A Knight to Remember

by Maryse Dawson

  "All right, but how can I help? I won't know what to say to him!" She paced up and down nervously. "How do I greet him? What do I say? Perhaps you'd best not let him see me. I'm bound to say something wrong!"

  "Calm thyself, Jenny. Aye, of course thee will be introduced. Hugh Perevel is highly thought of for his loyalty to the Crown and to God. King Edward will be greatly pleased to be introduced to a relation of Hugh's."

  "Oh my G-goodness, I'm nervous!" worried Jenny. "Show me how to greet him, please?" she implored.

  Stephen laughed at her discomfort. "Jenny, thou art a worry-wart, although, mayhap thou hath reason to worry. Thy manners art not refined as befits a cousin of Hugh's. I wonder at thy parents' upbringing. Did they not see fit to educate thee on the finer points of life?"

  "Nay...I mean, no." Geez, she was even beginning to speak like him now! It must be her nerves kicking in. "My parents were too busy and I...just had to learn myself. Anyway, you can teach me, can't you?"

  "'Twould seem I hath no choice. But 'twill be a pleasure. Come, we shall go the hall and I shall teach thee proper manners." He grabbed her hand, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and walked with her towards the Great Hall.

  Jenny could concentrate on nothing but his masculine hand. It was huge. Hers seemed tiny in comparison and it took all her effort to focus on following him as he strode along the parapet.

  He held the door open for her when they reached one of the many staircases leading below, and she slipped through into the dim interior, relieved that he had released her hand. Every time she touched him, it seemed to send her senses into a complete whirl, and she could concentrate on nothing but him!

  They reached the Great Hall and Stephen mounted the dais, seating himself at the high table. Jenny waited at the bottom.

  "I am the king and thou art my loyal subject," he stated. "Come, greet me."

  Jenny hesitated. How the hell did one curtsey? Gulping, she stepped forward and made an attempt at curtseying. Stephen immediately broke out in laughter.

  When he finally caught his breath, he found Jenny staring angrily at him, her hands on her hips. "You're not supposed to laugh, you're supposed to teach me!" she snapped indignantly.

  Stephen shook his head. "Truly, that was the worst curtsey I hath ever beheld. Come, I shall show thee."

  "About time!" exclaimed Jenny, under her breath.

  Stephen stepped down off the dais and walked towards her. "Now, this is how a subject should show respect." He stood beside her and curtseyed as a lady would do. Jenny bit on her lip to stop herself from laughing. The man was enormous and here he was, delicately bending his knee like a lady.

  "Show me again," urged Jenny.

  Again Stephen curtseyed, and, this time, Jenny couldn't hold back her laughter. His eyes narrowed as she held her stomach in mirth.

  "Something amuses thee?"

  She managed to catch her breath and compose herself. "I'm sorry. It just looked funny seeing such a big man curtseying like a lady!"

  "Mayhap thee should concentrate on the task at hand rather than me, milady," he growled.

  "It's no good getting angry with me. You laughed at me, didn't you? I'm merely doing the same."

  For a moment, she thought he was going to become enraged, but then he smiled.

  "Aye, milady. In truth, I did. We shall call a truce. Now, show me thy curtsey."

  Jenny copied what he'd demonstrated and waited for his approval.

  "Hmm, thou needs to place thy foot further forward. I will show thee again."

  After a few more attempts, Stephen was satisfied with her performance. "Come, we shall play Nine Men's Morris."

  "Nine what?"

  "'Tis a game. If thou doth know it not, it shall be my pleasure to teach thee." He didn't wait for her answer but took her hand and led her into a small room just off the Great Hall. There was a low fire burning softly in the fireplace and the room was comfortably furnished with tapestries and solid wood furniture. He guided her to a table and pulled out a chair.

  "Take a seat, and I shall seek out the game."

  Halfway through the game, it seemed as though Stephen was going to win. Jenny had picked up the rules quickly and was determined that he wouldn't beat her. She could feel his eyes boring into her while she concentrated on her next move.

  "If I win, then I demand a forfeit. If thou should win, then I hath a small gift for thee," he stated.

  Jenny looked up. "A gift?"

  "Aye, but only if thee should win. If I win, then thee shall give me something."

