Summer cocked an eyebrow. “How insightful, Genisa. Especially f-for you.”
Genisa wasn’t insulted in the least; Summer knew her well enough to know that her view of the world moved scarcely beyond the surface of her frivolous thoughts. “They are not my words, but Stephan’s. When you ran off last night, he was very worried and spent a good deal of the time trying to rationalize your state of mind.”
Summer lowered her head shamefully, shrugging after a time. “I do apologize for f-frightening everyone, but at the time, it was as if… as if I had to break free.” Suddenly, the crowd emitted a mighty shout and Summer’s head came up to locate the source of their excitement. It took her no time to witness Bose’s arrival at the edge of the field, mounted astride his mighty charcoal steed as several men hovered about to adjust his armor.
Instantly, her heart thumped against her ribs and she could feel the familiar heat rush to her cheeks. “B-But I do not regret my actions. Had I not run from you, I would have never met Bose.”
Genisa noted her sister-in-law’s expression as she beheld her favored knight; literally, she could read the wonder and appreciation in the woman’s eyes and it was not hard to recall the same excitement at the time she had first met Stephan. “You have only just come from him, have you not?” she asked. “What did you speak of?”
Summer continued to watch the distant knight, pondering Genisa’s question in spite of her distraction. “Nothing terribly exciting,” she said, skirting the issue. “Stephan demanded I reclaim my favor, as I said, b-but I refused to do so. Instead, Bose and I had a wonderful conversation until a situation arose that he was required to deal with.”
“Situation? What was that?”
Summer shook her head faintly, her eyes riveted to the black and white warrior. “T-truthfully, I do not know. He excused himself so quickly that I never had a chance to ask.”
Genisa mulled over the answer, watching the countenance of her sister-in-law’s demeanor. “Was he wonderful, Summer?” her voice was soft, encouraging. “Was he completely, utterly wonderful?”
Summer nodded, her gaze never leaving the massive knight. “More than wonderful, Nise. He is everything a knight should be. Everything a man should be.”
A grin graced Genisa’s lips. “When the two of you spoke, was it kindly? Did he notice your stammer?”
Eyes still fixed upon Bose, Summer nonetheless cocked a droll eyebrow in response. “A deaf man would be able to detect my stammer. He told me, in fact, that his mother suffered the same condition.” The intensity of the crowd rose again as Bose gathered his reins and paced about at the edge of the field, working off the nerves of his excitable charger. Summer’s stare never left him, a faint smile upon her lips. “Look at him, Genisa. Look at him and tell me that you do not b-believe him to be wonderful, too.”
Genisa, her own smile broadening, tore her gaze away from Summer’s awe-struck expression long enough to refocus on the black and white knight. “He is indeed wonderful, Summer.”
Summer barely heard the softly-uttered words, her thumping heart creating a deafening rush in her ears as she stared at her champion. He handled the enormous destrier with a good deal of skill and grace, Chivalry the French used to call it. Before the term meant knightly goodness and strength, it meant the precise skill of handling a warhorse. With thigh pressure, soft noises and delicate rein movements, the ability to control one’s horse masterfully was a truly impressive skill.
And Bose most definitely possessed the skill. Summer continued to watch him, entranced, when suddenly he whirled his horse in a wild circle and abruptly dug his heels into the animal’s sides. Throwing up great clods of earth, the vicious charger was suddenly bearing in her direction and Summer gasped with surprise and glee, knowing he was coming to impart a few words to her before his bout began.
Summer rose to her feet in anticipation, her hands clasped to her breast and her eyes wide. But just as she managed to leave her seat, a familiar chestnut charger bearing red and white standards suddenly veered into Bose’s path, the horses nearly colliding in what would have surely been a devastating accident.
Bose was nearly unseated but managed to regain his balance quite nicely, raising his visor to his interceptor. Banking his fury with almost being pitched from his warhorse, he braced himself for the discouragement he knew was sure to come.
Stephan, however, was not so adept at hiding his anger. Visor secured, Bose could easily imagine the expression behind the menacing voice. “I told you to stay away from her, de Moray,” Stephan growled. “I meant it.”
