The Christmas Knight. Michele SinclairЧитать онлайн книгу.
you will say she is blond, blue-eyed, and beautiful beyond compare.”
“Ranulf, you are far too cynical.”
“You have said so before. So speak. Tell me of your temptresses and how their beauty can ensnare my men with a mere glimpse.”
“And for that last sarcastic remark, I shall describe them in detail, and maybe someday you, too, will have daughters and understand the fear that lurks in my aged heart.”
And so Ranulf listened as Laon spoke of each one. As it turned out, he had been wrong about their appearance, for if Laon’s description of them held even slight accuracy, not a one was blond and only the eldest possessed the same deep blue eyes of her father.
“Bronwyn is very much like myself, in both looks and temperament.”
“Then she likes to command and manipulate those around her,” Ranulf interjected to prove he was listening.
Laon sent him a slicing glance before answering. “Aye, and if you think me stubborn and relentless, you will rediscover the meaning if you and my eldest daughter ever disagree upon something. And prepare to lose, for even if you are right, she will wear you down until you find yourself acquiescing on the one point you swore never to concede,” Laon cackled, obviously recalling one or two times in which she had bested him. Then his voice changed. “But I thank the Lord for her steadfastness and prudence. With my absence, I suspect all have been looking to her for guidance, and they were right to do so,” he breathed softly. “Though no man would want her, she is strong in spirit and in mind and the only person I would trust to ensure her sisters are safe and well.”
“Which one is Eydthe?”
“My middle child. She is small, but don’t let that deceive you when you meet her. She inherited her Scottish grandmother’s temper as well as her dark red hair. Of all of my daughters, her mind is the sharpest, but so is her tongue. It is my youngest, Lily, that I worry about the most when it comes to your men,” Laon sighed. “She is the spitting image of her mother. Tall and slender with long dark raven hair and gray eyes, she snatches the soul of every man who looks upon her.”
And as if he could read Ranulf’s mind, he added, “And her disposition is just as sweet. She sees only the good things in life and, as a consequence, brings joy wherever she goes.”
Ranulf conscientiously fought to refrain from showing his true reaction—nausea. He had no doubt that Laon believed every word he spoke, but beautiful, kind, understanding, and smart? He had yet to see such a combination and he had encountered many, many women at court. Either Laon’s daughters were not half the beauties he claimed them to be or they were far from the sweet creatures he described. Such women did not exist.
“As far as your eye patch…”
Ranulf blinked and tried to recall just how and when Laon had changed the subject. “I don’t wear one.”
“I noticed and I have also seen how it affects those around you.”
Ranulf felt a coldness enter his veins he hadn’t felt in days. He had been a fool to believe Laon indifferent to his injury, uncaring of appearances. The time had come, as it always did, when curiosity could no longer be ignored and questions would be asked. “Your meaning?”
“A simple exchange, my lord. You wish to ignore a topic and I wish to discuss it. I should have brought it up before, but was hoping you would.”
Ranulf clenched his jaw. “I don’t talk about my eye because there is nothing to discuss. It is gone and I am not going to wear a horrid piece of leather to make those around me comfortable.” Including your daughters, he added to himself.
They, like the rest of the world, would have to get used to him or, even better yet, stay away from Hunswick Castle altogether. They had a home and there was no reason the four of them ever had to meet. “Eye patches,” Ranulf huffed. “Damn things are a nuisance. In order to keep them from slipping, they have to be so tight a headache is inevitable. And trust me, they are not the secret to making those around me feel at ease,” Ranulf added, repeating the rationale he had spouted for years to the duke and his men.
“Good reasons, though I doubt one of them is the real motive behind your refusal.” Laon paused long enough for Ranulf to counter. When it became obvious that silence was going to be his only response, Laon went ahead and answered the looming un-asked question. “I think you use people’s reactions as a test…And it is unfair.”
Unfair! The man had no idea what the word meant. He possessed his limbs and all his senses. He had a beautiful life, friends, and family. Ranulf neither sought nor wanted pity, for life could have issued a much harsher sentence to be endured, but neither did he need the scorn and antipathy that came from people’s unreasonable fear. And if boldly displaying his injury kept people away, the better. “A test that you might have prematurely passed,” Ranulf gritted out.
“Your eye did not matter to me then nor does it now,” Laon declared, ignoring the tension growing in his friend, “then again, I have seen bad injuries, disfiguring ones like yours. Most, especially the coddled women and men of court, have not. I have watched you, my lord, and have concluded that you are uncomfortable with your limitations and therefore desire to make others just as uncomfortable. You drive people away just so you don’t have to watch them squirm, shrink in fear, or just stare outright. You do it to protect yourself.”
“What do you want from me?” Ranulf growled. He steeled his face from emotion, clamping his mouth and gritting his teeth, but it belied the truth. He had been flung back in time, to the day, to the very hour, that changed what he was to those around him.
“I just want you to be honest with yourself, my lord. Until then you won’t be free of your past and neither will those who are around you.”
Ranulf shot Laon a penetrating look. He wasn’t ready to consider the nagging man’s comments or admit the truth to them. “I think, knight, we have conversed enough for one trip. And since you will want to go directly home upon our arrival and I will be staying for the coronation, it may be some time before we will have the opportunity to speak again. Until then, Sir le Breton,” Ranulf finished and, then with a quick nod, pivoted to walk away.
Riggers were swinging above and Ranulf ducked to avoid the massive ropes that were falling to the deck as they were adjusting the sails once again. A warning shout bellowed from behind him, echoed by several loud rebukes to move. Ranulf whipped around to search for the danger and issue a warning of his own for addressing him in such a way when he realized he wasn’t the one being shouted at.
The solid beam used to manipulate the sail had come loose from the cordage holding it in place. Every available seaman had been called and was working feverishly to secure the spar. Even riggers had left their positions, leaving lines unsecured in the wind.
Ranulf was about to continue his march back to his cabin when he spied one of the free lines tossing precariously close to a young deckhand no more than eleven or twelve at the ship’s edge. Ranulf hollered at him, but the aspiring seaman was struggling to push back heavy crates that had fallen and were getting drenched by the crashing waves against the rail. The boat swayed and a rope with a large heavy iron hook flew up in the air and was about to crush the boy as gravity pulled it back down. Ranulf reacted. He dove, sliding across the wet deck, yanking the slender form out of the hook’s deadly path just in time. Their bodies slammed into a stack of crates. The top box wobbled for a moment and then crashed down on the other side.
Ranulf let go a sigh of relief and eased his grip on the boy, who was himself visibly trembling, realizing just how close to death he had come. Ranulf patted his arm as blood began flowing within it again and stood up just as another wave crashed over the side, soaking his clothes. Grabbing the hem of his wool tunic, he twisted the dark red material and wrung out the freezing seawater, knowing the activity was fruitless. He would have to change and quickly before he became chilled.
He was about to return to his cabin when out of habit, he glanced to his left to see what others would have registered in their peripheral vision. The men, who had been steadying