Isalyn turned to him, her eyes big. “You… you are going home?”
Tor nodded. “I must,” he said, thinking that she looked as if she didn’t want him to go. Something in her eyes made his heart race, just a little. “We are very close to my home, about twenty miles to the north.”
“Then… then you want to go home?”
He shrugged. “It is time,” he said. “I have been away the better part of three weeks chasing your brother around, so it is time.”
“Of course,” she said, deflating a little with disappointment. But after a moment, she forced a smile. “Of course you want to return home. I suppose I was hoping you would sup with us again this evening.”
He smiled faintly. “I would love to, but there are things at home that require my attention,” he said. “But now that we know one another and are friends, I should like to invite you and your father to sup with me at Blackpool. Le Kerque, too, if he can behave himself.”
While Fraser rolled his eyes and tried not to grin, Isalyn took the invitation very seriously. “Truly?” she said. “After all of the trouble we have caused you, you would still invite us to sup?”
“Absolutely.”
“But… but I was planning on returning to London shortly.”
“Then we must make it soon,” Tor said. “You will come before you go, will you not?”
Isalyn found herself wishing that Fraser would go away. But he was standing there, listening to everything that was said, and Isalyn wanted this conversation to be just between her and Tor. She didn’t want to sound like a fool in front of Fraser, or even in front of Tor, but she was quite intrigued by the invitation to visit. She wanted to go very badly. It was a struggle not to sound like she was too eager.
“If you wish,” she said. “As I said, I was planning on returning very soon. Mayhap even next week.”
“Then you must come in the next few days. Tell your father that I insist.”
Something about the way he said it left no room for debate. Isalyn realized that her heart was pounding against her ribs again but, this time, it wasn’t because she was afraid.
It was because of the way Tor was looking at her.
Would she come in the next few days?
She was going to come as fast as she could.
“I will,” she said. “Thank you for your kindness. My father and I would be honored to sup with you.”
“Fraser, too?”
She passed a glance at the knight. “Fraser, too.”
The corners of Tor’s eyes crinkled, a smile playing on his lips. “Good,” he said. “I shall expect you shortly.”
Isalyn simply nodded, trying not to look as if this invitation of all invitations she had ever had pleased her beyond reason. She pretended it was nothing to get excited over even though her palms were sweating and she felt very much like smiling. She’d never felt so giddy. Instead, she tried to play it off as if it were nothing of importance.
“Twenty miles to the north, you said?” she said.
He nodded, pointing to a road that broke off from the main avenue and headed north. “Follow that road,” he said. “It will twist and turn a little, but stay on it and follow it to the end. You will see Blackpool Castle.”
Isalyn dipped her head graciously. “I am looking forward to it,” she said. “And thank you again for… for everything, my lord. You have gone above and beyond with regards to my safety and I am grateful.”
Tor dipped his head in response, his eyes glimmering at her for a moment longer before mounting his horse. That hairy, stocky, muscular beast that he loved like a brother. With a nod at Fraser, Tor directed Enbarr towards the road north. Isalyn watched him until he disappeared from sight.
“My lady?” Fraser said. “Lady Isalyn?”
He was trying to get her attention and Isalyn realized that he’d caught her staring at Tor. Slightly embarrassed, she turned to him to see that he was already mounted on his horse. He held out a hand to her to help her mount behind him, but she shook her head.
“My palfrey is at the livery,” she said. “I will fetch her.”
She did, quickly, with Fraser trailing behind her, but all the while, she was thinking of the next time she saw Tor.
She picked up the pace.
It was going to be sooner than he realized.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He could see it in the distance.
The approach to Blackpool Castle, as he had told Isalyn, was literally at the end of a road. It could be seen for miles because the topography in this area wasn’t as hilly as it was in some parts of Northumberland. It was flat moors with an occasional rise now and then. Therefore, there was a wide field of vision and the great bastion of Blackpool Castle was easily seen.
That did not mean that it was vulnerable however. Quite the contrary. Castles along the Scottish Marches all tended to be built the same way – heavily fortified, with massively thick stone walls, stubby and compact, as if they were burrowing down into the earth to gain a foothold against the Scots.
Carlisle Castle was a perfect example of a fortress looking as if it were hunkering down, preparing to take an onslaught. But then there were castles like Northwood and Questing and Berwick, that were massive places, soaring above the land with four and five-storied keeps, or in the case of Questing, sitting atop a big hill. Breaching it was impossible because an attacking army had to mountain climb in order to get to it, and once they reached it, the walls were twenty feet high.
It was a great deterrent against attack.
Blackpool was much in the same vein as the rest of these Marcher castles. It wasn’t sitting atop a big hill and it didn’t have a soaring keep, but it was built from the beige sandstone that was so common to the area, reinforced by gray granite. It had an enormous curtain wall that was eighteen feet high, being twenty feet thick in some places. Having been built by William Rufus, it also used an ancient man-made structure to its advantage: the wall across the northern part of England built by the ancient Romans.
At this section of the old wall, it was still several feet tall and had what they called a gatehouse, or a mile house, built into it. It was essentially a fortified gatehouse. When William Rufus had built Blackpool, he’d used this ancient wall to protect his fortress by adding on to it and making it encircle his new garrison. Therefore, an army had to pass through the ancient Roman gatehouse before it could even arrive at the fortress itself. All of that protection was exactly why Scott de Wolfe had purchased the property.
It was a sight to behold.
And it belonged to Tor for the most part even though, technically, it belonged to the Earl of Warenton. Scott had given it over to his second son to command and Tor had taken to it immediately. He had reinforced the fortress by having his army dig a moat around the eighteen-foot walls, something that had to be carefully engineered so the walls wouldn’t collapse, but Tor was brilliant that way. His army had dug out the moat in a little under six months and the massive walls were as steady as they ever were. The moat was fed by a small river called the Black River, hence the name of the fortress.
Blackpool Castle had become one of the more formidable castles in Northumberland.
Tor derived great satisfaction from the sight as he and Enbarr trotted down the road, drawing closer to the outer ancient wall. Already, he could see movement in the outer gatehouse and as he rode up to the thick, squat gatehouse, his men were more than happy to open the heavy iron gates. He passed through, greeting his men, as he continued on to the second, and main, gatehouse.