One Winter Knight

by Townsend, Lindsay

  “I’m back with a missive from the king concerning that question to deliver into the earl’s hands.”

  John frowned. “Tough luck, the earl got caught up in a skirmish near the Welsh border.”

  “So I gather. Trouble brewing in Wales. I don’t envy the man who has to take that brood on. They fight dirty, the Welsh.” He listened to the sound of the practice swords hitting the pell, crisp in the winter air.

  “I expect King Edward will be in it soon, and he’ll want you by his side.”

  Hugh nodded as he led John back inside the castle. “Oh, yea, that day may come, but right now my liege has plans for me other than being in the sights of a Welsh longbow.”

  “What mean you?”

  Hugh tapped his friend on the chest with the rolls of parchment he’d been carrying. “I hold here a land grant. Edward has bestowed on me the fiefdom that belonged to a knight who died without heir. I’ll serve the earl.”

  “Well done. I heard about your prowess on the field at Acre. Many a man owe their life to you, way I hear it. Time to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

  “Which brings me to the other part of my mission. I need your assistance in a matter.”

  “Hugh, you know I’d do anything I can for you. Only speak the word.”

  “I need to find a wife. I’ve been away near two years. You’ve been here and know where lie the best prospects.”

  “What are you looking for in a wife?”

  “A big dowry. That’s my first consideration. The rest doesn’t matter.”

  John barked out a laugh and shook his head. “So mercenary! I remember a time you played well in the game of love. I can’t imagine you settling for less than you desire for the sake of money.”

  “The foreign battles drained me. I need to fill my coffers, and if I gain a title, all the better. I like the sound of Lord Hugh better than Sir Hugh. Who is the most eligible lady around? And I don’t care if she’s a young maid or a mature widow.”

  “Do you like them fair or dark?”

  “She can have green hair for all I care...But I’ve seen enough dark women recently. I wouldn’t mind a fair English rose.”

  “An easy answer, then. Rosamund Hawley. Her father is a wealthy baron and she is his only living issue—she’s comely, too. Hair as light as a moonbeam.”

  Hugh waved his hand in the air. “Fine. She’s the one.”

  “Not so fast. She’s rather cold and exceedingly pious. I don’t think you’d find much comfort in her arms.”

  “I’d find my comfort elsewhere for that price.”

  “Still, you might be wasting your time with that one.”

  “I assure you I won’t. Just point her out to me.”

  “Why so certain?”

  “I also have in my possession a missive from the king to the earl granting me any woman I want as wife. With the stipulation she accepts me as husband by her choice.”

  “Lucky devil! But, now, here’s the rub. Rosamund has her pick of suitors, but she shows no interest in courtship.”

  “She hasn’t met me yet.” Hugh smiled to himself. No need to boast, but getting women to agree to him never had been a problem.

  As he rounded the corner, a self-satisfied grin on his face, something hit him hard in his chest. Normally, he could have stood his ground, but his bastard bad knee gave way, and Hugh fell with a heavy thud.

  ****

  Caterina bunched her skirts in her fists for fear of tripping as she moved down the corridor less a lady and more an errand boy. Still, she felt her breathing come easier now away from the thorny atmosphere of the solar—though out of the warmth of the fire, as well. She heard the voice of the steward in the Great Hall, already preparing to exit. Caterina, imagining Mercury’s winged feet below her skirt, picked up her pace to a run.

  Around a corner and nearly there, she ran into a pillar of strength and fell on her backside with legs spread wide. Scrolls of parchment skittered across the floor. If she’d not had the wind knocked out of her, she would have cried out in shock—for sitting on the floor in front of her was Hugh De Lacy, surprise written on his face. Sir John stood next to him, his mouth gaping open. Then, after a brief moment of stunned silence, he let out a loud guffaw. An angry scowl replaced the look of shock on the felled knight’s face.

  “Have a care, woman!” Sir Hugh said, as he struggled to his feet.

  He handed her the hat which she’d lost in the fall. With haste, Caterina fit her hat back on to cover her hair. How unseemly!

  A large hand appeared in front of her face, blocking all else from her view. She managed to comprehend through a haze of embarrassment he offered her assistance. Too dizzy to stand, she focused on the blood red stone set in a ring on his hand until she could respond.

