The Knights of Christmas (22 page)

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Authors: Suzanne Barclay

BOOK: The Knights of Christmas
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Did Noel not realize that, the little fool? Apparently not, he noted with some disgruntlement. Any other female who claimed to want marriage would be sidling up to him, advertising her charms as a means to get his agreement. But instead of swinging her hips or batting her eyes, Noel took him by the hand as if he were an elderly uncle and helped him into his chair like some graybeard!
Faith, but he was not
that
old. Benedick frowned at the thought. His mood was not improved when he saw Alard present the girl with a circlet of greenery, which she promptly set atop her hair. It made her look like some kind of wood nymph or Christmas angel, and Benedick caught his breath, enchanted by the sight of Noel turning slowly, laughter curving her dainty mouth.
With a grunt, Benedick shook his head. Had the girl no modesty that she displayed herself so shamelessly for Alard? And hadn't he expressly forbidden his squire to have dealings with her? Yet there they were, leaning close and whispering together. Light haired, young and similar in height, the two looked akin in more than rambunctious spirit, and Benedick felt a strange sort of uneasiness deep in his gut.
It did not escape his attention that Alard had already dragged several maids beneath the mistletoe in his efforts to gain the requisite twelve kisses. When it looked to Benedick as if Noel might be next, he half rose from his chair, a growl rumbling in his chest.
Noel must have heard him for she lifted her head and moved toward him. “You've already had kisses aplenty this night, squire,” she called over her shoulder. “But what of your master?” she asked, a teasing glint in her eye. Stepping nearer, she reached out and took Benedick's hand once again, pulling him toward an archway where the mistletoe dangled.
Alard made some rowdy remark, and Benedick heard other voices, raised in encouragement, but all he could think of was the way she led him across the room. Who else had she kissed this night? He had seen her with a couple of the children, the cook and Hardwin. Did she think of her guardian as equally harmless?
Benedick grew more irritated with each step, a glance at Alard's grinning countenance doing nothing to improve his mood. He thought of the young, enthusiastic squire embracing her next, and his blood fairly boiled. No doubt Noel eagerly awaited a turn with the handsome youth—after doing her duty by his master.
Frowning, Benedick let her position him beneath the pagan greenery. Then she rose onto the tip of her toes and brushed her lips over his cheek in the most tepid of unions. Did the wench want a husband or a father? Benedick wondered angrily. Did she truly wish for a marriage or a sexless union in which she ran the household while he sat in his cushioned chair?
Outraged, Benedick put his hands on her shoulders and held her in place. Did she think to find more pleasure with a boy half his age? His mouth quirked in bitter humor. There were some things to be said of maturity and experience, and obviously, his young ward needed a lesson in the ways of men.
Those blue eyes looked up at him with curiosity, but Benedick refused to lose himself in them. This time, he swore it was little Noel who would be light-headed before he was through with her. Focusing instead upon her shoulders, Benedick rested his thumbs against the skin above her kirtle and stroked lightly. He felt her relax beneath his hands and smiled grimly.
“Be wary who you would tempt, child,” Benedick warned as he lowered his head. Noel's lips parted in surprise, and he took his advantage. Opening his mouth over hers, he kissed her hard. One minute, he was putting her in her place, the next he was sinking into her sweetness. She smelled like holly and Noel and tasted of elderberry wine. Warm. Moist. Delicious.
And she answered him. As soon as his tongue gentled from its first punishing assault, Benedick felt her give way beneath him, her hands sliding up his chest to curl around his neck. The soft touch of her fingers on the flesh beneath his hair fired his blood, and he backed her against the stone of the archway. Her firm breasts pushed into his chest, her slender belly pressed against him, and lust, long dormant, clamored to attention. But it was more than that. A sense of rightness, of homecoming, that Benedick had felt only in his night vision surrounded him, feeding his hunger for her, swamping him with sensation until he felt as if he lived the dream.
