by Alexa Aston
Marcus took her hands in his. This time, she didn’t yank away.
“Thank you for spending some time with me today,” he said. “I enjoyed being in your company.”
“I enjoyed it, as well.”
They stood gazing at one another. Jessimond suddenly had a fierce urge to kiss him. Such a thought had never crossed her mind before.
As if he knew what went on inside her head, Marcus asked, “Have you ever been kissed, Jess?”
“Nay,” she whispered, her heart beating rapidly.
He bent and brushed warm lips against her cheek. Her fingers tightened against his as light filled her. His breath fanned hot against her face. She turned her head slightly so her mouth could meet his. Before it did, Agatha called out.
“Ready, Jess!”
Marcus released her hands and stepped away. Disappointment flooded Jessimond.
“Coming!” she called over her shoulder.
As she turned, Marcus caught her elbow and turned her so that they faced one another.
“A first kiss is something special, Jess,” he said softly. “It takes time—and requires privacy. I promise you this—we’ll find both.
“Soon.”
Chapter 6
Marcus gnawed on a hard crust of bread and washed it down with some ale. He and Rand rose earlier than usual, since today they would need to break down the tents and load the wagons in order for the troupe to head to their next venue. Elias had said it would be the estate of Lord Guy Tibbett and his wife, Lady Jeanette. Once the carts were ready, they would travel all of today and part of tomorrow, arriving at Fullminster mid-afternoon.
By now, he and Rand had done this several times and had a pattern down. They made sure everything had been cleared from the tents and all of the trunks loaded before they tackled striking the tents. Though the actors all pitched in, the two knights did the bulk of the work. Marcus wondered what the Vawdrys had done before he and Rand had come along.
After feeding Storm, his horse, he was soon hard at work—but Marcus still had time to think about Jess Gilpin.
He’d watched the blond beauty for the past week before he approached her yesterday. He noted how diligently she worked but how easily her laugh came as the mummers shared a meal and conversation every evening. Marcus hadn’t tired of looking at her and enjoyed when she spoke, which wasn’t often. Her low, musical voice sounded as smooth as velvet. While he noted her sweet, kind nature, it surprised him that she could be outspoken and opinionated when pressed—and that those opinions were thoughtful and had substance.
In many ways, Jess reminded him of his mother. Margaret de Harte was not only a noted beauty; she proved practical and intelligent. She’d ruled Harte Castle with a firm but gentle hand, assisting everyone so that they worked together to make Hartefield run smoothly. She was well versed in not only domestic issues but knew about livestock and crops and how best to manage an estate, things that had never held his father’s interest.
His mother would have approved of Jess.
When the seed had been planted, Marcus didn’t know. It formed gradually within him but the more he was around Jess, the more certain he became.
Jess Gilpin would make him an excellent wife.
True, she was of peasant stock but she carried herself with both grace and dignity. Since she’d been a servant inside the castle walls of Kinwick and seemed most observant, Marcus had no doubt she would be able to run a household if given the task. Next to his mother, Jess was the most capable woman he’d met. Already, she had the mummers eating from the palm of her hand. He saw how she truly listened to each one and treated them as individuals, always showing respect. She was friendly without being overfamiliar. Intelligent without rubbing others’ noses in it.
And enough of a challenge that Marcus knew he would have to work at winning her affection.
The fact that she’d never been kissed appealed to him immensely. To know no man had come before him, sampling those sweet lips and touching her curves, gave him satisfaction.
Marcus could only imagine what Rand would think if he shared these notions with his friend—which is why he’d kept silent. Rand would howl with laughter when Marcus told him he’d decided to wed, much less that it would be Jess. Rand would remind him of how many women he’d coupled with in the last few months and how Marcus had enjoyed it.
He had—to a point. But somewhere along the line, all the women had become nameless and faceless as he searched for something deeper. Something more meaningful.
Something he thought he had a chance to capture with Jess Gilpin.
