How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel (11 page)

“I don’t suppose you can tell me what she confessed to?”

He scowled more deeply than before and said nothing.

She shooed the last of the young mothers into the bathhouse and pointed six of her household’s well-dressed maidens back to the manor. “How is it that my manor cares for them, also?” asked Marcus.

“Well, the ladies, at least, are profitable.” James relaxed, wiped the sweat off his brow, and went for another drink of water.

“How say you?”

“The neighboring families are willing to pay highly to have their girls groomed with her management skills. They think this will make them more valuable on the marriage market.”

“But the swearing and cursing, surely that can’t be abided by?”

“It’s easily overlooked for those wishing wealth beyond compare. Here she comes, now.”

With eyes studying the grass, she sighed heavily. “Good day, Brother James.”

“Good day. I see you’ve set the town back on schedule?”

“Aye. Would you please excuse us? No doubt my husband would have words with me.”

Hurt fueled anger, as Marcus fingered the yellow ribbon and eyed her already soiled dress. She cared nothing for his gifts or for him. “You’ve the right of it. Into the house, now. I’ll follow you shortly and we’ll discuss your just punishment.”

James frowned. “If you hurt her—”

“Be calm. She should nay stage a battle like this morning, but I wouldn’t harm her.” In fact, all he wanted to do is lie with her again, and bring her to ecstasy. If only she’d care enough not to stomp his heart-gifts into the mud.

When he entered her room, she held a rope of leather. Eyes diverted to the floor, she handed it to him. “Please do it quickly.” Her voice was low and shaky. “I’d like to find time, today, to look into why my dye vat is not ready.”

The devil’s own whip contained small metal pieces sewn into the ends. “You expect me to use this on you?”

“I was ill-tempered, and I usurped your authority,” she said with a tone uncommonly quiet and demure. “What else can be done? I apologize and beg mercy.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Would you let me change my clothes, so I don’t bloody this new frock? It’s so lovely. I told Sally it was impractical.” She untied the sleeves of the new yellow dress and let it drop. Then she curled up in a ball on the floor, with her back to him, and put her hands over her head to protect her ears and face.

“God’s nails, get off the floor. I’m not going to whip you.” Reaching under her arms, he put her onto her feet. It took a bit of strength to take her hands off her face and place them at her side.

She stiffened.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

Even when he pulled her chin up, her gaze stayed lowered.
Where was the spark he’d come to love?
“I’d have you obey me and it bodes not well to have you take my authority and tramp on it. I deserve better than that, but—”

“You don’t understand.” She closed her eyes and went limp.

“What in the devil is wrong with you? Talk to me.” He shook her just as Dame March and the maidens walked into the room from the kitchen. Brother James joined them, entering by way of the front door.

By their hostile looks, he realized what conclusion they had drawn. “Get out. Get out all of you. Thomas, where the hell are you?”

He entered, pushing James aside, shook his head, and said quietly, “If you want, I’ll hang her for you, but I won’t help you whip her.”

“Oh, the devil take it all. I wasn’t going to.” Marcus placed her carefully down on the thatch and stomped out in disgust. Let her friends come to her rescue. He was done with her.

Thomas found him in the stables saddling Midnight. “Where are you going?”

“To find something intelligent to talk to, like a bleating sheep.” He mounted his mare, rode off, and his arse of a friend followed.

They rode quietly for some time. “I’ve never seen you lash a woman.”

“Nor did you today. Leave me be.” He whistled between his teeth and rode on faster.

“What? Did we stop you just in time?” His voice rose to an angry pitch.

“I wasn’t going to hurt the girl. I just wanted to talk to her.”

“With her dress to her waist and a whip in your hand? This time, your temper has taken you too far, my friend.”

Marcus pulled up on the reins, his horse whinnied, and he glared. “I swear by Christ our Savior. I know how it looked, but it wasn’t like that. She handed
me
the whip. Pulled down her dress and fainted. I was trying to rouse her when you entered. You know me. I’d nay do such a despicable thing.”

Thomas nodded, finally understanding. “First starving the babes, then lashing the lady of the house. I fear your reputation is getting worse and you’ve only been here a couple days.”

“Aye. Maybe I’m not cut from the right cloth for this simple life. It might be better to bed her for sons and be gone.”

His gut ached. He’d just begun to think how good it would be to have her in his bed nightly and find peace in her sweet embrace. How could she believe he’d worship her body by night and beat it by day? “Let’s be off. Mayhap we will run into some sheep thieves. At least I know well how to handle them.”

Chapter 8

“Where is she?” Marcus drilled the stable boy again. Ann’s horse was gone and her maid said she’d left shortly after their altercation this morning. What had the little fool done now? He doubted she knew how serious the land dispute in the north had become.

“S-S-She didn’t tell anyone where she was off to.”
What was his name? Charles?

“And do you oft let her ride unattended?”

