Midnight Eyes Brophy, Sarah (7 ebook reader txt) 📖

“Aye, be gone with you, then,” she said gruffly. She thrust Lucas’s hand through Imogen’s crooked arm and gave them a shove out the door.

Imogen had to stoop to try and match herself to Lucas’s slight stature and even then she stumbled. With a shake of her head she stopped after a few yards. She gently put Lucas’s hand down and stepped a half pace behind him and firmly placed her hand on his shoulder.

As Mary watched the mismatched pair disappear down the stairs without any further problems, she reached her hand into her apron pocket and grabbed for a handkerchief. She let out a loud sniff before allowing herself a moment of noisy grief. She then shoved the handkerchief back into the pocket from whence it came and resolutely straightened her spine. Perhaps if she kept telling herself that this was a good thing, then maybe it would be easier to get through.

It didn’t seem to work.

Her brows dropped a little as she thought of consoling herself by spending her time blaming Robert for this wonderful misfortune. After all, till he came here, there had been no talk of walks. It helped only for a moment.

Pity, as she had kind of liked the idea of having someone to curse. Instead she marched back into Imogen’s bedroom and over to the fireplace. She sat down heavily and began stoking the flames with a will. If she was going to wait and worry for hours, she thought with a self-righteous sniff, then there was no way in hell she was going to freeze while doing it.

Lucas walked Imogen slowly down the last of the stairs and guided her toward the main door. The burden of his new responsibility showed in the seriousness of his expression.

The Keep seemed oddly still after the past weeks of noisy activity.

With Robert gone to the tower for at least the rest of the day, the servants had taken a much-needed chance to rest. After years of near inertia, to be suddenly working for a human whirlwind, even one as respected as Robert had become with everyone in the Keep, was something of a shock. The chance to breathe normally again was too good to ignore.

Imogen smiled broadly, feeling better than she had in weeks—no, in years, she realized with wonder. A bubble of happiness rose inside her and she was gripped by a desire to run, to skip, to dance; just to see if she still could after all this time.

“Can we go a little faster?” she whispered to Lucas, wheedlingly.

“Only if you want us to fall on our faces, m’lady,” he whispered back.

She thought about it for a moment. “We mightn’t, you know.”

“Yes, but if we do, Sir Robert will have me torn into little bits.”

“Coward,” she said severely, but smiled. It seemed impossible to stop smiling on such a day.

She could feel his head nodding vigorously. “You bet I am. I intend to live to see my eighth year.”

Imogen was just about to add something when Lucas came to an abrupt halt. Imogen collided with his small body, causing him to stumble a bit.

“Why did you do that?” she exploded in shock. “If you don’t say something when you plan to stop, then falling on our faces becomes an inevitability.”

“Sor-sorry, my lady,” he stammered.

“It was my fault,” came a deep, velvet-sounding voice in front of them. “I stepped away from the wall rather abruptly while you were both whispering.”

The sudden arrival of a third person, one she hadn’t even sensed, stopped her heart for a second. She could feel the shock lodging in her hands, causing them to shake a little, but she lifted her chin in defiance. This had to be one of Robert’s men whose laughter had haunted her for weeks, she thought darkly.

“Well, sir, you are obstructing our path,” she said imperiously, “so please remove yourself so we can continue on our way.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that until you tell me what you are about. Sir Robert has left me in charge of the Keep, so, Lucas, if we start with who exactly your delightful companion is, I might be able to decide whether either of you represent a threat or not.”

“Sir Gareth…” Lucas stammered clumsily, but Imogen’s alarm was quickly turning to white-hot anger.

“You mean to tell me that you intend to prevent me from leaving the Keep if I don’t answer your impertinent questions?” she asked coldly.

The man paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Yes, that would about sum it up. Now, your name—”

“Why, you nasty little toad,” Imogen exploded. “Come, Lucas, step around this worm and we will be on our way.”

Lucas hesitated for a moment. In the fortnight since Robert had taken possession of the Keep, Lucas had quickly learned to treat both him and his knights with careful respect. The first time one of them had clapped him encouragingly on the back, he had been sent reeling. They just didn’t seem to know their own strength, and Lucas didn’t want Sir Gareth to feel he had to physically stop them. His innate common sense warned him that it would hurt.

This respect for their raw power was also mixed with a large dose of awe. Until now the only male Lucas had been in regular contact with was Duncan, the old groom. These massive warriors had suddenly invaded his world like a whirlwind, each of them as impressive as the last, and Lucas was thriving in this masculine world. They were all gruffly kind to the small boy who hung around with such obvious devotion. They tried to answer his nearly endless questions, and one of them had even let Lucus try to pick up his prodigious sword. He worshipped both the knights themselves and the world they came from and would rather die than upset one of his new heroes.

He also knew that it was simply daft to just ignore a direct order when it was given with such calm authority.

“Ah, I’m sorry, my