The Maiden and Her Knight (17 page)

“Allis,” he whispered, pulling her close. “Nothing would give me greater joy.”

She glanced upward at the surrounding walls, reminding him that they were not alone. “As much as I would like to stay, I am afraid I have been too long as it is. I had best get back, or Isabelle will make herself ill with crying. Coming so soon after Percival's death, when she was just beginning to recover from that shock, this has been an even worse blow.”

“Thank God she has you. Thank God they both do.”

She looked at her feet and shrugged her shoulders. “Words seem so…useless…at such a time.”

“It is your presence alone that they most need, my lady.” His hand itched to take hers but, cautious once more, he restrained the impulse. Instead, he looked off
into the distance and remembered. “I don't know what I could have said or done to be of any help if I had been at home when my parents died, but it is to my everlasting regret that I was not.” Her eyes misted and he spoke gently, wanting to do more for her now, if he could. “Is there is anything I can do to help, Allis, anything at all?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.”

Her incredible, unconquerable spirit amazed him anew. Allis, weak? Allis, vulnerable? Not for long. How could he not love such a woman?

“It's one reason I've come, and the explanation I gave Lord Oswald for speaking to you. I want you to keep training Edmond. He needs to be doing something.”

“It would be my great pleasure, my lady,” he answered sincerely.

“I thought you would agree. Thank you.” Her soft eyes glistened. “For everything.”

“I think I am up to riding today. If you will allow us, perhaps we can leave the castle for a little while? The day is fair, and I assure you we will not go far.”

“I see no reason to refuse. Now, if you will excuse me, I really should go, even if I do not want to.”

She smiled another, wonderful smile before she hurried away, her black gown swishing over the grass.

Blissfully dumbfounded, he watched her go. “Did you hear that, Demetrius?” he muttered.

Then he laughed softly so that no one would hear, pure joy and merriment and delight thrilling through him. He would gladly spend the rest of his life giving Allis laughter, and anything else it was in his power to bestow.

 

Allis ran into the buttery, closed the door, made certain that she was indeed alone, then leaned back against the cool wall and put her hands over her face. What had she just done?

She had made it absolutely clear that she wanted Connor, and not Rennick—to Connor, not just herself. She had brazenly told him she wanted to be his wife.

Beneath her hands, she smiled with delight, and would have laughed aloud if the buttery didn't echo. She hadn't intended to tell him that then, or so bluntly, but when she had seen his surprise and his delight, she did not regret it.

No one on this earth cherished her as he did. She believed that to the depths of her heart, for she had seen it in his eyes, felt his tender and genuine concern when he had embraced her.

Let people say what they would about him, and about her. She didn't care. She wanted to marry Connor of Llanstephan. Edmond would gladly give his approval and Rennick…

Rennick would make trouble.

It was obvious Lord Oswald liked Connor, and Lord Oswald was more important and powerful than Rennick DeFrouchette. If they had Lord Oswald's support at court, Rennick wouldn't dare to complain, at least not publicly. Perhaps they could even do something about the taxes on Connor's family's estate.

Her worried expression disappeared, replaced with a broad smile. With Lord Oswald's friendship and Connor by her side, loving her as she loved him, they would surely triumph over any obstacle Rennick DeFrouchette tried to put in their way.

A
fter the noon meal, Connor waited expectantly as one of the grooms sent from the castle saddled Demetrius for him. The man could have been Attila's Saxon twin, for he was nearly as tall and equally silent. He was different, however, in that he was sandy-haired and relatively clean.

Since this morning, Connor had felt light, joyful—as if he could race the wind itself around the mountains of Wales.

Demetrius tossed his head and stamped his feet, obviously anxious to go. “A gallop it shall be, my friend,” he said, “if Edmond can keep up.”

“I shall!” the lad cried, and Connor looked over his shoulder to see Edmond coming toward him, leading Firebrand.

His heart soared when he saw Allis behind him
with a fine-looking mare saddled for riding. No one had said anything to him about Allis accompanying them, which was probably a good thing. Otherwise, he would have been grinning like a gargoyle all through the noon meal, although they should not show any overt affection until the betrothal between Allis and the baron was broken. Hiding their feelings was going to be even more difficult now, but it would be the wisest thing to do.

Then his happiness diminished, for behind her came Isabelle and Sir Auberan, and their horses. Auberan's black stallion pranced about like a high-strung dancer, despite being weighted down with fancy trappings of scarlet and gold. Auberan obviously believed the more the better when it came to accouterments.

“Allis asked to come along,” Edmond explained when he reached him. “And then Isabelle and Sir Auberan.”

Allis made a little frown and surreptitious shrug. He understood. After the way she had inadvertently insulted Sir Auberan, she didn't feel she could refuse his request.

“The ladies may need protection. It is no secret that several dishonorable men have come back from the Crusades and turned brigand,” Auberan declared.

Allis didn't want her guest to be insulted, so for her sake, he would restrain himself. “I can still use my right hand if the need arises,” he said genially, patting the sword hanging on his left. “Fortunately, I understand the Montclair lands are very safe.”

