Thrill Of The Knight Page 13

  And she was destined to marry him.

  To look at the man she was supposed to give herself to had a strange reality to it. She had spent the last eleven years of her life imagining herself married to another man, one so perfect in form and face and comportment.

  But John Russell had far too many flaws, too many deceptions. After all, might he really have taken his family’s money? And if he had, how could she marry him?

  They were invited to the local tavern for supper, and this time John accepted without even glancing at her. Apparently he didn’t want to eat alone with her again. As if she could ever go back to the dappled glade by the stream without remembering—

  The pleasure of his kiss?

  Or the eventual feelings of betrayal it had resulted in?

  The tavern was hot and crowded, with so many farmers in the village for the day. Elizabeth, who’d been to the king’s court in London, had never been allowed inside such a place before, and she found herself curious. She took in the beamed ceiling hung with hams and strings of onions, and she watched John good-naturedly dodge around them. She wished she knew how much of his behavior was for the part he was playing.

  Hugh brought them to a table near the wall. There were few women here except the serving maids, so Elizabeth found herself standing uncertainly as the men began sliding onto benches. John would have to remain on the end, due to his “broken” leg, so she slid in next to Hugh, and John pushed in against her. She was shocked how easily people seemed to forget that she was the earl’s daughter. Perhaps she looked so different in her plain garments and wimple that they had already forgotten the truth. Since she was used to being deferred to, more than once she almost gave an order, especially where the seating arrangements were concerned.

  She tried not to touch Hugh too familiarly, so that put her against John, whose hip was pressed to hers. Their shoulders overlapped, or rubbed against each other as they moved. Serving maids handed out tankards of beer, and the men raised them in salute to their own bailiff ’s improving health. Elizabeth tried to take small sips, but the beer was potent, and she was soon feeling rather pleased with the world.

  “Sir John,” Hugh said, wiping the foam from his lip, “what part of the country do ye come from?”

  “Cornwall,” John answered.

  As John leaned forward to see around her, his arm briefly brushed the side of her breast. She froze, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was watching Hugh with interest.

  “Is it so different than our rolling hills?” Hugh asked.

  As long as John wasn’t touching her intimately, she was able to pay attention. And she was interested. It had been a long time since her year at Rame Castle. She found it sad to imagine it neglected.

  “My village is on a cliff above the sea,” John said. “We spend much of our lives in boats riding waves to catch fish to feed our families.”

  That didn’t sound like the truth for him personally.

  “There is always wind, and storms are frequent, but ’tis a beautiful place. Yet the sea makes one think of wandering, and in my youth, I traveled much in my quest to become a knight.”

  “And ye still travel as a bailiff,” Hugh said, smiling.

  John leaned toward Hugh as if to impart a confidence, and she held her breath as his arm pressed and stayed against her breast.

  “Wandering has always called to my soul,” John said.

  She could barely concentrate on his words, so warm was she becoming, so much did her flesh tingle at his touch. But she sensed that he was telling the truth.

  “Each day is different,” John continued. “Each place is new and exotic and a thing to be explored and mastered. And the women are never the same.”

  All the men at the table laughed. John openly elbowed her, everyone laughed harder, but at least his arm was no longer riding her intimately. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed or cared.

  She remembered that he had left home at sixteen. Could such a man be content at Castle Alderley? Or did he want the money to finance his travels?

  She told herself she had always wanted a husband who would go off to court regularly, leaving the running of the estate to her. William would have been such a man.

  But strangely, the thought of John doing so made her uneasy and sad now.

  Surely she was only missing the life she’d planned with William.

  On the journey home, the cart contained a small coffer of coins, so the guards rode one in front, one behind, as they watched the hills, the hedgerows, and occasional woodland for thieves. The rain had let up, and the setting sun peaked through the low clouds directly ahead of them. Elizabeth shielded her eyes and saw John squinting, but he drove without complaint.

  She again felt uncomfortable sitting so close beside him. Her nerves were still frayed from the endless touching they’d shared in the tavern, and she found herself sullen that he hadn’t seemed to be bothered. After all, didn’t that prove that he hadn’t really desired her, had been flirting with her only out of necessity?

  But then she realized he was sitting at the absolute edge of the cart, as if he didn’t want to touch her either. She tried not to feel too pleased. Surely it was only the beer she’d drunk, giving her fanciful notions.

  “What is Lady Elizabeth like?” John suddenly asked.

  Taken by surprise, she saw the ghost of her deception rise between them. She reminded herself he deserved it.

  “You spent a year living in the same castle with her,” she said primly.

  “And she turned eleven in that time. I barely knew her.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because she did not have time for me. William was the shining beacon of the family.”

  There was irony in his tone that reminded her of the lies he thought his brother capable of. Was John jealous that she had paid no attention to him? Or did he only want her because his brother had her?

  “You wanted to spend time with an eleven-year-old girl?” she asked slowly.

  “I thought she was…amusing.” He sighed. “And lovely. I am quite certain she grew into a beautiful woman.”