That’s why he’d bided his time. Approached her slowly. Now, he would woo her carefully as summer unfolded and eventually fled, turning to autumn. The Vawdrys had told him they usually brought their tour to an end by the beginning of October, even mentioning they would finish the season at Glenmore, in Suffolk. Ironically enough, Glenmore, home of Lord Simeon de Grey, was the estate situated to the west of Hartefield. The mummers’ travels would be complete and Marcus would finally be home, where he knew duties awaited him.
He planned to return to Harte Castle with Rand—and Jess.
All it would take now would be convincing her. Marcus sensed she understood the simmering attraction between them. He had felt it from the moment they met. He would court her carefully over these next weeks so that by the time they arrived at Glenmore and the troupe dissolved, she would be more than willing to become his bride. Marcus didn’t care what his father thought of Jess’ low birth. She offered much more than any noblewoman he’d met. He looked forward to their spirited discussions, both in and out of bed.
And teaching her everything she needed to know about love play.
His cock began to respond at that thought and, immediately, Marcus began to conjugate Latin verbs in his head. Nothing dulled him more quickly than repeating the Latin that his tutor had ground into him before he left to foster. The exercise had helped put him to sleep many a night when the sounds and smells of battle refused to leave him in peace.
As he heaved a trunk from the ground and rested it atop his shoulder, Gylbart joined him, carrying a smaller one. The actor was lean and lithe, and Marcus had taught him a few moves with a sword since he and Rand had joined the troupe. Oftentimes, the plays included sword fighting. All the actors tried their hand at it, but Gylbart wanted to be known as the best in their little group. Marcus suspected ’twas because Gylbart had plans to knock King Ralph off his throne. All the actors referred to the lead actor in that manner since Ralph tried to control every aspect of each play and, without fail, always won the lead role in the plays performed. If the Vawdrys didn’t start sharing the wealth more and passing around the choice roles so that others might have a chance, they might have open rebellion on their hands.
Or find themselves short a mummer or two.
“King Ralph is interested in performing some new plays,” Gylbart confided. “He’s already met with Jess and told her what kinds of costumes he’ll need her to produce.”
“Has he mentioned this to Elias or Moss?” Marcus countered, thinking Ralph bold to have already cornered Jess, demanding more costumes be made.
“I suppose so,” the mummer said sullenly. “I still don’t see why he wins the lead in all the plays we do. He’s not nearly as talented as he thinks he is.”
They reached a wagon and both men hefted their loads in its bed. “But Ralph is a quick study,” Marcus pointed out. “He knows his lines and everyone else’s.”
“True. But I’m starting to be better with a sword now, thanks to you, Marcus. I hope you’ll give me more lessons soon.”
“I can do that,” he promised, knowing it would take quite a bit of work to make Gylbart more believable in a staged sword fight.
The two men went back to the tents and joined the others, pulling up stakes now that the last of the trunks had been loaded.
“The stew last night was most delicious,” Gylbart said. “I’m glad Jess will take over the cookin
g from Agatha. Reba did it the last few years.”
“Who is Reba?” Marcus inquired.
“Agatha’s older sister. Their mother used to sew all our costumes and cook for us. She died several years ago and the two girls remained with the troupe. Reba took over the cooking and sewing until last season. She found a man she couldn’t live without and left the mummers to wed him.”
“So she left Agatha behind?”
“Aye. The poor girl had nowhere else to go. Reba was so wrapped up in her new lover that I doubt she gave her a sister a thought.”
“How old is Agatha?”
Gylbart pondered a moment. “I think ten and five now.”
“And where does she go when the mummers retire from the road each year?”
The actor shrugged. “I haven’t a clue.”
As the tents slowly came down, Marcus decided when he returned to Harte Castle that he would offer Agatha the choice to come with him and work in the keep. He thought he might have to do the same with Peter Gilpin. Jess and her brother were especially close. Marcus didn’t think they would care to be split up. The castle was large and had plenty of room and in a week, Peter had proven to be an excellent worker, both bright and industrious. Marcus would be able to find something for the young man to do at Harte Castle.
