “What is happening this eve that I will need my rest?”
“A feast, of course. And I am sure that Richard will request an audience.”
Her eyes widened. “The king?”
The corners of his mouth twitched as he pulled a small valise out of the cab and handed it to a waiting servant. It was as much of an answer as he would provide. Alixandrea had to remind herself yet again that The White Lord of Wellesbourne was at the right hand of the king. Until this moment, none of that had seemed real. It was tales she had simply heard of the man; now, however, she was about to become acquainted with the reality of his station. It was a heady awareness.
Mark suddenly rounded the corner of the cab, ripping off a gauntlet in a sharp move. His visor was raised, his dark eyes glaring like shards of obsidian. It was clear that he was still boiling over his confrontation with Matthew earlier.
“Caroline,” he barked. “Come with me.”
Matthew’s smile faded as he watched Caroline meekly pursue her husband. Alixandrea watched also, almost daring Mark to make eye contact with her. He seemed to have an inordinate amount of hostility and she did not understand why.
“He is not angry with her, is he?” she looked at Matthew. “What has she done?”
Matthew’s gaze lingered on his brother until the man disappeared from view around the side of the cab.
“She’s done nothing,” he said simply. “Come along, love. Let us get you settled into our rooms.”
He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. Alixandrea followed him to the enormous tower and into the stone-arched entry. It was cool and musty inside. They ascended the steps to the second floor, took a turn, and opened up onto an enormous corridor. It seemed to go on forever. They walked a nominal amount of time before coming to a great carved door, which was already open. There were servants milling around inside as Matthew ushered her into the room.
The chamber was done in the blue and white colors of the Wellesbourne crest, with expensive chairs arranged neatly in the center. A wide-mouth hearth blazed over to her left and a large tapestry of a knight astride a white horse covered one wall. There were all manner of plush furnishings that were unknown in the more austere, battle-oriented castles that Alixandrea had known. This place was made for comfort. Properly awed, she gawked as she studied the room.
“It is beautiful,” she gasped. “Do you truly warrant such richness?”
Matthew grinned. “I am content in the knight’s quarters, but somehow, I was issued these rooms at Richard’s insistence. I rarely use them.”
She shook her head, once again reviewing the opulence. “A pity,” she sighed. “I have never seen such luxury. I fear I may become accustomed to it and grow irreversibly spoiled.”
Coming up to stand behind her, he wrapped his arms around her, his face in the side of her head as he inhaled the delicate scent of her hair. “You would be the one person to truly justify such lavish attention,” he said. “I would like to spoil you.”
His hot breath against her head sent chills bolting down her spine. “Careful what you say. You may regret it.”
“Never.”
