The Return of Her Lost Knight

by Melissa Oliver

  ‘I am very, very hungry.’ He skipped along with the dog jumping at his heels. ‘Can Gwen come?’

  ‘Oh, no, I would not want to inconvenience anyone.’

  ‘Not at all, I would be delighted for a friend of... William’s to join us for a light repast.’ Lady Isabel smiled.

  ‘In that case, it would be my pleasure, my lady.’

  ‘Please,’ she shook her head ‘...we do not stand on any formalities here. Call me Isabel.’

  ‘Thank you and I am... Gwen.’

  * * *

  They had tucked into delicious rounds of cheese, sliced ham and chicken and dried fruits, washed down with a spiced wine, watered down so that young William could also partake in slurping it inside the tent that Isabel de Clancey shared with her husband. Gwen watched in fascination at the rapport and friendship between Eleanor Tallany and Isabel, whom were both quite different from the usual ladies at court. She couldn’t help but warm to both women, as they insisted she accompanied them to watch the rest of the combat practice.

  ‘Now, William, you will remember this time that you cannot shout Ralph’s name, as you did before,’ Eleanor Tallany admonished her young son as she passed her infant daughter to the nursemaid.

  ‘I promise, Mama.’ He raised his hand. ‘I swear on the holy saints.’

  The women laughed as Gwen flushed, knowing where he’d heard the phrase just moments ago.

  ‘I’m sure you shall.’ Isabel also relinquished her young babe to the older woman, muttering a few words to her before opening the entrance to the tent. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Come on, Gwen.’ William sidled up to her, pulling her by the hand. ‘I have another secret. See Isabel’s baby over there?’ He pulled a disgusted face. ‘My papa has told me that one day, when I am grown, I might become betrothed to her. Can you imagine anything so dreadful as being married?’

  She smiled, surprised that a small lump had formed in her throat. ‘I can only imagine, although she won’t always be so little, you know.’

  ‘Well, I won’t do it.’ He shook his head, his curls bouncing around his head. ‘I’m going to be a famous knight instead. The best and the fiercest.’

  ‘I am sure you shall, William Tallany. I am sure you shall.’

  Gwen wondered, too late, whether it had been prudent for her to have sought Ralph, even though she was dressed inconspicuously. She felt self-conscious standing among his friends, who were naturally curious about her, especially Lady Isabel.

  She chewed her lips, knowing that Ralph had also realised her presence despite being immersed in the middle of combat training. He’d looked in their direction a few times and the manner of his stance revealed that he was unsettled that Gwen was there and had made herself known to his friends.

  Even so, regardless of her curiosity, she needed to speak with him and establish their bargain now that he had pledged to escort her to the convent in Ireland, once the tournament was over. It had certainly nothing to do with the pull of awareness she felt prickle through her.

  Chapter Eight

  Gwen watched as Ralph stormed off in disappointment at his performance which had seemed a little flat and disengaged. And she hoped it had not been because she had been watching alongside his friends. She waited a while before taking her leave from the ladies and young William, whom she had promised to visit another day.

  Gwen pulled her hood over her head and walked over to the tent she now knew Ralph shared with Sir Thomas and waited outside for a moment to gather her nerves and calm her beating heart. Taking a deep breath before pulling the fabric opening to one side, she walked in.

  She stopped abruptly and blinked several times at the sight before her. Her mouth went suddenly dry as she gazed at Ralph’s sinuous back, broad shoulders, and large muscular arms still holding his weapon. Apart from the braies and hose covering his honed legs, he was very naked from the waist upwards.

  ‘God above, I know it. I know exactly what you’re going to say,’ he said, shaking his head, evidently having heard her enter. ‘But let’s not get into it now, Tom.’

  Mayhap she should come back another time. Gwen’s legs finally caught up with her head and she moved to leave, just when Ralph turned around.

  ‘Gwen?’ He stood to his full height, frowning at her. ‘I thought you were Tom. What are you doing here?’

