Her Darkest Knight

by Amy Mullen

  Unable to look away, Isabel stared up at him, unsure of how to answer, or if an answer was required. Turstin’s statement confused her. His head dipped toward hers, and he kissed her on the cheek. It was quick and light, as if a breeze had blown through and touched her skin for but a moment.

  Her eyes closed, and she stood where she was. As a girl, she would watch Nicholas kiss her sister Gemma and wonder what it was like and what the excitement was all about. A kiss to the cheek was not the same as a kiss shared by a married couple, but it was new to her. It was vastly different than the pecks her family bestowed upon her. She felt warm all over.

  "Now that we have met, I must be gone," he said, breaking the spell she had found herself engulfed in. Her eyes flew open as he stepped back and offered his arm once again. "I have met you, and you are aware of what the king wants from us. We will meet again, soon. I am sorry this has been somewhat untraditional, but my life has been far from standard, by any sense."

  After returning her to Lord Beret, Turstin took his leave. He was gone so quickly that Isabel questioned if he had actually appeared at all. Only Constance’s endless chattering about how lucky she was to be matched with him convinced her he had been real.

  He had not been a ghost of her imagination. Turstin was a flesh-and-blood man, easy to gaze upon, and solid—powerful enough to keep her safe at any cost.

  And for that, she was glad.

  Chapter Two

  A nervous Nicholas de Reymes sat across the massive, wooden table from King Henry the second. Flecks of red light bounced from Nicholas’ dark hair as he sat at attention. The knight’s foot tapped in an odd rhythm that spoke of his anxiety. A log popped in the hearth nearby as the king gazed into the flames. Henry stared intently, as if watching an elaborate dance put on just for him. Nicholas ceased the tapping and leaned into the high back of his chair as Turstin stood in the shadows, waiting for someone to speak.

  With a jerking motion, Nicholas twisted his powerful torso to glare in Turstin’s direction. Turstin did not flinch but instead stared him down. He relaxed against the stone wall, one foot crossed over the other. Turstin remained serene, but this meeting with the king and Nicholas de Reymes, Lord of Blackstone Castle, was an irritation—one of many to come, he was sure.

  The reason for it was not a mystery to Turstin, but Nicholas was unaware of what would happen next. Turstin had returned from Tenwick and Isabel mere hours before Henry had requested his presence while he met with Nicholas. He stood now, more tired than annoyed, but annoyed nonetheless.

  He did not want to be there. Henry had commanded him to sit, yet he stood behind Nicholas, out of the light in the corner of the drafty room. This man, Nicholas, was the brother by marriage of his betrothed and was the husband of Gemma de Vere —and the family savior, if one believed the stories. That made Nicolas his enemy, though they would soon be related.

  "I cannot grant your request," Henry said to Nicholas, breaking his long silence. "I have already chosen a man to wed Isabel. Aye, I have thought this over. I know how much you care for the girl, but there are problems I need to fix, my friend. In time, you will understand my choices."

  "Isabel is unlike other women. She witnessed what happened to her sister when she was but a child. It has scarred her. You cannot marry her off to just anyone," Nicholas said. He stood abruptly and slammed his ale mug down as his chair teetered and fell with a dull thud to the floor behind him. Turstin chuckled as Nicholas jerked his head to the side and glared at him.

  "And I shall not," Henry said, putting a stout hand on the table. The king’s face was serene, his eyes placid. "Please sit down, Nicholas. I will see that Isabel is well-matched, but you have to use patience, and you must trust me."

  Nicholas stood where he was as the king continued. "Too much time has passed. Isabel should have been married by now. The girl has not been the same since her sister’s kidnapping, or so you have told me, but she is sound of mind. She is a good woman. I have no doubt her new husband will treat her well and protect her, as you have asked."

  Turstin remained still. Isabel had been young when her sister was taken. He did not know the entire story, only that which had been told to him. The story had traveled, landing upon the lips of the poor, the rich, and the wicked alike. It was told in the darkest shadows of village inns, on ships, and in the halls of court. Every whisper had made Turstin angrier. Now his fate was to be tied to the youngest de Vere sister, no matter how much he hated the idea.

