The Heat of the Knight (3 page)

Christiana was given the task of pouring water over the hands of diners that needed to wash their fingers. Her assignment was greeted with disgruntled mumbling.

“'Taint fair. I've been beggin' you for that job, Agnes. The pert little bitch saunters in and gets it the first day,” the girl with the braid complained. “'Tis a lad's job, you said.”

“Hush your squawking, Maud. 'Tis the wish of the master.”

Christiana felt that she would be paying dearly for Beckett's little favor. It was rather pitiful to think that this was an enviable job. She avoided looking at Maud as she picked up the ewer. The water smelt sweet from the lavender sprigs and rose petals floating on the surface. She moved to stand with the other carriers. Muttering under their breaths, they scooted sideways away from her.

Agnes scoffed. “Like a pack of mongrels afraid of a wee kitty.”

“Next she'll be letting the wenches carve the meat,” one of the servants informed his companions.

“Meow,” Christiana mocked. Men from all stations of life were an arrogant lot, she decided All the women but Maud seemed to find her taunt amusing, and soon a chorus of unearthly feline yowls were directed at the men.

“Leave off! The master will think we've gone mad.” Agnes's gruffness was belied by the shadow of a dimple creasing her cheek. “And, lads, if you don't stop your grumbling, I'll have you emptying the chamber pots.”

The vast dining hall was already buzzing with noise. Long trestle tables had been arranged in rows. There were pewter trenchers and engraved drinking vessels for the nobles, and bread trenchers and homely pottery mugs for the rest. While there were a few important looking guests at the high table, Lord Dareford was nowhere to be seen.

Agnes prodded her toward the dais. “Ask them if they'd like to clean their hands, and don't spill.”

One male guest with dark, leathery skin and an unholy gleam in his eyes gestured with a crook of his finger. Christiana leaned over the edge of the table as he held his hands out to be washed. She poured the water with one hand and caught the spillage in a flat bowl with the other. Bending as she was over the table caused her bottom to thrust out. The man twisted in his chair to get an eyeful.

“I believe I will mention to Dareford that I intend to have a taste of his fair-haired serving wench for dessert.” The lecherous dining guest licked his thin lips.

“And I believe Dareford will be looking for empty wall space amongst the tapestries for a place to mount Sir Bentley's head.” Beckett's sudden presence startled the man.

Sir Bentley's tongue disappeared back into his revolting mouth.

“Lord Dareford, forgive me. I was merely teasing the little wench,” Sir Bentley sputtered. Though he was a huge, hulking man, he appeared to cower before Beckett's anger.

Beckett's gaze shifted to Christiana. Though there was a forbidding expression on his face, a roguish glint sparked in his extraordinary dark eyes. There was the tiniest upturn at the edges of his appealing mouth.

“You look better already,” Beckett commented once Sir Bentley had found a safer place at the opposite end of the long table.

“I may appear more robust, but I assure you, I am not happier.”

“'Tis far better than living that dismal existence I rescued you from.”

“Rescued me? Ahh, my knight in shining…” She stopped and looked at what he was wearing. “My knight in blue tunic. How chivalrous of you to come and save a woman who did not wish to be saved! Now, if you'll pardon me, I am off to enjoy my new existence by washing the foul hands of your even fouler guests.” She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm, tipping much of the water in the shallow catch bowl onto the floor. His long fingers wrapped easily around her thin arm. She stared down at his big, tan hand and then at his face. Any trace of amusement had been wiped from his expression.

“Still an obstinate little girl, Christiana.”

She attempted to wrench free of him, but only ended up spilling the remainder of the water from the clay basin. “I am not a little girl.”

Beckett's dark eyes assessed her. His gaze lingered on her lips, then drifted downward, settling on her breasts straining the garment. Her nipples pebbled beneath his predatory appraisal. The only sign that he'd witnessed her arousal was a slight flicker of his lids.

“Well, you certainly don't have the appearance of a little girl, but you behave as one.” He squeezed her arm tighter.

“You are hurting me, my lord,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

The bailiff stood at the base of the dais and directed a barely perceptible signal at Beckett. “Lord Dareford, there are some guests who would like to meet you before you sit down to dine.”

