Knight of Runes (18 page)

“Have you set me free, m’lord?” Her voice was a whisper.

His hand caressed her cheek. He looked into her eyes, a wistful look on his face. “I untangled your tresses a while ago. You seemed to be enjoying your rest. I didn’t want to…I didn’t want to stop.”

“Oh.” The mystery in his eyes held her captive. “But I must find my ball,” she muttered hastily, her eyes never leaving his.

“It’s right here,” he said, pointing only a few feet away.

She stepped back. It was too easy to get lost in the way he looked at her.

“We best move on before they send out a search party for us.” The huskiness was apparent in his voice.

The trek up the slide was comical as they both tried to keep the other from succeeding. Their laughter echoed through the hills. When they reached the end of the course, Logan stood there leaning on his mallet, a smirk on his face and the first-place ribbon in his hand.

“You played a good game.” Arik bowed to her. “You were a worthy opponent.”

She bobbed a curtsy. “You too, m’lord.” She gave him her best impish smile. “Although I did finish before you.”

He took a violet ribbon, shot through with silver, out of his pocket. He reached behind her, his fingers barely brushing the skin on the nape of her neck, and tied back her hair. “I may not be with you the next time you’re captured by the nettles. I send you into battle with my protection.” His hands lingered a bit before he took them away.

She couldn’t think of anything to say. There was more to this man than she originally thought.

Rebeka stood in a fine dark brown wool gown. The sleeves tapered into a fine point over her hands. Jeannie made silk thread loops to go over her middle finger to keep them in place. The damaged neckline was reshaped into a daring plunge. A border of strategically placed intricate lace stitched around the neckline. The iridescence of the lace complemented her violet eyes. Small luminous seed pearls were scattered across the skirt to hide the spots that could not be removed. They caught the light as Rebeka moved.

“Jeannie, what a change in Arik.”

“A change?” Jeannie worked at closing the back of the gown.

“Yes, he didn’t give me one sneer all day.”

“M’lady, he wasn’t any different today than he usually is. He only sneers when he has to. You’ve only seen a part of him and not the whole man. There now. All closed up. One minute, I have the finishing touch for you.”

Always like this?

Jeannie walked behind Rebeka and placed something around her neck.

“What’s this?”

“It was a gift from Lady Leticia. She gave it to me many years ago, m’lady. It has lain in its pouch unworn for a long time. I’ve no need to wear it in the kitchen and it would give me pleasure to see you wear it.” She finished closing the clasp.

Rebeka looked in the mirror at a large solitary amber sapphire on a gold chain. It hung low on her neck cradled in the cleft of her breasts.

“Shouldn’t you give this to Skylar to wear?”

“Skylar doesn’t wear jewels, m’lady. She’s young and has it in her mind the only jewels she’ll wear are those given to her by her one true love.”

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you for…everything.”

“Ladies, dinner is served,” Doward said on the other side of the door.

Jeannie waved away the comment with a flick of her hand. “I just made some alterations. You make the dress.” She answered the door. “Coming, Doward.”

Rebeka took one last look in the mirror.

Doward stood in the doorway, a stunned expression on his face. He looked her up and down.

“I can’t wait to escort you into the hall and see everyone’s reaction.” He rubbed his hands together in excitement. “This is going to be a festival to remember.” He extended his arm to her. “M’lady, if you please.”

“Lord Arik, wonderful party, sir, wonderful. I always look forward to your harvest festival. It reminds me of my youth and your parents. Yes, always a good time.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m glad you returned from His Majesty in time to attend.” Arik handed his neighbor a tankard from the passing tray.

“I think the old boy kept me on tenterhooks just to worry me. But he finally relented and I quickly took my leave. He does send you his good wishes.”

Arik nodded as he raised his glass. “To the king.”

Both men took a deep swallow. The man pushed his way through the throng of people.

Katherine made a grand entrance. She wore a gown of virginal white brocade which was a bit overworked for the festival but Arik had to admit she wore it well, even though the color made her look paler than usual.

Arik moved through the crowd exchanging a word with as many neighbors as he could. Deep in conversation with Stuart, he noticed his friend was no longer listening. Stuart’s attention was focused somewhere behind him. Arik turned.

Rebeka stood at the entrance to the room, Doward holding her arm as if to keep her from entering. As Arik watched, they moved forward.

She was the most beautiful woman Arik had ever seen. And she was heading straight for him.

“Doward, m’lady.” Arik nodded at Doward but his eyes never left Rebeka.

“Lord Arik.” Rebeka greeted him with a deep well-executed curtsy.

