by Kris Tualla
“Later I know I am back at the palace. The physician comes. He gives me opium. I cannot stop screaming.”
Jakob pulled a deep, shuddering breath, and held it in his lungs until it burned, trying to loosen the bony grip of these memories. “Not until I awake some days later. But they say I screamed in my sleep.”
A sob pulled him back to the Tower lawn. Jakob’s hands fell to his lap, and he blinked at the brightness of the day.
Avery was leaning toward him. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I cannot imagine how terrible that was for you. I am so sorry, Jakob.”
“Men say I am a hero for trying to save people inside.” His voice was rough and tears dripped from his jaw. He didn’t care. “No one knows I was married, and my wife died in that fire.”
Avery took his hand again. She stroked it softly with her fingertips. Jakob watched the slow movement, and it slowed his heart as well.
“What about her family?” Avery whispered.
“They do not know. They turned away from her.”
“Did you ever tell anyone?”
He wagged his head slowly. “I was given opium so many times for pain, so my thoughts were not clear. When I was better, months had passed. There was no reason to say it, then.”
Avery squeezed his hand. “So you have held this tragedy in silence for all these years?”
“Yes.”
“Has your father’s debt been redeemed?”
That shift caught him off guard but he nodded, curious as to her point. “Years ago.”
Her intense gaze pinned his. “And yet you remained in your king’s service, in spite of the memories?”
Jakob frowned and dried his eyes with a shirtsleeve. “I never thought to leave. Being a knight and serving my king is a good life. And I am alone, so no one is hurt again.”
“Sometimes I wonder…” Her gaze fell away.
He tucked a knuckle under her chin and lifted it. “Wonder?”
Avery’s eyes met his. “There are reasons to be alone. Good reasons. I think sometimes we stay that way to protect ourselves.”
Jakob’s hand retreated. “Yes. I think this, as well.”
“And yet…” All sentiment disappeared from her expression, leaving startling honesty in its place. “Do you ever contemplate another path?”
“No. Never.” Jakob forced himself to respond truthfully—and fully. “Not before today.”
Avery rose to her knees in front of Jakob. She placed one hand on either side of his face.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Jakob felt something he had not felt in the last eight years and—if asked—would have sworn never could happen. A piece of his pain fell away, like the calved slice of a glacier ice crashing into the water below, before melting into it and disappearing. Gone. Forever.
His next words were startlingly sincere. “Thank you for asking me.”
Avery leaned closer, her eyes questioning his. He had no answer for her. He merely allowed her to keep asking, until her lips met his and her eyes closed.
He closed his eyes as well.
The kiss was soft, but not at all hesitant. Jakob accepted it, and returned it, shocked to find such pleasure in an act which he had spurned for eight years. Another chunk of ice fell.
When Avery ended the kiss, she sat back on her heels. Her breathing was erratic, and her brow furrowed. “I am sorry. I should not have—”
Jakob put up a hand to stop her. “Do not apologize.”
Her cheeks bloomed a beautiful rosy color. “I—I leave for Windsor in the morning.”
He nodded. “And I do not.”
Jakob climbed stiffly to his feet, and rubbed his thigh. He offered Avery his other hand, and she accepted his assistance. Once she stood in front of him, he kissed her wrist.
“Much has been said,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “I think we shall say nothing more until we meet again.”
Avery’s gaze fell away. She dipped her chin in sober agreement.
Then Jakob turned, tucked her arm in his, and wordlessly escorted her back to the Tower’s door, all the while wondering what the hell just happened.
June 18, 1518
Jakob watched Askel brush and clean the two remaining tunics he had brought with him from Denmark. The tailor delivered his newly purchased apparel last week, and Askel had those clothes tucked inside the trunk for tomorrow’s journey to Windsor.
As Jakob watched the valet perform the mundane tasks, he rested his right leg on a stool, but his foot wiggled without stopping.
Askel set his brush down and looked pointedly at Jakob’s restless leg. “Does something weigh on your mind, my lord?”
Jakob halted the motion and put his stockinged foot on the floor. “Why do you ask?”
Askel cocked one brow, but said nothing. He returned to his nearly completed labors, folding the blue velvet-and-pearl tunic and setting it in the trunk.
Jakob rose to his feet and crossed to the chamber’s window. A warm breeze thankfully blew toward the Thames, so the stench of the moat and docks did not disturb the outwardly placid day.
Askel’s query, combined with his own unintentional fidgeting, brought to the front of Jakob’s thoughts the very consideration that plagued him ceaselessly, both during the lengthening English days, and in his dreams, ever since Avery kissed him. He still had no idea what he would say to her when he saw her at Windsor Castle.
Telling Avery the truth about how he was injured had affected him much differently than he expected it would.
The idea of reliving the sudden loss of his first love, and the abrupt end of his brief marriage, always terrified Jakob. In addition to prompting the wrath of his king, facing the sympathetic expressions and empty murmurs which such honesty would prompt, would be like dripping lemon juice into a wound.
So when any word or situation brought that night to his mind, Jakob squelched it, refusing to allow his thoughts to dwell on the tragic events of that fateful week.