Christiana sighed with relief at the interruption. Beckett reluctantly released her arm and stalked off. She sprinted away, intending to stay well out of reach of his grasp for the remainder of the evening, the remainder of her miserable existence, in fact. Completely flustered, she could still feel the heat of his intense gaze on her lips and breasts.

She soon found herself scurrying from one table to the next in the great hall. Men who bathed once a year were suddenly very fastidious. Many a rogue summoned her repeatedly.

Grease glistening on his chin, the man she now poured for delicately wet his fingers in the lavender scented water. With a wink, he dried his fingers on his beard, shaping it into a devilish point.

Christiana whirled away before he could take a pinch of her bottom and slammed right into Agnes. She stuck her long nose into the pitcher. “Empty again? Draw some more water from the well, but forego the petals. 'Tis starting to smell like a brothel in here.”

* * * *

Beckett made an effort to be polite to all his guests, save Sir Bentley. The man had wisely wandered to one of the other tables. Beckett kept a vigilant eye on him, ready to make him suffer if he merely breathed in Tiana's direction. Almost of its own accord, his hand curled into a ready fist. God's blood, would this gut-eating jealousy plague him forever? How would he keep his sanity when Colin returned? He would most likely ride up in his knightly garb, and all the women, including Tiana, would be swooning at his feet.

At his right, Clement set his knife down atop the pewter trencher with a ringing clang. Beckett tried to shake off his irritation before responding to his advisor's not so subtle bid for attention.

“My lord, there is an urgent matter,” he said in a harsh whisper as the roast duck and heron were carried to the tables.

Both men held their tongues as the servant forked the meat onto their platters and ladled on the thick, peppery gravy.

“Well, Clement?” Beckett asked once the servant was out of earshot. He ripped off a strip of sauce-drenched meat and pushed it into his mouth.

“Lord Revynwyll's men have moved west across Pikhorn's northernmost border. They are freely hunting in his forest. The king is uneasy about the duke's provocative actions. It is said that Revynwyll's knights are well-trained, heavily-armed, and merciless.”

Beckett tucked another gravy soaked piece into his mouth and gulped some wine. “I assume Pikhorn has sent guards to greet them.” Squinting through the heavy haze of candle smoke, Beckett searched for Tiana.

“Sir Pikhorn appears loath to insult the duke. I've even heard tell that he has his foresters beating the brush, stirring up game for the hunting party. Yet, I do not doubt that the heiress is the true game the duke hunts. Would it not be wise to make the betrothal a binding thing? I fear Sir Pikhorn could be easily persuaded to forget the spoken agreement he made with your father.”

“Pikhorn is a craven ass, and I'm in no hurry to make him my father-in-law. Nor to share my bed with his whiny, petulant brat of a daughter.” Beckett returned his attention to Tiana. She gracefully skirted around a servant balancing a whimsical marzipan sculpture upon a tray. He had always found the way she moved fascinating. Her small feet never seemed to touch the ground.

“'Tis grateful you should be that she has been spoiled so thoroughly by her father. I warrant the only reason Revynwyll has not yet taken her for a wife is because she refuses to have the old goat. But I've no doubt Revynwyll will use gold or violence to bring Pikhorn to his way of thinking.”

Beckett could not even pretend to care about Clement's conversation.

“What the devil holds you so captive?” Clement craned forward to get a better view of the room. In moments, Clement pulled in an audible breath, and Beckett knew his advisor had discovered Tiana.

“Bewitching,” he muttered. “Geoff Calbot's daughter has grown up even more lovely than I had anticipated. It may have been a mistake for you to bring her into the castle.”

“And, pray tell me, my trusted advisor, why is that?”

“I fear my lord may be blinded by passion and lose sight of the important things like his castle, his holdings, and protecting his king.”

Beckett finished the wine in his goblet and then returned the vessel to the wooden table with a loud thunk. “You overreach, Clement. Dare you suggest that I have neglected my duties to my vassals and my king?”

“I apologize, my lord, I have spoken thoughtlessly.” Clement removed himself from the bench with a courteous bow of his head.

Distant horns could be heard above the din of the crowd. Beckett smiled to himself.

Whether away for a year or a day, Colin always insisted on heralding his arrival.