He finally caught sight of Jess coming toward him. She had several cups in her hand, giving them to the actors as she passed by.
Reaching him with the final one, she said, “May I offer you something to drink? You look parched with all the loading you are doing.”
Marcus rose and grasped the cup, allowing his fingers to graze hers as he took it. Her cheeks pinkened slightly. He longed for the day when he did things to her body that would cause not only a blush to rise, but a fever to take hold of her.
The fever of desire.
His desire for her had grown over this past week. Marcus knew it would continue to rise as they remained in close quarters. He would need to keep it in check and not frighten her away.
But, as he’d promised her last night, he would find a time and place to kiss her. To thoroughly explore those berry-colored lips. Nip and lick them as he listened to her moan. It would be difficult. Not only would he need to be free of any mummers stumbling across them but far enough away from any crowds that also attended the faire.
As much as he wanted this, Marcus was determined to find that occasion. Multiple times. Already, he fantasized about Jess as he lay awake at night. He’d done the same today as they prepared to leave Kinwick. For his own sake, he needed to kiss her.
Soon.
Downing the liquid in one swallow, he returned the cup to her. “Thank you, Jess. I certainly needed some refreshment.”
She glanced around. “Will we leave before long?”
“Aye. When this last tent comes down.”
He paused. Though he’d ridden Storm each time they’d left for a new place, Marcus decided Jess would never accompany him that way. At least, not yet. Mayhap in time, she would agree to ride nestled against him. For now, he had a different idea.
“If you haven’t a place set to ride yet, I would enjoy your company as I drive one of the wagons.”
Those amethyst eyes seemed to see right through him as she studied him a moment. “All right,” she agreed, twirling the cup. “I will see you shortly.”
*
Jessimond tucked her possessions into the wagon, carefully sliding in her lute and cushioning the instrument with her spare clothes on either side. Her case of medicinal herbs went after it. She looked in the distance and could see Kinwick rising majestically. A lump formed in her throat. She hadn’t seen her parents in the week she’d lived among the mummers, nor Hal or Elinor and their children. Now, she would ride off without saying goodbye.
Blinking back tears, she avoided the large horse tied to the back of the vehicle and came around to the front of the cart. Marcus already sat on the bench. He gave her a ready smile and leaned down, his fingers capturing her waist and lifting her to him. Jessimond sat and found Marcus took up most of the bench, his thighs as large as tree trunks. She had nowhere else to go and wiggled her behind, trying to lodge into place. Still, her leg rested snuggly against his, as did her shoulder. She barely had space to claim as her own.
She rather liked it.
“Are you sad?” he asked.
“A little,” she admitted. “Kinwick has always been home.” Though she had spent large amounts of time away from the estate, it had always been to visit her siblings and other relatives. This time, Jessimond would be on her own.
“You’ll enjoy the road,” Marcus predicted. “If you are adventurous enough to leave the employ of a kind noblewoman, you are ready for anything.”
With a flick of his wrists, the horses surged forward.
They didn’t talk for the longest while but Jessimond didn’t mind. She enjoyed sitting next to Marcus and watching the passing countryside. England in spring was always beautiful as nature came to life again, but she’d found she enjoyed the full bloom of summer even more and then the wild colors of autumn that followed.
After they’d left Kinwick lands far behind, Marcus began humming one of the songs Bartholomew sang when he entertained the crowds before a play began. Jessimond joined in, humming softly, and finally began to sing. Gradually, he ceased and allowed her to finish the song.
“You should be the one singing, not Bartholomew,” he told her. “Have you always sung? I noticed you brought a lute with you.”