“Indeed they are,” Allis confirmed, looking as if she was reconsidering the necessity of keeping Auberan's good opinion.

“May we go now?” Edmond demanded, fairly dancing with suppressed impatience.

Ignoring the lad, Auberan sauntered closer and ran his insolent gaze over Connor. “I'm very curious to see how Sir Connor is going to ride with a damaged shoulder.”

“You know how, don't you?” he asked Edmond.

Edmond grinned. “With his knees mostly, of course. A good knight with a good horse doesn't need to hold his reins.”

Not surprisingly, Auberan appeared a bit peeved. “How are you going to mount?”

“More of a problem there, I grant you,” Connor agreed. “If you will give me a hand,” he said to the groom, “we can be on our way.”

The groom laced his fingers together. Connor placed his boot on his hands, and then carefully mounted Demetrius, who didn't move. He was, as he had told Edmond, steady as a rock. “I'm sorry I can't assist the ladies.”

The groom went to help Allis, and Auberan hurried toward Isabelle. “Allow me, my lady.”

She did, and Edmond mounted Firebrand while Auberan clambered on his horse's back.

Allis brought her mare beside Connor. “Shall we?”

“With pleasure, my lady,” he replied, giving her a warm smile, simply happy to have her company as they led the others out of Montclair.

They rode through the village beyond the castle, and several people called out their sympathies on the death of the earl to Allis and her siblings. She paused in her progress and bent down to speak to the villagers who didn't hesitate to approach. Clearly touched by
their words, she answered sincerely and with familiarity, knowing them all by name. The villagers also offered their sympathies to Edmond and Isabelle, but with more reserve.

As they rode out of the village, Edmond took the lead, riding several yards ahead as if he were the standard bearer of an army. Isabelle and Auberan stayed nearly as far behind, leaving them as alone as it was possible to be under such circumstances.

The air was warm for spring, with only a hint of wind, and the sun shone as if blessing their outing.

“I hope both your sister and brother noticed how the villagers spoke with you, and you to them. You are a fine example of what a noble should be,” Connor said, breaking their companionable silence.

“I try.”

“And succeed.”

She flushed with pleasure in a way that delighted him. He enjoyed giving her the praise she was due, especially when her reactions told him that was rarely done.

“An overlord can be treated with respect while he lives and holds power over people's lives,” he continued. “It is how his death is received that shows how he was truly regarded. Obviously your tenants thought highly of your father, too.”

“Yes, they did,” she replied, giving him a smile tinged with sadness and regret that made him realize anew how grieved she had been by her father's death. “He was an excellent overlord, until my mother died. In fact, when I look back, he began to change when he first realized how serious her final illness was.” She sighed. “I think my father has been slowly dying of a broken heart for six years.”

“At least he had you to comfort him,” he said, voicing what he was certain was a truth.

“I did my best, but sometimes it was so hard.”

For the first time since he had watched his friend die, he spoke aloud of his days of despair, when it seemed death would be a blessed relief. “Sometimes I wanted to kill Osric myself to end his misery, and he was my best friend, one of the finest, truest men I have ever known. His death, though—his death was something no man should suffer.”

“You were with him at the end?”

He did not mind her questions, for he heard her gentle concern. She was not like others, who merely sought to gratify their morbid curiosity. “Yes. He died in my arms.”

“I'm sure he was eased by your presence, as I have been.”

No one had ever said such a thing to him, and he was deeply gratified. “I am pleased beyond measure to hear that, my lady. But I dared not come near you, although I wanted to very much.”

“I did not need you by my side. I could feel your sympathy every time you looked at me, and even when you were not there.”

“I wish I could have done more.”

“It was enough,” she murmured.

His heart took wing as a pride such as he had never felt filled him. He could think of no words to express his feelings, nor did he wish to end this moment of blissful contentment.

They passed through a short band of forest, dark with shadows. The only sound was the jingle of their harness, the wind in the trees and Auberan, quietly chattering to Isabelle behind them.

When they came to a brighter part of the forest, he noted Allis's expression and sought to bring her out of her mournful reverie. “Sir Auberan seems very taken with your sister.”

Allis slid him a wry, sidelong glance. “So he does. Poor fellow. He's bound to be disappointed.”

“She doesn't seem to dislike him.”

“It isn't so much that she doesn't like Auberan as that there is someone else.” Her expression told him that she meant him.

“I was hoping we wouldn't have to speak of this, that her interest would wane.”

“I know you haven't encouraged her at all, but she is young and impressionable and very firm in her opinions. They are slow to change.”

“Does she know?” He gave Allis a significant look, as if to add
about us
?

“No, not yet. I would rather wait until things are more settled.”

He nodded. How Isabelle might feel then, he could guess, and he couldn't blame Allis for wanting to delay that confrontation for a little while.