  Jenny's eyes sparkled. "What sort of something?"

  "I hath not decided yet. We shall wait and see who wins. Now take thy move."

  Jenny looked back at the game and concentrated hard. Now she knew he had a gift for her, she was even more determined to win. Carefully, she took her next move.

  Stephen sat back and ran a hand over his beard. "Hmm!"

  Jenny raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'hmm?'" She watched a slow smile spread over his face and his eyes crinkled with mirth.

  "Thou fell into my trap, Jenny. I beat thee!" He quickly moved his piece and gave her a smug look.

  Jenny's shoulders slumped. "That's not fair!"

  "Art thou saying I doth not play fair?" he asked indignantly.

  "No! Of course not. I was just saying that I should've won."

  "How?"

  "Oh, forget it," she said crossly and folded her arms.

  Stephen regarded her with amusement. "Methinks thou doth not like to lose, Jenny, but I won fairly and now thee will pay a forfeit."

  Jenny looked at him balefully. "What would you have me do, clean the castle from top to bottom? Clean out the pig pen? Maybe polish your armour?"

  "Nay, nay. None of those. I would hath...a kiss!"

  Jenny's stomach flipped. "A kiss?"

  "Aye, 'tis a small forfeit I ask of thee." She noticed a look of lust in his dark eyes.

  She quickly rose to the challenge and stood up, her mouth twitching with mirth.

  "I suppose I could kiss you...but you'll have to catch me first!"

  With that, she sped off into the hall, laughing out loud. It took only a moment for Stephen to realise what she was doing before he was on his feet and giving chase.

  Jenny glanced over her shoulder and shrieked when she saw that he was almost upon her. When she reached the far end and went to pull on the door latch, Stephen's large palm slammed it shut.

  "Now, milady, thy forfeit!" he demanded.

  Jenny turned around and stared up into his eyes. Before she had time to speak, his firm lips closed over hers, and she found herself melting into arms as broad as oak trees. The man was pure muscle, through and through. His lips sent sparks of desire shooting through her body that demanded a response.

  She'd dreamed of kissing a knight many a time throughout her life, whilst reading romance novels, but living the part was even better.

  He broke away and looked into her eyes. "Thou art mine, Jenny Peverel. None other shall hath thee."

  Jenny blinked rapidly. "What do you mean?"

  "I wouldst take thee for my bride! I knowest I am meant to protect thee, but I find I cannot wait until Hugh returns, to claim thee for my own."

  Jenny could feel her heart thumping in her chest as she watched the play of emotions cross over his face. Marry him? She swallowed hard and looked into his eyes. He was searching her face for an answer.

  "But you've only known me two weeks. Why would you want to marry me?"

  "Thou art ready for marriage and I find I cannot get thee out of my mind." His hands gripped her elbows and he pulled her to him once more. "Say thee will!"

  Jenny was lost for words. Yes, she fancied him. But marriage, that was an entirely different matter! "Give me some time to think; it's all happening so quickly. I was hoping to return to London soon. This is rather sudden."

  "Thou knowest in thy heart that we should be together. Wherefore return to London? Art thou not happy he
re in Okehampton? Thou shall be lady of the castle."

  "Yes, of course, I'm happy here." She thought quickly. "Give me until after the king's visit. I'll give you my answer then. I need a little time to think."

  He kissed her once more before releasing his grip. "A few days, Jenny, no more!" He thrust his hand inside his surcoat and brought out something concealed in the palm of his hand. "Now, even though thee lost the game, I will still give thee thy gift, a small token of my appreciation."

  He opened his palm to reveal the little bracelet that she'd seen at the market stall.

  "How did you know?" she breathed, taking the offering.

  "Helena told me. See, am I not the perfect suitor?"

  Jenny laughed and placed the bracelet on her wrist. "Suitor maybe, perfect...hmm...I'm not sure!" She held her wrist out so he could fasten the bracelet.

  "Thou art an outspoken wench, Jenny," he remarked, fastening the ties around her wrist. He didn't let go of her hand but brought it up to his lips, placing a kiss on the soft surface.

  Jenny shivered as a frisson of excitement shot through her body.

