Love's Call (11 page)

Distraction, thank the Blessed Spirit.

“I saw her after midday meal,” Tristan said. “She said she’s feeling up to it. So, I’d expect so.”

“Good, I’d like to see her.” Lucan smiled. The lad was extremely close to Lady Aldern.

Together they’d defeated an evil man, a former archduke named Varthan, who’d killed Lady Aldern’s family and coveted her father’s magic sword. The weapon was integral in his plot to kill the king.

Tristan had been working under disguise for Varthan, posing as one of his shades—extensively trained mages—to try to gather proof against the evil man.

He’d found Lucan, Varthan’s favorite shade, and promised to get him away from the man, when he’d discovered the lad was not evil.

Lord Jorrin and Lady Cera had fought together, along with Jorrin’s father, Braedon, an elf wizard named Hadrian and Lady Cera’s cousin, Avery. They were able to defeat Varthan and his shades, along with freeing Lady Cera’s aunt and uncle—Lord and Lady Lenore. Cera’s only remaining family had been held hostage in their own home, Castle Lenore, in the Province of Tarvis.

In fact, Lucan was the one who’d killed Varthan, though Leargan would’ve had a hard time believing had he not seen it with his own eyes.

The lad was sweet and honorable and wouldn’t hurt a fly. But there was no doubt he’d do it all over again, if he was doing what was right and protecting what he loved.

Leargan, along with a small army led by the king himself, had arrived in Tarvis just in time to witness the end.

Many had died at Varthan’s hand, but he’d not gotten the magic sword. Had Lucan not turned on him, things could have ended very differently, very badly. Lady Cera may even be dead, instead of happily married and expecting her first babe.

“Evenings are so lively around here. Almost like being at Rider Barracks, first meal after a long run.” Amusement wrapped Ansley’s words.

“Aye, yet mornings are even more so.”

She laughed. The sound was heaven.

The Alderns entered the great hall. All of the personal guard, stood, Leargan included.

Jorrin smiled and motioned for them to sit as Lady Cera also nodded and smiled before resuming a scowl in her husband’s direction.

Leargan chuckled and glanced over at Ansley’s bark of laughter.

“I think she’ll be much more pleasant when the baby finally decides to show up,” she whispered, winking.

Ansley leaned into him and the floral scent of her hair tickled his nose. The smile curving her lips made him dizzy.

Blessed Spirit, she was gorgeous.

He swallowed hard.

She was so delightful and playful. How could she be so nice to him after he’d obviously hurt her?

Jorrin had to be wrong. Could an empath
be
wrong?

He
had
seen the flash of hurt in her eyes when he’d come to the table. Doubt made him shift on his feet. “I would never remark on such things,” he teased back, reaching for composure with both hands.

“Ah, smart man.” Tristan remarked, grinning.

Ansley smiled at the lord and a ridiculous wave of jealousy washed over him. He tamped it down, berating himself.
Second time
where his old captain’s daughter was concerned. He had no reason for his…
feelings
.

Aimil’s greeting to the duke and duchess took his attention as Jorrin helped Cera into her seat on his right. She tried to shrug his hands off, but he wasn’t having it, the lord maintained his grip on her forearm.

“Good evening, everyone,” Cera said, ignoring her husband and smiling sweetly at Lucan when he handed her a goblet.

Servants poured in with more food, and Leargan surveyed the room. Most of the castle guard was present, as well as the late shift, who would serve the last postings of the day. His eyes swept over it all.

Leargan saw so many different people, some he knew, some he didn’t. All looked content. They laughed and joked, some of his men a bit too rambunctiously, but their energy would serve them well as they ventured into town. He smirked. Alasdair would be grumpy on patrol, no doubt.

“My lady, how are you feeling this evening?” Morag, the headwoman asked.

Leargan swung his head around in time to see the older woman at Cera’s side, setting a full basket of sweet rolls especially for the duchess, on the table.

“Fine, Morag, thank you.” Lady Cera’s voice was guarded, and she avoided looking at the other woman.

“Shall I call for the midwife?” The headwoman didn’t approve of the idea of Tristan delivering Lady Cera and Jorrin’s baby, though he was much more skilled than any midwife.