  Elizabeth looked down for a moment. “And is beauty so important to you?”

  “Nay, although, forgive me if I offend you, but is it to her?”

  She stiffened. “I do not understand.”

  “She knew nothing about William. He was eight years older than she, and had no time for little girls. But all he had to do was smile at her…” His voice faded away, and then he smiled. “Ah, but I am not perfect. I fear I was the same with her.”

  Anyone could say such a thing to win a woman’s favor, she thought. He probably expected her to run and tell her mistress, easing the way for him. But still she felt…flustered.

  “With me, Lady Elizabeth will not have to worry about other women swooning over the beauty of my face.” He laughed quietly.

  Did he want a compliment from her? She didn’t understand his motives, so she didn’t respond to that.

  “Lady Elizabeth is an adult,” she said. “She knows a person’s worth is in deeds and speech, not beauty.” Although she felt a little guilty saying that, because William’s beauty had often swayed her. But it was his sensitive, romantic soul she enjoyed the most. “She will not care about the scar on your face.”

  “’Tis good. I don’t want her to think I’d frighten our children.”

  Children. Elizabeth shivered. She was a woman raised in the countryside, where plenty of animals roamed, and knew some of what was involved in begetting children. She couldn’t even look at him, imagining such intimacies, imagining his nude body.

  To distract herself, she asked, “How was your face scarred?”

  “During a tournament, a melee. Swarms of men in armor chasing each other with swords across a field, all for the enjoyment of spectators.”

  “I always thought those particularly barbaric, especially when so many good men were hurt.”

  “My helm was knocked off, and three men who I regularly defeate
d in individual competition decided to have their revenge.”

  She winced.

  He grinned. “I’m grateful they missed my eye.”

  “Does it bother you being…disfigured?”

  “Does it bother you that I am?”

  She reared back. “Why should my opinion matter?”

  “I learned that it did not affect how most women saw me—commoners anyway. And you are one.”

  “And are the titled more ill-behaved?” she asked, offended.

  “Sometimes, aye.”

  “Which is why you asked about Lady Elizabeth.”

  He shrugged.

  “You make too many assumptions about her,” she said coldly. “She owes you nothing, especially after the way you treated me.”

  “I will write to her. I vow I will change her mind about me.”

  “’Twill be more difficult than you think,” Elizabeth said.

  Suddenly, she heard a strange sound behind her, and both she and John turned in time to see the stunned expression on the second soldier’s face as he stared at the arrow imbedded in his chest.

  Before the soldier had even toppled off his horse, John was already pushing Elizabeth face first onto the floor of the cart as he shouted, “Attack!” to the lead guard.

  She spat out straw, her heart pounding as she peered over the edge. The soldier in front wheeled his horse about just as an arrow shot past him and was buried in a tree.

  “Anne, stay here!” John commanded in a voice she knew she could only obey. He took the dagger from his waist and put it into her hand.

  “But will you not need this?” she cried.

  He ignored her. There were shouts in the forest now, but she only had eyes for John, who vaulted over the bench, ran across the back of the cart and flung himself at the riderless horse. She gasped as his torso hit the saddle. But instead of falling, all in one motion he pulled himself upright and unsheathed a sword from the scabbard attached to the saddle. Though the horse was crazed and fought his mastery as it flung itself in a circle, John dominated and controlled it, then lay low over its neck as he rode to join the other soldier. Several arrows missed their mark as the two men galloped into the sparse trees toward the source of the attack.

  Elizabeth clutched the edge of the cart and the dagger, squinting into the trees to see what was going on. She could hear both men and horses screaming, and she said a quick prayer for John’s safety. He emerged, galloping across the road as he chased a thief who ran for his life. With the hilt of his sword, he hit him across the head, and the thief dropped face-first onto the ground and lay unmoving.

  In the fading light, she watched in awe as John wheeled his horse about on its hind legs to return to the woodland. In his face there was no fear, just determination, exultation, and a fierce triumph that made him look like a stranger to her. In that moment, she saw him as a knight, a conqueror of tournaments and battlefields, a man confident in his skill.

  She felt shaken and disturbed, and didn’t know what to believe about him—or how he, one man with only three soldiers, thought he could rescue her from Bannaster’s imprisonment. But at least she understood where his confidence came from.

  The cart suddenly shook beneath her, and she turned in time to see a thief climbing onto the back. He was small and wiry, dirty hair wild about his scruffy face. She crouched on her knees, showing him her dagger as if she knew how to use it. He only gave a gap-toothed grin and continued to advance.

  She couldn’t seem to get enough air as she gasped openmouthed. Her mind flew with questions—should she go for the thief ’s chest or legs or even his hands as he reached for her? Where was John?

  But before she needed to make a decision, two men rose up from each side of the cart, as if they’d been crouched beneath it. She screamed, knowing there was no way she could battle three of them. But to her shock, the newcomers gripped the first thief and flung him out of the cart. As he landed headfirst on the ground, his neck gave a sickening twist, and he lay still.