The fleeting thought was so startling that Benedick lifted his head, easing away from her. Dazed in mind and body, he glanced down at the woman in his arms. She sagged back against the wall, staring up at him with those amazing blue eyes, filled with an innocent desire that was nearly his undoing. Indeed, he might have reached for her again had he not gradually become aware of their surroundings, and the stunned silence that had fallen over the hall.
Benedick might not be an expert on all of Noel's beloved traditions, but he knew that kisses under the mistletoe were supposed to be those of friendship, not pulse-pounding desire. He grimaced but refused to feel ashamed. Noel was still leaning against the stones, her breasts rising and falling rapidly, her garland of greenery hanging askew, her eyes liquid and yearning. And from the looks of her, he should be well satisfied, for she had obviously discovered that he was no doddering ancient. Unfortunately, Benedick had also learned something.
His ward was no child.
 
Noel stared after Benedick as he stalked off. She heard his squire's whoop of enthusiasm and the delighted murmurs of those residents who still lingered in the hall at this late hour, but she paid them no heed. Her eyes were fixed firmly on her knight. Tall, lean and muscular, he strode away with an easy grace, his long, hard thighs eating up the distance to the stairs.
Flushing, Noel remembered the feel of that body against hers, strong and hot and thrilling. She gulped a breath, closing her eyes to savor the taste of him on her lips. She had been stealing kisses under the mistletoe for years, but never had she felt anything like this bone-melting craving. His mouth had been dark and delectable and full of mysteries.
Mysteries that only he could teach her.
And his touch! Noel shuddered as her shoulders begged for more, her skin tingling from where he had stroked it. Everything, from the moment he had put his hands on her, had been a revelation that rocked her to the core.
“I think you just got your quota of kisses for the night.”
Noel's eyes flew open at the sound of the squire's dry comment. Glancing over to find him watching her with a curious, assessing gaze, she blushed crimson.
The youth laughed. “Don't worry. I think Sir Villiers was just as shaken as you were by that little tryst.” He turned to look after the disappearing figure and grinned. “Perhaps the great knight has met his match, eh?”
Noel only shook her head. Benedick wanted no match with her. He had made that abundantly clear this morning. And yet...she needed to think.
“Excuse me, I believe I will retire now,” she said, nodding toward Alard. The youth waved her off with a knowing smile that flustered her, but as she made her way to the steps, her thoughts swiftly returned to Benedick.
The kiss changed everything.
Oh, she had been infatuated with the handsome knight for years, but it had been the innocent infatuation of a child, with little relation to the adult emotions that coursed through her now.
To her young eyes, Benedick had been attractive and alluring, a man who had earned her father's respect, yet what had she really known about him or his life? She had nursed that memory, along with the desire to make a home with the only person she recalled fondly.
When Benedick returned, Noel still found him handsome and appealing in a gruff sort of way. Anxious to keep the life she had made for herself here, she had clung to her hopes for an alliance. But, suddenly, Longstone took on a lesser importance, as she realized that there was something else she wanted more.
Benedick.
Once closeted in her room, Noel fell upon the bed in a near swoon. Faith, her heart was still racing. Her body ached in places she had never been aware of before, and her mind was in a turmoil. Why had he kissed her so, when he professed not to want her? Was he even aware of his effect upon her?
Of course, Noel's feelings for her returning knight had been subtly changing all day. After his initial ill temper this morning, Benedick gradually had become more...approachable. Obviously he had never known a true Christmas celebration, and so he had to be prodded into taking part, but despite a few complaints, he seemed to enjoy himself.
Ignoring his grumbling, Noel had dragged him into the thick of things, and in doing so she discovered a few facets to Benedick Villiers. He might be demanding, but he gave others their due. He worked hard, doing more than his share, and he treated his people fairly. His surprise at their attention told Noel that he was unused to caring of any sort. Sadly she suspected that the man hidden inside was in desperate need of cheers and laughter and...love.
Every time she watched him, Noel's heart softened even more, and when their eyes met, she sensed again the kinship she had imagined at their first meeting. Their bitter exchange of yesterday was forgotten, and she began to feel that Benedick was an old friend.
Except that he didn't kiss like one.
