Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (25 page)

“Then you shall marry him,”
Blanche looked up from her needlework, which she had patiently been working
throughout the entire violent argument between her husband and daughters.  She
glanced at Anton as if daring him to contradict her. “If Keir returns from
Wales, well and good. You shall marry him.  But if he does not return, your
father only wants you to have the best opportunities.  Your selection of
husbands as a widow will not be nearly as prestigious as your selection as a
maiden. Although I do not agree with your father’s tactics, I understand his
reasoning. In the end, he is only thinking of you, Chloë.”

Chloë looked at her mother,
wishing she had more support from the woman. But something stuck in her mind,
something both of her parents had said –
an unwed maiden
. After last
night, Chloë was no longer a maiden and that little fact was verging on the tip
of her tongue.  She wasn’t ashamed of it in the least. Perhaps if she told
them, they would have to allow her to marry Keir.  It was her secret weapon,
one that could easily be used against her, but she had to take the chance.

“I will not command as high a
price as you think,” she said deliberately, turning baleful eyes to her father.
“I am no longer a maiden, Father. There is no value in used goods. You must
marry me to Keir now because I belong to him, body and soul. I am his forever and
you cannot separate us.”

Anton’s eyes bugged with shock,
with outrage. “He stole your innocence?”

“Nay!” Chloë shouted back. “I
gave it to him willingly because I love him and because you promised him that
we could be wed. I gave my innocence to the man intended to be my husband. Now
you would seek to take that away from us both!”

She was screaming by the time she
finished, so much so that Blanche stood up and went to her, putting her hands
on her daughter to calm her. Chloë was struggling against tears but it wasn’t
working; little sobs kept bubbling out and she wiped at her eyes, her nose. 
Blanche, never one to be particularly comforting, put a soothing hand to her
daughter’s red cheek.

“Anton,” she said in a low, firm
voice. “Perhaps we should reconsider. You did give your word to Chloë and Sir
Keir.”

Anton began to stomp around,
throwing the cup in his hand that was half-full of wine. “I will not hear
this,” he shouted. “Now Chloë is compromised, the most beautiful woman in the
whole north of England, and she is cheapened like a whore by a knight who could
not resist her flesh. Who would want to marry her now that St. Hèver has marked
her?”

“I would rather be a whore than a
liar,” Chloë screamed at him, the tears beginning to fall.  “You have always
been weak and foolish, Father, but this goes beyond what I even thought you
were capable of. You cannot keep me from Keir!”

He jabbed a finger at her. “One
more word from you and you will never marry this man, not even if he returns
from Wales, and I will sell you off to the brothels in London if you cannot
show more respect and common sense.”

The door to the solar suddenly
flew open, slamming back so hard that the iron hinges bent and one of them
actually popped out of the wall.  Keir charged through, his handsome face taut
with rage. He went straight to Chloë, who collapsed into loud sobs when she saw
him. He threw his arms around her, holding her tightly, trying to focus on
comforting her and not snapping Anton de Geld’s neck. He had been lingering
outside of the solar, listening to every word spoken until he could stand it no
longer. His ice blue gaze was steady over the top of Chloë’s dark red head.

“If you ever speak to her in that
manner again, I will kill you,” he growled. “She is not a whore and she is not
cheapened. She is a wise, gifted and beautiful woman whom I am deeply in love
with and if there is any shame in this matter, it is yours and yours alone for
breaking your bond. Chloë has done nothing wrong.”

Anton was pale and trembling as
he stood near the hearth, the anger in his veins pumping but not foolish enough
to lash back at St. Hèver.  The man was twice his size and many times more
deadly.  As his mouth worked, struggling for a reply that wouldn’t send St.
Hèver’s sword into his gut, Kurtis suddenly charged in to the room and moved
straight for him. Cassandra, her cheek still red from her father’s slap, bolted
after Kurtis, holding on to the man and struggling to restrain him.