He took Rebeka’s hand. His eyes swept up from the hem of her skirt to the violet ribbon in her hair. “It suits you, Rebeka.” He spoke of the ribbon but his eyes were riveted on the jewel nestled nicely in the cleft of her breasts.
How I envy that tawny sapphire.
The sparkling gem glistened on her skin. It was tucked between breasts that swelled above the lace bodice of her dress, teasing him. One word echoed in his head…
mine.

She stared at him, speechless. Her name sounded like music coming from his lips. He had never spoken it out loud before. His thumb once again made small circles on her wrists. Finally, she gathered her wits. “Yes, m’lord, I wear your token proudly, I regret not having a consolation prize for you. Logan beat us both soundly.”

He still held her hand.

“I think we were too busy trying to best each other and lost track of the real threat.” His laugh sent shivers up her spine. “The ribbon goes well with your eyes, m’lady.”

The sensual nature of their chatter made her heart flutter and she was conscious that the smolder in his eyes made her knees weak.

“I enjoyed the games today and your company,” she blurted out “I see why Aubrey enjoys the festival so much.”

He walked her to her chair and—reluctantly, she thought—released her hand.

“Until later,” he said. He took his seat at the table, a sign for everyone to sit.

There was applause as the feast began—the dishes lavishly paraded about the large semicircle of tables by the staff.

Platters of cooked fruit spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg started the display. The aromas of rosemary, garlic and thyme leaked out from under the cover of the roasted beef and the mutton sent tendrils of musty sage and tangy mint into the air. The smell of stewed chicken sweetened with the fragrance of plums and honey permeated the air. Delicious roasted vegetables, breads and cheeses were displayed. Last out of the kitchen were the desserts. Cakes, fruit tarts, puddings and hot apple bread pudding completed the pageant, making mouths water.

Rebeka chose an orange from a handsomely decorated bowl. Arik couldn’t take his eyes off her as she closed her eyes and slowly savored the sweet fruit. He stifled a moan when she licked her fingers before dipping them into the finger bowl. The satisfied look on her face made him fidget in his seat. It was a small torture he didn’t want to stop.

“She’s a beauty,” Stuart said at his side.

“Who?” Arik said before taking a swallow of wine. He hoped it burned. It would take the edge off the other sensation that ran rampant in his body.

Stuart jerked his head around and stared at Arik, bewildered. The smirk on Arik’s face gave him away. Stuart broke out in a loud laugh.

“She carries herself with confidence,” Stuart remarked. “Like a royal.” He took a liberal sip of his drink. “She has better table manners than the king,” he added.

“Stuart, anyone has better table manners than the king.” Arik took another long drink. There was another round of laughter. Over the rim of his goblet, he stole another glance at her. The wisp of a fire that started when he first saw her walk in was now dangerously close to a full-grown blaze. He put his empty goblet on the table.

“More wine, m’lord?”

Arik handed Luke his goblet in answer.

The meal over, everyone gathered on the torch-lit terrace to enjoy the entertainment. Off in the field, the hulking pile of wood was a dark shadow awaiting its moment. The echoing strains of a flute and mandolin played in the background. Rebeka took a seat and reveled in the familiar feeling of sitting around a campfire.

“Here, Uncle Arik. Sing us a song,” Skylar requested.

Rebeka’s eyes widened in surprise.
Arik sings?
She couldn’t imagine him singing. He was too cold and controlling to be emotional although she was beginning to see a very different side of the man.

He tuned the mandolin.

“Arik, all the court enjoys when you sing
Greensleeves,
” said Lady Beatrice.

“For you, m’lady,” he said with a nod.

His phrasing and emotion made the words come alive. Rebeka found his rich baritone voice soothed her. He encouraged everyone to join in the chorus. At the end, he handed the mandolin to Rebeka.

“Here, it’s your turn.”

“I don’t know what to sing.”

“Anything but
Lord Randal
.” They both laughed. “Sing the boat song.”

She found it impossible not to return his disarming smile and was surprised he remembered the song. “All right.” She played the introduction and began singing
Row, Row, Row Your Boat.
Logan played the flute and Skylar and Aubrey got everyone singing the round. There was a demand for more choruses and Rebeka graciously complied, Stuart and Arik adding their voices.

“Rebeka,” said Elfrida when the song ended. “Sing me a love song.” Everyone laughed. She looked at Rebeka. “One of your own choosing will do fine.”