The forest ended, and the road continued through a large meadow. Hills rose gently on either side, and on the other side of the meadow, bushes and willows indicated the meandering river. With the sun shining, it was like being in a warm bowl of light, the soft scents of grass and greenery surrounding him. Nearby, some grazing sheep ran a short distance off as they approached, just as the girls around the village well would scurry away when he and a group of his young friends would saunter past in the days of his youth. Unlike the sheep, though, the girls would giggle and
watch them pass, and the boys would swagger a little more, feeling very well pleased with themselves.

He smiled at the memory and glanced at the woman beside him. Doubtless she would not have giggled and run away. He could easily imagine a younger version of Allis standing her ground by the well and regarding them with one brow cocked in challenge, as if to say, “You boys will have to do more than that to impress me.”

By God, he would have tried, in the days of his youth, when all the world seemed as young and eager as he.

No, he shouldn't have met Allis then, when he was as arrogant as Auberan, and vain of his battle skills. Better to meet her now, when he had lost his youthful arrogance, and could appreciate all that she was, and all that she had to bestow upon the man lucky enough to win her love.

Demetrius lifted his head and snorted, pulling him from his reflections. “He wants to run,” he translated.

“Let's all race to the river!” Edmond cried. “I'll win!”

Before he could respond, Edmond kicked his heels and Firebrand leaped forward, sending the bleating sheep nearest them dashing away in alarm.

“I'm not letting Edmond win!” Isabelle cried, and she spurred her horse to a gallop.

Auberan rushed by on his stallion. The young nobleman looked sick, but determined.

Connor turned to Allis, whose expression he couldn't read. “Riding hard won't further injure my shoulder, will it?”

“No, if you can really ride mostly with your knees.”

Anxious to feel the wind in his face himself, he said, “My lady, I have ridden into a horde of infidels loaded down with lance and shield and armor, so have no worries about that.”

“Nevertheless,” she mused aloud, a pensive expression on her face, “you may want to reconsider. It might be better to rest. In the forest. With me.”

Suddenly, any desire Connor had for the wind rushing past his face completely disappeared, vanquished by a different kind of desire. But despite his heart hammering in his chest and the hunger to be with her surging through him, his conscience urged caution. “Will we not be missed?”

“When they reach the river and realize we are not there, they will come back. We will only be alone a little while.”

“Long enough to start some tongues wagging, particularly Auberan's. He looks the sort to gossip.”

“I'll take that risk.” She cocked her head to regard him, her eyes shining with merriment and something more that made the blood throb through his body. “Will you, my bold, brave knight?”

His conscience instantly muffled, he carefully slid from Demetrius's back. “I'll have to find a stump or fallen log to mount again,” he noted, leading Demetrius toward her. “And no gallop for my destrier, poor fellow.”

“If you would rather ride…”

He took her hand in his and gloried in that simple action as he led her into the forest. “Not I, my lady, not I. I'll give him his head tomorrow morning, for as long as he likes. He can wait that long. As I told Edmond, he is a patient beast.”

She laughed softly, and the sound added to his
pleasure, just as holding her hand made him happy. They followed a narrow path, probably used by hunters. The light dimmed, and the odor of damp foliage and dead leaves beneath their feet scented the air around them. It was as if they were leaving the cares of the world behind them and entering a forest of enchantment, where everything and anything was possible.

At last, when they had gone far enough to be invisible from the meadow, he draped Demetrius's reins over a bush, then tugged the mare's reins from Allis's hand and likewise looped them over the bush. His body warmed with anticipation as he faced her and pulled her into his arms. “I must confess, my lady, I am not nearly so patient.”

She thrilled to hear his words, and even more to be alone with him in the quiet stillness of the wood. As he embraced her with his strong and powerful arms, a rush of heady excitement shot through her. She had thought merely to enjoy a morning's ride in his company, until Edmond galloped off, followed by the others. Then the temptation to be alone with him had proved too great to resist, especially after the conversation they had shared about the sad death of his friend. He tried so hard to hide his pain, despite what he had already revealed of his troubled past, but now she knew him well enough to see beyond his words to the lasting sorrow deep in his eyes and to hear the hidden anguish in his voice.

He kissed her deeply, tenderly, passionately. Heat tripped along every fiber of her body as she eagerly responded, wrapping her arms about him as if she never wanted to let go. She had dreamed of being in his embrace so often these past few days, when the loneliness
and heartache of her father's loss and the strain of offering continual comfort to her brother and sister had threatened to overwhelm her. Then, she would remember every look and touch, every tender moment and word, and be comforted herself.

As his firm, soft lips captured hers and teased forth her burgeoning desire, she knew she wanted to be loved and cherished by this man who had suffered and grown strong, who could offer her the solace and strength she so desperately craved. With whom she did not have to hide her fears, and who gave her freedom from them.

She parted her lips for him, then boldly thrust her tongue inside the warmth of his mouth, offering him an intimacy she had not known existed until he came into her life. Moaning softly, she relaxed against his hard, lean body, needing his strength as passion made her limbs soft. The place between her thighs swelled, like a rose about to blossom, hinting at the natural end of this growing, desperate hunger, an end she would share with him if not now, in some glorious future. Or perhaps now, for the titillating tension was too exquisite to ignore, or fight.