Five Golden Rings: A Christmas Collection

by Sophie Barnes

  Nia studied the ring in her fingers, still feeling the warmth from his hands in the metal. Was he serious? Did he really hope to impress Serena, who wouldn’t leave her antechamber for breakfast without wearing a treasure of gems around her neck, with such a rushed piece?

  “I am very sorry to say you’ll likely draw my father’s ire with this present before you will his approval. And as for Serena, well—”

  “Perfect.” Caerwyn’s lips drew in a real smile, devilish and dangerous. He cupped her hand in both of his with the ring wrapped in her fist. Warmth poured through her to be held by him and to be the apparent source of his pleasure. “I’ve made one for you both.”

  “I knew it!” She smiled, though sadness swept her. “You’re here to plead your suit to my father like the others, but you don’t want to marry either of us.”

  Releasing Nia, Caerwyn slid the ring from her hand and tucked it somewhere inside his clothes. His expression turned suddenly somber, and he regarded her through hard eyes again. “Why should I? Marrying either of you would offer naught but a lifetime of misery.”

  She deserved that, but sudden tears stung her eyes. She glanced sharply over her shoulder, collecting her emotions. When she trusted herself not to crumble, she said, “I think you’ll find I’m not the same girl you knew.”

  “Neither am I the same boy.” Caerwyn reached to unfasten his apron. Tossing a coin and a nod to Henri, he strode around the table. “I’ll see you back safely, my lady.”

  Walking the darkened alleyway side by side, Nia watched Caerwyn from the corner of her eye as he pulled his blue tunic on over his sleeveless garment.

  It was true; she didn’t know him anymore. He’d grown at least a foot and had hardened into a colder, more serious man. Nothing like the cheerful youth he’d been.

  “Nia,” he said in a more gentle voice, “I do not mean to wound you. I am sure you will make someone a good wife. But I am not for you. Nor am I for”—he paused to hiss with distaste—“Serena. When I’m ready to take a wife, she will be a woman of the highest character. Responsible. Trustworthy. Loyal.”

  “But I am all those things.” She shook her head, fighting her frustration. He didn’t know her. He’d been gone, missing how she’d taken charge of Walwyn. How she tended to the needs of the castle villeins, the guards, and the servants. She chose the crops and oversaw their rotation. She’d predicted the early winter, the early harvest, and a pestilence that would’ve starved them all had she not ordered precautions. She’d learned to ride, to hunt, and shoot whilst all the men were battling the Saracens in the east. And she, not her father, kept Serena from trouble. “I know I took a risk going riding this morning, but the woods have been safe for years. And I would not knowingly harm anyone for my whims. I am not my sister.”

  Caerwyn rubbed his temple with his thumb, and spoke quietly. “Then someone will be very pleased to wed you, indeed.”

  Her face heated. Mortified at her display of emotion, she jerked her hood up and cast him an angry glare. “If you’re not here to get a wife, then why did you come?”

  He drew a ragged breath, turning his face to the darkening sky as if he’d wondered the same thing. “For certes, our fathers have been in correspondence. Your sire issued the invitation when he heard Padrig and I had returned—mayhap because our land borders his or because he didn’t want to slight us. But,” he paused, kicking at a stob of weeds in the road, and continued, “I didn’t come for your sire. I wanted to accompany Padrig, and . . . it was my father’s final wish. Our father is dead.”

  “I’m sorry.” Nia hung her head, stung to hear the sadness in his voice and unable to offer him any consolation. She felt shamed beyond all redemption by her actions in the past.

  The deception she’d undertaken with Serena’s help had been a snare to try to win Caerwyn, but it had only succeeded in casting him away from her forever.

  CAERWYN CONSIDERED NIA’S words as he lingered over his trencher of uneaten meat. Her claim that she’d changed echoed in his mind. She sat at the far end of the baron’s table in the shadows. She’d been the last to sit after making sure her sister was safely ensconced between the baron and Padrig, away from the advances of other suitors. Knowing flirtatious Serena, she’d have the nearest knight betwixt her legs as soon as the meal was over. ’Twas her way. Nia’s too, or so he’d thought.

