Page 19 of Knight of Havoc
Her eyes went to Richard’s sister Beatrix who stood behind the empress’s chair. The poor woman appeared completely bored and as if to prove Elysande’s thoughts, the girl quickly hid a yawn. Elysande stifled a giggle. Beatrix had been a delightful surprise upon Elysande’s arrival at Oxford. Richard had immediately introduced them. The same age as Reynard, Beatrix was a trifle bit… determined… Elysande supposed was the best way to describe her, and mayhap a little spoiled after getting her way far too often. But while she could be stubborn and impetuous, she was also spirited and engaging, and Elysande appreciated the friendship that was beginning to develop between them.
“You appear far too deep into your thoughts, my lady,” Reynard said when he leaned down to whisper in her ear.
Surprised that the man had sneaked up on her, she turned on the bench far too quickly and came face to face with the man who continued to fill her dreams. Those steel grey eyes sparkled mischievously at her causing Elysande’s heart to once again betray her. No matter how many times she told herself to move on from her feelings toward Reynard, she could not help the attraction that continued to consume her.
“Nothing to concern yourself with, Sir Reynard. Just worried that Lady Beatrix might doze off whilst attending our empress,” she said with a light laugh even though her heart was beating so rapidly the entire crowd would surely hear it for themselves.
The deep baritone of his laughter increased her smile knowing she was the cause. “Poor Beatrix,” he chuckled before he took a seat next to her. “I am certain she is not pleased she is only one among many ladies who flirt with the men here at court or take part in the dancing. She is used to being the center of attention.”
“The celebration for Christmas is magnificent. I have not seen this much revelry in many a year,” Elysande exclaimed as she turned her attention to those who danced.
“Not even at Blackmore?” he asked with one raised dark brow.
Elysande shook her head but kept her attention on the dancing. She didn’t trust herself to look into his face again. “Nay. My parents have been in Normandy for over a year now and left Blackmore for me to handle. But even prior to their current trip, they were rarely at home. They have spent many years… absent from my life, to put it as politely as possible. I love them but they are very single minded in enjoying their own lives together without the burden of a child and the responsibilities that come with it.”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “A pity… they are missing out on your lovely company.” He continued holding her hand until she had little choice other than to finally gaze upon him.
It was her downfall. Her breath hitched. Her hand tingled where he continued to rub his thumb over her skin. Her mouth became dry and all she could think about was leaning forward and kissing his lips.
She cleared her throat as though this would help her to remain indifferent to the spell he was unknowingly weaving around them. She was the one who told him they would be friends. She needed to keep to the plan to remain civil and not ruin what she herself put into place.
“A son…” she muttered not finishing her thoughts on the matter.
“A son?” he asked with a frown.
“Aye… they were disappointed I was female and thus would not carry on my father’s name. My mother was unable to have any other children after she almost died giving birth to me.” Her explanation rushed from her mouth and for a moment all the loneliness of her childhood came rushing to the forefront of her mind.
As the daughter of the lord and lady of Blackmore, she was kept apart from the village girls and had learned from an early age the responsibilities that came with her position in life. It stood to reason this was why she had thought she had fallen in love with her captain of her guard. He was with her as a constant reminder that she was different and of noble birth. Her blue eyes left Reynard’s and traveled to see Hawke across the hall. She had an older brother in her captain and was thankful for his continued presence. If only her grandfather yet lived…
“’Tis their loss, Elysande, and mayhap they will come around and appreciate all you have done to try to keep Blackmore running,” he said with such positivity that she wished his words might come true. But she knew her parents and she highly doubted they would change their ways anytime soon.
She formed her mouth into a grim line of displeasure. “I wish I had your confidence, Reynard, but such a miracle might only occur with the second coming. They are very set in their ways.”
He took her hand once more and gently pulled her to her feet. “Come! This is no time to be so melancholy and I refuse to be the cause. Let us dance, my lady, and make merry!”
She had no time to argue his decision because before she could reply he was whirling her around the hall to the pattern of the dance. She forgot anything else she had been pondering outside of enjoying the moment of being in his arms. She knew itwould not last for long and she would take this time unto herself to just be happy no matter how briefly such an emotion would last.
When he lifted her around her waist and brought her high, she swore it seemed as though her joy lifted to the heavens. With her hands resting upon his shoulders, she tilted her head back smiling as he spun her in a circle. But that smile quickly faded when he slowly brought her back down and her body slid along his muscular form. Their eyes met upon her descent until her feet touched the floor. Her knees buckled and he quickly tightened his hold upon her, bringing her into his embrace. They stood there in silence staring at one another both with wide eyes. The contact of their bodies had been like an awakening and Elysande could only stand there in wonder knowing Reynard felt it, too.
“May I dance with the lady?” a male voice said breaking the spell between them.
Elysande quickly stepped back from Reynard for propriety’s sake, hiding the fact that she was disappointed by the interruption and the fact that another wished to dance with her.
Reynard bowed low. “Of course,” he replied before taking her hand and raising her quaking limb to his lips. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Elysande.”
She gave a nod of her head. “Sir Reynard…”
Elysande watched him go until the stranger before her took her about the waist and they continued with the dance. This man’s hair was as black as the midnight sky and he had eyes so green they reminded her of the deepest part of the forest at Blackmore. He was slightly shorter than Reynard but just as muscular. Another warrior whose fealty was sworn to the empress, she supposed.
“We have not been introduced,” Elysande finally murmured when the silence stretched between them.
One dark brow rose as though to say she should know his name and was put out that she was not familiar with him. But to her, he was just one among many who stayed here at Oxford Castle. She had not met every man and woman here, especially for the holiday.
“Constantine Warin, Earl of Charlbury,” he replied with a nod of his head as he continued to lead her through the patterns of the dance. They broke apart and then returned to clasp hands.
“My lord,” she said as they turned in a circle. “I am Lady Elysande Thorburn of Blackmore.”
“I know who you are.” His reply was curt but mayhap that was because they were forced to once again break apart.
