Page 47 of An Ill-Made Match

Roland grinned, and slid a finger under her jaw, tipping it up. “Only if her performance displeases her groom,” he said, his eyes dropping to her lips again.

Performance? Thankfully the big white dog bounded up again with a loud bark, and Roland was forced to release her and remonstrate with him. “Cease Castor!” he boomed, before seizing the animal and wrestling the large beast to the ground. Eden backed up a few steps in alarm, but after a moment, noticed the dog was wagging his tail even though he was snarling in a terrifying manner. “Daft cur!” Roland laughed, as Castor bestowed a lick to his face. As if to some unspoken signal, the other dogs all pounced en masse, and Roland disappeared under a wave of wagging dog bodies. “Let me up!” he groaned, after a few minutes of rolling on the floorboards with them. “Parnell you rogue, you’ve grown damned heavy.” Eden regarded him speechlessly. Her uncle kept a house-dog, a civilized old thing, but the hunting dogs were kept separately in a pen well away from the Hall and were kept as working dogs, not pets. “Come here,” he said holding out a hand to Eden. “I want them to know your scent.” He was crouched now among a sea of large dogs. Eden approached, determined not to show that she would be much more at home with Lenora’s cats. “Castor!” Roland called and the big white dog he had called Baron Vawdrey’s favorite, stepped forward. “Meet Eden.” Roland took her hand and placed it on the dog’s broad head. The dog emitted a low growl and Roland rebuked him sharply. Castor tossed his head, dislodging her hand and wheeled around to sniff at her fingers. “Aye, that’s it,” Roland said, though she was not sure if he spoke to her or the beast. “Good lad, very good.” The dog, thought Eden. “Now pet him,” he said, still not lifting his eyes from the dog’s face. Oh, now that was directed at her. Hesitantly, Eden extended her fingers toward Castor’s wide brow. He gave a rumble in his throat and Roland seized his scruff, holding him tight. “This is your mistress,” he said sternly. Castor looked up at her, with a proud, scornful look. Of course, the animal did not comprehend the words, she told herself uneasily. “Let him sniff you again,” Roland recommended, loosing the dog who lunged forward and glared up at her tensely, before barking loudly at her. Eden froze as Roland hauled him back again. “You always were a stubborn wretch!” he scolded. “That’s probably enough for now,” he added, straightening up. “It won’t happen overnight.”

Eden nearly jumped out of her skin as a wet doggy nose pushed into her hand. “Hello,” she said to this dog who had a coat of curly sandy hair and a much friendlier aspect. “Who’s this?”

“Parnell,” said Roland. “Hie, Parnell! You’ve a fancy to be a lady’s lap-dog, have you?”

A lap dog? The animal was the size of a sheep! Eden patted his neck and he panted, his tongue lolling out. The other dogs milled around, but didn’t get any closer to her. Clearly, they followed Castor’s lead and not Parnell’s. “An independent thinker, I see,” she murmured, noticing the strong smell of dog that was assailing her nostrils.

“It’s good you like dogs,” said Roland airily. “We Vawdreys have always kept dogs at the Keep.”

Eden could think of no answer to this, instead she turned back to scanning the mysterious objects in the room. Now she noticed it, the large table’s surface was covered in dust as well as an assortment of daggers.

Noticing the direction of her gaze, Roland reached into his belt and then his tunic, extracting two knives which he slung on to the table. “I’ll show you the rest of it,” he said, holding out a hand to her. Mindful of the dogs, she took it, and he drew her in the direction of a side door which revealed a winding staircase. He shut the door firmly behind them, which caused a few barks from the dogs who were shut on the other side of it. “Don’t want them tripping you and breaking your neck.”

Eden frowned. “These steps are quite steep,” she admitted, navigating her way around the curving stairwell.

“Not just that,” he told her, gripping her firmly by the elbow. “Just when you hit your stride you’ll find a trip step.”

“A trip step?” Eden asked, looking back over her shoulder. Her foot hit the next step and she would have stumbled if he had not been there to support her.

“You’ve just found one.”

Eden looked down and found the step that had caught her out was of a different height and breadth to the others.

“It’s a stumbling block for any strangers to the Keep.”

“Intruders again?” Eden asked in exasperation.

“You notice how the staircase runs clockwise?” he asked. “They’re all like that here. It’s so any invaders could not swing their swords.” He placed a palm against the grey stone. “Their blades would strike against these walls, while we defenders would have our right arms free to fight.”

Eden looked down at him in surprise. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Your uncle’s place, Hallam Hall was built as a country residence. This is a fortress.”

“I see.”

“Keep going, but cautiously. In five steps you’ll hit another trip step.”

Eden did not object when he kept a firm grip. Her bade her to ignore the first door they encountered, for they were servant’s quarters. The second door, they passed through, emerging into another large grey stone chamber. This one had two large scarred wooden tables an assortment of benches and a floor scattered in stale, grubby rushes which had likely not been replaced in an age. The windows were mere slits which meant the room was dark and gloomy. Various shields were mounted on the walls which bore the scarlet field and black panther of the Vawdreys. They looked old and battered as though they had all seen service.

Noticing the direction of her gaze, Roland pointed. “My father’s,” he said. “Oswald’s, and Mason’s.”

Eden noticed that Mason’s shield was the plainest, with the same colors, but no heraldic animal, merely the slash of the bar sinister denoting his bastard status. It did not look like that anymore, she thought, now he bore a ducal title. He now had not one, but two beasts on his shield – the leopard of the Cadwalladers as well as the Vawdrey panther. Of course, their older brother, Oswald Vawdrey’s shield would not look like this either, she reflected, now he had been elevated to the role of Earl Vawdrey. His panther would wear a leafy coronet, where his father’s had been bare-headed. These must be relics from the civil war that had torn the country apart some years ago. She turned back to Roland. “Why is your shield not hung here?”

“I did not fight in the war. Was just a boy.” He crossed the room and flung open another door. “Through here.”

“But you have been a knight now for several years,” Eden pointed out, walking toward him. “Why do you not hang your first shield?”

“I’m still using it,” he said shortly.

Noticing his reluctance, Eden let the subject drop, though she was sure he must have got through several shields already, if they were usually as battered in tournament as she had witnessed.

Passing through the door she found herself in another large chamber. This one was dominated by a large fireplace full of ash and soot. There were no other furnishings, save a few scattered chairs of gloomy, dark wood. No tapestries or pictures were hung on the walls to break the monotony of the grey stone. There were no books or musical instruments to be seen. The only cushions were of a dirty grey and were squashed flat on the floor and covered in dog hair.

Eden worked hard to maintain a neutral expression, while her heart plummeted into her slippered feet. Our estate, Roland had said, which had been generous considering the way she had been foisted on him. She didn’t want to be ungrateful. As a Montmayne she had only ever been a poor relation, a dependent. Yet here, at Vawdrey Keep, she would be mistress, which would be a new experience indeed. She could not deny however, the heavy pang of home sickness she felt for the mellow brick of Hallam Hall, or the comforts of life at court. “It’s a fine big hearth,” she said aloud.

“You should see it with a roaring blaze in it,” recommended Roland. She just about bit her lip to stop herself from commenting that no-one had apparently cleaned up after the last one. “Come, I will show you the next floor with the bedchambers.”