Noel smiled dreamily. Marriage to Benedick took on a whole new appeal at the memory of his mouth on hers, his hard body, his hot hands, his low voice, deep and disturbing.... But a man like that might treat every maid to such pleasures! Noel shuddered at the thought. What if their embrace meant nothing to him? What if he held to his decree that she leave after Epiphany?
Noel sat up abruptly, filled with a new desperation. She was certain now that Benedick was her destiny. She wanted to stay here forever, to make a home with him, to discover the secrets hidden behind his dark eyes and the mysteries that only he could teach her.
She wanted to spend the rest of her life loving him.
There was only one thing to do. Drawing a deep breath, Noel put her arms around her knees, hugging them to her, and closed her eyes tightly. With fierce concentration, she put all her hopes and dreams and yearning into one whispered plea.
“Let my Christmas wish be that Sir Benedick Villiers marry me before Twelfth Night is over.”
Chapter Four
 
 
B
enedick knew a peace he had never hoped to find. Home at last, he was surrounded by comfort and warmth—the comfort of Noel's gentle touch, the warmth of her heat. She was in his bed, and he reveled in the glide of her silken skin beneath his hands, the dreamy look in her liquid eyes. It was a look meant only for him, and Benedick gave her what she wanted. His mouth took hers in a kiss that tasted finer than wine and just as heady...
Abruptly coming awake, Benedick blinked up at the ceiling. He lay on his back in bed, alone, in the chill of morning. With a glance, he noted that the fire had burned down, and despite a blanket of thick fur, he shuddered. The heavy curtains he had pulled nearly closed the night before did little to keep out the drafts, for he felt cold to the bone.
Bereft.
Benedick frowned. He shouldn't have kissed her. Now he knew what delights awaited the husband he must choose for Noel, and he liked not the knowledge. But neither could he succumb to his own lustful urgings. Noel was too fresh and innocent to be burdened with his darkness. It was a bitter truth, but Benedick faced it as he had faced many such in his life.
He would find her a young man of property who had never fought a day in his life, someone as bright and sunny as herself to give her many children. And he would be rid of her and these plaguing dreams. In the meantime, he would do best to remember that Noel was his ward and behave accordingly. He ran a hand through his hair and counted.
Only ten more days.
 
When he went down to the hall, Alard trailing sleepily behind him, Benedick found it humming with activity. Servants were up early, rushing to and fro, and Noel was standing at the great doors, greeting a couple of peasants enthusiastically.
Benedick's eyes narrowed as he approached, for the men seemed overly friendly for his taste. He had always been well aware of the differences between a landless knight and a lady, and these two looked even poorer than he had once been—definitely too penurious to be standing so close and grinning so widely. He stepped to Noel's side, intent upon sending the beggars off, but the words died in his throat when she turned to him.
“Sir Villiers,” she said in a breathless tone that reminded him all too well of their last meeting—under the mistletoe. Glowing, she gave him a smile that seemed to reach inside his chest and tug on his heart. Placing a hand over the offending organ, Benedick tried to ignore its jerky betrayal. Surely no woman had ever looked at him like that, as if he were the answer to her prayers.
But then, maybe he was, Benedick thought with a frown. Didn't she covet his keep as her own? Dropping his arm, he studied her more closely. Was she really so happy to see him?
Ignoring his sudden frown, Noel gestured to the two men Benedick had forgotten. “This is Drogo and Edgar, freemen who work their own plots, as well as yours,” she said. And schooling his features to courtesy, Benedick nodded in greeting.
“We are glad to see you back, sir,” Drogo said. “'Tis a good sign that you arrived for Christmas.”
 
“Aye, and Noel gives us a celebration like no other,” Edgar added with a sigh. “Surely it must rival the king's own!”
Let us hope not,
Benedick thought, for he had heard of Edward's lavish holiday entertainments. As if sensing his disapproval, Noel herded the men past him, sending them on to where the trestle tables were already laid out.
“What do they here?” Benedick asked, inclining his head toward the departing twosome.
