Thrill Of The Knight

by Julia Latham

  “But I have to explain to him my conversation with you. Believe me, that is far more difficult.”

  But she was already thinking ahead to how best to look for the ring, as if that would magically solve all their problems.

  Chapter 14

  John waited for Anne to reappear after her visit with Lady Elizabeth, but when an hour passed, he went to find her. He started in the kitchens with her friend Adalia, who told him she’d asked Anne to weed in the kitchen garden when her work with Lady Elizabeth was finished.

  Anne had deliberately avoided him, John realized, and it didn’t bode well.

  The cook herself seemed very hesitant with him, even suspicious, which seemed strange. How could she be upset with his role pursuing Anne? Would Adalia not want a maidservant to have the chance to marry a bailiff?

  Outside, he entered the kitchen gardens, which were laid out with the vegetables needed for the consumption of the castle residents. Though he saw several maidservants bent over the rows, it didn’t take him long to find Anne. She was the only one wearing a wimple.

  Considering she was an unmarried young lady, why did she wear it?

  But he could hardly ask her such a personal question, not when he was trying to keep his distance.

  The neat rows of greenery posed a challenge for his crutch—he was heartily sick of it after only a few days. He ended up straddling a row of beans and limping very carefully toward her. She looked up as he neared, shading her eyes from the sun, her face impassive. Nodding to him, she went back to weeding.

  “Is this what a lady’s maid does now?” he asked, standing above her.

  “A lady’s maid who has been deprived of her usual duties.”

  He waited, looking down at the back of her head and her slim back, but she remained silent. All around them, he saw several servants giving them wide-eyed looks and trying to hide their giggles. At least the shocked stares of the past few days were finally being replaced by amusement.

  When she continued to ignore him, he said, “Anne? Did you speak with your mistress?”

  “I did.”

  “And does she have something for me in return?” he asked in a low voice.

  She sat back on her heels and wiped her perspiring face with the back of her hand. It left a streak of dirt that he found endearing—and then he was angry with himself for noticing.

  “She feared its discovery would compromise you or her,” Anne said, “so she directed me to say that she read it, and would consider your words.”

  He frowned. “That is all?”

  “What would you have her say?” she asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

  Although John felt angry, he was mostly frustrated with the whole situation: his inability to immediately help his betrothed; her refusal to leave should he infiltrate the tower; and mostly his overwhelming attraction to Anne and his increasing fears that she would not be easy to forget. Never had a woman occupied his mind as much as she did. Even watching her work in the dirt only reminded him of how supple and strong she was, how much he wanted her in his bed.

  He gave a weary sigh. “Thank you for delivering the item for me. You are a loyal servant to her.”

  She gave him a nod and went back to weeding as if it challenged her both physically and mentally.

  Or gave her a good reason to ignore him.

  Early that evening, just after supper, Elizabeth watched John’s movements carefully. When he was beginning a game of Tables with Philip and several knights, she snuck out of the great hall and hurried to his bedchamber. Once inside, she closed the door in relief and looked about, wondering where to begin. After throwing open the shutters to catch the last of the sunlight, she started with a satchel on John’s bed. Though she deserved to know the truth, she felt guilty for spying, for continuing her deception after John had told the truth.

  She rummaged through the satchel, finding only garments. There was another satchel on Philip’s pallet, but she would not touch that unless she absolutely had to. A coffer against one wall was only filled with bedding. She ran her fingers along the mantel of the hearth, even searched for loose stones that a treasure might be hidden behind. Her breathing quickened, her heart raced, as more and more time went by and she felt the need to escape. She was just sliding her hands beneath the mattress when the door opened and closed. Her eyes went wide, and she held her breath.

  Just as she was trying to quietly slide beneath the bed again, John said, “I know you’re here. By now the whole castle does.”

  His voice was full of anger, which she wasn’t used to from him. Before she could even get to her knees, he was beside her, pulling her up by the arms until she was standing, then leaning over her, his face dark with fury.

  “What did you think you would accomplish with this?” he demanded, flinging his arm wide to encompass the whole chamber.

  “I—”

  “A soldier saw you. He told another. Who proceeded to tell me, in front of the rest of the knights, what a lucky man I was to have you waiting in my bed.”

  She gasped. “I never meant—”

  “Your mistress will hear about it someday and assume that I—that we—” With a groan he let her go and stalked away from her, running his hand through his dark hair. “And now the rest of the household will someday think that their lord took his wife’s maid to bed.”

  She lifted her chin. “I will tell them the truth. They’ll believe me.”

  “They barely speak to you. Why should I assume they’d believe you? And what were you doing in here?”

  She bit her lip and said nothing.

  He looked around the chamber and saw his open satchel.

  “Now she has you searching my things?” he said in a low voice.

  “She needs to know for certain that you are who you say you are.”

  “The ring,” he said, advancing on her.

  “Aye, the ring.” Her back hit the wall.

  “My word is not enough.”

  “Plenty of men give their word,” she replied with heat, looking up at him. “And sometimes it means nothing.”

  He reached beneath the neckline of his shirt and lifted up a chain, from which dangled a massive ring, set with a carved emerald. She stared at it, transfixed, as it glimmered in the last rays of sunset through the window.