  Unless he’d been deceived, she was even less interested in choosing a match than he was. Caerwyn sat at one of the long tables below the family dais, along with Maddoc de Guildo, and watched Nia’s every movement. Maddoc had attempted to catch Nia’s eye as she’d passed, but the girl would have none of him. Caerwyn recalled where he’d met the knight before—at a tourney in Walwyn days before he’d left Wales.

  He pushed his food away.

  “You don’t like the baron’s food?” Michael de Chaucy, a knight and companion of Maddoc’s, leaned close enough to Caerwyn he could smell the wine on his breath, then grabbed a piece of greasy meat from Caerwyn’s trencher.

  “ ’Tis not that. I am not hungry.” Caerwyn dropped a hand over the pouch on the table and slid it into his lap. The sack held the two silver rings along with his mother’s for safekeeping while he’d bathed, and he’d not risk his drunken neighbor snatching the jewelry, as well, while he wasn’t looking.

  Maddoc, having overheard, chuckled and flexed his back. “A man wanting to marry one of the baron’s daughters would take better care not to insult his kitchen. I see your brother is in no danger of that.”

  Caerwyn’s gaze snapped to Padrig. His little brother’s cheeks bulged as he chewed, smiling, and he took a bite of a roasted drumstick held in Serena’s hand. The mischievous blonde had him enthralled as she pressed her bosom against his arm. At his age, Padrig wouldn’t be prepared for a woman of her experience and caprice.

  Caerwyn shoved away from the bench and stood.

  The other men at his table laughed harder, but as he rounded the corner, headed in the direction of the dais with his sack of gifts in hand, he noted with smug satisfaction that Maddoc had stopped laughing.

  The baron glanced up as Caerwyn’s shadow fell over him. Serena, too. A small frown creased her pretty brow beneath an elaborate golden circlet in her hair. She wore the fine kirtle Padrig had brought, rich red trimmed with gold, while Nia wore an emerald one. Though his brother wasn’t much of a man for making conversation, Caerwyn had always been envious of his thoughtfulness. He gripped the bag of rings behind his back.

  “Ah, you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence, milord.” Lady Serena eased away from Padrig and directed an inviting smile at Caerwyn.

  Guy de Brionne, a trained Marcher lord with a warlike disposition and a cunning mind, acknowledged him with a slight nod of his grizzled head. “Very good of you to come, Sir Caerwyn. How do you fare this evening? I’ve not heard much from your table.”

  “My mind is still in Acre. It has been a long time since Padrig and I have been entertained with good food and company. As I’m sure you’d understand, my recent stories and conversation would cause discomfort in others.”

  “Aye. The Crusades are not a topic I trust myself to speak of in front of my daughters. Would you care to join us at our table on the dais?”

  “Please do, Sir Caerwyn. Padrig won’t mind moving down for his brother, surely.” Serena turned her head, scowling down the length of the table at her sister. “Nia should have seated you here. You are our neighbor, after all.”

  Caerwyn waved a hand, declining Lady Serena’s suggestion, and smiled. “You’re both too kind. Nay, Lady Nia chose our seating arrangement satisfactorily. Besides, how else was I to survey my competition?”

  Caerwyn indulged himself with a glance at Nia. She held her bottom lip between her teeth, her bright eyes suddenly anxious. He longed to watch her more but couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  “I trust you’ll be the envy of every nobleman at court when you don the suit of armor our talented metalsmith is creating for the w
inner.” Serena’s gaze inched over Caerwyn as if imaging him in a very different suit. She purred, “His work is unparalleled. Of course, you must stay with us as long as it takes for the armor to be completed. For the measurements, the fittings. Henri will not mind more trips to Walwyn.”

  “There are several equally capable opponents, my lady. I would not presume—”

  “I do hope you and your brother will accept my apologies,” the baron broke in, saving Caerwyn from further humiliation, “for sending the invitation and hosting this gathering at what must be the gravest of times for you and everyone of Rhiwdinas.”

