Her eyes flickered opened and she saw his expression was still guarded. “Why? Because I love you. Because I cannot have you leave me again. Ever.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Ever?”
She swallowed and nodded, her whole body tense, hoping he had not had a change of heart. He inhaled sharply, took her hand and kissed it. When he looked up into her eyes she saw that his defences had dropped, that his eyes were warm and melting once more.
“My Lord Bishop,” he called out. “It seems there will be a marriage after all.”
Chapter 11
“… And wilt thou forsake all others on account of him, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
It was as if the Bishop’s sonorous voice came from a distance. It mingled with the rustle of the reeds in the river below them, with the song of the birds and the clatter of a cart being pulled along the rutted road close by.
She was barely aware of the Bishop’s presence, nor of the witnesses they’d brought with them, or of the few curious villagers who gawped over the fence at them. She only had eyes for Guy, whose tawny hair was made more vivid by the bright sunshine that filled the porch of the church. His large hands cradled her own, while his eyes, that were fixed on hers, held a promise of passion to come. For the first time in her life Angelique had a sense of absolute stillness inside her, an absolute certainty about the rightness of their being together.
A buzz of excitement fluttered low in her belly as Guy’s smile broadened, adding to the joy that she could scarcely contain, scarcely believe. He squeezed her hand and raised an eyebrow, a laugh not far away in his eyes. “Are you going to answer the Bishop, my love?”
She was jolted back to the present and, blushing, glanced at the expectant Bishop. “I will. Certainly I will.”
The Bishop nodded regally and the ceremony continued. Angelique tried her best to stop the tears of happiness from flowing but gave up when they exchanged their vows. Guy’s face swam before her as the Bishop blessed them both and proclaimed them husband and wife.
Guy smiled and brought her joint hands to his lips. The kiss was as warm as his eyes and as full of promise. “Come, my Angel, we must follow the Bishop into the church.”
She placed her hand flat against his beating heart and stood on the tips of her toes and whispered into his ear, fully aware of the effect of her proximity and warmth breath would have against his skin. “I would that we were alone now.”
She was rewarded by a brief closing of his eyes which, when they opened again, were darkened with lust. He slipped one arm around her shoulders and they began to walk into the church. “It will soon be over and then we will be free.”
“Free…” She sighed, melting into his arms. “I like the sound of that.”
However it wasn’t until much later, after they’d returned to the castle, and the Bishop had left to catch his ship for France that Angelique was able to escape out onto the marshes. Only Guy had seen her slip out the postern gate and he’d know where she was going.
The sun lay lazily on the horizon, spinning the last of its light across the wet mud, turning the low bushes to fire. A flock of marsh birds swooped and soared in playful formation before alighting on the glistening banks of the creek. She’d always thought such freedom lay beyond her. It had taken Guy to show that it lay within her.
She’d reached the old chapel by the time she realized she was being followed. She smiled to herself as she slipped inside and looked up at the darkening sky through the ruined roof, before turning to the east, where the evening star already shone, about to herald a full moon. Then, without waiting for him, she entered the small nave and curled up on the stone seat, still warm from the sun that had soaked into the ancient stone.
Guy entered the chapel and she looked up and smiled. He came and sat down beside her and brought his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her to him. She closed her eyes and revelled in his strength: a strength that touched her all the more for how his love contained it. He was not driven to prove how strong or how powerful he was, he had nothing to prove except his love for her. And he’d proved that fully.
“So this is where you come when you want to escape. Your game is up, my lady, I now know where to find you.”
“The game was up the day you returned, my lord. I used to come here because it reminded me of you. And now you have robbed me of that purpose.”
She felt his lips upon the top of her head as she relaxed further against his chest.
“What made you change your mind?”
“Something you said; about trust, about who to trust. I remembered when we were children and you lied for me when I stole my mother’s brooch from one of my father’s mistresses. You took a beating because you refused to tell on me.”
“I remember it well.”
“I trusted you then. And I trusted you with my life all those years ago when I was promised to another. But then, somewhere in my marriage, I’d ceased to trust. Anybody.” She tilted her head so that she could see his face. “But I do now. I trust you with all my heart.” She melted into the warmth of his embrace. “Umm, you are so warm.”
“Keeping you warm is my only concern.” His lips brushed first one cheek and then the other. “And I can think of other ways.” His smiling lips sought hers in a brief kiss. “First your lips. We must make sure they’re cared for first.” He pulled away and looked at her.
“Of course. My lips.”
“Of course. But what next I wonder?”
She shrugged playfully. “Um… Let me think. How about…” She pointed to her neck questioningly.
