Lasses, Lords, and Lovers: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Regine crossed her arms defiantly, turning up her nose at him and glancing to her sister. She knew how to ease Richmond’s unbending stance. It had never been a secret.

  “Riss,” she said softly, moving toward her sister. A slip of a feigned sob escaped her lips. “He’s being ever so cruel. Tell him that I only wish to observe, that I won’t stand too close. Please?”

  Arissa’s gaze went from her baby sister to Richmond. He closed his eyes against her beseeching gaze and turned away.

  “Richmond…,” she ventured quietly.

  God’s Teeth, he’d do anything for her when she used that tone. “Nay, my lady, your sister is far too young to view such brutality.”

  “Penelope and Emma are watching,” she said softly.

  He gritted his teeth against the caressing tone of her voice, unwilling to look at her because he knew the moment he beheld the pale green eyes, all would be lost. Regine knew it, too.

  “Still, I must refuse.”

  Arissa did not say anything for a moment. “I would like to watch.”

  Damnation! She knew exactly how to manipulate him. If Arissa went to observe the match, he would be forced to accompany her. And he couldn’t very well leave Regine alone, standing by herself.

  He turned to look at her. “Do you think that to be entirely wise? After all, you are pledged to God, my lady, and I doubt He would approve of an impressionable young virgin viewing men’s games of strength.”

  She smiled at him, a display of beauty so dazzling he was nearly blinded by the sight. He watched, awed, as she approached him, curling her delicate fingers about his massive forearm. Gazing down at her, he could scarcely breathe.

  “’Tis only a game, Richmond. It’s not as if I shall be jumping in to the arena to challenge the victor.”

  Unconsciously, his free mailed hand covered her soft warm appendages. He did not even realize he was gently caressing her. Certainly, he couldn’t deny her; he’d never been able to. He felt himself caving in to her demand like a spineless dog when, over Arissa’s shoulder, he caught sight of Regine’s smirking face. Like a slap, reality whacked him brutally in the face. Come to your senses, you fool!

  “I must still refuse, my lady,” he said, but his voice was strangely hoarse. “Your father would not approve.”

  Arissa was not overly upset. Sighing with resignation, she simply turned to her sister and shrugged. Richmond almost laughed at the look of disbelief on Regine’s face.

  Feeling as if he had somehow managed to win a small victory, he moved away from the wrestling. “Come, ladies,” he said firmly. “More delights await us.”

  Like a spoiled child, Regine danced about in disappointment before thinking better of her embarrassing display. Kicking at the ground one last time, she moved off in pursuit of her sister and the massive knight.

  Richmond continued to grasp Arissa’s hand as they made their way towards the servant’s exit to the rear of the keep. Both iron gates were wide open, allowing peasants and guests alike to pass to the open area beyond. A margin of clearing separated the fortifying wall from the forest beyond, a vast manicured field that was used for anything from sword practice to grazing horses. Today, however, it was being prepared for the glorious main event: the archery competition.

  “Look, Regine, the archery targets have already been raised,” Arissa shielded her eyes from the bright sun. She turned to Richmond. “Are you competing?”

  He shrugged, folding his arms over his broad chest. “I hadn’t thought on it, truthfully.”

  “But you are the best archer in England,” Arissa insisted. “Sweet St. Jude, you taught Bart and I to wield a bow and arrow when we were children. Why aren’t you going to compete?”

  “As I said, I have not thought on it. I have not used a long-bow in some time, and crossbows are forbidden in competition.”

  She cocked her head thoughtfully. “I am awarding the ribbon. I would certainly like to award it to you, where it belongs.”

  “And you can carry my favor for luck,” Regine said eagerly, her fury from a moment before inexplicably vanished.

  Arissa’s face fell when Regine offered her favor to the powerful knight and Richmond could read her disappointment. Touched, not to mention encouraged in an odd way, he took hold of Arissa’s hand and clutched it against his mighty chest.

  “Lady Regine, as honored as I would be to carry your favor, I must refuse in favor of the birthday girl,” when Arissa’s head came up in open astonishment, his eyes twinkled at her. “That is, if my lady would allow me to champion her on this most auspicious day.”

