Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01

by A Knight of Silence

  “Reina is not to be involved. If I am to be called before Henry for treason, it will not be with her by my side.”

  They all nodded accord as Albin stepped forward to grip Fulke’s shoulder. “It will not come to that, Fulke.”

  “God willing, it will not, my friend.” He turned to Talan. “Albin will update you on what Stephen of Blois revealed at a hostelrie not far from here. It should make for an interesting Christmastide.” Passing his reins to Warin, he said, “Gervase, lead me to my wife.”

  Reina was dozing, curled up in the window-niche when he entered. Removing his cloak, he absently tossed it aside. With his heart racing, he slowly approached. He did not know how he could have ever denied his love for her. In the brief time he had known her, she had become his everything.

  Kneeling before her, he reached a hand to caress her face when her eyes fluttered open. “Am I dreaming you, my lord?”

  “Touch me and find out,” he whispered achingly.

  She sat up to fling her arms around him as he drew her into his embrace to hold her close. He felt her love wash over him as he closed his eyes and opened his heart.

  Easing her back, he drew in a shuttering breath as the last vestiges of armor encasing him shattered. “I no longer wish there to be barriers between us, Reina. I am ready to tell you all, if you are willing to hear it.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes as she reached for his hand. “I am more than willing, my love.”

  Unsure of where to start, he began at the beginning. He told her about his mother Catrain, his father Joseph, three older sisters Maerwyn, Isolde, Ysmay and younger brother, Benedict.

  How as a young lad he resented the women in his family smothering him. How he wanted nothing more than to be a warrior like his father and grandfather before him.

  He told her how pleased he was when his younger brother was born, so he would no longer have to deal with the women’s doting affections.

  Then he told her about the fire. The agony he suffered from losing them. The overwhelming shame he felt at ever having had a terrible thought about them. How for years he blamed himself for bringing destruction on his family by thinking sinful thoughts.

  About the years he fostered with Albin. How Sir Hewett attempted to teach him the joys of life, as well as prepare him for the horrors of battle. How he chose to ignore the finer things, throwing himself into training harder and longer. He told her how the bloodlust of battle consumed him. How he managed to climb through the ranks until at the Battle of Bremule he drew the attention of Henry himself.

  He told her titles and favor meant nothing to him as he sought out the next battle, praying it would either be the one to kill him, or ease the pain in his heart, if only just a little.

  Lowering his eyes in shame, he told her about the countless women he bedded. How he lost himself in any willing woman for a time, hoping it would fill the void deep within him.

  What he felt the first time he saw her and how unworthy he believed himself, admitting she had managed to find a way into his frozen heart. He confessed the guilt he felt when he neglected to latch the gate the day before he left for Rochester and what went through his mind when he saw her crumpled beneath the rail.

  After he had told her all of these things, he said solemnly, “I love you Reina. I have from the beginning.” He smoothed a tear from her cheek with his fingertip. “My heart is yours, my lady. Do with it what you will.”

  Cupping his beloved face between trembling hands, she replied, “I shall guard it with my life.” Taking his hand, she guided it to the slight swell of the baby growing within her. “Let the past go, for the sake of our future, Fulke.”

  In awe, he bent to lay his head gently against the slight swell of his child. Wrapping his arms around Reina’s waist, he drew in great hitching breaths. Images of his family flashed through his mind as he finally freed himself of the pain that had been his to bear for so long. Harsh broken sobs shook his frame as Reina wrapped her arms around his shoulders to hold him.

  He grieved for his family and lost youth, freeing himself of the guilt he felt at not appreciating them when he had the chance. He grieved for Sir Hewett who treated him like a son, refusing to give up on him. He grieved for the men who fell by his sword, freeing himself of the bitterness in his heart.

  Finally, after the pain and despair had been lifted from him, he sobbed with humble gratitude that God saw fit to send a silent angel to rescue him.

  His eyes glistened as he gazed up at Reina. “Albin was right.” At her questioning look, he said brokenly, “God did put you in my path.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair to pull him close. “And you in mine, my love.”

