Just as Fran struggle a sitting position in her large bed, the covers thoughtlessly bunched at her waist, her long red hair in a wildly disheveled mess about her shoulders, her bedroom door was thrust open in a powerful motion. As she squinted against the light, she saw an incredibly tall man, quite broad-shouldered, silhouetted against the light behind him. His form effectively blocked anyone else from seeing into her room, and certainly no one was entering the room by getting by him. But from behind him, she could hear the frantic high-pitched voice of her old nursemaid from her infancy and childhood, who now served, when her arthritis and nerves permitted, as her lady’s maid.
“You fiend!” the old lady shouted. Fran could hear the old women hands slapping at the man’s broad back. In her mind’s eye, she could the tiny, frail, but very feisty old woman trying to move this mountain out of her way. He could have swatted at her like an insignificant insect, and easily have knocked her frail body to the stone floor. Her words alone were incendiary enough to inflame most men, as several more colorful names, and one very derogatory remark regarding his mother, passed her angry lips.
But he didn’t. He didn’t move a muscle as he stood there gazing at the red-haired woman, half-naked in the unmade bed. He knew that in moving, he might make her aware more quickly, and he knew her reactions were still delayed and dulled by sleep. It seemed a long time that he stared at her in silence, his light brown eyes devouring her naked splendor. But in reality, it was but a few scant moments in time before the lady gathered her senses about her, and the sheets, and shielded herself from his eyes. It was a nervous, jerking movement that had her pulling the covers all the way up to her chin. In the darkened room, she could not see the grin that curled his hard mouth beneath his brownish-red mustache. Which was good, because she would not like knowing that she afforded him any amusement. He straightened to his full, imposing height and spoke brusquely, commanding her to obey his demands.
“Madam, present yourself in ten minutes in the main hall of the castle.” He turned to leave, then glanced back at the startled woman. “And if you are not there, on the eleventh minute I will be back up here and drag you down, no matter how you are dressed, or not.” And with that, Fran found herself alone in her bedroom once again, except for her old lady’s maid, who managed to scoot past him and get in just before the door closed. The poor thing immediately began wringing her hands together.
“Oh, my lady, whatever are we to do?” Fran watched the poor old woman fretting, and pacing, and wringing her hands in despair. “We will all be raped and murdered in our beds!”
Fran hid her smile, doubting that the ‘fate worse than death’ would actually befall her elderly maidservant. “Now, now, Mary, I’m sure everything will be fine.” She tried to put conviction into her voice. “I’ll settle this misunderstanding, and all will be well again.” But to her own ears, her words fell flat and definitely lacked conviction. She knew in her heart that solving this situation was not going to be easy, if it could even be solved at all.
Precisely nine minutes later, the tall soldier seated at the dining table looked up and saw Lady Frances crossing the room towards him. He stood as she neared the table. He let his golden-brown eyes leisurely travel over the small-stuttered woman who stood proudly before him. Her long red hair had been barely tamed by a green ribbon that confined it at the nape of her slender neck. Her shift was of the softest material for it molded closely to her breasts and showed their fullness and peaked nipples. Her gown ended several inches above her ankles, which would have been totally unacceptable at the king’s castle, but in the country, he knew social rules were much more relaxed and casual.
That was certainly one thing he would not miss – the pomp and ceremony that surrounded their majesties, and all the courtly events. The only times that were not filled with protocol and fancy dress and exquisite manners, were the most private times with their majesties. For a man who enjoyed the outdoors, and all the camping required of a soldier, he was glad to be free of the townish ways and fake “mannerisms” one found there. And then he burst out in laughter. The woman, the “lady” of the castle had presented herself to her future liege lord ‘barefoot.’ He could just imagine what the ladies of the court would make of that tidbit should it ever reach the court that his majesty’s personal envoy had been greeted in a “shoeless” state. He had been forewarned, he reminded himself, before he ever left for this “god-forsaken” corner of the king’s realm. As he choked back his laughter, he recalled that quite a few people, not just the king, had had more than a few talkes to tell him of this strange land. But he remembered some manners and managed to incline his head in greeting. “Please be seated, madam. I compliment you on the excellent table you set, even under such, unusual circumstances.” He motioned her to the empty chair opposite his own at the end of the long table.