  She put her hand in his, and in one quick movement, he’d hoisted her back on her feet.

  “Pray forgive me, Sir Hugh,” she said, as she bent down to retrieve one of the scrolls.

  Their heads cracked when Sir Hugh bent over on the same mission. He stood up straight, rubbing his head. “You have a unique way of greeting a man. But it seems you have me at an unfair advantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

  She studied his boots and the hem of his green tunic as she struggled to find her voice. “Caterina, sir,” she said, feeling her cheeks burning.

  “Look me in the eyes when you speak to me, girl.”

  With reluctance, she raised her eyes. Her gaze traveled up to his strong jaw shadowed by a neatly trimmed beard—shades darker than his hair. Further upward her gaze traveled, to the most beautiful green eyes to ever grace a face. His eyes opened wider when their gazes met, and took on a darker hue. An odd sensation shimmered through her body. Mother is right about eyes inviting lust. Then he blinked a few times, which called her attention to his long, dark lashes.

  Caterina remembered her errand, which had flown out her head along with her hat. She gave a quick courtesy and prepared to take her leave. A hand clamped down hard on her shoulder. Sir Hugh raised one eyebrow and gave her a penetrating look. “Where are you going in such a hurry...Caterina?”

  “I’m on an errand for Lady Eleanor.”

  “Is that errand to knock as many good folk to the ground as possible?”

  “Nay, sir, I must make haste,” she said, hearing the sound of the portcullis in the outer wall creaking open. She panicked, knowing the steward would be heading out of the castle any minute.

  The knight continued to hold her in place, while he searched her eyes. Caterina struggled against him, but she might as well bend an iron bar as wrench free of his grip. His thumb pressed into the tender spot below her collarbone, while his gaze traveled over her face, studying her.

  Catrina tried to shake off his hand. “Unhand me! You detain me.” His full lips quirked up into a lopsided grin. She jabbed an elbow at his side, but missed her mark when he swerved.

  Sir John, cleared his throat. “Let the girl go, Hugh. Toy with the ladies later.”

  Still the hand on her shoulder held firm, his eyes riveted on hers. She glanced down to the heavy sword fixed on a leather belt hanging off his hips. No doubt the strength in his arm came from wielding that weapon—the vision that called to mind made her shudder.

  “I don’t mean to detain you, but my ears still ring from our encounter. I want to make sure you’re unharmed.”

  “I am unharmed, but I will get worse than ringing ears from my lady if you do not let me go!” Caterina pulled hard and almost stumbled again when he lifted his hand with a sudden movement giving her nothing to push against. She gathered up her skirts again and took off at a run. The sounds of laughter in her wake made her burn with fury. The heat from his hand still imprinted on her shoulder.

  Chapter Four

  Caterina plucked a sprig of holly from the basket at her feet and worked the leathery leaves into the wreath in her lap. Completed wreaths and swags of greenery filled the solar, and still baskets of holly and other evergreens, permeati
ng the air with the scent of the forest, waited for the ladies’ attention. Millicent held up a completed ball of mistletoe. “’Tis said a lady cannot refuse a kiss if she stands under the mistletoe. I want to attach one to my headdress and follow Sir Hugh around.”

  Cecily covered her mouth and giggled. “Saucy wench!”

  “He is very handsome,” said Agnes. Cecily and Millicent exchanged glances, making it clear Agnes had no chance with the knight, so her appraisal of him held no weight.

  Catching the look, Agnes averted her eyes and blushed. Agnes was a sweet girl, as low in status as Caterina. The poor thing had a plain face covered in freckles as numerous as stars in the night sky. Caterina winced witnessing her humiliation.

  Lady Eleanor smiled at them all with a dazed expression on her face. “Sir Hugh is all a knight should be. He’s brave and honorable and gallant toward women.”

  “And he is tall and pleasing to look at,” said Millicent.

  Caterina sank back in her seat as the talk turned to the knight. She still stung from their encounter. Caterina closed her eyes and took in a deep breath through her nose, taking in the scent of the apples and oranges studded with spices. Later, she would have the task of dispersing the fragrant pomanders around the Hall after supper.