While the men divested themselves of their armor in the antechamber, Beckett ordered an additional trestle table be laid with meat dishes. The huge wooden doors were pulled open, and the noise in the hall grew to a thunderous level as the tall, dark silhouettes loomed in the arched doorway. Colin was the first to step inside.

Beckett summoned a servant to set a place next to him at the table. Colin had barely settled on to the bench before he'd downed two cups of wine.

“You need a bath,” Beckett commented.

“Truly? And here I thought I was as fresh as a newly scythed field.”

“So, what news of our avaricious neighbor?” Beckett asked, glancing over at the weary guardsmen who slumped over their trenchers and shoveled food into their mouths as though they hadn't eaten for weeks.

“Revynwyll has very few men loyal to him; he makes do with mercenaries. A lawless, bloodthirsty bunch.” He pushed his sweat-plastered hair from his face, transferring rust from his chain mail to his forehead. With a wave of his hand, he beckoned a passing servant. “I need a wash, boy.” Colin was staring across the room, his eyes widening. “Fetch me the beauty,” he called out to the servant who was bustling off to do his bidding. Beckett almost imagined he saw Christiana's angelic image flickering on the surface of Colin's irises.

Once summoned, Christiana attended him with a radiant smile.

“Did the messenger deliver the straw hackle? The monk who fashioned it said it should keep your hive warm for the winter,” Colin said.

“Yes, thank you. Unfortunately, I won't be around to see how well the device works. After Lord Dareford forced me from my home, I had to find someone else to keep the bees.”

Though Christiana had a pitcher full of fresh water, she lifted a corner of her apron and wet it in her mouth to wipe the smudge from his cousin's face.

Clearly she had forgiven Colin long ago. But her resentment for Beckett had only grown stronger. Resisting the urge to overturn the entire table, Beckett stood up abruptly and strode out of the hall.

He sought solace in his room. Arnulph had procured a spicy, red-haired wench, and Alice, his talented bather, had joined her. They had arranged their naked bodies lewdly on his massive bed. They were an enticing pair, but all he could think of was Tiana. He knew he would be fantasizing about her the entire time he bedded them. Why had he been so selfish, so stupid to bring her back within the castle walls? After all this time, rather than subsiding, his passion for her had grown almost unmanageable.

He had a cheering thought. Mayhap, one night with her and the spell would be broken.

Beckett shed his clothing and climbed between the nude women.

“My lord, you are back from dinner early. Are you not well?” the red-haired woman asked as she began fondling his cock.

“I will be much better in a short while,” he groaned.

* * * *

Christiana stifled a yawn as she brought in the last of the trenchers. She brushed the crumbs from her hands, took hold of her skirt, and leaped over the sudsy puddles on the kitchen floor.

“Where might you be going?” Maud shoved a tray of filled mugs into her hands.

“Lord Dareford has requested that someone bring ale to his bedchamber.”

Christiana steadied the heavy platter. “Why so many drinking vessels?”

“The master does not like using the same mug twice.”

How he had changed. Christiana remembered him dripping with sweat from archery practice, scooping water from a muddy stream to quench his thirst.

Maud added a bottle of wine to the tray. “What is your name?” she asked in an unfriendly tone.

Reluctantly, Christiana responded.

“That is a mouthful. I think I will just call you 'wench',” Maud said with a wicked grin. The girl was passably pretty, as long as one could overlook the obvious streak of evil in her.

“You may call me what you like,” Christiana said, “but I will only answer to my name.” She turned to walk toward Beckett's bedchamber. The twists and turns of the castle passageways were still clearly mapped in her mind.

Her throat tightened as she recalled hiding all day with Beckett in one of his secret places after he'd received a hideous lashing for accidentally setting fire to the tithe barn.

Colin had been an accomplice in the calamity, but only Beckett confessed to the crime, and so only he paid—with the skin on his back.

“And you needn't knock. My lord will not be in his room yet,” Maud called after her.

Why charming Maud had not delivered the tray herself, Christiana did not know.

Apparently, since she was the newest servant, she was going to be expected to do a lot of extra chores.

It took some maneuvering to open the massive door while keeping the ale upright on the tray. The warm glow of candles illuminated the vast room. How strange that the candles had been lit in an empty room. Christiana heard faint moaning coming from the direction of the bed. After setting down her load, she took hold of a candlestick.