A Midsummer Knight's Kiss (HQR Historical)

by Elisabeth Hobbes

  She nodded obediently, determined not to cause him any more concern.

  He strode away, bow across his back and the hood of his deep green cloak pulled down to hide his face. At the corner he turned, saw her standing there and pointed at the door.

  ‘In! Now!’

  She darted back inside and bolted the door.

  * * *

  She lay in bed that night, unable to sleep and listening to the cries grow quieter until the only sounds were the usual indications of life in the city. Her father returned late, her uncle later. Robbie was not with them, but knowing Roger and Lucy were drinking with Hal and Joanna put her mind at ease. He was safe, otherwise they would not sit and drink so easily. He must have returned to his lodging at the inn. He was probably sitting with his Mary while she was lying in bed alone.

  Robbie’s face rose in her mind, his warm eyes looking into hers, full lips drawn slightly to one side as he smiled, and her heart thumped. She rolled on to her back with a sigh of frustration, tangling her legs in her shift. She unwound the shift and smoothed it down again, letting her hands linger as they travelled across the linen, feeling the shape of her body beneath it and remembering the way Robbie’s hands had caressed her and tried to remember exactly what it had been like to be in his arms.

  Was this infatuation or something deeper? Or simply her body responding to the physical sensations she had never experienced before and seeking further explorations? She couldn’t say.

  His jaw had been stubbly when she touched it. She wondered what it would have felt like on her lips or brushing against her throat. She stroked her fingertips over her throat and could almost feel the roughness against her skin. She rolled on to her side, clenching her legs together and drawing her belly in, imagining Robbie’s lips in place of her hand. A sensation of warmth began to burn in her core and a gentle tremor passed through her body. Finally the sleep that had evaded her came upon her. Rowenna was lulled to sleep by the sound of voices, low and peaceful, coming from the room below.

  Chapter Seven

  Robbie woke to see Cecil’s face looming over him. He had been dreaming of dancing with Mary, whose wide brown eyes had been sparkling with laughter and desire. Cecil interrupting his sleep was a poor substitute.

  ‘Shift yourself, Rob, Sir John wants to speak with you.’

  Robbie rolled from the low truckle bed and pulled on his clothes, wincing as he did. It was only as he followed Cecil downstairs that it occurred to Robbie that Mary’s eyes were blue, not brown. He hadn’t been dancing with her after all, but try as he might, he couldn’t place the familiar eyes.

  Sir John was breaking his fast alone at the long table. The dividing door was half-shut across the private area and a heavy curtain covered the rest, blocking the women from Robbie’s sight, but the sound of Mary’s lute and female voices raised in laughter filtered through the cloth. The women of the household were occupied with their own diversions. The three men glanced towards them and shared a smile.

  ‘Master Hugone, shut the doors fully,’ Sir John instructed.

  Robbie waited anxiously, but when Sir John faced him, the old man’s expression was one of approval.

  ‘I was woken early by a communication from the Mayor’s office this morning,’ Sir John said. ‘He wishes to reward those who have played their part in defending the city and to provide a celebration to divert attention from what has taken place. In the next week he intends to hold a public ceremony to knight five of the squires who showed particular devotion to their duties.’

  He held out a scroll to Robbie, who looked at it uncomprehendingly.

  ‘My heartiest congratulations,’ Sir John said, smiling. ‘And my thanks for bringing such honour on my household.’

  The meaning became clear. Robbie’s hand shook as he took the scroll and read it. His name was undeniably written in black ink above the seal of Simon de Quixlay. Sir John continued speaking, but Robbie could barely take in his words. To be knighted so soon—and in York, where his family might be able to attend and where the nobility of York would watch him—was beyond his expectations.

  His heart rose. His stomach plummeted. He stammered his thanks, his words twisting in his throat even more than usual. He listened calmly while Sir John explained the time and place of the dubbing ceremony.

  ‘I have an errand for you now. I have a commission for your uncle. Please visit his workshop and take him this letter. I am sure you are anxious to inform your parents of your good fortune, but please keep the knowledge to yourself for the time being until the formal announcement is made.’

