A Time for Love

by Lynn Kurland

  Robin scowled. “Is that such an unappealing thought?”

  “Oh, nay,” she managed.

  He grunted. “Then make haste, Anne. And dress warmly. I’ll wait for you below.”

  He pulled the door shut quietly and Anne remained there, staring at it as if she hadn’t seen it before. Robin of Artane had just told her he planned to have her to himself for the whole of the day.

  Alone.

  Unchaperoned.

  Never mind that he was her husband. Never mind that he’d spent the past handful of days enduring numerous tortures in an effort to please her. That he wanted to be alone with her, with her mind you, was something she wasn’t quite sure she could digest.

  The door opened suddenly and Robin peered in.

  “Don’t hear you moving,” he said.

  And then he gave her the briefest of smiles before he shut the door again.

  Anne wondered if she might manage to clothe herself before she fell over in a faint. Alone and facing his smiles at the same time?

  By the saints, this was unexpected.

  She shook her head to clear it, then went in search of clothes. With no idea of what Robin had in mind, she dressed as sensibly as she could. She could only hope his idea of a day of pleasure did not include a lengthy stay in the lists, though she wore her boots just in case.

  Once she was dressed, she took a deep breath, put her shoulders back, and opened the door. No sense in dawdling. Robin would come to fetch her otherwise.

  Though she had to admit the thought of that wasn’t unappealing either.

  She shut the door behind her, then looked up and squeaked. Robin himself was leaning against the opposite wall with his arms folded over his chest and a frown on his face. Apparently the lists did not figure into his plans for the day, for she could see no mail on him. He pushed away from the wall and straightened. Anne looked up at him and felt somehow very small and fragile. She tried a smile.

  “Will this suit?” she asked, holding up a bit of her gown for his inspection.

  “Aye,” he said, taking her hand. “Perfectly.” He lifted her hand to his lips, then stopped and scowled. “Do I kiss?” he asked, sounding rather irritated, “or do I not? I vow my grandmother’s peacocks have left me positively bewildered.”

  Well, there was no point in beginning to bite her tongue now. She’d spent the whole of her life sharpening it on the man before her, so she’d best continue as she’d begun. He might begin to worry if she didn’t speak her mind.

  “Kiss,” she stated.

  “Think you?”

  “Definitely.”

  And so he did.

  Anne felt tingles start on the back of her hand and work their way down her arm and up the back of her scalp. She shivered.

  And he smiled.

  “Think what those silly lads at court are missing,” he said.

  “As well as their ladies.”

  “Though I would kill anyone who took such a liberty with you,” he added.

  “You are barbaric, my lord.”

  “But do I suit?” he asked.

  “Perfectly,” she answered, without hesitation.

  Robin stared at her for a moment or two in silence, looked over her head at the door behind her, then scowled.

  “Damn her anyway,” he grumbled.

  And with that, he took Anne’s hand and pulled her down the passageway with him. She hardly dared speculate on why he was having such unkind feelings toward his grandmother, but it seemed to have something to do with her inhabiting his bedchamber.

  Or perhaps ’twas that she was inhabiting his bed.

  That was almost too lustful a thought to contemplate, even given her recently lustful state of mind. But since Robin was in truth her husband, and since she had more courage than any bruised and bloodied lout he’d ever fought with—his words and not hers, though she had found them very much to her liking—there was no sense in not being honest about her feelings toward him.

  For indeed, his kiss had been exceptionally memorable.

  As were his confessions of the night before. She could hardly believe that such a simple confrontation with Baldwin had been what had ruined so much of their lives. Looking back on it now, she could understand Robin’s actions completely. From the time she’d known him, she’d known he wished to prove himself worthy of Rhys’s affection. The possibility of failure, and the accompanying disgrace, had driven him far past where it should have in the lists.

  And it wouldn’t have made any difference to Robin if he had been just recently recovered from a fever. That he’d been humiliated before the other lads would have devastated him.

  But to think ’twas her opinion that had mattered so much to him.

  The witless oaf.

  She sighed as she stepped down the last step behind him into the great hall. Much as she grieved for their loss, she grieved as well for the suffering it had caused him. And for what? To prove himself superior to Baldwin? That had never been in question. To prove his worthiness to Rhys? Never had a son been more beloved of a father. To prove himself to her?

  Rather that he had not shunned her.

  But that was behind them. He took her hand in his as they crossed the great hall and Anne felt as if the years gone before had never been, so great was her pleasure in the present moment. Robin was hers, she was his, and nothing else mattered.

  She even suspected he and his father would again see eye-to-eye before the winter was out. She had no doubts Rhys had been angry with him, but she very much suspected Rhys had pushed Robin to the altar simply because he had known it was what Robin wanted deep in his heart.

  Hadn’t Robin said he should have wed her earlier during their conversings the night before?

  And for her, there was no question where her heart lay. Nay, she would thank Rhys when next she saw him, and flick her husband smartly on the ear if he didn’t do the same.

