Reckless (Age of Conquest #5) - Tamara Leigh Page 0,106
“I wish to give you hope, but not so much you suffer if I am wrong.”
“Pray, speak, Brother. And I will tell what I wish to do if all appears lost.”
It had been mostly quiet in the chamber, now suddenly so.
“Nicola!” her brothers rebuked at once.
Releasing the brooch whose presence comforted in the absence of its owner, she held up that hand. “What I wish to do, not what I will do. If it is done, it will be with your blessing.” She moved her gaze from one to the next. “I will make no lie of that. Now tell what you believe the king is thinking.”
Guarin told her, and it bred dangerous hope. But not so dangerous were he wrong and her solution proved right. If they would give her their blessing. And what chance that?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The prince on the landing above averted his eyes. Doubtless, over shame for lacking the courage to do what Vitalis had challenged him to do, and fear of the possibility it would be done for him—that to save himself, this rebel would reveal to William who possessed the cloth and provide an explanation of how it came to be.
Though the youth’s struggle with courage disappointed, it did not anger. Courage was not gained in days, weeks, even months. It required years of trials, often more lost than won, ever the seeker going back to that bottomless well no matter the outcome. Hopefully, what De Warenne did not provide William’s son, another would before Richard was lost to the vices of great privilege.
Unfettered except for wrists roped before him, Vitalis ascended behind Maël and ahead of two knights more formidable than the guards who had watched over him in the cellar. Swords drawn, the warriors were not for keeping a prisoner quiet, fed, and provoked. They were for killing any who sought to harm or offend the one they served.
Though Maël’s only acknowledgement of the prince was a nod, one of the knights under his command called, “I am certain the king does not wish you here, young Richard.”
That raised the prince’s eyes and a chin that, elevated as he was, caused him to peer well down upon the offender. “It is Prince Richard you address, Chevalier.”
Not the kind of courage needed to become a man, Vitalis reflected. Not courage at all since it was earned by his sire. But as if realizing that, Richard swept his gaze to Vitalis, lowered his chin, and rather than make his lessers sidestep, did so himself as Maël ascended the last steps.
Nearing the prince, Vitalis gave a slight shake of the head lest the young man question what might be revealed to his sire. It was for Richard to tell, and only if he still possessed the cloth for which he might have to answer were it found on his person.
As Vitalis passed him, he saw at the far end of the corridor another who should not be here—who should have been sent away. Would Nicola’s menfolk have done so had Vitalis not grudgingly acknowledged feelings for her when this morn Maël persisted in learning if any of what she felt for this Saxon was returned?
Lord, I should not have yielded, he silently rued.
Blessedly, Guarin stood on one side of her and Dougray the other, surely lest she render this more difficult for all. But it seemed something else held Nicola in place. Though he felt her fear, there was no lean nor tension about her as if exercising great restraint at which she was about to fail. Was it possible that were the reckless one alone, she could control herself, merely watching as he entered the solar and went from sight?
Maël having halted before the first door on the left alongside which another chevalier stood, Vitalis sought to free himself of the woman he must think upon only to shield her, if necessary, from what awaited him in the solar—a solar that, unlike most, was not situated on the ground floor behind a curtain.
Despite greater vulnerability abovestairs, and it being harder to keep watch over the comings and goings of castle folk, it would offer more privacy and comfort. A good fit for one foolishly confident of his power in this turbulent time. A good fit for De Warenne whose fostering of the prince did not prepare William’s son for life beyond his sire’s enormous shadow.
The chevalier outside the solar acknowledged the captain of the king’s guard by respectfully titling him, then opened the door.