Page 2 of The Sword and the Damsel (The De Veres #2)

T he sun was low in the sky when Alais’s maid, Dora, came in to help her get ready for dinner.

“What happened, my lady?” Dora asked, her green eyes twinkling in her wrinkled face, beneath her crown of white hair. She poured water into the wash basin and dipped a cloth in to bathe Alais’s tear-stained face.

“It’s nothing. I can’t talk about it.”

“Is it because Gilbert left? I only just heard.” She gently washed Alais’s cheeks. The cool water was so soothing.

Alais closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s nothing, Dora. I’ll be fine.”

“As you wish, my lady.” She wrung out the cloth and went to the wardrobe to help Alais pick a dress. “I think you should wear your red dress tonight.”

“Really? I don’t really feel like I’m in a red-dress mood. Do I have anything gray?”

“Trust me, my lady. Wear a red dress. It’s your battle armor. If they see you melancholy, they’ll ask questions. Your red dress always makes you stand taller.”

Alais had to admit to herself that Dora was right and acquiesced. The folds of the gown hugged her curves, and the gold trim around the square neck accentuated the swell of her breasts. A matching gold belt dangled in a V from her waist. The sleeves were fitted from shoulder to elbow and dripped down in generous gathers to reveal her pale, delicate forearms. Her thick chestnut hair cascaded down her back in waves with a subtle curl at the ends. She felt confident, regal, aloof. It was perfect.

“Thank you, Dora. You were right, as usual.”

When she went down to dinner, she was determined not to give the family any hint of her inner turmoil. She managed to joke and laugh as if nothing was amiss, despite her feelings. She commented on her mother’s change of tapestries in the great hall, replacing picnicking nobles in a floral field with autumnal hunting scenes. Carenza kept giving her glances across the table, which Alais ignored.

Toward the end of dinner, a servant announced, “Sir Victor of Guestling to see the Earl.”

Alais had almost forgotten about the ward from Lady Helisende. Sir Victor? This ward was old enough to be a knight? That didn’t bode well. She had hoped he would be someone young, innocent, and malleable, who could grow to be part of the family. An older youth might be resentful and make trouble.

“Send him in,” said Daniel with a nod.

She gasped as a full-grown man walked through the door, and she was not the only one. Daniel stood up, his brow furrowed and his jaw tense. Carenza reached for his hand, a warning look on her face. Alais shivered as the man’s glance traveled over each member of the assembled party and settled, last, on her.

He was tall and powerfully built and walked with deadly grace, but the first thing that drew her eye was a diagonal scar across his face. His right eye was covered by an eyepatch, and a line of scar tissue ran from the patch, across his nose, and down to the left corner of his mouth, giving him a permanent half smile. His one visible eye was deep twilight blue, and his sandy blond hair hung to his shoulders. He wore a brown leather tunic with cap sleeves and buckles down the front that conformed to the shape of his muscular chest, and the sinuous lines of his arms and legs were plain to see beneath the fine, black fabric of his fitted shirt and hose.

He must have once been devastatingly handsome, and Alais couldn’t help whispering to Carenza, “What happened to his face?”

She hadn’t meant to be overheard and immediately regretted saying anything at all.

He turned his piercing blue eye on her. The palpable tension in the room heightened. Daniel’s hand strayed to his sword, and Alais’s father gave subtle hand signals to the servants to summon armed guards.

“Cut myself shaving. Very clumsy,” he said, deadpan, looking her in the eye.

For a long moment, no one reacted. Daniel’s fingers twitched against his sword hilt.

Then Alais couldn’t help herself and burst into loud, awkward laughter. “Oh, I like you! You’re funny!”

He laughed with her, and the tension in the room broke. He had a marvelous laugh, rich, sonorous, and infectious. Soon everyone at the table was chuckling, though Carenza kicked Alais’s foot beneath the table.

“Thank God he has a sense of humor. Now keep your mouth shut,” Carenza whispered while everyone else was distracted.

She really hadn’t meant to be rude. Or overheard. Everyone else must have been wondering the exact same thing. Could she help it if she said what they were all thinking?