Bose continued to struggle with his nervous charger. “But she does not share your opinion. And I continue to carry her favor.”
“I know you do. However you managed to convince her that your reputation and intentions are completely innocent, know that I am not as gullible as she is. I’ll not have an alleged murderer pursuing my sister and you would do well to heed my warning.”
A flicker of emotion crossed Bose’s face, as quickly vanished. “I am well aware of the rumors spread about my dark past, that I murdered my wife to gain her inheritance. But I swear upon God’s Holy Order that the rumors regarding such nonsense are completely false.”
Beneath the visor, Stephan continued to glare at him. However, it was difficult not to sense his candor; Bose’s tone was steady, his manner calm. There was nothing within the bottomless black depths that suggested anything other than the undeniable truth.
Stephan was not an unreasonable man. But four years of gossip had imbedded itself within his thoughts more deeply than he cared to admit. In his defense, however, within that time Bose had done nothing to reject the wild myths, feeding them instead with his stand-offish manner and self-isolation.
Whereas the majority of circuit knights were friendly and cordial to varying degrees, Bose severed himself from all social contact. No one truly knew the man, making it extremely easy to consider the hearsay. Unlatching his three piece helm, Stephan slowly raised the gleaming visor.
“Why tell me now?” his voice was oddly strained. “The information has been prevalent for four years, de Moray. Why vindicate yourself now?”
Bose’s gaze trailed to the luscious woman standing atop the lodges, her long hair gently wafting in the breeze. “I never cared what others thought until now,” tearing his eyes away, he refocused on the wary brother. “Believe me, Stephan. I never killed my wife. ’Twas a vicious rumor invented by my mother-in-law to damage my chances on the tournament circuit. My wife died in childbirth and her mother has made it her goal in life to wreak misery upon me.”
Stephan regarded him for a moment. “But I have also heard tale that you resigned your position as Captain of the King’s Guard in disgrace because of your wife’s death. What do you say to that?”
“I resigned my post because of the memories associated with it. I had met my wife while serving as Captain of the Guard. Our Henry was quite disappointed in my departure, in fact. He was terribly fond of me.”
Stephan continued to meet his gaze, fighting against the mounting indecision gripping his heart. As an honorable knight, he should believe the man without question and allow him to pursue the woman of his choice. But as the protective brother, he could not give himself permission to accept the knight’s explanation. At least, not yet.
The peal of the trumpet sounded over the field, announcing the approach of the first bout. Bose’s gaze was torn between Stephan’s dubious expression and Summer’s distant form.
“Just a word, Stephan, before the joust,” his voice was nearly a whisper. “One word and I shall vacate immediately. Please.”
Stephan sighed faintly, irritated with his confusion and wondering why he could not seem to overcome the gossip he had professed to disregard.
“Nay,” his eventual reply was muted. “Not now. Mayhap… later. I must think on it.”
Bose emitted a heavy sigh, disappointed. “Very well,” his voice was calm and resigned. “I shall obey your wishes this time.
However, I….”
His word were abruptly cut short and Stephan watched, startled, as the knight’s normally expressionless face took on a countenance of such ferocity that Stephan immediately turned to see what had disturbed him so.
Breck Kerry was poised before the lodges, speaking with Summer.
*
Summer had never seen him coming. One moment, she was gazing at Stephan and Bose in deep conversation and in the next, a knight bearing green and yellow standards was immediately before her. His armor was beautiful, his banners unsullied with dirt or flaw, and atop his elaborate helm was the image of a great horned beast.
Startled by the unexpected appearance, she took a step away and openly studied the man. For a moment, no one spoke, and then the knight reached up to raise his visor. A pale, pock-marked face and small blue eyes gazed back at her intensely. When he smiled, it was only to reveal large, slightly green teeth.
“My lady,” he said, his voice medium-pitched. “My name is Sir Breck Kerry. I am competing in the first round and was hoping if you have not yet given your favor to anyone, that you would graciously consider my solicitation.”