  "I shall hath thy answer in four days hence." He then left her to her own thoughts.

  Jenny stood there for a while, contemplating his words and wondering what on earth to do. Would it matter if she married him? What if this was all a dream? Why shouldn't she then go with her heart's desire? But on the other hand, if she returned to her own time, wouldn't she be devastated? What should she do?

  "Damn and blast it!" She kicked the door behind her with her heel. "Men!"

  * * *

  Two days later...

  King Edward I was due any moment, and Jenny was so nervous, she felt like a rabbit caught in a trap. She paced the parapets constantly, looking out for the king's entourage.

  "'Twill do thee no good to pace so, Jenny." Stephen joined her and watched with amusement as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

  "What if I say something stupid...or do something even more stupid? What will he think of me?" She wrung her hands together agitatedly.

  Stephen grabbed her shoulders and brought her pacing to a standstill. "Jenny, Jenny. Fret not! Behave as I hath shown thee and all will be well."

  She looked up into his deep brown eyes and found herself immediately calmed. He was right. Why should she worry? She stood on tiptoe and kissed his firm lips.

  "You're right. I should remain calm."

  She quickly went to pull away when she realised what she'd done, but Stephen kept a firm grip on her shoulders. She stared up at him, slightly shocked at her own forwardness.

  Kissing him had seemed so natural.

  He wrapped his powerful arms around her and claimed her lips for his own. Her soft mouth yielded to his, surrendering totally to her inner yearnings. She might suddenly find herself in her own time again, but, for now, she was going to enjoy what was on offer and not dwell too deeply on the consequences. The fact was simple: she wanted him.

  Their liaison was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a horn in the distance. They reluctantly pulled away from each other.

  "Come," said Stephen. "The king hath arrived. We shall meet him at the main gate." His hand seized hers and they made their way down to greet the king.

  Chapter Five

  King Edward was a very tall man, and Jenny almost got a crick in her neck when she was introduced to him.

  She curtseyed just as Stephen had shown her, and it seemed to impress him. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and a deep smile lit up his face. "Good morrow, milady. To whom do I hath the honour?"

  "Jenny, Sire. Jenny Peverel."

  The king's brow furrowed. "Peverel? Thou art related to Hugh?"

  "Yes, he's my cousin, once removed." She tried to remain calm under his scrutiny and did her best not to fidget. What if he found out she was lying? Would he chop off her head? Put her on the rack? She held her breath and waited.

  The king stared at her intently for what seemed like minutes but in all probability was only seconds. Finally, he nodded, seeming satisfied. "I hath no recollection of Hugh mentioning his cousins, but then he talks little. On his return, I shall reprimand him for keeping such a beautiful creature away from my court."

  Jenny blushed with embarrassment at the compliment and then horror as she envisaged what reprimand might be dished out to poor, innocent Hugh on his return from the Crusades.

  Suddenly, there was a commotion behind the king. They all turned their attention to a dark-haired woman pushing her way to the front. She reached the king and placed a small hand on his sleeve. "Sire, must we wait all day to gain entrance? I am fairly worn out and fit to fall down!" Her lower lip pouted and she batted her lashes at him. Her eyes flicked to Jenny and a look of surprise crossed her face, before being replaced by the pout once more, when she noticed Stephen.

  "Sir Stephen. Art thou not pleased to see me?" The woman wet her lips with her tongue slowly.

  Jenny's eyes hardened. She'd seen her type before: hated all women, loved all men. Well, she'd better not love her man! Jenny stopped her thoughts abruptly. Her man? Was that how she thought of Stephen now?

  Stephen bowed politely. "Marguerite Lebreton, I bid thee welcome." She offered him her hand and he kissed it. Before he could move away, she laced her arm through his.

  "'Tis a fine castle. I shall be verily happy here."

  Jenny noticed a look of irritation cross Stephen's face, but he quickly hid it.

  "Marguerite, allow me to introduce Jenny Peverel, cousin of Hugh."

  Marguerite turned to Jenny, pretending she'd only just noticed her, and fixed her with a hard stare before offering a small curtsey. She said nothing. She didn't need to. Her eyes said it all.

