One Knight Only Page 3

  “I already told you I did.”

  “Then why don’t I feel as if you meant it?”

  What could she say?

  Philip nodded as if he understood, and then reached out the window and tugged on the knotted rope that hung from the roof.

  He bowed his head. “Send for me if you need me, Lady Rosamond.”

  With his back to the wall, he boosted himself up onto the sill, and then leaned out, catching onto the rope. Her stomach churned at the mere thought of him hanging out over hard earth, four stories up, but all she did was clasp her hands together.

  He put his legs over the side, braced his feet on the lowest knot and swung out over the ground. He began to climb nimbly up to the roof, out of sight.

  She waited as long as she could, and finally she leaned out and peered up. He was gone, and she saw the last of the rope slithering as it was pulled up over the roof and disappeared.

  She barred the shutters and stared about her deserted chamber. At first, she’d thought it an incredible luxury to be alone. The only time she ever had been was when she was held captive in the tower, and that wasn’t the same. Each night she told herself that she was a rich, titled widow, who could do as she pleased—sleep as she pleased. It was part of her preparation for becoming Lady Rosamond.

  But suddenly Philip’s absence made the room seem cold, barren. She hated feeling like this, as if she were a desperately lonely woman. She wasn’t desperate. She had a plan for her life now, and it didn’t involve Philip. She would prove to the League that she would be a valuable, permanent member.

  And if she had to deal with Philip, then so be it.

  Chapter 3

  A nne barely slept. Well before dawn, she was awake and dressed, and even managed the lacing at her back with some awkward tugging.

  “Milady?” Margaret, who usually awoke her, knocked softly on the door.

  After pushing the coffer back into place, Anne opened the door and smiled at the girl’s surprised expression.

  “You are up early, milady.”

  “I need to speak to Sir Walter. I’ve begun packing away my things. If you could finish for me, I’ll return as quickly as I can.”

  “Of course, milady.”

  It was on the tip of Anne’s tongue to ask Margaret to withhold her formality, but she could not. Using the correct titles kept everything in line, made everyone remember how important it was to keep up the appearance of who she was supposed to be.

  And perhaps Margaret, so diligent in her duties, would rather not become any closer to Anne. Just because Anne had been a friend to her mistress Elizabeth, didn’t mean that Margaret wanted the same thing with Anne.

  Anne walked next door and rapped softly on the wood. It was opened immediately by a scowling Sir Walter, and she almost took a step back.

  His eyebrows rose. “My lady?”

  “Aye, I know, I am up early. Might I speak with you in private?”

  “It would not be seemly for a noblewoman to—”

  She pushed past him. “But I am a widow, used to getting my way. I care little what others think of my behavior.”

  He slowly closed the door. “Of course.”

  The chamber was even smaller than hers, but Sir Walter had it to himself since Sir James’s injury had necessitated his departure.

  Anne stood beside the bed, already neatly made up, and took a deep breath. “Sir Walter, if you could have one, would you want a replacement for Sir James?”

  He blinked at her, rubbing a hand across his newly shaved chin. “Of course, but by the time the League could be contacted, and another man sent, we might already be to London. We will have to manage with three guards. Did we not already discuss—?”

  “Aye, we did,” she said heavily. “But I felt that it was only fair to tell you that there is another knight staying at this inn who has worked with the League before.”

  He cocked his head. “And how did you recognize another of my order?”

  “He is not a Bladesman. Do you remember the man who pulled me onto his lap last eve?”

  “I do.” His voice deepened with seriousness.

  She thought he would begin to protest, but he just waited, his demeanor more and more disapproving.

  “I know him. More to the point, he recognized me.”

  His expression did not change, but she sensed a hardness about it.

  “How do you know—”

  “Because he came to my chamber last night.”

  She finally had her reaction, and it was a cold anger.

  “And how did he enter if you had a coffer before the door?”

  “He came in through the window.”

  His gray eyebrows plummeted in a frown. “You did not scream for me?”

  “But I know him, Sir Walter, and so does the League. He was second in command to Lord Alderley. His name is Sir Philip Clifford, and he has already worked with the League.”

  “But he is not a member.”

  “Nay, he is not.”

  “I have heard of Sir Philip, because I was given information on your past.”

  “You have?” she said suspiciously.

  “You are his concubine?”

  She took a step back in shock. She hoped her hot blush was attributed to his words, rather than her own guilt and anger. “Nay, do not think such a thing. He only came to find me because he was worried about why I was”—she lowered her voice—“masquerading as Lady Rosamond.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  She lifted her chin. “I tried to dissuade him, but he knew something was wrong. Finally I realized that if I did not tell him the reason, he might try to find out on his own, which could endanger our mission.”

  He briefly closed his eyes as he spoke through gritted teeth. “So this stranger knows everything.”

  “He knows what I know—which isn’t all that much,” she added quickly. “I felt it only fair to tell you what happened. He did help rescue me from captivity, and reunite Lady Elizabeth and Lord Alderley, Sir Philip’s friend and now a member of your League.” She took a necessary breath.

  “Sir Philip is not a Bladesman for a reason.”

