A Nordic Knight in Henry's Court: Jakob & Avery: Book 1 (The Hansen Series - Jakob & Avery)

by Kris Tualla

  “Because my heart cannot be won, Jakob,” Avery said sadly.

  A new idea dawned on him like fierce, hot sunrise. “Do you like men?” he ventured.

  Now Avery blinked. “What do you—oh!” Her cheeks flamed. “Yes! I love men!”

  She waved her hands in front of her. “No, I don’t mean that I love a specific group of men. I mean that, as the other gender, I find men both attractive, and interesting.”

  Jakob chuckled. “That is relieving to hear.”

  “Such a question.” Avery made a tsking sound. “Such a subject is not appropriate between a man and woman.”

  “Between friends,” Jakob corrected.

  “Even so, I must warn you: your attempt to win my heart will not succeed.”

  Jakob stood and, in his loose shirt and hose, gave Lady Avery the most graceful and impressive courtly bow he could conjure. “I accept the challenge, my lady.”

  “Stop. You are behaving foolishly.”

  When Jakob straightened, he saw the appreciative mirth in her eyes which negated her words. “While I am in England, I desire a goal which requires my wit and my… strategi?”

  “Strategy. Yes, I understand.” Avery shook her head. “But choosing an impossible goal is no place to begin.”

  Jakob wagged a finger. “There you are incorrect, my lady. It is the perfect place to begin.”

  “You truly are incorrigible.”

  Jakob laughed. “Thank you, yet again.”

  Avery threw up her hands. “I surrender. You may as well try. You are leaving for Barcelona in a few months, so nothing shall come of it under any circumstance.”

  Jakob reached for one of Avery’s hands and lifted her from the chair. “I start now.”

  *****

  Avery sucked a quick breath and her eyes widened. Jakob’s large fingers slid under her costume’s headpiece and gripped the sides of her head. Her eyes closed just before his mouth claimed hers.

  When she kissed Jakob two weeks ago, she wanted to show him compassion and affection. His kiss, on the other hand, pulsated with desire.

  Jakob released her head when she didn’t pull away from him. His arms wrapped around her body, pulling her length against his. Her thin Greek gown did not provide any of the accustomed protection of her stiff bodices and layers of skirts. And Jakob wore only a shirt and hose.

  Avery felt every ridge and valley of the knight’s muscular frame. Heat flowed through his shirt and her gown, making her skin tingle. His thigh slid between hers, and parts of her body, long neglected, warmed suddenly. One hand moved down her back and stopped just shy of her arse.

  Their kiss would need to end at some point, but Avery was in no hurry for that point to arrive. She had not allowed herself to be kissed like this in years, and the Norseman was doing a fine job of reminding her just how powerful a well-executed kiss could be.

  When he finally pulled away, she couldn’t open her eyes.

  “That is how you should always be kissed,” he whispered in her ear. His hot breath tickled her skin and sent a shiver of gooseflesh down her back.

  Avery drew a deep and shuddering sigh. She forced her eyes open.

  Jakob stared down at her, his lips curved into a small smile. He lowered her back into her chair and regained his own. Then he lifted a cup.

  “I should have offered you wine. I apologize.”

  Avery shook her head; she needed to hold on to whatever remained of a clear mind. “No. Thank you.”

  He set the cup down.

  “I should go. The hour is quite late.” She pushed herself to stand, relieved to discover that her legs no longer threatened to collapse.

  The knight stood as well. “I am very glad you came to talk with me. I believe we both understand more things now.”

  “Yes. I believe we do.” Avery turned toward the door.

  Jakob stepped past her and opened the door for her.

  As she stepped through the opening she stopped and looked at Jakob over her shoulder. “I hope you sleep well. Jakob.”

  His head lowered and her lips parted for another kiss.

  “Dream of me, Avery.”

  He straightened and smiled.

  Flummoxed by her expectation, and his denial, she strode away down the empty hallway.

  Her thoughts bashed around in her skull like warring gods. This night contained so many unexpected aspects that she could not sort them out.

