Page 47 of Hers To Command
She swayed and, fearing she might fall, he leaped forward and grasped her about the waist. She put her hands on his arms to steady herself—and she didn’t pull away.
It was the first time he had touched her since the ale, and he was instantly alert to the feel of her soft body against his.
“Roald has the king’s backing?” she asked with quiet dismay, her thoughts obviously totally occupied with Roald and the king.
“Of some kind,” he replied. “From what Ranulf says, the king was subtle about it, which tells me the king isn’t as committed to Roald as he might hope, or assume.”
Her eyes brightened, and still she didn’t pull away. “Do you know when Roald and his men will get here?”
“Soon, I fear,” he answered, watching the play of worry and determination in her expression, and loving her even more.
“We’ll be ready for him,” he assured her, believing that with all his heart, too. “Your men are loyal and courageous, your castle provisioned for a siege. If we can’t beat his men, we can hold out for a very long time.”
She moved back at last, and he reluctantly let her go. Then she looked up at him—shy, vulnerable, brave and resolute. “I have faith in you, Sir Henry,” she said softly. “And I cannot bear to think what might have happened if you had not agreed to help us.”
Abashed, he couldn’t meet her steadfast gaze. He no longer felt like a bold, proud knight, but merely like a man who hopes his beloved’s trust is justified and fears that he will fail.
Mathilde reached out to caress his face. “If only we had met before Roald.”
If only they had met when he had earned an estate. If only he had already proven himself worthy of such a lady.
Before he could do or say more, before he could take her in his arms and kiss her as he yearned to do, she was gone, running down the steps and leaving him alone.
As he deserved to be.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LATER THAT NIGHT,Ranulf studied his friend in the flickering firelight as they sat near the hearth. The ladies had long since retired, and the maidservants had disappeared. Close by, several of the soldiers and male household servants had bedded down on their straw pallets, their sighs and snorts a familiar chorus. Even the dogs had given up foraging in the rushes and were sleeping, too.
During the evening meal, Henry had told Ranulf that most of the soldiers and servants here in Ecclesford were English or Celts. That was unusual, but it also meant that he and Henry could converse without being understood by those nearest them, should they awaken, and if Henry would deign to speak.
Ranulf was used to silence from Merrick; indeed, that was Merrick’s natural state. Henry, however, was usually talkative and entertaining, especially after a fine meal in the company of a beautiful woman. Tonight, though, he’d barely said ten words during the evening meal.
It could be that he was so grave because Lady Giselle was not overly friendly. Perhaps whatever hopes Henry had harbored regarding the lady had been dashed, yet he still felt obliged to remain. Or perhaps that was typical behavior for her. After his first meeting with her, Ranulf reflected, she’d grown distinctly aloof toward him, too. Or maybe she was simply quiet and modest in company.
Then there was the enigmatic Lady Mathilde. Henry had described her as spirited as they washed before the evening meal, and while there was a certain mobility to her plain features, she had not been what Ranulf would call vivacious. Whatever was afoot here, he was certain Henry had no amorous intentions regarding that particular young woman, either.
“The ladies set a fine table,” he finally ventured, knowing that to question Henry too bluntly might not yield the answers he sought.
Henry merely nodded, then lapsed back into his uncharacteristic silence.
Obviously, casual conversation was not going to help achieve his goal. Perhaps the thing to do was to be more direct. “When you agreed to help these ladies, did you give any thought at all to the greater ramifications?”
That got Henry’s attention. “What did you say?”
“Have you given any thought at all as to how being here will affect your future?”
Henry’s brow furrowed. “I care only about protecting these ladies from Roald.”
One of the hounds lumbered closer to Ranulf’s chair. The beast sniffed at the knight, then settled himself at Ranulf’s feet.
“It’s not that simple,” Ranulf said, hiding his exasperation by bending down to scratch the dog behind its ears. “By involving yourself in this business, you’ve put yourself in danger of a charge of treason.”
“Again?” Henry scoffed, straightening. “Have you gone mad?”
“If the king takes Roald’s side, that’s what he might call it.”
“You said the king conferred with Roald in private. That hardly sounds like a firm alliance.”