  They left the great hall and Robin slowed his pace to match hers as they descended the steps to the courtyard. In spite of all her fine thoughts, she couldn’t help but wonder if Robin regretted her limp. She looked up at him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what?” he asked gravely.

  She sighed. “For going so slowly.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve no need to apologize for it. It gives me ample time to enjoy the beauty before me.”

  “Well, your father’s keep is marvelous.”

  “I spoke of you,” he said, “though I must admit Artane is a fine place as well. But you,” he said, looking at her intently, “aye, you are a pleasure to look on at length.”

  She could hardly believe the change in him, but she wasn’t about to argue. She smiled up at him. “Robin de Piaget, are you wooing me?”

  “Aye,” he said cheerfully. “Do you like it?”

  “Very much,” she admitted.

  He squeezed her hand, then led her across the courtyard to where a cluster of men waited. Robin stopped, looked at her, and frowned thoughtfully.

  “I’ve wondered what would be more comfortable,” he said slowly, “but I couldn’t decide. Do you prefer your own mount, or shall you ride with me?”

  “I could bear my own,” she answered.

  “And the other?”

  “I could bear that as well, if you like,” she said.

  “I’ll endeavor not to drop you,” he added.

  “My thanks, I’m sure.”

  “We’ll bring your mount just in case.” He nodded at his men. “They’ll come too, of course.”

  “Of course.” She looked at the men, but they were busying themselves seeing to their gear. They were men Anne had seen before with Robin, and she suspected by looking at them that they were a handful of the fiercest of the lads he had brought from France with him.

  “’Twould be foolhardy to take you from the keep without some men to guard you.”

  “Though you would be enough,” she said.

  “Likely so, but I fear I may beco
me distracted and not be able to give my surroundings my full attention.”

  Fortunately it was cold outside, so the crisp air saw to the fire in her cheeks, else she would have been tempted to fan herself.

  “The lads will disappear,” he continued. “You’ll never know they’re there.”

  She looked up at him and frowned. “They’re accustomed to this sort of thing?”

  “If by this sort of thing, you mean secret trysts with lovers, then nay,” he said, returning her frown. “I daresay they’re more accustomed to scouting out the enemy. It would hardly serve them to show themselves before they’ve discovered anything, now would it?”

  She made a solemn, silent vow never again to presuppose anything about her husband. She suspected that her guesses would never be close to the mark anyway. She sighed.

  “Forgive me. I have misjudged you.”

  “’Tis never wise to believe rumor.”

  “I can see that now.”

  He leaned closer to her. “I have far less experience than I’ve been credited with,” he whispered.

  She looked up at him in surprise. “In truth?”

  “In truth.”

  “But . . .”

  “You’ve little experience with women at court if you think all their boasts are truthful. What else are they to say when I come to my bed, find them there waiting, and boot them out with not so much as a kiss for their trouble?”

  “Except the fair-haired lasses, of course,” she said, wondering if he would now clout her in the nose for repeating her father’s words.

  He looked at her narrowly. “Your cheek is astonishing.”

  “And how dull you would find it otherwise.” She squeezed his hand. “Let us leave your lovers, however few they may be and whatever their hair color, in the past, my lord.”

  “Gladly,” he muttered as he led her to his mount, then swung up into the saddle. It was a low saddle, however, and she could easily see where she might fit before him on his horse’s withers. She could only hope it would not be as uncomfortable as it looked.

  One of Robin’s men lifted her up and he settled her sideways across his thighs. He took up his reins and clucked at his horse.

  “Painful?” he asked.

  “That depends on the length of the journey,” she said.

  “Will you last to the shore?” he asked.

  “The shore?” She looked at him with surprise. “Truly?”

  “I thought it might please you.”

  “You thought well,” she said happily. “Aye, ‘twill be a pleasure to walk there. I’ve missed it this year.”

  He was silent as they made their way down to the outer gates and away from the keep. Anne grew used to the motion of his horse and the feel of his arms around her. She even found herself leaning her head against his shoulder.

  “You know,” he said slowly, “I have no other keep so close to the sea. Well, save one in France and ’tis unfit for habitation.”

  She thought on that for a bit, wondering what it was he was telling her. “And?”

  “Well, I suppose my sire won’t cast us outside the gates, but we may have to spend time in other places not so near the sea. Will that grieve you?”

  She looked at him. “Does it matter?”

  “Of course,” he said, looking puzzled. “I don’t wish for you to be unhappy.”

  “Robin, I daresay the place doesn’t matter so much as the company.”

  He grunted thoughtfully, but said nothing more. Anne watched the land before her fall away to the sea and marveled not only at the beauty of it, but the delight of watching the like from the shelter of her husband’s arms. Her husband. She could scarce accustom herself to the idea of calling him that, yet it seemed as if it always should have been so.

  Once they had reached the shore, Robin bid his mount stop, then he swung down. The beast was perfectly still until Robin had held up his arms and pulled Anne into them. She looked around and was surprised to see none of his men.

  “They’re still here?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Aye. Scouting and such. ’Tis what they’re most adept at, and it pleases them as well.”

  “And that matters to you?”

