Page 15 of While Angels Slept (de Lohr Dynasty #1)

Cantia struggled with her brave front. “Nothing, my lord. We were simply speaking of my son and she asked me where he was to foster. I said… I said that we had not yet petitioned to foster him because….”

So much for the brave front. The tears returned and she struggled not to fall apart. Tevin was careful to resist his natural urge to physically comfort her in some way. Instead, he sat beside her on the bench, very close, and watched her wrestle with her composure.

“Because why?” he asked gently.

She sniffled into her hand. “Because he’s too young,” she finally blurted. “I have just lost my husband. I cannot fathom the thought of losing my son.”

So there it was. Against his better judgment, he took her free hand in his massive one, rubbing the fingers gently. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself.

“How old is Hunt?”

She squeaked as she spoke. “Five years.”

He fought off a smile. “Aye, he’s far too young still. You do not have to worry about sending him to foster for two more years at least.”

The hand came away from her eyes, the wet lavender orbs shimmering with emotion. “Why must I send him away at all? Why can he not stay here, with me, and learn to be a knight? Where is it written in law that he must be sent away?”

She was growing more grieved with each passing word.

For lack of a better action, Tevin put his enormous arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, his cheek on the top of her head.

I would do this for anyone rightfully distressed , he told himself.

But he knew, deep down, that he would not.

He had, in fact, never done it before. Now it seemed as if he was looking for any excuse to pull Lady Penden into his arms.

“There is no law that says a child must be sent away,” he said quietly.

“But the purpose of being sent away to foster is to learn skills and knowledge from those who are not your family. It is a sharing of wealth and knowledge that builds strength of character in men. Wouldn’t you like your son to learn to be a knight from men who have traveled the world doing just that? ”

She sniffled. “I don’t like it. I will not do it.”

He gave her a squeeze before he realized he did it. “Hush, now. There is no use in working yourself up over something that is a few years away. You’ll not lose your son any time soon, I promise.”

Her head came up, gazing at him with those magnificent eyes. “If I do not want to send him away, I do not have to, do I?”

“Nay.”

Only then did she seem to relax. Tevin realized almost too late that she was far too close.

He could feel her breath on his face. With her wet eyes and sweet lips, he felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her.

The very thought startled him, distressed him, causing a violent outburst of contention within him.

The woman was a new widow, grieving over the loss of her beloved husband.

She was not a woman to be trifled with. Much to his dismay, however, she put her head back down, right onto his shoulder.

He swore he felt her nestle against him. It was a damn sweet feeling.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said. “Your words bring me great comfort.”

“It is right that they should,” he said quietly. “I tell you the truth.”

Her reply was to lift her head, put a soft hand on his jaw, and tenderly kiss his cheek. Then she rose and was gone.

Tevin sat there for several long minutes, his heart thumping against his ribs and the spot on his face where she had kissed him blazing with sensation.

As small a gesture as it was, as perfectly innocent, it was the most significant kiss of his life.

He felt it down to his soul. And he knew, at that moment, that he was in a good deal of trouble.

But thoughts of trouble quickly fled when Myles entered the hall, his blue eyes fixing on his liege. He made straight for the table.

“I saw Lady Penden in the solar,” he said to Tevin. “She looks much better today. Have you spoken with her at all?”

Oh… yes, Tevin thought. “I have,” he said evenly. “She does seem much better, though now her distress seems to be with the thought of sending her son to foster.”

Myles brow furrowed. “What?” he sat down opposite Tevin. “What brought that up?”

“A conversation with someone apparently broached the subject,” Tevin replied. “I have spent the past several minutes attempting to convince her that it was far too soon to worry about sending her son away.”

Myles snorted, looking around the table to see if there was any ale or wine available. Seeing none, he summoned a servant. As the man went to do his bidding, Myles turned back to Tevin.

“I believe we may have more trouble on our hands, my lord,” he said. “I have just come from a most distressing exchange with Charles.”

Tevin was glad for the change in subject, even if it was about Charles. “What happened?”

Myles shook his head, with regret. “I fear his madness is gaining,” he said. “He was in the knight’s quarters not a half hour ago asking for a weapon.”

Tevin found he had little tolerance when it came to the madness of Charles Penden. “Before you continue, you should know that he struck Lady Cantia this morning. I was witness to it. I ordered him from the keep, not to return until my anger had cooled.”

Myles stared at him a moment in disbelief.

“He struck her?” he repeated. “My God… Brac would have had his head. His father had always been inordinately jealous of Lady Cantia, mostly because she held Brac’s attention captive.

Charles could never come to terms with the fact that he was not the center of his son’s world, just as Brac was th e center of his.