Summer did not like any aspect of the pale-faced, foul-breathed knight. Not his manners, nor his looks, nor the strangely annoying quality to his speaking tone. When she cleared her throat in a firm attempt to discourage him, Edward suddenly appeared at his daughter’s side, his round face taut.
“The lady is not dispensing favors, Sir Breck,” he said with more fortitude that Summer had heard in a long while. “Choose another.”
Breck, however, was undeterred and dipped his head gallantly in the baron’s direction. “My lord,” he greeted. “My brother informed me this morn that the delightful creature seated next to you at yesterday’s melee was your only daughter. Since I was unaware the du Bonne brothers had a sister, I was merely attempting to introduce myself.”
Edward eyed the aggressive knight; he knew him to be the man who had broken Stephan’s wrist last year and in spite of his callous attitude in matters pertaining to his children, found himself leaping to Summer’s defense….
“They do indeed,” he replied coldly. “If you will excuse us, sir knight, the joust is about to commence.”
Breck continued to eye Summer, then Genisa when the woman took a position beside her sister-in-law and clutched her protectively. His small blue eyes raked Genisa suggestively before returning to Summer.
“I understand your father’s concern, Lady Summer. Even so, my intentions are purely honorable,” he said with mock sincerity. “Have you indeed given your favor this day?”
Before anyone could stop her, Summer stepped forward in a fit of disgust. “I have given my f-favor to Sir Bose,” she said. “Now, please go. I have no desire to speak with you.”
The smile on Breck’s lips faded with unnatural swiftness. He continued to stare at her, digesting the flaw she had been unashamed to display with her insolent tongue. Instantly, his excitement and lust banked as he pondered her defect; God’s Blood, what a tragedy her condition exhibited for, certainly, she was terribly beautiful. But with her flagrant stammer, she was as worthless as a three-legged cow and his disappointment settled.
His discouragement, however, was of little matter; the fact remained that the lady and Bose were attracted to one another, so much so that she had given him her favor. And the fact that Breck had sworn to avenge his failing in the melee against Bose merely fed his determination to sway her opinion against the mighty knight.
“I… I apologize if I have offended you, my lady,” he said as genuinely as he was able. “I had no idea that you and Sir Bose were… well, that is to say, I am distressed to learn that you have allowed a knight of such questionable character to bear your favor.”
Summer’s gaze was unnaturally piercing. “Sir Bose is a perfect knight and I am proud to have him b-bear my favor.”
Breck gave her his best anxious expression. “But he is a… God’s Blood, dare I say it? His reputation toward the fairer sex is certainly not the most solid.”
Summer cocked an eyebrow, angered and shaken with the knight’s implication. Good Lord, did everyone know of the lies regarding Bose’s past? Cheeks flushed, she tried her best not to shout her defensive reply.
“And the rumors you refer to are nothing but a pack of malicious f-fabrications,” she said, her voice acquiring an odd quiver. “Sir Bose never killed his wife. She died in childbirth.”
Breck’s eyes widened with mock concern. “And he told you this version of the truth, my lady?”
“He did. And you will believe him w-without question.”
Breck blinked innocently, as if digesting her forceful statement. Clearing his throat delicately, in a fashion suggesting he was shocked by the entire conversation, he shook his head feebly.
“My lady, did it not occur to you that he would parlay any convenient tale so that you would disbelieve the reality of his darker reputation? Surely you realize that a smitten man will do or say anything to gain your trust,” his gaze moved to Edward, round and short and perspiring under the bright morning sun. “My lord, you must protect your daughter from de Moray’s evil. I fear that….”
Breck’s words were abruptly cut short by the powerful thunder of hooves, startling his warhorse and causing the animal to dance about nervously. Summer was vaguely aware of a red and white banner before her as the brilliant sunlight reflected off portions of plate armor, nearly blinding her.
Amidst the red and white and bolts of silver, however, she caught a glimpse of black and white. The very next she realized, Breck Kerry lay on the ground and Bose was already dismounted, stalking the downed knight.