  For a moment she considered rejoining the masquerade, losing herself in the continuing festivities, and not thinking about any of what transpired between herself and Jakob until the morrow.

  And yet, her feet moved toward her chambers instead.

  Avery realized of a sudden that she longed for the silence of her bedchamber. She wanted to examine everything Jakob had said, and done.

  The Nordic knight was quite adamant about his decision to try and win her over, but while many men had tried, none could succeed. Avery always guarded her heart with steely bars crafted of resolute determination and devout obeisance. She made the harsh decision to do so nine years earlier—the day she stepped onto the ship bound for London and Catherine’s court.

  She had never lowered the bars once. No man ever tempted her enough for her to even consider it. Until now.

  Sir Hansen was dangerous.

  Avery was glad for his sake that, once he finally admitted the truth about his clandestine marriage and subsequent tragedy, the man felt released from the chains of secrets and lies. In his case, eight years of penance were passed in celibacy and regret, though Jakob could not be blamed in any way for the horrific manner in which his situation ended.

  Her situation however, as a respected lady-in-waiting to the queen of the most powerful country in the known world, was of her own creation. What was done was done, and it was too late to look back.

  Avery reached her chambers. With a deep breath to fortify her mood, she opened the door and entered her silent sanctuary alone.

  Only then did she remember Lizzy’s whispered warning and the poisoned dog.

  Chapter Nineteen

  June 21, 1518

  None of the revelers in Windsor Castle were visible at ten bells this morning, when Jakob and Warrior departed for a pleasant ride through the surrounding countryside, but the expected summons from Henry was waiting on his return. Now that the castellated clock had chimed twice, Jakob stood in the king’s private sitting room, watching Henry laugh and wipe his eyes.

  “I should have warned you, Hansen. But the thought did not come to me until I saw you cornered by Lady Ethan in that window casing.” Henry guffawed. “I do not believe I have ever seen a man’s cheek shift from stark white to brilliant scarlet so quickly.”

  Jakob gave the man a patient smile. “I am glad I amuse you, your Grace.”

  Henry wheezed another laugh. “I suppose I owe you something for the trouble. All that groping, but no release, eh?”

  Jakob put up a palm. “I assure you, my lord, I have no problem in that area.”

  “No?” Henry swiped a hand across his grin. “Who is she? Anyone I know?”

  Jakob winked. “A gentleman does not say.”

  “Well stated, Hansen.” Henry poured a cup of wine and handed it to Jakob.

  Jakob accepted the wine. “Thank you.”

  “Have a seat, Hansen.” Henry dropped into a chair. “I want to discuss something with you.”

  Jakob took the chair facing Henry. These discussions seldom played out well for Jakob, and the offering of wine beforehand seemed to confirm his assumptions.

  Henry’s expression grew pensive. “You see what I am against, now.”

  “I do not understand what you mean, your Grace.”

  “The women, Hansen.” Henry took a healthy sip of his wine. “They pester me constantly.”

  Jakob nodded. He now knew from his personal experience that the king’s situation was much more intense than he ever considered it might be.

  “Women believe that having a child fathered b
y a man of great power is their passage into wealth and status.”

  Henry heaved a resigned sigh, which Jakob believed might be sincere if the man’s demeanor could be trusted. The fact that Henry was young, athletic, talented, and undeniably handsome certainly had an effect in that pursuit.

  “And when that man is King of England, the incentive is even stronger.” Henry peered at Jakob. “Can you see that?”

  “I never thought of these things before,” Jakob admitted. “Yester eve was… interesting.”

  Henry spread his arms. “I could bed any woman in London. In England. Perhaps the entire world.”

  One thing Jakob could say about Henry was that the man never underestimated his own worth. “I see that now, your Grace.”

  Henry pulled his arms in and leaned forward, pointing his wine cup at Jakob. “So for me to only dally with the lovely Miss Blount, is actually a sacrifice in many ways.”

  While Jakob attributed the king’s restraint to a lighter sin, not a virtuous sacrifice, he had marked how many opportunities the vigorous sovereign apparently declined.

