Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (18 page)

Pendragon’s party consisted of
Keir, Kurtis, Chloë , Cassandra, Lucan, Ranulf and twenty soldiers armed to the
teeth.  Michael had been left behind at Pendragon, mostly because of the hard
feelings that existed between him and Kurtis and also because Keir needed the
man to assume command of the fortress while he was gone.

Moreover, Keir wouldn’t put it
past Michael to continue to try and woo Cassandra from his brother, and Keir
didn’t need battling knights all the way to Aysgarth. After the incident in the
great hall, Michael was out for blood. Sullen, defeated, Michael had remained
behind.

It was increasingly apparently,
however, that Cassandra would not be wooed from Kurtis regardless of Michael’s
determination.  The morning after the brawl between Kurtis and Michael, Cassandra
and Kurtis were intently focused on one another, even to the point where Chloë
was giggling happily every time she saw her sister and the knight together,
which was constant. 

Cassandra seemed to have found a
man who handsome, intelligent, and apparently didn’t mind that she was the
bossy sort.  Kurtis, big and silent, simply seemed to acquiesce to her in spite
of the fact he’d never liked outspoken women. With Cassandra, it was
different. 

So they had left the next day for
Aysgarth, meeting Chloë’s deadline, to discuss marital contracts with Anton de
Geld.   It had taken nearly six hours to reach Aysgarth, the mighty bastion of
Coverdale. Chloë had started off on a small gray palfrey, as had Cassandra, but
half way into the ride, both ladies ended up with their respective knights. 
Chloë rode with Keir, finally truly happy for the first time in her life,
looking forward to a life with the man she loved. It all seemed like a dream,
one that she was quite willing to live. She never knew she could be so full of
joy.

Once they reached Aysgarth, the
women disappeared inside with several female servants.  The knights disbanded
the escort, Lucan and Ranulf retreating to the bunkhouse while Keir and Kurtis
headed in to the enormous keep. Lord Coverdale and Anton had not yet returned
from grouse hunting so Keir and Kurtis retreated to the solar to wait out their
return and possibly discuss the strategies of a marriage proposal.  With time on
their hands to wait now, anxiety, an unfamiliar emotion, seemed to be creeping
upon them.

“I have never done this before,”
Kurtis said in a low voice. “It did not occur to me until this moment that I
would be apprehensive.  Since you have already done this once, perhaps you can
offer some advice.”

Keir looked at his brother,
noting the man’s upper lip was sweating, which was highly unusual because
Kurtis was the consummately cool man in any situation. He fought off a grin. 

“The only advice I can give you
is to be forthright and honest,” he told him. “I have a feeling de Geld will
accept nothing less.”

Kurtis sighed faintly and began
to remove his gloves; he’d been standing, stiffly formal, for over an hour, but
his hands were sweating so badly that he had to remove his gauntlets to let his
palms dry off.

“I want to tell you something,”
he said after a moment, his voice soft.

Keir looked over at him from
where he was standing near the lancet window overlooking the glowing bailey.
“What is that?”

Kurtis met his brother’s gaze. 
He seemed to be having trouble finding the correct words. “I said many things
to you last week when I arrived, things that I should not have said,” he lifted
his big shoulders. “I said them out of concern, brother, and nothing else.”

Keir pushed himself away from the
window and moved to the fine pewter pitcher of wine.  Coverdale’s solar was
lavish and he had his choice of several types of alcohol. He selected a heavy
port and poured himself a cup.

“What things?” he asked.

Kurtis looked somewhat
uncomfortable. “I told you to remove the women from Pendragon,” he said. “I
told you to forget about Lady Chloë . I should not have said that.”

Keir looked up from his cup, his
pale blue eyes glittering. “I know you said it out of concern. You do not have
to apologize.”

Kurtis shook his head. “You do
not understand,” he said. “When I said those things to you, I was remembering
the brother who could not function after the death of his wife. I was terrified
for you to go through that hell again. I was looking at it from a safe
standpoint.”