  She waited silently, hoping that Sir Walter would not want to ask Philip for help. And then she felt a little guilty, knowing that the League had meant a great deal to Philip. But she had the opportunity for her own success, and she did not want to lose it.

  “At first he had not proven himself worthy,” Sir Walter said, “but now he has a growing reputation as a man who takes unacceptable risks, who acts before he thinks—not the mark of a Bladesman. His approach to you last night only proves it.”

  “And how do you know this of him?”

  “Because I have been privy to any information that concerns you.”

  “And they send you regular missives on everyone I’ve met?”

  He did not answer, and she put her hands on her hips in frustration, trying not to imagine what tales he might have heard of her—and Philip.

  He sighed. “Lady Rosamond, you have presented me with an unwelcome dilemma. On one hand, Sir Philip is a gifted swordsman and an intelligent man. He would prove useful on our journey. Yet always I will worry if he will somehow betray us, whether deliberately or not.”

  “He would never do such a thing.” Anne could have groaned. Now she was defending him! “He doesn’t even know I have come to you.”

  “You are very clever, Lady Rosamond.”

  She winced. “I did not mean to be clever, only honest.”

  His eyes sharpened. “And you don’t seem to wish his presence.”

  She said nothing.

  “But neither of us can do what would satisfy us personally. I will send Sir Philip a missive, asking him to meet us at Micklegate Bar, outside the city walls. If he agrees to journey with us, we could use his help. And I will at least be able to keep an eye on a man with too much knowledge.”

  If Anne had hoped to make a good impression on the League, she was failing. Gritting he
r teeth, she could only nod.

  “You will bar the shutters from now on.”

  “I promise.”

  Anne left Sir Walter’s room, feeling hot with anger and humiliation. It was done, and she could only go forward. If Philip agreed to join them, she would keep her distance, and never let things get out of control again.

  The portcullis slowly lifted, its sharp points retreating up into the gatehouse. Philip slipped beneath, leading his horse. Fog shrouded the early gray morn in darkness, hovering above the Ouse River, making it hard to see. He stationed himself near the gatehouse and waited.

  He must truly be over his desire to join the League, because even though his boyhood heroes were again coming to life, he felt no eagerness, no excitement. Only curiosity—and worry for Anne’s sake. Why had she told them about his visit? They could not be happy that he knew of their mission. Yet still they wanted to meet with him. He wondered how far they would go to protect themselves.

  He’d spent his life striving to be someone—first a soldier, and then when he was lucky enough to be named a squire, he’d seen his chance to serve his master well. Knighthood had been unexpected, and had made him realize that all his dreams might come true, if he worked hard enough.

  But not his dreams of the League; he was a practical man, and knew that it was time to go on with his life. Reassuring himself about Anne’s protection would be a start—and would ease some of his guilt. He only hoped that they did not try to detain him.

  A small party came through the town walls, three men and two women riding, with three packhorses being led behind. As the men looked about alertly, the taller woman pushed back the hood of her cloak, and he saw that it was Anne. A feeling of intense awareness moved through him, a heating of his blood and an uncomfortable erection. He always knew when she was near him—no wonder he had pulled her across his lap in the tavern. The sooner he could continue his own journey, the better.

  Philip led his horse nearer, and as one, all three men put a hand on their swords, as if they had not asked for this meeting.

  “Peace, gentlemen,” Philip said. He bowed to Anne. “Lady Rosamond.”

  One of the Bladesmen, broad and powerful, rode toward him and dismounted. It was the same man who’d held a knife to his throat when Philip had accosted Anne.

  “I am Sir Walter. Lady Rosamond told me of your unwelcome visit to her chamber.”

  Unwelcome. She was still very angry.

  Philip nodded. “I was concerned for her. It was too easy for me to make my way into her chamber.”

  Walter frowned, but did not glance at Anne. “I have requested that Lady Rosamond bar the shutters from now on. My assumption that she would know to protect herself in this way was wrong. It will not happen again.”

  There was a subtle hint of menace in his voice—was he warning Philip to stay away from his charge? Or warning Anne? Philip didn’t like leaving her like this. He would follow at a distance and see for himself that she would be fine. He owed her that much. But he wouldn’t tell that to this proud Bladesman.

  Walter cleared his throat, a crack in his calm facade. “I lost a man to injury recently. I know of you, Sir Philip. Would you join our party in protection of Lady Rosamond?”

  Philip didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “Why not another Bladesman?”

  “We are unable to alert one at this time.”

  He cocked his head. “Alert?”

  Walter scowled. “You know of us and our mission. Do you wish the position or not?”

  It was obvious that hiring Philip was barely better than using a stranger, at least to Walter. Or perhaps it was a way for the knight to keep an eye on Philip, who now knew too much. His own plans would have to be put aside. Philip glanced at Anne, but she betrayed no emotion and did not protest. Surely she had to be against his inclusion. It would be awkward; they would be together much of the time. At Alderley, he’d barely been able to keep his hands off her, though she’d been under his own friend’s protection. Now, on the open road…

  Yet Anne needed him, and he owed her for the mistakes he’d made.

  He must have studied her too closely, for Walter’s frown grew even more ominous.

  “What is your answer?” the knight demanded.

