Page 6 of Lion of Thunder (De Lohr Dynasty: Sons of de Lohr #5)

CHAPTER FIVE

“H e looks handsome enough, my lady. I could see him from the window.”

Seated in her messy bower, with cats sleeping on the bed and two pet rabbits underneath a nearby table, Elysande listened to her maid chatter on about Westley. Westley is so handsome, she had said. Westley is so strong! Westley looks like a god! Elysande had to roll her eyes at her excitable maid.

“Enough, Freddie,” she said miserably. “I do not want to hear your opinions again.”

“Aye, my lady.”

“If you like Westley de Lohr so much, you marry him.”

“I am not betrothed to him, my lady.”

But I am . That thought caused Elysande to hang her head in shame, in agony. She tipped back over, falling flat on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“What have I done?” she muttered. “Mama is going to be furious.”

Frederica du Nor, or Freddie as she was known, continued to busy herself about the chamber. She was actually a cousin, orphaned, who had come to live with Marius and his family when she was quite small. Esther didn’t like the girl’s mother, however, so Freddie had been relegated to the life of little more than a servant, when the truth was that Freddie’s mother had been meant for Marius many years ago until Esther’s more powerful family edged the woman out. She’d married Marius’ younger brother, but in the end, the jealousy was still there for Esther. She couldn’t get past it. Marius, however, had always been kind to the girl, as had Elysande.

They were quite close.

“I could ask why you did it,” Freddie said as she went for the broom. “Everything seemed to be going well before Hereford’s arrival. Your mother had you properly washed and primped, but the moment she left and you changed into your usual clothing, I should have asked you why. I should have known you intended to do something. Resistance to this betrothal is all you’ve spoken of lately, so mayhap I should have tried to stop you.”

As Elysande lay on her back, one of the cats on the bed saw their mistress and climbed up on the woman’s abdomen. The kneading with sharp little claws began as Elysande winced.

“I am certain after this display, the betrothal will be broken, so mayhap it achieved its goal after all,” she said, stroking the cat. “Mama will take her pound of flesh before she sells me to the nearest convent.”

Freddie began to sweep some of the dried grass left behind by the rabbits who roamed freely in the chamber. “Certainly you knew that would be her reaction,” she said. “Knowing this, you still went ahead and tried to attack your betrothed.”

Elysande sighed heavily. “I could not have done much damage,” she said. “You saw how big he is.”

“Then you are a fool.”

“I know.”

Before Freddie could respond, the door swung open and Esther appeared. From the expression on her face, it was clear she knew what had happened. Someone had told her before Elysande could. Spying her daughter on the bed, she narrowed her eyes dramatically.

“ You! ” she spat.

Elysande knew that tone. She pushed the cat off her belly and stood up, preparing to run. “Mama, please,” she said. “I know it was foolish. I know I should not have done it. But it is your fault for forcing this… this travesty .”

Esther was not in a forgiving mood. She’d been in the hall when Harker arrived ahead of Hereford and told her what Elysande had done. Bowing out quickly and leaving Harker to tend to their guests, she’d darted into the keep to confront her daughter. Grabbing the broom out of Freddie’s hands, she wielded it like a club as she charged her child.

“How dare you shame this family with your actions!” she said, chasing her daughter around the room while swinging the broom at her head. “And you’ll not cast the blame on me. You had a choice. As always, you made the wrong one!”

Elysande yelped as the broom missed her head by mere inches. “I am sorry I shamed you,” she said, falling to the floor and trying to squeeze under her bed. “I thought I could force him to change his mind. I did not set out to deliberately humiliate you.”

She wasn’t fast enough in pulling herself under the bed because Esther was able to drop the broom and grab her by the feet. Giving a big yank, she pulled the woman out from underneath the bed and Elysande ended up on her belly, in the middle of the floor, as her mother spanked her on the buttocks with her bare hand.

“You will never disobey me again, do you understand?” she shouted as Elysande shrieked. “Tell me that you understand me because I can do this all night. Well? ”

Her mother was getting in some good blows. “I understand,” Elysande cried, trying to put a hand between her buttocks and her mother’s palm. “I am sorry, Mama! Please stop!”

Esther came to a halt, standing up to straighten her dress and her wimple. She eyed her daughter severely as the woman sat up, blinking away tears.

