Page 79 of Historical Hotties
His heart sank, just a little. He looked down the street to see the old man and his wife, nearly to the village walls by now on their way out of town. Reaching up, he clasped her hands in his big, gloved mitt.
“Did they say anything to you?” he asked gently. “Did they tell you that you should be covered?”
She was starting to weep, struggling desperately not to embarrass herself. “Nay,” she said. “But the way they looked at me… and then they ran… they did not need to say anything. Their actions were enough.”
Cassius was proud of her for coming into town without her usual covering. She showed great courage when he forced her out of her comfort zone. But he could see that he had pushed her too far. He couldn’t control the actions of a few village idiots and he didn’t want to subject her to anything more she might consider embarrassment, so he squeezed her hands and let them go.
“Very well,” he said. “If you want to return home, then we shall. Mayhap you will feel like going to the merchant when we return to collect our rings.”
She simply nodded, wiping at the corner of her eye, and he felt like a monster for forcing her into town without the comfort she was used to. It was a learning process for them both, but he knew she would do whatever he asked her to do, whether or not she was comfortable with it, simply to please him. And, being a man who was used to having his way in all things, he didn’t even realize it until they had moments like this.
Now, he felt terrible.
Turning for his horse, he lifted a hand to Rhori and Bose.
“We are returning to the castle,” he said. “I… I suppose I am feeling a bit weary. I think I have had enough excitement for today.”
No one questioned him. They assumed the lady’s upset was because of Cassius’ condition, so Rhori and Bose began moving the escort out, heading back the way they had come.
Dacia kept her head down. It seemed that people were still looking at her, pointing and whispering, and now she knew that it was because she wasn’t covered up. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at anyone, more ashamed than she had ever been in her life. Mayhap she could go out in public, in any other city, without covering on her face, but here in Doncaster… there was history here, with people knowing about the duke’s marked granddaughter.
She was glad to be going home.
The escort moved towards the gate, passing from the avenue of the smithies and coming upon the church. Dacia wasn’t paying any attention to her surroundings, too afraid that someone might see her freckles and run away from her, so she kept her head down, following the knights with the soldiers riding around her. She was counting the seconds until they were able to get free of the town.
But that countdown stopped when someone was blocking their path.
“Halt!” someone shouted. “Dacia of Doncaster, you will show yourself!”
Dacia’s head shot up. She had to look around Cassius’ enormous form, since he was directly in front of her, but she could see one of the priests from St. George’s blocking the escort. Curious, she reined her palfrey forward.
“I am Dacia,” she said. “I have seen you before. You are new to St. George’s.”
The priest was tall, with silver hair, dressed in immaculate brown woolen robes. He pointed to the ground.
“They told me you had come to town,” he said. “Get off your horse, Woman. Come here and face me.”
“You will address her as Lady Dacia, Priest,” Cassius growled. “Use that tone with her again and you’ll not like my reaction. She remains on her horse until I say otherwise. What do you want?”
The priest lifted his chin at Cassius, looking him over. “Who are you?”
“Sir Cassius de Wolfe,” Cassius answered without hesitation. “My master is King Edward himself, as I hold the position of Lord Protector to the king. Now, who are you and why are you making demands of the lady?”
He said it in the most unfriendly way possible, conveying to the priest the pain and anguish the man would suffer if he continued along his present path where Dacia was concerned. Even Argos, who had been so contentedly traveling beside Dacia, trotted forward and growled at the priest. But the priest wasn’t looking at the dog; he was looking at Cassius.
“Then it is you,” he said. “Youare the one. You will come here and face me, also.”
Cassius was becoming exasperated. He had no idea what the man was talking about. “Get out of my way,” he said. “If you do not move, I will trample you, so it would be best to do as I say.”
He started to move forward, as did the rest of the column, but that seemed to throw the priest over the edge. He backed up, but he didn’t get out of the way.
“You cannot run and you cannot hide, Dacia of Doncaster,” he boomed. “I know your dark soul and if you do not repent immediately, hell awaits you!”
Cassius looked at Bose, who was off his horse in a flash, grabbing the priest by the neck and tossing the man aside. But at this point, there were other priests who had heard theyelling and had come to see what the fuss was about. As Bose manhandled a priest who was surprisingly strong and resistant, Dacia saw a priest that she recognized.
Father Lazarus had been with St. George’s as long as Dacia had been alive and he knew her grandfather well. It was Father Lazarus who put up his hands, trying desperately to prevent Bose from breaking the neck of the silver-haired priest. Confused and concerned by what was going on, Dacia reined her palfrey to a halt.
“Wait, Cass,” she said. “Something is not right. Wait a moment, please.”