  Robbie bowed, thinking that he was in no hurry to tell Roger of his news. Still, he was grateful for the opportunity to clear his head with a walk and to try to master the smile that he knew was emblazoned on his face.

  ‘My congratulations also.’ Cecil’s eyes were flint as they walked away. ‘You were fortunate indeed to be sent out into the city rather than protecting Sir John and his women.’

  ‘I did not choose where I w-was sent,’ Robbie said. ‘Cecil, your time will come.’

  ‘Of course it will, though not as soon as it would have if my noble father and wealthy uncle of the guild had been available to lobby for me. I much preferred staying at the inn and reassuring the womenfolk of their safety.’

  Robbie’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. If Cecil knew the true relationship between him and Roger, he would not be so brazen in his insults. He let the accusation of nepotism slide off him. Any acclaim was due to his actions alone. Robbie was no longer a squire but formally a knight-in-waiting, and could forgive Cecil his jealousy. Within seven nights he would be knighted. He grinned, hoping the response would irritate Cecil more than angry words. Oddly, the implication Cecil had been comforting Mary did not disturb him as much as it should have done.

  ‘It’s a pity you couldn’t be knighted before the feast,’ Cecil continued. ‘It would have been much easier to find a woman willing to have a fumble in the corner with a knight than a squire, though I imagine there will be plenty willing to play with one so close to being dubbed. You’ll have some fine sport.’

  ‘And corrupt the oath I w-won’t have even m-made?’ Robbie retorted.

  He thought of the vows of chastity and honour he would have to declare before everyone assembled at the ceremony. His stomach twisted into a tighter knot and he felt queasy.

  ‘You had better practise making it quicker than that or I’ll be knighted ahead of you even if I start a week later.’ Cecil smirked.

  Cecil’s final arrow found its mark. Robbie should be elated, but Cecil had made a fair point. He would stumble and halt his way through the ceremony and disgrace himself, his master and his family.

  He made his way through the town to Hal’s house. The shutters to the ground-floor shop that had been closed and barred during the unrest were thrown back and the door was propped open. He peeked through the window.

  Hal was not there, but Rowenna was sitting at the trestle table they had sat on together the night before. She was dressed in the same brown kirtle she had worn at the tournament, now with a sleeveless blue cotte over the top. Her hair was loose and swept back from her brow with a filet of matching blue cloth to keep it out of her eyes as she worked. She seemed happy in her work, her head bent over a pile of papers, and her pen moving swiftly down the page before she wrote carefully at the bottom. Robbie was about to call to her but hesitated, reluctant to break her concentration. She dropped the pen and turned to piles of herbs that she began laying into bunches as she sang softly to herself. She wrapped twine around the stalks to tie the bunches together and laid them out on the table side by side. When she was finished she picked one up and held it to her nose, inhaling deeply. She raised her head, finally saw Robbie at the window and jumped, putting her hand to her breast. She beckoned him in.

  ‘You made me jump. How long were you watching me?’ she asked suspici
ously.

  ‘Not long,’ he lied. He leaned against the table beside her and they smiled at each other. He indicated the herbs with a tilt of his head. ‘Can I smell them?’

  She held a small bunch out to him at arm’s length. He leaned close to her hand and sniffed, catching the scent of lovage and thyme. He breathed deeply, the rich spiciness tickling his nose. He took it from her and tucked it into his sleeve.

  ‘Are you here to see your mother and father before they leave for Wharram?’

  Robbie tensed. During the first night of the patrol, he and Roger had come closer to speaking frankly than ever before. Knowing Roger approved of Mary made Robbie feel a little warmer towards his stepfather. He should have the conversation he needed before they returned, but his stomach felt hollow at the thought.

  ‘Not now. I might if I have time, but I have a letter from Sir John for your father. Are you here alone?’ he asked.

  ‘Father is working at the foundry on St Andrewgate. I offered to write up the accounts for him. It’s more satisfying than sewing or weaving.’ Rowenna stood and began to gather her papers. ‘Do you want to go see him? I would welcome the opportunity to escape the house.’

