Page 5 of While Angels Slept (de Lohr Dynasty #1)

Tevin had heard that part earlier in their conversation, hoping that he would not restate it for the lady. It was the madness speaking. He glanced at Cantia to gauge her reaction. As he’d come to expect from the lady, she did not outwardly respond. But her spectacular eyes did, in fact, narrow.

“Would that I could let you,” she growled back at him. “But you have a position to upkeep and a grandson who looks up to you. Do you think it would be easy on Hunt were he to lose his grandfather and father at the same time? Did you stop to think of that, you old fool? ”

A bit ferocious, but Tevin was impressed. The lady wasn’t about to let a madman march all over her. A lesser woman would have simply succumbed, but not Lady Penden. In those few short moments, his respect for her grew.

“Speak not to me of sons, lady,” Charles snapped, “for I have lost mine. You still have yours.”

“But your son was my husband,” she bit back.

“I have lost all that is dear to me in this world. Aye, I still have Hunt and for that I am deeply grateful, but never again will I know the warmth that was my dear Brac. Stop acting as if you are the only person at Rochester who is feeling pain with all of this. Cease this madness and act like an honorable man.”

Charles puffed out his chest as if preparing to come back at her, but he suddenly slumped. It was as if all of the wind had left him. He turned away from Cantia, his tired old gaze moving over the lines of Rochester’s massive keep. His pale face grew even more ashen.

“My son is gone,” he half-whispered, half cried. “I would join him, I swear it.”

Cantia did not know what more to say. She glanced at Tevin, still standing strong and silent several feet away. His piercing eyes, focused on Charles as the old man wandered away, turned to her.

“I fear that my duties have taken me away from being of complete service to you, Lady Penden,” he took a few steps towards her. “I’ve left you alone in all of this and for that, I deeply apologize. Is there anything I can do for you?”

She gazed up at him, her lavender eyes glistening with unshed tears. Tevin could see that the strength she had exhibited against Charles was purely for appearance. Inside, she was dying.

“Aye, my lord, there is,” she said softly. “You can help me bury my husband in a manner befitting his distinction.”

“It would be my honor, my lady. I will see to it personally.”

Her lovely face seemed to relax. Before she could reply, a small boy exited the chapel, his blue eyes blinking at the brightness of the sun. Seeing his mother, he scurried over to her.

“Mama?” he slipped his hand into hers. “I’ve given Da my sword. He isth holding it now. Would you like to see? I think we should bury him with it. He would like that, don’t you think?”

Cantia very nearly lost her fragile control.

Her other hand went to her chest, pressing against it as if to hold in all of the emotion that was threatening to burst out.

As she struggled to form a reply, Tevin could see the turmoil in her face.

He quickly thought to give her time to compose herself.

“Little man,” he addressed Hunt. “What is your name?”

Hunt’s enormous blue eyes focused on him. “Huntington Penden. What isth yours?”

It was a bold question. “Tevin du Reims,” he replied, fighting off a grin.

“Viscount Winterton,” Cantia whispered hoarsely to her son. Tevin could see the tears were still very much on the surface. “Show him all due respect, Hunt. He is your liege.”

Hunt’s expression didn’t change. He continued to size the big man up. “You are a viscount?”

“Aye.”

“But I thought viscounts were mean, gluttonous men?”

Tevin cracked a smile while his mother nearly choked. “Hunt,” she snapped softly. “You will apologize immediately.”

The child had no idea what he had said wrong. “But you said that the nobility of England wasth full of fat, gluttonous old men who live off the life and death of their vassals. Didn’t you…?”

She slapped a hand over Hunt’s mouth and quickly turned him in the direction of the chapel. Tevin watched her nearly pull the child’s arm out of his socket in her haste to remove him.

“My lady?” he called after her. “A word, please.”

Cantia paused. Practically shoving Hunt back inside the chapel, she retraced her steps back to Tevin. When she forced herself to look at him, she swore the black eyes were twinkling .

“We will bury your husband at dusk,” he said quietly. “Since I will take care of all of the arrangements, perhaps you will go and rest until the time comes. Will there be anything else I can do for you?”

She shook her head, perhaps a bit too hard. “Nay, milord, you have already shown us far too much grace and generosity.”

Tevin stood there a moment, gazing at her.

He wanted to talk to her more. He didn’t know why, but he did.

Yet the situation did not warrant it, and he felt a bit caddish for even entertaining the thought.

No matter how lovely the lady was, or how much he respected her character, she was a newly made widow and his thoughts were inappropriate.

Besides… her status as a widow was at his doing.

He silently excused himself from her presence and turned away.

He hadn’t taken three steps when shouts from the kitchen yard off to his left suddenly caught his attention.

The servants were in an uproar. He caught two words: fire and steward.

Before he realized it, he was off and running in that direction with Lady Penden close on his heels.

She had heard the screaming, too.