“Nay, Kurtis,” she begged.
“Please… he was angry. He did not mean it.”

Anton could read his death in the
eyes of the men before him.  He scurried away, to the hearth, and grabbed the
nearest implement he could find, which happened to be a big copper shovel used
to remove ash.  He wielded it against Kurtis as the man came close, but Kurtis
lashed out a big hand and knocked the shovel half way across the room.  As
Anton backed up against the wall, Kurtis thrust a finger in to the man’s face.

“Only because she has asked me
not to kill you, I will not,” he growled. “But I will tell you this; I do not
care if you are the father of my wife. If you ever touch her again in anger, I
will rip your head from your body. Is this in any way unclear?”

Before Anton could reply, the
room filled up with knights and Lord Coverdale. They had heard the shouting in
the solar and seen the reaction of the St. Hèver brothers, and Byron was quick
to gather muscle and race into the solar to save Anton from being cut to
pieces.  Coverdale knew what Keir was capable of and he would not see the man
hanged for murder. He could see Keir with Chloë in his arms but the more
immediate problem seemed to be Kurtis.  He went to the man, putting himself
between Anton and the knight.

“Kurtis,” he pointed to the door.
“Get out of here. Take Lady Cassandra with you.  The priest should be here
shortly so you will go and wait in the chapel. Do as I say.”

With Cassandra tugging and Lucan
shoving, they managed to remove Kurtis from the solar.  It was like trying to
drag a stubborn bull but they managed it. Keir watched them pull his brother
from the room, focusing on Coverdale as the man came over to him. Chloë was
still sobbing softly in his arms and Coverdale was not unsympathetic.  He eyed
the woman with some pity before looking to Keir, sighing heavily.

“I think it would be best if you
left also,” he said quietly. “Your presence will only inflame the situation.”

Keir looked at his liege before
turning his attention to Anton, still backed up against the wall. “I asked you
this earlier when you informed me that due to my orders from the king, you had
no intention of allowing me to marry Chloë before I left for Wales,” his voice
was hoarse with emotion. “I will ask you again – what will it take for you to
allow us to be wed today? I will give you all that I have, everything that I
own, if you will allow this. “

Chloë lifted her head, looking up
at him with surprise. “You… you offered to give him your…?”

Keir nodded, shushing her softly
as he returned his attention to Anton.  “Well, my lord? You will gain the
Lordship of Sedburg, a rich fiefdom that will supply you with income.  I will
give it all to you if you will allow me to marry Chloë before I leave on the
morrow.”

Anton was shaken, furious,
indecisive. He knew one thing for certain, however, and that was the fact that
he would not be bullied into changing his mind.  Now it was the principle of
the matter.  He had made a decision and he was going to stick with it, no
matter how unpopular it was.  It wasn’t even a matter anymore of doing what was
best for Chloë; now it was a matter of standing up for his ability to make a
decision regarding his family, right or wrong. 

“You cannot buy her,” he told
him. “I told you earlier today that I cannot allow my daughter to wed a man who
is going to battle. If you die, her marriage prospects will be seriously
limited. Is that what you want, Sir Keir? To limit my daughter from having a
rich and comfortable life simply because you selfishly want to marry the woman
before you go into battle? It would seem to me that if you truly love her as
you say you do, you could understand my concern.”

Keir could see the man was
twisting the situation to make it seem as if he not gone back on his word. He
was trying to rationalize a truly bad choice.  Keir had had the same argument
with Anton earlier that day.

“I do not intend to die,” he
pointed out. “Moreover, if I do, Chloë will inherit my lordship of Sedburg.  If
that is what you are truly worried about, that fact alone will make her
attractive to a potential husband.”

Anton waved him off.  “She will
inherit more from her mother when she dies,” he brushed him off. “Sedburg is
not worth much, and certainly not enough to make her appealing to a potential
husband enough so that he will overlook the fact that she has already been
married.”