  Robbie caught her hand to stop her. ‘I’m happy here.’

  Her eyes scoured his face and she frowned before understanding filled them.

  ‘You still hate the forge?’

  ‘The fires,’ Robbie explained, shuddering at the thought of the vast blackness of the furnace and the flames he was sure would consume him if they were able. ‘I don’t know why.’

  ‘Well then, will you walk awhile with me?’ Rowenna asked. ‘I’ve been inside all morning and the room is stifling. We could go to the herb garden with the fountain and sit there.’

  ‘It could be dangerous,’ Robbie said.

  ‘In the garden? Even if it is, I don’t care! My parents refused to let me leave the house, saying the same thing, but they’ll be happy if you’re protecting me.’ Rowenna took his hand, dropping her eyes to the sword at his waist before raising them to look at him beseechingly. ‘I know you won’t let me come to any harm. You fight so well.’

  She spoke with such confidence in his abilities that Robbie was swayed. What fool would resist the opportunity to spend time with a woman as appealing as Rowenna?

  ‘Only for a short while,’ he agreed, tucking her arm into his and relishing the way she nestled against him as they strolled out.

  They made a circuit of the garden, but despite Rowenna’s company, Robbie could not shake the melancholy that possessed him.

  ‘You’re troubled,’ Rowenna said. She stopped by the fountain and put her hands on his shoulders, peering into his face.

  ‘Yes. No. I...’

  He untangled himself and leaned back against the stone lion, dropping his head. The worry Robbie had pushed from his mind since Sir John had announced his impending knighthood rose up. He could no longer ignore it. He found himself keen to share his trouble with Rowenna, who he knew with certainty would not mock him. He sat on the step and studied his hands, bending his head so he didn’t have to look at her.

  ‘When I am knighted I will have to s-speak. To m-m-m-make m-my oath at my dubbing.’

  Tearing each word from his throat was agony and took more difficulty than anything he could remember for a long time. If he hesitated and mumbled like that, his investiture would make him a laughing stock of the city.

  ‘That will not be for months,’ Rowenna said. ‘You will have time enough to prepare and you will be word-perfect.’

  Robbie bit his lip. He was allowed to tell no one what Sir John had told him, but his heart yearned to share the news with Rowenna. His oldest friend would share in his delight and understand his fears. It pained him that he could not tell her. One more secret that lay between them.

  ‘However soon it comes, I will not trust myself,’ he replied.

  ‘I have faith in you.’ Rowenna slipped her hand into Robbie’s and rested her head on his shoulder. He leaned his head to the side so it rested on the top of hers and closed his eyes. The scent of the herbs she had been tying was on her skin and mingling with the smell of rosemary in her hair. He inhaled deeply and sighed. He could not remember the last time he had felt so at peace. Warmth spread through him, knots in his shoulders easing as he relaxed beside her. If only he felt so at ease in Mary’s presence. He would never struggle to speak to Rowenna about anything. A troublesome fluttering in his chest stirred his conscience, telling him that such a thought was disloyal to Mary, but he ignored it.

  ‘I don’t think I can do it without shaming myself and everyone I know. I can’t speak without the words choking me.’

  ‘You’re doing it now,’ she said gently. ‘You often do.’

  He shrugged. ‘With you perhaps I do. I always feel at ease with you.’

  She twisted round to face him and put her free hand to his cheek, giving him the sweetest smile and causing his heart to melt.

  ‘Why not imagine you are talking to me alone when you repeat your oath? I’ll make sure I’m there. We could practise now.’

  Could it work if he imagined Rowenna was the only person in the church? The only person in the world? He considered her words for a long time. The garden was deserted and no one would come across them.

  ‘It might work.’

  He moved to kneel on one knee. Rowenna stood before him with an expression of such uncharacteristic gravity on her face Robbie had to fight hard not to burst into laughter. He suppressed it, knowing she was trying to help, looked up into her eyes and began to recite the vows he had learned by heart years ago.