“Lord Daniel and Lady Carenza Rossignol, I am at your service,” he said with a bow to Daniel and Carenza. “My aunt sends her regards to you and the whole de Vere family.” He bowed to Alais’s parents, Lord Martin, and Lady Isabella de Vere. “From what she told me of her reasons for sending me, though, I don’t imagine her regards are particularly welcome. Nonetheless, here I am as a peace offering. I know your agreement specified she should send a ward or someone to marry into your family. I’m a little old to be a ward. I think my aunt is hoping I’ll marry, but I assure you I have no such expectation. Instead, if you’ll have me, I am prepared to swear fealty to you and enter your service. My aunt has released me from my oath to her so that I can join your household.”

Daniel stroked his thick, black beard. “I asked for a ward, not a vassal. This violates the terms of our agreement. Why should I accept you instead of tying you up and taking my knights to Hastings to remind your aunt what she agreed to?”

Sir Victor knelt slowly and then drew his sword, presenting it hilt first to Daniel.

“I’m a skilled fighter and an experienced battle commander, and my sword is yours, my liege, even if you order me to use it against my aunt. This is what she asked of me, and it is what I offer. Please, accept my sword.”

Daniel refrained from taking the sword, but he nodded slowly. “Tell me more. Of what value are you to me? I have swordsmen aplenty.”

“With all due respect to your swordsmen, it is unlikely you have any with my skill and experience. I returned a year ago from leading my aunt’s troops in Spain where we supported King Sancho II of Castilla and Leon against the Umayyads in the south.”

“Mark,” Daniel ordered one of the servants, “Go get Sir John and two wooden swords.” Then he turned back to Sir Victor, who was still kneeling. “Tell me more.”

“My aunt assigned me to lead Hastings’s Watch upon my return, so I have experience tracking and apprehending criminals and scofflaws and thwarting their activities,” Sir Victor continued. “I speak and read French, Spanish, and Latin. I have long familiarity with the traders and port business of Hastings and could be of assistance ensuring the smooth operations of your custom house.”

Daniel nodded slowly. If Alais had to guess, he was softening toward this idea.

At that moment, Sir John came in with two wooden swords. The sinewy old man looked wary as he assessed the stranger before him.

“Sir John commands my soldiers,” Daniel said. “He’s as skilled a swordsman as any I’ve ever met. You will fight to the first touch with wooden swords. The hit must be on the torso. Limbs don’t count. And you’ll lose automatically if you strike above the shoulders. If you win, you stay. If Sir John wins, I tie you up and take you back to your aunt. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord,” Sir Victor said, standing and sheathing his actual sword. With a perfunctory bow to John, he accepted the wooden sword. Sir John bowed back, and they took their positions.

“Begin,” Daniel called out, and Alais could hardly breathe. This might well be the most interesting dinner she’d ever had. Sir John was a formidable opponent. She’d watched him fight on many occasions and rarely had anyone bested him. On the other hand, this newcomer looked every inch a fighter, his long powerful arms moving with deadly precision.

The wooden blades clacked again and again, their movement too swift to follow. At first, it seemed they were evenly matched, then Sir Victor gained ground, forcing Sir John back into the limited space at the end of the dining hall. John thrust. Sir Victor dodged. A loud thwack sounded as Sir Victor’s blade smacked against Sir John’s left side, just below his ribs.

Alais realized she had bitten her lower lip hard enough to bleed and promptly let it go, trying to ignore the general warmth she felt after watching such a display.

Sir John stood straight and turned to Daniel, panting. “He’s a fine swordsman, my lord. He beat me cleanly, no tricks.” Turning back to Sir Victor, Sir John bowed, and Sir Victor returned the gesture. The two of them seemed pleased with each other, as if delighted to have found a truly worthy opponent.

After handing back his wooden sword, Sir Victor turned to Daniel, unsheathing his real sword once more. “Will you accept my sword, my lord?”

Daniel gave him a long, assessing look. “I will.”

Once again, Sir Victor knelt and held out his sword. “Upon my faith, I swear to be faithful to you, Daniel Rossignol, Earl of Winchelsea. I will never cause you harm, and I will observe my homage to you completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit.”

Daniel accepted his blade and his vow and invited him to stand.

“I hear you are a troubadour, my lord,” Sir Victor said, smiling as Daniel shook his hand. “I’ve made a hobby of learning every lewd troubadour song I can find, though I’m sure that won’t endear me to the ladies present.”

Intriguing.

Daniel laughed, returning to his chair. He was hooked. No doubt about it.

I guess this Sir Victor will be staying. She regretted her careless words even more now. No matter who he was, she didn’t want yet another person in the castle to think she was thoughtless and shallow, though perhaps in this case, she deserved it.