“That has b-b-been her way, m’lord.” The young boy’s face paled and he held close to the wall. He was barely old enough to be responsible for himself, let alone his wild, impetuous wife. He tried to remain calm. Tomorrow he would find a villager—no, one of his own men—to head the stables.

He took a deep breath. “A lady needs an armed escort at all times.”

“Yes, sir. I understand. I’ll make sure, sir.” The boy’s face flushed and he bowed.

“When did she leave?”

He pointed to the sky. “‘Twas right as the sun was at the highest point and the shadows naught.”

“Did she say anything at all?”

“Just something about making things right. I told her which direction you’d gone in.”

“That’s a good lad. Worry not. This is no fault of yours. Be off to your chores. I’ll be fetching her home before you know it.”

Cursing, he turned to Thomas. “We’ve no time for fresh horses. Are you up for a romp? I can think of only one place she’d go.”
Was she still convinced he’d lash her?
Already the sun rode hard toward the horizon.

“I’m always ready for swordplay. I’ll get the others.” Thomas grinned widely.

“No, no. Have them stand by, close at hand. I think we’ll try peacekeeping with words.”

“And
I
think the over-abundance of sheep dung is affecting your brain.” His mouth lifted on one side as he mounted his charger with a chuckle. “Words, not swords?”

“Well, mayhap more like trickery. Abernathy will be expecting a full frontal attack, but Edward insisted that I not war on the lands bordering my own. Go get that lazy squire of yours, Jacob.” Marcus mounted Midnight, who twitched her ears back and snorted.

“I told you my sneaky Venetian thief would come in handy.”

“And haven’t I already thanked you? I’ll gain Abernathy’s attention while the thief steals her back. Look for my signal. If all else fails, we’ll meet back here at dawn and take his keep by sword.”

Midnight reared. Patting her neck, he flicked the reins. At the small stone bridge, he veered to the south. On the other side of the river, he’d head north again.

He spoke softly. “Sorry girl, but we’ve more to do before we can hit the hay.” She heeded his words and raced over fields, while he leaned forward, urging her on.

Dusk had turned to evening by the time Abernathy’s estate loomed in the horizon. Unlike Marcus’ superior Roman manor, this brick building boasted naught, but one round turret and a small main house. Thatching, sure to catch fire, roofed not only the main house, but also the many smaller huts nearby. The whole area was encompassed by a brick wall, too short and too narrow to be anything other than a nuisance. Were it not for his promise to Edward, he’d level it all before dawn.

Armed guards met him at the front gate. He dismounted, dripping with disdain. “Is this how you greet a neighboring lord? Do you not even have a stable lad to take my steed? I’m already finding this whole visit rather tiresome. Do ask that Abernathy come to the gate, would you not?”

One of the guards came to his senses, nodded, and rushed into the manor.

He exaggerated the regal tone he’d learned while traveling with Edward in the East. “George? Be that thou in there? Truly, thou must be in jest. Your abilities as a host will be a laughing stock next time I visit court. I’ll see to it. Your manners are atrocious.”

Obviously sensing no way out, Abernathy opened the door. “Forgive me, good sir. I heard there were thieves and ruffians about. I had no way of knowing it was you who would be calling at this hour of the night.”

Marcus yawned, Midnight snorted, and he paced with her. They both would rather run over fields than speak to this annoying arse. “Forgive me for my late night appearance, but it seems I may have lost something that belongs to me. It’s not of great worth, mind you, I may even sell it for a price, but alas it is mine. You’ll see to my steed?”

Abernathy’s eyes narrowed. “Mayhap I can be of some assistance. We have not yet been introduced. Sir?”

“I’m the second son of Blackwell, the Earl of Thornhill. And presently, I’m the Lord of the Meadows, as I’ve recently wed the Lady Ann. Terribly sorry you weren’t invited, but the ceremony was on short notice.”

Abernathy stood fast in the doorway to the surrounding wall. Archers gathered in the one turret, and soldiers in the courtyard. “So just what type of thing is it that you’ve misplaced? Mayhap a sheep or two? Maybe an old sow?”

“My, my, no, no. It seems that my Lady has run off again.” He ignored the feigned insult and the gathering men.

“Again?” The arse raised his eyebrows.

Marcus fidgeted and continued pacing, rather pleased with his superior acting abilities. “Oh, yes. She seems to do it rather frequently, I’m told. I suppose I must bring her back.”

“So thou art not overly fond of her? But from the looks of your horse, you rushed to find her.” He appeared to relax.

“Gad, no. Way too old for my tastes, wouldn’t you say. Long in the tooth. She’s mayhap twenty and five? I prefer them a bit younger, but Edward commanded and thus I complied. You know how it is. I shouldn’t let her get lost.”

“The king? You spoke with him recently?” He opened the door further and beckoned Marcus in with a quick sweep of his hand.

Marcus stayed put and made a point at poking at the crumbling mortar, enjoying how easily it fell to the ground. “Oh, yes. We’re rather on good terms since I came back from the last of the holy wars. He did mention he was forever in my debt or some such thing. Well, well, if you hear of her whereabouts . . .”