“Now,” Esther said, “you are going to dress appropriately and come down to the hall.”

Elysande wouldn’t look at her. “I do not want to go down there,” she said. “I cannot face Lord Hereford and his son.”

“You can and you will,” Esther said firmly. “You brought this upon yourself, Ella. Take responsibility and greet your guests properly. If you do it well enough, they may forget about your idiocy.”

Elysande wasn’t so sure, but she nodded because she had no other choice. She didn’t want her mother trying to spank her again, so there wasn’t much more she could do. She kept her gaze averted until Esther departed the chamber. When the woman was gone and all was brittle silence, Freddie came out of the shadows.

“Come along,” she said with quiet firmness. “You do not want to keep your guests waiting.”

With a heavy sigh, Elysande picked herself up off the floor. God help her, she was going to have to face the man she’d tried to attack. Unless, of course, the floor opened up and swallowed her, which would have been preferable to facing Westley de Lohr. She wondered how much more abuse she was going to have to take tonight as a result of her impulsive behavior.

She had a feeling she was about to find out.

Perhaps she wouldn’t go to the hall after all.

*

He told his father he was seeking the garderobe.

That wasn’t exactly the truth. The reality was that Westley just needed a breath of fresh air. The longer he sat in that stuffy, smelly hall, the more he wanted to simply get out and breathe.

He wasn’t exactly fighting the betrothal anymore, but he also still wasn’t willing to make it incredibly easy for his father. After what had transpired this afternoon, he had a hard time believing his father was still willing to go through with it, but clearly, the man was. Westley was sure that the attack upon him was a window into his future, and he was furthermore certain that things like that were going to happen with great frequency. Perhaps one of those times his wife would get lucky and he would end up with a punctured belly.

Then his father would be sorry.

Maybe.

In any case, Westley felt sorry enough for himself for the both of them. He was on the north side of Massington’s great hall, nowhere near the garderobe, but it was relatively quiet here and away from the noise and smoke of the hall. He’d been out here for about twenty minutes and knew at some point soon his father was going to come looking for him, so he was soaking in the last few moments of peace before heading back into that hall. Perhaps the banshee he was supposed to marry would be there. He seriously wondered if he needed to be on his guard in the hall.

He wouldn’t be surprised.

Westley was sitting in the shadows of the wall, camouflaged by one of the flying buttresses that supported the northern wall. He was staring up at the sky, at the constellations, something he had shown great aptitude for during his school years. To him, the stars were nothing more than mathematics, and given that that was a gift he had, he found their arrangements fascinating. The priests taught that God made the heavens and the Earth, and he had to agree because certainly nothing short of God could create something so mathematically perfect. He had also been taught that the stars were nothing more than fixed points of light embedded within the celestial sky, but as a young man, he had studied those points of light and knew that they moved. Were they other heavens? Other suns? Other countries, like England?

Perhaps someday they would know.

As he was gazing up at a particular constellation, he caught movement off to the left. Servants were moving back and forth between the kitchens and the hall, so he wasn’t completely alone out here, but he realized that there was someone else in the area nearby. A flying buttress was concealing the figure somewhat, so he watched with some curiosity as the figure moved out of the shadow and into the faint torchlight. Then it hit him.

It was the banshee.

Westley froze because he didn’t want her to see him. Given what happened between them earlier in the day, he couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t try to attack him again. He wasn’t armed and he was fairly certain he could fight her off with ease, but he really didn’t want to have to try. Perhaps if he stayed completely still, she would simply not see him and leave him alone.

That was the hope, anyway.

Unfortunately, it was not to be.

Elysande came around the corner of the buttresses and immediately spied Westley tucked back against the wall. She came to a startled halt and, as Westley watched, took a few steps back.

He braced himself for what was to come.

“I did not know you were out here,” she said, sounding surprised. “If I disturbed your peace, my apologies.”

Westley could hear the tension in her voice and it didn’t help his sense of self-protection. “You did not disturb me.”

She nodded and took another step back. She turned to leave but came to a halt again, hesitantly turning in his direction. Here it comes, he thought. He was expecting that this would be the moment she came after him again, and this time, there was no one to separate them. It could get ugly. He was prepared for that.

Already, he could feel his body tensing.