  "Do I know you?" Nicholas asked, taking only two powerful strides to close the distance between them. "You glare as if you would kill me, yet your face is not known to me. Why are you here?" Their eyes locked as Turstin took mental note of the man’s size and power. Nicholas radiated danger, and he would never back down. Turstin’s hand played at the hilt of his sword, but he thought better of it.

  "Nicholas!" Henry said. "Leave Turstin be. You do not know him. He has served me as well as you have and now wishes to wed and have lands of his own. Renoir is empty and to be Isabel’s, as a gift to her husband. In exchange, he will offer the protection you seek for her. Come, both of you, sit." The king beckoned for both men to join him.

  Righting his chair and sitting again, Nicholas glared at Turstin as he sat down at the far end of the table. Turstin ignored him.

  "Let us drink and celebrate, if only for a moment. I know you fear for the safety of your sister-in-law, but I think we should be happy we have men such as Turstin."

  "I am missing something," Nicholas said, shaking his head. "This man? This is the man you have chosen for Isabel? But who is he? Why have I never met him?"

  "I have no desire for this, sire. The lands you offer are not worth it. This family troubles me too deeply," Turstin said, speaking in a smooth, deep voice. "I will not marry Isabel de Vere. She is a beauty but not worth this. Her family leaves me cold and bitter. I want nothing to do with them."

  "Who are you to speak ill of my family?" Nicholas asked, this time throwing his mug to the floor.

  "My dear man," the king said, waving a servant to bring Nicholas more drink, "Did I not match you well with Gemma? Turstin is a fine man, and he would be a strong husband for Isabel. I urge you to calm yourself before I lose patience. I know what I am doing."

  "Isabel’s father did not want to force either girl to marry a man she did not like," Nicholas replied, his fists balled upon the table before him. "This one is a stranger to her and has not had the good graces to act kindly in the short time we have been here."

  "You forced Gemma."

  "Nay, you did!" Nicholas said.

  "’Tis not up to us to change the mind of the king," Turstin said. "I would be on my way otherwise."

  "I’m aware of that," Nicholas shot back at him through gritted teeth.

  "’Tis a simple matter," the king said, his rugged face awash in vibrant red hues from the leaping flames of the hearth. "Blaise de Vere died three years ago. I am sorry to Isabel and Gemma for their loss, of course, but the world continues on. Did you know, Nicholas, a man only has so much time to leave a footprint on history? I’m here in Oxford to change the world. You will see. Once Englishmen are barred from study in Paris, Oxford will be home to the most honorable university the world will ever know. Along the same lines, I believe a match between Isabel and Turstin would be beneficial —on a smaller scale, of course. ‘Tis a match to heal old wounds."

  Nicholas stared at the king but said nothing. Turstin resisted the urge to laugh at the other knight’s discomfort.

  "Turstin," the king said, his eyes never leaving the fire. "I know you have just returned from Tenwick. ‘Twas my thought to keep you here for a while, but I think it best you return to Blackstone with Nicholas immediately. You will stay with Nicholas and his family at Blackstone until you can restore Renoir and move there with your new wife."

  Nicolas let out a loud, slow groan. "Renoir has sat empty since Hugh Bigod fell. None of the family remain in the area. It might not be worth saving. ‘Twould seem
a waste, but the place is cursed. And what do you mean he has 'returned from Tenwick'? He has already met Isabel?"

  "Nicholas, ‘tis beyond you to be so senseless. Renoir is small, but ‘tis in a good location," Henry said. "Should I not wish for the extra protection of London along the Thames? And aye, he has already been introduced, quite briefly, to his intended."

  "I do not understand why you are so adamant on this matter," Nicholas said. "Have I not earned your trust, sire? Enough so that you would give me time before choosing her groom for her? How can I trust this man whom I do not know and who has nothing but distaste for our family?"

  "Aye," Turstin said, "You seem certain of your choice, Henry. I do want the lands you offer, but ‘tis obvious Nicholas objects."

