One Knight Only Read online

  “Does he look like you?”

  He closed his eyes, and the pain that he always kept buried in another part of his heart now seemed too real. “I was already in France with Kelshall when I heard that she was with child. He was so proud as he told me her missive said that the babe looked just like her, fair hair and all. I think she wrote that so I would know. And perhaps he’s not even mine, but when Kelshall said today that she’d never had another…”

  It had felt even more real. When he’d thought she’d had a half-dozen children, he’d been able to assume that the first child wasn’t his.

  “Have you ever seen him?” she asked.

  He shook his head, and then pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t want to. Maybe I’ve left a good part of myself in the world, the best deed I could have accomplished. Perhaps I’m the one who made her a mother and gave joy to her days.”

  He lifted his head to look back at the cottage, and she held his waist tighter, as if she didn’t want him to go.

  “I was always ashamed that my father was just a man who labored at a menial task, not a soldier, not a knight. And now I am the recipient of my own prejudices—if my son ever knew what I was, he would be ashamed.”

  “Philip—”

  “Nay, you do not have to point out my folly,” he said, letting his hands slide down her neck to rest on her shoulders.

  “You were so young, too young to understand,” she insisted.

  “And it took me a long time to mature, to realize that my father might not be a knight, but he was his own man, who stood up to thieves to protect his family, and died for it, because he was only one man against many. I couldn’t help him.”

  Her fingers touched his face, and she rose on tiptoes. It seemed so natural to bend to her, to kiss her gently, to taste the saltiness of her tears on her lips. Beneath that, she tasted of sunshine and sweetness, and he wanted to lose himself in the warm curves of her lips. With each kiss, she opened more fully to him, until he held her tight against him. He pushed her until her back was against the apple tree he’d once spent hours in. Their tongues eagerly mated, and he could feel the pounding of her heart against his.

  She was not resisting him, and he let passion sweep away the other emotions he didn’t want to feel. He pulled her away from the tree and pushed her back into the tall, overgrown grass. She fell back and reached for him, and he tumbled down on top of her, catching most of his weight on his hands and knees. They came together in a clutch of arms and legs until he lay between her thighs. Their kisses were open-mouthed and frantic, and she wrapped one leg around him, her foot pressing into his ass. She moaned and writhed as his hands roamed her body, his palms filled to overflowing with her breasts. Her nipples were tight against his palms. She suddenly rolled, flattening another patch of grass as she rose above him. When she reached for his breeches, he caught her hands.

  “Anne, remember where we are,” he whispered, staring up regretfully at the beauty of her passionate face and her wild hair. “I don’t want your first time to be like this.”

  She leaned over him, her hands kneading his chest. He groaned.

  “You will be my first time,” she said hoarsely.

  “You’re a virgin, Anne.”

  “And there will be no husband to save my virginity for.”

  And she didn’t seem sad about it, which only made him hotter, harder. With a groan, he pushed up between her thighs, the length of him cradled in her hot moistness.

  “Lady Rosamond?”

  The distant call came from the front of the cottage. Philip vaguely recognized Walter’s voice. Yet he was so overcome with need, he almost pulled Anne down to hush her until they were gone.

  He tried to remember who he’d fought so hard to become. He’d spent much of his life proving himself to other people, first the Kelshall soldiers, then the earl and the League, and then his friend John, Lord Alderley. And now he was trying to be worthy of some wellborn wife who didn’t even know yet.

  And here was Anne, offering herself for their mutual pleasure. It was hard to remember his honor when she looked at him with dark, hot eyes.

  When Walter called again, she rose unsteadily to her feet, smoothing down her skirts. As he stood up, he saw that her hands were trembling as she fingered her hair into place, pinning her headdress. Her mouth was wet; her breasts rose and fell with a rapidity that almost undid him.

  “I guess we’re going to be escorted to the castle,” she said ruefully.

  He admired how normal she sounded, when he himself was still burning with emotions, with the past, and with desire.

  Anne somehow made it through supper, having to smile mysteriously, and laugh with that throatiness that seemed to make men think differently about her. She could be Lady Rosamond, while at the same time, inside, she was simply Anne, thinking about the secret Philip had carried for the last six years—and the secret passion that burned between them.

  Sir Robert Ludlow, blond and earnest, distracted her after supper with a song in her honor; the lords Hungerford and Kelshall took turns leading her in dance. When Sir Robert interceded again, she laughed and allowed him to lead her away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Philip talking with a man she didn’t recognize, and she hoped he was letting himself be distracted from the memories this place brought out in him.

  “Lady Rosamond?”

  She gave a start, realizing that Sir Robert had said her name more than once. “Forgive me, sir.”

  He smiled and patted her hand where it rested in his. “I asked if I could distract you with a game of Tables.”

  He was leading her to where the game board was set up. There were long rows with round playing pieces lined up on them, and she looked at it with regret.

  “I’m afraid I’ve never learned how, Sir Robert.”

  He seemed astonished. “I thought every young noblewoman learned this entertaining game.”