In the split instant before she turned away from him, he understood fully the words ‘if looks could kill!’ He watched as she walked away from her, enjoying fully the gentle sway of her full, womanly hips as she moved to her seat. He noted as he sat that one of her “father’s men” as they had presented themselves to him, rushed from his chair, 5 seats away from the lady’s seat, to hold his lady’s chair as she seated herself. His gaze narrowed though, as he watched her thank the man, who was at least forty-five years old he guessed. His hand clenched around his cup of wine as he saw her smile at the man and lightly touched his arm in gratitude of his small kindness. Her voice was soft spoken as she urged the men to please continue eating. His officers eagerly complied, enjoying the very well cooked and tasty food. Fran looked up, her green eyes meeting his golden ones.
“I’m afraid you have us at a distinct disadvantage sir. Obviously you know who we are, but we do not know who you are.” She paused a moment, her eyes becoming quite cold and her jaw clenching. “Nor why you have so rudely and coarsely invaded my home.”
To say you could have heard a pin drop onto the stone floor would have been an understatement at that precise moment. His captain, and long-time friend, Sir Ranald, had half-risen and was actually beginning to draw forth his sword.
The man who helped seat Lady Frances, and had then proceeded to move aside her serving lad, and pour her wine himself, rushed forward. “I’m sure my lady means…”
“Stop!” His calm voice stayed Sir Ranald and silenced the gray-haired man he was rapidly coming to think of as “sir toady” for obvious reasons. “I beg your pardon madam,” he continued, inclining his head slightly towards her. “But I know for a fact that the king’s messenger was dispatched with the king’s instructions detailed out. And that messenger left over a month ago.” He paused a moment to take a sip of his wine, while giving her a moment to deny his words. “And my men and I have proven to ourselves that it takes less than 5 days of easy travel to reach your land.”
“Sir,” she finally said from behind a decidedly clenched jaw. “When that messenger finally got here, the king’s missive was in a nearly unreadable state. All we could decipher was that the king was sending someone!”
‘Sir Toady’ was nodding his head eagerly. “Yes, your lordship, it was an awful mess. The messenger had gotten sick- actually right on the king’s papers, several times in fact. It was a truly disgusting mess. I begged my dear lady Fran not to even touch it, but she felt she must.”
Having heard more than he could have ever wanted from this ingratiating sycophant, he held up his hand, saying “Enough!” He turned from the older man. His golden-brown eyes settled on the pale-skinned woman at the opposite end of the table. He inclined his head towards her yet again. “My apologies then, madam. Obviously, we were unexpected. I am Bradwyn, envoy of our king. I am here to assess the stability of this holding.” He paused, knowing that if these words had been spoken to him, of his lands, he would be livid with anger. But then, this was a woman…
He watched her face, which seemed almost emotionless except for her green eyes, which were flashing bolts of lightening straight at him. Her voice was calm though as she nodded.
“I see, Lord Bradwyn.” Frances paused as she considered the wisest course here. To anger this emissary of the king would accomplish nothing, except give her a modicum of satisfaction. “And have you formed an opinion yet, milord?” she finally asked in a controlled voice. She then gestured Sir Elwin, her protector, away from hovering at her elbow. She just didn’t have the patience to deal with his ‘toadying’ at the moment.
Bradwyn watched the interplay between the lady and her ‘persistent suitor.’ The more he watched, he was sure that ‘sir toady’ had plans for the Lady Frances’ future. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps the king had been wrong and there was a suitor for the lady’s hand. But he could also easily see that this man would never be able to hold a land this rich, and desirable, from outsiders. But Bradwyn was a good soldier, besides being a wise tactician, and he knew better than to show all of his plans this early, before he had the full measure of his enemy.
“I will need to check the castle in the light of day to better gain an understanding of the castle’s weaknesses.” He paused to observe the tensing of her facial muscles and the subtle straightening of her backbone. “And my officers will test your defenses and how well your house guard responds.”
It wasn’t often Bradwyn was surprised, but this woman amazed him yet again when she stood abruptly. “Sir, I feel sure that you are laughing at us. By now you have seen the house guard, what is left of it, are all quite old and probably you would have pensioned them all off long ago, but they all do the best they can. And as far as defenses go, well, all of my father’s knights are all happily tending to their own farms and holdings, and caring for their families.” She stepped away from the table, walking towards him. He couldn’t help but notice the enticing jiggling of her full, unbound breasts, nor the rhythmic sway of her rounded hips beneath the soft green material of her gown. Something about this woman was arousing feelings in him that he rarely acknowledged, let alone indulged.