  With sarcasm, he said, “Do you need to feel the ring to make certain ’tis real?”

  She would have declined, but he took her hand and fisted it around the ring, holding it in place. The ring was warm from his body; his hand around hers was full of a strength she couldn’t match. His arm brushed her breast. She should have been angry or uneasy, with her back to the wall, alone in his bedchamber.

  But a terrible arousal swept over her, tingling her skin from her toes to her nape. Her eyelids felt heavy, her mouth dry, and she found herself staring at his lips, remembering the magic he had wrought within her with just his kiss.

  He was staring at her with intensity, and he leaned closer, as if he would complete the kiss. She didn’t care about the deception between them, the mistrust. Her body only wanted him to make her feel complete, to finish what his pretend seduction had started.

  In that frozen moment, a thousand thoughts raced through John’s mind. Lady Elizabeth didn’t trust him, probably preferred almost any husband to him. But Anne…Anne desired him as much as he desired her, though both knew how wrong it was. If King Henry broke the betrothal contract, John could have Anne, and then—

  He inhaled suddenly and backed away, letting her hand go. The ring on its chain swung away from her, and he tucked it back beneath his tunic.

  What was he thinking? How could he dishonor himself and his family in such a way? All because of his lust for a maid. He was the only one left to resurrect his family pride, to prove to his parents that he could fulfill their wishes.

  Harshly, he said, “Go back to your mistress and tell her she has her proof.”

  She licked her lips, and although John noticed her tremblin
g, she spoke with a cool detachment he reluctantly admired.

  “And how will she know you haven’t stolen it?”

  He needed no more proof for how little he was trusted, after all he’d risked helping Lady Elizabeth. Before he could answer, there was a soft knock on the door.

  Anne’s eyes widened, and he saw her worry.

  “It is too late,” he said. “They already know you’re here.”

  But he went to answer the door, picking up his crutch and tucking it beneath his arm. In the corridor, Adalia stared up at him.

  “I—I heard the maidservant Anne is…with ye?” she said tentatively. “I need to speak with her.”

  He opened the door wide and gestured her in. Without hesitation, she moved past him. Her stiff shoulders seemed to ease when she saw the undisturbed bed, and Anne fully dressed.

  Instead of freely speaking, Adalia walked right up to Anne and whispered something in her ear. John watched with curiosity, and though Anne obviously tried to compose her face, her eyes widened in dismay.

  “Thank you, Adalia,” she said. She looked to John, not quite meeting his eyes. “I must leave. A good evening to you, Sir John.”

  She swept by him as Adalia gave a quick curtsy and followed. John watched them walk swiftly down the corridor.

  Did Anne think he would just remain here, after such a curious encounter? He followed at a discreet distance.

  When Elizabeth felt they were far enough away from John’s bedchamber, she whispered to Adalia, “How could my sisters have come unannounced?”

  “Apparently, the rumors of your captivity had finally reached them. I know not what they intended; mayhap to surprise Lord Bannaster?”

  “Where is their foster father?” Elizabeth asked in exasperation.

  Adalia shrugged helplessly.

  “What did Milburn do when they arrived?”

  “Told them they could not see you, and said he’d return them to their foster father with an even larger escort tomorrow. I think they would have caused trouble right there, but I signaled for them to be quiet. They behaved like meek young ladies and let themselves be escorted to their bedchamber.”

  “Your presence worked wonders, then,” Elizabeth said dryly. “Meek young ladies? I may not have seen them since our parents’ funeral six months ago, but they can’t have changed that much.”

  After climbing a circular staircase in a corner of the castle to the second floor, they arrived at the girls’ shared bedchamber.

  Elizabeth knocked, and when one of the girls called for her identity, she said, “’Tis Anne, lady’s maid to your sister.”

  The door was thrown wide by a shocked Sarah, the eldest of the two at sixteen. “I thought I recognized your voice!”

  “Be quiet!” Elizabeth hissed, pushing her way inside.

  Adalia retreated. “I must see to me son,” she said with a grin. “Good night, ladies.”

  When the door was safely closed, both girls, redheads without Elizabeth’s height, hugged her and started talking at once.

  “That man said you were secluded!”

  “Did you call yourself Anne?”

  Elizabeth, her arms full, patted their backs and finally disengaged herself. “I am all right. Aye, they think they’ve held me captive, but Anne and I exchanged places.”

  “Then why haven’t you escaped?” Sarah demanded. She was the practical one of the two.

  “Because Lord Bannaster would punish our friends and servants. I couldn’t permit that to happen. I’ll find a way to make everything right.”

  “So you’re acting as a maid?” Katherine said, looking appalled. “But you’re the eldest daughter of an earl!”

  “I am doing what is necessary. And it’s not as if I have much to do, since the steward only allows me in the tower at mealtimes.”

  “Anne is imprisoned there?” Sarah asked. “How long has it been?”

  “This is the fifth day.”

  “Oh, Liz,” Katherine whispered, using Elizabeth’s childhood name. “I am so afraid for you.”