“You know the one with the cat?” Daniel asked.

“And the man from Auvergne? Indeed, I do,” he said. His crooked smile was infectious.

Oh my. I absolutely must hear this song.

“Ha! Well, I’m sure we’ll find a way to put your various talents to use. Come join us. Have some dinner. Let me introduce you to the family. This is my wife, Carenza Rossignol, Countess of Winchelsea.” She nodded her head politely. “Lord Martin and Lady Isabella de Vere are my vassals but also my in-laws.” They inclined their heads in acknowledgment. “And these are their two youngest daughters, Lady Alais and Lady Iselda.” When Alais looked up from her polite nod, a sharp shock ran through her as their gazes briefly met. She couldn’t recall ever having such a strong reaction to a man. It must be her mistrust. Anyone sent by Lady Helisende was suspect, especially this entirely unexpected man.

Daniel offered the seat across from him, which happened to be next to Alais. She kept quiet as he talked with Daniel and her father about the port’s business, listening carefully. No one knew or cared that she took an interest in how Winchelsea was run. Why should a second daughter bother? Besides, they all thought she was a brainless flirt. And she was a flirt, just not a brainless one.

This Sir Victor was quite knowledgeable, easily keeping pace with her father. He’d be a great help to Daniel who was still so new to it all.

Funny, smart, competent, if still highly suspicious. And I had to insult him with the first words out of my mouth.

She kept quiet under Carenza’s watchful gaze, only speaking to pass food.

“Oh, I’d skip the venison if I were you, my lord,” she said as Sir Victor asked her to pass the dish. “It’s a bit tough tonight, and the cooks over-spiced it. Try the snapper instead. It’s delicious.” She passed the platter with the snapper. Determined to do everything in her power to make up for her earlier blunder, she gave him her warmest and sweetest smile.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said, serving himself some.

“Get some of the red wine sauce too. It’s divine.”

He complied and took a bite. “Mm, that is good. Thank you for saving me from mediocre venison. I am in your debt.”

Carenza was momentarily distracted by a question from Daniel, and Alais decided to take full advantage.

“Then perhaps,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “you’ll explain about the song about the cat? I’m dying of curiosity.”

Sir Victor nearly choked on his snapper. “I don’t think your family would approve, my lady.” He nodded at Carenza who turned to give them a suspicious look.

“Don’t worry about her. She doesn’t approve of anything.” She said it loud enough for Carenza to hear, which earned her a kick under the table. “Well, you don’t! Ow!” Another kick. “Do you have sisters?”

“No,” said Sir Victor. “I was an only child. My mother died when I was young.”

“I’m sorry about your mother. Be grateful you don’t have sisters, though. They ruin all your fun.”

“When have I ever ruined your fun?” her younger sister Iselda interjected from her other side, her long brown braid draped over her shoulder.

“Not you. You’re lovely.” Alais gave Iselda a little side hug. “ She’s the one that ruins everything.” She pointed her knife at Carenza.

“I know you’re mad at me,” Carenza said through gritted teeth, “but can you please try to behave with some civility in front of our guest?”

Alais laid a hand on Sir Victor’s arm and batted her eyelashes at him. “Do you find my behavior objectionable, my lord?”

Sir Victor’s brow furrowed, and he stared at her with undisguised disapproval. Obviously, his answer to her question was yes .

“I’m sorry, my lord.” She released his hand and dropped the flirtatious look. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Christ’s eyebrows. He must still be mad about what I said.

Alais managed to behave herself for the rest of dinner, but barely. She stayed as quiet and demure as she could manage. Pretending boredom, she listened avidly while Daniel and her father quizzed Sir Victor about his work in Hastings and his time in Spain, but when the conversation turned away from Sir Victor, she found herself ruminating once again about the dismal prospect of a loveless marriage. If only she hadn’t gotten caught with Gilbert…

At last, dinner was over, and she couldn’t wait to retreat to the privacy of her room where she wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. Sir Victor kissed the hands of each of the ladies present before taking his leave. When he came to Alais, she wondered what he was thinking as he took her hand and glanced at her before letting his lips brush her skin. He looked conflicted, angry almost, but he lingered over her. A little shiver shot through her as he released her hand. Whether it was a shiver of pleasure or of dislike, she wasn’t entirely sure.

He made her feel things—mostly shame and embarrassment. And he was Lady Helisende’s nephew. But she couldn’t help admitting to herself she was intrigued.