  Elizabeth had tried to teach her, but Anne had always felt such frivolity not suitable for a maidservant. Her evenings had been for sewing, or preparing Elizabeth’s garments for the next day.

  But now, she just smiled prettily and shrugged.

  “I will play you, Sir Robert.” Philip approached her from behind.

  It was all Anne could do not to blush with yearning.

  “Then Lady Rosamond can learn as she watches,” he added.

  As the two knights sat on either side of the game board, Lord Kelshall approached and looked down at them all fondly. “My daughter Beatrice taught Philip to play long ago. She was so very patient.” He clapped Philip on the back. “Perhaps she is teaching her son, now, eh?”

  Anne watched Philip, but all he did was smile and nod, as pleasant as always.

  He would never know if the child was truly his. But he had come to peace with it, she told herself. Lady Beatrice had asked a sacrifice of him, and in the name of friendship, he had acquiesced. Anne did not want to think of him in the arms of another woman, but like all men, he could not be innocent at his age.

  But Lady Beatrice had taken his innocence even as she’d given her own. And she’d made Philip a traitor to the man he’d worshiped as a father. Anne could not forgive her for that.

  When Anne retired to her chamber, she couldn’t sleep. It bothered her that they were all just assuming that Lord Kelshall couldn’t be involved in the treason, just because he had helped raise Philip. Only last year, a king had lost his throne and his life. What if Lord Kelshall had been King Richard’s loyal friend? Would he not feel compelled to seek revenge? She could not ask Philip to look into this; it would hurt him to imagine Lord Kelshall as a suspect. Anne would do it herself.

  Outside her door, Joseph was her guard, and she invited him in and explained her worries.

  “What do you think we can do about this, Lady Rosamond?” Joseph asked with suspicion.

  “You stayed downstairs longer than the rest of us, did you not?”

  He only nodded.

  “Were you keeping watch o
n the hall for a reason?”

  His gaze slid away. “Not for any reason in particular.”

  “So where was Kelshall when you came upstairs?”

  “Going to his private solar with Hungerford and Ludlow.”

  “The three of them alone together?” she said, feeling a coldness settle in her stomach.

  “There may be three traitors, my lady,” Joseph said patiently. “But they know someone overheard them. I cannot imagine they would congregate together and risk implicating themselves.”

  “How do we know Hungerford and Ludlow aren’t some of the men who’ve been following us?”

  “We can’t know, but the odds against—”

  “I want to go to Kelshall’s private solar. Perhaps we can hear what is being said outside the door.”

  “That is too dangerous,” he said stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest.

  “If they discover me, I can say I was simply looking for them. Men enjoy that.”

  She thought his handsome face almost cracked into a smile, but he held onto his discipline.

  “My lady, I cannot allow you to do this.”

  Sweeping past him, she opened the door. “We will be safe, I promise you.”

  He put his arm around her waist and lifted her right off the floor.

  Philip stepped into the doorway and came to an abrupt halt.

  Though his face showed no expression, Anne knew him well enough to sense his stiffness, his…jealousy? She pushed against Joseph’s arm, feeling her ribs creak.

  Joseph put her down, cleared his throat, and spoke softly. “Philip, perhaps you can talk sense into her. She wants to eavesdrop on Kelshall to prove he’s not…”

  When he let his words die off, Philip nodded. Anne stood with her hands on her hips and stared with suspicion as Joseph walked out and shut the door behind him.

  “What is this about Kelshall?” Philip asked.

  Anne ignored his question. “Joseph just left me here alone with you.”

  “About Kelshall—”

  “And you don’t seem surprised he did it. What is going on, Philip?”

  He walked to the hearth and rested his hand on the mantel as he stared into the flames. “Walter believes that we should have time alone together.”

  “You asked him for such a boon?” she demanded, fury rising swiftly through her. She caught his shoulder so that she could see his face. Had Philip jeopardized her position with the League?

  He shook his head, putting his hand over hers. She pulled away.

  “Anne, he is an intelligent man who would see the attraction between us even did he not have the training of a Bladesman. They owe you a debt, and would not deny you something you want.”

  “And they think I want you.”

  When he only shrugged, she whirled away from him, close to trembling with her jumbled emotions: anger and humiliation and guilt. Perhaps she herself had alerted the Bladesmen to her desire for Philip. Her personal life should not matter to them; if she wanted to take Philip as a lover—

  Heavens, they’d almost given their permission.

  She groaned. “This is not good. I have to prove to them that I am dedicated to their cause, not to furthering a romance.”

  “They know you’re dedicated.”

  His sympathy only fueled her anger. “I am the one who can be closest to Lord Kelshall. I can sneak outside his door and—”

  “’Tis already been done,” he said softly. “I went myself. I had to discover the truth.”

  By the calm expression on his face, she knew that he had found nothing suspicious, and she felt relieved for him. But to suspect his own lord had to have been difficult for him.

  She turned away, tired of the softness in her whenever she looked at him. She could not control herself around him. Walter might have given his permission, but she worried how the League perceived her. Did they think she needed the comfort of a man more than a mission with them?

