Forbidden: Claude (Second in Command #2)(3)

“Why not, Father?” asked little Charlotte, looking up with big blue eyes.

“Because your father almost died there,” Celestine told her, reaching down to pull her daughter closer.

John rubbed his shoulder that had at one time been shot with an arrow right before he was thrown from his horse and was left dangling off the edge of a cliff in France.

“Who tried to kill him?” asked Charlotte in a squeaky little voice filled with concern.

John faked a cough, shaking his head, warning Celestine not to tell the child that Celestine had been the one to almost do him in.

“Charlotte, come here,” said Claude, bending over and holding out his arms. Charlotte ran to him and he scooped her up, holding her in one arm as he tickled her with the other. Claude had been fifteen years old when his sister was born. He had lived most of his life as an only child. Charlotte laughed and pushed Claude’s hand away and then reached out and mussed his hair.

“She’s a real feisty one, isn’t she?” asked Felix with a chuckle.

“She gets that from her mother,” said John. Celestine playfully hit John on the shoulder. He slipped his arm around her waist and turned and headed for the horses. “Let’s get back to the castle for the celebration.”

Claude was surprised by the crowd on the docks today. There were also plenty of ships in the harbor. He put Charlotte on the ground and held her hand as they walked. “Is there a trade fair going on?” he asked his father.

“Nay, why do you ask?” John answered over his shoulder.

“I can’t believe how crowded it is on the port of Sandwich today.”

“They’re here for the celebration,” John told him, helping Celestine to mount a horse and then mounting one as well. “Claude, we brought a horse for you. Charlotte can ride back to the castle with you, but your squire will have to walk.”

“Felix, meet us at the castle,” said Claude, lifting his sister up into the saddle.

“Aye, my lord,” said Felix with a nod. “I will make certain your things are transferred to the castle from the ship.”

Claude pulled himself up behind Charlotte. “My, Charlotte, I had no idea you were so important that all these people are coming to celebrate your birthday.”

“I’m going to be eight,” Charlotte announced.

“Yes, I know,” said Claude, turning the horse.

“Claude, wait.” His mother rode to his side. “I think you have the wrong impression why I’ve called you to Sandwich.”

“The missive said you wanted me here to participate in the celebration and that Charlotte was looking forward to it. I figured you were talking about her birthday.”

“I did say that, but it wasn’t just Charlotte’s birthday I meant.”

“It wasn’t?” Claude chuckled. “Well, I know it’s not your birthday, and neither is it Father’s, so what do you mean? I don’t make a journey to England for anyone unless they are important to me.”

“That’s right,” said John. “That is why your mother sent for you even though I told her it was a bad idea.”

“What was a bad idea?” asked Claude, feeling a knot forming in his stomach. Somehow, he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. “What is it we are celebrating?”

“Hello, Claude,” came a voice from a horse and cart that pulled up next to him. Claude slowed his horse and turned around. His eyes fell on Lady Rose sitting inside the cart next to another woman who was driving.

“Rose.” His voice came out barely above a whisper. Instantly, he became tongue-tied and didn’t know what to say. His heart sped up, and the pounding of his pulse in his ears grew deafening.

Here was Rose, no longer a young girl like when he’d left her. Instead, she was a curvy, beautiful woman. Her long, blond hair was pulled back in a braid, and her bright blue eyes twinkled in the sunlight as she smiled at him. Dressed in a burgundy velvet gown, she looked like a princess with the metal, jeweled circlet on her head.

“It is such a surprise to see you,” she told him, sounding very pleased. Her voice was soft and sweet, just how he’d remembered. “This is my nursemaid, Evelina,” she said, nodding toward the woman next to her, but Claude wasn’t looking at anyone but Rose.

Finally, Claude found the words to speak. “My mother sent me a message to come to England. She told me she would not take no for answer. I am here for the birthday celebration,” he told her.

“I didn’t think you’d come since you never even sent a missive when my brothers Dunmor and Harry were born.”

A little boy popped his head up over the back of the wagon seat. Big, brown eyes stared at him in question.

“I’ll bet you’re Harry,” said Claude. “Where are your brothers?” Claude only knew one of Rose’s brothers. When he trained as his father’s squire for two years, Rose’s brother, Torrence, had been born to her father and his new Scottish wife, Isobel.

“Yes, this is Harry, but he is shy and doesn’t talk to strangers,” Rose explained. “Today is his birthday, and he is four years old.”

It didn’t feel right to Claude when Rose referred to him as a stranger, but he realized that was precisely what he was. He had left when Rose married Toft, never having the courage to return. It had been too hard to watch Rose being in love with Toft when all he ever wanted was for her to be in love with him.