Instead, he pretended that it never happened, routinely giving a variety of explanations as to how he was injured whenever someone enquired about it. So when Avery caught his lies, and pressed him for the truth, Jakob was furious.
At himself.
He should have known better. He should have thought it through. He should have realized that the members of Henry’s tightly knit court would say something in front of each other, and the discrepancies would come to light.
The decision to tell the truth came hard. He knew it was time. And somehow he knew Avery was the right person to confess to.
The larger surprise came over the next couple of days, when a sense of peace began to spread through his core like a creeping vine. He felt the emotional weight of the damning beam slowly lift from his frame. And though in his head he always heard the words, he was starting to believe the truth—that he was not responsible for Uma’s death. She loved him deeply, and the choice to marry in secret and defy her family was hers alone.
The fire at the inn might have happened at any time. Jakob might have been slumbering beside his bride and been overcome by smoke in his sleep, just as he prayed she was. He might have died with her, senseless in the flames.
But he did not; God spared him for some reason. Perhaps it was finally time to start living again and discover what that reason might be.
Going to Spain, sitting at the Order of the Golden Fleece on behalf of his king, and championing or protecting Denmark and Norway’s concerns, was an enormous honor. Jakob had no idea what sort of effect he might be able to have on the future of his home, but the possibilities began to excite him for the first time since Christian told him about the unusual commission.
Jakob smiled, watching a pair of the Tower’s ravens take flight from the courtyard below.
And then, of course, there was the kiss.
Avery’s unexpected display of affection stunned him. Even more than her actions, it was his reaction that knocked him sideways. He liked it.
&nbs
p; He liked that she initiated their kiss, and he liked how she tasted. He liked how she smelled faintly of lavender. He loved the feel of her breath on his cheek, and the barely discernable hum of pleasure he did not believe she knew had escaped her.
Jakob turned to face Askel. “I never told you what transpired between Lady Avery and myself on the day before she went to Windsor.”
Askel set down the boot he was polishing. “No, my lord.”
“Well, she kissed me.”
Askel blinked. “On the cheek?”
Jakob chuckled. “No. Most definitely not.”
Askel picked up the boot again.
“Do you not have anything to say?” Jakob prodded.
The younger man shook his head, eyes fixed on his task. “It is not my place, Sir.”
Jakob approached the valet and reclaimed his abandoned seat. “If I ask you, it is your duty to respond.”
Askel’s soft brown eyes took on a hardened glint. “Then you must ask me a question.”
Jakob steepled his fingers. “What shall I do?”
“About the Lady Avery?”
“Yes.”
Askel’s brows pulled together. “Am I allowed to speak honestly?”
A jab of trepidation chilled Jakob’s mood. Of a sudden he felt a jolt of panic. His heart stepped up its pace to a full gallop. What was he thinking? Was he ready to look for love again?
He gave his head a quick shake. “No.”
Askel pressed his lips in a brief hard line and resumed polishing the boot, now with tense jerky swipes. “I think you should avoid the Lady Avery at every opportunity.”
Jakob sat straighter in his chair, surprised. “Is that truly what you believe?”
Askel glared at him. “You forbade me to be honest.”
Jakob extended a questioning hand toward Askel. “So you believe I should pursue the lady?”
Askel hesitated, his face twisting in confusion. “No.”
“No?” Jakob repeated. “You believe I should avoid her?”
“I have lost the line of this conversation.” Askel dropped the boot. “Am I to be honest or not?
Jakob heaved a sigh of resignation. “Yes, Askel. Tell me your honest and true thoughts.”
The valet squared his shoulders. “I believe that the Lady Avery is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Knowing that she has taken an interest in you, my lord, seems to make your path quite clear.”
“That I should pursue her,” Jakob clarified.
Askel jerked a determined nod. “As quickly and surely as you are able.”
Jakob leaned back in his chair. “I am not certain I remember how to court a woman anymore.”
The valet shrugged. “I do not believe that is a skill one ever forgets.”
“Perhaps not…” Jakob narrowed his eyes and stared at nothing in particular as he considered this twist, and the resultant new endeavor. “I suppose we shall soon see.”
June 19, 1518
Avery chewed her lower lip. King Henry and his court were expected to arrive from London today, and that meant she must face Jakob Hansen once again.
Why, oh why, did I kiss him?
That question had roiled about in her mind since the moment she left his presence back at the Tower. As handsome and friendly as the Nordic knight was, Avery had no business encouraging any romantic connection between the two of them, because she still had no intention of following that path to its logical end.
She would not bed the man.
Yet after hearing his heartrending story, told in such honest detail, Jakob might not be interested in a romantic connection with her either. Clearly his original claim that he ‘did not live like a priest’ was a lie—later he called himself an ‘ice knight’ and denied having any sort of romantic entanglements for years.
Now she understood why.
“If only I hadn’t kissed him,” she whispered to her empty chamber. “I do not know what came over me.”
Now Avery was the one speaking the lie.
