The Falls of Erith (21 page)

Eyes
wide with awe, she timidly took the box.  She turned it over in her hands,
inspecting it as if she’d never seen such a thing before. “What is it?”

He
chuckled. “Open it, you silly wench.”

She
grinned and pulled at the ribbon.  It fell away and she carefully pulled the
lid off of the little box.  She gasped at the contents before reaching in to
pull forth the treasure inside. A beautifully etched thin gold band with a
massive pale green stone glistened in the weak light.  It was magnificent. She
gasped again, in awe, as she inspected it.

“It’s…
beautiful, simply beautiful,” she breathed. “For me?”

He
took it from her and collected her left hand, sliding it down over the third
finger. It was a little snug, but it fit.  Gray held her hand up, staring at
the ring as if hardly believing what she was seeing. Braxton’s gaze moved
between the ring and her astonished face.

“A
token of my affection,” he said simply.

“When
did you get this? I have been with you nearly every moment of the day.”

“I
bought it when I bought the pig. It would seem that merchants are willing to
open their shops, even at night, with the promise of a large sale.”

“But
this is so beautiful. Surely it must have cost a small fortune. I am not sure
I…”

He
cut her off. “As my betrothed, you warrant such a thing.”

She
looked at him, then. “We are betrothed, then? I thought we were merely
courting.”

He
grinned, full-on. “If you think for one minute I am courting without a purpose,
think again. I shall marry you before this month is out.” He suddenly grasped
her arms, pulling her up against his chest as his smile faded. “No one else is
worthy of you, madam. You and your head-strong daughter and your broken down
fortress deserve everything I can provide for you and more. Do not deny me this
honor.”

She
swallowed hard, feeling his sincerity, finally allowing herself to believe that
he was truly genuine in everything he said and did. Until this moment, she’d
still held doubt. But no more.  She wound her arms around his neck.

“Oh…
Braxton,” she whispered as her soft lips came down on his.

He
pulled her fiercely to him, his kiss hot and lusty and aggressive.  In little
time she was off the stool, on her knees against him as his mouth ravaged her.  With
her arms around his neck, there was little she could do other than hang on
while he tenderly assaulted her.  His passionate mouth moved from her lips to
her face, her neck, her shoulders. His lips were hot and moist, stirring the
embers of desire in Gray until she was quivering with want.  She’d never
experienced such passion; in fact, her encounters with Garber had been far and
few, usually drunken romps ending in her tears.  She had no glorious memories
of passion or coupling.  But with Braxton, she could only imagine how wondrous
it might be.

His
mouth moved to the swell of her round breasts and his big hand, very gently,
cupped her left breast.  She gasped softly and started to pull away, but he
held her close and his gentle touch turned more insistent. He fondled her
boldly as his lips reclaimed hers, his kiss moving deep.  He held her so
tightly that he was sure he was squeezing the breath from her because he could
hear her gasps and sharp exhales as he had his way with her.

He
wanted to taste her flesh in the worst way. He wanted to suckle a rosy nipple
until she wept with the pure joy of it.  Her breast was soft and round in his
hand and he could feel the hard nipple through the fabric.  But his kisses
slowed as he struggled to regain his control, fully mindful that this was not
the time or place for this, no matter how badly he wanted her. When he finally
pulled away from her mouth, she drew in a heavy breath as if struggling to
breathe. He gazed down into her half-lidded eyes.

“As
a man of supreme control, I can tell you that it has taken all of my strength
not to continue exploring you,” he murmured. “My want for you is more than I
can express, sweet. I am sorry if I frighten you with it.”

His
hand was still on her breast, gently rubbing where moments before he had been
passionately fondling her.  Gray labored to regain her wits, her hand
instinctively closing over his as it held her breast.

“You
do not frighten me,” she whispered. “I… I have never experienced this level of
passion before. It was never this way with Garber.  In fact, it would sicken me
whenever he touched me. But with you… I love this already, Braxton. I never
knew it could be like this.”

He
smiled at her, his features illuminated by the soft candle light.  He kissed
her again, tenderly this time, his hand still moving slowly, sensually, over
her breast. “It is a promise of things to come, this passion that ignites so
easily between us.”

“Do
you think so?”

He
spoke with his lips still against hers. “I know so.”

He
pulled away to look at her again, her exquisite beauty in the dimness of the
tent. But he also pulled away because he was dangerously close to losing
control again.  Removing his hand from her breast, he straightened her bodice
where he had mussed it.  Then he helped her back onto the stool at Geoff’s
bedside before rising.

He
was thankful he was in armor, for the mail and pieces of plate concealed a
powerful erection.  God, he wished he could take her at this moment.

“Now,”
he said, trying to distract himself. “I shall go and see how they are coming
along with the pig.  I should probably also see how Lady Brooke is faring after
her scolding.”

Gray
lifted an eyebrow at him. “Do not coddle her, Braxton. She must learn her
lesson.”

His
lips twitched but he bowed his head as if to agree to her wishes. Gray watched
him go from the tent, suspecting that he would not. He would fold like a
weakling the moment Brooke turned her big, sad eyes to him.

She
was right.

An
hour later, Braxton had not returned to the tent. With Geoff still unconscious,
Gray felt the need to stretch herself, if only for a moment. She rose stiffly
and exited the tent only to find her daughter, Braxton and both squires
missing. The men at arms tending the fire could only point towards the dark
town in response to her query.  Since Braxton was with the children, she didn’t
particularly worry, but she wondered where they could have gone.

