A Time for Love

by Lynn Kurland

  Baldwin sneered. “I wouldn’t spare one the effort. Why, when I’ve your death to think on?”

  “Why indeed,” Robin muttered. He found, suddenly, that he tired of this confrontation. Though he could surely understand his father’s desire to keep Sedgwick in his sights, he wondered if that necessity hadn’t passed. Should he remain at Artane, he would suggest to his sire that life would be more pleasant without Baldwin’s smirk to endure each day. And ’twas a certainty Baldwin was no sterling swordsman.

  Robin went on the attack and took as little time as possible to dispatch his foe. Baldwin’s sword went flying, and he came at Robin with his fists. Robin sighed, tossed his blade at Jason, and showed Baldwin as quickly as possible that he knew how to use his hands as well as his weapons. When Baldwin tripped and went down heavily onto the field, Robin walked away without another word. He had had enough. Perhaps he would find another tunic and see how Anne fared.

  It was his duty after all.

  And he wasn’t one to shirk duty.

  It would also give him ample time to see if she looked on him with disgust. He could have sworn he’d felt her shiver the night before, but that could have been with revulsion.

  By the saints, he didn’t even trust his own instincts anymore.

  “Jason.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Jason said, handing Robin his blade.

  “Help me off with this mail upstairs, then use the rest of the afternoon for your pleasure. You might train a bit more.”

  “Aye, I could.”

  “Or you could deliver a message to my sister Isabelle for me.”

  “If you required it of me, I daresay I could force myself to.”

  Robin smiled before he could stop himself. “Ah, Jason, I have ruined you for polite company.”

  Jason shook his head. “You have taught me much, my lord. I could not have asked for a finer master. And I would gladly accept any advice you could give me in the matter of wooing this headstrong wench of mine.”

  Robin had a hard time hiding his surprise. “Me? Rather you should ask my womanly brother.”

  “Nay, I would rather hear your words. Any man could win a woman with flattery. Isabelle is apparently unmoved by it. What else would you suggest?”

  Robin gave it a good deal of thought until they made their way to Artane’s bedchamber. Robin paused before the door. “Brush her hair for her,” he said. “For the life of me I don’t know why, but they all seem to like it.”

  “And kissing?”

  “If you kiss my sister before she wears your ring, I’ll disembowel you. Lengthwise across your belly. We decided that was a much more painful and prolonged death, didn’t we?”

  Jason gulped. Robin opened the door. “Come inside, Jason, and help me. Then you are free for the day.”

  Anne gasped the moment he entered. She rose and started toward him. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing,” he said shortly.

  “Nothing?” she echoed. “Your clothes are fair to falling off you and this is nothing?”

  Robin ignored Anne as Jason pulled off his mail shirt. He pulled off his tunic as well. Then he looked at her.

  And all his irritation over Nicholas’s teasing vanished. Being the object of Nicholas’s jests wasn’t that painful. He could always thrash his younger brother if need be. And, besides, did any of that matter when he held Anne in his arms, felt her trembling mouth beneath his, touched her smooth skin and silky hair? Nicholas could laugh as long and as loudly as he liked. He had no woman of his own.

  Robin caught Anne’s empty hand and brought it to his lips. “I am well.”

  “You’re unbloodied,” she corrected. “Well is still undecided.” She looked at Jason. “Who did this?”

  Jason laid Robin’s mail shirt over a trunk. “Nicholas, my lady.”

  “Is his skill so poor that he tripped and fell on you with his blade bared? Or was he mooning over some wench? Aye, I can see that readily enough.”

  Robin snorted. “As can I. Jason, I want a meal. See to it before you seek out my sister, would you?”

  By the swiftness of his leave-taking, Robin suspected his squire had a mind to woo himself. Poor wretch.

  Robin made himself comfortable in a chair before the fire and passed a goodly hour watching Anne surreptitiously as she sewed. There came a point, though, when he couldn’t bear just the watching anymore. He leaned over and before he could give it more thought, kissed her softly.

  She looked at him in surprise.

  “What?” he asked. “Must I best you at chess before I kiss you?”

  She looked at him in silence for so long, he began to grow uncomfortable.

  “Anne, what is it?”

  She shook her head. “I vow I do not know you.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Why not?” he said, tossing the words off casually. Saints, what was he supposed to say? I’m wracking my poor head for ways to please you?

  “You bastard,” she said through gritted teeth. She rose ungracefully to her feet and glared at him. “I’ll not be sport for you.”

  Sport? He felt his temper rise swiftly, but before he could give vent to it, Anne had limped over to the alcove.

  And then he could have sworn he heard a sniffle.

  Ah, by the saints. He rolled his eyes as he heaved himself to his feet. He stepped up behind her and put his arms around her waist, dropping his chin to her shoulder.

  “Anne, you aren’t sport for me.”

  “Of course not,” she said curtly. “Why would you even take sport of a cripple, much less anything else?”

  “Cease with that talk,” he exclaimed. “You know it angers me when you speak of yourself that way.”

  “How would I know?” she demanded. “You’ve hardly spoken to me since it happened, except to curse me.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  “Aye, it is.”