Cera had told her on many occasions—at least in Leargan’s presence—that she had no need of Peg, the midwife.

“No, Morag,” his lady said evenly. Cera’s eyes narrowed as she looked back at the headwoman.

“As you wish, milady.” Morag’s brow was knitted. She said nothing more but bowed and excused herself from the dais.

Lady Cera sighed, and Jorrin leaned over to whisper something in her ear.

Leargan reclined into the back of his chair as she smiled. No one wanted the lady of the castle upset, especially a pregnant one.

“Leargan, can I go on overnight patrol tonight? Sir Niall said you’re leading.” Lucan’s green eyes were wide and sincere when their gazes collided.

He’d been waiting for the question all day. Brodic had approached the subject that morning, and he’d no doubt the lads had come up with the idea together.

His squire was about to take the next step in his training to become a knight. Leargan had gifted him with his first sword to celebrate the lad’s fifteenth birthday a month before, so it was no surprise Lucan didn’t want to be left behind.

The mage had been officially knighted by the king due to his bravery in saving Lady Cera and the kingdom from the former archduke, but he’d been dying to be considered a skilled,
real knight
—in Lucan’s words.

Leargan hid a smile. “Aye, lad. There’s no reason you can’t. Then tomorrow you will meet the personal guard and men-at-arms alike on the fighting yard to begin your training. But, no magic.”

The lad nodded seriously, his face losing some of its youthful edge.

Tristan caught his eye and nodded approvingly.

“Thank you, Leargan!” Lucan pumped his fist.

“You don’t need to thank me, lad. You need to work hard. I know you can do it,
Sir
Lucan.”

Lucan nodded again, his mouth a hard line of determination.

Leargan swallowed a laugh lest he offend the boy.

The duke’s eyes danced.

****

Ansley’s breath caught as he addressed the lad. Stern, but caring. And didn’t that just make her admire him even more? Leargan spoke to him as an equal. Even mentioned his title. Her knight cared for Lucan very much.

It was already difficult enough sitting next to him, teasing and talking and pretending she was fine. Her chest ached every time she looked at him, only to worsen when he glanced back at her. But this was the first time he’d said more than
hello
in days.

She wanted to be near him…talk to him. Nothing had changed for her. All the self-deprecation in the world wasn’t affecting her heart.

As she watched him interact with everyone else at the head table, Cera’s words echoed in her head. He did smile and laugh a bit, but with an aura of reservation.

Leargan held himself back. He was always observing something or someone as if he knew where everything and
everyone
was, at all times. The warrior in him required it so he could react if necessary. Her father was like that, too. It was hard to tell if either man ever truly relaxed.

Also like her father, Leargan cared deeply for everything he was in charge of protecting. She could tell by the way he carried himself.

Could she be included?

Lord Dagget teased him at the table, as did the duke. Leargan appeared to laugh easily, which made him even more handsome.

Ansley wanted to see more of that side of Leargan. To be close to him. To be considered his friend. Well, if she was honest, more than just his
friend.

Had their kisses truly meant nothing to him?

Pain stabbed her chest.

“Now, it’s my turn to ask you if something is wrong, Ansley,” Leargan said.

She jumped. His soft voice was so close to her ear.

He leaned into her, their faces only inches apart.

As she looked into his eyes, Ansley’s heart sped up, words evaporating. Her gaze slid to his lips. Memories teased of how they’d felt moving against her own. “N…n…nothing…”
Stuttering?
That was a first.

His eyebrow shot up, so she forced words to keep tumbling from her mouth.

“I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Leargan nodded and moved away.

She wanted to stop him. Wasn’t the least bit offended by his closeness—as a matter of fact, she craved it.

He doesn’t want that with you.

“Ansley…” The hesitation in his voice had her meeting his eyes again. His tone was un-knight-like and, therefore
un-Leargan-like.

“Aye?”

But then he shook his head, full mouth a hard line, broad shoulders tight.

She didn’t have the guts to push him, but curiosity ate at her. Turns of watching him flitted through her mind.

Leargan
always
exuded confidence.

What’s this?

Ansley stared into the dark pools of his eyes. She could fall into him. She needed to. It felt
right.

Neither of them spoke, but he stared right back.

Minutes passed, she jolted back to herself, suppressing the tremor that shot down her spine.

