This Is All I Ask

by Lynn Kurland

  He heard Robin’s soft laugh suddenly break through the air like sunshine through a cloud. “My Anne would have me skewered for the like and you know it well.”

  “Then I bid you welcome anyway, such as it may be.”

  Christopher found himself in a bone-crushing embrace and he pounded Robin on the back as best he could. Then his former master took his face in his hands, kissed both cheeks, then ruffled his hair as if he’d had been a lad several years younger than Jason. Christopher cursed him thoroughly. Robin only laughed.

  “Whelp, you act as if I embarrassed you in front of some wench! Where is this woman who makes you keep up such appearances of manliness?”

  Christopher knew Gillian was standing near the fire, so he turned to her, held out his hand and smiled encouragingly. He heard her unwilling feet come slowly toward him. Her cold fingers soon came to rest in his palm.

  “My wife,” Christopher said, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “Gillian of Warewick.”

  “Warewick,” Robin repeated sharply. “I am hard pressed to understand why you would have aught to do with him, Christopher. Or with anything of his.”

  “I have nothing to do with him,” Christopher said grimly. “But I’ve taken Gillian gladly.”

  Robin swore. “I should have killed the man myself years ago. After I saw what he’d done to William—”

  “My lord!” Christopher interrupted hastily. “This isn’t the place for recounting past events.” By the saints, that was all Gillian needed to hear, a retelling of what her brother had suffered.

  “William?” Gillian echoed. “Christopher, what is this of Will—”

  “Later, Gillian,” Christopher said, tightening his grip on her hand. “’Tis naught. Nothing to fret over.”

  “Jason wrote that you’d wed,” Robin rumbled, “but he said your wife was so ferocious, she even had Berkhamshire tamed. Somehow I expected a woman as large as you are and with a visage as ugly as Colin’s. Surely this isn’t the dragoness my son sang the praises of.”

  Christopher eased Gillian in front of him and wrapped his arms over her chest to keep her there. She tried to elbow him in the ribs, but he merely tightened his embrace.

  “Here she is,” he said, suppressing his smile. “Talons and all.”

  “Hrumph,” Robin said, sounding unconvinced.

  Gillian trembled and Christopher rubbed her arms. “Courage, Gill,” he said softly. “And you, my lord,” he said to Robin, “leave her be.”

  “I’m merely having a look at her,” Robin said. Then he clucked his tongue. “Nay, this child is far too beautiful for all that fierceness. Where have you hidden your true lady, Christopher? The one who Jason claims has even tamed you?”

  “Why, the miserable little wretch!”

  “Ah, so the tales are true.”

  “They are not,” Christopher snapped. “I’m not tamed. I am lord of this keep still and Gillian jumps to obey my every whim. Isn’t that so, wife?”

  “Aye, milord,” she said, “’tis true.”

  Robin grunted. “Someone is lying here but damn me if I can’t divine who it is. Christopher, release your bride. I’ll question her over by the fire, where I can use the irons if she proves reluctant to divulge the entire tale.”

  “Very well,” Christopher said, fighting his smile.

  “But Christopher!” Gillian gasped.

  “Go with him, wife. I’ll come rescue you if I hear flesh singeing.”

  “Oh, Christopher, please,” Gillian begged, backing up against him.

  Christopher bent his head to whisper in her ear. “He teases you, Gill. Besides, ’tis evident you’ve tamed me, so you should have no trouble doing the like to Artane. Surely you’re fierce enough to face a paltry lord from the north.”

  His wife paused. Christopher could sense her gathering her courage about her. Then he felt her shoulders go back and her trembles cease. Almost.

  “Humor the dotard, Gill, while I’m about my business. I have a squire to find and thrash.”

  “As you wish,” Gillian whispered.

  “Come, Lady Blackmour,” Robin said, in his not-quite-fiercest of tones, “let us leave your lord to his play. I’ve a few questions to put to you.”

  Her gulp was painfully audible. Christopher gave her shoulders a final squeeze before he released her. Robin would do her no harm. Snarl and snap though he might, underneath he was quite tenderhearted.

  Christopher recognized the same failing in himself. Gillian certainly never hesitated to make use of it as often as she could. Perhaps she had tamed him after all.