  “Aye, but our father always spoke highly of you, my lord. On his deathbed, he expressed his wish for us to continue our friendship with Walwyn.” Behind his back, Caerwyn drew the string on the bag and reached inside to handle the contents—two rough bands and the other, more elegant piece. He cleared his throat. “I fear I am the last knight to offer presents to the ladies this Christmastide.”

  Guy made a wave of dismissal. “Gifts are not required at such a time. The eleven knights before you have plied my daughters with more than enough.”

  “Nevertheless, I have a gift for each of them.”

  Caerwyn presented the first silver band to Serena with a sweeping bow. “My lady.”

  Her dazzling smile crumbled as she studied the silver circle cradled in her hand. When she tore her eyes from the object, she looked up at Caerwyn with an unsteady gaze. “Well. A ring. Thank you.”

  He couldn’t help thinking that his coarse handiwork matched its new owner’s morals: rushed and crude.

  Caerwyn’s boots thumped along the wooden dais as he walked to Nia. He felt the stares of the other knights and guests as he stopped in front of her. Perhaps they remembered the last time he’d visited and his hasty departure at finding her with another lover.

  As he stood over her, her fingers played around the edge of her goblet, and he thought she even trembled. Then she surprised him with a smile so darling and playful, he felt all the air leave his lungs.

  The shadows had kept her loveliness hidden from him most of the night, but seeing her now, so close, he cursed himself for not taking a seat beside her. Amazingly, she’d grown more desirable than he remembered. Though not the painted beauty Serena was, Nia had natural charm. Her eyes flashed with wit, and her fair skin betrayed her every emotion. Caerwyn was certain he could bring her flesh to a brilliant rose with the lightest touch of his hand in the right spot.

  “Do you have something for me, my lord?” She blinked up at him, knocking him out of his fantasy.

  Her chin wobbled, no doubt trying to keep from laughing. She was prepared for the ugly ring he’d made. She expected it, accepting that she wouldn’t have to marry him. Caerwyn reached in the sack and fumbled past his mother’s ring for the band.

  Eleven other knights. One of them Padrig, one the hotheaded Maddoc, and another mayhap the drunken oaf from his table. What of the others? Were they equally as unappealing? Guy de Brionne would force the girls to choose. Which man would Nia want?

  What do you care? Whoever married Nia would have to worry about her tumbling into another man’s bed. Not you.

  But a person could change. He’d seen proof of that in the men who went to Jerusalem. In himself. Mayhap Nia was right.

  He pulled out the ring, handed it to her, and stalked away, determined not to wait for her reaction, which would tell him if he’d made the right choice.

  Or the wrong one.

  Chapter Three

  THE DOOR TO the stables was open when Nia arrived. Yellow firelight flickered within, and her stomach twitched with excitement. She paused, gathering her thoughts, imagining what she ought to say first. A half hour earlier she’d been pacing the floor of her bedchamber, unable to sleep for wanting to talk to Caerwyn, then a knock at the door had ended her torture. One of the local boys with a familiar face and name she couldn’t recall had come from the barracks with a message that Caerwyn wanted to meet. The stables were an odd place to talk, but he knew she had loved to ride as a child. Mayhap he wanted to take a quick trip in the moonlight. Besides, where else could they be alone at night? And she had so many questions to ask.

  He’d given her a ring of value—a lovely, true treasure. Could he have changed his mind about her?

  She knocked on the door. “Caerwyn?”

  No answer. She went inside and noted that the sconces set beside the entrance were unlit. She followed the source of the light to find a small fire coming from one of the horse stalls. Her own horse’s, Merlin’s!

  The stall was open a crack, smoke spilling out from inside. She pushed the door back.

  “Merlin?”

  The black gelding had backed into the corner. The fire was near the door, flames licking at the wall and spreading through the rushes.

  “Hold on, dear,” she murmured low, trying to calm him despite the panic gripping her. Smoke burned in her throat, and she coughed into her fist. Shielding the heat from her face with only her hands, she surged forward to avoid the flames, but they were too high. She stumbled backward, away from the thick smoke. Without her father’s groomsmen, she had no idea where to find a bucket, but she would have to try. The horse had been hers for years. And if the fire wasn’t put out immediately, the roof would cave in, the entire building would be destroyed in minutes, and all the animals killed.

