Her Christmas Knight

by Nicole Locke

  ‘What are you doing?’ Alice asked when he came up beside her.

  ‘Following you,’ he said.

  After what she had just said she’d expected more scornful words, and for him to allow her to walk away. ‘Why?’

  ‘You dismissed your servant, so I’ll accompany you.’

  She wanted to ask on his reasoning again, but stopped herself. He had been angry mere moments before, and she had given him cause to leave. Or at least to be shocked.

  She’d been shocked at what she’d said. She’d never even been kissed, and now she’d practically told him she’d lain with legions.

  Anger spiked through her confusion. So what if she had been with legions? He had rejected her; had no claim on her.

  But all that didn’t matter. Because now it was as if Hugh was another man altogether. His eyes were unreadable, the muscles in his jaws were relaxed. Everything about him was relaxed. He was up to something. This wasn’t right.

  ‘I don’t want you here.’

  ‘You want privacy? Perhaps because you were intending to buy a present for me?’

  Aggravating man.

  ‘Come, we don’t even need to talk,’ he said. ‘A lady shouldn’t be unaccompanied in town.’

  She needed to be unaccompanied. It was exactly what she wanted to be. ‘I’m finished in the town.’

  ‘Will you be returning home?’

  ‘Yes.’ Lie.

  ‘I’ll take you there.’

  It was too early for her to return home. Hours would be wasted if she did, and she didn’t have time for this. If she’d had an abacus to slam down, she would have.

  ‘Perhaps I’ll go to Mitchell’s.’

  Hugh tensed beside her. Just a little—just enough for her to notice. Why was she noticing?

  ‘Then I’ll accompany you,’ he said.

  She stopped walking and looked at him. It was her turn to raise her brows.

  His brows were drawn, chin lowered. His eyes almost unreadable, that storm inside him brewing.

  ‘I’ll accompany you there,’ he repeated.

  There was no getting rid of him. She’d have to occupy herself with the project, when she’d meant to go by the property tomorrow. It would be late by the time she arrived, and she’d hardly be useful.

  Yet with Hugh by her side there would be no more questioning of vendors either—another day lost in helping her family. And she didn’t like it.

  ‘Then you’ll leave?’ she said, walking again.

  He kept pace with her. ‘Why do you go to Mitchell’s?’

  He was stubbornly by her side, and unhelpful with his answers. She needed Hugh gone.

  ‘I am not going to Mitchell’s.’

  He placed his hand on his chest. ‘Come, Alice, I’m weary, and I only wish to be a gentleman.’

  ‘You wished to be something else.’

  His expression darkened before she realised what she’d said, and she wondered where this boldness had come from when she had no experience with it. Probably from frustration and worry. She had no patience because the King would have no patience, because William was worried about his Boy Bishop duties, because winter storms would soon arrive and families needed work and shelter.

  She closed her eyes, rephrased. ‘I mean, you are up to something else.’

  ‘What could I possibly be up to?’

  Everything. Nothing.

  She hurried her pace. She was more than suspecting now that his presence had to do with the King, but if he wasn’t telling neither was she. And he still wasn’t leaving her side.

  ‘I’m going to the south-west corner of our land,’ she said. ‘I’ll need to stop at the house for supplies first. After that, if you insist, ride with me there.’

  Her family’s land was vast, with thousands of sheep. Hugh had never been privy to surveying it before. The old horse his father had kept was used only for the most necessary trips. But there were days when he didn’t want to return home, and on those days his feet had taken him almost out of Swaffham.

  ‘There was a barn there...falling apart.’

  ‘If you come, you have to help.’ She stopped, stared at him the way she had in the garden. Assessing. Commanding. ‘You will help.’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  He tilted his head. ‘Is Mitchell there?’

  She waved her hand at him and sped up her footsteps. Even if she hadn’t gone silent he would have known her patience was gone.

  So was his.

  ‘Secrets?’ he said. ‘I’ll know them all, Alice, no matter how fast you walk away.’

  * * *

  Hugh heard the commotion before they turned the bend in the road. Pounding against metal, shouts, smells of burning coal and wood. Fires and smoke clashing with the winter wind.

  Whatever he had been expecting by following Alice here, this industry was not it. It was already late afternoon. Delay had been caused by the retrieval of two horses, the saddling of two more.

  The winter light was dimming. They had no more than a few hours’ daylight left, but everyone worked as if the day had just begun.

  When others spotted their arrival, there were more shouts. Children and their mothers strode forward. Alice’s two horses carried large sacks and baskets. Food, blankets, supplies. Now he knew why.

  As Alice alighted she was greeted warmly and with much chatter. He shook his head at the sight before him.

  All morning in her presence there’d been suspicion between them. Since he had insisted on accompanying her, she’d kept a stony silence. Though he’d burned for information, he had gathered his patience to wait until they arrived. He had thought this trip would be useless—until now.

  Alice was surrounded by people. The worry in her eyes had eased, a smile curved her lips. She held the hand of one small child.

