Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) by Kathryn Le Veque Read Free Book Online

Byron’s answer all the more interesting.
    “There is, actually,” he replied
casually. “First, you will tell me why you sent word back to Ingilby that you
would personally confront the man if he tried to make contact again with the
Lady Chloë de Geld.”
    Normally unflappable, Keir
struggled not to appear confused or defensive. “It was a threat made in the
heat of combat and nothing more,” he replied evenly. “I thought perhaps it
would force Ingilby to think twice before molesting the woman again or trying to
attack her family if he believed another knight was involved, someone of power
and rank.”
    Byron wriggled his eyebrows in
agreement. “Perhaps,” he replied, “but I fear that all you have succeeded in
doing is informing Ingilby that Coverdale is now involved.  If he finds out
Lady Chloë is no longer at Exelby, he will assume she has gone to Aysgarth. It
would be the logical assumption.”
    Keir looked at him. “Perhaps, my
lord,” he agreed without remorse. “But Aysgarth can take care of herself.
Moreover, I doubt Ingilby would risk conflict with you. Your military might is
well known.”
    Byron pulled back on the reins
when his feisty horse acted up. “Even so, her father is worried about her. This
entire siege was because of her. He wants her safety tucked away.”
    “And she will be at Aysgarth.”
    “She will be better protected at
Pendragon.”
    Keir looked at the man as if he
had physically struck him.  The normally cool demeanor flared as he stiffened
in outrage. The first words on his lips were those of refusal but he knew that
he could not; Pendragon was Coverdale’s castle and he could do with it as he
pleased.  If Byron wanted the girl to go to Pendragon because he felt it was
safer for her, then Keir would have no say in the matter. The thought of Lady
Chloë within walls that had seen so much hell and happiness for Keir left the
man reeling with shock.
    Byron looked at the knight,
seeing the fury on his normally emotionless face, and he merely shook his head.
    “It is a perfect place to hide
the girl, and her sister as well,” he told him. “Moreover, you brought this
upon yourself when you volunteered to protect her. Her father demands you keep
your word. He is very worried for her.”
    Keir was  close to exploding; his
granite jaw ticked furiously and he looked away, struggling not to open his
mouth and spill forth all of the refusal he was feeling with every fiber of his
body.
    “I should not have said what I
did,” he hissed.
    “Are you going back on your word?
I find that astonishing.”
    Keir faltered. His word was
stronger than anyone else’s in the north of England and he had made damn sure
to cement that careful reputation.  He never said anything he did not mean and
a vow from St. Hèver was bankable. He had the trust of anyone he had ever met,
fought with or served.  It was perhaps the strongest part of a strong man,
something he did not wish to see damaged even in something as small as this. It
was his crutch, his curse, his pride.  After several long moments, he sighed
heavily.
    “I only said that I should not
have said it,” he clarified. “I did not say that I did not mean it.  I said it
because the girl was terrified. She had just seen her castle ripped apart and
men killed all because a jilted suitor could not stomach her denial. I said it
to bring her comfort.”
    Byron was not oblivious to the
things young men said in overwhelming situations.  He drew in a deep,
thoughtful breathe and tried to rein his excitable jennet close to Keir so that
he could speak and not be heard by others.
    “The Lady Chloë de Geld is one of
the most sought-after women in all of England, a beauty without compare, but I
do not suppose you noticed that,” he glanced at Keir only to note the man
facing straight ahead, features like stone.  He continued. “Her father is
understandably worried about her and he knows you by reputation.  He has asked
that you hold true