  Arissa couldn’t help but smile as he gazed warmly upon her. How could he have possibly known exactly what she was leading up to before Regine stole her thunder? To have Richmond champion her in front of her neighbors, allies and friends alike was better than she could hope for. Her father’s friend, for as many years as she had known him, had declined all invitations to champion young, unmarried ladies.

  In fact, she remembered clearly at a tournament in Glastonbury when Richmond refused to champion a local earl’s daughter. The earl had been so outraged that he had nearly demanded Richmond’s head until a very calm Duke of Hereford pacified the man. She had been eleven years old at the time; it was the one and only time she had ever seen the duke, the man now known as Henry IV. Even then, the duke had treated Richmond as if he were a god. She barely remembered the would-be king; her attention, as always, had been focused on Richmond.

  It was still focused on him, as he was on her. Not wanting to seem quite so flattered or eager, she cocked a saucy eyebrow.

  “I shall think on it, Sir Richmond. I was rather thinking on having Tad de Rydal champion me but, alas, I suppose I could make do with you.”

  His eyebrows rose. “You cheeky little devil. How dare you consider that arrogant whelp over me. Why, I withdraw my offer immediately.”

  She extracted her hand from his heated grasp, although the mood was light. “Very well. And I rescind my request that you compete in this tournament. Why, with your hands shaking with age as they do, there is no telling what you shall hit. Pray, can you even see the target from this distance?”

  He drew in a long contemplative breath, resting his massive fists on his hips. Puckering his lips, he turned toward the castle with narrowed eyes. “Quite easily. How clever of the marshals to disguise the mark to look like a battle turret.”

  Regine giggled. “That’s not the target, Richmond. It’s over there!” she pointed behind him, in the direction of the field.

  He whirled around, still squinting. “Ah, yes. I see most clearly now. How clever of them to create moving targets. Much more satisfying to a man of my skills.”

  Arissa joined Regine in her giggles. “Those are not moving targets, Richmond, they are men-at-arms bearing Lambourn tunics. Are your eyes really so bad?”

  He slanted her a gaze, his eyes glimmering with mirth. “’Tis your own fault, really. You have blinded me with your radiant beauty.”

  She lowered her lashes coyly, an utterly charming gesture. “In that case, I must take pity on you and allow you to champion me.”

  Regine, tired of the games between Arissa and Richmond, bound off toward the activity on the field. But Richmond barely noticed her departure for the look in Arissa’s eyes; suddenly, a great mailed glove came up to stroke her cheek tenderly. The emotions, the warmth in his gaze, threatened to swallow her whole. Her entire world at the moment revolved around Richmond and his feather-light touch.

  “Well spoken, kitten,” he whispered. Then he sighed, his gaze raking over her. “I can scarcely believe you are eighteen years of age today. It simply does not seem possible.”

  They were not words spoken from a reluctant father-figure. They were words spoken from the heart. Arissa knew that as doubtlessly as she knew of her love for him. Before she could stop herself, she pressed her face against his massive hand.

  “I am a woman grown, my lord.”

  He stared at her, the twin
kle in his eyes fading. The finger that caressed her cheek lingered on her chin, trailing down her neck. He knew full well he should not be touching her in such a manner. God’s Teeth, he knew better than anyone that he had no right at all to touch her. He would have killed any man who had handled her in such a fashion, seemingly innocent though it might be. A gentle touch, a chivalrous gesture….

  But it was not innocent at all. There was fire raging through his veins, encroaching onto Arissa’s tender flesh. The more he stroked, the more she leaned against him as if her strength was failing. He had been staring into her eyes not a moment before; suddenly, he was watching his badly misbehaving hand as it threatened her.

  The pale green eyes suddenly closed and her head lolled back as if she had lost all control, revealing the most glorious neck he had ever had the fortune to gaze upon. Richmond lost the struggle against his labored breathing; harsh gasps came to his dry lips and his gloved hand opened, closing upon her neck as an animal devours its prey. He heard her gasp, a faint sound so erotic he nearly whimpered in response. His grip tightened.

