The Fallen One (5 page)

    
“I did.”

    
“Then they are the
most wonderful gift I have ever received,” he said. “No one has ever made
treats for me before.”

    
Cathlina was smiling
so broadly that her face threatened to split in half.
 
“Then I am happy to be the first,” she said,
noticing that Sebastian was tearing into the onions. She sighed at the sight. “Mayhap
I should have made two baskets – one for you and one for your brother. It would
seem he is going to eat everything before you have the opportunity to taste
it.”

    
Mathias cocked an
eyebrow as he snatched the basket away from his brother, shoving the man back
by the chest when he tried to pursue.
 
Sebastian
balled a fist but Mathias held up a finger.

    
“You have already
shown Lady Cathlina what an animal you are,” he said. “Would you show her that
you are a brute as well? Show some manners in front of the lady, Sebastian. You
are shaming me.”

    
Sebastian tried to
throw the punch but couldn’t bring himself to do it. His brother was right;
moreover, if he had any chance of wooing the woman, he would have to behave
himself.

Lowering his balled fist, he forced a smile
at Cathlina and sought to apologize for whatever brutish manners he had thus
far shown when Justus entered the stall with a customer, bellowing for Sebastian.
Disgruntled, Sebastian was forced away from his brother and the lovely lady.

    
“Good,” Mathias
snorted as he watched his unhappy brother stomp away. “That should keep him
occupied for a while.”

    
Cathlina watched Sebastian
move away. “Your brother is quite… lively? Friendly? I am searching for the
correct word that will not offend you.”

    
Mathias laughed
softly. “He is aggressive and he is a boor,” he said. “But he is also fiercely
loyal and strangely compassionate.
 
It is
an odd combination.”

    
Cathlina grinned at
him. “Mayhap you should hide this food from him. I have a feeling he will eat
it all given the opportunity.”

    
“He will,” Mathias
agreed, his gaze drifting over her delicate features. “Truly, it was quite kind
of you to bring this.
 
Where is your
father so that I may thank him also?”

    
Cathlina’s grin faded.
“He is at home,” she replied. “He did not come with me.”

    
Mathias looked over
her shoulder, back in the direction she had come from. “Where is your escort?”

    
“I do not have one.”

    
His brow furrowed.
“Did you come here alone?”

    
“It was not a long
ride and the day was fine.”
    
Now both eyebrows lifted in a mixture
of concern and disapproval. “It is not safe for a lady to travel alone,” he
said as mildly as he could. “Does your father know you have come?”

    
“He does not.”

    
Mathias wasn’t sure
what to say to that, but one thing was for certain; he was very flattered that
she should risk her personal safety to deliver what she considered a reward for
assisting her.
 
In fact, he was rather
stunned.

“Would you allow me to escort you home,
then?” he asked softly. “I cannot allow you to return home unattended now that
I know you have no escort. I hope you understand.”

“It is truly not necessary. I can find my
own way home.”

“I am sorry, but I must insist. If you will
not give me permission to escort you, then know that I will follow you all of
the way home to ensure you do not run into any trouble.
 
I can either ride with you or as your shadow;
it is your choice.”

Cathlina very nearly refused him again but
she quickly realized that if he escorted her home, they would have more of a
chance to talk.
 
Perhaps she could come
to know him better.
 
Clearly, she was
attracted to the man; now that she had seen him again, it served to reinforce
her initial opinion of him. He was handsome, gentle mannered, and undoubtedly
brave.
 
There was much to be attracted
to.

Unlike her sister, Cathlina didn’t
particularly care if he was a lord or not.
 
Roxanne was the one with lofty goals; Cathlina had, since she could
recall, merely wanted a man she liked a great deal no matter what status he
held in life.
 
She’d heard of many lords
who were selfish, vain, and immoral.
 
Being a lord didn’t mean one was automatically of good character.
 
Cathlina would rather have good character and
love over wealth and status. The man in front of her was of good character; she
could sense it.

“Very well,” she said after a moment’s
deliberation. “I would be honored with your company. Are you certain you can
spare the time?”

Mathias looked around the stall, at the big
charger he needed to finish.
 
Taking the
basket in one hand and the lady by the other, he gently escorted her over to a
stool near the wall and helped her to sit.
 
He set the basket down next to her.

“I must finish with this Son of Lucifer,”
he said, throwing a thumb in the direction of the big black charger. “When I am
finished, I will be happy to escort you home. Is that acceptable?”

“It is.”

Their eyes met, brown against green, and
for a moment, the pull between them was stronger than they could grasp. It was
difficult to describe, this attraction between two people who had no
expectations or obligations to their brief association.
 
Up until a few minutes ago, all Mathias knew
of the Lady Cathlina de Lara was that she was incredibly beautiful but,
unfortunately, she was also a de Lara. He had warned his brother against her.
Now, he was not so apt to heed his own warning. There was something about the
woman that was very, very special. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her
because she muddled his mind so; she was bewitching.
 
He finally had to force himself away.

“I will not be long,” he said as he made
his way back over to the horse, who tried to bite him.
 
He frowned at the animal. “These animals are
sometimes quite difficult to handle for those they are not familiar with.”

Cathlina watched him with interest as he
pulled another red-hot shoe out of the fire and began hammering at it.

“It is a very big horse,” she said. “A war
horse?”

Mathias nodded as he pounded. “This nasty
boy has seen several battles.”