  The king cleared his throat and continued. "I have made up my mind. You are both my knights and are of high value to me, but do not arouse my ire."

  "I can find a suitable husband for Isabel on my own," Nicholas said.

  "Nay," the king replied, picking at the pile of grapes in front of him. "I have made my decision. I sent for you to tell you of it, not to engage in debate."

  "It is obvious this man has no wish to be anywhere near Isabel or her family. I have always trusted your judgment, Henry, but I must beg for an explanation," Nicholas said.

  "’Tis simple," Turstin said before the king could speak. "I need a wife. Henry has promised me land in return for my loyalty. He seems fond of Isabel, so it makes sense he would allow her the honor of remaining near to her family. Renoir is close, and she shall be also."

  "What do you know of Renoir Castle?" Nicholas asked.

  "I know enough."

  "I wish to be as certain of the merits of this match as you, Henry," Nicholas said to the king.

  "So," Henry said, standing up, "Turstin will marry Isabel. Once they are wed, Renoir will be a home again."

  "Do not do this, milord," Nicholas said through clenched teeth. "I can easily…"

  "I know you could. I know you could find someone who would wed the lovely Isabel and all would be well. I know you worry more for her than you should because of the past. However, I have made up my mind. I will have unity on my lands so I can attend to other business. I will have Renoir occupied again."

  "Nay," Nicholas said forcefully. "He’ll not care for her. She’ll be lost to us. He despises us for a reason I do not know."

  "He is worthy," Henry said as he showed the men out. "Turstin has been the able knight when I needed one. I have been fair with you, and now it is your turn to be fair with me. Rein in your frustrations and doubt. He is a fine match for Isabel. It would be wise to have him accompany you to retrieve your sister from Lord Beret at Tenwick upon the morrow. You will soon see she will not be harmed."

  Henry glanced briefly at Turstin. "See to it." The king then strode across the room to where his messenger sat waiting. "Turstin, go with Nicholas to Blackstone. Nicholas will host you as his guest until you can safely reside within the walls of Renoir. I can change my mind about gifting the lands to you, so use patience with your new bride. Isabel is quite a lovely woman. She will please you greatly in time."

  Chapter Three

  Following with as much space between them as possible, Turstin rode far behind Nicholas back to Blackstone Castle. His men had already been sent to Renoir with instructions. Stone had been ordered, and men had been found to dig more from the quarry farther up the river. He relied now on Nicholas’ men, should trouble arise. Though he did not like it, he wished Renoir Castle to be restored in all due haste.

  They rode hard through the dense forest, going south until they came upon the Thames, and then skirted the river until they arrived. Blackstone stood proudly on the river banks, at the point where the River Thames met the River Lea. Nicholas did not look back, and Turstin made no effort to catch up. The quicker this was over, the sooner he could get on with his life at Renoir. He did not want to be friends with Nicholas, and he dreaded the time he would have to spend with the de Vere family at Blackstone.

  Though Turstin refused to ride with Nicholas, he watched intently. Nicholas had been speaking with the men who rode with him, when he had pointed at a large stronghold an hour or so before they neared Blackstone. It was Tenwick, where he had met his betrothed. The king had only told him so much about her, but he was still trying to decide how to be at ease with the idea of being married to Isabel. She was beautiful—he had to admit—and she had not been unpleasant. The problem was not her as much as her family. He would do as the king ordered, as nothing meant more to him than claiming what life had so cruelly stolen from him.

  When they reached Blackstone, the gate rose as the dusk of night descended. They had made excellent time. Nicholas disappeared within. Turstin halted his horse and stared at the castle. His memories of his childhood were dim. He had visions of a hall lit with fire, trestle tables loaded down with a feast, and family surrounding him. That had been long ago, and when he left for Normandy with his father at the age of seven, he had never returned. His family, as he remembered it, was long gone. Turstin’s jaw clenched as anger welled. Blackstone was complete while he was starting anew, fighting the unknown.

  With a tap of his heel, he urged his destrier into motion. As he neared the open gate, it occurred to him how difficult this would be. Turstin would have to live temporarily at Blackstone and trust the king. He had spent the last decade refusing to tell anyone his family name. To be in the home of Nicholas and Gemma was almost too much to bear.