Rebeka’s repertoire was limited in seventeenth-century love songs. She silently ticked off lyrics and eliminated one song after another. She decided on
Ebb Tide,
a love song filled with imagery and emotions, but without any dated information or references. The melancholy song came from her heart. When she finished, her eyes still closed, the air was deadly silent. She opened her eyes and knew Arik stared at her. His eyes bore into her and swallowed her. Still holding his stare, she passed the mandolin to the next person. She took a deep breath and shook her head to rid herself of the trance.

The musicians played the beginning of a lively dance. Everyone took a partner. Rebeka listened to the music. She knew these dances. She immersed herself in all aspects of this era, music and dance, as well. Doward grabbed Rebeka and brought her into the dance circle with Logan, Stuart and Marcus and their partners. Next, she danced with Alfred and others from the village. She lost track of the number of dances. Tired and thirsty, she went over to the table to get some mead. Arik handed her a cup.

“You seem to be having a good time.”

“It’s a wonderful festival.”

When the music started up again, Arik held out his hand in a silent request. She looked at him and held out her own. Again, he started making slow circles on her wrist. It must be the mead, the heat, the excitement, she thought as her heart began to pound. This dance was not a country dance, she realized. It was the Volta, the precursor to the waltz. It scandalized the first Queen Elizabeth.

Rebeka lost herself in the music. The dance’s intricate steps and lifts required very close contact. When the music ended to loud applause and cheers, Arik led her off the dance floor. They stood by themselves and he bent over her, lifted her hand and kissed it without taking his eyes from hers. Rebeka stopped breathing.

“Lord Arik,” Katherine interrupted. “Sir Stuart is waiting for you.”

Arik dropped Rebeka’s hand, but his eyes clung to hers. He bowed slightly and left to meet Stuart.

Katherine glared at her.

Rebeka didn’t care. She stood motionless staring at Arik’s retreating back. The muscles rippled as he wove his way through the crowd. He hesitated and glanced back at her, then with a gentle nod and a ravenous smile, he continued on to meet Sir Stuart.

Rebeka picked up a goblet of mead and drank thirstily, trying to quench the fire.

It was almost time for the bonfire. The last event of the day, Stuart and Arik led the way, each with a torch. Rebeka watched and cheered from the terrace when both men threw their torches onto the pile. It quickly burst into flames.

Only the adults remained, the children bundled off to bed sometime earlier. More barrels of mead and wine came out and the revelers danced around the fire. Slowly couples embraced, laughed and wandered off. The crowd greatly thinned out, Rebeka helped Jeannie clear away the remnants of the feast then returned to the bonfire. She sat gazing into the blue flames.

“Woman.” The sultry tone came from behind her.

The reflection of the fire blazed in his eyes. For a few brief moments, with their eyes locked on each other, nothing else existed. All she could hear was her heart beating. All she could see was him. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth. Slowly he turned it over, his eyes never leaving hers, and kissed her palm.

Shivers raced up her spine. Her lids fluttered close. Molten heat radiated through her. She opened her eyes and saw the passion in his.

Out of nowhere, Katherine appeared. “Arik. Come to me. Our guests are getting ready to bid us good eve.”

The passion leached out of his eyes. “M’lord, duty calls,” she whispered. She was determined not to let Katherine know how she ached.

He handed her a goblet of wine, took one for himself. “To duty, m’lady,” he said, only a trace of irony in his words.

Arik’s calm body belied the anger in his eyes as he turned to Katherine, but it faded as the shadow of his friend came up behind her “Yes, Arik,” said Stuart. “Come bid us good eve so I can take my lady wife to bed.”

Arik smiled and put the goblet down. “I wouldn’t want to come between you and your wife, Stuart. I’ll be along in a moment.” He grabbed Katherine’s arm and followed his friends into the hall.

Rebeka wondered whether it was midnight, and the appropriate bewitching hour for any good spell to be broken. If she was lucky, she’d be able to hold the magic of the day just a bit longer. She walked around the terrace, through the gate, to the drive and the cottage beyond.

“Katherine,” said Arik, as they walked into the Manor. “I will say this once and only once. These are not our guests they’re my guests. You’re here because you’re family and I’m obligated to see to your well-being. Do I make myself clear? What I do and with whom I do it with is none of your concern. Do you understand? Because if you do not I’ll be happy to return you to your family.” He’d had enough of Katherine’s intrusion. He would not tolerate any more of her interference or her toxic attitudes about Rebeka or anyone else.

“Lord Arik, I’ve only tried to help you and the children in your time of need. I only seek to protect you and yours from wicked outside influences.”

He could feel fear lace through her. He’d never been this angry at her. He’d certainly never threatened to send her back before. “Leave me, Katherine,” he commanded.

She turned silently and retreated to her room, a sulky look on her face.