  Then she was moving toward him. His gloved hand appeared to have a mind of its own, pulling her against his hard chest. Richmond realized that he was about to permit a depraved madman to ravage Arissa, but he was powerless to prevent it. The pale green eyes opened, focused on him, and he saw a faint curve appear on the luscious red lips. A flicker of a smile. Dear God… she was encouraging him!

  Her smile broadened. He couldn’t manage the gesture. All of his attention, his energy, was focused on the woman before him as if she were all that existed in his tumultuous world. His entire body was quivering like the string of a bow; taut, coiled, wracked with anticipation of what was about to occur. God’s teeth, what was he thinking?

  “Do ye think to strangle her in front of witnesses, my lord?” Mossy was suddenly beside them, his aged eyes twinkling. “Do not tell me that she asked ye to champion her and ye took offense.”

  His hand dropped like a stone. Well-defined finger marks lined Arissa’s white neck. He swallowed hard, his eyes boring into her wide green ones as an unmistakable flush mottled her cheeks.

  “I…. I have already agreed to champion my lady as a gift for her birthday,” he managed to choke.

  Mossy’s gaze moved between the two of them. Richmond maintained a steady gaze, but Arissa was staring at the ground. When she wandered away, wringing her hands and watching the grass beneath her slippered feet, Mossy cocked an eyebrow at Richmond.

  “Then if ye are going to kiss her, my lord, do it in the trees where no one can see ye. ’Twere William to see ye, word might get back to her father.”

  Richmond’s eyes suddenly blazed. Mossy’s gaze held even and he nodded faintly. “Aye, I know who she is. I have always known,” he tapped his head in a thoughtful gesture. “Ye forget, Richmond, that I delivered Maude’s dead child, the dead babe young Henry knew of. And I was the one who took Arissa from ye when ye delivered her to Lambourn that snowy December night. Although ye never made mention of her heritage, I was not so deaf that I did not hear the truth spoken between William and Maude on more than one occasion. But the populace of Lambourn never knew the difference; ’twas easy to convince them that Arissa was the child Maude birthed, switching the babes as we did.”

  Richmond had always suspected Mossy had been privy to the most secretive of information, but the old man had never mentioned a word. In faith, he didn’t particularly care but he sought to make the situation clear.

  “She doesn’t know.”

  “Nay, she doesn’t,” Mossy agreed. “And she will never hear it from my lips. ’Tis none of my affair to involve myself in the matter.”

  His rigid stance relaxed somewhat and his gaze returned to Arissa, standing patiently several feet away as she watched the activity on the field. He suddenly felt an ancient hand come to rest on his gauntlet.

  “She does not want to join the cloister, ye know,” Mossy said quietly. “If ye were to convince her father…. he’d let ye have her, I suspect.”

  Outwardly, Richmond’s only reaction was to return his gaze to the old man. But inwardly, he was wracked with the possibilities of the statement.

  “Out of the question, Mossy. Arissa’s destiny is in the hands of God. Come the New Year, she will retire to Whitby and I shall return to London.”

  “Never to see her again? Do ye know what that will do to her, man?”

  His brow furrowed faintly. “She’s no choice in the matter. Her future was decided long ago.”

  Mossy’s gaze rested on him a moment. “But that was before she loved you.” He turned and walked away.

  Richmond’s mouth went dry. His facade was still straight and proud as he watched the aged crony hobble toward the keep, but his heart was being twisted and enlightened more violently than he ever thought possible.

  “Richmond?”

  He whirled toward Arissa, his control slipping at the sound of her angelic voice. His gaze came to rest on her beautiful face and she smiled timidly, gesturing in the direction of the keep.

  “I am hungry. Do you think we could find something to eat before the competition begins?”

  His mouth worked for a moment as if he were struggling to find the correct reply. Loudly, he cleared his throat, moving towards her purely out of habit. But as he drew closer, Mossy’s words slammed into him again with such force that he grunted.

  But that was before she loved you.

  He coughed politely, covering his blunder. Yet the look in Arissa’s eyes when he offered her his arm suddenly took on new light in the face of the old man’s muttered statement. The seductive smile she had displayed as he gripped her, the open encouragement in her gaze suddenly made sense until he was nearly wild with the overwhelming likelihood. Could it be….?