“I… I am glad to find you alone,” she said after a moment. “I did not think we would have this opportunity.”

He was wary. “Opportunity for what?”

She took a deep breath. “To apologize for attacking you this afternoon,” she said after a moment. “Sometimes I tend to act before thinking, and… and I apologize for my actions and for my words. You were right when you said you’d do better marrying a pig. I am sure you wish to break this betrothal, and I completely understand. You should.”

That wasn’t what Westley had expected to hear. In fact, it put him more on his guard than before because he had no idea if the woman was being sincere. Perhaps she was trying to lull him into a false sense of security.

He was careful with his answer.

“Why should you apologize for something that came naturally to you?” he said. “You do not want to be married. You expressed that opinion.”

“I did.”

“So did I.”

“Then why are you still here? Should you not be heading home?”

Westley eyed her a moment before sighing sharply and moving away from the wall. He faced her in the darkness. He couldn’t tell if her apology was sincere or not, but she didn’t seem angry or aggressive. Perhaps if there were any opportunity for honesty at this moment, he needed to take it.

He needed to get this over with.

“Because my father does not want to leave,” he said. “If you are going to be angry about that, then do it now and be done with it. My father will not dissolve this betrothal. You are going to have to convince your father to do it.”

Elysande snorted rudely. “My father will not break the betrothal,” she said. “Nor will my mother. I think she is more adamant about it than he is. What about your mother?”

Westley rolled his eyes. “My mother threatened me if I did not go through with this.”

“At least she only threatened you,” Elysande said, sounding defeated. “My mother beat me.”

Westley’s brow furrowed as he looked at her. “She did?”

“Absolutely.”

“When?”

“Not an hour ago.”

He let his gaze linger on her, trying to get a closer look at her in the dim light. “It could not have been very hard.”

Elysande’s eyebrows lifted. “The woman took her open hand and whacked me on the arse, several times,” she said. “If you think it was not very hard, then I’ll have her do the same thing to you. You’ll think differently then.”

Westley put up a hand. “Keep her away from me,” he said. “In fact, keep all mothers away from me. I want nothing to do with them.”

“Me either.”

“Fathers, too,” he said, disgruntled. “I’ve had my fill of them.”

“As have I,” Elysande agreed. “It would serve them right if we ran off and never spoke to them again.”

Westley shrugged. “I’ve thought about that,” he said. “When I was a child, I even tried a couple of times. But my father always found me and brought me back.”

“How long did you stay away?”

Westley cocked his head in thought. “The first time, it was a few hours,” he said. “The second time, it was two days. My uncle actually found me hiding at a livery in Hereford and brought me back. My mother took a stick to me and I could not sit down for a week.”

“Only two days?” Elysande said. “I ran away before my parents sent me to foster at Warwick and was gone for four days before my father’s men found me.”

“Did you fight them?”

She nodded. “Of course I did,” she said proudly. “Well, as much as I could, anyway. It was winter and I’d fallen through the ice at the fishpond because I’d been trying to catch my supper. My legs were nearly frozen. I spent almost two months in bed recovering.”

Westley grunted, folding his enormous arms across his chest as their conversation grew oddly cordial. “That story could have had another terrible ending,” he said. “You were fortunate they found you in the water. My father fell into a frozen river, once. We thought we’d lost him.”

“Winter is nothing to be trifled with,” Elysande agreed. “I learned that the hard way.”

“I think there are many things we learn the hard way,” Westley said. “That is nature’s way of ensuring we are never foolish again.”

“True,” Elysande said. “Fortunately, I’ve not done many foolish things in my life.”

“You’ve done at least one that I know of.”

“What?”

“Attacking a man as he came through your gatehouse.”

She looked at him, sharply, realizing he’d come back around to the source of her shame again. She was torn between defiance and surrender.

“I’ve apologized for it,” she said. “Must I do it again?”

He shook his head. “If you are sincere, there is no need.”

“I assure you that I am sincere.”

“Then I believe you,” he said. “But I do understand your reluctance toward the betrothal. If the situation had been reversed and you had come through the gatehouse of Lioncross to claim me, I might have attacked you also. I comprehend the logic.”

