Dagobert gasped before she turned and strode from the room, leaving her words hanging in the silence behind her.
His father had regretted his path?
Dagobert could not believe it.
It was inconceivable!The man had died, blade in hand.He had survived his injuries by will alone, and only long enough to extract a vow to continue the quest from his twelve-year-old son.Dagobert vividly recalled the blaze of passion in his father’s eyes and the weight of that man’s conviction.He could yet feel his father’s hand upon his shoulder that he might hold himself upright to hear Dagobert’s vow.The blood had been running from his father’s midriff, but those gray eyes had brimmed with conviction.
Dagobert would never forget swearing that oath to his dying father.He would never forget being granted the weight of that sword, the one borne proudly by his father and his father before him.He would never forget his father dying in his arms, content that the battle would continue without him.In this moment, Dagobert hated Iolande for daring to cast a slight upon the nobility of the man he had nigh worshiped all these years.How could she utter such hateful words?
How dared she challenge his recollection of his sire?
He would not be twisted to some purpose she refused to declare!
A dream.His mother had no dreams and if she did, she would have discounted them.
He had a dream, a dream given to him by his father, and Dagobert would not abandon it, not for any price.
“My lord, I would counsel...”Eustache began, but Dagobert silenced him with a single glance.
“I will hear no more of it,” he said with uncharacteristic sharpness.“We ride to Paris in one week to meet Brabant, whether the king’s knights linger at Montsalvat or not.”
Chapter 6
“That will be all, Giselle,” Alienor told her maid, checking the tightly-laced cuffs on her kirtle once more.’Twas past time that she showed her face at the board, for she had been absent two days.Iolande’s attention had given her the encouragement she needed to leave the quiet of the solar.
“Sir!”Giselle gasped, her startled exclamation drawing Alienor’s attention.She fairly gasped herself to find the knight Jordan standing on the threshold.He was resplendent in his azure-and-gold tunic and polished mail, with his hair neatly combed.
Did these knights of the king still linger at Montsalvat?To stay so long was an intrusion on Iolande’s hospitality and she had assumed them departed during her convalescence.
“My lady, I would beg a moment of your attention.”
Alienor shook her head, her patience well and truly expired with this man and his impudence.
“I should think not,” she replied, then took a step back when he entered the room as though he meant to stay.She should not have retreated, but ’twas too late to repair her error.A frisson of dread tripped over her skin and she wondered at his intent.
“I would request but a short interview.”
“The location is most inappropriate,” she replied and took a step toward the door.
Undeterred, Jordan smiled, then seated himself in one of the chairs beside the brazier.His confident expression made Alienor suddenly fear for her well-being.
She glanced after Giselle but the girl was gone.Confound the maid for her hasty departure!Alienor swore under her breath, bracing herself for what would surely be an awkward interview.
“I should think the setting most fitting,” Jordan said, his voice deepening with seductive intent that did not ease Alienor’s fears.She clasped her hands together and regarded him mutinously from her position by the door.She could not oust him from the chamber herself, so would simply keep her distance.
“Indeed?”she inquired, seething inwardly all the while.Any person with a whit of intellect would have known himself unwelcome, but Jordan ignored her manner and her tone.
“Indeed,” he confirmed with assurance, gesturing to the chair opposite him.“Would you join me, my lady?”
“I think not,” Alienor spoke tersely, noting too late how his eyes narrowed.
Jordan frowned slightly at his hands and slowly stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, before he spoke, as though he chose his words with care.“As a widow, I would expect your manner to an eligible knight to be more accommodating.”The slight emphasis he placed on the last word fueled Alienor’s worst suspicions.
She eased backward and he was on his feet in a moment, closing the space between them with sure steps.
“Be not afraid, my lady,” he murmured as he grew ever closer.“I would not have any strain between two destined to spend the remainder of their years together.”
“I have no desire to wed again in the near future,” Alienor declared.