  The stares coming his way were merely curious, and he dismounted. He recognised no one. They could be from Swaffham, but he saw the tents, the many fires. These people were living here in the dead of winter on her family’s land.

  From the staples she had brought, from the questions and answers she gave, he concluded that she was assisting them.

  All the years he’d stayed away from her, from Swaffham, this was what he’d dreamed of when he had dared think of her. Her and her beloved projects; her helping others. Her care and kindness.

  Seeing it gave him no ease, only more questions. As did the industry here.

  He began a tour of the grounds. He had been gone many years, and none of this was recognisable. No sheep in sight, the landscape was dominated by what had once been a decrepit barn and at least one hundred people.

  The barn was larger than he remembered it, even with the roof and one wall completely torn down. Not for long. Men were already measuring and cutting wood for posts and braces. Older children and women were weaving branches for the wattle. Large barrels nearby were full of the daub mixture that would be made into large balls to fill in the walls.

  Numerous fire pits surrounded everything to provide warmth for the workers and to cook their food. Whenever he got close to one he reached out his hands, as all the others were doing. Large pots of soup, bread, onions and potatoes were being passed around. Not cooking, but keeping warm. Ready for when it was time to rest.

  Whatever he had been expecting here, this wasn’t it. Alice had said she wanted to visit Mitchell, but this wasn’t Mitchell’s land and building barns wasn’t his industry.

  It wasn’t the usual kind of project for Alice either. Her past endeavours had been focused on more intimate care.

  At first it had been patching up injured animals, then small children. Then bringing food for families in need, or tending someone who had fallen sick.

  That Alice co
uld be seen here, as she crouched, circled by dozens of children with eager hands, reaching for the bits of fruit she’d brought. Her smiles were at ease now, her brows arched in gentle warning. She was handing out apples to the younger children. No doubt to share with the older ones. Giving them power when they usually had none.

  Handing over the last treat, she stood and wiped her hands on her skirts. As the last of her supplies were carted away, and the last child left her heels, he walked over to her.

  ‘What is all this?’

  Alice looked around her. Despite the weather, the work was going faster than she’d expected. Her talking to the women and children had helped greatly to ease her other concerns, but not all.

  Regardless of his demand to accompany her, she had brought Hugh here. His presence in Swaffham only complicated her tasks, but since he insisted on being here she would use him for her own purposes.

  ‘I’m working with Mitchell to help the spinners here.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He’s travelled recently to Italy. Seen the making of the Great Spinning Wheels—have you seen them?’ At his nod, she continued. ‘He knows how to improve them, with tables so a spinner can sit and produce more thread, but they need space. The foundations of this building are still good, and most of the walls. It seemed a solution.’

  Hugh’s brows were drawn, but she didn’t know what to make of that.

  ‘It’s more than a solution,’ he said.

  Was it? She’d never concerned herself with the family wool business—not as her sister, Mary, had—but Alice realised she could love it too. Because it helped people. And in that Alice understood how she could contribute. After all, there were many spinners in Swaffham who would gain more income with Mitchell’s tables if they had the space to put them.

  ‘Who are these people?’

  ‘Mostly from Swaffham, but a few are from other towns. They were staying in the barn until we had to take off the roof.’

  ‘All this in winter?’

  ‘Shearing season is in the spring. In order to be ready, we needed to move quickly. It’ll be too cold soon, and they will return to their homes, but I’d hoped we’d get the roof on.’

  It would be a slow process. ‘Many of these people aren’t builders.’

  ‘The women are spinners. With Mitchell’s tables and chairs these women would be able to share work and help each other as they worked.’

  ‘Where did you get this idea?’

  ‘I’ve been forced to sit in circles and do needlework. Talking passes the time more quickly. Spinning requires space, and Great Spinning Wheels even more. This will allow them to be more comfortable.’

  Hugh went silent again, looking over her shoulder, watching the chaos.

  She found herself watching for his response. She shouldn’t care what he thought; he said he’d help, and in that she believed him. She might not trust him now, and he might think her a whore for the King, but she did need help. That was her only concern.

  ‘This is different from what you used to do,’ he said. ‘I thought your sister was more interested in the efficiency of the industry.’

  ‘She is, and I can’t wait to share this information with her so she can start something on her own land, but I have realised I can look at it from my point of view as well—from the views of the spinners and their families. This might be a solution for them to earn more, too.’

  ‘So you’re helping people.’

  She nodded.

  He exhaled, his expression easing. ‘I’ll help today and over the next week. The weather’s changing already. I’ll see if Eldric can spare some time.’

  Despite herself she said, ‘This wasn’t what you expected when you followed me here.’

  He opened his mouth, closed it. Started to speak. ‘I think, when it comes to you, I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.’

  He smiled a little then, as if in jest. She knew otherwise. He had been expecting something, and it hadn’t been answered here.

  ‘Do you intend to keep following me?’

  ‘We met by happenstance in the market, Alice. You were unaccompanied.’ He tilted his head. ‘I merely fitted a role.’

