He was warm and solid and comforting. She could feel him breathing in her embrace. Closing her eyes, she began to pray fervently for the de Titouan family. God help them.
She’d been found.
***
Rod wasn’t quite sure what to make of them. They were Teutonic, that was for certain; they spoke Germanic and he could not understand a word of it. But two of them spoke his language, with a heavy accent, and it was those two he attempted to communicate with.
One man was short, broad, with a bushy mustache and the other was tall and slender with long blond hair. The taller and blonder of the pair was apparently in charge of the entire party, as he had commanded his group to a halt at the sight of Rod, Renard and Rhett standing in the bailey of Whitebrook, prepared for battle. In fact, the man had ordered the horses stopped at the road, dismounted with his stocky counterpart, and the two of them had walked the rest of the way to the manor. Rhett seemed to be willing to listen to them more than Rod was, but it soon became evident they merely wished to parley.
But Rod would not permit them in the manor. He had done as his brother had commanded and had his mother lock down the manor. While he, his uncle and his father scrutinized the incoming party, the strange men did the same of them.
They had tried to start a conversation but their language skills were very poor. At least in the language that Rod could understand. But one word was clear, or at least he thought so; Prinzessin. That word caused Rod to wield his broadsword in front of him in a striking position.
“We have no use for you,” he said, on edge. “Be gone with you.”
The two men were trying not to start a fight but the young knight was most threatening. They kept glancing back to their uncertain group as if looking for assistance. But the men in the group, at least most of them, gazed back with hesitation and some defiance.
“Jetzt machen was wir?” demanded the taller of the two men.
Most of the group lifted shoulders or looked at each other. It was apparent that the dark-haired knight was ready to tear into them. The men conferred with each other before somewhere, in the middle of the band, one of them dismounted.
He was young, perhaps no more than twenty, and he pushed his way through the war horses. He was tall and slender, with blond hair and an angular face. His skin was so pale that it was nearly translucent; he did not look particularly healthy.
Rod watched the young man approach warily. He never lowered his sword, even when the man came within just a few feet of him and quite obviously unarmed. Rod’s blue eyes were riveted to the man, waiting with anticipation, preparing to strike if necessary. But the man put up a hand in what was assumed to be a greeting.
“We mean no harm,” he said in a very heavy accent. “My name is Conrad.”
Rod still maintained his poised position. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I have come for my lady,” he replied. When Rod didn’t move, Conrad lifted his eyebrows in emphasis. “Sich karamelisiert. My betrothed.”
Rod still had his sword up, but now he was joined by Rhett. The old man put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “The lady?” he repeated, evidently attempting to put the pieces together. “What lady?”
The young man fixed him in the eye. “My lady. Her name is Elizabeau.”
“Who is that?”
The young man blinked. “I was told she was here.”
“Who?”
“Elizabeau.”
Rhett shook his head. “I fear we have no one here by that name. Perhaps you have come to the wrong…”
Though the man might have been young, he was apparently used to command. He cut Rhett off firmly. “De Burgh sent me here. She is here.”
Rhett stared at the young man for a long time. “Tell me who you are. And tell me all of it.”
“Conrad Ebhardt von Brunswick, mein lehensherr. I have come for her.”
Rhett was becoming far clearer about the situation than Rod was and he motioned for his nephew to lower his sword.
“Your Grace,” Rhett bowed his head. “We were under the impression that you would meet the lady at Ogmore Castle.”
Conrad nodded. “I was. But my boat was pushed off course and we landed at Portsmouth. When we tried to sail again, we were chased by the king’s men. So we went to London and found de Burgh, and he told us where the lady was. I have been following her trail for weeks.”
Rhett understood a great deal in that heavily-accented explanation. Even Rod was coming to understand; he looked to Rhett, silently asking for direction, and the old uncle put his hand on his nephew’s sword and forced him to lower it completely.
“The king is trying to kill her,” Rhett said quietly. “Were you careful not to be followed?”