  He smiled dryly. “Though many would say a mere command should be enough to sway a man, I’ve found that such commands serve me better if given to men whose talents already lie with what they’re required to do. I’ve the luxury of my own guard and the means with which to pay them very well. I chose men who suited my purposes and whom my purposes suited.”

  “And they are fond of you, I suppose,” she said.

  He shrugged. “I doubt they lie awake at night thinking on it, but I suppose they are fond enough.” He straightened her cloak over her shoulders, then took her hand. “Their purpose, however, is to be forgotten today, so let us do so. I brought you here to have you to myself.”

  She shook her head and smiled as he took her hand. “I don’t know that I’ll ever accustom myself to hearing such things from you.”

  He sighed. “I suppose another apology—”

  “Nay,” she said with a laugh, “no more of those. I vow I’m not recovered from the ones I’ve already received.”

  He paused. “Perhaps, my lady, we should begin again.”

  “How mean you that?” she asked.

  “Mayhap it would serve us to begin afresh, as if we had never met and had nothing of our past burdening us.”

  “Is that possible?” she mused.

  “Is it worth the time to try?”

  If such a thing were truly possible, she couldn’t see how it could hurt. So she nodded. “Aye, I daresay it is.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment or two, then released her hand and shooed her away. “Go walk.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Go walk,” he repeated. “Down the strand.”

  “By myself?”

  “You’ll be perfectly safe, if that’s your worry. Besides, you never know who you’ll encounter on a lonely strand in the north.”

  She hesitated. “The sand is not the easiest thing to walk on.”

  He frowned immediately. “Will it pain you?”

  “It will shame me.”

  He rolled his eyes so forcefully, she feared they might stick up in his head.

  “By the saints, Anne,” he said, sounding mightily annoyed, “it matters not to me. Is there nothing I can do to convince you of that?”

  She smiled. “I vow you just did.” She took a pace backward and gave him a little wave. “I’m off to encounter handsome, dangerous strangers.”

  He grunted and folded his arms over his chest. Anne turned and began to walk north. The sand here was smooth and fine. If it hadn’t been so bitterly cold from the sea air, she would have taken off her boots. A pity there was no sun, else the sand might have been warm. She looked up into the gray sky, heavy with clouds, and wondered if she might get a soaking before the day was through.

  She heard the thunder of horses’ hooves and turned to see Robin coming toward her with her mount trailing behind him. He gave her a wide berth, then swung his beasts around, stopped them, and dropped to the ground. He strode toward her and stopped a pace or two away.

  And Anne wondered what she would have done had she not known him. Likely dropped to the sand in a swoon.

  The wind blew his dark hair away from his face, leaving his rugged features fully revealed. His eyes were the color of the clouds. She was certain she had never seen a more handsome man, and she had certainly seen an enormous number of men over the course of her years.

  And then he smiled gravely and made her a low bow.

  “Fairest lady, I saw you walking along the shore and I trow my heart stopped within me, my mind seized upon your loveliness as if upon an elusive dream, and I could do nothing but stop and plead for your name that I might ever carry it in my heart.”

  He blinked, then a look of complete consternation came over his features, as if he could scarce believe the words
had come from his mouth. “By the saints,” he said in amazement, “I’ve been corrupted by peacocks!”

  Anne laughed before she could stop herself.

  He scowled. “Ah, a saucy wench, I see. Mayhap you do not realize who you are laughing at.”

  “Doubtless I don’t,” she said, managing to reduce her mirth to a mere smile. “Though you look passing fierce.”

  “And you look passing fair,” he returned. He looked her over, then frowned. “You’ve a hitch in your step, I see.”

  She didn’t let her smile falter, though it was not easily done. “Aye.”

  “An old battle wound?”

  “You could call it that.”

  He grunted. “Have them myself. Perhaps later we’ll compare them. For now, I think I should acquaint you with my own sweet self, so you can see if I’m to your liking.”

  She listened to him dismiss her leg, and wondered if it might be just as easy for her to do the like herself. And why not? There was little she could do to change it.

  Or to change the past, she realized with a start.

  Perhaps Robin had matters aright. Could they not leave the painful things behind and begin afresh? If he could overlook her flaw, could she not overlook his foolishness?

  She suspected she could.

  She slipped her hands up the opposite sleeves of her cloak and waited patiently for Robin to begin his game.

  “Robin de Piaget at your service,” he said with a little bow. “Handy with a blade, not handy with the lute, and perfectly incapable of rendering a decent rhyme.”

  She laughed softly. “Indeed.”

  “And I don’t dance. Well,” he amended, “not very well.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Aye,” he said. “But I’ve several good points you might be interested in.”

  “Then, by all means, trot them out and let me have a look at them.”

  “Well,” he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully, “I’ve a pair of lovely gray eyes.”

  “You do indeed.”

  “I’m reasonable—”

  “Are you?”

  “Tolerant,” he continued archly, “kind to a fault and ever pleasant to all.”

  “That is quite a list of virtues,” she remarked.

  “I’ve only begun. Let me know if the list grows too long for you and I’ll fetch you a seat.”