by Regan Walker
“Nay,” Noelle admitted.
“Really?” Guinevere said in an odd tone as she stopped in front of a door, then opened it. “Here are your chambers, and your ladies will sleep beyond in the smaller solar.” Guinevere pointed as the servant took Isabelle and Carolyn to their solar. “I will have someone bring your trunks,” Guinevere said.
“Thank you,” Noelle said, then thought about her earlier comment. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt, but this marriage . . .” she sighed, “was not my idea.”
Guinevere took Noelle’s hand and squeezed it. “I know, but you might be surprised and fancy Sir Gavin. Were you not the one who was always looking for that special knight? Sir Gavin is a fine knight.”
“I might like him, but the point is I love him not. I would marry for love.”
“Love. What we all hope for.” Guinevere sighed wistfully. “But love is not perfect, my dear,” she said as she walked over to the window. “Sometimes love can be confusing and can hurt.” She glanced back at Noelle. “What if you loved someone who cared naught for you in return or what if you loved someone you could not have?”
“That would be painful indeed,” Noelle said, “but if I truly loved him, I would find some way to become his.”
Guinevere stared at her for a moment. “I believe that you would. I sense a fighter in you. Let us hope that Sir Gavin is all that you long for.” Her voice had an infinitely compassionate tone. “I shall go now and let you rest—then you can prepare for the feast. On the morrow, we can ride out and gather greenery. This is one Christmas that I look forward to.” She paused at the door and smiled. “Please invite your lovely ladies to join us. My ladies will attend also.”
Guinevere had no sooner gotten out the door than Carolyn and Isabelle rushed into the chamber.
“What did she say?” Isabelle asked.
“What do you think of the queen?” Carolyn added before Noelle could respond.
Noelle regarded her companions with amusement. “You know perfectly well what the queen said because you were both listening.”
“But did she say anything about Sir Lancelot?”
“Or Sir Osborn?”
These two were hopeless romantics.
“I am certain that King Arthur’s knights will be required to have guards around them for protection from you two,” Noelle said.
“From us, milady?” Isabelle said as she pointed to herself innocently.
“Do you blame us, milady? We are at court with the boldest and bravest knights in all of England,” Carolyn said. “Not to mention something to behold.”
Isabelle nudged Carolyn with her elbow. “Aye, and probably just ripe for the picking.” The teasing laughter returned to her eyes.
“Isabelle,” Noelle said. “Remember, you are a lady.”
“A lady I might be . . .” Isabelle paused and then gave her companions a conspiratorial wink, “but I have lots of healthy blood in me.”
In a small room off Noelle’s chamber, a large wooden tub had been set up in front of the hearth.
The bathman had filled the tub and sprinkled the water with dried rose petals, as chambermaids waited to assist Noelle. She dismissed them, wanting to be alone as she soaked.
She needed some time to herself. So much had happened and she wanted time to think.
Soon she was engulfed in warm water, resting her head on the back of the tub. She had to figure out how to escape this marriage without hurting her people. There had to be a way. She simply had not thought of it yet.
Shutting her eyes, she let her arms float in the warm water and then she remembered the kiss.
His kiss.
The one forbidden kiss that had made her long for more. She sighed. That would be her secret.
“You must be having a pleasant dream by the way you are smiling,” Carolyn teased as she swept into the small room to attend to Noelle.
“Aye. ’Tis one I would like to relive again.”
“Tell, tell,” Isabelle chirped in right behind Carolyn.
Noelle hoped her smile was noncommittal as she looked at them. “Someday I will tell you both, but for now it’s my secret. You two go get dressed. Or we will never make it downstairs.”
After they left, Noelle knew she hadn’t heard the last from Isabelle. Isabelle couldn’t bear secrets that she knew nothing about. Therefore, it gave Noelle pleasure in teasing her.
Noelle slipped on the emerald-green cotehardie that Carolyn had placed on the bed. The sleeves were full and tied at intervals so the tighter-fitting sleeves of her kirtle beneath would show and provide a good contrast. The green velvet added some warmth.
