Truth be told, Cole wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to walk away.
He could see now that he was going to have to tell Corisande the extent of his service for William Marshal, but not now. There would be time for it later. She was a reasonable woman and he was certain she would understand.
Perhaps she would even be proud of him.
Pride in a husband who served with the most elite knights in England.
Odd how he’d never thought about someone being proud of him for doing his duty, but he very much wanted that approval from Corisande.
It meant everything to him.
“My father is involved in this crisis with the Scots,” he said after a moment, avoiding a heavy explanation until they had the proper time to discuss his service for The Marshal. “I will be as involved in this situation as your own father and brothers, so that means I will be involved with de Lohr and the other warlords who are coming north. I fear I may not see you as often as I wish, but know that I will be thinking of you. You are the queen of my heart, Cori, and I worship every moment with you.”
He gently cupped her face, kissing her on the soft cheek, as she flushed madly with his sweet words. She still hadn’t gotten over the frantic blushing she did when he was kind and complimentary with her.
She never wanted to get over it.
“I understand,” she said. “You are an important man. And I will be thinking of you, too.”
He winked at her and gave her one last kiss. “I yearn for the day when the threat of war is over and we can get on with our lives,” he said. “Normal things, like traveling to Paris so I can purchase my wife some finery. That reminds me – I saw a post for a tournament in Morpeth that is taking place this month. I yearn for the day when you can watch me from the lists as I destroy the competition in a tournament. Everyday things like that have never meant so much to me as they do now.”
She smiled faintly. “I would very much like to see you,” she said. “You must be very good.”
He snorted. “Good?” he said, incredulous. “I am the best you have ever seen. Those whelps Addax and Essien think they are the best because it was their profession for a couple of years, but they’ve never gone up against me. I will show them who is the best on the field. And off.”
Corisande laughed softly. “My brothers think that they are the best,” she said. “They have competed in local tournaments, but it has been a while. I am looking forward to the day when you can unseat them all.”
He scratched his head. “It may take some doing, in truth,” he said. “That lot is rather skilled but, in the end, I shall not fail. Not with my queen’s favor feeding my courage.”
“And you shall always have it.”
He gazed at her warmly, his mind wandering to a year or two or three in the future, when he had her by his side permanently. With Corisande’s support, nothing could stand in his way.
“Thank you,” he said softly. Then, he drew in a heavy breath. “As much as I do not want to leave you, I must go about my business and so must you. But I will see you tonight.”
“You most certainly will.”
He turned for the buttery door, but she remained where she was. He stuck his head out, making sure no one was around to see them, before turning to her one last time.
“We are clear,” he said quietly. “And, Cori?”
“Aye?”
“If you are wondering if I love you, wonder no more. It is safe to say that I do.”
With that, he was through the door, heading out into the kitchen yard, as Corisande stood there with her mouth open and her eyes wide. But her shock was momentary; it was followed by a smile so bright that tears came to her eyes.
It was safe to say that she loved him, too.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cole found Alastor in his solar.
That dusty, cold room that still smelled of seared human flesh. He was burning something in a pewter bowl, incense to cover up the fact that a man had burned to death in that chamber and the stench still hadn’t left. The incense was an earthy scent, something he could smell far back in his nose, like cold dirt. It almost smelled like a grave. He stood at the door, seeing Alastor as the man sat with his back to him, gazing out over the bailey in a rare quiet moment.
Quietly, he rapped on the panel.
“Who is it?” Alastor asked without turning around.
“Cole, my lord,” Cole replied. “May I enter?”
Alastor turned his chair around, facing him. “How may I be of service, Cole?”
He sounded weary and Cole thought that it was a rather direct question, one that he didn’t want to answer right away. He thought that he might need to gently ease Alastor into the true purpose for his visit, so he started out with something unrelated to his real reason. As he’d told Corisande, he wasn’t a liar by nature, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t dance around the subject a little.
Besides… he had to build up his courage.
“I was curious if you’ve heard from my father,” he said. “Addax and Essien have been in Berwick for at least a month. We have no word?”
Alastor shook his head. “None,” he said. “It takes time to produce results sometimes, but I do not have to tell you that. You know it all too well.”
Cole nodded. “That is true,” he said. When the conversation threatened to die, he pointed to the smoking bowl. “What is that? I have smelled it before, I think.”
Alastor’s attention moved to the bowl and its ribbons of blue smoke. “It is called olibanum,” he said. “It is harvested in lands as far away as The Levant from a thorny tree that grows in the deserts. My wife loved the smell and it reminds me of her, so I burn it.”
Cole understood. “I see,” he said. “It must be precious and rare.”
“It is. Like my wife – precious and rare.”
He said it like a prayer, reverent and wistful. Cole thought it might be a good time to lead into the real reason for his visit.
“What was her name?” he asked.
Alastor fanned the smoke a little, inhaling it when it blew in his direction. “Thalassa,” he said. “Thalassa de Ryes. Very old family, south in Hampshire. It has been a few years since I last saw my wife and this resin reminds me so much of her. My children hate it, but I do not care. I suppose we all have our own ways of remembering. But I digress; forgive me. Is there anything else you need from me, Cole?”
Cole didn’t give him a straight answer. “It is true we all have our own ways of remembering,” he said, sticking to the subject of dead wives. “Whenever I see a thistle, I remember my wife. She loved them.”
Alastor’s brow furrowed. “You were married?” he said, surprised. “I did not know that, Cole. When were you married?”
Cole smiled weakly. “Years ago,” he said. “I was very young, newly knighted. Her name was Mary and she was from a fine family also. As my father’s heir, my parents were most anxious to find me a good wife. Truthfully, I’m not sure I had a choice. They chose her for me.”
Alastor was warming to something they had in common. “As did mine,” he said. “As the descendent of the Bloodaxe, I had no choice in the matter. What was an arranged marriage turned out to be a love match, however. I was fortunate. Yours was not a love match?”