Chapter Twenty

E yreka woke with the feeling that something was not right. She rolled over onto her stomach, brushed the hair out of her face and propped her elbows beneath her. Looking around the room, all seemed to be in order, then she remembered… Augustin.

Heat rose in her cheeks thinking of the way they had spent the night locked in each other’s arms. A curl of heat spiraled through her as she remembered each touch, each taste of ecstasy they had shared. Sometime during the night she had lost a part of herself, and feared that she would never be whole without it. Touching the empty spot next to her, she smiled; it was still warm where her husband had lain.

He had risen without waking her and gone. How long would it be before he would begin to share his thoughts with her, tell her of his plans as her first husband had?

The early morning discussions to plan the day was a special time that she missed most of all. The sharing of future plans and dreams for the future forged a bond between husband and wife that grew stronger with the years. She ached to share those plans and dreams with Augustin.

The warmth of the sun radiated through the arrowslit, tempting her to rise and greet the day. The early morning sounds of the holding waking were comforting. Mayhap she should check on Angelique. Eyreka silently wondered what delightful surprises the little one had in store for her today. She would definitely have to keep her wits about her, or she would lose the battle to win the little tyrant over.

*

“I want the land,” de Jeaneaux said evenly, watching for a reaction from the man sitting across from him. “De Chauret would never have received the offer if he had not taken my place in the king’s regard.” De Jeaneaux paused, “The land should have been deeded to me.”

Aaron the Saxon closed his hand around the razor-sharp edge of his dagger. A thin line of bright red blood ran down his wrist. He handed the dagger to de Jeaneaux. “We seal our bargain in blood.”

De Jeaneaux accepted the blade and did the same.

Aaron’s voice rasped, “I can forego the land. I still have control over Sedgeworth in Owen’s absence, but I want the woman.” He vowed through gritted teeth, “She will be made to pay for interfering in my liege’s plans for his former ward, Jillian of Loughmae. Because of Eyreka, Milord Owen awaits a death sentence… mayhap even one of treason.”

Bloody hands clasped, their gazes met and held until de Jeaneaux nodded in agreement.

*

“I do not see why I cannot ride out alone,” Angelique said, sticking her bottom lip out in a full-fledged pout worthy of her ten years.

Augustin shook his head. “There is much you do not know of the countryside.”

At her watery sniff, he turned back toward his daughter. “When have you ridden out alone in the past?”

Angelique looked at her feet as if she found them fascinating. Undeterred by her reluctance to answer him, he tilted her chin up so that he could see her mutinous expression.

“Whenever it pleased me,” she finally answered, crossing her arms in front of her.

It was a posture vaguely familiar, though at the moment, he could not recall why. “Now that you are here, you are subject to the same rules as the other women under my protection.”

“I do not like rules, or her.” Angelique eyes blazed with anger.

“You will come to like Lady Eyreka,” Augustin said without pause, amazed that once he said the words, they were exactly true. He had come to like Eyreka, very much.

“I will not,” his daughter said quietly, with all of the heartfelt conviction her little soul possessed.

“Can you not open your heart, just a little?” he prodded. When she shook her head no, he sighed. “Try.”

“Good morning, husband,” Eyreka said, walking into the hall. When he turned toward her, time seemed to grind to a halt and everyone in the room faded into the background, until it was just the two of them facing one another across the vast expanse of the hall.

Heat curled low in his gut and started to spread to his limbs, reminding him of the passion that had burned between them last night.

He strode purposefully toward her, took her hand in his and pressed his mouth against the back of it, though he wanted to press his lips over her heart. Thinking of doing just that, he wondered what would happen if he surprised his wife with a gentle reminder of what they had shared. His gaze turned mischievous as he flipped her hand over and placed a fervent kiss in the palm of her hand. Eyreka jolted, then blushed a becoming shade of pink, when he touched the center of her palm with the tip of his tongue.