The
evening was cool but not cold and the stars above were brilliant. Gray wandered
away from the encampment, her eyes on the town in search of her daughter and
Braxton.  The dark tournament field was to her left, the empty lists mere
shadows of the excited stands they had been earlier.  Wandering aimlessly, and
grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs, she noticed that there were a
few tents pitched off to the west of the tournament field.

She
could see the triangle-shaped silhouettes and the flicker of the cooking
fires.  Curious, she wandered in that direction simply because wanted to see
their banners and then attempt to deduce which House they were from.  Purely
idle curiosity. But she did not want to wander too close so after several
minutes of pacing, she decided to turn around and head back to Braxton’s
encampment.  Turning on her heel, she almost ran into a massive body standing
behind her.

Startled,
she yelped and fell back.  A big hand reached out to steady her.

“Forgive,
my lady,” came the deepest voice she had ever heard. “I did not mean to
frighten you.”

Heart
in her throat, she craned her neck back to gaze up into the face that emitted
the voice.  Surely it was the Devil himself. Eyes the color of obsidian gazed
back at her, although it was difficult to deduce much else in the dark. She
couldn’t see his face clearly.  But he was definitely a knight for he still
wore his mail and a portion of arm protection was still strapped to his right
arm. He was a very big fellow with handsome, rugged features. She took another
step away from him.

“You
merely startled me, my lord,” she said as steadily as she could. “I apologize
if I have stepped into your camp. I was… well, I was looking for my daughter
but I see that she is not around here.”

She
walked a wide berth around him; though he did not stop her, his black eyes
followed her like a cat tracking a mouse.

“I
saw you at the tournament today,” he said. “You were sitting in the lists with
a young girl who has your same color of hair. Is that the daughter you are
looking for?”

She
nodded, trying not to be too obvious about making distance between them. 
“Aye.”

“She
yells like an alehouse wench.”

Gray
paused in her attempt to escape and lifted an eyebrow at him. “It was her first
tournament. How else should she behave?”

The
knight laughed softly. “Exactly as she did. She was all I could hear.”

“You
were competing, too?”

“I
was the victor.”

An
inkling of recognition came to Gray’s eyes. “You are Sir Niclas?”

He
bowed gallantly. “At your service, my lady.

“You
injured Geoff.”

He
straightened up, his dark eyes flicking in the direction of Braxton’s camp. “It
was an accident, I assure you,” he said. “How fares the wounded knight?”

Gray
regarded him carefully. “We do not know yet,” she said after a moment. “We have
done all we can. Only time will tell now.”

Niclas
nodded faintly and his gaze moved to her once again. “Are you d’Uberville’s
wife?”

“Nay.”

“But
you travel with Braxton de Nerra’s camp?”

The
answer was more complicated than that, but she simply nodded. “Aye.”

“Then
you must be de Nerra’s wife.”

She
cocked her head. “You ask many questions.”

He
lifted his big shoulders. “As I said, I saw you in the lists. And, I also saw
you in town earlier in the day. If I do not ask questions, how am I to discover
anything about you?”

Her
brow furrowed. “Why would you want to know anything about me?”

He
laughed softly. “Why wouldn’t I? Such beauty is rare. Are you married then, my
lady?”

“That
is none of your affair.”

It
was Braxton’s voice. He suddenly appeared out of the darkness with Brooke,
Norman and a limping Edgar behind him.  His expression was as hard as iron, the
blue-green eyes that could be so soft were like shards of glass.  Gray had
never seen that expression on his face before.  Braxton walked up beside her,
sizing up Niclas; though the tournament champion was at least a head taller,
Braxton was clearly nothing to be trifled with. He was enormously muscled and
powerful.

Niclas
knew of de Nerra; almost all fighting men did.  Rumors and legends of the
mercenary abound in the north. More than that, de Aughton’s sworn House was
none other than Braxton’s own father, Baron Gilderdale. He was surprised
Braxton did not know that, or at least, acknowledge it.  He’d never met the
earl’s youngest son before, however, and their first introduction was rather
awkward. De Aughton dipped his head in acknowledgement, in respect, though his
eyes had lost none of their black glimmer.

“My
apologies,” he said steadily. “I did not know. I meant no insolence to the
lady, or to you.”

Braxton
just stared at him.  Gray could sense the tension and she was uncomfortable.
She did not want Braxton getting into an altercation with this knight.  She put
her hand on his arm.

“I
was looking for you and came across Sir Niclas instead,” she said evenly. “He
has been most kind. Shall we return to camp now?”

Braxton’s
gaze lingered on Niclas a moment longer before looking at Gray. “I am sorry you
had to go looking for me,” he took her hand, possessively, and tucked it into
the crook of his elbow. “The children were hungry and could not wait for the
pig. I got them something to hold them over until sup.”

A
glance at Brooke, Norman and Edgar showed the three of them eating hunks of
brown bread.  Brooke had something else in her hand, though Gray could not see
what it was. She lifted an eyebrow at Braxton.

“I
told you not to coddle her,” she said in a low voice. “What did you buy her
this time?”

He
was defiant and penitent at the same time.  “Bread and some kind of candied
fruit. I had to pound on four or five stalls before I could find someone who
would let us in.”

Gray
closed her eyes and shook her head. Braxton, not waiting for the rebuke that
was sure to come, waved an arm at the children.

“Come
along,” he told them. “Back to camp.”

The
three of them scampered past him, although one was limping badly. He started to
follow when he heard Gray’s soft voice.

“Thank
you for not allowing me to come to harm, Sir Niclas,” she said. “And
congratulations on your victory today.”

Niclas
thought he had been forgotten and was mildly surprised at the lady’s words. “My
pleasure, my lady,” he said. “And my wishes for recovery to the injured
knight.”