The Lion and the Crow (4 page)

“God’s teeth!” William roared. “Tristan has never been a coward before. He’s faced legions of flea-bitten, axe-wielding vermin on horseback and not batted an eyelash!”

Christian tried to smother a smile. “Is that so? Well, every horse has his weakness.”

“Not mine!”

Christian made a noise like a strangled cough. He looked around, scanning the brush.

“Up there!” he pointed.

There was an old oak overlooking the stream. An enormous limb had been split from the trunk by lightning and was caught in its upper branches.

“’Tis high up and well snagged,” William said doubtfully.

Christian didn’t answer. He stripped off his gambeson and pushed up the linen sleeves of his shirt, revealing strong, wiry forearms rich with veins. He pulled himself up into the tree with surprising strength and agility.

“Watch out for deadly squirrels,” William said dryly. Christian just snorted.

Watching him climb, William’s perception shifted again with a bone-rattling jolt. Christian was not
soft
, William realized. There was nothing of the coddled child in him. He was hard and tough as sinew. Refined? Refined as a purebred stallion, perhaps, or an elemental sprite. But not weak, no. He was powerful and very male.

For some reason, this shift in perception allowed William to watch Christian, to keep his eyes on the man, unthreatened, for the first time since they’d locked gazes on that tournament field. He watched Christian pull himself up higher and higher, wrestle with the huge limb, lifting and wresting it out of the tree with raw muscle, maintaining his balance all the while. When the limb was free, Christian shoved it off towards the bank of the stream. As it crashed down, his feet were spread wide to brace himself on a sturdy limb. He looked down at William and grinned, his face open and happy for the first time since William had known him.

And something new stirred to life inside William. Not anxiety, fear, or confusion this time, but something far steadier, thick as honey, and painfully sweet.

It felt like such an integral part of him that William didn’t even question it. He just blinked twice, returned Christian’s smile, and moved to place the limb across the river.

With their view of the rapids blocked, the horses crossed without further ado.

****

CHAPTER 5

Christian was in seven kinds of heaven and three kinds of hell. He was free of his father’s castle, free of his brothers, free of the need to guard his back at all hours of the day and night. It was even better than when he’d squired Sir Allendale. For then, he’d been of the lowest rank in the camp, and his role was to serve and be silent. Sir Allendale had been good to him, but there had been rough words from other knights and even older squires, as well as shoves and smacks when he did not move fast enough or got in the way.

And there had been, too, a few knights he’d feared in the company, men who looked at him too calculatingly and too long, who would have buggered him cruelly had they gotten the chance, even though Sir Allendale had made it clear that Christian was blood and not to be mistreated.

Those men had been ugly, crude, and cold-blooded. And while Christian might have dreamed his secret dreams of being held in strong arms, of being filled by the cock of a lover, he knew that the experience with men like that would be nothing but pain and humiliation. He kept his knife at the ready, always. And he never went into the woods alone.

But travelling with Sir William, for the first time, Christian was treated as an equal. He couldn’t fail to notice the looks of approval William bestowed on him more and more— when he made quick work of building the fire, when he caught game for the evening meal, when he rode from dawn to dusk without complaint. Those approving looks, and his soft words of appreciation and praise, were like balm on the torn places in Christian’s soul. He worked harder, did more, acted like he was never tired, ran spritely with aching limbs, climbed trees and moved boulders, just to see that approval shining in William’s eyes, to earn that precious reparation.

And yet… it was torture too. It was one thing for Christian to ignore his desires in the castle keep, where there was the constant danger of discovery and unguarded moments were few. It was one thing to hold himself in check when William had been cold, when he’d obviously disliked the very sight of him. Christian had understood that. He knew that his looks inspired scorn in some men and jealousy in others. It was why he cropped his hair so severely and had learned to school his face against any softness. It had been sharply disappointing that
William
had turned out to be such a man. But it did have the advantage of keeping Christian from acting a fool.

No longer. When William looked at him now there was warmth in his eyes; now he smiled, now he was generous, now he was kind. Now his eyes lingered instead of shying away. Those long looks, those lovely, aggravating, bewildering looks, made Christian hope and burn. And except when they passed through a village, he was alone with William day and night.

If he’d thought Sir William was handsome before, it was nothing to how he felt now. It was like watching a distant rider grow more and more defined the closer he got— familiarity bred an acute awareness of every part of the man. William was solid as an oak and muscled from long days of training and battle. His sturdy waist and chest seemed to call Christian to wrap his arms around them. William’s eyes were like the sea after a storm, sucking Christian in. And his lips— whether they smiled and sang, or were pensive and sad— made Christian’s own mouth itch with a need to press against them.

Now it was Christian who looked away, afraid his eyes would reflect the hard, bitter edge of his yearning.

Looking away did not help. He was never less than half hard, and the woods along their route had seen enough of his covertly spilled seed to found a forest of Brandons, could babes grow as trees did. William must be beginning to wonder if Christian had a malfunction of the kidneys, he disappeared so often and so long.

It went against Christian’s nature to be circumspect. You did not grow up the youngest of seven boys and not learn to take what you needed and what you wanted, roughly if necessary. You grabbed for the platter of meat as it hit the table or your belly went empty, and no one would feel sorry for you and rectify that. That lesson had been ingrained in him from his youth.

That part of Christian wanted to act boldly. It was cruelly unfair. His brothers were never troubled by lust. If they wanted a maid, they pulled her into their lap and began pawing her. If she had serious objections, she’d knock them upside the head with a mug or a platter and they would find another. But Christian’s desires were another matter. They were like hidden daggers turned inward, and he knew if he pressed forward, he might just bleed to death.