“'Tis Christmas,” Noel replied “Your people are all invited to partake in the feast. They are each gifted with a loaf of bread and a candle, and may stay until our own burn low.”
“'Tis an extravagance,” Benedick muttered, for he saw no reason for such expense.
“But 'tis—”
“I know. I know. Tradition!” Benedick said, holding up a hand to halt her speech. As if untroubled by his scowl, Noel only laughed. Then another peasant arrived, and nothing would do but that she must introduce the fellow and his wife. The couple was followed by another and another until Benedick resigned himself to remaining by Noel's side, greeting the guests.
She knew them all by name, of course, and they treated her with a respect and affection that Benedick had never seen at any other castle. Noel had done her work well, it appeared, and not all of it involved the account books.
Benedick did not know whether to be pleased or dismayed. What would these people say when he sent their beloved mistress away? Had she turned not just the residents of the keep but of all his lands against him? The scent of battle filled his nostrils, and he wondered if he would ever find his rest.
After filling quickly, the hall was more crowded than Benedick had ever seen it when he and Noel took their seats at the high table. Glancing around, he saw poor men elbow to elbow with residents of the keep, and simple, worn clothing next to bright silks. The servants hurried to present the twelve courses, so that they might join in, and even Alard had been drafted to help. Benedick was glad to see it, for the youth seemed to have too much time for dallying and too little to keep him busy.
Although not prone to gluttony, Benedick found himself making up for the past month of poor fare. Pigeons, mustard, goose, nuts and frumenty were among those dishes that joined the requisite boar's head, and he sampled them more than once. The spiced wine with honey was delicious, and when he leaned back, relaxed and sated, Benedick wondered how it would taste on Noel's lips.
Alarmed by the thought, Benedick straightened and glanced at his ward. She was smiling happily as the wassailers wandered among the celebrants, singing their twelve wish songs for health and prosperity. Following her gaze, Benedick watched one of the women hold up a tree branch they then commanded to be fruitful.
Benedick grunted in disgust. What nonsense! Some orchards gave fruit while others withered, and some men thrived while others died, but their fates lay not upon the whim of a wassailer. His contempt turned to annoyance when the singers reached his chair.
“We wish a joyous Christmas to Sir Villiers, our returning knight!” they sang, much to the delight of the other listeners. Benedick frowned, disliking the attention.
“May he have money and wine aplenty throughout the new year, A sturdy keep, a fine table and lovely Noel to bring him cheer.”
Benedick smiled grimly as shouts of approval erupted around him. When at last they died down and the singers moved on, he glared at his ward through narrowed eyes. Obviously she was not as embarrassed as he, for she was smiling happily at the tribute. No doubt, she had put them up to this. Benedick decided, ill pleased by the discovery. Did she think he would be swayed by the sentiments of others? All his life he had fought for his own on his own, without regard to anyone else's opinion.
 
“Although I must commend you on your rhyming skills, I care not for your sentiments,” he said roughly.
Noel's eyes widened. “You think I am responsible for the wassail?” she asked.
“Aren't you?”
She laughed gaily. “Nay. My wishes are my own, sir knight.”
Benedick lifted his brows at the reminder of her determination to marry him. Surely she did not mean to persist when he had refused her, as if he had no say in the matter? Slowly he set down his cup and regarded her. “And have you made your Christmas wish, Noel?” he asked, his voice rigid with contempt.
“As a matter of fact, I have,” she said, slanting him a grin that on another woman would have seemed wicked. “Why? Are you nervous?”
Benedick's lips tightened at the taunt, but he leaned back in his chair. “Nay, for I hold not with wishing or wassailing,” he replied, meeting her gaze directly. “They are naught but a lot of meaningless words without power or substance.”
Her smile faltered for a moment before reforming into a gentler curve, and her gaze softened. “But the magic is all around you,” she said, waving a hand to take in the hall, crowded to the very walls with people. “What other time of the year does the peasant sit down to a meal in the keep? When else are men more kindred? Brotherhood and love,” she said breathlessly, “are everywhere.”