  "Bitch!" thought Jenny. She curtseyed back stiffly, her eyes narrowing angrily at the other woman's attitude. She suddenly noticed Stephen staring back at her, a look of warning on his face that she'd best behave. She bristled with anger but quickly masked her expression. She'd already learned that 'look' of his meant pain to her backside.

  Stephen showed them into the main hall, where servants quickly arrived, hurrying to and fro whilst they assisted the guests with their cloaks and baggage.

  "I see this castle still stands strong, Stephen," remarked the king. "Thou doth a good job of guarding its walls."

  "Aye, Sire. Although most of the time Devon remains a peaceful land."

  "Aye, not like Wales; 'tis an unholy place to be. The people fight constantly against change and ownership. Lewellyn, Prince of Wales, hath been summoned twice to pay homage to me, but, each time, he evades such a meeting."

  Stephen shook his head grimly. "I hath heard such talk of Llewellyn rebelling against England, Sire. 'Twould seem he doth disrespect thee."

  "Aye. Therefore, I hath forfeited his lands. I shall not hath these savages constantly waging war against England. I plan to lead a campaign to bring him to heel. Willst thou join me, Stephen?"

  "Aye, Sire. Thou knowest I would follow thee into battle anywhere!"

  King Edward slapped him on the back. "I knew I could count on thee. Come, let us eat, I am famished."

  The king sat at the dais with Jenny and Marguerite between him and Stephen, whilst the servants began to bring forth the food. Jenny relaxed somewhat during the meal. King Edward was a lively man and brought humour and mirth to the table. She watched Stephen as he laughed along with him, totally at ease in his company. Her admiration of him was growing. She couldn't help herself. He was gorgeous.

  She picked up a piece of bread and spread it liberally with some strawberry confit.

  "Thou will become as fat as yonder jester if thee devours so much," said Marguerite nastily in her ear.

  Jenny's eyes narrowed, but rather than let Marguerite know she'd annoyed her, she retorted sweetly, "Too late for you, then!"

  Marguerite's jaw dropped and she glared at her. Jenny smiled and took a bite of her bread, relishing the look on the other woman's face. She'd bet Marguerite was used to women simpering aro
und her all the time and getting her own spoiled way. Well, this was one woman she wasn't going to talk down to!

  "Is something amiss, Marguerite?" the king enquired, seeming to notice the tension.

  Marguerite immediately smiled. "Nay, Sire. Methinks I may be a little fatigued from our journey, 'tis all."

  Jenny couldn't help a look of triumph flitting across her face as she licked the jam from her fingers.

  * * *

  Stephen watched Jenny's face and knew something she'd said had upset Marguerite. He understood Marguerite could be aggravating, but, even so, Jenny should watch her tongue in front of the king. He resolved to have a word with her later.

  She was delicately licking her fingers clean and Stephen felt his loins stir in response. She would make a goodly wife, even if she was a bit wild. He would enjoy the consequences of her misbehaviour when he had her bottom-up over his thighs, administering slaps to her lovely backside! Aye, he would soon teach her the error of her ways.

  His attention was diverted by Marguerite placing a hand on his sleeve.

  "Milord, I am fatigued. Wouldst thou show me to my chamber?"

  "Certainly, Marguerite." He turned and bellowed across the hall. "Annie, come hither!"

  Annie shuffled over and stared up at him. "Aye, Milord Stephen?"

  "Show Lady Marguerite to a guest chamber, and make sure she is made comfortable."

  "But milord, willst thou not show me thyself?" Marguerite pouted seductively, her hand gripping his sleeve a little tighter. "'Tis a verily long time since last we met and I hath sorely missed thy company."

  Jenny snorted under her breath, and Stephen turned sharply to look at her. Oh, aye, that wench was in need of a good talking to. Someone needed to teach her some manners. He glanced at the king, who was thankfully engaged in conversation with another knight. If he had but heard her derisive tone, she would have been made to retire from the hall at once. This time, she was lucky.

  He looked back at Marguerite, who was beginning to get impatient. He hadn't missed her at all; in fact, it had been a relief to be away from her. They had been introduced at court nigh on two years ago and he had quickly realised what a spoiled brat she was. Not only that, but she was spiteful, a trait he abhorred in anyone, let alone a woman.