by Alexa Aston
None of them had looked like Tristan Therolde. Smelled like Tristan Therolde. Exuded a quiet power and strength as this nobleman did.
She wondered what he tasted like.
“What did you say?”
By the Christ—had she spoken aloud?
Glancing around, she sputtered, “What the venison tastes like. I asked what the venison might taste like. The last time ’twas a bit tough. Very unlike Cook. Usually, her meat is beyond tender and swimming in its juices.”
“Ah.” Lord Tristan nodded to himself and picked up his cup of wine.
Nan could not afford to be rattled around this man. She took a deep breath, something Hal long ago had taught her to do if she became frightened or flustered. Exhaling slowly, she felt more in control.
As another servant brought the tray of venison to them, Lord Tristan chose several pieces for them to share. A small round of cheese and fruit were also placed by their trencher. Nan bit into a pear and chewed it thoroughly, thinking how to make conversation. She was never at a loss when speaking to others and hadn’t a clue why things had suddenly changed.
Swallowing, she asked, “Where do you reside, Lord Tristan? Is your home far from Sandbourne?”
He grew still. “Thorpe Castle lies in Essex.”
Nan shivered involuntarily. Essex and Kent had been the site where the peasants’ rebellion had begun a handful of years ago. Her sister-in-law, Margery, had lost her mother during the violent outbreak. The poor invalid had been murdered in her own bed while Margery remained hidden from sight, unable to save her own flesh and blood.
“Ancel, my eldest brother, was in the king’s guard when the revolt began,” she began. “He was sent to Essex to help quell it. I worried about him constantly.”
“’Twas a difficult time for many,” he commented brusquely.
Their conversation died after that. Though Nan tried several times to engage him in talk, the earl proved taciturn. Finally, she gave up and they ate in silence. At first, Nan felt she might have said something wrong but didn’t know what. Surely, asking him where he lived wasn’t too personal a question. She wondered how long he had been an earl. He looked to be a few years over a score. It could be that his father died young and Lord Tristan had heavy responsibilities thrust upon him at a young age, which might have made him grow serious. Or mayhap, he wasn’t meant to be the earl originally. He could have had an older brother who laid claim to the title. Possibly, this brother had passed away and that’s what made the nobleman so sad. As they ate, Nan spun stories about him in her head. She had always done so from the time she was young. Her parents had often laughed at her vivid imagination.
The trencher emptied. Nan saw the workers beginning to stand and return the trestle tables against the walls, signaling that the meal had come to an end.
Turning to her seatmate, she said, “I am afraid I failed miserably taking Elysande’s place tonight. She is a gracious hostess and would have been here to entertain you if not for Ginger.”
Lord Tristan’s eyes flickered in interest. “The horse about to foal?”
“Aye,” Nan said. “I see she told you. That is why she is absent from the meal tonight.”
“But that was several hours ago,” he pointed out.
“Oh, it might take all night before Ginger produces her foal,” she confided. “Elysande is dedicated to her horses as much as her own children.” She smiled. “And Michael is dedicated to his wife. They were a love match from the beginning.”
He frowned in disapproval. “I don’t believe in such things.”
His firm tone surprised her. “You don’t believe in love matches?”
“Nay. I don’t believe in love.”
Chapter 3
Tristan saw Lady Nan’s lips part, a quizzical look upon her face. He had to draw on all the willpower he held not to lean over and sink his teeth into her full, bottom lip. The maid had tempted him since they’d sat down to their meal. Even now, a tantalizing floral scent teased his nostrils, making him want to bury his nose against her flesh.
Nan de Montfort made him feel things he hadn’t experienced in years. Things he’d pushed aside when he became the Earl of Leventhorpe and tried to put the shattered pieces of his life back together. He had no remorse for the man he’d become, one far different than the outgoing, adventurous boy he’d been. But with her enthusiasm for life and playful spirit, Lady Nan made Tristan long for those days far in his past.