Brotherhood! If there was such a thing, Benedick had never seen it. And love! Not only did his ward still think to wed him, but now she was prattling about that much-lauded but nonexistent emotion. If she thought he might swoon at her feet, she might as well beg for the moon.
“Tell me, Noel, just how many of these Christmas wishes of yours have come true?” he asked smugly.
“None.”
“None?”
Benedick blinked at her calm reply. He had expected her to hedge or to claim at least one victory he could argue as coincidental, but none? How could even this guileless innocent keep believing in the face of such failure? He shook his head. She was not just naive but hopelessly gullible. Had Benedick not seen the evidence of her cleverness in the account books, he would have thought her witless.
Watching her blithely nibbling on a piece of spiced apple, Benedick pondered her manner, for she seemed neither heartbroken nor discouraged by her past defeats. Abruptly he wondered what requests she had made that she should show no regret. Had she asked for frivolous trifles like golden slippers or impossible things, such as healing the sick? The thought sobered him, and for the first time, he questioned how her father had died.
“What is it you have wished for that has been denied you?” he asked gruffly.
Noel gave him a shocked look. “Why, nothing!” she exclaimed.
“Nothing?” Benedick felt more befuddled than ever, dizzy from her nearness and her nonsense. He shook his head again, this time to clear it, then fixed her with a hard, questioning gaze.
“Nothing,” she repeated. “Although my mother spoke often of the magic of Christmas, she told me never to waste my wishes on silly things, like gifts or riches. After she died, I wanted to beg for her return, but Father said that would not be right,” she added wistfully.
“And your father?” Benedick could not stop himself from asking, although he did not want to see her pain.
It was fleeting, flashing over her beautiful face and disappearing in an instant. “His death was swift, for he was thrown from his horse and crushed. And by then, I was old enough to know better than to think he could be revived.” She smiled, with a somber expression that made her look wise beyond her years.
At least she had some sense, Benedick thought, while the silence lengthened between them. Just as he began to feel a twinge of guilt for taunting her about her fancies, she took a deep breath. “So I have never had occasion to make a wish. You see,” she said, giving Benedick a brilliant smile, “I've been saving it up for something that really matters.”
Benedict nearly flinched. Obviously the little idiot had invested all her childish hopes and dreams in a wedding that would never occur. Although he couldn't help but be flattered, he was more appalled than anything else. Not only would he be responsible for sending Noel from the home she enjoyed come Epiphany, but he would destroy her most precious illusion, as well.
Unable to face her bright smile, Benedick looked away. He told himself that sooner or later, Noel would have to accept the harsh realities of the world. Faith, but he had been only five when his father had put his mother aside for another, little older when he had left her to seek his fortune. He tensed even now at the memory of those bleak years, of finally coming home only to find his mother's grave, of nursing his hatred for a father who died before Benedick could challenge him. Long-buried feelings, old emotions he had thought tamed, washed over him, overshadowing the warmth and gaiety of the hall.
Swallowing a thickness in his throat, Benedick glanced at his ward, who was being dragged away by a group of youngsters tugging on her gown, all seeking her attention. He could hardly blame them, for Noel grinned and held out her hands as if she were one of them.
With a startling abruptness, Benedick realized that he wanted to protect this shining child-woman from all the grim truths of life. The discovery dismayed him, and he looked away, his eyes almost stinging from her brightness. Ignoring the tentative efforts at conversation of those around him, he sat in silence, alone among so many, glum and brooding. And yet, his gaze was irrevocably drawn back to Noel.
Lithe and graceful, she led the children in a game that involved plucking raisins from a flaming bowl. Obviously the older ones had played before, because they were quite adept at snatching the prize without burning themselves. The younger ones were not so lucky, so Noel often delved in for them. Despite his own weary cynicism, Benedick nearly flinched when he saw her jerk back her hand as if hurt.
Half out of his seat in an instant, he halted as she lifted one slender finger to her lips and drew it into her mouth. Between giggles and protests, she sucked on that digit until Benedick felt his body harden in response. Letting out a low shuddering breath, he imagined her tongue on his flesh just so, her moist warmth closing around him, milking his seed...

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