Page 20 of Gambling with the Earl
A beat fell. Both men were seasoned warriors who well knew these were no reasons to spark bloodshed.
Guy leaned forward, ignoring a stab of pain in his arm. “You know you can always call on me in a moment of need.” He laughed to dispel the sudden tension. “Though in truth, I am not much good for anything right now.”
Otto took a swig of wine. “Your body will heal,” he said emphatically. “Of that, I am sure. But Darkmoor does not lackmuscle. We have an army of well-trained knights. What I need, mayhap, is a friend I can trust.” His sincerity was evident. Guy’s chest swelled with fellow-feeling, but he failed to find the words he needed to express his deeply felt emotions before Otto continued. “I will call on you, Guy, at such time as I need to. Though I hope and pray it will not come to that. My father is still a great and powerful man. Only a fool would rise against him.”
A movement to their left made both men startle. The door swung open and Lord Ulric, Earl of Darkmoor, came striding into the great hall. Like his son, he was a man bred for battle. Tall and strong, with a formidable bearing and a sharp glint to his eye, despite his age and ill health. His once dark hair was now liberally streaked with grey, but the muscles on his arms still bulged beneath the heavily embroidered tunic he wore over light-coloured breeches.
“Father.” Otto stood up to greet him, the candlelight throwing his body into sharp relief. He was dressed more modestly than his father, in a plain dark tunic that hung from his powerful shoulders. “Are you well-rested?”
“I suppose I am.” The Earl of Darkmoor stopped before Guy and inclined his head in greeting. “It is good of you to offer us hospitality with such little notice. I told my son it would not do for an army of men to arrive at your door unannounced, but he was determined to have his evening of wine and reminiscences with an old friend.” The man stood tall and proud, no doubt well aware how the reputation of the knights of Darkmoor had preceded them.
“I am pleased to see you both,” Guy said, diplomatically. For a moment the three of them stood facing one another as the flames danced and the shadows lengthened. Guy felt a chill of apprehension crawl up his spine, reminiscent of his unease earlier that day when he awaited the warriors, not knowing what brought them to his door. While he had chatted with Otto, it hadbeen like old times, with the strength of their kinship and shared history glowing between them. But now, he was once more aware of the inequality between his poorly guarded household and the well-trained soldiers outside. Lord Ulric could order his men to seize the castle, and Guy would be able to do nothing to stop him. He cleared his throat. “Please take a seat. I will ring for dinner, if we’re ready?”
Lord Ulric nodded his assent and sat down at the head of the trestle table, as if this was his right. Guy felt, but did not see, Otto tense beside him. They were both keenly aware of this breach of manners. But Guy would not allow an old man’s rudeness to spoil his evening. He waved Otto to a seat on his father’s right and made his own way to the other side of the table, further from the warmth of the fire. Lord Ulric sniffed with displeasure over the freshly baked bread and finely carved meats, but his eyes gleamed with interest when Kitty—commandeered to serve at the table due to the shortage of castle servants—carried a tray of sweet figs into the hall.
What was it about this particular maid, Guy wondered. Her hair was pinned under her cap. Her dress and apron were neat. There was nothing to set her apart from the other servants, yet somehow, she stood out, like an eagle amongst pigeons. It was her grace and bearing, he thought afresh. She looked at the world with the measured gaze of a lady.
She was a puzzle he was determined to solve. And she had also attracted the eye of his guests.
“Over here,” Lord Ulric commanded, cupping his fingers to beckon her over. Guy watched as Kitty hesitated, then turned to position her tray within easy reach of the Earl of Darkmoor. “What else have you got down there that could please an old man?” he asked.
Kitty’s cheeks turned pink, but her balance was steady as she dipped her head politely. “I shall go and enquire, my lord.”
“Bring us more wine, if you please,” Guy spoke up, hoping to dispel the awkwardness and perchance divert Kitty from the hall for longer.
All three men watched as Kitty walked gracefully out of the hall, and Otto cleared his throat. “I see you have no shortage of beautiful women, here on your wild island.” He spoke lightly and Guy swallowed down his instinctive flare of irritation.
“I do not dally with the servants.” He wagged a finger at Otto before taking another long drink of wine.
“Of course not.” Otto too drank deeply from his goblet.
“So what have you in the way of entertainment?” Lord Ulric demanded belligerently. “Are we to sit here in silence?”
“Is it not pleasant to sit and talk, Father?” Otto put in.
Lord Ulric sniffed loudly. “For you two, maybe. Not for me. Have you no minstrels? Musicians?” He fixed Guy with a questioning stare.
Guy quelled his rising impatience, reminding himself that Lord Ulric was suffering ill health and mayhap even injury as well. “I’m afraid not,” he answered calmly. His mind flooded with memories of Kitty’s beautiful singing voice, but he would sooner face a cavalry charge than divulge her hidden talents to a vulture like Lord Ulric.
Lord Ulric’s displeasure was evident in his furrowed brow and wrinkled nose, but his expression brightened somewhat when Kitty re-entered the room. She kept her eyes cast down as she approached the table.
“Very nice, very nice,” Lord Ulric muttered. “Fill me up.” He gestured grandly to his goblet.
In a sudden flash of premonition, Guy knew that if Kitty approached the end of the trestle table, Lord Ulric would put his hands upon her. He wouldn’t hurt her, but he would touch her in some way. Perchance he would take a hold of her wrist. Mayhap even put his wrinkled hands in the vicinity of her derriere. Guycouldn’t allow it. Blood rushed to his head as he searched his mind for a reason to delay her.
“That wine is no good,” he announced, startling Kitty as much as the men he was dining with. “Take it away, immediately.”
Confusion washed over Kitty’s previously composed features, and Guy cursed himself for speaking so abruptly. If he could only explain that he was trying to keep her away from wandering hands.
“This wine, my lord?” She nodded at the earthenware jug clutched in her trembling fingers.
“I want only the best wine for the Earl of Darkmoor.” Guy took a breath. “You must ask Thomas to fetch it up.”
“Very good, my lord.” Kitty bobbed her head and all but ran from the room.
Guy fought an urge to go after her. Otto raised an enquiring eyebrow, but his father seemed to find nothing amiss. “Your wine is good,” he allowed. His long fingers tapped on the trestle table. “But I know not how you can spend so many long evenings alone here without taking leave of your senses.”
Otto’s eyes sent an unspoken apology in Guy’s direction. “Mayhap I came here to recover my senses,” Guy suggested. “I find the peace restorative.” A gust of wind rattled the windows as if to bely his claim.