  Richmond led her back to the keep in stunned silence, where Penelope, Emma and Daniel found them. Daniel boasted of his winnings in the wrestling matches as Penelope and Emma surrounded Arissa, commencing the usual mindless chatter. Arissa listened, but she did not comprehend their words. Her mind was else occupied.

  She had no idea what to think. Confusion reigned supreme as she pretended to respond to the conversation going on about her. Richmond, several paces ahead, was all but ignoring her as he and Daniel conversed. Truthfully, her mind hadn’t been working correctly since the moment he had touched her cheek; it was as if the world had faded until all that mattered was his tender touch against her skin. The sensation had been so overwhelming that she had completely given in to the heat flooding her limbs, causing her eyes to close and her knees to weaken.

  She hadn’t even been aware of her lolling head until he had grabbed her by the neck. A powerful bolt of excitement had slammed into her body, a sob escaping her lips from the sheer force of the blow. Next she realized, he had pulled her against him.

  And then her eyes had opened. His eyes, blazing hotter than the sun, had made her smile. Gazing into the blue flame, she knew. He wanted to kiss her as badly as she wanted him to.

  Damn Mossy for interrupting them. Had they been allowed to progress, she might have been able to taste his lips as she had always wanted to. But now, he was all but ignoring her and her heart was breaking. Mayhap…. mayhap he had come to realize the foolishness of her brazen actions. ’Twas she who had melted against his innocent touch, and it was she who had unskillfully seduced him with her naive grin and eager manner. She had all but thrown herself at the man.

  Richmond procured the entire group a spit of roasting gamecocks. Arissa accepted the food from him, picked at it, and tossed it to the ground. Her stomach was churning with humiliation and she was no longer hungry. She could feel Richmond watching her, a familiar heat she was well acquainted with, but she simply could not bring herself to look at him.

  She wished she could get away from him, anything to ease the tension in the air. She knew, however, he would shadow her wherever she went. The only way he would not follow her was if she was escorted by another capable knig
ht, a man he trusted. Or….

  “My lady, a pleasure to come across you again,” Tad de Rydal was suddenly in front of her, his arrogant face flushed with joy. Arissa gazed up at him, suddenly seeing an escape to Richmond’s presence. Although she had no liking for the pompous knight, he would be a safe enough diversion from the situation at hand. With enthusiasm she did not feel, she smiled brightly.

  “And you, Sir Tad,” she said. “Have you been enjoying yourself?”

  “Indeed,” he replied. “But I would enjoy it a far sight more with a beautiful maiden on my arm.”

  Emma, realizing the fabled Tad de Rydal was in their midst, wedged herself next to Arissa, hoping her friend would introduce them and thereby open the door for Emma to escort Tad about the grounds. Arissa knew how badly Emma wanted to meet the de Rydal heir. But instead, Arissa did the unexpected.

  She extended her slender hand. “I would be honored to accompany you, Sir Tad. Would you be so gracious as to allow me?”

  Tad’s blue eyes gleamed, Emma’s face fell, and Richmond was, frankly, shocked. Before anyone could utter a word of protest, Arissa tucked her hand into the crook of Tad’s armored elbow and they strolled off across the compound companionably. In tears, Emma turned away.

  “I shall never forgive her,” she hissed. “She knows I was desperate to meet him!”

  Penelope patted her friend on the shoulder. “He’s her guest, Emma. We cannot monopolize all of her time. I am sure she will introduce you to him later.”

  Instead of being placated, Emma stamped her foot and sniffled loudly. “She’s preparing to join the damn church. What can she possibly want with a man? I wanted Tad de Rydal!”

  As Penelope attempted to comfort her, Richmond watched the distant couple like a hawk. Daniel, beside him, scratched his head.

  “De Rydal’s a rake,” he murmured. “You had better follow, ’else Lady Arissa’s charms are not the only delicacy he will attempt to sample.”

  Richmond did not reply. After a moment, he meandered in their direction.

  *

  After an hour with Tad, Arissa was ready to scream. Not only was he a conceited arse, but he was boorish and dull. All he seemed capable of commenting on was himself, his training, and the fortune he would inherit. Arissa sat and listened, yawning. She wished she had stayed with Richmond.