A Love Unveiled

Chapter Eleven

              Lynette stiffened as horror washed over her and she took an involuntary step backward. The warrior with his golden eyes was larger than she remembered and far more menacing. He stood motionless and just watched her with a look of awareness.

            “You bitch!” thundered Lechmere and she spun around, startled by his anger as he attempted to brush the herring pie from his lap.

            Fear clutched at her chest as Lechmere raised his hand. She stepped back, forgetting the Norman at her back, and braced herself for the pain.

            When his hand did not fall, she opened her eyes to see Lechmere’s hand fastened in the Norman’s iron grip.

            “Do not raise your hand to her.” She felt the rumbling of his voice vibrate through his massive chest and realized in her fear she had backed into him.

            She immediately straightened her spine to keep from touching the warrior and turned back to Lechmere. “M-my apologies, milord.” She tucked her head downward and peered at his booted feet, caked too with herring pie.

            Lechmere’s eyes glinted angrily above her head at Macaulay whose grip remained firm. “You can release me, Macaulay.”

            Slowly, the fingers unfurled and his hand fell away.

            “I should whip the clumsiness out of you, wench.”

            Fallon felt the woman stiffen before him but she said nothing, not even a faint whimper to express her fear.

            “Where is the other?” he demanded and the woman spun about, her blue eyes wide with alarm.

            Lechmere frowned, “Other? What other?”

            “The red-haired woman.” He said this without taking his eyes off the girl.

            It took Lechmere a moment but than he said, “Ah, you must mean the defiant one!” This caught his attention and he averted his eyes to Lechmere. “She’s a spirited one, the wench.”

            “Where is she?” he demanded forcefully, catching Lechmere unaware. “Where is the woman?”

            Lechmere’s dark eyes sparkled with sudden curiosity, “You have an interest in the Saxon wench?”

            “Is she here?” he growled.

            Lechmere was silent as he weighed this considerably, suddenly puzzled as to how Macaulay had known of the red-haired woman. “Come with me.” He said and started from the room.

            Fallon exchanged a meaningful look with Ranulf and the big warrior nodded as a silent trade of words passed between them.          

            His heart beat an unwavering rhythm of anticipation as Lechmere led him through a narrow corridor and turned to ascend a winding stairway of stone.

            Alana.

            Her name brushed the walls of his mind like a sweet caress. How could one woman, a Saxon at that, have such an alluring pull on him?

            Many nights he tossed restlessly in his bed, thinking of hair the color of sunlight and eyes an unusual shade of green but most of all, the kindness she had bestowed him. Would he find that kindness still?