Her words were kind and reassuring, throwing Alpin off guard in the slightest. He kept eyeing her, as if unsure what to say, and then his gaze would move over her head, clearly looking at the men standing behind her.
He was as nervous as a cat.
“I… I’m just weary,” he finally said. “Nothing is wrong with me that a meal and drink willna cure. I’m no’ sick.”
Corisande wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she didn’t dispute him. She rose from her knees. “Then I shall make sure food is brought to you,” she said. She turned around to look at the rest of the visitors. “In fact, I shall make sure a meal is prepared for all of you. Would you like to rest before you continue your business with my father? Surely it can wait a few hours.”
Her father opened his mouth to reply, but the door to the solar slammed back on its hinges and Corisande’s two older brothers appeared.
Ares and Atlas de Bourne were men of remarkable courage, talent, and command ability, but they were also bold, aggressive, and lacked sheer human empathy at times. They were quite involved in the politics of the north because Ares was the Sheriff of Westmorland and Atlas assisted him in his duties, leaving Anteaus and their father to command the vast empire of The Keld. The sheriff appointment, in fact, had been from the king because Ares had been heroic in a battle against the Scots a few years earlier. Having proven himself, the king gave him the title and responsibility of keeping law in the north.
But that meant Ares had a sharper temperament than most, dealing with the worst society had to offer sometimes, but he also had a reputation for fairness. No one had ever said Ares de Bourne was unfair or corrupt. His sense of justice and morality were always intact.
But so was his hatred for the Scots. As he stormed into the solar, his attention went immediately to the man in the chair.
“Is that him?” he demanded, pointing to the Scotsman.
Having left his daughter, Alastor put himself between his enraged son and the Scots prisoner. “It is,” he said evenly. “If you wish to remain while we speak to him, then you may do so. But you will let me do the talking, Ares. Do you understand?”
Ares tore his gaze away from the Scotsman long enough to glare at his father. “He is the one threatening us with a Scots vendetta and I am not allowed to question him?”
Alastor shook his head. “I will do the speaking,” he repeated. “Will you respect my wishes?”
Ares rolled his eyes and turned away, pulling off his helm and ripping off his gloves as Atlas followed suit. He may have been unhappy, but he did as his father asked. He kept his mouth shut. As he and Atlas began putting their things on a table near the door, Alastor returned to his daughter.
“You are no longer required,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”
Corisande had been watching everything very closely. There was something strange going on – three big, unfamiliar knights had brought a beaten Scotsman to The Keld, a man who had her older brothers furious for some reason. Anteaus was the calm one of the bunch and even he didn’t look too pleased.
That had Corisande concerned.
“Papa?” she said as he took her by the arm. “Mayhap I should remain. He does not look well at all.”
Her gaze moved to the Scotsman and Alastor’s focus followed. He looked at the man for a moment before shaking his head and firmly directing her towards the door.
“If I need you, I will send for you,” he said.
“I shall bring food.”
“No food. Not now.”
“But…”
He cut her off as he ushered her out of the door. “No food, but please stay near,” he said. “If I summon you, then I do not want to have to send the servants out to hunt you down. Understood?”
Corisande stood just outside the door, looking at her father and feeling some fear. She didn’t know why, but she did. The man seemed… edgy.
He wasn’t the edgy type.
“As you wish,” she said.
Corisande’s last glimpse into the chamber before her father shut the door was of Cole de Velt, standing over the Scotsman slumped on the chair. For a brief moment, their eyes met and Corisande felt a rush go through her. Something about those unusual eyes made her feel a chill, or quite possibly a thrill.
She wasn’t sure which.
All she knew was that when the man looked at her, she could physically feel it.
And then the door shut in her face.
Puzzled, and the least bit concerned, Corisande lingered by the door for a moment before turning away. In spite of what her father said, she intended to go to the kitchens and make sure a meal was prepared for their visitors. Perhaps a bit of sustenance would put everyone in a better humor.
Or perhaps that grim gathering in the solar was a harbinger of things to come.
CHAPTER FOUR
She was beautiful.
Quite beautiful.
Cole had seen a lot of women in his time. He’d even married a few years ago to a d’Umfraville daughter, whose family was an ally of the House of de Velt. Mary had been her name, a lovely girl with soft, red hair and a bright smile. She’d been a little meek, very obedient, and Cole had been happy with her. They’d even had a daughter, Lucy, who had looked a good deal like Cole’s mother. But a fever had taken them both, within two days of one another, and shortly thereafter Cole was given the directive by William Marshal to spy on the Scottish court.
Cole was certain he’d been given that directive to distract him from his grief.
But that hadn’t worked too well. It had taken time for him to recover, throwing himself into his work, ignoring the pain until it became a dull ache. Then, on a visit home, he’d met Lady Audrie de Longley, daughter of the Earl of Teviot. She was petite and pretty, with golden-red hair and a charming manner, and he’d shown enough interest in her to help him move on after Mary’s death. He hadn’t asked for Audrie’s hand yet, but both families assumed that would come at some point. Even Cole assumed he would do it at some point, but he wasn’t in any hurry.
He wasn’t in any hurry to take on another wife and open himself up to more heartbreak.
Now, he’d just met a woman whose green eyes seemed to throw lightning bolts at him. Every time their gazes met, he felt a jolt. Lady Corisande de Bourne was a serene, elegant beauty with lips like a rosebud and blonde hair that tumbled in voluminous curls down her back. She was seemingly kind and well spoken, a gracious and well-trained young woman that made her family proud. Not that he hadn’t met plenty of women like that, but he’d never had such a reaction to them.
It was most curious.
And perhaps even quite intriguing.
But he couldn’t focus on that now.
“My lord,” he said, lowering his voice as he took Alastor by the arm and led him over into a corner for privacy. “I know we’ve only arrived, and I have not yet had the chance to tell you anything in-depth about my father’s discussion with Canmore, but that is by design.”
Alastor looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I want to see what Alpin Canmore tells you before I fill you in on what he told my father,” he said. “I want to do it now while he’s weary from travel because his exhaustion will make him more vulnerable. May I make a suggestion to you?”