  ‘I will observe fast days and abstinences.’

  He was hesitant at first, pausing between words, but the oaths that he had spoken in his mind so many times came more easily to his lips than he anticipated.

  ‘I shall not traffic with traitors.’

  Rowenna’s face changed slowly from solemn to smiling and she gave him encouraging nods. Robbie smiled up at her from his position at her feet. Her face filled his vision. Sunlight lit her from behind, turning her dark curls to burnished bronze.

  ‘I will not give false counsel to a lady.’

  Rowenna bit her lip and her shoulders shook a little. Robbie stopped speaking.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Rowenna giggled. ‘Only you made me remember the times you gave me bad counsel when we were children.’

  Robbie grinned. ‘I can recall enough times when you did equally!’

  ‘A fair point. In that case, I dub thee Sir Robert.’ She extended a hand and tapped him lightly on each shoulder. Her hand brushed the bare skin at his neck as she withdrew it and he shivered. He pulled on his collar, remembering the way his skin had fluttered where Rowenna had touched him the night before. He stood and brushed the dust from his knees.

  ‘Thank you. I do believe that was easier than I feared. I shall think of you while I stand my vigil.’

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be contemplating your future as a knight and praying for strength?’

  ‘Maybe I need to pray for strength to contemplate you!’ he teased.

  She laughed and tossed her head back. Robbie stared at her, enjoying the way her eyes danced and her curls fell softly back around her jaw and neck. Contemplating Rowenna was a much more appealing proposition than anything else he could think of.

  ‘I should keep you with me for counsel and to practise all my speeches on,’ he said wistfully. ‘If only speaking to M-Mary was as easy as talking to you.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Rowenna looked at him keenly. ‘You shouldn’t find it hard to talk to someone if you love them.’

  Robbie bowed his head. It made no sense. Speaking to Mary should be as effortless as talking with Rowenna.

  ‘I find that almost as daunting as the prospect of knighthood. I plan what to say when I’m alone, but the thought of spe
aking to her makes my throat seize.’

  After the exchange with Roger, he knew he could approach Mary with the blessing of his family. If he could find the words to approach her at all.

  ‘You need to rehearse beforehand as you did with your vows,’ Rowenna said.

  ‘You would let me practise on you?’ Robbie asked. It was an odd idea, but now Rowenna had put the thought into his mind it took root.

  ‘That’s not what I mean at all.’ Rowenna backed away, arms folded. ‘You don’t need a real person. A dummy in the tilt yard would suit perfectly well, I imagine.’

  Robbie chuckled at the idea of speaking to the padded figure. ‘You were happy to pretend to be knighting me.’

  ‘That was different. I’m not Mary. I’m not the one you want to say words of love to.’ She pulled a bough of rosemary from a nearby bush, shredding it on to the ground.

  ‘I know you’re not. Not Mary, I mean,’ he added quickly, realising how rude his words sounded and fearing he had offended her. He ruffled his hair. ‘I never run out of things to say to you. I’m just asking you to listen while I say the words. You don’t want me to seem a dullard, do you?’

  ‘Oh, I certainly think you’re a dullard!’ Rowenna said sharply, turning to face him. ‘I’m not going to listen to your words of love for another woman. Would you pretend to be Geoff and let me coo into your ear so happily?’

  ‘Geoff? Do you want to coo into his ear?’ Robbie’s skin prickled. He really didn’t want Rowenna to be entertaining thoughts of that stuffed tunic when she was with him.

  She crossed her arms and pouted. ‘You know I don’t! I just can’t think of anyone else to name. I haven’t had the chance to meet anyone!’

  ‘You’re right, I was stupid.’ He sighed.

  Rowenna took his hand. ‘No, you aren’t. If you love her, the words will come, and if she loves you, she won’t care how hesitant they sound. I could think of a hundred things to say to the man I love if I had the chance.’

  Her cheeks turned so pink Robbie wondered if she had anyone in particular in mind. Not Geoff, but he couldn’t think who else she might be fond of.