One Winter Knight

by Townsend, Lindsay

  “Couldn’t ask for a better man. Now, this next matter… ’Tis unusual. I am to grant you in marriage any lady you desire, so long as she accepts your offer.”

  Caterina’s ears pricked up, but her eyes remained on the floor.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Do you have a lady in mind?”

  “I do, my lord.”

  “Have you asked her yet?”

  Caterina’s mouth went dry. She glanced over at Rosamund, who stood up straighter, a smug grin on her face. Caterina watched as others turned in Rosamund’s direction.

  Silence filled the room, until Caterina thought she’d scream. At last, Hugh spoke. “I have not asked her yet, my lord.”

  “Please end this suspense. Who would you take as wife?” The sound of the earl’s commanding voice made her heart stop.

  Oh, I cannot bear this.

  Hugh cleared his throat. “I thought I would’ve had a chance to do this in private. But I have not had the opportunity.”

  The earl shifted in his chair, impatiently. “Is the lady present now?”

  “She is.”

  “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  “If she will have me, I’d take Caterina Glanville to be my wife.”

  A collective gasp of surprise went up. Caterina could feel the heat in her face. She dared look a moment at Hugh, who watched her with an intent look on his face. Sir John slapped his back, grinning broadly. Lady Eleanor clapped her hands together in joy. Rosamund looked venomous.

  The earl puffed up his cheeks and let out a blast of air, clearly disappointed. “Very well. Caterina Glanville do you accept Sir Hugh as husband?”

  Everyone turned toward her. Silence shrouded the room.

  Caterina swallowed a lump of pain lodged in her throat. “Nay. I do not.”

  With that, she turned and fled the room.

  ****

  Like a man who’d taken a blow from a mace to the helmet, Hugh stood swaying on the spot, his mind spinning. He watched his beloved race out of the room with a swish of skirts.

  “Well, that was unexpected. I am sorry, Sir Hugh. Do you have a second choice?” asked the earl with sympathy in his voice.

  “Nay, there is no other choice. Caterina is the only one. I beg your leave. I must go after her.”

  The earl waved him on. “Good luck to ye.”

  Putting one foot in front of the other, Hugh crossed the room with a semblance of dignity. Heads bent together, whispering on all sides of him as the crowd parted to let him through. This is what the sting of rejection feels like. I am naught but a pile of sticks.

  When he had the room full of people behind his back, Hugh broke into a run.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Cat!”

  So, he’d come after her. That surprised her. She imagined him too proud. She turned around in a circle looking for escape. With the return of the earl and the rest of the knights and soldiers and Christmas on the morrow, there was not a quiet corner in the castle. The turret again? When she heard his footfalls close on her heels, she knew that avenue of escape had passed.

  She felt his hand on her shoulder and heard his labored breathing. “Cat, talk to me.”

  She spun around to face him. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “At least do me the favor of telling me why you reject my hand in marriage,” he said, pulling her into the Hall with a tight grip on her arm.

  Servants preparing the room for Christmas Eve dinner filled the room with noise and excitement. The Yule log crackling and the boughs of greenery provided a festive backdrop out of sorts with this sorry exchange between herself and the knight.

  Hugh, still with an unbreakable hold on her, pulled her into a corner. Even then, prying eyes searched them. Hugh spun her around to face him. He breathed hard through his nose, his eyes glassy with emotion. “Where were you today? I looked for you when they brought in the Yule log. I could not find you, and I wanted to share the moment with you.”

  “I saw it from the turret.”

  A cloud of confusion passed over his face. “What were you doing up there?”

  “I needed to be alone, and there’s nowhere in this bloody castle—”

  “Why did you want to be alone? Your eyes are red. You’ve been crying. What’s happened since last night?”

  Caterina looked away. He cupped her cheek and brought her face around. “Cat, talk to me. Tell me what I’ve done to make you reject me? Is it that I can’t offer you what you want? Because, let me point out that, to have you, I’ve passed over a more desirable union.”