  That was a very good question. At that moment, Gwen had neither an answer nor a voice to explain herself, so she sank her teeth into her bottom lip and swallowed in discomfort.

  ‘Well?’ He raised his brow, waiting as she looked him up and down. Ralph’s back might have been impressive, but the rippled corded muscles of his chest, with the smattering of dark hair that ran down to his belly button, disappearing under his hose, made Gwen blush, furiously. She averted her gaze, but not before she had noticed his sun-kissed skin wet with moisture and glistening from being washed down or sweating or...

  Oh, God, how mortifying.

  She realised far too late that this was the first time she had properly seen Ralph since they were young. Of course, Gwen had been aware of the changes in him, from the moment she knew that he was alive, but she had only glanced at Ralph from afar or from snatched moments when he had lurked in shadows. Until this moment even his scarred face, arm and hand had been hidden beneath hoods and the many layers of clothing.

  Well, not any more.

  And nothing...nothing could have prepared her for this raw masculinity. Apart from the scars it had been his lean sharp features, the strong angular jawline with the days’ worth of stubble and tousled dark brown hair. She looked up and met his dark eyes. He was still waiting for her to respond as he put his hands on his hips. Yet she did not know what to say.

  So Ralph spoke instead. ‘I suppose you can now see what I have also been trying to hide.’

  Gwen tried not to dwell on the lasting image of his magnificently honed body which had greeted her only moments ago. Yet it was difficult to think about anything else.

  ‘As well as concealing that you were still alive,’ she managed to say.

  ‘Yes...’ he nodded ‘...that, too.’

  Gwen could feel her face becoming hotter still and knew she should look away, but her eyes were drawn back to him every time she tried to glance elsewhere. Oh, for goodness sake, this was Ralph. And just because he wasn’t fully dressed, she should hardly be reacting in this way.

  ‘I had better put on a tunic,’ he drawled eventually, with a ghost of a smile. ‘I would not want my dishabille to distress you.’

  ‘Indeed, I’m not accustomed to being in such a confined space with a half-dressed man.’

  Why in heavens had she spoken so breathlessly? Honestly, could she behave more ridiculously than this?

  ‘I am sorry to disturb your sensibilities, my lady, but this is my tent—mine and Tom’s.’ He pulled on a grey woollen tunic. ‘And you did come here of your own volition.’

  ‘You’re quite right, I did. I’m sorry, I had better leave.’

  ‘Wait, Gwen, I was just teasing you.’ He caught her arm and then let it go just as quickly, as though his fingers were burned by the touch. He took a step back as they stared at one another.

  Oh, God, what was wrong with her?

  Gwen blinked, realising that actually there was no measure to how ridiculous she could be. She turned to leave again.

  ‘No, stay and have a mug of wine with me. I would be glad of the company.’

  She wasn’t sure whether that would be a good idea, but an unfathomable flare of emotion passed across Ralph’s eyes, making her reconsider. ‘Very well, if you wish.’

  He walked to the coffer and poured the red liquid into two mugs, pressing one into her hands.

  ‘So, tell me, Gwen. What brought you here?’

  ‘I’m not so... Well, the truth is that I need to...’

  His dark brown e
yes glinted with mild bemusement. ‘I hope that my scars do not bother you?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She gulped, hoping that she hadn’t spoken too quickly.

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.’ He shrugged. ‘They’re not exactly a pleasant sight.’

  ‘You are teasing me again, are you?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head, the amusement fading from his eyes ‘The scars are hideous and disgusted me the first time I caught a glimpse of them.’

  Gwen could hardly say that she hadn’t noticed them. They were there, glaring at her, and were not something she could have avoided. Yet it had been the changes in him and his body that had impressed upon her mind far more. Not something she could readily convey either.

  ‘How did it happen?’ she muttered instead.