“Safe?”

Kurtis nodded. “There is mental
safety in remaining alone.  The introduction of a woman you care for threatens
that safety because it is too easy to lose control.  You are the strongest man
I know, Keir. To see you crumble… it was a shattering experience, something I
never want to see again. And it is something I never want to personally
experience.”

Keir made his way to his brother,
casually, cup in hand. “Are you telling me that you will not allow yourself to
care for Cassandra?” he cocked a disapproving eyebrow. “It is apparent that she
cares for you a great deal, Kurt. If you are not intending to permit yourself
to become attached to the woman, then….”

Kurtis held up a hand,
interrupting him. “’Tis not that at all,” he assured him, meeting his eye. 
Then he shook his head as if truly baffled. “When I first met Cassandra, I was
physically attracted to her. She is a beautiful woman. But the courting, the
competition with Pembury… it started out as a game but it ended in something
quite different.”

“Different how?”

Kurtis shrugged. “After last
night, I think… I think I love the woman and it scares me to death.”

A smile spread across Keir’s face
and he clapped his brother on the shoulder affectionately. “Do not let it
frighten you,” he said quietly. “Let it be your strength. You can move
mountains with such strength.”

Kurtis looked at his brother,
grinning reluctantly when he saw the expression on his face. “I am sorry I
tried to discourage you from Chloë,” he muttered. “I can see in everything
about you how much she is coming to mean to you.  You were correct; you have
the right to find happiness again.  I only came to understand that once I
realized I was feeling something for Cassandra.”

Keir wriggled his eyebrows in
agreement and squeezed his brother’s shoulder before dropping his hand.  There
wasn’t much more he could say to that.   As he turned around to pour himself
more wine, the door to the solar opened.

Chloë and Cassandra entered along
with an older woman that Keir immediately recognized as Lady Blanche.  The
woman was formal, proper and austere with a hint of her younger daughter’s
beauty. Keir winked at Chloë as he went to greet her mother cordially.

“Lady Blanche,” he said. “It is
good to see you again under better circumstances.”

The Lady Blanche de Geld,
formerly Princess Blanche of Rochedale, eleventh child of Henry the Third, was
cool as she beheld Keir’s handsome face.  He studied her in return; due to the
chaos surrounding her rescue from Exelby, he’d never truly had the chance to
speak with or otherwise interact with the woman. He could see that she had
Chloë’s big brown eyes and her hair was blond, like Cassandra’s.  She had fine
features and skin that was surprisingly smooth for her age.

“Sir Keir,” she greeted him
evenly, her sharp eyes still looking him over. “My daughters tell me that you
have been a gracious host. You have our gratitude for acting protector to my
daughters.”

Keir was modest. “It was my
pleasure, my lady,” he replied. “They are charming guests.”

The older woman grunted faintly,
perhaps with irony. “Charming enough that I understand you wish to offer for
Chloë’s hand,” she said, her eyes finding Kurtis standing several feet away.
“And this must be your brother. Well? Come here, young man. Do not stand in the
shadows where I cannot see you.”

Kurtis immediately moved to stand
next to his brother, feeling his nerves return.  The older women with the
intense brown eyes had him anxious all over again.

“My lady,” he greeted calmly
enough. “I am Sir Kurtis St. Hèver, Captain of the Guard for Yves de Vesci, the
Earl of Northumberland.”

Blanche cocked an eyebrow. “You
are his chief commander?”

“Aye, my lady.  I command his
three thousand-man army.”

“What is your lineage?”

Kurtis felt as if the
interrogation was already underway. There was something in the woman’s manner
that intimidated him far more than any father could have.  He wanted to make a
good impression because he sincerely wanted to marry the woman’s daughter, and
he could feel the sweat popping out on his upper lip again.

“My grandfather served King Henry
the Third and Prince Edward honorably at the Battle of Evesham,” he replied.
“He was part of the successful plot to free Prince Edward from Simon de
Montfort’s captivity and upon Henry’s restoration of the throne, my grandfather
was given the commission Baron Glasbury, a title my father inherited. I will
inherit it from him upon his death.”