When she saw the pain in Jakob’s eyes, and heard the brutal details of his injury and his loss, she felt a burgeoning kinship with the Norseman which was solidly based in her own concealed and unhappy circumstances. The one bright spot in this murky situation, was she did not tell Catherine what she had done.
If the queen knew that Avery not only kissed Jakob, but initiated that display of affection, she would have demanded to know every detail of their encounter. Avery wasn’t certain she could lie well enough to protect Jakob’s secret, in spite of her strict promise to do so.
Following a conversation of that sort, Catherine would have brought the knight to Windsor the next day. Avery would not have known what to do with the man—and even though she had two weeks to think about it since, she still didn’t.
A ruckus in the hallway caught her attention. From the snippets of passing comments she knew that Henry and his court had arrived. With a resolute sigh, Avery stood, smoothed her hair and squared her shoulders, then left her chambers in search of the queen.
Chapter Sixteen
When he strolled into supper at the eighth hour, Jakob looked healthy. Even after spending what Avery assumed was a long day on horseback, the man displayed no noticeable limp.
She did not approach him, instead pretending that she did not notice his arrival. Yet even when she was not gazing openly in his direction, she could not help but be aware of his tall presence.
“Good eventide, Lady Avery.”
Avery swiveled to face Jakob, who had somehow managed to sneak up behind her. Her breath caught when she saw him fully. He wore one of the new tunics she selected for him, and one of the lace-edged linen shirts that did not require a starched ruff. He smelled cleanly of cedar and cloves.
That combination had become her new favorite scent.
“Welcome back to Windsor Castle, Sir Hansen.” Avery felt her smile waver. “I trust your journey was an easy one.”
Jakob bowed his head. “Knowing you, Lady Avery, waited at my journey’s end, did ease my way.”
Avery’s smile died. “Sir Hansen, I must apologize—”
“Yes, thank you.” Jakob’s’ gaze flicked over her right shoulder. “Bethington, the Lady Avery asks about my leg.”
Percival grinned at her while she silently thanked Jakob for interrupting her.
“Other than the day he was invited to hunt,” Percy said, “I am afraid Sir Hansen was unable to do much of anything for a solid week after the competition.”
Avery avoided looking at the Nordic knight. “Is that so?”
Jakob’s deep voice called her attention back to him. “After Catherine left London, there was not much to be done.”
Avery opened her black lace fan and used it to cool her warming cheeks. “I suppose not. The preparations for the solstice masquerade have fallen to those of us here.”
“And how will you be costumed, my lady?” Percival’s eyes twinkled at her above his jovial smile.
“That is not a fair question, Sir Bethington,” Avery demurred. “You gentlemen must wait, and see if you might correctly discern our identities.”
Percival smacked the back of his hand against Jakob’s chest. “This one refuses to reveal his information as well.”
Jakob chortled. “Because I do not know, as I said many times.”
Avery turned to face Jakob again. “But the ball is only two days hence.”
Jakob held up a palm. “This I do know. And yet, King Henry will not show me my disguise.”
That was surprising. “Henry selected your costume?”
His disarming blue eyes made her heart skip a beat. “Yes, my lady, he has. And he seems very happy with his choice.”
She looked back at Percival to escape their unsettling influence. “I wonder what mischief the king is about.”
*****
Jakob wondered the same thing. Hearing Avery voice his own concern lowered his confidence even further. Henry clearly loved his tricks, and did not se
em to think through how others were affected by his behavior.
At least while Catherine was at Windsor Castle, Henry had no need for Jakob to misdirect the king’s whereabouts. Jakob relished the chance to rest and heal.
Now he felt renewed and ready to face Henry’s next challenge, even if it was only a costume.
Jakob smiled at Avery. “We do not have much longer until we see.”
“No. We do not.” She turned away. “I wonder when the doors will open. I am quite famished.”
Jakob could not guess how he would find Avery’s mood once they met again. It was his suggestion that they not communicate until now, because he desperately needed a chance to discern what his own response might be. Now reunited with her, he was surprised to find her so distant.
Jakob offered his arm as the doors to the dining room swung open. “May I escort you in, Lady Avery?”
Avery looked at his arm, not his face. Then she reached for Bethington. “I believe Sir Bethington asked me first.”
Jakob lowered his arm and looked at the English knight. Happy surprise etched Bethington’s features as he quickly offered his elbow to the lady.
As Jakob followed the couple in to the eventide meal, he wondered what he had done to offend the perplexing beauty whose arse swayed so enticingly before him.
*****
Jakob waited at the foot of the stairs leading to the ladies’ wing at Windsor, hoping to catch a moment with Avery. When she rounded a corner with the queen, and saw him there, she did not appear pleased.
Jakob bowed low. “Your Highness.”
Catherine tapped his shoulder as she passed by him. “Don’t keep her up too late, Sir Hansen.”
With a soft chuckle, she climbed the stairs. Avery scowled at Catherine’s back until the queen topped the staircase, and then turned her stern regard to Jakob.
“What do you want, sir?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “What have I done to offend you, my lady? Please tell me, so I might make amends.”