Noelle realized that she was cold. She swung around to look at the fire. It had burned down to embers and needed stirring.
Moving over to the hearth, she picked up a few small logs that had been left in a large basket and tossed two onto the grate. Sparks leapt up the chimney, and she stepped quickly back to avoid getting her gown singed.
“Mustn’t go ruining your dress when there are servants to do such work,” Carolyn said as she and Isabelle returned.
“It’s better than freezing while I wait. And you both should know that I am no helpless simpleton.” Noelle paused and looked at them. One had dressed in light blue and the other in a darker blue velvet.
They were so excited that they were radiant. “You two are beautiful tonight. King Arthur’s knights do not stand a chance.”
“I’ll wager that someone is nervous.” Carolyn laughed. “You have not done your hair.”
“I dread this meeting,” Noelle admitted. She felt the screams of frustration at the back of her throat. She had to escape this marriage somehow.
“Sit.” Isabelle pointed to the chair. “We’ll not have you shame us. Let me fix your hair.”
Noelle obeyed, wondering how she could have gotten two bold and brazen, not to mention bossy, ladies-in-waiting. Most were meek and mild.
Isabelle brushed Noelle’s hair until it glistened like gold threads. Then she pulled the golden mass up on the sides and wound gold chains through her honeyed curls. “I think we have it,” Isabelle proclaimed. “Let us be off ... our knights await.”
They could see the glow of light long before they arrived at the Great Hall. They paused in the doorway to take in the sight before them. It appeared that a hundred rush lights were suspended from the sconces on the walls, providing good light for the room. The air smelled of juniper from the roaring fire.
The Great Hall was full of knights and ladies and their retinues. Two long trestle tables had been set up for the feast, but so far no one had taken their seats. Noelle glanced at the dais where Arthur and Guinevere stood talking to Tristan and two other gentlemen she didn’t know.
There was a saltcellar in front of where the king would sit; all the tables had already been set with pewter bowls, awaiting the guests to take their places.
“Have we died? Is this heaven?” Isabelle whispered playfully to Carolyn.
“Aye,” Carolyn nodded. “They are better than I imagined. Have you ever seen such brawny men?”
“It’s too hard to pick. Maybe we could have several.”
Noelle joined in their fun. “You’re welcome to mine.”
“He is sure to be a fine one,” Carolyn admitted. “But look at the one who just entered the hall. Every lady has turned her head yet he has acknowledged no one.”
Isabelle took a deep breath. “I think I will go over. Someone must introduce us.”
Noelle’s eyes widened. For there in the doorway dressed in crimson and black, was a warrior who certainly stood out in the crowd. Every ounce of him exuded strength and power. The lights made his dark brown hair glisten as his amber eyes searched the crowd like a predator’s.
Never in her wildest dreams did she think she would ever see him again. So he wasn’t a peasant. He was anything but.
He was bold and commanding as he surveyed the room. Would he remember her? Would he embarrass her in front of the king?
/> She swung around.
Isabelle and Carolyn gaped at Noelle’s sudden movement. They both asked, “Do you know him?”
“Who?”
“The knight you were just gawking at,” Isabelle said.
“No—no, I don’t know him.” Noelle gathered up her skirt. “Now if you will excuse me, I am going to meet my future husband,” Noelle said, not glancing back at either as she left. They would ask too many questions if she stayed. However, she did hear their parting remarks.
“Since when does she want to meet her future husband?” Isabelle asked.
“Since she doesn’t want us to ask any more questions.”
“We will find out more later,” Isabelle said, and then she nudged Carolyn. “It’s time to find an introduction to some of these knights. I wonder which is Lancelot.”
“Let’s go find out.”
Chapter 3
As Noelle made her way to Guinevere and Tristan, she could hear murmuring all around her. Many different conversations were taking place, but she felt as though every eye was on her. She knew it was her imagination. Then she thought, Was he looking at her?