  Nia hurried to the wall where hooks held bridles, spurs, and harnesses. Against another wall stood a storage trunk. She threw the lid open, searching for a water vessel, and found a stack of blankets. She snatched one and whirled around.

  “Lady Nia.” Maddoc appeared in the doorway, his eyes round in the firelight. “I received a missive you were looking for me. What—”

  “Merlin’s stall is on fire!” she called as she ran, unfolding the blanket.

  Back in the stall, she hurled the fabric over the flames, smothering the majority of the fire in the rushes. Maddoc ran inside after her, cursing at the sight, and together they began stomping out the tiny glowing straws. Maddened with fear, Merlin whinnied and reared over Nia. Too late, she realized she’d gotten too close to the frantic horse.

  Maddoc grabbed her and pulled her out of the way as Merlin’s hooves came flying down.

  Cupping Nia’s face in his hands, he said, “Come outside. I know where to get water. Just stay away from the animal.”

  Nia nodded reluctantly and followed him outside. There were still flames climbing the wall of Merlin’s stall. Still time for more damage.

  Maddoc left the building and came back in a flash, carrying a bucket brimming with water. Nia followed him to the source and found another bucket. After two more trips, they had the fire out and led Merlin safely to another stall.

  Finding the stables unbearable with the stench of smoke, she led Maddoc to the hay barn to rest. They sat side by side on a pile of clean hay, waiting while Maddoc’s tunic dried. Had he not been helping her, she would’ve believed he’d taken his garment off on purpose for a chance to flex his muscles. But that thought was unkind. He’d done naught wrong. If she should think ill of anyone, let it be Caerwyn, who’d promised to meet at the stables but failed to appear.

  Sitting in an entirely unladylike manner, Nia leaned on her knees and played with the pretty gold ring on her finger. The piece took her breath away from the first moment she’d laid eyes on it.

  Could it be that he’d given it to her by accident?

  Oh, God, if he had! The idea sickened her. Returning it would break her heart. She’d never beheld a gift more dear.

  The gold formed a rose shape with a brilliant emerald in the center. It fit perfectly, but after the fire and the heat from her panic, her finger had swollen. The ring wouldn’t budge.

  “Would you like me to help you take it off?”

  Maddoc caressed her arm, and kindness shone in his blue eyes.

  “Nay. But thank you for the offer. It will come off when I bathe.”

  He grinned and leaned so close
his shaggy gold hair brushed her arm. “I could help you bathe, too.”

  Nia frowned at him. “Nay.”

  The only man she wanted seeing her naked was Caerwyn. And they nearly had been naked that day they’d shared their first kiss—the first of many, lying beneath the orchard trees. Their hands roving over each other’s young bodies, sweet touches and loving whispers.

  “What do you think happened, Nia?”

  She glanced at the knight, having nearly forgotten him as she was lost in memories of Caerwyn’s tender caresses. She found her voice, “It seems almost as if someone is trying to harm me. But it doesn’t make sense. First the brigands, who were probably robbers traveling through our woods from afar. Then earlier today, I thought someone was following me in the market. Now Merlin’s stall—”

  “Bastards. Mayhap you, or your sire, have an enemy. You know, if you were betrothed to me, no one would dare attempt to harm you.”

  She caressed the stone of her ring. How sad that anyone would want to harm a horse—or her, for that matter. If someone asked her for money, she would gladly give it.

  Maddoc captured her ringed fingers and brought them to his lips. “Your finger will turn blue if you don’t allow me to remove the ring. Here, I know a trick.”

  Nia shook her head, smiling, and braced herself for a tugging contest between the knight and her fingers. Instead, he brought her hand to his lips and opened his mouth to draw her ring finger inside. Nia heard herself gasp as his hot wet mouth closed around the ring. His tongue swirled around her finger, sending her into a panic to rival Merlin’s. If only he was Caerwyn, but he wasn’t!

  She shoved at his shoulder. “Stop that! Get off!”

  He suckled her finger, making a mewling noise that made her stomach roll.

  “Maddoc, STOP!” Even if he severed her finger with his teeth, it would be worth getting him off the digit.