The White Lord of Wellesbourne Read Free Page B

thought,
fear. “I sent two men to look after her, my lord,” he said. “She was not
without protection. I have known the lady her entire life and would not dream
of allowing her in such a place without proper escort.”
    He was babbling. Alixandrea cast
him a long look, silently ordering him to shut his mouth. Matthew apparently
did not notice. He was looking over the troops.
    “Do you still have the full
contingent of four hundred?” he asked. “None have run off or fallen ill during
the trip?”
    “We’ve lost none, my lord,”
Strode replied. “Would you inspect them?”
    “Not now,” Matthew said.
“Wellesbourne is a little more than a mile to the south. I shall inspect them
once we’re in the fortress.”
    Alixandrea listened to the
conversation, noting the interest in her betrothed’s voice. It reminded her,
yet again, of the truth of this marriage contract; he was marrying her for the
money and manpower, nothing more. She was so foolish in that she had hoped he
would have seen some value in her. She was no more than the soldiers and valuables
she carried; she was a commodity. She would have to accept that.
    She removed her hand from his.
“If there will be nothing else, my lord, perhaps we should continue to the
castle. The hour grows late.”
    He gazed down at her, watching
the sunlight play off of her bronze hair. Gold, brown and copper glistened like
a shower of light. 
    “A wise suggestion, my lady.” He
looked at Strode. “What is your name, man?”
    “Strode, my lord.”
    “Very well,” he nodded shortly.
“Take the lady down this road, through the village, until you come to
Wellesbourne. Stop for no one and make all due haste. These parts are not safe
after dark, even to me.”
     Reaching over, he took
Alixandrea’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.  She tried not to
look surprised by the bold action; it was a claiming gesture.  Silently, he led
her over to the carriage, opened the door, and very kindly helped her inside.
    All the while, Alixandrea kept
feeling that same innate gentleness she first sensed in him.  The man was
fearsome by size alone, but deep down, she felt there was more.  Perhaps it was
something he did not like anyone to see.
    Their eyes met briefly as she
took her seat and the corners of his eyes crinkled, as close to a smile as she
had so far seen. He’d remained stoic and emotionless to this point, and she
thanked him with a dip of her head.  As soon as Matthew removed himself from
the doorway, Jezebel leapt into the carriage and the door slammed tightly.
Outside, she heard a few barked orders and the carriage lurched, once again to
reel and roll that last terrible mile to Wellesbourne.
    As the carriage gained a
sickening rhythm on the road, she was aware of her disappointment that he had
not asked her to ride with him that last mile. Or she could have ridden her
paltry in stride with his great warhorse, and all of the inhabitants of
Wellesbourne would have seen that Matthew was indeed accepting this wife he had
been expecting for ten years.
    She could only imagine what all
of Wellesbourne thought of her, the great chain of doom out to attach herself
to Matthew and ruin his life.  But he had not asked her, indicative of the
level of enthusiasm he had for this marriage.  She sank back into her seat,
disenchanted and moody.
    The horses were just gaining
their stride when the carriage suddenly lurched to a halt. Unprepared,
Alixandrea went skidding across the cab and hit her head on the boxy wooden
headrest on the opposite seat.  Stars burst in her vision and the blood began
to flow.
    “Oh, m’lady,” Jezebel saw what
had happened and rushed to her aid. “Here, take this kerchief. Press it on the
wound or ye’ll get blood all over yer dress.”
    The cut was on the right side of
her forehead and stung. Alixandrea tried to put the cloth over the wound and
steady herself at the same time. The world was still rocking even though the
carriage had