Elysande stared at him a moment before shaking her head, baffled. “There is no logic,” she said. “That is the problem. I was angry and frustrated and, truly, even though we’ve been betrothed for years, I thought our parents would grow weary of the wait and dissolve it. At least, I hoped my father would. But your father seemed to be most eager to maintain the integrity of it.”

Westley scratched his shaggy head. “I can well believe it,” he said. “I have no idea why. It is not as if you have anything great to offer.”

Elysande almost flared at that comment, but when she thought about it, she knew he was right. “It is not as if we are great title holders, at least not in England,” she said. “Though my father is a Flemish duc . Did you know that?”

Westley nodded. “I was told,” he said. “Nevele, is it?”

“Aye.”

“Have you ever been there?”

Elysande nodded. “Many times,” she said. “Have you been across the sea?”

“Not to those lands, but I have been to Paris and other places.”

She shrugged. “The land around Nevele is very green, very flat,” she said. “The soil is quite rich.”

“Were you born there?”

“Nay,” Elysande said. “I was born here. My father inherited the lands from his father, but no du Nor has lived at Nevele Castle in about four generations. Massington is our home.”

Westley pondered that. It also occurred to him that for the past few minutes, they’d been having a perfectly pleasant conversation. No attacks, no shouting. She was calm and he was calm. Although he’d known her long ago, he didn’t remember the rich sweetness of her voice when she spoke. He’d also never seen the womanly curves she’d developed since the last time he saw her. It was difficult to tell in the dim light that they were standing in, but he thought she was rather lush. And she was tall, too. He hadn’t remembered her being that tall. Most women were quite a bit shorter than he was, and it was rare to find one that came past his sternum.

But Elysande seemed to.

That was a pleasant surprise.

This entire conversation had been a pleasant surprise.

“I have some shocking news for you,” he said after a moment.

She looked at him with concern. “What is it?”

He turned to look at her. “We have been carrying on an agreeable conversation with no hint of aggression for several minutes,” he said. “Why do you suppose that is?”

Elysande stared at him a moment as if genuinely startled by his statement. After several moments, whereupon she seriously contemplated the question, she simply threw her hands in the air.

“I do not know,” she said. “Mayhap we have both gone mad.”

“Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “We are too young. Bewitched, mayhap?”

She nodded. “Possibly,” she said. “Did you bring a witch with you?”

“Nay,” he said. “Do you have one here?”

“Nay,” she replied as if still trying to find an answer. “Is it possible—now, I could be completely wrong—but is it possible we are actually reasonable adults and we are both reconciled to the future?”

She said it with some mirth, which he appreciated. He liked a woman with a sense of humor. But he looked at her, frowning, before shaking his head with vigor, as his shoulder-length hair wagged back and forth.

“Never,” he said. “Not us. We’re too…”

“Brilliant?”

“Aye,” he agreed. “Brilliant. We would not fall victim to such a thing, no matter how much we were threatened.”

She rubbed her bum. “Or spanked.”

“Exactly,” he said. “We are not so foolish.”

She waggled her eyebrows and pointed to herself reluctantly. “Well… there was earlier…”

The attack came up again, only this time, there was humor to it. None of the horrible rage and angst attached. The entire mood was lightening, in fact. Westley quickly put up his hands as if to surrender to her reminder.

“True,” he said. “But that has been forgotten.”

That brought Elysande pause as she gazed up at the man. “Has it truly?”

He looked at her, a hint of mirth on his face. “You said your apology was sincere.”

She nodded firmly. “It is,” she said. “And not because my mother beat me.”

The corners of his mouth twitched with a smile. “Then it has been genuinely forgotten,” he said. “May we call a truce?”

“I suppose we should.”

He grinned and held out a hand to her. “Take my hand and swear it.”

Fighting off a grin, Elysande did, placing her soft, warm hand in his palm. “I swear it.”

“So do I,” he said, holding her hand a moment longer before letting it go. “Now, we are facing a larger question.”

“What is that?”

“Do we tell our parents of this truce?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

He tapped his head thoughtfully. “Because if they think there is a hint of truce, they’ll be hanging over us every minute, wanting to know if we have grown to accept one another.”

Elysande made a face. “Awful.”

He could tell she wasn’t serious, but he nodded in agreement. “Completely,” he said. “They will want to know every step of the way what we think of one another.”