  She tried to pull away from him and kept her voice low. “Mayhap you better go back to Rosamund if you think she’s more desirable.”

  “I don’t mean that. I would have wealth and title. In only that way can she be seen as more desirable. In every other way a man desires a woman, I want you as a wife. Why do you shut me out?”

  “You toyed with me to get Rosamund’s attention. You made love to me, and all the while you planned to marry her. And everyone knew that except me.”

  “Gossip? If you listen to nonsense and base your decision on the hollow words of others without hearing my side of it, you do us both a great disservice.”

  “Tell your side, then. Tell me how you didn’t use me. Explain to me how your treatment of me doesn’t go against your code of honor. I thought, above all, else a knight is to show gallantry to women. You may be brave in battle, but you are not chivalrous, Sir Hugh.”

  A look of anguish crossed his face. “You struck me there, and you’re right. But hear me out. I did start out with a plan to win Rosamund, but when I made love to you, I was true in that. I lay awake all night thinking on the consequences of the choice I would make today. I knew I’d be condemning myself to be naught more than a knight. I wondered if letting my heart rule my head was the right thing to do.”

  “So full of doubts. How could I enter a marriage with a man who already wonders if he’s making a mistake? Who speaks of ‘condemning himself’ by choosing me?”

  “Nay, listen to me! I have no choice, because I love you. There is no other choice! This morning when I thought we were under attack and I couldn’t find you…” He stopped and rested his forehead against hers, his chest heaving. “I knew for certain being separated from you would be unbearable, and no amount of wealth would soothe that wound.”

  His voice had risen and others had gathered, watching them. “Caterina...Cat, look at the Yule log and remember what it represents. All past wrongs are up the flue. Time to start anew. I’ve been wrong and arrogant—a fool. I see that now. Marry me.”

  “Nay. This is talk fed by passion. In time, when cool reason takes over, you will find you’ve made a bad bargain to take me over Rosamund, and I couldn’t bear it. I love you too much to be the cause of you getting less than you seek.”

  A light of hope flashed in his eyes, and she knew she’d regret giving him a window into her feelings. Hugh took her hand and dragged her to another part of the Hall, which had now filled with the earl and his retinue, observing them.

  Hugh pulled her to him and came to a stop. “Look up.” Caterina’s eyes drifted upward to the ball of greenery suspended above her head. “A lady cannot refuse a kiss offered under the mistletoe. Let me remind you of what we have. Passion, yes, but more. If you still refuse me afterward, I’ll let you go—though I will die.”

  He took her in his embrace and laid his lips on hers. Resistance dissolved against the force between them. Caterina threw her arms around him and kissed him back, overcome with love.

  After a time, he pulled his face away. “That is what we have. That is us. Caterina…will you spend your life with me into my Chair Days?”

  The earl clapped his hands. “It looks like we’ll have a wedding, after all! What day? How about Wednesday? The duke will be here. We can have a grand celebration.”

  Hugh looked into her eyes, searching.

  “Nay,” she answered.

  A collective groa
n on behalf of Sir Hugh echoed in the Hall. Hugh’s arms fell away from her and he looked at a spot over her head, running his hand over his beard. “So be it, Cat. I cannot force you to marry me.”

  “Wednesday is the twenty-eighth of December. ’Tis Holy Innocents’ Day. Everyone knows ’tis bad luck to marry on that day,” she said.

  “She’s right. ’Tis an ill-omened day to wed,” spoke up Lady Eleanor. “Besides, my lord, in your haste to include the duke, you forget the banns have to be posted. Wednesday is too soon.”

  “Of course, you’re right, my love,” said the earl, patting his wife’s cheek.

  Hugh pulled her face back to him. “Do you mean you will marry me on another day?”

  Caterina grazed the whiskers on his cheeks with her knuckles. “I will marry you any other day except Wednesday. I will see you to your Chair Days, my knight.”

  Hugh’s body sagged with relief and he took her in his arms. Before she melted into his embrace, Caterina thought she saw his eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ve never known such love. I am consumed by it to the point I cannot eat or sleep. I’m grateful—”

  The earl clapped his hands a second time, even louder. “It’s on, then! I will send messengers to both your fathers to tell them of the nuptials. We must post the banns at the church.”