  Or was she counting too much on a future with them? A bleakness squeezed her chest. Nay, she could not think that way. She had already proven her fortitude. She would make it happen.

  “Anne—”

  If he touched her, she would melt into him again. “Just go, Philip.”

  The next day, they were on the road journeying south again, closer and closer to London, and the end. The tension of always worrying about attack was making her feel exhausted, as if her performance was stretching thin like a second skin worn too long.

  The weather did not help. Fog and rain chased them as they rode. Even their horses’s heads hung dispiritedly. Anne’s cloak drooped soddenly about her head, and she began to feel rain trickling down her scalp. Margaret huddled in her saddle and said little.

  In front of her, Joseph glanced behind, and then looked again, frowning. She didn’t have the energy to feel frightened. She followed his gaze, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, just her other three knights, taking every precaution, as if she might be in danger at any moment. How did they stay so focused?

  Joseph pulled up on his horse and let her pass him. She glanced behind to see him talking to Walter, who finally nodded. Joseph urged his horse into a cantor and rode back the way they’d come, disappearing into the wisps of fog that hid the road.

  One minute merged into the next, and Joseph finally returned. But Anne only knew that because she suddenly heard them talking in low voices, as if they were trying to keep quiet. She straightened in her saddle and slowed her horse. Margaret kept going as the knights caught up with Anne.

  “Walter, is something amiss?” she asked.

  For a moment he was quiet, and she had another of those eerie feelings where the Bladesmen seemed to be conversing without speaking. Philip watched them, and for once seemed to understand.

  At last, Walter said, “My lady, a party is journeying behind us, less than half a league. Joseph saw them through a break in the fog.”

  “Perhaps they are simply as anxious to reach Stamford as we are,” Anne said. But she straightened in her saddle, shaking off her sleepy daze.

  “They are traveling quietly for the size of the retinue, and they have not come any closer. Sir Joseph says it is a party of six mounted men, who should be traveling faster than us, loaded down as we are with extra packhorses. It could very well be our watcher, forced to stay too close in this weather. While the fog is still thick, we will conceal ourselves off the road and allow them to pass.”

  She followed Walter’s horse as the road curved down into a weedy ditch, then up the far side. An overgrown hedgerow, which separated the pastureland from the road, blocked their path. They were lucky enough to find a small wooden gate fifty yards farther down, and they went through.

  Once they were hidden from the road, they dismounted and waited. Anne held her horse’s bridle and petted her nose, trying to keep the animal calm. Soon they could hear the jingle of many horses. The sound of voices faded and appeared, distorted by the mist and the bend in the road.

  Her stomach churned, even as she told herself to be calm. A Bladeswoman would face such dangers every day. Philip was standing near her, looking as intent, as impassive as the rest of the knights. He must have often faced the unknown.

  Beside her, Margaret was visibly trembling, and Anne put an arm about her shoulder.

  The voices became clearer, and they could hear an occasional phrase.

  “She’s not here.”

  Anne stiffened.

  “Lost…”

  “…Lady Ros…”

  Before her eyes, her knights as one unfixed their helms strapped to their saddles.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  Against her ear, Philip said, “If it is you they are after, we cannot let them get ahead of us, where they could ambush us farther down the road.”

  “So you’ll just attack, not knowing—?”

  “We’ll know for certain if our mission has been compromised.”

  With his helm under his arm, he mounted his horse,
as did the Bladesmen. The squeak of leather seemed unnaturally loud. She found Margaret’s hand clutched tightly in her own.

  The men rode back through the hedgerow gate. She wished she could be of help. They had volunteered no information about what to do should they not return. Were they so foolishly confident?

  “You were so brave to accept this assignment,” Anne whispered to Margaret.

  “You, too, milady.”

  Someone barked an order, and both women jumped. Then there were several loud clashes of sword against sword, another shout, and then silence.

  “Heavenly God,” Margaret murmured.

  They could hear voices, but could not make out what was being said. There did not seem to be a battle.

  At last the gate opened, and Philip leaned in. “You can come out now,” he said in a normal voice.

  “Who is it?” Anne demanded.

  “Your suitor, Sir Robert Ludlow. He says he wanted to spend another evening with you.”

  Anne gaped at him. “How do you know he’s telling the truth?”

  “If he wanted to harm you, he could have done so any time in the last day. But it is better to have him out in the open, where we can see him. Fear not, we will take no chances.”

  When Anne appeared on the road, leading her horse, Sir Robert bowed low to her.

  “My lady, please forgive me for this terrible fright I’ve caused you.”

  “Sir Robert, why did you not tell me you were leaving at the same time as we were?” she asked. She did not know what to think of him. Could his pale good looks be hiding a terrible secret?

  He looked embarrassed. “Because I did not wish Hungerford or Kelshall to know that I wanted more time with you.”

  She withheld a groan. “Then next time, at least mention it to me.”

  “There will be a next time?” he said so hopefully that he looked like an anxious puppy.

  “I will not commit to that.” The tiredness in her voice was obvious even to her. “Now can we be on our way, so that we don’t have to sleep outside in this terrible weather?”