Page 17 of Lion of Thunder (De Lohr Dynasty: Sons of de Lohr #5)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“H as anyone seen them this morning?”

The question came from Dustin.

Seated in the great hall of Massington, she sat alongside her husband and Esther, and that was the extent of the people in the hall other than the senior officers of the de Lohr escort. The soldiers were on duty or still in the troop house, and both knights were outside with the men. In response to Dustin’s question, Esther shook her head.

“Nay,” she said as a servant poured her a measure of hot, watered wine. “I have not seen them. But I did… hear them.”

Esther’s chamber was right next to her daughter’s, where the newly married couple had taken up residence. When Dustin looked at her questioningly, Esther simply waggled her eyebrows in a suggestive manner, and Dustin took her meaning immediately.

“I see,” Dustin said, perhaps a little surprised. “But… in a good way? No yelling or fighting?”

Esther shook her head slowly. “None,” she said. “I believe we may have a successful marriage, after all.”

That was a huge relief to Dustin and Christopher. They looked at one another, Dustin smiling timidly as Christopher breathed a sigh of relief.

“Given how West was behaving even just a few days ago, I find that surprising,” he said. “Pleasing, but surprising.”

Esther smiled. “I agree with you,” she said. “I am assuming he will stay here for the time being? And not return with Ella to Lioncross?”

Christopher shook his head. “I told him that he should remain here and become acquainted with the castle and the land,” he said. “If he is to inherit all of this someday, he will need to know it.”

Esther nodded, sipping on her wine, which was too hot to drink, so she set it aside. “Harker and Olan will be able to tell him much,” she said. “They are good men, though you’ve not had the opportunity to see that for yourself because they have made themselves scarce. They are quite vigilant in their management of Massington, and I am grateful. Given that Marius does nothing these days, it is good to have their alertness.”

“Where is Marius?” Christopher asked quietly.

Esther forced a smile. “Probably in his solar, sleeping off yesterday’s binge,” she said. “That is usual. You will not see him today, of all days. I believe that the advent of Ella’s marriage will plunge him further into depression, knowing he will never see Emory’s wedding. He mourns what has been lost, what will never be.”

Christopher was listening with some sympathy. “I can understand that,” he said. “But when the time is right, mayhap you will remind him that he will have grandsons through his daughter. And since West will inherit the duchy of Nevele, I will encourage him to keep the du Nor name. Mayhap that will give Marius some comfort.”

Esther looked at him in surprise. “You would do that?”

“I believe it is the right thing to do.”

She shook her head in wonder. “That is extremely generous, my lord,” she said. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Esther went to collect her cup of wine, now cooling off. “Speaking of pleasure, it has been a great pleasure having you both here,” she said. “I hope you will stay as long as you like.”

Christopher tried to stifle a yawn, as it was still fairly early. “As much as we appreciate your kind invitation, we shall be departing on the morrow,” he said, looking at his wife for her agreement. “I feel that we should stay one more day to ensure this marriage is, indeed, a peaceful one, but if it is, there is no reason for us to remain.”

“I understand,” Esther said as Dustin nodded to her husband’s statement. “I hope you can return to visit us often, then.”

Christopher chuckled. “I am not entirely sure West would appreciate that,” he said. “He might think I am coming to check up on him, so for the first several months, at least, I will stay away. West needs to learn to stand on his own feet now. I can no longer be a crutch.”

Esther cocked her head curiously. “Do you feel you have been?”

Christopher shrugged. “Westley is our youngest son,” he said. “I am certain there was some amount of coddling going on, probably up until yesterday. He is very attached to his mother’s apron strings.”

Dustin scowled. “He is not,” she said to him before looking at Esther. “But he can be immature at times. With five older brothers constantly making the decisions, what chance does he have? I agree with my husband—we will not be visiting him anytime soon. Let the man find his own path, his own voice.”

Esther understood. The entire situation was delicate for them all. As she changed the subject and engaged Dustin in a conversation about purchasing a finer wardrobe for Elysande, since that had been a topic in the past, Christopher finished up his meal. The two women seemed to be getting on much better, and as the discussion devolved into a women’s conversation, Christopher felt confident enough to leave them alone and excused himself. There were a few fine stallions in Marius’ stable that he wanted to get a look at and possibly purchase, so as the main topic in the hall became silks and fabrics, Christopher wandered out to the stables.