  Her eyes snapped open when a knock sounded on the door. Alice wiped her nose with the back of her hand before pulling back the curtain and opening the door behind it. In strode the man whose name had been on everyone’s lips moments ago.

  “Sir Hugh!” greeted Lady Eleanor.

  At the mention of his name, Caterina started and pricked herself on the sharp ivy leaf in her hand. A point of bright red blood welled up on her fingertip. She stuck her finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding.

  The tall man strode across the room, every eye trained on him. He walked with a slight limp. She cringed, wondering if she had been the cause of his injury when she knocked him to the ground.

  “Lady Eleanor, how good to find you looking so well. Thank you for giving me an audience.” He bowed and kissed the lady’s hand while looking up at her from lowered lashes.

  In this position, with him leaning over her hand, and Lady Eleanor glowing with pleasure, they could be a scene on one of the panels of the ivory casket, Caterina mused.

  Lady Eleanor blushed like a young girl. “’Tis always my pleasure to welcome you. I’m sorry my husband is away.”

  “I pray he is safe and home by Christmas.”

  The lady nodded in agreement. “Yes, my two sons are with him and in my prayers. Sit down. Caterina, bring Sir Hugh a cup of mulled wine.”

  At the sound of her own name ringing out in the room, Caterina’s stomach lurched. Hugh’s glance slid sideways in her direction where she sat, finger in mouth. She drew the finger out as he watched. The corner of his mouth twitched. She put her basket of greenery on the floor and made her way across the room, every eye now on her.

  Lady Eleanor turned back to Sir High. “Of course, you’re welcome to stay here until my husband returns—or longer. Will you stay the holiday with us?”

  “There is no place I’d rather be. I’d be grateful for your hospitality.”

  Caterina filled a goblet from the jug of wine suffused with spices and honey. Her hands shook, and when she looked up, he had his eyes on her. She turned away from his gaze and took the iron spike out of the hearth, then stuck it in the goblet. The red hot poker sizzled, sending up a sweet smell as the instrument heated the engraved silver goblet in her hand.

  “I’ll have a mattress put in the Hall for you,” said Lady Eleanor.

  “Thank you. ’Tis all I require.”

  With the goblet in her hands, Caterina measured her steps with great care. Without looking up, she could feel the knight’s attention focused on her. She tried to not betray her inner turmoil by willing her hands to stay still. It seemed crossing the room took an eternity, and she could feel malice emanating from the other ladies like the buzzing of bees swarming around her head. She’d made it to within reaching distance of the table when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of scarlet shoot out. Caterina stumbled. In an instant, Hugh bolted out of his chair and had her steadied. Still moving in the near-fall, Caterina stepped on his foot with all her weight. He took in a sharp breath and pulled his foot away.

  “Prithee forgive my clumsiness,” she muttered against the sound of snickering behind her.

  Hugh looked down at the wine stain spreading on his sleeve, then met her eyes with his mouth twisted and reproach in his expression. He appeared on the verge of admonishing her but seemed to think better of it, and pursed his lips together, tight. Embarrassed to almost the point of tears, Caterina turned around to see Cecily sneering at her in triumph, wagging one scarlet shod foot. She bowed, ready to back away to her seat in disgrace.

  “Caterina! Go fetch Sir Hugh another drink. You’ve spilled half of this one,” said Lady Eleanor.

  She saw Sir Hugh steal a glance at the red hot poker resting in the fire and then back to Caterina. “Prithee, don’t go to the trouble. I don’t care for a drink after all.” His sight lit on the bloody smear on Caterina’s finger. He let his eyes rise heavenward.

  “Oh, very well. Tell me, what have you brought me, Sir Hugh?” asked Lady Eleanor, pointing to the rolls of parchment.

  Hugh stopped mopping the stain with a cloth and came to attention. “Ah, yes, the reason for my visit. I have missives from the king I’m to put in the earl’s hands. I know you act in his absence, but mayhap I should wait for his return as his orders were strict.”

  “As you wish, as long as the order doesn’t pertain to an immediate crisis.”