  Pulling his helmet over his eyes, he entered the gate, and his destrier trotted haughtily across the lowered drawbridge spanning the moat. He sat tall on his horse, one hand near the hilt of his sword. An array of sounds met his ears, and his pain grew. What did Renoir sound like? The lands sat barren and lifeless, the gardens overgrown and useless, and he had no one. His family had dispersed with the wind, living throughout England, Normandy, and who knew where else.

  A shriek of laughter caught his attention. Two small girls played together. Next to them was a woman. Her eyes were trained on him as he moved toward the center of the outer bailey. The woman’s long, brown, sun-kissed hair was tied back, her eyes never leaving him. As she reached down to take the hands of both girls, she called out to a boy of nine or ten years and urged them all to come with her.

  Turstin watched Gemma de Vere and her children run toward the stables to meet Nicholas. She did not look back as her children raced to greet their father. Resentment stirred within Turstin again as he watched the children jump on their father as he fell to the ground in mock defeat. The laughter echoed off the walls. After a few minutes, the woman pulled the children from their father and greeted him with a lingering kiss.

  Nicholas lifted an arm and beckoned Turstin to come. Unable to do anything else, he trotted toward the stables, removing his helmet as he rode. He jumped from his destrier, much to the delight of the eldest child.

  "Sir, what a grand horse!" the boy said. The lad had hair as dark as his father’s. His eyes were a fierce green, much like those of his mother. He was tall and slender, and his expression was that of a serious young man.

  "Thank you." Turstin said. "His name is Slash, for he has a long scar on his rump. He loves apples, but be sure you do not approach him alone, do you hear?"

  The boy’s eyes widened as he stared at Turstin. "Truly?"

  "Aye, do not approach him without your father’s assistance," Turstin said. Children were his weakness. He noticed the two girls, peeking out at him from behind their mother’s skirt. They were miniature versions of their mother, with hair a few shades darker. No matter how he felt about this family, the children were adorable. The sight of them lightened his heart considerably.

  "I will be a knight like my father. I am not scared of any beast," the boy said, planting his hands on his narrow hips.

  "But this one is ornery. ‘Tis best to handle him with care. Any future knight knows when to charge and when to use caution, aye?"

  "I suppose," the boy s
aid, tilting his head. "Who are you, sir?"

  "Miles, this is Turstin, another of Henry’s knights," Nicholas said. "He will be staying on at Blackstone for a while."

  "Indeed?" Gemma’s eyes widened as she stared him down once more. "From where do you come, Turstin?"

  "I have been in Normandy for quite a spell on the king’s business. I have only recently returned, and I have been sent by Henry upon his request."

  Nicholas grunted but said nothing more as his son moved to his side, eyeing the stranger.

  "I shall forever be indebted to the king," Gemma said in a polite voice. "He is a wise man."

  "I am weary, milady. I simply ask for a good night of rest. On the morrow, I am to accompany your husband to Tenwick to bring home your sister," Turstin said, wanting desperately to get away from this cozy family scene. His stomach was starting to turn, and his heart was hammering against his ribs. What would they think if they knew the real story of why he claimed to have no family? Would they pity him, or would they hate him? He did not care. The sooner he could marry the girl and restore Renoir, the sooner he could leave this place.

  "I shall have the guest quarters aired. You may join us for supper this eve, if you wish," Gemma said.

  "The bed is all I need, and mayhap a meal sent to my room," Turstin said, preparing to walk his horse to the stables. "Nicholas has insisted we leave at dawn. I do not want to be a burden."

  "Of course you are not!" Gemma replied, her face a mask of confusion. "You are welcome. I am sure Henry was wise sending you here, though I must say I am surprised he chose to send you here rather than giving you quarters in London. I assume you will stay until you can set up your own residence?"

  "You could put it in those words," Turstin replied and then chuckled.

  "Just leave it," Nicholas said before his wife could continue. "Turstin will accompany me to bring Isabel home. Prepare for her return. I shall explain the rest to you later."