Already, it was a good day.

But it would be the last good day for some time to come.

*

“Are you awake?”

Westley was lying facedown in the bed, one leg hanging over the side. He’d been dreaming about a little cottage near a lake on his father’s lands and how he always wanted to have the chamber that faced the lake when he’d been a child. Curtis and Roi would take it over, however, and kick him out, but his dream was about him reclaiming that chamber.

Until a soft voice filtered into his dream.

“Westley? Are you awake?”

He peeped an eye open, seeing a chamber he didn’t recognize until he quickly remembered whose chamber it was and why he was there. A sleepy smile spread across his face and he rolled onto his back, finding himself gazing up at Elysande. She was wearing the green linen with the white shift underneath, her hair pulled into a braid. She was smiling in return, and he reached out, grasping her by the wrist and pulling her down to him on the bed.

“Good morn to you, cherie ,” he murmured, kissing her on the lips. “How did you sleep?”

He was pulling so forcefully that Elysande had to put her hands on his chest to keep from falling into him. “Well,” she said as he kissed her face repeatedly. “And you?”

“Well,” he said. “What there was of it, anyway.”

Her cheeks turned their predictable shade of red. “It is at least two hours after sunrise,” she said. “The castle is up and moving. I am certain our parents are up and moving. Should we go and see them?”

He stopped kissing her and sighed. “Must we?”

She snorted. “Why not?”

“Because I would rather stay here with you.”

Elysande was completely unused to flirtation or any manner of love talk, and her red face continued to get redder. “We cannot stay here all day, Westley.”

“Why not?”

She didn’t really have an answer for him other than she was embarrassed by the idea. More than likely because if they did stay there all day, everyone would know what they were doing. While he didn’t care and, in fact, would be rather proud of it, she did and probably wouldn’t. She was still a delicate maiden in mind even if her body wasn’t. Her body had responded quite spectacularly to her new husband. Westley tried not to think of that because he was going to become amorous all over again.

“Very well,” he said, tossing off the covers and sitting up. “We shall go see the parents. But we are going to eat in this chamber tonight and spend all night and mayhap even all day tomorrow here. I think we have that right.”

Elysande picked up a horsehair brush and began brushing the ends of her braid. “What right?” she said. “To become recluses?”

He frowned. “Do you not wish to spend time alone with me?”

She smiled bashfully. “Of course I do,” she said. “But we have the rest of our lives to do that. If you do it too much now, won’t you become weary of me?”

He stood up, his naked body in full view. “Of course not,” he said as if that were the most foolish thing he’d ever heard. “How can you even suggest such a thing?”

She noticed he was nude and kept her back turned to him, though she wasn’t as shocked as she had been last night when he first stripped down. She’d spent the entire night attached to that body one way or the other, and she rather liked it. She noticed that he was grabbing for his breeches, but she stopped him.

“Are you not going to wash this morning?” she asked.

He froze, looking at her strangely. “Why?”

“Because… because of last night,” she said, refusing to look at him as she gestured to her pelvic area. “There was a lot of… Well, there was perspiration and… it was sticky and… Well, are you going to wash it off?”

Her last few words came out quickly, like a plea, and he smiled as he put the breeches back where he found them. “I take it you like a clean husband?”

She shrugged. “Not really,” she said. “It is not that. But there is much of… me on you.”

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. “Would it be wrong of me to say that I like smelling you on me?” he said. “It will remind me of you.”

Elysande didn’t say any more, mostly because his body against hers had her heart racing. She could smell him, too, and it was not unpleasant. But the truth was that things had gotten a bit sticky last night, and proof of her virginity, faint though it may be, was still on him and still on the bed where body fluids had run. She was embarrassed by the whole thing, but not so embarrassed when he held her close. She reasoned that it was something she had to become accustomed to.

His body smelling like hers.

Her body smelling like his.

“Then get dressed,” she said. “I will not complain if you want to smell like me all day.”

He kissed her head, lightly spanked her bottom affectionately, and returned for his breeches. In little time, he was dressed in the same clothing he had worn the day before. He pulled the horsehair brush out of her hand and ran it through his hair a couple of times, something he didn’t normally do, but he figured that a woman wanted a husband that was at least moderately groomed. Perhaps he’d even buy a brush for himself at some point. He thought he was finished and set the brush down, going to the door to wait for her, but she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back over to her dressing table. Picking up a comb this time instead of the brush, she began to drag it through his locks.