  But, there was no sense in the rest of the realm knowing as much.

  “Jason!” he called. “Bring yourself over here, boy! I’ve a mind to speak to you about your correspondence!”

  • • •

  GILLIAN STRUGGLED TO STAND TALL AS ROBIN LED HER over to the fire. The return of his intimidating frown did nothing to bolster her courage. She watched Christopher walk off and knew her last hope of escape had just fled. She continued to walk only because she was being pulled—and by Artane, of all people!

  The tales she’d heard about him hadn’t been exaggerated. The man was huge. He was likely only a finger or two taller than Christopher but somehow that small bit was enough to make him seem enormous. His clothing wasn’t covered with buttons and jewels and all manner of baubles as her father’s was when he was trying to style himself a fine lord. Robin’s simple garments spoke volumes about a man who needed no adornment to appear powerful and important.

  She’d watched him stride across the hall with a grim expression. Christopher’s had been equally as grim. Watching the two men standing naught but a foot apart, she’d readily recognized the similarities. Both were proud. Both were excessively arrogant. Both were powerful warriors to the depths of their bones and were used to having their own way. Indeed she fancied that Christopher would seem very much like Robin when he had acquired that glint of silver at the temples. He already had the arrogance. Now all he needed was age.

  But presently her husband had escaped to wrestle with Jason, leaving her to face this man who wore such a fierce frown.

  He gestured for her to sit. “So,” he began, taking a seat across from her and looking at her with steely gray eyes, “you wed him.”

  She nodded, casting a nervous look over her shoulder to see what had become of Christopher. Jason had been found and was currently being shaken.

  “Why?”

  She looked back at Robin. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I asked why, woman. Why did you wed him?”

  Gillian clutched her hands in her lap. “I was given no choice in the matter, my lord. He offered for me and my father accepted.”

  “And when you learned of the offer, did you rejoice because you knew you would soon be wealthy?”

  Right on the heels of the realization that she truly should be offended at Robin’s question came another more startling revelation: Robin was just as concerned about Christopher’s happiness as she was. She felt some of the tension ease from her and she even managed a small smile.

  “In truth, I pleaded for my father not to send me here.”

  “For what reason?” Robin’s expression hadn’t softened any.

  “I thought Christopher had horns.”

  A corner of the man’s mouth twitched. “I see. And what did you do when you learned he didn’t?”

  “I fell in love with him.”

  “Before or after you knew his secret?”

  Gillian lifted her finger to her eye with a questioning look. Robin nodded carefully.

  “After.”

  For some reason, the answer seemed to please him. He relaxed back against the chair and a smile came to his lips. And then Gillian understood why Robin of Artane’s smile alone was enough to set any queen’s lady to swooning. His smile was pure mischief and she knew where Jason had come by his charm.

  A tremendous crash made her jump and she jerked around in her chair in time to se
e Christopher take down two men his size onto a bench that collapsed under their collective weight. Jason stood nearby, laughing heartily. Gillian would have risen, but Robin put his hand on her arm.

  “Leave them.”

  “But they might hurt him! Who are those knaves?”

  Robin’s eyes twinkled merrily. “Those knaves, lady, are my two eldest boys.”

  Gillian was torn between embarrassment at having possibly offended the intimidating earl of Artane and worry that said earl’s rambunctious children would injure her husband. And then Christopher caught a fistful of Jason’s clothing and jerked him down into the fray. At least her husband wasn’t being thrashed. Only slightly relieved, she turned back to her husband’s guest and fought to ignore her blush.

  “Forgive me, my lord. I meant nothing by it.”

  Robin waved aside her words. “As I have done nothing for months but listen to those two whine for me to pay a visit to Christopher, I can’t help but agree with your assessment of their characters. Now, let us talk of something less tedious. You’re seeing Christopher fed well?”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  “And you bathe him now and then?”

  Gillian couldn’t stop her intense blush. She pulled at the neck of her gown, trying to ease her discomfort. Bathe Christopher? Though she had never been overfond of the practice, Christopher seemed to find it quite to his liking. But if Robin only had an inkling of the times Christopher had lured her into his bath and bathing had been the very last thing on his mind!

