“Who?” she demanded. “Is it de Russe?”
The sergeant grasped her shoulder, gently turning her towards the wharf where the gentle waters flowed and the boats bobbed about like corks. He was pointing down to the water’s edge in the distance.
“There,” he said, some satisfaction in his voice. “He is standing at the edge of the ship with the big black charger behind him. See him now?”
Ellowyn did. Even at a distance, she could see an enormous man in heavy layers of protection, plate armor intermingled with mail. The man was standing at the mouth of the gangway as the last of the soldiers disembarked the cog, and she began to walk in his direction.
The contingent of escort soldiers moved to follow but it was made difficult by the fact that Ellowyn was a small woman and able to dodge around people much more easily than a gang of well-armed men. The sergeant struggled to keep sight of the petite young woman with the deliciously curvy figure, a marvel of womanhood that brought suitors from all corners of the kingdom seeking a glimpse of her glory. With her buttock-length golden-red hair and almond-shaped green eyes, she was an unearthly beauty. But she was also stubborn, opinionated, intelligent and determined, a combination that tended to shake even the most staunch of admirers.
“My lady?” the sergeant called to her as she began to lose herself in the crowed. “You must wait for us, my lady!”
Ellowyn heard his words but she ignored them. She was nearing the ships and resolved to speak with de Russe, as instructed by her father. She had a message to deliver and was determined to be done with it so they could return to the coolgreen fields of Cumbria. She’d been on the road for weeks and was longing for home.
She wound her way through the crowds standing along the smelly wharf, dodging soldiers and wagons as they off-loaded, until she finally came to the edge of the water. Being rather short, she had to stand on one of the many tarred logs that were sunk deep into the shore, logs that the big ships would anchor on to so they wouldn’t drift back out into the river.
Over the heads of others, she could see an enormous warrior standing with his equally enormous charger, watching the last of the men trickle off the boat. She jumped off the anchor log as her escort struggled to catch up to her. She made haste for the knight with the well-worn armor.
“My lord?” she called, gathering up her heavy skirts so she wouldn’t drag them through a huge puddle of horse urine. “My lord, are you de Russe?”
The warrior was speaking with another man in used and dented armor. He heard Ellowyn approach and he turned to look at her. He was without his helm, his cropped hair as black as night and square-jawed, chiseled features holding a handsome edge. However, his eyes were the most noticeable, smoke-colored and intense beneath intelligently arched brows. His gaze lingered on Ellowyn a moment before, without answering, turning back to the conversation at hand.
The man had completely ignored her. Struggling not to become incensed, Ellowyn came up beside him and tried again.
“My lord?” she said politely. “Are you the duke?”
The man acted as if he hadn’t heard her. He continued talking to the knight next to him. Coming to understand now that he was deliberately ignoring her, Ellowyn’s patience began to fracture.
“My lord de Russe?” she didn’t sound so polite. “If you would kindly address me, I would be grateful.”
The knight did nothing more than turn a calculated back to her. Ellowyn found herself staring at the backside of the biggest man she had ever seen. She was perhaps a little over five feet in height, but the knight with his back to her was easily three times her size and well over a foot taller. Standing next to him, her head came to his sternum at the most, and the circumferences of the fists resting upon his hips were nearly as large as her head. She took a moment to inspect the man, but his tremendous size did nothing to deter her rising irritation.
“My lord,” she said shortly, reaching out to thump him on his mailed arm. “I require your attention.”
He didn’t respond. He continued to focus on the man beside him. Infuriated, Ellowyn walked around him and thrust herself in between the two men. Her angry face scowled into his dark eyes.
“You will not ignore me,” she commanded. “I have come on behalf of….”
The colossal knight cut her off. “Be gone, wench,” he rumbled. “Although you are pleasing to the eye, I have no use for you.”
Ellowyn’s mouth popped open in outrage. “You will not speak to me as if I am a common trollop,” she fired back. “I have business with you.”
The knight did nothing more than reach out and push her away. He’d really only meant to brush her aside but with his strength and her diminutive size, he ended up knocking her onto her arse.
Ellowyn ended up in the puddle of urine she had tried so hard to avoid and she bolted up, muddied and dirty, and pushed her way between the men with more determination than before. When the knight wouldn’t look at her, she hammered a fist against his dented breastplate.
“Touch me again and you shall suffer the consequences,” she hissed. “My name is Ellowyn de Nerra and you have eight hundred of my father’s men under your command. My father has sent me with a message for you.”
That got his attention. The warrior looked at her, perhaps more closely this time, although his stone-like expression didn’t register as much.
“You are de Nerra’s daughter?” he asked.
Ellowyn was so angry that she was shaking. “I am,” she seethed, “and when I tell my father how you have shown me such disrespect, he will cease all ties with you, I am sure.”
The warrior could see how furious she was. “Lady Ellowyn, had you told me who you were at the first, I would not have had cause to cast you aside,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice. “You did not identify yourself.”
“And this is how you treat every woman who does not identify herself? Are you so grand and glorious that you feel yourself head and heart above the rest of the world?”
He didn’t rise to her anger, although he had to admit, it had been a long time since he had faced such fury. No one dared show him any emotion other than blind obedience, but this small and quite beautiful woman was different. She had much courage. Her anger threatened to bring a smile to his impassive lips, but he fought it.