  He stood there and considered her words. Was it true? Not at first. At first, they had recovered together. Ah, but then he’d tried to defend her honor and Baldwin had humiliated him. Had he spoken to her since? Unlikely. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him.

  “Anne . . .”

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she wept “I couldn’t bear it, Robin. I vow I couldn’t.”

  “Anne, why would I hurt you?”

  “You hurt me just by being here,” she said. She pulled away from him and turned toward the window. “I beg you to go. Please.”

  Robin felt his heart still within him. “You want me to leave?”

  “Aye,” she said. “I want you to go.”

  Robin didn’t want to, but he couldn’t see what else to do. Anne wasn’t turning to face him. So he turned and walked soundlessly from the chamber. He hardly noticed that he wasn’t wearing his boots. He nodded to his men, then continued on down the passageway. At least Anne would be safe with his guards at her door.

  Her weeping haunted him all the way down to the great hall.

  The next day Robin still sat in a chair before the fire in the great hall and stared into the flames before him. He hadn’t moved since the afternoon before and already it was afternoon again. Anne’s words rang over and over in his head. She didn’t want him. He’d come home for naught. She found him lacking. Hadn’t she said as much? What else could she have meant by telling him if he stayed he would only hurt her?

  Booted feet stopped next to him and a long frame settled into the chair facing him.

  “Rob, what is it?”

  Robin spared his brother a weary look before he turned back to the fire. “I regret there is no longer anything for you to laugh about,” he said heavily. “Forgive me for not providing you with more sport.”

  “Now, Rob, how often do you provide me with something to tease you about? And I’m sorry about almost cutting you. You know I didn’t do it purposely.”

  “I know.” Robin sighed. “It was my fault. I
was preoccupied.”

  “Speaking of your preoccupation, why aren’t you with her?”

  Robin met Nicholas’s gray eyes. “She bid me leave her,” he said flatly.

  “Perhaps she needed a moment of privacy.”

  “She bid me go away, Nick. For longer than merely a moment of privacy. She said I hurt her merely by being near her. You tell me what that means if not that she cannot bear the sight of me.”

  Nicholas looked into the fire. Robin watched his brother’s expression sober and his heart sank even further. So it was obvious to Nick too. Robin groaned inwardly. How could he have ever imagined that she would come to care for him? It was obvious that someone like Nicholas was what she wanted, a man with polish, a man who wouldn’t hurt her with his rough edges.

  Nicholas leaned forward with his forearms on his knees.

  “If I told you something honestly, from my heart, would you hear me?”

  How much worse could he hurt than he hurt at present? Robin nodded slowly.

  “And you won’t immediately discount my words as the ramblings of your younger, empty-headed sibling?”

  “Difficult, but I’ll try.”

  Nicholas didn’t smile. “Robin, I’ve jested with you in the past about things, about women and your poor tastes, but you know I only did it because I love you so well. And I think you take yourself far too seriously.” He smiled briefly.“’Tis a younger brother’s duty to torment his elder sibling and, since you never let me forget that you are the saints only know how much my senior, I have ever repaid you by teasing you. But I’m in earnest now.”

  Robin didn’t move. “Go on.”

  “I’m certain you would see this as well, were you able to step back a few paces and look at what has happened between you and Anne over the years. She loves you. She’s loved you for as long as I can remember. And after our little morning at Baldwin’s mercy, she loved you still. But what you don’t know is that she never saw what happened—”

  “And she’ll never know of it,” Robin growled. “If you say one word to her about it, I’ll kill you.”

  Nicholas shrugged off the threat. “That isn’t the point. What you don’t understand is that she has no idea why one day you were welcoming her into your sickroom and the next you were casting her from it. She thinks it is something she did.”

  “Of course she doesn’t. She’s done nothing to me. Short of making me daft each chance she had.”

  “You’re not listening to me, Robin. Anne doesn’t trust you.”

  “But I’m not planning to hurt her. Can’t she see that?”

  “Based on what? How you’ve never wavered in your devotion before?”

  “I never did,” Robin snarled. “My feelings for her never changed.”

  Nicholas looked at him so long in silence, Robin felt like squirming. Then he realized what he had said and how far he’d laid open his heart to his brother.

  “She irritates me as much as she did when she was eight,” he said quickly, hoping he’d put enough gruffness in his voice.

  Nicholas smiled gravely. “Did you just hear yourself?”

  Robin scowled at him in silence.

  “Rob, you just admitted to loving her, then you denied it. Is it any wonder Anne’s frightened witless of letting you close to her? How would you feel if she told you she loved you, then immediately made light of it?” He put his hand on Robin’s shoulder and shook him gently. “Don’t be a fool, Robin. You love her and she loves you. Somewhere, deep in that hidden heart of yours is a place she needs to see. I don’t expect any of the rest of us will ever see it, but Anne deserves to. Be as gruff as you like with her in public, but don’t do it in private.” He rose and looked down at Robin. “She’s far less likely to hurt you than you are to hurt her. I’d certainly trust her with my heart.”

  Robin watched him walk away. He fought with himself until Nicholas reached the hall door.

  “Don’t you dare,” Robin called after him.

