WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,65
just made my day a little brighter.”
She looked at him again. “Have I?”
“My hall has never been graced with a more beautiful woman.”
She blinked, surprised. “That is a kind thing to say.
“It is the truth.”
He smiled at her, a warm glimmer in his eyes, as they reached the entry to the hall. Since their arrival had only been announced within the hour, servants were scrambling to light the hearth and bring food and drink to the table. Lenore was there, but not Barbara, as Tor took Isalyn and her father to the dais, making sure they had the most comfortable chairs.
“Please, sit,” he told them. “You must have left Featherstone early. Surely you did not have the opportunity to break your fast yet.”
Isalyn shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “We left before dawn.”
Tor emitted a piercing whistle between his teeth and Lenore, at the end of the dais, came running.
“Aye, Tor?”
The warmth in Tor’s eyes faded as he looked at the woman, but he was polite when he introduced her.
“This is Lenore,” he said to Isalyn and Gilbert. “She is a de Wolfe ward. If you need anything, she will be honored to be of service. Lenore, this is Lord de Featherstone and his daughter, Lady Isalyn. Make sure they have chambers prepared immediately in the apartments. They will want to rest after their morning’s journey.”
Isalyn nodded politely at the flame-haired young woman. But the moment their eyes met, she sensed something more than curiosity.
She sensed scrutiny.
But Lenore lowered her gaze before Isalyn could figure out what, exactly, the woman was thinking. She dipped her head in greeting, as it was the polite and expected thing to do.
“Welcome to Blackpool, my lord and my lady,” Lenore said. “My sister is already seeing to your accommodations. I apologize they are not yet ready for you. We did not know you were coming.”
Her last sentence sounded like… an excuse? A rebuke? Tor interrupted her before anything more could be said.
“See to their food,” he said, decidedly colder. “And hurry about it.”
Lenore scurried off, heading towards the servant’s entrance to the hall. Gilbert was in the process of settling down when he suddenly stood up again.
“The garderobe, if you please,” he said. “I’d better before I sit down. It has been a long ride.”
Tor whistled for another servant, who escorted Gilbert from the hall to show him to the garderobe built into the wall turret to the east of the hall. As Gilbert vacated the hall, Tor turned to Isalyn, sitting at the big, scrubbed table.
Finally, they were alone.
“Well,” he said, smiling. “It seems as if I have you all to myself, at least until your father returns. How was your journey?”
Isalyn couldn’t adequately describe how she felt when she looked at Tor. As she knew, something had changed yesterday when he’d charged in to save her from the soldiers, something that made her feel giddy and warm in his presence.
“It was quite pleasant, thank you,” she said. Then, she lowered her voice. “Before my father returns, you should know that he does not know about the fight in Haltwhistle. Fraser has not told him and I certainly have not, so…”
His grin broadened. “So you do not want me to mention it.”
“I would appreciate it.”
“Your secret is safe.”
Isalyn smiled in return, flushing simply from the way he was looking at her. “If I did not thank you adequately for your assistance, allow me to do so,” she said. “That is twice you have come to my aid. I really do wish you would have let me gift you with the dog’s head dagger. I very much wanted to.”
He shook his head, sitting opposite her just so he could look at her unimpeded. “I told you that it was not necessary,” he said. “It was my honor to help you.”
“You are gracious,” she said. “I feel as if I have been nothing but trouble since we have met.”
He snorted softly. “You have certainly kept me alert,” he said. “But please do me a favor.”
“What is it?”
“Do not leave Blackpool unescorted,” he said. “Please. As a personal favor to me. I want to be able to sleep tonight and I will not be able to unless you promise me.”
Isalyn shrugged. “Where would I go? Back to Haltwhistle?”
“That was not a promise.”
“Then I promise,” she said, watching his smile return. “But if your food is lacking, I shall run all the way back to the Crown and Sword. I am very hungry.”