  Yet rather than agree to Henry’s skewed explanation, Jakob asked, “When will you return to London?”

  Henry sat back again. “Soon. I have heard that the French ambassador is eager to meet with me concerning the Treaty of London.”

  Jakob risked a crooked grin. “Not too soon, so he must wait?”

  Henry chuckled. “I see you understand the delicate dance of politics, Sir Hansen.”

  “Will the queen return as well?” Jakob had one very beautiful reason for asking that particular question.

  Henry’s eye narrowed. “I have not spoken to her about what she prefers as yet. Why do you ask me this?”

  For a moment, Jakob’s mind went black as pitch. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat to fill time, while he waited for the perfect and unquestionable reason to illuminate his mind’s deep, featureless darkness.

  There it is.

  “I would wish to ask Lady Avery to teach me a little Spanish before I go to Barcelona.”

  Henry looked pleasantly surprised. “What an excellent idea.”

  Relief flooded Jakob’s frame. “If the queen stays here, your Grace does not need my service in London.”

  Henry stroked his chin. “Exactly.”

  “For this reason, I ask to remain at Windsor while the queen does.”

  “And as long as the queen remains at Windsor, my visits to Miss Blount may happen whenever I like.” The king grinned. “This is a very good plan, Hansen.”

  Jakob felt a twinge of guilt; making Henry’s infidelity easier to accomplish was never his motive. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Henry stood, and Jakob scrambled to his feet.

  “I shall need you and Sir Bethington in London when I meet with the French ambassador, however. Considering that you two will be traversing his country soon, it is time to begin smoothing that process.”

  Jakob bowed his head. “Of course, your Grace.”

  Henry finished his wine, and Jakob did the same.

  “That is all for today, Hansen.”

  Jakob bowed and backed toward the door. He turned and reached for the handle.

  “I have one more thought,” Henry called after him. “Have Sir Bethington sit in on those Spanish lessons with Lady Avery. He’ll need that skill as well.”

  Jakob closed his eyes and bit his lower lip.

  No!

  “Yes, your Grace.”

  He left the king’s sitting room without slamming the door. Barely.

  *****

  “Spanish lessons?”

  “Yes.” Jakob appeared extremely pleased with the idea. “I asked Henry to allow me to stay at Windsor when he goes to London, so that I may ask you for Spanish lessons. For Barcelona.”

  “What did he say?”

  Jakob grinned. “He called it an excellent idea.”

  Avery opened her fan and applied its effect to her warming cheeks. Though she and Jakob sat in the shade of the Round Tower, the summer afternoon was oppressive without a breeze. “Is this part of your attack on my heart?”

  Jakob laid a hand against his chest, his expression suddenly sober. “I will never attack your heart, my lady. Never. I shall win it in peace.”

  Avery stared at the Norseman. His blue eyes were clear as the sea, and his hair shone in the daylight like a halo. Her heart stepped up its pace a little.

  “Eres incorrigible.”

  Jakob raised his brows. “What?”

  “You are incorrigible.”

  He smacked his palm on the bench. “What does this word mean?”

  She gave him a severe look, hoping he would understand her exasperation. “Unable to be reformed.”

  His face lit up. “This word I know. Reformari. Reformert.”

  Clearly Avery was not getting her point into the knight’s head. “No matter what the language, the meaning is the same—and it is obviously true. You cannot be reformed!”

  Jakob chuckled, his eyes glowing like blue flames in the late afternoon light. “In German—Deutsch—it is unverbesserlich.”

  Her jaw dropped. Her fan stilled. “Are you purposefully being argumentative with me?”

  Jakob put up his hands in surrender. “No argument. I am unable to be reformed. However—” He lowered his hands and leaned closer to her. “—I know this is something you love about me.”

  Avery huffed. “And why would that be true?”

  “Because I never bore you.”

  With a terrifying start, she realized he was right.

  Other noblemen who attempted to court her over the years either followed courtly convention, or went in the opposite direction and became too familiar. Even obscene.