Blanche was critical in her
assessment. “Are you propertied?”

“I will inherit Afontawe Castle
in the Welsh Marches upon my father’s death, my lady.  It is a wealthy castle
with tribute from the roads and passes leading from Hereford and Leominster in
to Wales.”

Blanche’s critical eye began to
ease somewhat. “And your family, knight? What of your blood lines?”

Kurtis didn’t miss a step. “We
are Breton, my lady, descended from Saint Hèver of Brittany. We can trace our
family line back more than four hundred years.”

The knight’s quick, forthright
answers had Blanche’s resistance fading. He was concise and formal in his
delivery, something she appreciated.  He seemed a little stiff, also, but she
nodded faintly at the information, digested it, before turning to her eldest
daughter. 

“This is the man you wish to
marry?” she asked.

Cassandra nodded, her eager eyes
on the woman. “Aye, Mother,” she replied. “Kurtis is a good man. He will make a
fine husband.”

Blanche lifted an eyebrow at her
daughter. Although she had been vocal of her disapproval of her husband’s
decision to allow the girls to select their own husbands, secretly, she envied
her daughters. She had wanted to select her own husband as well but her parents
would not hear of it. Royal blood was not something to be treated lightly. With
that in mind, she returned her focus to Kurtis.

“You realize that my father was
King Henry, do you not?” she asked.

Kurtis looked startled.  His gaze
moved between Blanche and Cassandra, terrified that it was something he should
have known and feeling rather peeved that no one had bothered to tell him. He
said a swift prayer that his marriage proposal, based on that information,
would not be doomed before he had a chance to present it.

“Nay, my lady, I did not know,”
he said honestly.

Blanche peered at him somewhat
imperiously. “You are asking to marry a niece of our king.”

Kurtis swallowed hard. “I will
hold title and property and will provide for her well,” he replied evenly. “And
I swear to you that the woman will never want for love or loyalty.”

As Cassandra beamed radiantly,
Lady Blanche appeared dismissive. “Love or loyalty does not a marriage make,”
she sniffed. “You seem to have the necessary lineage, however, and Cassandra
seems convinced that you will make an excellent husband.”

Kurtis wasn’t sure what more he
could say. He looked at Cassandra, grinning faintly at her huge smile.  As he
waited for the next barrage of questions, Blanche abruptly moved on to Keir.

The woman gazed into the face of
the man who had her youngest daughter’s heart, wondering what, other than his
handsome looks, had her daughter so captivated.  She cocked an eyebrow as she
scrutinized the big man from head to toe.

“Hmpf,” she snorted softly. “He
is certainly a comely boy, Chloë .  Quite comely.”

Chloë walked up beside her
mother, winding her hands around the woman’s right arm. “Aye, he is,” she
hugged her mother, her eyes twinkling at Keir, who felt rather like a prize
stallion being inspected. “He is smart and sweet and very brave.”

Blanche would not be softened by
her youngest child, although it was a struggle. Chloë had always had the
ability to bend her mother to her will.

“You are the man who saved us
from Ingilby,” Blanched said.

“Aye, my lady.”

“Did you set your sights on my
daughter even then?”

It was a blunt question but he
suspected, the way the woman had dealt with Kurtis, that she would only respect
someone as direct as she was.  He shook his head.

“Nay, my lady,” he replied. “Lady
Chloë spent her time trying to bash my fingers and gouge my eyes out. I could
not get a good look at her long enough to know if she could invite my interest.
I was too busy defending myself.”

Blanche almost smiled. Almost.
Instead, she cleared her throat and looked at her red-haired daughter, who was
snuggling against her arm.  She had never seen Chloë so happy and it was
somewhat of a labor to not instantly approve of the tall, handsome knight.  For
all of her formal manner, inside, she was a mother just like any other and
wanted to see her daughters happy.