  At the word “fathers”, Caterina snapped her head back. “But…my father has little to give you for a dowry.”

  Hugh smiled and put his cheek against hers. “Tell him I want a chair. That’s all I want.”

  She pulled away. “A chair?”

  “It has some meaning to me,” he said, glancing over at Sir John.

  “Do you think I am worth only a chair?”

  “I think you are valuable beyond measure. Not your father—nor any man—can pay me what you’re worth, my treasure.”

  “But my father can do better than a chair,” she persisted.

  He sighed. “Are you going to be one of those quarrelsome wives? So be it. Honey is all the sweeter after a taste of vinegar,” he said, surprising her by squeezing her bottom. “But this is one argument I will win. I grew up in splendor. I’ve traveled far and wide and seen all manner of riches. I thought I wanted more, but now I know if I have you, I have true wealth.” He bent to kiss her, and she leaned her face up ready to receive it. But he stood back. “But, wait. Will you be content to be married to a mere knight in his modest house?”

  She wanted to disappear into those green eyes forever. “’Tis the life I’m best suited to. And you? Will you be content to be a mere knight?”

  “I was a king for one day, once. ’Twas fun, but I’m meant to be a knight. ’Tis what I’m good at. The house does have a nice solar and Hall…and even stained glass in the chapel, so I hear,” he said with the most delightful twinkle in his eyes.

  “But before you settle for only a chair, shouldn’t you see what else we need?”

  He waved his hand in the air. “Are we still discussing this chair? Listen, I’ll get you any furnishings you want. For my part, I only require a sturdy bed.”

  The earl spoke up. “Oh, ’tis sturdy! I assure you.” Lady Eleanor swatted his arm, playfully.

  Caterina sidled up against Hugh. “I wonder when you’re going to kiss me?”

  “And I wonder when you’re going to tell me properly that you love me?”

  She let out a throaty laugh she didn’t know she possessed. “Hugh De Lacy, I love you.”

  “Then you have earned your kiss, milady.” He pulled her in tight with hands either side of her face and dropped his mouth down to hers in a kiss already deepening with passion and love. She closed her eyes vowing to give herself body and soul to this man. The musicians started up a tune. The assembled people clapped and shouted out.

  When they broke their kiss, Hugh picked her up off the ground and twirled her around in time to the drum and pipes. Caterina threw her head back and watched the Great Hall fly by. The Yule log, blazing merrily. The boughs of holly and ivy. The nativity scene. The pomanders, smelling sweetly. Her hat rolling on the ground. Oh! The crowd cheering them on. Sir John dancing with...Agnes! The smell of roasting meat. Meat. The ball of mistletoe overhead... And the arms of her true love holding her tightly…forever.

  About the Author—Patti Sherry-Crews

  Patti Sherry-Crews lives in Evanston IL with her husband, two children, one good cat, and one bad dog. She studied anthropology at Grinnell College and archaeology in Wales for a year. After college, she owned an Irish and British import store for fifteen years.

  Her favorite toy when she was little was a bag of horses and cowboys—turns out she still likes to play with them on her laptop. In addition to having cowboys, outlaws, and the women who love them roaming around her head, she gets a visit once in a while from a knight in shining armor.

  Patti’s website: http://pattisherrycrews16.wix.com/author-blog

  Capture Her Heart

  Cynthia Breeding

  She had no idea her captor would capture her heart.

  Chapter One

  She shouldn’t—she should not—want to be kissed by the man who had abducted her at sword point. No eighteenth century lady should admit to wanting to be pressed up against a man’s body, especially one as rock hard as his. An image of his face with its high cheekbones, straight nose and chiseled jaw flitted through her traitorous mind. Sensual lips, far too full to be ignored, long dark hair that curled against the collar of his white shirt, and mesmerizing eyes, golden with flecks of brown, all reminded her of the wild wolf that stalked her father’s forests, often bringing down a fleet-of-foot hind.