“You are so right. How could I have overlooked your neck?” He pushed her coif away and brushed his fingers down the side of her throat. She closed her eyes as his lips pressed their warmth against her cool skin. Shivers ran down her body. He pulled back all too soon. “And where else, my Angel, requires warming?”
She gave him her widest-eyed gaze and pointed a wavering finger to her chest, where her breasts were already tight with need.
He laughed. “Ah, but you are clothed. In order to warm you with my hands, with my lips, I shall have to expose your body to the night.”
“It is not so cold. Sometimes such things are necessary.”
He pushed open the front of her surcote and slipped off the brooch that held her kirtle together. She could feel his lips smiling as they found their targets over the top of her fine, linen shift.
He pulled away, too soon, leaving two moist patches on her shift where his mouth had been.
“Perhaps you should lay down on my cloak, my lady, so the fur can warm you beneath and I can shelter you from the night air with my body.”
She swallowed. “It’s certainly an idea. One worth trying I think.”
The white of the fur shone under the silver light of the rising moon as he swept it around and down onto the stone floor. She lay back upon its softness, transfixed by the way the moon had robbed him of colour, yet still his eyes held a depth of kindness and feeling that was only for her.
“Know this, my Lady Angelique, I’ll always keep you warm, always keep loving you.”
“And I—”
But her words were lost as his lips and body pressed against hers, making her aware of every sensation as if for the first time: the delicate chill of the moonlight on her skin, the exquisite friction of his body against her, and in her, and the pounding of his heart, indistinguishable from her own.
Epilogue
Gresham Castle, Norfolk, England, Christmas 1215
The wind was brisk and cold atop the battlements at Gresham Castle but Angelique didn’t care. She gathered her cloak tightly around her and looked out across the gently rolling hills towards where the sea lay. A few days away from the coast and she always began to miss it. From here she could almost imagine she could taste the salty edge to the air.
“Trying to escape my children, Angel?” Rowena walked up beside her, leaned back against the flint wall and smiled at Angel
ique. “A nice try but I doubt ’twill be effective. Henry will be stomping up the steps as we speak. And no doubt Maudie won’t be far behind. Goodness knows where the twins are. At least the baby can’t move around yet.”
Angelique laughed. “Nay, they’re all adorable.” She patted her own pregnant stomach. “I just hope my baby turns out so well.”
Rowena put her arm around Angelique and gave her a brief hug, in an unusual display of affection. “What happened in the past won’t happen again. You have Guy now, someone who adores the ground upon which you walk. Besides I’ve never seen you so well, so happy. Of course your baby boy will be born hale and hearty. ”
“A boy?” Angelique raised a quizzical brow at Rowena. “You still insist you know the sex?”
“Your babe never stops moving so it must be a boy! Besides it lies low in your belly and, in her last missive, Melisende believes this to be how a boy lies within a woman. And she should know, she’s delivered enough babies.”
“Though none of her own yet. I hope she is blessed soon.”
“She says she’s too busy to have children. As if she has a choice!”
“Knowing Melisende, she’s probably discovered some medicine to control her fertility.” They laughed at the ridiculous thought. Then their laughter died away and they both gazed thoughtfully to the south.
“I wish she’d return to England.”
“You know she cannot, not with a price on Sir Galien’s head. Besides she’s enjoying herself, living a life she could never have lived here.”
“Aye, so it seems.”
A shout and the sound of running feet was immediately followed by the vice-like grip of a determined five-year-old’s arms around Angelique’s legs.
“Henry! You’ll knock Aunt Angelique over. Come here.” Rowena prised him from Angelique and lifted him into her arms. He immediately wriggled over her shoulder so she had to hold on to him by his ankles as he dangled down his back. Rowena shook her head and sighed. “He loves to watch the bats in the barns. He seems to believe he’s one, too. Come, it’s getting chill, let’s join Guy and Saher.”
Once back in the warmth of the Great Hall, Angelique joined Guy by the roaring fire and accepted a weak goblet of ale—she had had no taste for wine since she had been with child—and turned to watch Rowena ably deposit Henry on to the floor, receive the baby from Saher and pull one of the twins from under the table, before picking up her own goblet of wine.
Then, Rowena turned and saw Angelique watching her. She raised her goblet and Angelique raised hers in turn. “To sisters,” she mouthed to Rowena.
“To sisters,” Rowena mouthed back, smiling.
THE END
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Angelique’s story. The next in the Norfolk Knights series is the full-length novel Defending his Lady featuring Rufus de Vere (excerpt follows).
A warrior without a heart. A gypsy without a name. A marriage which will ruin them all.
Reviews are always welcome—they help me, and they help prospective readers to decide if they’d enjoy the book.