Her knees nearly gave out, and would have, had he not steadied her with both hands. The knowledge that he could affect her thusly swept through him. “You slept well?” he dared to ask, though he knew very well neither of them slept.

Eyreka nodded absently, staring at their still-joined hands. Taking her by the elbow, he escorted her over to the table and motioned for the young man holding a tray filled with food to serve them.

“Papa,” Angelique said, in a loud voice, “I want to go riding this morning.”

Eyreka looked over at her…the girl had obviously braided her own hair. It was lopsided, with strands of hair pulling free of the ribbon she had used to secure it in place. She wondered if one of the maidservants had offered to help, then decided that they hadn’t. She had not seen either of them since the evening before when she sent them to bed.

“How about a tour of your new home?” Eyreka offered, hoping to catch Angelique off balance with her offer.

“Who would take me?” Angelique asked, leaning forward past her father.

“I am free this morning,” Eyreka said.

“In that case, ma petite ,” Augustin answered smoothly, “you may accompany Lady Eyreka.”

Augustin’s daughter rose from the table like an arrow loosed from a taut bowstring. “I’d rather work on my sewing.”

Augustin laughed aloud. “But you hate to sew.”

The implication was not lost on Eyreka. She nodded slowly, accepting the girl’s choice. But she was not easily defeated. “I will see that you have the threads you need,” she told her quietly. “Sara will be happy to show Nadienne and Bernadette around the grounds today,” she paused, hoping to draw Angelique’s attention.

“And what will you do,” the little one finally asked, her tone far too sweet-sounding for the sour look that lined her little face.

“I shall ride out today. ’Tis far too beautiful a day to waste indoors.”

Augustin shook his head. “It is not safe,” he said simply.

Eyreka struggled not to snip at him, knowing he was concerned, but surely those that had been bent on doing her harm were gone. “You and my sons have taken care of any problems of infidels. There should not be any left.” She silently begged him with her gaze to relent and let her ride.

Augustin looked thoughtful and seemed to be swaying in her direction.

“I can take a company of armed men as protection. No one will catch us by surprise.”

Finally, he nodded. “Take extra men,” he warned.

“Thank you. I shall so enjoy the ride,” she said.

Augustin flashed her a quick grin, obviously pleased with the way she handled the latest confrontation with his daughter. Eyreka rose from the table and nodded toward her husband, “If you will excuse me.”

“I want to ride, Papa,” Angelique wailed.

“Then I suggest you catch up to Lady Eyreka and apologize.”

Eyreka smiled to herself, pausing at the door, making a great show of brushing imaginary crumbs from her skirts. A whisper of sound told her that her stepdaughter was right behind her. She turned around and placed a hand to her breast, “Oh,” she said as if shocked, “you startled me.”

Angelique’s eyes narrowed as if she didn’t believe her, but Eyreka maintained her startled look.

“I am sorry for being rude,” Angelique said haltingly. “I would rather go riding with you.”

Contentment filled Eyreka, as she ran the tip of her forefinger down the little girl’s nose. “I’m glad.”

The girl didn’t shrug away from her, but stood still, permitting Eyreka to touch her. Then she nodded and walked along beside her. A silent truce had been formed with the girl’s apology. It was a beginning.

Patrick raised a hand as he crossed the lower bailey. Eyreka smiled, waved back at him and continued walking toward the stable.

“Who is he?” Angelique asked, her eyes widening at the size of the redheaded warrior.

“Patrick. He’s one of my son’s vassals.”

“You have a son?”

Eyreka smiled, “I have three.”

“Three?” Angelique said surprised. “How old are they?”

Eyreka took her by the arm, steering her clear of a fresh pile of manure directly in front of them.

“Garrick, my eldest, is five and twenty, Dunstan is—”

Angelique’s gasp of horror was almost funny, “You must be ancient!”