“Honestly, Westley,” she said, “your hair looks like a nest for birds.”

He frowned. “It does not!”

“I noticed it from the first.”

He tried to look at her as she yanked the comb through his hair. “That is the first thing you noticed about me?” he said. Then he winced when she hit a snag. “Och, lady. Be careful with that thing.”

Elysande struggled not to laugh. “You have a big knot at the back of your neck,” she said, trying to work on it. “When is the last time you combed your hair?”

“That is none of your business.”

“You know, if you are not going to brush it, then you should simply shave it off.”

He quickly darted away from her, putting his hands on his hair. “How dare you suggest such a thing,” he said without force. “I am like Samson of the Bible. My hair is my strength. You stay away from me, Delilah.”

Elysande started to laugh at him, the silly lad, but her smile quickly faded. Samson, he’d mentioned.

That brought her thoughts around to Fitz Walter.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” she asked softly.

He wasn’t sure what she meant. “Who?”

“Samson Fitz Walter.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Ah,” he said. “Truthfully, love, I do not know. Possibly.”

“How is your nose this morning?”

He touched it gingerly. “A little sore,” he said. “Is it bruised?”

“A little.”

Reaching out, he took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a sweet kiss. “Do not worry about him,” he said, softly but with confidence. “He cannot hurt us. He cannot get to you. I will kill him if he tries, so I do not want you to worry. Understood?”

She nodded, but was clearly still upset. “Understood,” she said. “But are you simply going to leave things the way they are? With your giving him a beating and his retreating home?”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as he led her to the chamber door. “What would you have me do?”

She shrugged. “You will be Lord Ledbury someday,” she said. “Fitz Walter is a neighbor, like it or not. We cannot live the rest of our lives in fear of his attacks.”

“Do you want me to apologize to him?”

“Nay, not apologize,” she said as he opened the door for them both. “But… ease the situation somehow? Mayhap speak with the man and try to be diplomatic? I have a feeling you would make a very good diplomat. You know how to speak to people.”

He looked at her as if impressed. “Flattery, Lady de Lohr?” he said with a wink. “Well done.”

She giggled as they headed out of the chamber and toward the stairs. “It is not flattery if it is true,” she said. “But mayhap you should consider trying to at least make peace with Fitz Walter. I fear what a conflict with him will do to Massington. To us.”

They hit the stairs and Westley went down first, holding her hand as he went. “If that is your wish, then let me speak to my father about it,” he said. “Fitz Walter’s animosity is toward my father. Let me see what he thinks and form a course of action. Fair enough?”

She nodded. “Fair enough,” she said. They came to the bottom of the stairs with the entry to the keep looming in front of them. “Thank you, Westley. For listening to my concerns.”

He smiled and kissed her hand. “I will always listen to your concerns, my lady,” he said. “Your opinion means a great deal to me.”

“You would not have said that three days ago.”

“Three days ago, I was a fool.”

Holding hands, they quit the keep, heading out into the bright, if somewhat brisk, morning. As soon as they exited, Elysande caught sight of Freddie over near the kitchen yard and, begging leave of Westley, headed off in the woman’s direction because Freddie seemed to be wrestling with a large basket in her arms. That left Westley continuing on to the great hall alone.

Or, at least, he thought he was alone.

Suddenly, Olan was beside him.

“My lord,” Olan said. “May I congratulate you on your wedding yesterday? I’ve not had the chance to offer my best wishes.”

Westley came to a halt, facing the young knight. “Thank you,” he said. “And for your help last night with Fitz Walter, you have my gratitude as well.”

Olan nodded quickly. “In truth, I was hoping to find you alone this morning,” he said. “I had a conversation with Fitz Walter on the road as he left Massington last night. I wanted to speak with you about it but did not want to do it in front of Lady Elysande or your father. What I have to say is for your ears alone. Is it convenient now?”

That was a question Olan had been waiting to ask since last night, since he made his deal with Fitz Walter and the man had staggered home. Olan had been up most of the night, planning what he would say to Westley, planning how he would get the man to do what he wanted him to do. The immediate need was all he was concerned with.

The far-reaching consequences of his actions were of little matter.

He needed to get Westley alone.

“I suppose so,” Westley said. “I think Ella is over in the kitchen yard, so you may speak now. What is it?”