“I received it as a gift many years ago. ’Tis my most treasured possession.” Actually, her amethyst brooch was what she cherished most, a link with who she had been before she became a de Montfort, but she couldn’t reveal that. “When I strum its strings,” she continued, “it seems to become a part of me. I enjoy singing and do so whenever I can.”
“Mayhap you can entertain us as you cook each night. I can’t thank you enough for easing into that task.”
“Several people complimented me after last night’s meal. I enjoyed preparing it. And Agatha was most helpful. Did you know her parents used to be a part of the troupe until they passed away?”
“I’d heard her mother once cooked and sewed for the group, and that she had a sister who also worked for the Vawdrys until last season when she left to wed.”
Jessimond frowned. “She didn’t take Agatha with her?” She didn’t anger often but the thought of Agatha being abandoned by her only relative caused Jessimond pain. She determined when the season ended and the troupe disbanded for winter that she would bring Agatha with her to Bexley and on to Kinwick. Merryn would mother the orphan and find work for Agatha. She might even enjoy helping Elinor manage her growing brood.
They drove for many hours and finally stopped as the sun began to descend upon the horizon. No tents would be raised tonight. Instead, the mummers and vendors who traveled along with them would either sleep in their wagons or place their pallets on the ground under the night sky. Jessimond saw that they ate a hearty, flavorful soup and served some of the bread Moss had purchased today as they traveled. The remainder of it would be for breaking their fast in the morning.
As they sat in a circle, Jopp spoke up. “I heard you singing today, Jess. It was pretty.”
“You sing?” A sleepy Bartholomew sat up, now interested in the conversation.
“Some.”
“Jess is being modest,” Marcus interjected. “Her voice is quite good.”
“We should sing together.” The troubadour retrieved his lute. “Come, Jess. Sit next to me.”
She set aside her tin plate and moved to the log Bartholomew rested his back against.
“What songs do you know?”
Jess chuckled. “Every one you sing and many more.”
“Join in when I tell you.”
Bartholomew began strumming the strings and started to sing a ballad. When he reached the chorus, he gave Jess a nod. She joined in, harmonizing beautifully, and then sang the next verse by herself.
Marcus enjoyed not only her rich voice but her celestial looks. He almost believed God had placed an earthly angel among them.
One that he was determined to make his.
The song ended and enthusiastic applause for the duo broke out. They acknowledged the compliments tossed their way.
Elias said, “We’ve wasted you on sewing, Jess. You need to be singing in front of the crowds.”
“Nay, that is Bartholomew’s task. Not mine. Besides, I have plenty to keep me busy.”
The troubadour draped an arm around her. “I insist you sing with me, Jess.” He gave her a charming smile.
Marcus noticed the man’s fingers squeeze her playfully. A sudden rage filled him. He wanted to smash his fist into the musician’s handsome face.
Rand leaned close and whispered, “Don’t do it.”
He whipped his head around and glared at his friend.
“You’ll frighten your little songbird if you resort to violence. She might fly away for good,” Rand told him, a knowing look on his face. “Besides, she’s not yours. Yet.” He chuckled quietly.
Marcus glanced back at Jess’ flushed, happy face as she and Bartholomew began another tune. It struck him like a lightning bolt flashing in the sky.
He was jealous.
Chapter 7
Marcus finished securing Storm to the back of the wagon, eager to be on the road to Fullminster, their next stop.
Or eager for Jess to ride with him again. He’d enjoyed the time they’d spent together alone on the road as they traveled to Lord Guy’s estate and hoped the blond beauty would agree to accompany him today. They wouldn’t reach Fullminster until afternoon, giving him several hours to spend in conversation with her.
He turned and saw Jess approaching and gave her a smile. “Ready for another day of travel?” he asked pleasantly. “I’ve room in my wagon if you wish to travel with me. As the first wagon in our caravan, it will be easier to view the passing sights.”
“I am excited to be moving to a new estate,” she began, “but I’ll be riding with Elias. We have business to discuss about costumes for the new plays Ralph wishes to perform.”