  Robin chuckled. “Ah, say no more. I can plainly see that the lad’s ears cannot help but be clean. Now, tell me of yourself. Blackmour agrees with you?”

  “Very much, my lord. He is a wonderful man.”

  “Nay, child, I spoke of the keep. How do you like this dismal place?”

  Gillian smiled reflexively. “’Tis the most wondrous place in England, I’m sure. Much finer than my father’s hall.”

  “Saw you no other?”

  She shook her head.

  Robin smiled gently. “I’ll have Christopher bring you to Artane for the Christmas feasts and you’ll have aught else to compare this gloomy hole to.”

  “I like this gloomy hole,” she insisted.

  Robin laughed. “Ah, child, you are a fitting mate for him. Jason didn’t exaggerate your fierceness. But you must come this winter just the same so you might see the place your lord passed his youth and the damage he wrought on my hall.”

  “I would like that very much,” she admitted, “but I fear Christopher will not accept.”

  Robin was silent. He waited patiently, one eyebrow lifted in question.

  “He won’t leave Blackmour, you see,” she said softly. “I fear he is very proud, my lord. Here he requires no aid, for he knows every stone and twig, but outside the gates . . .”

  Robin nodded. “Say no more, Lady Gillian, for I understand well Christopher’s pride. And,” he added with a dry smile, “I can blame no one but myself for it, for I fear I encouraged it in the lad for many years. I daresay it has served him in the past and likely serves him well enough at present.”

  “Aye.”

  “But it doesn’t do much to allow you to see much of England and you should. My family was fair bursting with curiosity about the child who had finally tamed the Dragon and I’ll admit I was sent here for the express purpose of discovering the details.” He laughed softly. “I could not refuse my lady her request, for she does love a good romance. Aye, you must come, simply so my womenfolk will leave me in peace. Leave Christopher to me.”

  Gillian nodded, but she had the feeling Robin would be wasting his breath. Christopher wasn’t a man to change his mind.

  “Papa! Papa, did you see my lord? He bested Phillip and Kendrick both without breaking a sweat!”

  Gillian watched Robin laugh as Jason bounded over, fair frothing at the mouth with boasts of Christopher’s prowess. Robin caught Jason around the neck and pulled him down for a hearty kiss.

  “Aye, I saw enough, young one. Fetch chairs for your lord’s guests, Jason, and see to their comfort. Show me that Christopher has taught you something besides the finest swordplay south of Artane.”

  “But ’tis just Kendrick and Phillip, Papa. Surely they can use the floor.”

  “Jason!” Christopher exclaimed, coming up behind him and trying to look stern. “You will see to their comfort immediately. Remember, they are our guests—as unsavory a thought as that is.”

  The two young men standing next to Christopher gave him slurs in return, but they were grinning as they did so. They were also sweating and looking rather rumpled. Gillian felt pride rise up in her breast. Artane’s sons were as tall as Christopher, yet he had bested them both. She sat up a bit straighter in her chair.

  Then she realized they were looking at her and her courage deserted her with a rush. They were likely pitying Christopher that he was saddled with a homely wife. Had she ever considered herself beautiful? Nay, she’d been a fool.

  She rose, looking down and trying to hide behind her hair. “I’ll see to a meal,” she mumbled.

  Christopher caught her before she could move away. “Nay, Jason will see to the like. You will see to me. These two curs think me a gelded stallion and I’ll not have it. I’m as untamed as the day you wed me, Gill, and you’ll stay here and attest to the fact.”

  “Christopher, please,” she whispered.

  “Gillian, what is it?”

  If she could have died, she would have. It would have been preferable to the scene her husband was causing.

  “I beseech you to let me go,” she whispered frantically. “Please!”

  “Why?” he whispered back.

  Gillian felt all eyes in the room riveted on her. She leaned up and put her lips against Christopher’s ear.

  “I do not wish to shame you,” she whispered hoarsely, tears burning her eyes.

  “What is this?”

  “I am not beautiful . . .”

  Christopher wrapped his arm around her and drew her close, then cupped his hand against her ear. “Foolishness, Gill. You’re very beautiful. And you’ve courage to equal mine. If I can face these souls, so can you.”