Olan looked around. He didn’t want anyone, like Christopher or even Elysande, interrupting them. On the wall, Harker was looking right at them, and Olan didn’t want the man seeing more than he should. He motioned for Westley to come with him.

“Let us find some place private to speak,” he said, gesturing to a small tower directly ahead. “The armory should suffice. I do not want anyone else hearing what I must tell you.”

“It must be important.”

“It is.”

Westley followed him to the armory but was hesitant to go inside. He’d just married the woman that Olan loved and, not knowing Olan at all, wasn’t sure if the man was trying to lure him into an enclosed room to ambush him, so he stood at the door, with it wide open, as Olan stood inside and looked at him.

“Come inside and close the door, my lord,” Olan said.

But Westley begged off. “You’ll forgive me if I am not comfortable doing so,” he said. “There is no one around to hear us. What did you wish to speak about?”

Olan seemed surprised at first, but then it occurred to him what Westley meant. He’d never shown any animosity toward him and, in fact, had gone out of his way to prove otherwise, but Elysande must have said something.

He could see the mistrust in Westley’s eyes.

“My lord, I will give you no trouble, I assure you,” he said. “The lady was meant for greater things than me. That is all I will say about it.”

Westley’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, but he didn’t come inside. He remained in the doorway. “You followed Fitz Walter out of the gatehouse last night,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

Olan nodded. “That is what I wanted to speak with you about,” he said. “This is not for your father’s ears, my lord. Only you.”

Westley frowned. “Why me?”

“As the next Lord Ledbury,” Olan clarified. “I have been acquainted with Samson Fitz Walter several years now. He is a man who prefers solitude, and he is not the friendly type. From what I know, he does not have any friends in the area. I do not even think he entertains. But he came to Marius a few years ago and the subject of a betrothal between him and Elysande came up. That much you know.”

Westley nodded. “I do.”

“Clearly, Fitz Walter knows that the marriage has taken place,” he said. “He knows that the lady is married and that is the end of his pursuit. But he made many threats against your father as he left last night.”

“What kind of threats?”

Olan shrugged. “The usual,” he said. “He wants the man dead. He kept calling him a murderer. For whatever reason, he views Elysande as a stolen bride. He threatened to steal her back.”

“He did, did he?”

“He made a lot of threats last night, most of them aimed at your father,” Olan said. “But I was able to calm him a little. He feels he’s been grossly insulted by Marius, by your father, and by you. Still, he was not without reason. He understood that the fight was his doing. He came, he threatened, and you reacted. He did not blame you, strangely enough. In fact, he said that he was willing to… talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“He wishes to speak with you but does not want your father present,” Olan said. “My lord, I do not know what longstanding hatred is between Fitz Walter and your father, but it runs deep. He seems much more amenable to speaking with you and you only, especially if the two of you are to be neighbors.”

Westley looked at him dubiously. “Why does he seem amenable to me?” he said. “I am my father’s son.”

“But you are not your father,” Olan said. “It is my sense that the man feels terribly insulted by everyone, and that is not going to be eased if no one discovers why. If there is no peace settlement now, Fitz Walter will keep up his attacks on Massington. Your wedding to Elysande seems to be fueling some rage in him. He wanted to marry her but she was promised to you. He has threatened to bring his army and attack Massington, but if you are able to convince him otherwise, it would mean that we could all live in peace.”

“You think he is serious?”

“I do,” Olan said. “Most of all, he’s serious about Elysande. I am certain you do not wish for her to be in danger for the rest of her life.”

“Of course not,” Westley said. “But what can I do to convince Fitz Walter not to attack Massington as he has threatened? I thrashed the man within an inch of his life, de Bisby. I cannot believe he would simply overlook that and ask for a parley.”

Olan shrugged. “You said it best yesterday morning when you saw Ella training,” he said. “Emotions will get you killed in battle. They make a man reckless. I got the sense that Fitz Walter was being fed by his emotions, and, consequently, he was reckless. I also got the sense that he regretted that.”

Westley wasn’t so sure. But, then again, he didn’t know Fitz Walter. All he knew was what his father had told him and now what de Bisby was telling him. Was it possible the man really had acted on impulse and then, after a sound beating, regretted his actions? Of course it was. Westley had been through that very thing in his life before, more than once. He’d gotten too arrogant, taken a pounding, and was sorry for it afterward.

It happened all of the time.