He mentally locked those thoughts away. He was here to buy horses and, hopefully, find a man for his sister to wed. As head of the Therolde family, it was his obligation to see Gillian settled.
“You don’t believe in love?” she asked softly, pity for him reflected in her eyes.
“Nay. Why should I believe in something that cannot be seen and doesn’t exist?”
She pursed her lips. “You cannot see the sun at night, my lord, yet I am sure you believe it will rise each morning in the east. Love is the same. ’Tis something that may grow over time or it can come from a place hidden deep within your heart that you never knew existed.”
He shrugged. “So you say.”
“You have no affection for anything, Lord Tristan? Your land? Your family? Mayhap even your horse or sword? Surely, you feel something for these things,” she insisted.
“I have an obligation to my land and its tenants. The same with my sister. I take care of my horse and my weapons so that they function properly. Love plays no role in these responsibilities.”
“Merely an obligation to your sister? Is she your only family?”
“She is. And as she’s coming of age to be wed, I am obliged to find her a husband. Then she will become his responsibility.” He gazed at her a long moment, mesmerized by her deep blue eyes. “Tell me, my lady. Do you believe in love?”
Her features softened. “I do believe in the power of love, my lord. I have had a shining example before me for many years. My parents, though betrothed when young, loved each other from an early age. Their love has only grown stronger over their many years together.” She sighed. “I am also fortunate to have seen all my older siblings make love matches, as well, three brothers and a sister.”
“And do you already love your betrothed, Lady Nan?”
Her laughter sounded like music to his ears. “I have no betrothed, Lord Tristan, and have no intention of entering a betrothal anytime soon.”
He frowned. “Your parents have not done their duty and arranged a marriage for you?”
“Nay. They didn’t betroth any of their children. They wanted us to follow our hearts and find love on our own.” Her intense gaze caused Tristan’s stomach to twist. “If I do find love one day, my lord, I promise you that I will not let it slip through my fingers. I will hold fast to it and cherish the man who brings it to me.”
She ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “And what of you? Do you have a wife—or a betrothed?”
“Nay. I suppose someday I must wed. I will need a son to pass along my title and the Leventhorpe lands.”
“What if you fell in love with this wife you one day wed?” Nan mused.
Tristan shook his head. “That would not happen. As I told you before, I do not believe in it.”
She laughed again, her eyes bright with mischief. “I hope the day comes when a woman wriggles her way into your heart, my lord. I think you might be pleasantly surprised. In the meantime, during your stay at Sandbourne, take note of how happy Elysande and Michael are. They might be able to show you what is missing from your own life when you see the richness love brings to theirs.”
Lady Nan rose. “I bid you a good evening, Lord Tristan.”
She left the dais shaking her head, as if she could not quite believe the conversation they’d shared. Tristan watched her go, puzzled by the emotions she stirred within him. Nan de Montfort was an enticing minx. Today in the butts, she had shown all the prowess and skill of any archer he had known. Focused and competitive, Tristan believed she could have defeated
any challenger. Then tonight, she appeared dressed as the noblewoman she was, alluring and utterly feminine. Her cotehardie fit her curves snuggly. It emphasized her small waist and showed off enough of her bosom to keep his eyes coming back to it repeatedly.
She sought out Toby and Stephen and spoke to them at length. Another soldier joined them, fair and ginger-haired, about Nan’s height but heavily muscled through his chest and arms. The foursome laughed often and Tristan found himself longing to be a part of their conversation.
Then she bid his men farewell and left with the soldier, who put his hand on the small of her back as he guided her across the room and through the doors. Jealousy flared suddenly within Tristan, a feeling he had never known. Without thinking, he sprang to his feet and followed the couple from the great hall, waving away Stephen as he passed by him. He searched the space outside the great hall and didn’t see them. A hard lump sat unmoving in the pit of his stomach as he supposed the pair had sneaked away in order to be alone. Mayhap this man was a knight. The one Lady Nan might find love with. Tristan burned with rage, thinking of this man putting his hands on her. His lips. Thrusting his cock inside her.