There are years of contention between Charles and Lady Cantia, all of it Charles’ fault. ”

Tevin’s jaw flexed. “Then it would seem that the Lady Cantia needs to be protected from her father-in-law, for clearly, with Brac gone, he feels no need to hide his hostile feelings for her.”

A steward brought some wine and Myles poured himself a healthy measure. “I will be vigilant, my lord, have no doubt.”

“He does not resent the boy, does he?”

Myles took a large swallow of the tart red liquid. “He adores Hunt. He would never harm him.”

Though it was one less thing to worry over, Tevin was still disturbed that Lady Cantia would need protection from Brac’s insane father. “Back to your statement, then. Why was Charles asking for a weapon?”

Myles cast him a long glance. “He’s not in his right mind, my lord. He says much that he does not mean.”

“Why does he want a weapon?”

Myles sighed heavily, toying with his cup. “I am not sure if he feels the need to protect himself or the need to commit murder. He seems to think that you and Lady Cantia are conspiring to take Rochester from him. He further blames you for Brac’s death.”

Tevin scratched his head, absorbing the information.

“His lunacy grows,” he insisted. “I suspect the man needs to be locked in the vault for his own protection as well as the lady’s.

I do not need the added element of a madman running amuck at Rochester, not when there is much else that requires my attention. ”

“Agreed,” Myles said. “Would you have me corral him, my lord?”

Tevin shook his head. “You should not be the one to arrest your liege. My men will do it.”

Myles downed the last of his wine. He found that his fatigue was catching up with him. “Shall I shadow the lady until Charles can be put away?”

“Nay,” Tevin said. “You have enough to do with the command of Rochester. I shall make sure the lady is well protected until Charles can be caged.”

“Very good, my lord. If there is nothing else, I shall retire for a time.”

Tevin waved him off, mulling over the conversation as Myles quit the hall.

He thought to find Sir Dagan and order the imprisonment of Charles Penden until the man could get himself under control, but as he rose from the bench, Lady Penden passed within his line of sight, emerging from the solar and mounting the steps to the upper floors.

A second later, Hunt and the big yellow dog also emerged and ran after her.

He could hear the dog barks echo in the stairwell.

Now he was thinking on Cantia again. With a sigh of frustration, mostly at himself, he went about his business.

*

Charles Penden, as suspected, did not react well to being imprisoned.

He shouted conspiracy and murder as Dagan and Gavril practically carried him to the gatehouse, dragging him down the narrow steps and incarcerating him in the bottle prison.

The name of the prison was derived from the shape of the cell.

The door was in the ceiling and the room was literally shaped like a bottle; wide at the bottom and narrowed up towards the top.

It was virtually impossible to escape from.

They left Charles screaming at the bottom of it.

They stood over the cell, looking into the hole that showed Charles at the bottom. The man was distraught, incoherently shouting. The two knights shook their heads.

“Crazy man,” Dagan growled.

Gavril nodded in agreement. Shorter and darker than his cousin, he was also the oldest man in the viscount’s service at nearly forty years of age. He had seen much, done much. He did not have much patience for a mad baron.

“We’ve duties on the wall,” he told his cousin. “Come along now. Let’s leave the baron to his hell. ”

When they began to move, Charles started yelling louder. “Wait!” he called. “Wait, I say! Do not leave me here alone!”

Dagan called down to him. “Cease your struggles, baron,” he advised. “A show of sanity may very well see you released.”

Charles was trying to climb up the sides of the prison, only managing a few feet before sliding back down to the floor.

“Release me and you shall be well rewarded,” he clawed into the brick so hard that his fingers came away bloodied.

“Let me out of here and I shall give you all that I have. Let me out!”

Gavril shook his head, jabbing his finger in Dagan’s arm to prompt the man to follow him. But Dagan was finding a weird fascination out of watching Charles struggle.

“This is what I mean, baron,” he said. “You sound like a madman. Calm yourself and the viscount may take pity on you.”

Charles had stopped trying to scale the walls. He sat at the bottom of the pit, gazing up into the only opening that provided both light and air.

“Release me and I shall give you the lady and her dowry,” he offered, though there was defeat in his tone. “She came to my son with a large dowry. Release me and I shall give it, and her, to you. You could live like a king.”

“I’m sure I could,” Dagan said with mock patience. “And whereby would you get the power to do such a thing?”

“She belongs to me now.” Spit flew from Charles’ lips as he spoke. “She and the boy are mine, to do with as I please. Release me and I give her to you.”

Gavril continued to walk away, up the steps that led to the gatehouse.

But Dagan stood there a moment, looking down at the crazed baron and entertaining possibilities that he just as quickly chased away.

A madman’s desperate plea , he told himself.

But he had seen the lady and she was quite lovely.

An interesting thought, but not a realistic one. ’Twas a madman’s desperate plea.

He followed his cousin from the vault.