“Ghastly!”

“But if we do not tell them of the truth, they will think we are still at odds.”

“And they will leave us alone?”

He shrugged. “Not really, but enough so that they will not be hanging over us every second of the day.”

Elysande was trying to follow his train of thought. “And this is beneficial because…?”

“Because we clearly cannot get out of this betrothal,” he said. “That has been established.”

“It has.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you truly want your parents being present as we come to know one another?” he said. “If we keep up the ruse that we are not getting on, then mayhap they’ll not be so keen to force us together. At least, not until we can calm down and become reasonable. In their eyes, anyway.”

“Are you saying you are agreeable to this betrothal now?”

“Are you?”

“I asked you first.”

He took a deep, dramatic breath. He still had mirth in his features, but there was something more as well. Possibly interest, although Elysande couldn’t have seen it in the dark. The nuances of his expression were best seen in broad daylight.

But there was no mistaking the tone of his voice.

“Possibly,” he said quietly. “You?”

“Possibly,” she replied with equal softness. “And there is something else I must confess.”

“What is it?”

“You are not really smelly.”

That made him chuckle. “And I would not do better marrying a pig,” he said. “I am sorry I said that. I was angry and I often speak before thinking.”

“Much like I act before thinking.”

“God, what a pair we will make.”

Elysande started to laugh. “If we do not kill one another first.”

He couldn’t disagree. “Let us hope it does not come to that,” he said. He paused before continuing. “I am glad we have had this time, my lady. It is unexpected, but not unwelcome. I had just come out here to ponder my future when you appeared. It was fortuitous, I think.”

“And I had come out here to avoid seeing you inside.”

“Then the joke is on us.”

She was still chuckling. “I would say so.”

Westley could see her teeth in the moonlight, straight and white. Truth be told, she had a beautiful smile, something he didn’t remember from those years ago.

“The last I saw of you was many years ago at Warwick Castle,” he said. “Frankly, all I remember of you is that you tended to follow the squires around and play jokes on them. I remember being the butt of your jokes more than once.”

Elysande shrugged. “That is possible,” she said. “But I played jokes on a lot of squires, not just you. Truthfully, all I remember of you is that you were a big bully. I remember your shouting at the squires and pushing them around because you were a de Lohr and you were the biggest.”

“Do you still think I’m a bully, then?”

“I’ve not seen evidence of that yet.”

He snorted. “Then I will try not to do it,” he said. “But that brings me to something else. My father expects me in the hall at this moment. He is not very happy with me.”

Elysande looked up at the walls of the enormous hall with the steeply pitched roof. “And my mother is not happy with me, either,” she said. “I suppose I should go in so she will not beat me again.”

“And I should go in so my father does not berate me again.”

“Do we tell them of our truce, then?”

He sighed heavily. “I warned you what could happen if we do.”

“True,” she said. “Would it be better if I chased you through the hall with a sword?”

He grinned. “Not if you think your mother would spank you again.”

“She probably would.”

“Then mayhap we should simply enter together and take our chances by making our truce known.”

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“Are you?”

“Can you not simply answer a question, Sir Westley?”

He chuckled. “Possibly.”

“You’ve given me that answer before.”

“I possibly have.”

She started to laugh again. “Now you’re simply being annoying,” she said, though she was smiling as she turned in the direction of the hall entry. “Is that how you wish to form my opinion of you?”

“I’d rather be annoying than a bully.”

“How about you simply be Sir Westley and I will be Elysande?” she said as if it were a novel idea. “That seems the proper way to do this if we are truly come to know one another.”

“As you wish, my lady,” he said. “Let us be proper. But that is not very fun.”

“You’d rather have fun?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

She rolled her eyes and began to walk. “There you go again, not answering my questions.”

Westley began to walk after her, watching her rounded backside in the simple red dress she was wearing. He rather liked the view. In fact, he rather liked this entire conversation.

“Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t mean it. “I’ll try to stop answering questions with other questions.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, suspiciously. “Why don’t I believe you?”

With a grin, he shrugged. His lack of an answer told her what she needed to know. That only made her smile, but she turned around quickly so he wouldn’t see it. Or so she thought.

But he did.

Holy hell, if he wasn’t smiling, too.

And he wasn’t the least bit distressed about it, either.