  Wrapping his arms around her, he gently lifted her against him as he stood. Without breaking their tender kiss, he carried her to the bed. Leaning back, he undressed her before following her down with a kiss.

  He gazed lovingly into her eyes, before kissing them closed. Trailing hot kisses across her cheeks, lips and throat, he moved down to suckle her full breasts, before trailing lower to the slight swell of her belly. Laying a cheek lightly against it, he caressed it reverently with his fingertips.

  Reina’s fingers slid through his hair as he trailed lower to the heated core of her. She writhed beneath him as he began to worship her with his mouth. Parting her slick folds with his fingers, he suckled her center as she held him against her. Slipping one, then two fingers inside her, he joined the rhythm of his tongue. He did not relent until her fingers gripped his hair. Throwing her head back, he felt her entire body shudder as she climaxed.

  Leaning back, he disrobed before returning to straddle her. Pulling him down to her, Reina cupped his face. “I love you, Fulke.”

  Kissing her, he whispered against her lips, “And I love you, Reina.” Nuzzling her neck, she parted herself for him as he shifted between her thighs to enter her warm heat.

  Reina was his heart, his love and his home. He slowly made love to her, never taking his gaze from her.

  The world stood still for them as they lost themselves. Climaxing together on a wave of pleasure so intense, it united them as one.

  * * * *

  Fulke gazed tenderly at his sleeping wife, feeling more content than he had ever felt before. One small woman with the heart of a warrior had freed him from a life of pain. Pulling the coverlet high over her exposed shoulder, he kissed her brow, slipping from the bed to dress.

  Walking through the darkened passages, he heard the sound of drunken laughter coming from a room off the Great Hall. Following the sound, he found his men in an anteroom enjoying a small feast.

  Stepping into the room, he smiled. “If ever I am in need of you bunch of louts, all I have to do is seek out drink.”

  Well into their cups on the king’s costly wines, the men shouted or slurred in his general direction.

  Unused to the potent French drink, Albin staggered to his feet. “Come and sup with us, Fulke.”

  Quirking an amused brow, Fulke began to fill a plate for Reina when the men staggered in one way or another to their feet, shouting a drunken chorus of, “My lady.”

  Fulke crossed to her. “Did I wake you when I left, my love?”

  She smiled up at him. “The bed grew cold, and I missed you.”

  Taking her hand, he kissed it. “Come eat something. I shall assure the drunken oafs behave themselves.”

  She squeezed his hand to stop him. “No Fulke, please leave them be. Truth be told, there has been very little joy of late.”

  With a tender smile, he guided her to the sideboard. Filling her plate high, she reached to stop him. “My appetite has not changed so much, my lord.”

  “Then we shall share the plate.” Bending down, he kissed her.

  Leading her to a table away from the rowdy drunkards, he watched his men with amusement.

  Warin was so overjoyed to see Reina that he lurched to his feet, spilling his wine all over the table. Staggering forward with his arms outstretched, he missed R
eina by several feet. Fearing he would fall on her, Fulke gripped his shoulders to turn him around.

  Stumbling back to the table, he used a chair to hold himself steady. “I have missed you, Reina,” he slurred, falling hard into his seat.

  Staring at him in surprise, Fulke smiled. It was the first time he heard Warin speak aloud while directly addressing Reina. “I fear our Warin has fallen in with a rowdy bunch, my lady.”

  She gazed fondly at her brother. “It would appear so, my lord.”

  He bent to give her a quick kiss. “It fills me with great joy to see you so happy.”

  They both looked up as Guy staggered to within five feet of her. Swaying, he attempted a bow that had him laying face first on the slate flooring.

  Stepping up to help, Gervase missed the first time he made a grab for him. Managing to grip an arm, he yanked Guy up. Leaning heavily on each other, they staggered their way back to the table.

  Belatedly realizing he did not greet his lady, Guy whirled around. “My lady, I have composed a sonnet to your beauty.”

  Smothering a laugh, Reina glanced up at Fulke.