  He kissed her quickly, then turned her around and pulled her back against his chest, folding his arms over her shoulders.

  “Lads, meet my lady, Gillian. Gill, one of these is Phillip, Robin’s eldest and heir.”

  A dark-haired, gray-eyed younger image of Robin inclined his head.

  “Lady Gillian.”

  The other young man grinned. “Just remember him as the fastidious one. The only reason Christopher bested us is because Phillip didn’t want to muss his clothes.”

  Phillip threw an elbow to shut his sibling up and Christopher laughed at the second young man’s strangled grunt.

  “The objectionable one is Kendrick.” He paused and Gillian watched him listen carefully for a moment or two. “I don’t hear your shadow babbling flatteries to my serving wenches, Kendrick. Did he finally meet his end on some lord’s gibbet?” he asked hopefully.

  Kendrick only laughed. “Not as of yet, my lord. Royce is merely off roaming the countryside. He’s too restless to make Blackmour his home for a few fortnights.”

  “A few fortnights?” Christopher choked. “Surely you have business elsewhere, lad, that will require your attention soon? Perhaps you and young Royce could hie yourselves off to the continent and make mischief there.”

  “But why ever would we want to do that?” Kendrick asked.

  He wore the same look of innocence Gillian had seen on Jason’s face a score of times. Now she knew where Christopher’s squire had come by it.

  “Your larder is stocked well enough for my tastes, I’m sure,” Kendrick continued. “And the scenery here is the loveliest I’ve seen in months.”

  Gillian looked at her husband in time to see the fierce frown he threw Kendrick’s way.

  “Aye, ’tis most fair,” Christopher said curtly, “and you’d do well n
ot to admire it overmuch.”

  Gillian looked from her husband to Kendrick and back, but couldn’t divine for the life of her why her husband was scowling and Kendrick was grinning. Perhaps Kendrick had made himself too much at home in Christopher’s garden at some point in the past. She could well understand why her husband might be annoyed at possible future plundering of his herbs.

  “As you can imagine, Gillian my love,” Christopher said, with another dark look cast in Kendrick’s direction, “Kendrick is the one who’s given Robin all his gray hairs. Isn’t that so, my lord?”

  “Between you, Christopher, these two and Jason,” Robin replied with a smile, “aye, I’d say I’ve earned all the white in my crown. At least you’ve found a lass to control you. Now if I could rid myself of Phillip and Kendrick in like manner, I might have some peace in my household.”

  “You’ll never have it with Phillip’s betrothed underfoot,” Kendrick grinned. “Christopher, you should see the wench. I vow she’s never had a wash, nor combed her hair. The only reason Phillip wants her is that she will bring him a rich holding.”

  “She’s a fine woman,” Phillip growled.

  Kendrick threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Aye, if you could find her under all that filth! Saints, Phillip, her hall is such a sty, I daresay you’d misplace her and never run across her again. Not that you’d be there long enough to try. How long was it you managed to stay the last time? Two days before she had her guards toss you into the moat?”

  Phillip shoved Kendrick, who backed up into Jason and almost upset the tray of cups he was carrying. Jason cursed his older brothers fluently, then presented himself to Christopher.

  “Wine, my lord.”

  “And chairs?”

  “Seen to, my lord.”

  Robin laughed. “I can’t believe it, Christopher. My youngest lad has acquired manners.”

  “Aye, in spite of himself,” Christopher said, taking his seat.

  Gillian allowed Christopher to draw her down onto his lap and was grateful for his closeness. Conversing with men was not something that came easily to her, especially when the men were so intimidating.

  Phillip was the spitting image of his father, both in word and movement. Kendrick was no less handsome than his brother, nor was he any less lordly. Jason had told her numerous stories about Kendrick’s escapades, which always seemed to include some sort of conquest, be it in the bedchamber or on the battlefield. Looking at Kendrick’s half grin as he listened to Phillip discuss his betrothed’s holdings, she could readily believe either. But charming or not, she couldn’t meet his eyes, nor Phillip’s. They were uncharted territory and she had no idea how to, nay, not even the desire to speak to them and learn for herself if they would treat her poorly. Dangerous men were not something her wavering courage permitted her.