Eyreka flushed scarlet at the comment, indignation rising in her breast, but one look at the little girl’s face and she had to laugh. “Aye.” They walked the rest of the way in silence, with Angelique sneaking glances at her every few moments.

Her horse saddled and ready to ride, Eyreka led the way, leaving her stepdaughter to follow along with ten men at arms. The echoing sound of hoof beats pounding the softly packed dirt of the bailey told her that Angelique had not wasted any time.

A companionable silence settled between them as they rode across lush green grass, skirted sparkling ponds, and rode between majestic pines. Eyreka approved of Angelique’s hushed tone when the little girl admitted, grudgingly, that their land was truly wondrous.

Shouts off in the distance echoed toward them on the mid-morning breeze. The unmistakable sound of sword striking sword sliced through their calm. Armand held up a hand, signaling for silence, and motioned for one of the other warriors to ride up ahead to see what had happened.

While they waited, Angelique sidled her mount closer to Eyreka’s. Without thinking, Eyreka laid a calming hand on the other horse’s neck, whispering words to soothe the anxious animal.

“He likes you.”

Eyreka ignored the girl’s surprise, “I feed him bits of apple from our orchard.” It was a good sign that Angelique was observant. Mayhap she could use it to her advantage in helping the child accept her new situation.

“Did he ever bite you?” Angelique asked, lowering her voice.

Eyreka stroked the horse’s velvety muzzle. “More than once, the rascal.”

“But you still feed him?” the child persisted. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll bite you again?”

“If I am careful, he will not take me by surprise again, if I’m not…” she let her words trail off, watching as the warrior rode back toward their group at a furious pace.

“’Tis the patrol,” he said, gasping for breath. “They’ve been attacked.”

At his words the two other knights looked over at the women and stiffened noticeably. Armand spoke, “We must get Lady Eyreka and Angelique to safety.” The other men agreed, closing rank to form a protective human shield around Eyreka and her charge. The look in Armand’s eyes chilled her to the bone.

“Mayhap we should wait here while you and the others offer your support.” She hoped the Norman warrior would not disagree; time could be of the essence.

Armand’s face darkened.

“Are they evenly matched?” she asked, hoping to push the warrior into agreeing with her.

“They are outnumbered,” he rasped.

“The sooner you add to their number, the sooner we can all ride back to safety,” she reasoned.

Angelique looked at Eyreka as if she had grown another head, but blessedly remained quiet.

“Augustin will have my bones stripped clean and hang them out to bleach in the sun,” Armand repeated with such passion, Eyreka wondered if that was not an oft-used threat to ensure the younger warriors in line.

“I cannot imagine that he would truly wish to,” she answered. “Can you not see the advantage?”

Armand’s hands shook in frustration as he stared toward the sounds of battle. “He will kill me,” he said quietly.

“We promise not to tell,” Angelique implored, her blue eyes shining.

At his reluctant nod, Eyreka drew her small, but lethal-looking dagger from the leather sheath that hung from her waist, and slid from her horse. Putting a hand to her lips she led both horses into the dense bushes that lined the road and waited.

“Will Armand be all right?” Angelique whispered brokenly.

Compassion filled Eyreka’s breast at her concern, “He is a strong warrior,” she said softly. “He will be fine.”

The wait seemed interminable, and it was a long while after the sounds of battle diminished that Eyreka could finally hear the sound of approaching horses. With Augustin’s daughter behind her, she stood feet spread and dagger at the ready.

“Lady Eyreka!”

Armand’s cry had her re-sheathing her weapon. She called over her shoulder, “They are back.” She waited until the warriors drew up alongside their hiding place before revealing herself. The boast that she had needed no protection from the warriors died on her lips. The group of men before her seemed to be awash in blood. The high-pitched scream that rent the air had her spinning around, grabbing Angelique with firm hands. She pulled the child into her embrace, whispering words in a bid to calm her.

“Armand needs me,” she told the child in clipped tones. “And I need you to help me bind their wounds.”