But Corisande couldn’t read him at the moment.
Her curiosity grew.
The keep loomed before them, a colossus of stone and iron. There was a forebuilding that protected the steps leading into the entry level and they passed through the massive iron gates that protected the stairs, heading towards the equally massive door at the top. They entered a surprisingly small entry room at the top, one that was secured by one heavy door that led into a larger central foyer. Once they entered the foyer, Anteaus led her into their father’s solar.
The private solar of Alastor de Bourne, Lord Bernicia, was a luxuriously appointed chamber that was quite small given the size of the keep. There were hides on the floor, tapestries on the walls, and the entire room smelled of leather and smoke, and of a rare incense her father liked to burn every so often because it reminded him of his wife. It was a resin he had sent all the way from London, called olibanum, that was harvested in lands as far away as The Levant from a thorny tree that grew in the deserts. Churches burned it regularly and Lady de Bourne had been a pious woman. Hence, Alastor burned it because it reminded him of his wife.
But it made Corisande sneeze.
In fact, that’s what she did the moment she stepped into the solar. A loud, shrill sneeze. Several pairs of eyes turned in her direction, startled, as Alastor came out from behind the table where he had been standing.
He held out his hand to her.
“Ah,” he said, taking her arm gently. “My daughter making an entrance into a chamber as only she is capable. Good men, this is Lady Corisande, whom I have told you of. Cori, please greet our guests.”
Alastor teased her about the sneeze, but Corisande was mortified. Unfortunately, her nose was still itching but she managed to fight it off as her father pulled her towards a group of men. She was blinking her eyes to clear them of the tears that had formed from her sneezing, so she didn’t get a good look at the men until she was nearly standing next to them.
The first thing she realized was that the largest man she had ever seen was positioned directly in front of her.
In fact, she blinked her eyes again, this time because she was startled. Standing in front of the man, at eye level, she was looking at his sternum. Her gaze moved up his body, to his powerful chest and impossibly wide shoulders, to his neck, and finally to his square jaw. He had dark blond hair past his shoulders, and as her gaze moved upward, she could see that he had the crown pulled back and secured behind his head. He had handsome, even features, with arched brows over eyes that could only be called unique.
She’d never seen anything like them.
“Cori, this is Sir Cole de Velt,” her father said, indicating the massive knight. “He is the son of Ajax de Velt of Pelinom Castle, a valued ally.”
Corisande still wasn’t over the sheer size of the man, but she managed to dip into a curtsy. “My lord,” she said. “Welcome to Castle Keld. Had I known you were coming, I would have made sure you were met with refreshments and comfort. I fear I have failed miserably in my duties. Please forgive me.”
The knight was looking at her with those unusual eyes, a golden-brown ringed in a bright green. Coupled with his arched brows, it almost gave him a sinister appearance. As if the Devil himself had come to England and taken human form. Everything about the man seemed to radiate fear and intimidation because of those eyes and, truth be told, Cori was a little intimidated simply looking at him. His gaze was piercing, unnerving.
But he shook his head to her polite statement.
“No apologies are necessary, my lady,” he assured her in a voice that bubbled up from his toes. “We came quite unannounced on business with your father.”
He may have looked like a handsome terror, but the words out of his mouth were polite. And that voice… like molten steel, strong and fluid. Corisande wasn’t sure what to do other than smile timidly at the man when he turned to indicate two knights standing with him.
“These are my men, Sir Addax al-Kort and Sir Essien al-Kort,” he said. “We must impose upon your hospitality for the duration of our visit, but I assure you that we will be no trouble. Anteaus has already told us that we can sleep in the knight’s quarters.”
Corisande looked to the two knights standing with him, noticing immediately that they didn’t look like any pale Englishman she’d ever seen. They were quite handsome, with black hair and dark eyes. She nodded her head at them.
“My lords,” she greeted, her gaze returning to Cole. “You are most welcome at Castle Keld. We do have room in the keep if you wish to stay here.”
Before Cole could reply, Alastor pulled her over to the hearth where a man she had failed to notice was sitting next to the fire, hunched over. He was older, with stringy, gray hair and a grayish cast to his skin.
He didn’t look well.
“See to this man, please,” he told her. “He has not fared well and I need him.”
Corisande’s thoughts moved from the knight with the piercing eyes to the quivering form of humanity in front of her. Concerned, she took a step towards the man and lifted her hand to touch his face to see if he had a fever, but the moment he saw her hand heading in his direction, he lashed out and smacked it away.
“Dunna touch me, Wench,” he hissed. “I’ll no’ have…”
He was cut off when a massive hand suddenly grabbed him by the neck. Startled, Corisande looked up to see Cole as his grip on the man’s neck lifted him straight out of the chair. The man began to kick and gasp, and she instinctively put her hand on Cole’s forearm in an attempt to defuse the situation.
“Please release him,” she said steadily. “I am quite unharmed, truly. He is simply ill and unsteady.”
Cole’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the man, but he did as she asked. He put him back in his chair.
“Strike her again or touch her in any fashion and I will break your arms,” he growled. “Do you understand me, Canmore?”
The man sat there and rubbed his neck, breathing heavily. But he refused to answer and Corisande was a little more assertive about putting herself between the man and that gigantic, and evidently volatile, knight.
She could feel the tension in the air.
“Here, now,” she said gently, reaching out again to touch his face. This time, he didn’t push her away. “No one is going to hurt you. I am here to help you. What is your name?”
He was exhausted and ill, eyeing her with a baleful glare. “Canmore,” he rasped. “’Tis all I’ll tell ye, so dunna ask for more.”
Corisande was fairly accustomed to being around sick people because it was so much of what she did at Castle Keld and the surrounding village. She had a great deal of compassion and a genuine ability to be gentle and kind. It was simply in her nature.
But she also realized that Canmore was here for some unhappy purpose.
She could feel it.
“Canmore,” she said, kneeling in front of the man so that she was looking up at him. “As you have heard, my name is Corisande. I am the chatelaine here at The Keld and part of my duties are to tend to the health and well-being of our visitors. Now, I do not know why you are here, or what your business is with my father, but that is of no matter to me. Clearly, you are ill or injured, and I would like to help you if I can. Will you allow me to?”