Especially with William. To make an advance on another knight could prove deadly. He might be rewarded with a broken arm or a formal challenge. If the man was slightly less offended, Christian might merely be sent home in shame. The worst part about that was he would have let William down. He wouldn’t be able to fulfill his pledge to help William rescue his sister. William would be forced to cast him off and carry on alone— alone and with even fewer chances than he already had.

So Christian resigned himself to silence. He would say, do, nothing until the business with William’s sister was done. If they both survived, he would make it clear to William, perhaps by moving in slowly for a kiss—
I want to lie with you
. And then, should William not feel the same, he might at least be obliged enough to Christian to send him home rather than force them to single combat or expose him publically.

The possibility of rejection was terrifying. Christian had never dared make his interest blatantly known to a man before. But then, he’d never desired anyone this much, nor been as wracked with speculation and second-guessing. He would gladly take a clear-cut rejection over wondering and wishing, over pondering the meaning of William’s every glance.

It was a reasonable plan. But it was not perfect. One or both of them might not survive the confrontation with Somerfield. And even if they did, they would then be travelling with William’s sister. If there was even a small chance that the handsome knight returned his interest, this could be their only chance to indulge it.

But Christian had no choice other than to continue to try to prove himself to William— and wait.

****

CHAPTER 6

After two weeks of hard riding they were nearly to Derby. The past two nights they’d ridden until nightfall, and Christian had no chance to hunt game. But on this night William saw the exhaustion in the horses and decided to rein them in a little early.

Christian went into the woods and came back with two pheasants and a pouch full of mushrooms. They prepared the birds and roasted them over a spit, letting the juices drip into a pan with the earthy, fluted mushrooms. William insisted that they had to finish the wine so he could refill the bladder in Derby. It was a feast.

After they ate they remained at the fire, passing the wine back and forth. William felt a contented warmth he hadn’t in years. Even his concern about Elaine faded to a low murmur.

“Why were you eager to leave your father’s castle?” he asked Christian.

Christian tossed a chestnut into the fire to hear it pop. “My family is not fond of me.”

William frowned. “How can that be? You earned your spurs. You’re said to excel at archery. The crowd at the tournament loved you, from the cries I heard. Especially the maidens.”

He said this last with a wink, but a sad, ironic smile traced Christian’s lips. “Things are different on the inside than they appear on the outside.”

“Then tell me how it fares on the inside.” William wasn’t sure he should press, but it was still early and he felt in the mood for conversation. Besides, he truly wanted to know more about Christian.

“My brother Malcolm wants me dead,” Christian said with no emotion. “The others would just as soon have me gone. My father has always both loved and hated me.”

“But Sir Malcolm supported your request to come with me.”

Christian barked a laugh. “Well, my apologies, Sir William, it did sound a rather hopeless cause. ’Tis easier for him if someone else sticks the knife in my ribs.”

William stilled his questions, but he wondered. A seventh son should be no threat to his elder brothers. Of course, Lord Branson’s other sons were rough-hewn and lumpy, like their father. They could not hold a candle to Christian’s natural looks and grace. Such things could inspire bitter jealousy, especially if a specific woman was involved. Is that why Sir Malcolm wanted him dead? Had Christian stolen his beloved’s heart?

As if sensing his questions, Christian spoke again. “’Tis a simple matter. All my brothers share the same mother, Lady Mary. She was my father’s first wife. She bore him eight children, six of them boys. Then she died of a fever.”

Christian took a slug of wine and continued. “My mother was Lady Enndolyn, my father’s second wife. The story goes that she was a renowned beauty and my father lusted after her for years. But she refused to have anything to do with him while he was married to another.” Christian paused. “In fact, it is said that Lady Mary’s fever might have been helped along with a dose of poison, so strong was my father’s lust for Enndolyn.”

William breathed in sharply. “’Tis an evil accusation to lay on your own sire.”

Christian shrugged. “I only repeat what is whispered among the servants. It was before my time, as you can well surmise. I know naught of it. But however it happened, by means fair or foul, my father was at last free, and he married my mother. He had her for only one year before I was born. She died in childbirth. He has never forgiven me. And my brothers— they hated my mother for dispossessing their dam, and by that same token, me.”

William’s heart ached at the placid, frozen expression on Christian’s face. Christian had learned to school his emotions well.

“My mother also died when I was young,” William said. “’Tis why I was so close to Elaine. She was younger than me, but she raised us both in my mother’s stead. I am sorry, Christian.”

Christian shrugged. “They say I look a great deal like her.”

“She must have been a very great beauty.”

When Christian looked at him in surprise, William felt his face reddening. “What I mean to say is… you do not resemble your brothers or your father.”

“No. I am nothing like them.”

For long moments they sat watching the fire, then Christian spoke again. “I was fortunate that when I was fourteen my mother’s brother visited our castle, Sir Allendale. He saw how I was treated, and he took pity on me. He asked my father if I might squire for him. It got me out of the castle for a number of years. I owe him a great debt.”

“He taught you well,” William said. “Was it your uncle who dubbed you ‘The Crow’? Archers are more oft called after vipers or scorpions or eagles.”

“No, I got the name quite young. I used to sit on the fence of our training arena, watching my brothers fight. I liked to sit with my feet on the top log and balance on my haunches.”

Suddenly, William could see the image clearly. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the vision of a small, dark-haired boy sitting thus.