Blind fury drove him outside where he could get fresh air and cool off. He opened the door to the keep and stepped outside.
And saw Nan and the man walking across the bailey.
Without receiving any orders, his feet moved of their own accord, following the two at a distance. The soldier took her hand and led her away from the keep and the light. Tristan increased his stride as he heard her laughter wafting through the cool air. He had no idea what he would do when he caught up with them. Nevertheless, he pushed forward, trying to calm himself as he moved.
“I have no claim to this woman,” he muttered to himself. “I shouldn’t get involved.”
Yet, he continued to track them until they entered the stables. At that moment, his emotions stirred rapidly, a swirl of anger and jealousy and hurt. He had no idea how old Lady Nan was, possibly a score or even less. As skilled as she was with her bow and arrow, it told him she had spent many hours in practice, most likely alone. That meant far less time with other women. Women who might have shared with her the dangers of going willingly to a darkened stall at night with a man.
Nan de Montfort might be adept with a weapon but she did not understand the ways of the world. The man who accompanied her could easily overpower her and bend her to his will—and she had no bow to use against him. This fool of a girl probably went in search of that very thing that she believed in—love. Tristan had warned her it did not exist. A fierce need to protect the dark-haired beauty overtook him. He hurried to the stables and stepped inside.
He spied the pair well in front of him, a lit lantern in the man’s hand. Tristan tracked them, turning twice when they did, horses nickering as he passed them. As he rounded a corner, he heard voices and saw the couple had stopped in front of a stall. Tristan came up behind them and paused in the shadows.
“What a beauty!” Nan exclaimed. “Was it a difficult birth, Elysande?”
“Ginger did well for it being her first time. David taking her outside helped soothe her nerves.”
“The hardest part was waiting for the placenta,” Lord Michael said. “It took nearly five hours for it all to come out, but we got every bit of it.” He wrapped an arm about his wife’s waist and pulled her close before pressing his lips to her temple.
Tristan saw the smile that lit the countess’ face. She rested a palm against her husband’s chest and then patted him.
“Michael has learned patience over the years,” the noblewoman said. “I cannot think of a better partner to be with me each time a foal is born.”
“What am I?” her son complained good-naturedly as he stroked the newborn nursing from its mother’s teat.
“You are the best of your mother and me,” his father retorted. “You will make an excellent earl and you’re already a wonderful horseman.” The earl looked back at his wife. “And I hope you find a woman to have by your side that you will adore as much as I do mine.” He tenderly kissed Lady Elysande.
Tristan stood there, numb. In the space of a minute, he had witnessed a depth of emotion unlike any he had seen before. And the earl openly kissing his wife in front of others seemed so natural. Their son stood and began to brush the new mother as Lady Nan and her companion stepped into the stall and fussed over the newborn, who had finished its meal.
“Have you a name yet for the little one, my lady?” asked the man Tristan did not know.
“This one is a girl, Drewett, and she began walking faster than any foal I’ve ever seen. Because of that, I am calling her Argo. Why would I do that?”
“You cannot fool me, Lady Elysande,” the man named Drewett replied. “Lord Geoffrey makes sure all his pages and squires are tutored in both Latin and Greek. I remember those lessons all too well. Argo means swift.”
“Father will be impressed you retained that knowledge, Drew,” Lady Nan told her companion. She nudged him playfully with her elbow.
Tristan noticed the two no longer held hands and realized the man had probably taken hers in a gentlemanly fashion to guide Nan in the dark since only a few torches lit the bailey. The way she teased him was like that of a sister to her brother. From what these people had revealed, he surmised this Drewett was a squire in service to Nan’s father. Tristan wondered why he was here at Sandbourne if he fostered with the de Montforts.