  One path offered no surprises, only unending politeness and conventionality. The other one significantly insulted her. She had seen several noblemen tossed out of the court after she whispered their offensive words to Catherine.

  Jakob, on the other hand, was guileless. He was as polite as was required, but he never acted the sycophant. He asked hard questions, and stated his opinions.

  And it would now seem, he actually had a well-developed sense of humor hiding behind those eight years of grief.

  “Incorrigible people are seldom boring,” she allowed. “But that doesn’t mean you want them around all the time.”

  “Then I will not be incorrigible.” Jakob leaned back, smiling deeply enough that his eyes crinkled at their corners. “Reform me.”

  Avery groaned. Everything she could think of to say would only fuel his impish fire.

  “When can we begin our lessons?” he asked. “Now?”

  “No.” After an uneasy sleep filled with dreams sparked by Jakob’s kiss, Avery didn’t have the energy. “Tomorrow. After the midday meal.”

  “Ettermiddag.” He winked at her. “I will teach you Norsk.”

  “I do not need to speak Norsk.”

  Jakob ignored her objection and held up one finger. “There is one more thing Henry says.”

  Avery pulled a deep breath and straightened her back. She was braced and ready for anything. “What?”

  “Bethington is to have lessons, also.”

  Except that.

  “I am supposed to teach you both?” she moaned. “Together?”

  Jakob shrugged. “I told you, Henry said this was an excellent idea.”

  Avery jumped to her feet and walked a circle around the bench.

  Perhaps this situation was not quite as bad as it first seemed. With Percival present, surely the Nordic knight would temper his words and actions. He could not attempt any sort of intimacy if she and he were not alone.

  No kisses. That idea was disappointing. And her disappointment in itself was unsettling.

  Avery put her hands on her hips and faced Jakob again. “If that is what the king commands, then I suppose I have no say.”

  “Nor I, my lady.” Jakob stood and approached her. “I confess, I look forward to Spanish, even
if Bethington is there. Any time spent with you is good.”

  Avery pulled a steadying breath. “Sit down, Jakob. There is another matter to discuss.”

  The Norseman obeyed, his expression curious.

  “I forgot to mention this yester eve,” she admitted. “Because discovering your impersonation Henry was so unexpected. But I meant to tell you what has occurred, and to ask your opinion as to what, if anything, should be done about it.”

  Jakob’s eyes were fixed on hers. “I am listening.”

  “This may be nothing. And I don’t wish to upset Catherine needlessly.”

  Jakob waited silently.

  Avery reclaimed her seat on the bench. “When I was leaving York Place on the day of casting the barre, I passed a girl cradling a large dead dog. The dog had been poisoned.”

  Jakob frowned. “Why?”

  “It was an accident.” Avery’s pulse stepped up its cadence as she recalled the girl’s words. “She said a man tripped and spilled his plate, and her dog gobbled up the food.”

  “The food was poisoned?” Jakob’s expression displayed his concern. “Who was the food meant for?”

  Avery clasped her hands together, weaving her fingers tightly. “She said, that the man said, it was for the king.”

  “Henry?” Jakob scuttled his fingers through his shortened hair. “Do you believe her?”

  “I might not have, except that—” Avery stopped, realizing that she almost revealed her relationship with Lizzy, the whore. “I heard a rumor that the arrow which grazed Henry in that hunt, was actually meant to hit him.”

  Jakob rose to his feet. “This means that the wheel was sawn through, and Henry was the target.”

  Avery gave Jakob a puzzled frown. “What wheel was sawn through?”

  Jakob blanched and, for the moment, seemed to have lost his words.

  “Henry was riding through London in his carriage,” he said after a pace. “And one wheel broke. I heard a groom tell Charles Brandon the wheel was cut.”

  Avery stared at him. “When?”

  “Before the day the dog died. Over two weeks ago.”

  “Is someone trying to kill Henry?” Avery’s voice was so tight, it bordered on shrill. “Why would they do that?”