Keir looked at Chloë, who was now
calming in his embrace.  He smiled faintly at her.

“Nay,” he murmured. “Her beauty
is enough for any man to overlook what might be considered a flaw or less than
attractive.  Chloë herself in the prize, not what she inherits or how much
money she has. I would take her with only the clothes on her back and be
deliriously happy for it.”

Chloë smiled weakly at him and he
winked at her.  It was a warm moment between them, something that lifted both
their spirits, only to be doused again when Anton spoke.

“Be that as it may, I have made
my decision,” he said, coming away from the wall where Kurtis had cornered
him.  “I will say nothing of the fact that you have taken my daughter’s
innocence because it cannot be regained.  She was a willing participant and it
is done. However, I still feel strongly that you not marry before you leave for
Wales. I have explained my reasons and my decision on that is final.”

“But she is already compromised.
She is already my wife in the eyes of God if not in the eyes of the law. I have
claimed her and she is mine.”

Anton would not be swayed. “It does
not matter. I would not make my daughter so willing a widow. Let us see if you
return from Wales. Let us see if I was wrong.”

Keir was still looking at Chloë,
the smile fading from his face as he turned to Anton. “And if I return from
Wales, will you still deny us?”

Before Anton could reply, Blanche
spoke. “Nay, we will not,” she said in her firm, resolute tone. “Chloë will
remain pledged to you during such time as you are in Wales.  If you return, you
will be permitted to wed her. Consider it your incentive for keeping yourself
alive in the midst of the Welsh rebellion.  You have my word that Chloë will
remain yours until, and if, you return. Is this acceptable?”

It wasn’t what Keir had wanted
but it was the best that could be done under the circumstances.  It was enough.
After a moment, he nodded his head.

“It is,” he agreed. “But I will
add one more provision. She goes to Pendragon and remains there until my
return, under my protection.”

“Agreed.”

It was done. With nothing left to
argue and nothing left to say, Keir’s attention returned to Chloë.  He could
already see the horrible longing in her eyes and it shook him.

“Then with your permission, I
would like to spend my last few remaining hours with Chloë before I leave on
the morrow,” he said quietly.

Anton opened his mouth to respond
but Blanche cut the man off with a sharp hand as if to block whatever was
intended to come out of his mouth. He’d said enough, creating chaos with his
unpopular decision, and Blanche was now in charge.

“You may,” Blanche waved the pair
off. “Go now and say what needs to be said. There is no way of knowing how long
you two will be apart.”

Keir didn’t have to be told
twice.  He grasped Chloë by the hand and quit the solar in a hurry, putting as
much distance as he could between Anton and himself.  He couldn’t stand looking
at the man any longer, knowing he was keeping him from Chloë.

Chloë clung to his hand as he
took her into the entry hall. She was still extremely upset, struggling to keep
her emotions in check as he silently led her to the spiral staircase that
ascended into the upper floors of the keep.  All around them, the structure was
alive with soldiers and servants, people going about their busy day, but Keir
and Chloë remained quiet and somber, locked in their own little world,
wondering what the future held now that everything was so uncertain.

On the third level they came to
Chloë’s chamber and Keir opened the door, ushering her inside and following her
in. He closed the door softly behind her, throwing the bolt, before turning to
look at her. It was God’s honest truth that he didn’t know what to say to her.
He was perhaps more devastated than she was.

“I am so sorry,” Chloë spoke
first, her lower lip quivering. “I had no idea that my father would do such a
thing. I do not know what to say to you other than I am deeply sorry.”

He went to her, shushing her
softly as he pulled her into his arms.  He held her close, listening to her
weep softly against him.

“It is not your fault,” he
whispered. “You cannot control what the man does.”

“But it is so unfair,” she
sobbed. “I do not understand why he would do such a thing.”

Keir didn’t, either. “In his own
mind, perhaps he believes he is truly doing what he feels is best for you.”