Siege Of the Heart by Elise Cyr Page B

the hood of her cloak had been forced back. Strands of her rich brown hair floated about her face. Again he was struck by her beauty. Her temper would be a small price to pay for such a woman who could capture the hearts and loyalty of her people. If he could just win her over, it would make his presence in Ashdown all the easier.
    She dismounted, and Alex let her lead the way into the inn. The staunch, gray-haired innkeeper smiled toothily at Isabel in welcome. Their familiar exchange showed him she was no stranger to alehouses. He could not decide if that bothered him as the old man disappeared to prepare them a luncheon.
    At that time of day, they were the only guests in the inn. Isabel headed for a table closest to the fireplace. A wolfhound sprawled across the hearth. Just the thump of his tail and the crackling of the fire filled the room as they sat down on opposite sides. Isabel avoided looking at Alex, her gaze roving everywhere but at him. No doubt they would dine in silence if she had her way.
    He cleared his throat. “I could not help but observe some of your men were…surprised to find Norman knights in Ashdown,” he said, remembering the sting of Kendrick’s blade against his neck.
    She finally faced him. “I think we all were,” she said. “After all, my father is no stranger to William.”
    “No indeed, but even so, I thought we would find your household a little more welcoming.”
    “You must remember, although my father is proud of his Norman heritage, we are still English and are respectful of the traditions of my mother and her countrymen. The witan proclaimed Harold king, not William, and for many Englishmen, the council’s decision is law despite pronouncements from Rome to the contrary.” Alex opened his mouth to argue with her, but she raised her hand. “I am not trying to debate the legitimacy of William’s claim, but you must be mindful the grisly accounts of the battle have spread through this country like wildfire. The reports have done nothing to recommend you or your people.”
    She folded her hands and looked down at the table. “And you must know many of us are still grieving,” she said quietly.
    “I understand.” The hurt in her voice was almost tangible. Was she thinking about her brother? Alex sighed. “War is a hard thing. I learned that the first time I raised my sword in defense of my father’s home in Évreux. I was barely sixteen. But at Hastings, I was surprised by the dishonorable actions of many of William’s men. He was forced to hire mercenaries from France to round out his ranks, and their ungodly actions have sullied our presence in England.”
    Isabel raised her head, her eyes flinty in the dim room. “Not all the bloodshed can be laid at the feet of the mercenaries.”
    He shifted in his seat. “No. The bloodlust was strong on both sides. And when it grabs hold of a man...” He gathered his thoughts. “Be glad your father sought to protect you from it.”
    She turned away from him and warmed her hands in front of the fire. “Why are you a knight for William?” she asked over her shoulder. He could sense curiosity under her light tone. She sat back in her seat, waiting for an answer.
    He would oblige her, as it was the first time she took interest in him as a man. “I have two older brothers,” he said. “I wanted much more than to sit in their shadow or dedicate myself to the church. Normandy is tearing itself apart with all the fighting between the baronies. I wanted the chance to start over.”
    Isabel nodded. “And how has such a life found you?”
    “Very well, thankfully. I have accomplished much for myself, considering I am not yet twenty-eight. I am a respected member of William’s army, and he knows he can depend on me for anything,” he said with pride.
    “And what happens now? Now the fighting is over…” She struggled to get the words out.
    Alex looked away from her. “That depends…”
    “Yes?”
    “On a number of things.”