They were in the great hall.

It was
public,
but everyone else had faded away from the moment their gazes had locked. No one existed but him.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Leargan’s voice invaded her thoughts. Back to normal, steady and sure.

As if she’d imagined his uncertainty.

Idiot, get yourself together.

“Aye.” She nodded for effect and forced a smile.

“Leargan.” Sir Niall’s voice made her jump in her seat.

“Aye?” Leargan asked his Second.

“Are you ready?”

“I’ll be there shortly,” Leargan said. “But you can retire. I’ll handle it.”

“I was going to brief the new ones,” Niall said.

“Very well. Please have Fia readied for me.”

“The day is late. Is everything all right?” Ansley asked, worry creeping up.

“Aye. As Lucan mentioned, I’m leading our overnight patrol. Normally the guard would leave such things to the men-at-arms, but we’ve new men.”

“Ah. Be careful, then.”

Leargan smiled, and heat burned her neck, scorched her cheeks. “Always.” He inclined his head and pushed his chair back.

Irrational panic swept her, and she had to stop herself from reaching for his hand. Anything to keep him from leaving her.

Although their conversation wasn’t wholly comfortable, he
had
spoken to her. Ansley wanted more. “Will I see you in the morning?”

Leargan’s gaze found hers, his dark eyes wide, hand still on the back of his chair. “Aye.” His chest rose with a deep breath. He shifted on his feet and he leaned closer. “Can you make time for me tomorrow? I’d like to speak to you in privacy.”

Her cheeks flamed and Ansley fought the urge to press her lips to his.

He was so close.

Nod. Just nod. Act like his request is normal.

She forced an answer out. “Ah…all…right. Aye.”

“Thank you.” Leargan reached for her hand and squeezed.

She stared at his warm fingers over hers.

Alone. With
Leargan?

Her stomach flipped.

Leargan took his leave, and Ansley watched him walk out of the great hall, trying not to be too blatant as she admired the way his brown breeches hugged his rear end.

After forcing her eyes away, she glanced around the hall. Most were filing out, maids starting to sweep in to clean up, removing trays and empty plates, dishes and silverware clattering and clinking.

Lords Tristan and Jorrin stood collectively, and Ansley didn’t miss both ladies assuring their husbands they would meet them in chambers. Aimil even promised to escort Cera.

Ansley piped in that she’d also make sure the duchess came to no harm, ignoring Cera’s grumble that she was not a child.

Both men eventually left the dais, and she was alone with her two best friends at the long table.

“What did he say?” Aimil’s dark eyes were curious.

“He wants to speak to me in private.” Ansley shook her head, disbelief washed over her. What could Leargan have to say to her?

“Then do it,” Cera said.

Ansley nodded absently, trying to calm her heart. “What could he want?”

“You.” Aimil giggled.

Ansley blinked. “No. He doesn’t want me.” She ignored the familiar rush of pain.

“Give him a chance,” Cera said, smiling gently as she rubbed her distended tummy.

One corner of Ansley’s mouth lifted.

Did her friend even realize what she was doing?

“Just tell him what you want, Ans. Tell him how you feel,” Aimil said.

“I couldn’t…”

“You might be surprised with what he has to say,” Cera said.

Ansley narrowed her eyes, studying the other redhead. Cera’s tone had been odd.

The duchess’s gray eyes held something unreadable, but her friend schooled her expression.

“What do you know?” Ansley asked.

Cera’s shrug was casual—too casual. “Nothing. Just…like I said before, I’ve known him a while now. He’s a good man.”

“Aye, he is.” Ansley nodded.

The duchess said nothing more, and Ansley continued to appraise her.

Her friend might have told her a bit about Leargan, but what
hadn’t
she said?

Chapter Ten

Leargan yawned and stretched. He was going to end up oversleeping in the morning; he felt it in his bones.

It was past three o’clock, and they’d finished their rounds, nestling their horses in the stables and leaving the rest of the night—early morning—watch to reliable men-at-arms.

Blessed Spirit let me get them all trained soon.

It’d been almost a turn since he’d taken over in Greenwald. Even with the best help—which he had in each of his knights—they probably had several more months before he’d feel comfortable leaving things to others.