  Not one that she wanted him to. He wanted something from her, and he would keep following her until he had his answer. She didn’t need him around, not when she had other tasks to do, but it wouldn’t be terrible if she could get Hugh out of her way and the extra hands she needed.

  ‘Well, your role today is hard labour.’

  ‘Scaring me away with work? You’ll have to do better than that.’

  She knew too much of him to believe anything she said would turn him away. He might carry a storm in his eyes, but it was as if that storm was in his life as well. He had been relentless in achieving knighthood. Tireless in helping his father.

  No, she didn’t want to scare him; she simply wanted his questioning, calculating gaze to be gone.

  ‘Why are you here?’

  He looked away, shrugged. ‘I think you need me.’

  And there was the reason she wanted him gone—because while it was true his extra hands were needed, his words seemed laden with other meanings.

  And he was wrong; she didn’t need him. Not any more. She’d made a life for herself here, and the King threatened it. She didn’t need Hugh to complicate matters.

  ‘I need to find Mitchell now,’ she said. ‘He must be on the other side of the barn.’

  Hugh’s countenance darkened, but she turned before he could answer. She was eager to get to work. To accomplish something this day so that all was not lost.

  * * *

  The sun was setting, the fires were blazing and there wasn’t enough light to work any more. Instead of readying for the night, Hugh and the others were cleaning their tools and preparing for the next day.

  Wrapping the last of the hammers with heavy linen, he stood to roll his shoulders and knew his blistered hands would give Eldric the advantage in training tomorrow.

  But the wall was mounted, the eaves were assembled for placement, and most of the thatch was ready to apply. A couple more days and there would be a roof. Which was good, because the mist was heavy, the clouds dark. Soon the heavy rain and the snow would bury the ground.

  It was madness to build in weather such as this. But it was inspiring too. Many of these people looked as if they couldn’t afford tools; they needed this work now. They also needed the work that would come from this kind of production.

  Alice was changing people’s lives here. She’d done it before—by saving puppies, by giving food where needed—but this...this was providing a way forward. Not merely for these people in Swaffham, but for the wool business, too.

  Who was she?

  I command the King.

  The years had strengthened her. Always compassionate, always kind, but now there was fortitude in her.

  It wasn’t only in the way she directed the builders. It was in the way she was side by side with the other women—how, when she could, she pointed out ways of improvement. He watched her learn as well.

  All his life he had longed for her. A sort of heart’s wish. Now her strength drew her to him. She had become...a man’s wish.

  Was she the King’s mistress? She had never denied it. And yet seeing her like this, seeing her strength, he was wondering if it mattered.

  A mistress was a woman, who needed a man for protection. Alice displayed none of those traits. She was complete.

  And yet, she was in a King’s chamber. Had the King been drawn to Alice’s resolve and kindness? Maybe she hadn’t gone to the King because she was forced. Perhaps instead of the pleasure being coerced from her she had taken instead.

  And there he felt and understood the source of his jealousy. Because she hadn’t taken from him. His body tightened at the me
re thought and unbidden his gaze fell on her.

  She was bent over one of the fires, sitting next to the children, and like them she was skewering meat onto sticks to cook. Her face was animated as she listened to the little girl sitting next to her. The fire’s light played along the fine features of her face. Her upturned nose, the plump fullness of her bottom lip. The colour of her skin shone gold. He wanted to touch it to see if it was as warm as it looked.

  All his life he’d cursed himself for comparing other women to her, but now he knew he had no choice. Unworthy though he was, everything about her called to him.

  Done for the day, and knowing he was to accompany her home, he felt a certain lightness enter his chest. He felt himself almost smiling—before he saw Mitchell striding towards Alice.

  Over the last several hours he had watched them engage together. Noticed their ease of conversation, their gestures. It was clear that Mitchell’s family hadn’t fared as well as Alice’s. Still, he was one of the established spinning families who had been there for generations. Privileged. Those who were invited to and accepted at the best dinners and festivities.

  It seemed their friendship hadn’t waned in their years apart, or in their differences of income.

  Bypassing three men carrying large stacks, he walked slowly towards them. They might have grown up childhood friends, but Mitchell’s time abroad had changed that. He was looking at Alice now as a man would a woman.

  Alice seemed oblivious. Maybe she didn’t know—was innocent and therefore didn’t understand that she shouldn’t be standing so close, or laying her hand on Mitchell’s sleeve.

  Or maybe she did know.

  Stamping through a deep puddle, Hugh hurried his pace.

  * * *

  Alice was listening to Mitchell bemoaning the lack of sufficient wattle when she saw Hugh storming towards them.

  At first she almost ignored him, as she’d tried to do all day, but the certainty of his step, the steadiness of his gaze, warned her otherwise.

  Knowing Mitchell didn’t need to hear a confrontation between her and Hugh, she excused herself and walked to meet Hugh.

  There had been no argument or calamity to account for Hugh’s darkened demeanour. After his insistence that he accompany her here, he’d ignored her since their arrival.