“Here she is now,” Guinevere said. The queen was wearing a red overtunic, belted at the waist. The full, open, half-length sleeves ended in long, flowing tippets of white fur. She held out her hand to Noelle as she curtsied. “Sir Gavin, may I present the Lady Noelle.”
Sir Gavin bowed low. “Milady, I’ve looked forward to this moment,” he said as he held her hand up so he could kiss the back.
“Sir Gavin,” Noelle said. Drat! He was nice, she thought, and looked to her brother for help.
Suddenly, she could think of nothing to say, so Tristan came to her rescue. “I heard your last campaign was successful,” he said and the two men struck up a conversation.
Noelle had to admit that Sir Gavin was comely, but his appearance wasn’t everything. He had dark brown hair and warm brown eyes, and she wanted desperately not to like something about him. He might be a kind and gentle man, but he was not the man of her choosing. There was no feeling there. It was like meeting her brothers.
Suddenly, Noelle stiffened.
She felt him long before he spoke.
“Sir Nicholas,” Guinevere said, looking past Noelle. “We have missed your presence in Camelot.”
“As I have missed being here, my queen.” His deep, rumbling voice sent chills down Noelle’s spine. It was a commanding voice ... one that soldiers used to make their men snap to attention. “What is this good news I hear, Sir Gavin?”
“I plan to be married,” Sir Gavin said with a smile. “Milady, our most fierce knight, Sir Nicholas the Dragon. He is well named, for he breathes fire upon his opponents.”
Slowly, Noelle turned around, avoiding Nicholas’s eyes as she focused on his massive chest.
Would he embarrass her?
She waited for him to say something. Anything.
Everyone was waiting.
He said nothing.
Finally, she had to look up at him. The memory of the burning kiss came flooding back. She would never forget a single detail of his face and that kiss. The silence lingered between them. She must say something. “Milord, it is nice to make your acquaintance.”
Nicholas couldn’t believe his eyes. He experienced a gamut of perplexing emotions. When he’d first glimpsed the beautiful woman across the hall, he’d assumed his eyes had deceived him. But standing before him, with hair that looked like polished gold and wearing a gown of the finest green velvet, was the woman of the lake. The one he’d thought was a peasant. What gave her away were her emerald eyes. The same ones that had spit fire at him. Oh, but how he’d love to taste that fire.
Sir Nicholas tilted his head to the side. “Have we met before, milady?”
Her brow rose a fraction, and then he saw a determination settle upon her face she wouldn’t allow him to embarrass her, no matter what he did. It was almost as if she were daring him. He smiled. So she had fight in her—he liked that.
She stiffened, momentarily abashed. “Not unless you have been a guest at Cranborne Castle, sir.”
“Ah, Cranborne. I have traveled near there just recently, but, alas, I have never been a guest.”
Tristan cleared his throat. “The next time you travel across our land, please come and visit with us, milord. I have heard many good things about your daring deeds.”
Gavin laughed. “Watch that you don’t give Nicholas a bigger head than he already has.”
Nicholas cut his gaze to Gavin. “Congratulations on your marriage,” he said, then added before Gavin could answer, “Have you known your lady long?”
“We have just met for the first time,” Gavin told him.
So the lady hadn’t known Gavin when she’d kissed him, Nicholas thought. She’d been as free as he was ... not that it mattered. That was in the past.
“Do you not greet your king?” King Arthur said, speaking for the first time.
Nicholas straightened immediately. However, Noelle noticed he neither blushed nor looked contrite for slighting the king. “Sire, I must confess that the lady’s beauty made me forget my manners.” Nicholas made a sweeping bow. “I have completed your mission and tamed the heathens as you requested.”
“So I have heard.” Arthur smiled. “I believe you and I have another matter to discuss, if everyone will excuse us.” He motioned for Nicholas to follow him.
“Let’s begin to take our places at the table,” Guinevere said. “I’m sure you both would like to become better acquainted,” she told Gavin and Noelle.
