Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(57)

“M’lord.” Della took a step toward Brant and held out her hand. The men in the back shushed to better hear her. Resolute, she continued in an even tone, “I am sorry. The words were not meant for you and to prove it, I announce to all that I will lie with you this night and every night after, as you so please, for there is not a man in my eyes greater than you are. You shall have me until you tire of me.”

Brant eyed her in astonishment, unsuccessfully hiding the beginning of a smile behind his fist. The men gaped at each other in wonderment, the Saxon men especially having a hard time believing their ears.

Della dropped her shaking hand when he didn’t take it. She turned amidst the disbelief, feeling so very alone. “I will be in our chamber waiting for you.”

None of the people of Strathfeld had seen their mistress so openly humbled. In stunned epiphany, they all turned eyes of great respect to their overlord. Some even looked at him as if he were immortal.

Della lifted her chin haughtily into the air. Her thin shoulders stiffened bravely in mock confidence. For once, the men had no crude comments to make. There were no words of encouragement for their lord, most even looked away when she met their eyes with her regal calm.

Della made her way with as much dignity as she could muster to the stairwell. When she ducked around the corner, she heard the hall explode with conversation. Her heart pounded. Hurrying abovestairs, she was careful that her footfalls would not be heard. And, as she reached the top of the stairwell, she ran the rest of the way to her bedchamber, sobbing in wretched disbelief.



Brant watched his wife leave, not heeding the commotion below him. It was not lost on him how her words affected the people of Strathfeld. Her public acceptance of him would do much in securing his role as lord. That was if any still had doubts to his claim. He also knew how much of her precious control she’d just relinquished in her open acknowledgment of his authority. Though the men would never have admitted to it, they valued her opinion. In accepting him, she had taken some of the power away from herself and turned it over to him. He knew how hard it had to have been for her. Strathfeld Castle was her entire life.

Suddenly, remembering her heated words, he turned his attention to Lord Lester. He read well the truth on his wife’s face. She would not have been able to humble herself otherwise.

At the ealdorman’s glare, Lester shot up in his chair and backed away from the high table. His complexion was flushed with outrage.

“M’lord, surely you do not take the word of a slanderous woman over an ambassador to the king?” Lester puffed his chest in the air. “I’m certain she only makes those accusations to secure your pardon for her previous behavior. I will not stand for an attack on my character. I demand public satisfaction. She should be flogged.”

“That is not your decision to make.” Brant stood and took a step toward the reprehensible man. A well of satisfaction flowed in him as he stalked his new prey. He lowered his head, anticipating the hunt. A smile tugged his lips.

“Lady Blackwell’s word is not to be questioned,” one of the Saxon knights shouted from below, eliciting a round of agreement from the others.

“Yea,” came another. “You do not question the honor of our countess!”

“What do you think you are doing?” Lord Lester demanded with bravado, eyeing the shouting knights of Strathfeld.

Brant let the measured, cruel smile curve his lips until it shone mercilessly on his hardened face. He took another menacing step.

“I am an ambassador to the king. You would not dare to put a hand on me.” Lester looked about for help. “Vladamir, where are you, man?”

Sir Vladamir shook his head before taking another drink of his mead. His low, accented voice was quiet, as he answered, “Nay, I told you she did not want you. Now you must suffer the consequences. Lord Blackwell has every right to exact punishment.”

Brant reached forward, grabbed Lester by the cuff of his neck and dragged the stumbling, weaker man out into the bailey. The soldiers followed with loud jeers of encouragement. Sir Vladamir stayed quietly in the back, choosing not to interfere. He lifted his hand to stay the king’s knights, keeping them from starting a brawl.

“I demand you let me go,” Lord Lester yelled.

“My pleasure.” Brant threw him to the dirt, stalking him as the man crawled along the ground like an infant. Kicking his backside, he sent Lester skidding across the earth. The onlookers cheered at the attack.

“Vladamir? Where are you man? Help me,” Lord Lester screamed. When he received no help from that corner, he blustered, “I will put in a good word to King Guthrum to any man who would defend me against this injustice.”