For news on forthcoming books or to sign up to my newsletter, please check out my website—http://www.saskiaknight.com.
Happy reading!
Saskia
Defending his Lady
Excerpt
The fetid heat and noise hit her like a wall as she carried the ale carefully through the door. A quick look around revealed no sign of Sir Gilbert. But still, it didn't pay to linger so she passed the jugs to the King's attendants and slipped back into the corridor again, breathing a heavy sigh of relief as she walked quickly back to the kitchen along the shadowy cold passage.
Suddenly a hand shot out from the shadows and clamped down on her arm. Before she could scream a hand came over her mouth.
"I will not harm you girl, I simply don't wish you to draw attention to us."
That was no reassurance to Kezia and she tried to bite his hand. He pulled away so she could see him better. "I have saved you once from rape, girl. If I'd wanted you I'd have taken you already. I merely wish to talk."
It was the stranger from the day before. The man the King wished dead. He wanted only to talk? Then this was a very different kind of noble, indeed.
"Just to talk," he gentled as if settling a flighty animal. "If I release you, will you promise not to call out?"
She nodded and he took his hand from her mouth, but continued to hold onto her arm to prevent her escape. She twisted around to face him. She had to look up as he was much taller than she was. The darting light of the distant rushlight glanced off the planes of his face, leaving his eyes and the bracketed lines around his mouth in shadows. For some reason her eyes lingered on his mouth and she wondered how lips so sensuous could be so stern. For one brief moment she imagined those lips touching hers. She was no stranger to the ways of lovers--the gypsies among whom she’d been raised celebrated love and gave it freely. And she knew the magic such lips as his could bring to a woman. An unexpected shiver tracked down her skin and settled deep inside her. Then his eyes narrowed and his lips hardened and she remembered where she was--a place where men took what wasn't theirs, and destroyed it at a whim. A place of danger.
"What do you want?" she whispered.
"Information. You told me to leave this place, last night. I want to know why."
"I told you... the King. I overheard Sir Gilbert's squire boasting about how the de Montmorency family fortunes were on the rise." She looked at him. "Because yours are on the decline. The King wants you dead. It's to do with the port. Some place that sounded strange. I can't remember its name." She screwed up her face to try to remember. "Something to do with a mouth?"
"Yarmouth?"
"Yes, that it. He wants control. And he wants your family ousted. And you are to be the first to go."
His gripped on her arm tightened. "And how do they propose this should happen?" She tried to tug her arm away from his grip, but it was impossible. Panic gripped her even more firmly. Why on earth had she told him in the first place? How could she have been so stupid? "Tell me, girl."
She drew a deep breath to try to calm herself. Panicking would only make it worse, it would only make this stranger feel more in control. "Hunting accident. Or so I heard. That way no one can be blamed."
He grunted and released her arm, and she leaned against the pillar, weak with relief. He walked to the open window and looked out over the white land. "Then God has granted me a few days respite."
She nodded. There would be no hunting in this weather. Taking advantage of his averted gaze, she backed quietly away, but he didn't turn around. There was something in the way he held himself that was different to the others. Tall, broad-shouldered and with the obvious strength of a warrior, yet there was something different in his eyes. While they held the same colour and resistance as stone, yet there was an air of sadness about him which she couldn't fathom. It was then that she made a mistake. She hesitated. He must have been more alert to her footfall than she'd thought and he swung around, his flinty eyes meeting hers with a direct and unerring gaze which made her gasp.
"Why do you wait, girl? Go, now, before you are caught talking to a doomed man."
She nodded, and half-turned. Then paused and looked back at him. "I am sorry that the only man who has shown me kindness here is also doomed."
Did she imagine it, or did those hard eyes suddenly brighten with humor? "No more sorry than me. Go now, wench. Go, with my thanks."
With that he turned and walked away. She watched him walk along the stone passage and disappear up the narrow stairwell at its far end. The man set her heart pounding, and yet it was not through fear. His eyes seemed to bore into her, to know her like she'd never been known before, to see beyond her drab clothes and see her, the woman beneath. She shook her head. He'd actually thanked her. Ridiculous, she thought as she walked quickly back to the kitchen. She'd be gone as soon as the snows had melted and, so would he be if he knew what was good for h
im.
Also by Saskia Knight
—Norfolk Knights—
Novellas
Claiming his Lady (Book 1)
Seducing his Lady (Book 2)
Awakening his Lady (Book 3)
Full-Length Books
Defending his Lady (Book 4)
(see previous page for excerpt)
Awakening His Lady: Novella (Norfolk Knights Book 3) Page 6