Lord Of Lyonsbridge

Karyn nodded a silent agreement.

It was heartbreaking to think that such a perfect little creature could not speak for herself. Ellen wondered what could have caused the affliction. She’d been “struck dumb,” they’d said. Had she once spoken, then? Of course, Ellen knew that such things occurred, and that sometimes it was best not to inquire too deeply into the why of it, lest it be a witch’s spell. She couldn’t imagine that even a witch could be so evil as to wish harm on a sweet little child such as Karyn Cooper.

“You are good to us, milady,” the widow said. “As soon as I feel better, I’ll be bringing up a pork cake for your table.”

Ellen blinked. She couldn’t ever remember a tenant in Normandy offering food for the master’s table. The idea seemed almost absurd. It was obvious that this peasant family had so little, while her father’s household wanted for nothing. She didn’t know how to reply.

Connor saved her from doing so. “Widow Cooper’s pork cake is famous in the shire,” he said, smiling first at the older woman, then at Ellen. “’Twill be a rare treat for you.”

The widow seemed pleased with the praise, but looked noticeably more tired than when they’d entered the cottage. “I should get me mum back into bed,” Sarah murmured, her eyes downcast.

Ellen straightened up quickly. “Of course you should, child. I didn’t come to tire her further. We’ll take our leave, Master Brand.”

She looked at Connor, who gave little Abel a final squeeze and stood. She’d almost forgotten about him for several moments as she spoke with the tenant family, but now, looking at how his tall form dwarfed the shadowy cottage, she felt a stir of excitement. They’d yet to have their promised race.

After John and Sarah refused their offer to help get the widow back into bed, they said their goodbyes and left. Once again, Ellen was struck with a sense of freedom as she emerged from the gloomy cottage into the sun. What would it be like to live with five people in such a tiny place? she wondered for the first time in her life. But her thoughts did not linger long with the question.

As on their first visit, there had been no one to greet them when they’d ridden through town, but on the return trip, Ellen could spot a villager here and there, usually behind their cottages tending gardens. None were near enough to hail, so they rode through without stopping. If any of them thought it unusual to see the lady of the land riding astride a big horse, her skirts bunched up about her, at least none was rude enough to stare.

“I have to give you the right of it, milady,” Connor told her as they left the village. “You ride that saddle almost as well as a man, in spite of the difference in raiments.”

Ellen’s eyes flashed gold. “Almost as well, Master Brand? Now there’s a challenge if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I didn’t mean it so,” he replied with an easy smile. But he didn’t withdraw his words.

“I can see I’ll have to convince you with deed rather than word.”

“You’d fancied a race, as I understood it.”

“Aye, but since I know not the countryside, you’ll have to set the course, which gives you the advantage.”

He drew up his horse and stood in the stirups to survey the landscape. The road from the village back to Lyonsbridge was gently hilly, but to the west lay. a stretch of meadow that was mostly flat and even. He pointed in that direction. “We can cross Anders’ Lea for nigh on five miles without an obstacle. ‘Twould seem fair enough to you?”

It was the charming Connor she was glimpsing today, but as he indicated their route, his expression challenged. There was something between them, she and this horse master. It wanted resolution. She needed to defeat him at his own game and put this to rest once and for all.

“Aye,” she said, gathering Jocelyn’s reins firmly in hand. “Give the word.”

“Nay, ‘tis always the privilege of the fairest lady to start the race.” His eyes lingered on her face as he spoke.

Ellen tamped down the knot that rose in her throat. It was past time to put this foolishness over a servant behind her. She’d show up the man at his own mastery, then she’d go back to concentrating on putting her father’s castle to rights, which was, after all, the reason she was here.

“Then let it begin,” she said with a toss of her head.

Before the last word even left her lips, both horses had sprung into action, moving smoothly, side by side, the sleek bay mare and the heavier black stallion, hooves reverberating hollowly on the grassy terrain.

They rode in silence for several minutes, riders as well as horses lost in the sheer enjoyment of speed and freedom. Ellen clutched Jocelyn’s back between her legs, ignoring the indecorous bit of hose showing at her ankles, and laughed with delight. They neared a middle section of the meadow where the grass grew higher, but Jocelyn was undaunted by the weeds whipping around her legs. Connor’s horse slowed slightly, and she pulled ahead.

“I’ll see you at the finish, horse master,” she shouted back at him, her smile taunting.

He appeared totally relaxed in his saddle and returned her smile with a small wave of his hand.

The course was longer than she’d anticipated, and she could tell that Jocelyn was tiring, but the noble animal kept running at full speed. She’d not stop until Ellen bade her, even if she exhausted herself.

Less than a quarter mile distant, Ellen could see that the meadow ended abruptly at a grove of mature oak trees. She smiled to herself as she realized that the victory she’d sought was at hand. “Just a little more, girl,” she whispered under her breath.

Suddenly Connor’s horse flashed by, nearly twice the speed of hers, knocking away her breath like a blow to the stomach. She almost lost her grasp on the reins, but Jocelyn stayed on course and did not slow her pace. Nevertheless, when they reached the trees, Connor was already there and dismounted, his face annoyingly impassive, standing ready to catch her mount’s reins.

As Jocelyn obligingly pulled up, her flanks heaving, Ellen sat in her saddle, stunned.

“’Twas a good race, milady,” Connor said after a moment. “You led me a chase.”

“You were well behind,” Ellen said in disbelief.

“Nay. I was but pacing.”

She shook her head. “’Twas not a distance to be paced. Jocelyn rode full out the entire way.”

“That was your mistake. A slower middle makes for a lightning-fast ending.”

His tone was not mocking, which helped her pride. Grudgingly, she said, “’Twas lightning fast, in truth. I’ve never seen such speed.”

Connor allowed himself a small smile. “Thunder’s a good mount.”

“I’d like to ride him sometime.”

Connor nodded. “I’d not trust him with many, but your ladyship rides well.”

She sensed that the compliment was genuine, and one that he gave rarely. It pleased her immensely.

He walked a couple steps, leading both horses into the shade of the oak grove. “Would my lady dismount a few moments so they can rest?” he asked.

“Aye.” She swung her leg over her mount’s back in a most unladylike fashion and twisted around to slide to the ground. Connor watched her, an odd expression on his face.

“You move like a nimble young lad,” he said after a moment.