  “What does the position entail?”

  “Guarding Lady Rosamond at all times until the journey is over.”

  “And where will we be traveling?”

  “And how is that your concern?”

  Philip opened his mouth, but then thought better of it. He would be under this knight’s command. It would be best not to antagonize him.

  “You are, of course, correct,” Philip said. “Might I know how long this employment will last?”

  “Several weeks; perhaps as long as two months.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “Will it bother you to be away from the excitement of the tournaments?” Walter asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “To do your job well here, it is best not to be noticed at all, except as a force of strength for our lady.”

  So he had heard of Philip’s recent adventures. And he didn’t seem to approve. Well, Philip was no longer living for the approval of the League of the Blade.

  “I was long trained as a soldier before I was a knight,” Philip said. “I understand the duties you have laid out, and I can follow your orders. I accept the offer.”

  Walter only harrumphed, as if the answer was never in doubt. Maybe it wasn’t, Philip thought, glancing at Anne. She sat prettily on her horse, no sidesaddle for her. The real Lady Rosamond was obviously not a typical female. Neither was Anne. She was an enigma, a maidservant who could pass as nobility with ease. He couldn’t read her expression, and he found himself far too interested in learning how to do so.

  “Since you are obviously leaving today,” Philip said, “I need an hour or so to store my armor and pay my accounts. Shall I meet you down the road?”

  Walter nodded.

  Philip smiled. “And you would be heading…?”

  “To Ferrybridge, where we cross the River Aire.”

  “And into Pontefract itself?”

  “Nay,” Walter said. “My lady does not wish to journey there.”

  It was a decent size town with a royal castle, Philip thought. Not someplace a fake widowed countess could blend in easily. “I understand,” he said. “I shall meet with you in but a few hours.”

  To Anne, the hours seemed to trudge by slowly. The three Bladesmen concentrated on their surroundings and spoke little, which made her dwell on the fact that she’d disappointed them. Margaret was not easily coaxed into speaking. So Anne was forced to admire the greenery of the fertile plain of the Yorkshire countryside and the view of distant mountains in the west. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about Philip.

  But at last he joined them. Sir Walter stopped for a mid-morning break to let the horses graze and introduce his fellow knights. Anne wanted to ignore Philip, but knew that would be too suspicious. He was not as handsome as Sir Joseph, nor as tall as Sir David, or as broad as Sir Walter. His brigandine, the traveling armor protecting his chest and back, outlined the width of his chest, with a cloak thrown back from his shoulders. Once she had been held against that chest, felt the overwhelming stirrings of desire she’d never felt for another man. With a groan, she closed her eyes. She could not think about that. Determined to be professional, she met his gaze—and he looked away from her smoothly. She was relieved. He, too, could play at these parts they’d been assigned.

  Philip was introduced to the other two knights and to Margaret, who all gathered around awkwardly. Anne could see their suspicion and their worry.

  Sir Walter said, “You knew Lady Rosamond before?”

  Philip glanced at her, an eyebrow raised. He would have to get used to never calling her by her real name.

  “Aye, for a few weeks only,” Philip said, “when she performed a great deed of service for Lord Alderley. But you have already heard about that.”

  S
ir Walter nodded and passed to Philip a wedge of cheese. As usual, no one spoke as they stretched their legs in the little clearing beside a stream. Anne stooped to drink from her cupped hands, but faltered when she saw Philip leaning against a tree on the other side of the clearing, watching her. For a moment she stared at him, caught in some indefinable spell, so aware of him, yet truly knowing so little about him.

  What was this? she asked herself angrily. Wasn’t her remorse enough to shield her from such awareness of him?

  When they mounted, he was the first one at her side, saying nothing, but offering his linked hands for her to step into. She steadied herself on his shoulder, as she efficiently swung her leg low over the horse’s back and tucked part of her skirt beneath her. Riding astride like a man had not been hard to master, and she enjoyed the higher degree of control over the animal. But there was always the problem of rearranging her skirts, and she quickly tugged them over her lower legs before Philip could see too much. But he had already turned away.

  She wondered if he would ride at her side, and tensed as they fell into pairs, but as usual, silent Margaret rode next to her, and Philip guided his mount to the rear beside Sir Walter. Anne released a slow breath. So far, so good.

  Philip rode behind Anne, glancing up and down the road as they headed south. In the distance behind them, he saw a farmer’s cart, and far ahead of them a shepherd guided his sheep in their crossing.

  “You look for danger?” Walter asked him.

  Philip glanced at the knight, who was at least ten to fifteen years his senior. There was experience and care in the lines that bracketed his eyes and mouth, but Philip had also glimpsed the fine hem of the man’s shirt beneath his jerkin. This was a man of wealth; his bearing of great dignity. Was he more than a knight? With the Bladesmen, one never knew.

  “Am I not supposed to keep watch for our lady?” Philip replied.

  “Aye, do it well,” Walter said, his sharp gaze scanning the flat countryside.

  Philip let the silence lengthen for several minutes, studying the group. Occasionally Anne pointed out something in the distance to her maid, but other than that, no one spoke. He didn’t think he could keep silent for so long, so he might as well make that clear.