“Is that you, Lord Tristan?” Lady Elysande called out.
He moved from the shadows into the light. “Aye, my lady. I was curious about this horse you spoke of, especially when you did not appear for the evening meal. I decided to come to the stables and see what all the fuss was about.” He hesitated. “I hope I am not interrupting.”
His hostess smiled. “We have a new foal. This is Argo, my lord.” She paused. “I am sure you met Lady Nan this evening. I hope you enjoyed a pleasant meal.”
“We did sup together,” Nan said, looking at him with curiosity. “I don’t think you have met my best friend, however.” She indicated her companion. “Lord Tristan Therolde, I would like to introduce you to Drewett Stollars. Drew has fostered with my family for many years and will undergo his Oath of Knighthood Ceremony early next year.”
Stollars extended a hand. “A pleasure, my lord. I did meet your two men this evening and enjoyed our time together.”
“Aye, Sir Stephen and Sir Toby are most charming,” Lady Nan said. “They make conversation so easily.” She gave him a wicked smile.
Tristan understood that she teased him for being so silent while they dined.
“Talk comes easily to those two. They are both charming men and capable knights.”
“And you, my lord?” Her lashes fluttered at him.
“My skills do not involve the art of conversation. I find it highly overrated. I believe actions speak the loudest and prefer them to do the talking for me.”
A loud grumble sounded. Lord Michael said, “Well, my stomach has announced ’tis high time I fill it after all these hours supporting Argo’s birth.” He clasped his wife’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. “What say you, my love? Shall we go to the solar and dine? Especially since you seemed to gobble up what I brought from the kitchen hours ago.”
Lady Elysande blushed prettily. “You know I get nervous during a birth and eating calms me, Husband.” She turned to her son. “Stay another hour or so, David. If all is well, you may leave them for the night.”
“Aye, Mother.”
Tristan followed the others from the stables. Drewett Stollars bid them a good night and headed toward the barracks. Tristan found himself walking beside Lady Nan at a more leisurely pace while the earl and countess left them behind.
“’Tis nice that you have a friend who accompanied you to Sandbourne,” he ventured, doing his best to initiate conversation with her.
“Drew and I are as brother and sister,” she informed him, “though it did not start th
at way. I hated him the first year he lived at Kinwick. He always poked and needled me. He belittled me for being a girl. Called me names and pulled pranks on me.”
Tristan stopped and turned toward her. “Something tells me that you didn’t let him get away with that for long.”
She chuckled. “We were at each other’s throats for months. Drew resented having to partner with me in training exercises.”
“You trained . . . in the yard? With men all around you?” Tristan could actually imagine her being there, a small, thin child, determined to do everything the other boys did.
Lady Nan turned and began walking again. Tristan fell into step with her.
“Aye. I longed to be a page and become a squire and finally a knight. Father convinced me that wouldn’t be possible but he willingly opened his world to me. All de Montfort children receive a wooden sword from Raynor Le Roux, my father’s cousin and closest friend. I was taught how to use it and other weapons from the time I was six. I knew much more than Drew did when he arrived at Kinwick. We finally became allies instead of enemies and have been close ever since.”
“You mentioned your older brothers at dinner.”
“Ah, you were actually listening. I wondered about that. All three of them served in the king’s royal guard at one point. The middle one, Hal, taught me the most about weapons and strategy. He took me hunting and fishing. Hal is the one who first put a bow in my hands.” She paused. “Lest you think I am some heathen, I did learn the womanly arts, as well. I know about gardening and sewing, though I don’t really enjoy either activity. I never could sing well but I whistle better than most.
“And not to brag, but I make the best candles for miles around.”
“I am impressed with the variety in your skills, my lady. You are the most accomplished noblewoman of my acquaintance.”
She eyed him warily. “I have the feeling you don’t have a large circle of acquaintances, Lord Tristan. Especially noblewomen.”