Dragon's Knight. Catherine Archer
nodded absently as the man’s assumptions brought a surge of discomfort. With the bit of ribbon in his hand he now felt somewhat uneasy, especially as the image of Aislynn’s delicate face and those wide and beguiling blue eyes came strongly in his mind.
He suddenly realized he could not give it to her. It might only further confuse things between them. She might very well misinterpret his action, as the peddler had.
An honorable man did not give such gifts to a woman who was to be married. The Dragon, who had been the man to teach Jarrod so much of honor, had never mentioned this specifically. But Jarrod knew, in spite of the fact that he had little experience with gentlewomen. His sense of right told him as much.
Nay, he could not give it to her, but neither did he wish to keep it. Only the fact that he would cause the peddler to speculate further kept him from dropping the bit of silk to the ground where he stood.
Chapter Four
Aislynn listened with amazement to her father. “The peddler has told Sir Jarrod that your brother had sought information about a village called Ashcroft. Sir Jarrod believes, as I do, that he may, in fact, have gone to this place.”
“Ashcroft.” The name was utterly unfamiliar, but Aislynn’s joy overwhelmed any accompanying surprise. In her excitement Aislynn leaned closer to her father. Sir Jarrod had accomplished what they had not.
She had not seen Jarrod Maxwell since that horrible confrontation this very morning. Her face heated at the very memory of it, though she was buoyed by a sense of righteous indignation.
Unaware, her father answered, “Sir Jarrod told me just minutes ago when I met him as he was leaving the keep.”
She looked down at her folded hands. “He is not coming in to the meal?”
“Nay. He is determined to seek further information concerning this village.”
This brought her upright. “What do you mean—seek further information? Can Sir Jarrod not simply go there?”
“The peddler knew no more about the location than that it may be in Scotland. Scotland is a big country.”
She sighed. “Then my happiness is premature.”
“Nay, daughter.” He reached out to put his large warm hand over her cold one. “Sir Jarrod has said that even if he learns nothing more this day he intends to simply head toward Scotland and see what can be learned on the way. He will leave on the morrow.”
Jarrod was leaving on the morrow! Aislynn felt a rush of emotion that left her limbs weak, her chest tight.
As her father went on, she forced herself to attend him. “Sir Jarrod is determined. I believe that if any can locate this village, he can. And if he does locate it, he may indeed find your brother there or at the very least further word of him.”
Aislynn forced herself to nod. She wanted her brother found and she did not care in the least that Jarrod Maxwell would be leaving them in order to find him.
She was glad the irritating man would be gone from Bransbury. Life would go on much more smoothly and peacefully without him.
A sudden rush of memory of the times when their eyes had met and the strange sensation that had come over her made her feel weak and uncertain. When Jarrod Maxwell looked at her, Aislynn felt, well, alive in a way she had not been before he came.
“Aislynn?”
The sound of her father saying her name intruded upon these thoughts. Her voice was breathless as she answered, “Yes, Father.”
The frown that creased his brow left her with the impression that he had been trying to gain her attention for some time. His words confirmed it. “Aislynn, attend me, please. Are you well?”
She nodded quickly. “I am simply so very happy to know that Sir Jarrod will set out immediately.” She could hear the lack of conviction in her words.
He nodded. “You will, of course, see that Sir Jarrod has all he needs to begin his journey—food, warm furs, perhaps even a tent, and whatever else he might require.”
Now Aislynn frowned in consternation. She did not wish to have any more contact with Jarrod Maxwell.
She could not tell her father this. Yet neither could she bear the thought of facing the knight. She smiled tightly. “Father, I am sure that Sir Jarrod will not require anything beyond some food. He brought no such luxuries as you suggest when he arrived at Bransbury.”
He scowled at her. “I am surprised at you, Aislynn, for this attitude is quite unlike you. We could do nothing about the circumstances by which Sir Jarrod traveled to us. We can do something about the circumstances under which he leaves us. Especially so when it is for our benefit that he has undertaken this journey.”
She flushed, looking down at her hands, which she had clasped tightly in the lap of her apricot velvet skirt. It was badly done of her to respond as she had. And even more importantly she felt a reluctance for her father to wonder at her odd behavior.
Aislynn spoke very softly. “Your point is well taken, Father. I will see that Sir Jarrod has all he will accept by way of making his journey as comfortable as possible.”
He nodded. He seemed suddenly distracted now, seeing her, yet not seeing. His distant voice told her why. “I have received word that, far from being quelled by my visit to him, Llewellyn has continued to harry his neighbors, though none claim to know the reason why. They are saying that he is calling in every man upon his lands for questioning. If I can not leave this chaos in order to find my son, making the one who will search for him comfortable is the least we can do.”
Aislynn bowed her head. “I will see to it this very moment, Father.”
As she moved off to the kitchens, Aislynn resolved that, even though she meant to carry out her father’s wishes with no more complaint or hesitation, she need not have direct interaction with the man she had been avoiding, until all was done. Sir Jarrod would very likely be glad to have little contact with her as well.
It was not until some hours later, long after most of the keep had sought their beds that Aislynn was finished making arrangements for their guest’s journey. She wiped her hair back from her brow with a weary hand, feeling a sense of accomplishment in spite of her fatigue. Leather bags had been packed with foods that would keep well for several days. The freshly aired furs, as well as a small but sound tent, were ready to be secured to the donkey she had designated to carry the provisions.
She knew she had delayed telling Jarrod Maxwell of her preparations for him long enough.
She had no fear of waking the man who so occupied her thoughts. Margaret had informed her that he had returned to the keep a short time gone. Margaret had further insisted a jug of warmed wine, as well as bread and meat, be sent to Christian’s chamber.
Where he might have been until so very late at night, Aislynn did not know. Nor, she told herself, did she care. Her business with him was purely out of necessity.
Yet she could not help wondering if he was avoiding her as she was him. For some reason the thought prickled, which made no sense whatsoever.
She raised her head high as she made her way down the passage that led to her brother’s chamber.
Yet as she came to halt outside the narrow oak door, she hesitated, biting her lower lip. She could hear no sound from inside. Perhaps she was wrong in thinking the knight would still be awake and Jarrod Maxwell had already gone to sleep. She certainly did not wish to waken him, not when he was starting a long journey in the morning. Perhaps one of the servants could inform him of the preparations she had made on his behalf in the morning.
Even as she continued to hesitate, a soft scraping from inside the chamber made her frown with chagrin.
The knight was awake. And she had promised her father.
Taking