  Elizabeth gaped at the two men and threatened them with her dagger. They grinned at each other, and to her surprise she realized one of them was chewing on the end of his mustache.

  “Mistress, I be Ogden,” said the man with the mustache, “and this be Parker. We’re Sir John’s men.”

  Parker glanced into the woods, where the sound of battle grew fainter. “Just give it to ’er. We ’ave to go.”

  She tensed, but all Ogden did was show her a rolled piece of parchment. “We’ve been tryin’ to find the right moment to see Sir John today. Might ye give this to him?”

  “Come no nearer,” she commanded. “Set it down in the cart.”

  Ogden did as she bid, nodding his encouragement. “Ye done good, mistress. We’ll watch ye from the trees to make sure none harm ye before Sir John returns.”

  She didn’t allow herself to relax even though they did melt into the woodland and seem to disappear. Hearing horses galloping behind her, she whirled about and held her dagger with increasing menace.

  John and Bannaster’s soldier both pulled up in surprise.

  “Are there any more?” she demanded, hating that her voice shook.

  “Nay, Anne,” John said. One corner of his mouth lifted. “Milburn owes you much for your valiant defense of the rent money.”

  She blinked down at the coffer, having totally forgotten that it was money the thieves wanted more than her. Sinking back onto the bench, she hung her head to her chest and just tried to breathe.

  She and John were both safe. Her stomach felt light and queasy, and she put a hand there as if to hold all her emotions inside. She saw Bannaster’s soldier eyeing John with grudging respect.

  “Me thanks, Sir John,” the man said. “’Tis a shame ye ever left behind the life of a knight.”

  John swung off the horse, staggered on his “broken” leg, and caught himself on the saddle. Elizabeth arched a brow at his playacting. The soldier dropped to the ground to help prop him up. John, his face streaming with perspiration and dirt, looked at her over the soldier’s shoulder and grinned.

  “Rest yerself, Sir John,” said the soldier. “I’ll put poor Baldwin in the cart. We’ll leave the rest for the wolves.”

  “The one on the road is only unconscious,” John said. “Tie him up and bring him along for your captain. Perhaps he can tell you more about the thieves’ operation.”

  At last they were on their way back to Alderley. Elizabeth had earlier managed to tuck the rolled parchment into her sleeve. She only offered it to John when they were within sight of the castle, and the soldier had gone ahead.

  He frowned down at it as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his arm. “What is that?”

  “Two men named Ogden and Parker saved my life and left it for you.”

  He ignored the missive to stare into her eyes with concern. “You are unharmed?”

  She nodded. “Although I was about to stab a thief before they arrived.”

  “I’m certain you would have,” he said, a smile returning to his face. “You are a fierce woman.”

  They were almost to the castle walls. He slid the missive into his tunic unread, and she silently cursed, her curiosity unsatisfied.

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, while John was meeting with Milburn, Elizabeth walked down to the tiltyard. She did not see John’s man-at-arms training, so she went to the armory and found Philip inside alone, cataloguing the equipment. With no windows, the room was dark, but for the candle on a shelf.

  “Excuse me…Philip?” Elizabeth said.

  He looked up from his books, and then smiled at her. “Mistress Anne.” He glanced behind her. “Sir John is not keeping you at his side?”

  She stiffened. “Your master is meeting with the steward about collecting the rent at Hillesley.”

  His smile was mysterious. “He tells me it went well—but for the attack, of course.”

  She shrugged. “Is there someplace we can talk and no
t worry about being disturbed?”

  He arched a brow, but nodded and set down his account book. “We have privacy for the moment, but anyone could walk in. Come walk with me, and we can watch the knights train.”

  The walked to the far end of the tiltyard, where a bench rested near the curtain wall. Elizabeth had resolved to find out more about John than he could tell her, but now sitting here beside his fellow knight—his friend—she almost didn’t know where to begin.

  “I know you call yourself Philip,” Elizabeth began slowly, “but is that your real name?”

  He smiled at her, his expression amused. “I am Sir Philip Clifford.”

  “And you didn’t mind pretending to be someone else for John’s sake?”

  His smile faded a bit, and he watched her seriously. “All he had to do was ask. I owe him my loyalty.” He grinned. “I owe him my life many times over.”

  “And now so do I,” she murmured. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “You have been traveling with him?”

  “For four years.” He cocked his head at her. “Are you conducting an interview on your lady’s behalf?”

  She lowered her eyes. “Not exactly an interview…”

  “Research, then?”

  “It is difficult for her, locked in a tower, to discover that the man she is to marry is here.”

  “And that he’s lied about his identity,” Philip said shrewdly.

  She shrugged. “She understands the necessity, but…”

  Elizabeth trailed off, and to her surprise, Philip was watching her with compassion and sympathy.

  “But perhaps you don’t understand the necessity of all John did,” he said.

  She felt herself blush. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with a stranger, even a kind one. “Philip, Sir John tells me that he traveled Europe working as a mercenary, or competing in tournaments for prize money. That is how he made his living?”