“What exactly did the king command?” He motioned for a boy to see to Midnight, but Marcus held tight to her reins.

“Why, that I was to marry the wench and keep her lands safe from those that would steal from him. After all, she brings a fine penny to him in taxes. I’m afraid it was my punishment for coming home as second son with an army and all. He was quite adamant that I do well by her. It just won’t do that I’ve lost her.”

Abernathy laughed, slapped him on the back, and indicated they should enter into the courtyard. “What if I were to help you find her?”

He handed Midnight off to the stable lad, with instructions and a threat if he found anything amiss. Putting clean linen to his forehead, he slipped a knife into his palm. “I’m catching my death of a chill out here. I despise being distraught. It’s so good to have a neighbor like you.”

“Good neighbor? You killed my men.”

“What, ho? Me? Gracious not. Whatever ruffians are out there, they’re not mine.”

They walked a few feet to the front door of the meager estate. Inside, the musty damp thatch smelled as if it had not been changed for years. Marcus gagged when a rat ran across the table and grabbed a chicken leg from a plate. “I’d much rather settle these types of things with gold. I hear rumor of a beast-of-something-or-other, but devil take it, he’s not mine. I just want to retrieve the woman so I can return to London and let Edward know I’ve done my duty.”

Keeping over an arm’s length between them, Abernathy directed him to a warm hearth where dung and wood scents mixed. At least the smoke covered the other odors.

“Mead, Thornhill? Sorry. All out of spirits.”

Marcus sniffed and crinkled his nose with disgust. “Anything will do, in this godforsaken land.”

Over the top of his mug, the corner of a tapestry flipped, and a short dark shadow slid down the hallway. Jacob was upstairs.
But where was she?

“So, tell me. Did the Lady Ann stop here or not?” He did his best to appear bored and indifferent and positioned himself such that to converse, Abernathy had to turn his back to the stairway.

He grinned and made a lewd gesture with his hips. “I found her most grateful for my hospitality. I’m afraid she said she was escaping from you. Practically begged me to save her.

If the arrogant prick had bedded his wife, he’d lose his head. Edward, be damned.
What cut deeper was that she’d run from him and into the arms of this . . . this . . . toad. Had their lovemaking meant nothing? “You were able to overlook her disfigurements?”

“Disfigurements?”

Thank God.

Marcus turned to view a moth-eaten tapestry to hide the relief that must’ve shown upon his face. He waved his hand as if clearing a whiff of sulfur. When he was sure that he was back in control of his emotions, he turned to his neighbor. “Ghastly. I don’t know how you did it. Are you that much in need of a woman? I assure you, I’ve gentle maidens that would willingly do better than her. Mayhap you should stop by and I’ll provide one for you.”

“But she’s the Lady Ann, a noble woman.” Several beads of sweat appeared on the arse’s forehead and he wiped them away.

“All the worse, is it not? I must bear the burden of trying to create an heir, despite her dreadful infirmities.” Marcus winked, but in his mind’s eye, he pictured ripping the beating heart out of Abernathy’s chest.

The familiar hoot-hoot of an owl interrupted his thoughts.
The all-clear. She was safe.
He drained his cup and placed it on the mantel. “Well, I must be off. Lovely chatting with you.”

“D-D-Don’t you want to know how much it’ll cost to get her back? You can’t leave yet.”

Marcus stepped behind the ignorant arse and put his knife to his neck. Abernathy tried to break free causing the blade to dig into his Adam’s apple and drip with blood.

“Stop moving, except how I direct you, Sir Arse. If your eyes look even briefly side to side, I’ll rip your throat out while you watch yourself die from lack of breath. Blink once if you understand.”

He did, his eyes bulged, and Marcus dragged him to the door by twisting an arm. “Tell your men to open the main gate and bring out my horse.”

He croaked out the command.

“Good. Now tell them all is well and we’ve made our amends. Then allow my lady with my man to exit.”

Again, he blinked.

In the light of the moon, Ann, Jacob, and Thomas mounted their steeds. Marcus stood with his arm taut until the clops of hooves could no longer be heard over the sound of crickets.

“Walk with me, would you not?” Marcus half-dragged Abernathy toward the large black gate that walled-in the estate. A stable hand shook, handing over Midnight’s ropes. “Know this. The only reason I leave you alive is that you knew not of her deformities.”

Abernathy trembled, causing the knife point to dig deeper. “It’s true. I didn’t lay a hand on her. I know nothing of which you speak.”

It took all his willpower not to break the man’s arm. “She’s my wife and under my protection. If you or any one of your men ever take her, or even speak to her, I’ll peel your skin off inch by inch, a day at a time, until none is left. Only the devil will care. Do we understand each other?”

Abernathy nodded and stared open-mouthed at the blood staining his tunic.

“Good. Continue to walk in front of me. Make sure none of your archers move. If I see an arrow or a weapon drawn, your life will end first and we’ll meet next in hell.”

“Stand down,” he croaked.