  ‘Sadly, the story of how I was left with these is rather lamentable.’ He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. ‘Everything Tom told you about me, by the by, was true except for the part that I had died. I had been in Poitiers since I left England. One very ordinary day, two years ago, on a routine check in the area, my small patrol was set upon. The two men who accompanied me were butchered to death, Gwen, as would I have been had it not been for the local men of St Jean de Cole, who came to my rescue.’

  ‘Oh, God, Ralph.’

  ‘I woke up days later, not knowing who I was or what had happened, tended to by Lady Isabel de Clancey, who had her own story of why she had been residing in that small village in Aquitaine.’

  ‘I met her earlier. She is lovely and extremely fond of you.’

  ‘As I am of her.’ He nodded. ‘She is like a sister to me. I know for certain that without Isabel, I would not be alive and without her husband, Will Geraint, I would not be here. I owe them everything.’

  Gwen was happy that Ralph had friends like Lord and Lady de Clancey and Thomas Lovent to look out for him and had not been alone as she had until she met Brida O’Conaill. ‘It was fortuitous that you met them.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘And do they still pain you, Ralph? The scars.’

  He turned his head. ‘I know they’re repulsive to look at, but they remind me of what I nearly lost that day and still stand to lose. Every single one of these ugly, mangled scars is a reminder of the past and what I still owe my family name.’

  Which wasn’t quite answering her question, but telling, nevertheless. ‘Do you blame yourself for what happened?’

  ‘Naturally,’ he said, bitterly. ‘But these scars are also a good reminder of what I still have to do. What I must do to redeem the past and try to somehow gain everything that has been lost.’

  ‘And that is why you are here.’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘That is why I’m here.’

  ‘And the reason for your anonymity?’

  ‘As you know I have not divulged the truth about myself yet. I may be under the protection of Lord de Clancey’s household knights, but this is something that I need to use to my advantage. Why allow my cousin to have this knowledge, when he would manipulate it to his own end? I’d rather he tarried in a false sense of security, believing that there was no other who would challenge him for Kinnerton.’

  ‘Although it sounds dangerous, it does make sense.’

  ‘Indeed, and I can look out for myself, Gwen. But it needs to be carefully contained, until the time is right.’

  She nodded. ‘You can be assured that Brida and I will keep your secret.’

  ‘I know and I thank you.’

  ‘Oh, and by the by, they’re not repulsive.’ Gwen motioned towards his face. ‘Your scars.’

  His eyes locked on to hers, making her pulse quicken and the breath hitch in her throat. There was still so much left unsaid, so much Gwen did not understand about the events from the past, so much she could—she should—say, but all she could think about was how mesmerising those dark eyes were. But it really would not do. She gave her head a little shake and broke the silence.

  ‘You say you woke up in Aquitaine without any knowledge of who you were?’

  ‘No. My memory of both the attack and how I ended up in St Jean de Cole was very hazy. I could only recall...a few things at first and then very gradually every last thing that happened came back. Although I sometimes wish my ignorance about it all was permanent.’

  ‘That would have been terrible, would it not?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ He shrugged and watched her for a moment. ‘And what of you, Gwen? What happened to you all these years?’

  ‘Nothing other than getting older.’ Hardly the truth, but Gwen did not wish to dredge up everything that had happened to her.

  ‘Some say that age and experience brings wisdom. Although you are still a young maiden.’

  She took a sip of the wine and smirked. ‘I may be that, but I’m not so certain about being much wiser.’

  ‘That could also be said of me, but I hope to learn from my past mistakes.’ He shrugged. ‘Take today’s disastrous practice. I’m certainly going to have to sharpen my skills if I want to have any chance at this tournament.’

  ‘I am certain you shall.’

  ‘We shall see. The very best warriors in the kingdom are present here, so it will not be an easy task. However, we were talking about you and not me.’

  ‘If you mean to ask where I went after you left, then I would tell you that my aim was to get as far away from Kinnerton as I could.’ As well as Stephen le Gros and all the bad memories, but Ralph didn’t need to know that. ‘I became the Crown’s ward and eventually came to live in the Earl of Pembroke, William Marshal’s household, where I acted as one of Isabel, the Countess of Pembroke’s ladies-in-waiting. I also met Brida there.’