Noelle nodded. She let Sir Gavin take her elbow and guide her to the middle of the long, oak table where they took their seats. He sat on her left. Isabelle was across the table. A large man sat on one side of Isabelle, and Sir Lancelot was on the other side, so Noelle knew that her friend was very well entertained. Isabelle had finally gotten her wish—to meet the man of her dreams.
The chair to Noelle’s right was still vacant, but she had no opportunity to ponder who would sit there because Sir Gavin began talking to her.
He was pleasant enough, Noelle thought, but she felt nothing. She tried to carry on a conversation with Sir Gavin, but her gaze kept wandering to the king and Nicholas, who were still talking, their heads bent. She wondered what kind of man Nicholas really was.
When Arthur had Sir Nicholas off to the side, he said, “I believe you and I had a small wager.”
Nicholas gave a slight smile. “Aye, sire. And I will be collecting my horses within the week.”
Arthur stroked his gray beard. “I know I have not heard of any unhappy ladies. Are you sure you have been without a fair maiden all this time?”
Nicholas groaned and looked heavenward. “Trust me, sire. I have been true to my word. As I told you before, I never lose a wager.”
He was so arrogant, Arthur thought. And playing right into his hands. “It is far too easy a task that I gave you. I should have made it harder.” Arthur eyed his opponent, folded his arms across his chest, and said, “A good man can usually go the distance of any challenge, but when pushed beyond his endurance, he usually crumbles.”
“You, my king, are throwing out a gauntlet and issuing another challenge.” Nicholas’s voice, while courteous, was patronizing. “Is it not bad enough you’ve lost your two best white war-horses?”
“I admit that I will miss my whites, but they are a pair, leaving me with another pair. How would you like to see if you could win Briercliff?”
“Your castle?”
Arthur nodded. “I have been trying to think of the proper reward for all your brave deeds. I have a feeling that this bet might be your biggest hurdle yet.”
Briercliff was a small castle on the cliffs of Cornwall. It overlooked the sea and would be a perfect home, Nicholas thought. It wasn’t as grand as Camelot nor as well protected, but Briercliff had stood vacant for more than a year.
Nicholas tapped the side of his leg as he looked curiously at the king, wonde
ring what Arthur was really up to. “You will regret this day, for you will have lost both your horses and a castle.”
“Then you accept?”
“I am made of iron, sire,” Nicholas said with a nod. “State your terms.”
Arthur leaned over and whispered, “Can you forgo your manly urges until Christmas Day?”
Nicholas looked at Arthur and smiled. “Even though I had looked forward to finding a wench after the feast tonight, I will wait until Christmas Day. For you see, sire, I can live with or without a woman.”
Arthur laughed. “One of these days, cousin, you are going to meet a lady who takes your breath away. She’ll seep into your blood and then you’ll find that she means as much to you as the air you breathe. You’ll not be able to eat, sleep, or work without thinking of her.”
Nicholas chuckled and raised his eyebrow. “And you, my king, sound like many of those besotted fools who think they cannot live without a wench. Wenches are like horses. If one lets you down, you can mount another.”
Arthur clapped Nicholas on the back. “Let us go take our places at the table so we can begin the feast.” Arthur started toward the table. “But I am telling you now that one day those words that so easily spew from your mouth will change. I, for one, cannot wait until that day to remind you that you are as mortal as the rest of us.”
Nicholas gave a half-smile. “We will speak of that matter on Christmas Day, sire.”
“On Christmas Day it is.” King Arthur nodded as he took his chair at the head table and motioned for Nicholas to take the empty chair.
Nicholas was feeling quite pleased with his wager until he saw where Arthur had placed him. At least the beautiful Noelle was taken, Nicholas thought as he sat down beside her. However, he could have a little fun teasing the lovely lady and watching the sparks ignite. Then the whiff of roses seemed to surround him, and he groaned ever so softly as his body responded to the scent of the woman beside him.
God’s wounds, he needed to be made of stone. And there was a certain part of his body that felt like stone right this very minute and desperately needed easing. He had boasted to the king that he was made of iron. He just hoped he hadn’t lied.