  Elizabeth put her arm around her youngest sister. Katherine may be old enough to marry, but the girl had been sheltered within this loving family—as Elizabeth had once been, before her parents’ deaths.

  “It may seem frightening,” Elizabeth said, pressing a kiss to Katherine’s head, “but Lord Bannaster does not want to harm me. He only wants guardianship—and perhaps marriage. That is illegal, since I’m betrothed.”

  Sarah put her arms around them both. “You must promise me that if you can’t free yourself, you’ll get word to us. Our foster family will gladly come to your aid.”

  “I promise,” Elizabeth said, although she could not imagine bringing another family, especially one with so little wealth and power, into what might become a violent situation.

  The door suddenly slammed wide, and all three women jumped in fear. Elizabeth had a momentary terror of discovery—and then when she turned around, she realized that the next worst thing had happened.

  John was standing there, looking angrier than she’d ever seen him. He must have been listening at the door. He closed it hard and came into the room, the crutch useless in his hand.

  “Ladies, have no fear for your sister,” he said.

  His low voice was so pleasant as to be frightening.

  “She has not told you all of the truth. I am Lord Russell, her betrothed, and I will take care of her.”

  But the look in his eyes was anything but pleasant. He stared at her as if she were Eve caught talking to a serpent in the Garden of Eden.

  As if she’d betrayed him.

  She lifted her chin and gave him a cool stare in return, though her stomach was churning with nausea. He had lied to her, too, she reminded herself. He’d used her.

  But she found herself wishing she’d chosen to tell him the truth before now.

  She waited for John to blame her for misleading him, but he only turned to her sisters, who were looking at him with relief, as if he’d already managed to save them all.

  She could have saved herself without his help, Elizabeth found herself thinking with anger.

  “Ladies,” he said to her sisters, “I came here in disguise to rescue your sister. Though some delicacy will be required to extricate her from this situation, I promise that she and I will make this work.”

  Elizabeth found herself even angrier, because he included her in his plans, as if she were his partner. She couldn’t trust that—to her, it sounded like he was placating them all. And trying to take over. And he hadn’t even told her his plan!

  But Sarah and Katherine were looking at him as if he were a rescuing knight at the head of an army. How could she tell them that he couldn’t even afford armor?

  “But it will be more difficult if we have to worry about the two of you,” John continued. “I ask that you return home and await word from us.”

  “We will,” Sarah promised, her smile bright and full of hope. “We’re so glad to finally meet you.”

  “And we’re so sorry about the death of your brothers,” compassionate Katherine added.

  John nodded. “My thanks, ladies. Now if you don’t mind, I need to speak to Lady Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth heard the slight emphasis on her name, and she winced.

  “If you see me in the morning before you depart,” John added, “I will not speak to you, and you must not seem to know me at all. And you cannot speak to your sister, except as to a maidservant.”

  “As we would speak to Anne,” Katherine said cheerfully.

  “It is not worth the risk,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps we should not even see each other in the morning.” She hugged each of them in turn. “Take care of yourselves. Thank you for coming to see after me. Do your foster parents know where you are?”

  Sheepishly, Sarah said, “We told them we were visiting Lady Louisa.”

  “Then you need to return immediately, before they discover the danger you almost got yourselves into.”

 
Katherine looked between John and Elizabeth with interest. “Do you want to talk here? We could leave…”

  “Nay, that will not be necessary,” John said. “Good evening, ladies.”

  In the corridor, he once again slid the crutch beneath his shoulder and walked with a limp. He took Elizabeth’s upper arm in a firm grip. A valet who usually served in the great hall stared as he walked by them.

  When the boy was far enough away, she whispered, “You do not have to hold on to me.”

  He just gave her a look.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To my chamber,” he answered in a cold voice. “You cannot possibly mind—the entire castle thinks you’re mine anyway. God’s Blood,” he added with a harsh laugh, “when they discover my identity, they’ll be grateful I took you in hand and kept you safe.”

  She gritted her teeth and said nothing, knowing she would have to weather the storm of his anger. They went down one flight of stairs rather quickly for a man who supposedly had a broken leg, but John didn’t seem his usual cautious self.

  When they reached his bedchamber, they found a candle lit, as if Philip had been there and gone. Elizabeth waited for the door to close, then turned to face John, prepared to hear his arguments.

  But he threw the crutch on his bed, grabbed her by both arms, turned to put her back against the door, and then kissed her.

  This was not the delicate, romantic kiss that their first one had been. Nay, this was a full-scale assault, hot and invasive and powerful. Her head was tipped back, her body was pressed hard into the door by the sheer strength of his. His tongue swept her mouth, announcing his possession of her right here, right now.

  One of his large hands held her face, as if he thought she’d revolt. The other swept down her neck and then lower, cupping her breast, an intimacy that shocked and angered her. This desperate need to touch her made her realize how much he’d been holding back since he’d told her the truth of his identity.

  And how angry that seemed to make him.

  In the heat of the moment, every emotion from passion to fury swept through her, and she kissed him back, hard, putting her tongue in his mouth, battling with his for supremacy. Their mouths opened wider and slanted, their heads twisted as they sought to merge deeper.