  ‘And you were safe there?’

  ‘Yes, indeed I was. They were happier times, but after the Earl’s death, my situation changed once more.’

  He tilted his head, watching her. ‘And yet you never married?’

  ‘No, and I hope I never shall.’

  ‘I see.’ He raised his brows. ‘And that was the reason that you intended to run away?’

  She made a single nod.

  They descended into an uncomfortable silence. Gwen felt suddenly weary and a little exposed, as if she had been the one who was standing there, undressed as he had been just moments ago. Yet her own curiosity had been roused. There were six years that had passed. Six years of lost time reduced now to this awkward, frustrated feeling of not knowing what to say next.

  But this was Ralph de Kinnerton. Surely there was enough of the boy she once knew there somewhere, underneath those scars and sinewy taut muscles of a powerful warrior? Yet that also meant that the girl she once was, the girl who had pushed Ralph away, remained, too.

  ‘I should go.’

  * * *

  Ralph watched her for a moment as she stood uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other. He didn’t mean to make her feel guarded and so uneasy, yet he had.

  ‘I did not mean to pry.’

  He had wanted to understand Gwen a little more and the reasons why she had changed her stance on marriage as much she had. From everything he had known about Gwenllian, the promise of becoming a mother, having a family...and being a wife had always been of great importance to her and yet that no longer held true. Mayhap in the intervening years, her desire to take the veil could explain the reasons why she no longer welcomed what she considered the burden of marriage. In which case her need to get away made a little more sense, even though it made him feel bleak for some reason.

  It seemed they were no longer the assured, sanguine young people they had both been. The hard lessons of life had changed them irrevocably. Yet he still wondered what lessons Gwen had learnt.

  She cleared her throat. ‘I would not wish to take up your time when I’m sure you have much to do.’

  ‘You’re not, my lady, and trust me,
I don’t. Well, not at this particular moment.’ He took her mug from her. ‘Nothing that cannot wait at any rate, especially after what happened in the practice field.’

  ‘Surely you cannot be worried about the mêlée?’

  He shrugged. ‘And surely you saw my abysmal performance out there?’

  ‘I am sure that is not an everyday occurrence, Ralph.’

  He dragged his fingers through his hair in agitation. ‘If only you knew.’

  ‘Mêlées are notoriously unpredictable, are they not?’

  ‘I’m afraid it has more to do with skill than that. There’s a certain amount of luck that goes hand in hand with it, both of which have been lacking of late for me. Yet I have had a lot on my mind.’ He briefly looked in her direction.

  But Gwen was resolutely avoiding his gaze. ‘I’m sure it has. What with returning back here and being so close to Kinnerton after so many years away.’

  ‘Alas, it is not good enough of a reason. Not if I mean to succeed.’

  ‘You are being a little too stern with yourself, are you not?’

  ‘No, the time is nigh, Gwen. It is now or never.’

  ‘Surely that cannot be?’

  ‘With my cousin here as well, after the same thing? He gave her a grim look and sighed. ‘I believe it must be. And this is not my first tournament, Gwen. I have been hiding for a lot longer than you know.’

  Ralph poured some more wine into her mug and handed it back, his fingers grazing hers. He resisted the impulse to touch her again and stepped back, turning away. ‘I was believed to be dead after the attack, two years ago, with my life still, very much, in the balance. Even then I believed it prudent to allow the fact that I was alive to remain concealed. Especially since danger was everywhere and I did not know who was friend or foe. But eventually, I managed to get a message through to Tom that I was convalescing in St Jean de Cole. He came into my confidence and agreed to help me. Soon we travelled around France, from tourney to tourney, taking it in turns to be Sir Thomas Lovent and his far-too-large oaf of a squire. Some tournaments we would win coin and many more we’d lose.’