  “Nay, ’tis nothing of that nature. The king has given me the land and manor of Sir Percival. I have the order here—”

  Lady Eleanor waved a hand in the air. “No need to see that. I know the land in question. We’ve stayed at the manor whilst traveling. ’Tis a small house, but well-fortified with many arrow slits. The solar and the Hall are lovely and the chapel even has stained glass windows—unusual, for such a modest home.”

  Caterina saw Hugh’s lips tug upward into what she thought a forced smile.

  Lady Eleanor went on. “We were sorry to hear of that loyal knight’s death. Though, I’m glad you are the recipient of his land. But, you said ‘missives.’ Is there something else?”

  He colored. “Yes, but ’tis of a personal nature. I’d rather wait on that.”

  Understanding dawned on the Lady’s face. “Oh, a personal matter! I think I can guess what that is. Now you have a house and land, you’ll be wanting a wife, next.”

  At that, Hugh’s gaze drifted over the ladies in the room—bypassing Caterina. When Rosamund flicked a long lock of white blonde hair from under her elaborate headdress, he paused and regarded her with narrowed eyes. A slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Rosamund responded with a cool gaze. Caterina’s heart rent in two for the implication was clear. Sir Hugh had an interest in Rosamund. Why she felt bothered over this arrogant man, she didn’t know.

  Chapter Five

  Sir Hugh tossed a morsel of food to the massive hound at his feet. Caterina groaned inwardly in memory. This was the very dog whose leg she’d tripped over entering the Hall for supper. Sir Hugh must have been nearby, because he stopped her fall, but not before her head collided with his nose. There had been a sickening sound of bone on bone, but to her surprise, no blood. He’d put his hand to his nose and pulled it away as if he expected his nose to be bleeding, as well. He’d looked at her and grimaced before walking away without a word and before she could apologize to him—yet again.

  She didn’t want to look at him sitting up there on the dais, but it seemed her eyes had their own intentions this evening, because she repeatedly found Sir Hugh in her sights. And was it her imagination, or did he stare at her, too? Maybe he just looked in her general direction.

  She felt a nudge to the arm. “I said, are you going to eat your share tonight?” Caterina turned t
o see Agnes facing her.

  Caterina picked at the food on the trencher she shared with Agnes. On her half of the wooden plate sat, untouched, pike in a sauce of wine with aromatic spices, eel in green garlic sauce, cooked greens, bread, and a cabbage salad. “Advent food,” she said with a sigh. “What I wouldn’t give for a piece of meat...or cheese. I’ve grown tired of butter and cheese made with almond milk...and fish.”

  She dared to peer over at Sir Hugh. He seemed to be picking at the food on his plate with the same lack of enthusiasm. He reached for the salt and sprinkled it over his trencher, but then he sat back and viewed his supper as if he had to gather the strength to eat it. While she watched, he speared a piece of fish with his knife. He met her gaze as he popped the food in his mouth. He chewed slowly as he regarded her with a fixed expression on his face. Yes, his gaze is directed at me. What means he?

  Feeling flustered, Caterina turned back to her companion. Agnes gave a bright smile. “Cheer up Caterina. The men went hunting today! I hear Sir Hugh killed a great stag, so we’ll have venison.” A servant came around and laid more food on the table. “Oh, look! Baked apples with raisins, my favorite.”

  Caterina looked at the apples as she might study a bowl of ashes. “You can have my share.”

  Agnes looked sideways at her. “You’re in a strange humor this evening. You’re usually so cheerful. You’re not ill, are you?”

  “Nay, I’m not hungry is all.” She sighed and leaned toward Agnes to whisper. “’Tis only I grow weary of living with so many other people. I don’t know who to trust or what anyone means half the time. I’ve never encountered such behavior before with all the secrets and deceits.” Agnes dropped her gaze and nodded.

  Caterina glanced down the table and saw Cecily using her knife to eat. She’d have to steal that back from her before she woke up in the morning. Sensing something, Caterina looked up to once again find herself pinned under Hugh’s gaze. Disconcerted, she shifted her sights upward to the galley perched above the dark wood screen passage leading down to the kitchen. There, servants bearing food and drink moved in and out in a steady stream.