  “Perhaps another time when you feel more yourself,” Fulke offered.

  “I have been working on it these hours past, my liege,” Guy, implored.

  “That is what concerns me, lad.”

  Accepting this for permission, Guy lurched forward into a drunken bow, calling loudly,

  Many lasses have turned this

  Lonely knight’s head

  Tavern wenches by the score

  Have warmed his cold bed…

  “Ahem.” The loud clearing of Fulke’s throat gave him pause.

  Guy squinted at him, slurring, “Aye, my liege?”

  Fighting an amused grin, he said, “Perhaps you should finish another time.”

  Reina buried her face in Fulke’s tunic to hide her laugh, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

  Dejected, Guy fell into his seat, mumbling sadly, “Aye, my liege.”

  Gervase slapped Guy on the back, driving him into the table. “That was by far, your best sonnet yet.”

  Guy straightened, looking hopeful. “Do you think so, Gervase?”

  “Aye,” Gervase slurred loudly. “Look yonder. Our lady is weeping from the sheer beauty of it.”

  Squinting at Reina, Guy slurred proudly, “I do have a way with words.”

  With an exaggerated roll of the eyes at the two, Talan slammed his hand on the table to stand. Scrunching his eyes, he peered in Reina’s direction. Swaying dangerously, he managed a garbled, “Gooden tide, my lady.”

  Falling back heavily into his chair, he missed altogether.

  From his seat on the floor, he held his cup aloft victoriously as the rest of the men roared with drunken laughter.

  Albin whirled towards Reina, knocking over his chair as he stood. Before he could attempt an approach, he stood with mouth agape as she approached him.

  The men grew quiet, watching in drunken fascination.

  With a beaming smile, she cupped Albin’s whiskered jaw. Pulling him down, she kissed each cheek. “You are a very wise man, Albin. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  Talan leaned towards him. Attempting a whisper, he yelled, “My lady said you are a very wise man and thanks you not to fart.”

  Listing in Talan’s direction, Albin shouted, “I bloody well know she said thank you, lack-wit. I am not slow!” Falling into his seat, he mumbled, “As to the rest, there are times a man cannot help himself.”

  Guy waved a hand in front of his nose. “It is not the sound so much as the smell that offends, Albin.”

  Face down on the table, Osbert interrupted Albin’s rebuttal. Holding his cup high above his head, he roared into the polished wood, “My lady!”

  Catching sight of the raised salute, Reina could not keep from laughing as she reseated herself beside Fulke.

  Joining in her mirth, Fulke’s deep throaty laugh sounded like a roar in the suddenly silent room. Exchanging pleased glances, the men raised their cups in his direction to toast the day.

  Once again in control of himself, Fulke lightly brushed the tears from Reina’s cheeks. “I love you, my lady.”

  In reply, she ran her fingertips along the side of his face. “And I you my lord.”

  The loud chorus of jealous groans from the table caused him to smile.

  * * * *

  Early the next morning, Fulke sat on the rim of the tub as Reina soaked. Trailing a hand through the warm water, he spanned the slight swell of her abdomen. “I will pray for a maiden with her mother’s beauty.”

  She smiled smugly. “I have already prayed for a son with his father’s handsome visage.”

  He leaned down to kiss her. “Whichever one it may be, we shall try again for the other.”

  Arching a brow, she pulled him into the bath. “Practice makes perfect, my lord.”

  When they joined the men for a late breakfast, Fulke noted the heaping platters of untouched food with amusement. Filling a plate to share with Reina, he chuckled when he approached the table.

  An ashen shade of gray, Albin looked away from the food. “Egad, Fulke. Have you no pity that you resort to torture so early in the morn?”

  Plopping a slice of sausage into his mouth, he lightly replied, “I seem to recall being interrupted when I pledged myself to my wife one fine morn not so long ago, Albin. I believe I stated at the time I give as good as I get.”

  Albin mumbled, “The man’s memory is a curse to us all,” before carefully laying his head on the table.