Oh, he certainly enjoyed a good ‘roll in the hay’ with a comely wench or barmaid who was willing. And many titled ladies at the king’s palace had made themselves more than available to him over the years, in between travels, and defending the king’s lands. But these feelings were different, they were deeper and he didn’t want them, now.
The small woman stood near his chair at the table’s edge now. He could see her fists were clenched; though she tried to conceal them in the folds of her skirt. She was angry, and scared, and fighting some strange desire to be close to this man.
“Sir, perhaps we should finish our discussion privately. Then you can acquaint me more with what the king’s wishes are since his message was indecipherable to us. We can go to my father’s den…”
Sir Elwin protested, running, as fast as his thin legs would allow, around the table and grabbed her arm. “No, my lady! You mustn’t… I’m sure we should discuss such matters here…”
Fran turned and patted his hand, speaking softly to him. “It will be fine, Sir Elwin, don’t fret so.” She turned back to Bradwyn. “Milord, if you please…?” and she gestured for him to accompany her from the hall.
He followed her from the hall to a small room off to the side and down another hallway for a short distance. And no matter how he tried to avoid it, prevent it, he kept glancing sideways and down to watch her full breasts, bouncing gently with each step beneath her gown. The room was dimly lit by 2 candelabras placed at opposite ends of her father’s huge desk. She motioned for him to be seated in one of the comfortable chairs that faced the desk. He was sure her plan was to seat herself at the desk to assert her position of power, so he remained standing. She looked a bit surprised but only shrugged her shoulders. She wandered over to the window that looked over the sea below.
“You might as well tell me the whole of it, Lord Bradwyn. If you are planning to try and take this holding from these people though, be fair warned, I’ll find some way to fight you.” Her green eyes blazed with fire when she shot a quick glance at him. “Most of these people have lived here their whole lives, they would have no where else to go. My great-grandfather’s men, his soldiers, all settled here and raised families. They have been here for 3 generations some of them.” When she finished though, she seemed to deflate a bit, as if that had taken more out of her than she had thought. She knew though, in her heart, if the king wanted this land for another knight, then there was little she could truly do, except beg that he allow the people who had been born and raised here, be allowed to keep their homes. She had to find some way…
Silence followed her words. He noticed that she had not said, “take this land away from me” but was obviously more concerned for her people. He pondered the advice he had received in how to deal with the situation he was now facing. The king had advised caution, and use his well-honed battle skills to conquer her and her people, but in a non-combative way. Sir Ranald had said he should just march right in and tell her- this is how it is by order of the king and therefore this is how it was going to be from now on, and that would be the end of the discussion. Whereas the king’s younger brother, who fancied himself quite a lady’s man, had recommended seducing her, and then the whole matter would be sealed, and he would end up a very wealthy man. But it was the queen who had taken him aside the night before he left. She told him to be cautious and not treat the matter or the lady lightly. While Queen Marguerite had never met Lady Frances herself, she advised him that this woman was probably much smarter and cleverer than anyone had ever given her credit for. The queen then smiled and said, after all any woman who had manage to elude matrimony for as long as this lady had, had to much smarter than any of the men she had met so far. And with that cryptic remark, the queen had left to decipher her remarks.
Bradwyn knew that the queen had been right. There were depths here that could drown him, if he were not his usual cautious self. “Lady Frances, the king has no desire to rob you of your home, nor your people of theirs.” He seated himself, then leaned forward, his clasped hands resting between his thighs. “But he also feels sure that it won’t be long before trouble arises.”
Fran walked around the front of the desk. “Because I am a woman, correct?” she asked quietly after several moments of silence. Bradwyn nodded briefly, knowing that she would recognize any denials as falsehoods, and any delay tactics would be useless. He leaned back in the chair as she moved to stand in front of his chair, crossing her arms beneath her full breasts, and propping herself against the desk. She smiled knowingly.
“Yes, I have noticed a marked increase in the number of ‘so-called’ casual visitors of late. All of whom have had unmarried sons, or unmarried themselves, or a widower… I am not stupid, my lord.”
