Page 6 of Historical Hotties
“Your grace,” he said. “I did not know you were at this festival, else I would have sought you as soon as I arrived. You will accept my deepest apologies for not greeting you sooner.”
The duke looked at him curiously. “I know you, I think,” he said, noting the royal standard. But more than that, he was noting the enormous knight with the pale blue eyes who was vaguely familiar. “In London, was it?”
Cassius nodded. “Aye, your grace,” he said. “I am the king’s Lord Protector, Cassius de Wolfe. I accompanied the king on his visit to Edenthorpe two years ago.”
“I recall.”
“I have come this time with Edward’s compliments and a message.”
Vincent Rossington de Ryes, Duke of Doncaster, lit up at the mention of Edward. Perhaps there was some recognition there for Cassius, too, but he seemed to be delighted to hear Edward’sname mentioned. An elderly man in his seventh decade, Old Cuffy was a favorite because of his generosity and wisdom. He was well loved by his vassals and well liked in military circles. He didn’t go to battle like some of the upper crust did, but he could always be counted on for men or material. Edward had a particular fondness for his friend, Old Cuffy.
And his money.
“I am honored,” Doncaster said, rising to his feet. “Will you sit with me, Sir Cassius? I should like to hear Edward’s message.”
Cassius took a few steps towards the table, looking around at all of the people, not only on the platform, but in general. The area was swarming with them.
“If you please, your grace,” Cassius said. “I would prefer to deliver the king’s message in a more… private setting. It is for your ears only, after all. Will you indulge me?”
Doncaster was already moving away from the table, nodding his head. “Of course,” he said. “How silly of me. Shall you accompany me to my castle?”
Cassius nodded. “It would be an honor, your grace,” he said. “Let me collect my men and we will meet you at the castle gate.”
As people on the platform began to scatter, helping the old duke down the stairs and clearing off the food, Cassius took the other set of stairs and bolted through the crowd, hunting for Rhori and Bose. He finally found them in the distance, over by the ale table, and he quickly headed in that direction.
Until someone grabbed him by the arm.
“Where are you going?” It was Amata and she did not look pleased. “You cannot leave now. We are to be crowned the king and queen of the festival!”
Cassius paused, though he was greatly impatient. “You shall have to find another king,” he said. “I have business with Doncaster.”
He patted her hand and headed off, but she followed, practically running beside him because his strides were so long. “You are going to the Edenthorpe?”
“I am.”
He couldn’t see her petulant frown, and even if he could, he wouldn’t have cared. “But when will you return?” she asked.
“I will not, my lady, though I thank you for the dance and the polite conversation.”
Amata wasn’t about to let him get away so easily. “You will not find anything of value at Edenthorpe,” she said. “There will be no one to entertain you and you will not have any fun. Youmustreturn with me.”
“I am sorry, but I cannot.”
Amata picked up her pace and ended up running in front of him, blocking his path. When he looked at her, his impatience now evident, she slid her soft hands onto his arm.
“Youwillbe back,” she said confidently. “The only thing you are going to find at Doncaster is an old duke and his ugly granddaughter, and you must stay away from her. So– youshallreturn here, to me, and we shall dance all night.”
Cassius eyed her curiously. “Why must I stay away from the granddaughter?”
Amata lifted her eyebrows as if he had asked a stupid question. “Because she bears the marks of a witch, of course,” she said. “You have not heard that of her?”
“I have not. What marks?”
Amata leaned into him as if gifting him with information of great importance. “On her face,” she said in a low voice. “She is covered with them. Dacia of Doncaster is her name and she is my cousin, but I pity the lass. To look upon her is to become cursed. You do not want to be cursed, do you?”
Cassius’ eyes narrowed. “You have looked upon her,” he said. “Have you become cursed?”
Amata shook her head. “I am her cousin and she loves me,” she declared. “She would not curse me.”