  Of the men, Talan seemed to be in the best shape. A shade of gray lighter than Albin’s, he raised bloodshot eyes to Fulke. “My liege,” he croaked. “I heard the servants discussing that the king is expected sometime on the morrow.” Swallowing hard, he rested his chin on his chest.

  Gervase spent the night in his chair. Arms at his sides, his head thrown back, he was snoring loudly at the ceiling.

  Wondering what the ladies would think if they were to see the dashing knight, Fulke chuckled.

  Propped on an elbow beside him, Guy stared absently into the fire.

  “That was quite some sonnet you recited for your lady yester-eve, Guy,” he called harshly.

  Guy’s eyes widened in horror as he shifted his gaze to Fulke. His mouth working to form some type of excuse, Fulke took pity on him. “I jest lad.”

  Sighing softly, Guy could do no more than return his gaze to the fire.

  Warin held his head between his palms, low in his seat. Glancing up to meet Reina’s look of concern, he attempted a weak smile.

  Osbert remained in the same position he held the night before. His hand wrapped around his empty cup, he snored into the table.

  Reina looked up at Fulke, her eyes filled with concern. “Is there not something we can do for them?”

  “There is, though I doubt they are in the condition to hear it.” Eyeing her untouched plate, he chided, “You are to take better care of yourself, mother of my child.” Picking up a slice of apple, he held it up for her.

  Reina smiled before taking a bite. “My son is very lucky to have such a father.”

  Albin groaned loudly. “It is too early in the morn to see such wanton displays.”

  “Only because you are not the recipient,” Fulke quipped.

  Albin managed a weak, “Boastful lout.”

  After Reina finished eating, Fulke leaned back in his chair. Facing her, he addressed the men. “I fear our brief respite will be over on the morrow, so I propose that we celebrate our Christmastide early.”

  He glanced at Warin. “Do you think you can advise the kitchens of our intent, lad?”

  Warin nodded slowly, replying hoarsely, “Consider it done, my liege.”

  Rising, he assisted Reina to stand. “We shall be outside, enjoying some fresh air. I suggest you all do the same when you are able.” Taking in Albin’s sickly pallor, he fought a grin. “Perhaps after a visit to the garderobe.”

  Albin glowered
in response as Fulke guided a laughing Reina from the hall. Waiting until he was out of earshot, he threw his head back to join her.

  Crossing the courtyard with his arm around her shoulders, she suddenly bent down. Alarmed, he reached for her when she popped back up with a handful of snow.

  Watching her pack the snow into a ball, he shook his head with a grin. “Do not even think about it.” Before he could move, he had a face full of snow.

  She attempted to flee as he scooped her up, slowly whirling her around. “You are going to get it for that.” Kissing her, he pulled her down into a snow bank.

  Shaking a well-placed pile of snow from his hair, he found six solemn faces staring at them.

  He dodged more snow thrown by Reina, to call, “You men act like you have never before seen a snow fight.”

  Albin slowly shook his head. “Not one that included you.”

  Fulke laughed, throwing a handful of snow into Albin’s surprised face. “There is a first for everything, is there not, my old friend?”

  Taking in Fulke’s heartfelt grin, Albin slowly smiled.

  Scooping up some snow of his own, he delivered it into Fulke’s face. “It is about time you came around. I had begun to lose all hope.”

  “No my friend, you never would have,” he said in all sincerity.

  Talan retaliated against the attack on Fulke by smacking Albin on the back of the head with snow as Gervase and Guy banded together against Warin and Osbert. It soon became a full-blown snow fight.

  Fulke protected Reina from the worst of it by shielding her behind him, only to have her pack snow down the neck of his tunic.

  He whirled around to scoop her up. “You do not fight fair, my lady.”

  Smiling up at him, she quirked a brow. “Whoever told you I did, my lord?”

  Leaning in for a kiss, he paused when he saw her eyes widen.

  He followed her gaze to a score of servants gathered at the top of the castle’s outer wall, silently watching them.

  Realizing what their carefree group must look like to the king’s staid servants, he whirled Reina back into the fight.

  * * * *