  Kaitlin Coltan tugged at the silken scarves that bound her wrists to the poster bed, holding her captive. Her ears strained for the sound of human movement, but all she could hear was the creaking of the wooden hull as the ship pitched in heavy seas and plunged into deep troughs. They must be in the treacherous waters of the Inner Hebrides, judging from the violent rolling of the frigate. Where was the stranger taking her? And why? Who was the handsome rogue, anyway?

  She stopped struggling for a moment and closed her eyes. Her mother had been right. If she had not insisted on accompanying her father on his diplomatic mission to Alclud, less than a fortnight before Christmas, she would be safe at home now in Gwynedd. But Kaitlin didn’t like playing things safe. Four rowdy, older brothers hardly left her a coddled female. Her soul was as wild as the rugged terrain of Wales. How many times had she been warned that ladies did not go riding astride, and certainly not with only a minimal bodyguard? But had she listened?

  Still, her riding along the coast of the Highlands on an overcast December day didn’t account for the band of brigands that had appeared suddenly from behind boulders and subdued her guards. Before she knew what was happening, she was pulled off her horse by a tall, powerfully built warrior and tossed on his horse as lightly as though she were a sack of feathers. When he vaulted up behind her and put his arms around her, pressing her body back against his, she realized this man was solid muscle—all over.

  Something very, very hard pressed against her backside, causing a strange sensation between her thighs. In all of her twenty years, she’d not known a man could feel like that. She’d thought about it, of course. After all, she was of marriageable age. The horse’s rocking canter did nothing to alleviate the pressure; it only made it worse, first breaking the contact and then having that slamming against her again.

  By the time they’d slipped and slid down the cliffs to where the frigate was moored, the area between her legs was moist and tingling with an aching need. Just what that need was, she wasn’t sure.

  The door creaked and Kaitlin’s eyes flew open. His huge frame filled the doorway. Silently, she watched as he approached and sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough for her to inhale the scent of him. Sea salt mixed with a heady spice and leather. “Who are you?” she asked, and hoped her voice didn’t shake.

  “Adair MacDouglas,”
he answered, and curled a strand of her blonde hair around his finger. “Ye’re verra pretty.”

  Kaitlin inhaled sharply. The man’s deep Scottish burr sounded like the throaty, rumbling growl of that legendary wolf. She’d heard it once, right after the lobo had finished feasting on a small boar. She wondered briefly if she was to be this man’s prey. She was totally at his mercy with her hands tied. The thought of that sensual mouth pressed against hers, those strong hands and supple fingers stroking her, pressing her breasts against his chest made her tremble. I’m his captive, remember? Ah, yes, the naughty voice inside her head that she had been told over and over was sinful, answered. But look at his body; what could he do to you that would be bad?

  She looked up to find he was watching her with an amused look on his face. Damn. Whoops. Mama had told her not to swear. Too late. He couldn’t read her mind, could he? “Why have you abducted me? You do not even know who I am!”

  A dark eyebrow went up. “Ye’re Lady Kaitlin Coltan, come with your father and brother to visit the laird of Alclud.”

  So…she wasn’t anonymous. “If it is ransom you are wanting, why have we put out to sea?” she asked. “My father will be more than willing to pay you.”

  “Ah, lass, it’s nae his money that I’m wantin’.”

  “What, then?”

  For a moment he was silent, and then that beautiful burr purred again. “Two nights ago, my wee sister, barely come a woman, was raped and left for dead near the laird’s keep.”

  Kaitlin frowned. “I am sorry. What does that have to do with me?”

  He leveled those golden, predatory eyes on her. “’Twas your brother and his friends that did the foul deed.”

  She gasped. Her brother, Broderick, had a wild streak in him, but surely he wasn’t capable of that. All of her brothers were a bit untamed, but she’d never known one of them to deliberately harm a young girl. In fact, they kept her far too protected from any handsome swains that might pay court—which was part of the reason she had such an overactive imagination. “You must be mistaken.”