It was very possible it had happened now.

Something else Olan said had his attention. Did Westley want Elysande to be a target for Fitz Walter in the future? Did he want her life at risk from a man who thought he’d been wronged? Of course he didn’t. He knew, as he lived and breathed, that he would do anything to protect her. Anything to remove any danger from her life. Odd how the only women he’d ever felt that strongly about were his mother and sisters, but now he was feeling it with Elysande, and he’d never felt so strongly about anything. He’d kill anyone who threatened her, but short of killing them to remove the threat, it was possible there was another way.

A discussion.

Westley had never been the great diplomat, in spite of what Elysande had said. He had brothers who were far more diplomatic than he was. He’d rather speak with his weapons. But what if it was possible to end a forty-year hatred for his father? What if he could end that, too? Would he be willing to try, for his father’s sake?

Of course he would.

There was no question.

“Then what do you want me to do?” he finally asked Olan. “Do I take an army to Hell’s Forge and parley with Fitz Walter?”

Olan cocked his head. “If you want to enrage the man, then that would be a way to do it,” he said. “My lord, the only way this will work is if you go alone. I will go with you if you wish because I know Fitz Walter. He does not hate me. You and I will go and you will speak with the man and see if there is some accord you can come to. Some peace. Wouldn’t that be far better than living with angst and tension, fearful that every time Elysande goes beyond the gates, danger is waiting for her?”

Westley considered that. “I should tell my father,” he said. “He would be very angry if I went to speak with Fitz Walter and made a bigger mess out of the situation.”

“He will also tell you not to go,” Olan said. “Worse still, he will want to go with you. Ultimately, your father is why Fitz Walter is so angry. If he comes with you, that is more dangerous than you can imagine. Why would you expose your father to a man who hates him so?”

“True,” Westley said, pondering the situation. Olan had made some very good points. “Very well, then. I’ll go, but you will come. It’s important that I do not go alone. How far is Hell’s Forge from here?”

“Almost a day,” Olan said. “Shorter if we ride faster.”

“Should I not at least tell my wife?”

My wife.

Olan felt as if a knife had just sliced through him. His body shuddered, imperceptibly, but it was enough to jar him. He hadn’t heard those words where they pertained to Elysande yet, and they only served to reinforce that what he was doing was right and necessary. This had to happen. Westley had to go.

He had to be the sacrifice to Fitz Walter.

“Do not tell her,” Olan said after a moment. “She never could keep a secret, and if she tells your father, he will come after you and you will have a very old man facing an enemy who hates him desperately. Again—you should not subject your father to that. But I will tell Harker so at least someone knows where we are if we do not return. Not that I am concerned over that, but just in case.”

Westley didn’t like any of this, but Olan had made a strong enough case. Perhaps this was just another step in the maturity of Westley de Lohr, the youngest de Lohr brother, the man who needed to grow up. He had a wife now. He had the opportunity to protect her and his father at the same time. Dialogue with an enemy whereby they would at least come to a truce. If that was the best Westley could hope for, he would take it.

“When do you want to leave?” he finally asked. “And even if I do not tell Ella where I am going, I need to tell her something. She will notice if I’m gone for hours.”

“True,” Olan said. “Then tell her that you have a task to attend to. Mayhap hint that you want to buy her a wedding present. Something that will take you away from Massington for the day.”

“Just the day?”

“I do not think this will take too long,” Olan said. “Either Fitz Walter will be receptive or he won’t. And do not tell her you are going with me. That will make her suspicious.”

“Why?”

“Because you are taking a man you hardly know to help you purchase a wedding gift?”

“You know her better than I do. It could happen.”

Olan shook his head. “I would not chance it,” he said. “Mayhap you should not tell her anything at all. She’ll wonder where you are, but I do not think she will panic about it. She’ll probably assume you have business elsewhere.”

“My father knows I do not.”

“Then they will wonder where you went, and when you return to tell them that you have brokered a truce with Fitz Walter, they will be pleased and relieved.”

Olan seemed to have all of the answers. Since Westley didn’t know the man particularly well, he couldn’t have known that this was unusual for him. Being too helpful, too full of suggestions. Since Olan had served at Massington for years, and Elysande trusted him, he would trust him as well.

And that would be his most grievous mistake.

Before the hour was out, they departed through the postern gate, undetected, and headed north for Hell’s Forge.

And Harker saw everything.