  Nicholas smiled and made him a small bow before he left the hall. Robin turned back to his contemplation of the fire and his brother’s words. He had no trouble seeing the truth of the matter. How could Anne possibly have known why he pushed her away? For all she knew, he could have shunned her because of her limp.

  He felt the room begin to spin. Had she actually thought such a thing? Pieces began to fall furiously into place. She thought no man would want her because she was crippled. And why shouldn’t she think that? He had shunned her after her accident. It would have been easy enough to assume that was the reason why. She hadn’t seen his humiliation at Baldwin’s hands; he’d threatened anyone who ever spoke about it so severely that it had likely become past history in everyone’s mind but his. Robin put his head in his hands and groaned. It was his fault. His stupid, foolish pride had hurt the very last person he had wanted to.

  He rose, needing to pace. Was it too late? Nay, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t allow it. It would likely take time, but perhaps he could win her trust again. He could never offer her flowery words and prettily sung ballads. Perhaps she would take him as he was, flawed and rough. Perhaps she could gentle him. If anyone could, it would be Anne.

  But first a bath and a change of clothes. He’d borrow something of Nicholas’s, then present himself at his chamber and hope that Anne would unlock the door.

  24

  Anne sat in the alcove with her knees drawn up and hugged to her chest. It was a painful way to sit, but she didn’t care. The pain in her thigh numbed the pain in her heart. She’d hardly moved from the spot since Robin had left her there. His sire’s bedchamber was the very last place she wanted to be, but she remembered vividly the sound of a crossbow clattering at her feet. If nothing else, she was safe where she was.

  But once the culprit was discovered, she would be out of the lord’s chamber immediately, never to return.

  She was past weeping. She hadn’t wept the night before, which had almost surprised her. Either she was too tired for the like, or she had expected Robin’s words. Or perhaps it was that Robin truly did not love her and thus her tears need not be spent over him. She could hardly believe he had kissed her as he had. Perhaps boredom had driven him to it, or that he wasn’t free to bed several of Rhys’s serving wenches in rapid succession. Well, he was welcome to them. She wanted no part of him.

  She was also a very great liar.

  She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. More was the pity that she loved him. And despite his words, she couldn’t help but believe he harbored some affection for her.

  Unless he could truly kiss her as he had without his heart taking part in it.

  Was that possible?

  A soft knock sounded on the door, interrupting her thoughts. She groaned as she unfolded herself from the seat and made her way haltingly across the floor. The knocking continued until she gained the door and pulled back the bolt. She opened the door and flinched once she saw Robin standing there.

  He looked as if he hadn’t slept since he’d left the night before. Likely because he’d been ravishing as many of his father’s serving wenches as possible. She pursed her lips and turned back toward the alcove, leaving the door open. He could come or go as he pleased. She didn’t care.

  She was very surprised, when she sat down, to find Robin hovering in front of her. He covered her with a blanket, then stood there with his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  She didn’t look up.

  “I’ll build you a fire.”

  He walked away, not waiting for an answer. Anne looked out the window. She heard Robin tending the fire, then heard his sound of dismay when he saw the untouched food. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of wine being poured into a cup and that cup being set on the stone of the hearth. Wine would have been good. It might have soothed the chill in her heart.

  She heard Robin’s firm footfall as he walked to her. He shuttered the windows.

  “I’ve made you
a place by the fire.”

  “I’m not interested in it.”

  Anne didn’t protest when he picked her up in his arms. Why bother? He wouldn’t listen to her anyway. Had he been capable of listening, he wouldn’t have come back.

  She saw the nest of furs and pillows and then found herself set atop it. A heavy chair had been set there to support her back.

  “I’m not a cripple,” she said stiffly as Robin arranged a pillow behind her back. “I need none of this.”

  “Anne, this has nothing to do with your leg. I would certainly be more comfortable sitting this way.”

  “You seem to have no trouble sleeping on the uncomfortable floor.”

  “I’m accustomed to sleeping on the ground. I even slept in a tree once. The floor seems as commodious as a stack of goosefeather mattresses. Well, perhaps not a stack. Saints, woman, must you be so contrary?”

  She looked at him, ready to give as good as she got, only to find him looking at her kindly. It was enough to irritate her into silence. She turned her head and tried to ignore him.

  It didn’t last. He nagged her until she ate. And after she could barely breathe, which satisfied him, he put a cup of warm wine in her hands.

  She drank it, merely to have him cease troubling her, then she rose and walked to the alcove. Her leg was slowly beginning to pain her less. Perhaps she could credit Robin and his endless walking her about the chamber for that.

  “I would like to do something to please you,” he said quietly.

  It was difficult to hide her surprise. By the saints, life with this man would be more complicated than she could stomach. Perhaps she would truly be better off without him.

  “As a penance,” he added.

  “For what?”

  “For speaking foolishness last night.”

  She waited, but apparently that was the only detail she would have from him. He looked very unwilling to say any more and that left her to speculate on just what he’d said the night before that he found foolish. There was ample material there, so she took his words and put them aside for future contemplation. What she did understand, however, was that she might very well have him at her mercy.