Cathlina eyed the scarred horse. “We saw
several knights in town yesterday when we arrived,” she said.
 
“My father says there is to be a tournament
in a few days.”

Mathias nodded as he put the shoe back into
the fire. “So it would seem.”

Cathlina studied the man as he stirred the
fire; he was wearing leather breeches and a leather apron, and a rather worn
linen tunic that in greater days had probably been a bright shade of red. It
was very worn, and the neckline was torn just enough so she could see portions
of his muscular chest.
 
The man had the
biggest arms she had ever seen, muscular to a fault, and his chest seemed to
match that particular pattern.
 
She’d
never thought much about men’s chests before but in peeking at Mathias’, she
thought his rather attractive.
 
The man
was purely big and beautiful, and her cheeks began to flush.
 
She averted her gaze and sought to divert her
innately passionate thoughts.

“Where… where were you born, Mathias?” she
asked, struggling to think on something else to speak of.

He continued to stoke the fire, his face
and body riddled with lusty, oozy sweat, causing his inky hair to kink up in
small curls around his neck.

“Throston Castle in Northumbria,” he said.
“It is near the eastern coast.”

“I see,” Cathlina said, cocking her head as
she tried to imagine where he was from. “You must have learned your trade from
a very young age. Did you ever think to become anything other than a smithy?”

He pulled the red-hot shoe out of the fire
again and set it on the anvil.
 
He didn’t
want to tell her his deepest, darkest secret for many reasons, not the least of
which was the fact that she was a de Lara. Therefore, for all she knew, he was
what she saw: a smithy. There was no reason to tell her any differently because
it would have been far too complicated to explain, anyway, and it might
possibly frighten her away. He didn’t want to frighten her away.

“Like what?” he asked, glancing up at her
with a twinkle in his eye. “A farmer? A sailor?”

Cathlina took the question seriously. “You
are big and brave and intelligent,” she said. “Perhaps you could have found
someone to sponsor you as a page or squire at a young age.
 
You could have been a fighting man. You said
you were born at Throston Castle? Who is the lord at Throston?”

My
grandfather,
he thought. They were heading deeper into a subject he wanted to
avoid.
 
He pounded on the shoe.

“An old man by the name of Lenox,” he
replied, then shifted the course of questions back onto her and away from
secrets he did not wish to divulge. “Your father is a knight, is he not? Allied
with the Earl of Carlisle, you said?”

Successfully diverted, she nodded. “My
father is a cousin to the earl,” she replied. “During the wars between the king
and Roger Mortimer, my father served the earl and the king. But he sustained a
very bad injury in the battle at Stanhope a few years ago and resigned from
fighting.
 
He simply administers the garrison
at Kirklinton now and has knights and other men who do the fighting for him.”

“What is your father’s name?”

“Sir Saer de Lara. Have you ever heard of
him?”

“I am sorry, I have not. I am sure he was a
great knight.”

“They used to call him The Axe.
 
Father did not fight with a sword; he liked
his axe much better.”

The
Axe.
 
Now, Mathias had heard
that
name.
 
De Lara’s Axe had been a feared fighter,
indeed.
 
More and more, Mathias was sure
he would never divulge his past to Cathlina.
 
Or at least, never divulge it to her father.
 
He was coming to wonder if his attraction to
her would lead him down paths he was trying very hard to avoid.
 
If their attraction grew and he eventually
pledged for her, somehow, someway, he would have to be truthful.
 
To lie about who, and what, he was then have
the truth come from someone else’s lips to Cathlina’s ears would have
devastating consequences.
 
Truth be told,
lying was not in his blood. Truth and honor meant everything to him.

“I could make him an excellent axe,” he
teased softly, watching her giggle. She had the most beautiful smile. “Mayhap
you will want to give your father a gift someday and employ me to make it.”

She laughed softly. “I am sure you would do
a very good job.”

He grinned, swept up in her charm, when a
pair of knights entered the stall.
 
They
didn’t see Cathlina, sitting against the wall, as they sauntered into the shop,
knocking over a hammer and hardly caring. They were young, arrogant, and full
of entitlement.
 
The taller of the pair,
a young knight with bristly red hair, approached Mathias.

“Have you finished with my horse yet?” he
demanded.

Mathias picked up an enormous steel file
and bent over, pulling a hoof between his legs. “Almost,” he said.
 
“A moment longer.”

“A moment longer?” the knight repeated,
incredulous and outraged. “He has been here all morning.”

Mathias was filing the front left hoof. “He
has been here not yet two hours,” he said steadily. “These shoes were specially
prepared, as you requested. That takes time.
 
I am almost finished.”

The young knight pursed his lips angrily,
eyeing the big smithy. “You are incompetent,” he announced. “This job should
have been completed an hour ago.”

“I will be finished in a moment.”

“I will not pay you, then. You did not
finish on time.”

Surprisingly, Mathias kept his
composure.
  
“I told you when you brought
him in that he would be finished by early afternoon,” he said. “I have finished
him sooner than I estimated and you will indeed pay me the full price or I will
pull every one of these shoes off of him and you can find someone else to shoe
this bad-tempered beast.
 
Do I make
myself clear?”

The young knight was looking for a
confrontation.
 
He was too arrogant to
back down from what he considered a challenge. “You will do no such thing,” he
said. “I will not let you. I will take my horse now and I will not pay you for
being lazy and slow.”