“Send Dustin to me,” he said softly.
Eyeing de Velt, Edward stood up from the table and left the hall, taking the stairs just inside the entry to the living quarters above. Jax watched the man go and when he disappeared from view, he couldn’t help but look to Christopher curiously. Christopher smiled weakly and picked up the pitcher of wine.
“A moment, please,” he said, pouring more into Jax’s cup as he shifted the subject. “I purchased this wine in London last fall. It comes from a region in France where the monks tend these tiny dark grapes. My wife is quite fond of it but I warn you, it will get you drunk quite fast if you do not pace yourself. That has happened to me a few times.”
Jax took his cup and drank deeply. “It is very good,” he said. “Sweet. My wife would like it as well, as she tends to like sweet wines. Anything else puts her to sleep.”
Christopher set the pitcher down and collected his own cup. “Tell me of your wife,” he said. “What is her name?”
“Kellington,” Jax replied. “Lady Kellington Coleby de Velt.”
“And how did your marriage come about? Were your families allies?”
Jax tried not to look too embarrassed. “Nay,” he grunted, appearing somewhat uncomfortable. “One of those castles I confiscated… she was a captive.”
Christopher was amused. “I suppose that is one way to meet women,” he said. “Did you force her to marry you?”
Jax struggled not to grin. “We fell in love,” he said. “After I had killed all of her friends, of course. It would be fair to say that our beginnings were quite rough, but in spite of everything, we managed to become fond of each other. I have loved the woman madly for twenty-five years.”
Christopher grinned. “You sincerely do not appear to me like the killer of legend,” he said. “You seem quite normal, in fact, because only a man with feeling and conscience would admit to loving a woman. I still can hardly believe you are Ajax de Velt, the Beast Who Destroyed the Marches.”
Jax let his smile break free, grinning at Christopher over the top of his wine cup. “I will tell you a secret.”
“What?”
“I really would not have gone after Lioncross Abbey those years ago. There are some men I will attack and some I will not. I am not entirely sure I would be victorious over you, so it is better not to try.”
Christopher started to laugh. “I was not at Lioncross twenty-five years ago,” he said. “My wife’s father was the lord at that time and, I hate to say, you probably could have bested him. But I am glad you did not.”
Jax’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you mean to tell me that I missed a grand opportunity?”
They were snorting when Edward appeared in the hall again, followed by a woman clad in a fine linen surcoat. Jax turned to look at her. She was petite, with a glorious curvy figure and a mass of blond hair that trailed all the way to her knees. As she drew closer, Jax could see that she was truly an exquisite woman, exceptionally beautiful. The woman approached the table, looking at Jax rather curiously. Christopher held out a hand to her.
“My lady, thank you for coming,” he said, kissing her hand before turning to Jax. “My lord, this is my wife, the Lady Dustin Barringdon de Lohr. Dustin, this is Sir Ajax de Velt. He is our guest.”
Dustin’s curious expression faded somewhat. Like everyone else on the Marches, or in England for that matter, she recognized the name. She didn’t quite remember what she knew of him, but she had definitely heard the name. Something told her there wasn’t a good association with it, but those years back when Jax had been tearing up the Marches, she had been far too young to remember.
“Welcome to Lioncross, my lord,” she said. Then, she turned to her husband. “Did you need to speak with me?”
Christopher continued to hold her hand, not putting it against his cheek. “Indeed,” he said, eyeing Jax. “It would seemthat de Velt has a problem. A terrible man has abducted his daughter and he has asked me to mediate. What do you think of that?”
Dustin was immediately swamped with sympathy and outrage. It was written all over her face. She looked at Jax.
“I am so terribly sorry to hear that,” she said sincerely. “How old is your daughter?”
Something about the woman reminded him of Kellington, although he couldn’t put his finger on it. There was something in her eyes, a flame of strength that burned within the depths. Allaston had that flame, too.
“She has seen nineteen years, my lady,” he replied. “She was a novice nun at Alberbury Priory.”
Distress creased Dustin’s features. “She is so young,” she said sadly. “Who is this man who has abducted her?”
“A mercenary,” Christopher answered softly. “He is using the girl to lure Jax to him. He has a vendetta against the man, so de Velt has asked me to intervene. He wants his daughter back and wishes to keep his life in the process.”
“Of course he does,” Dustin said vehemently. “What does he want you to do?”
“Talk to the mercenary, I believe,” he said, looking at Jax. “Is that what you meant?”
Jax nodded. “I was hoping you would.”