The tension in the air was unmistakable as the crowd in the lodges jockeyed for a better position from which to watch the extra-curricular event. Summer was aware that Stephan had placed himself between his sister and the green and yellow knight, his powerful warhorse snorting and foaming. She heard Genisa gasp as Bose reached down and grasped Breck by the neck, heaving the man to his feet in one effortless motion.
Summer was truly shocked by the swiftness of the entire event, but her surprise had not robbed her of her senses. Grasping her skirts, she dashed to the edge of the platform where Bose was preparing to deal Breck a harsh lesson.
“Bose!” she cried softly. “What are you d-doing?”
At the sound of her sweet, shaken voice, Bose’s helmed head immediately turned in her direction. With Breck still clutched in one massive gauntlet, he raised his visor with the other.
“I am preparing to punish him for speaking to you,” he said frankly. “Did he offend you, my lady? Was his manner bold and intolerable?”
Gazing into his piercing black eyes, Summer’s astonishment faded as a tremendous sense of flattery took hold. Aye, Stephan and Ian and Lance had punished her tormenters and old Kermit the tutor had been quite free with his cane when he deciphered a slanderous insult toward his young charge. But her thanks for their shielding behavior had never mounted to the warm, fluid excitement she was feeling with Bose’s chivalry.
She could not help the smile that creased her lips. “Nay, my lord, he was not b-bold or aggressive toward me. Truly, there is no need to punish him, though I thank you deeply for your concern.”
Bose paused a moment, his face unreadable, before releasing Breck completely. The knight stumbled back, rubbing at his neck and glaring daggers at the massive warrior at least a head taller than himself.
“Damn you, de Moray,” he hissed. “Your foolish heroics were uncalled for. There is no law against my speaking to the lady.”
Planted between his sister and the two scuffling knights, Stephan cocked an eyebrow as he joined the conversation. “Nay, Kerry, there is no law against you speaking with my sister. But I will only tell you one time; stay clear of her. If I ever see you speaking or even so much as looking in her direction, you’ll most certainly not like my reaction.”
Breck’s gaze was even as he beheld Stephan with small blue eye
s. “Yet you would allow de Moray, a known murderer, to bear your sister’s favor. Most strange, Sir Stephan.”
Although Bose did not react, Stephan drew in a long, intolerant breath. “If I must make a choice between the two of you, I suppose I would rather see Sir Bose bear my sister’s favor,” unwilling to say any more, he reined his charger in the opposite direction and motioned to the heralds at the corner of the field. “I believe you gentle knights are scheduled to joust. Mayhap you can settle your dispute with the aid of a lance in your grip.”
Bose immediately turned away from Breck and regained his steed, mounting effortlessly. Breck, still shaking off the shock of having been unseated quite brutally, moved slowly to his snorting mount and cuffed the horse when it snapped at him. Emitting a yelp when his unprotected wrist made contact with the strip of armor secured to the horse’s face, he grumbled and grunted angrily as he mounted his charger.
As the two opposing knights fumbled with their destriers and equipment, Stephan returned his attention briefly to his sister. Summer smiled faintly at her eldest brother.
“Thank you for your intervention,” she said softly, fumbling for an apology. “And I…I am sorry for my hateful words, Stephan. I never meant to b-be….”
He put up a quieting hand, matching her smile in spite of the anger and arguing that had taken place earlier. No amount of fury and quarreling could dampen the true sibling affection they held for one another and Stephan knew that in spite of his bewilderment regarding de Moray, Summer would most likely have a champion for the rest of the tournament.
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, touching her pink cheek. “Do not fret; we shall discuss it later,” turning to his wife, he quickly motioned her over. “Come here, love, and give me a kiss. I have got to vacate the field before I am mistakenly gored by an eager competitor.”
Obediently, Genisa rushed to her husband and kissed him sensually on the lips. His eyes closed at her tender touch and, smiling, he kissed her again. Gently caressing her silken face for a brief, distracted moment, he nonetheless cast a final glance at Bose before slamming his visor shut and spurring his charger across the field in a rush of flying dirt and grass.
Medieval Romantic Legends Page 12