Before Arik could make the introduction, Rebeka curtsied. “I am…” She stood still. She looked at Arik and briefly closed her eyes. She would let Arik introduce her.
Arik gave her an appreciative smile. He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of her wrist. “Sir Stuart, this is my guest, Rebeka Tyler from London.”
Rebeka didn’t know what to say. She could not get her mind off what he was doing to her wrist. The small circles he drew soothed and comforted her and were somewhat erotic. She tried to pull her hand away but he would have none of that. She didn’t try overly hard.
“Good day, Rebeka Tyler. I am pleased to meet you,” Stuart offered with a nod. “Arik, you better warn Logan. My wife is determined to make him a match with our Holly. They like each other well enough.” Stuart smiled.
“Stuart, leave it to them to decide. Liking is not good enough for a lifelong commitment. Let them spend some time together. If the liking grows then there may be hope. You know nothing would please me more.”
His remark startled her. She understood his desire for a deep lifelong commitment. It was a value she cherished. Still, she hadn’t expected it of him. Although when she thought about it, wasn’t his devotion to his family and villagers a clear sign?
Logan approached Arik. “Brother, the men are calling you for the wrestling match. Will you take their challenge?”
Stuart whispered to Rebeka. “This is an annual event. He’ll take on any man. He never loses. Watch how this spectacle plays out. I enjoy it more each year.”
Arik made his way to the top of the steps as Marcus approached from below. “M’lord,” he shouted. Everyone quieted. “M’lord, your men and Sir Stuart’s have planned a wrestling tournament to see who amongst them is the strongest. We ask you be judge.” The crowd remained quiet to hear their lord’s response.
“How would I judge?” Arik’s eyes lit in mock surprise.
“Why, Lord Arik, trial by might, of course,” Marcus answered with a big grin and a slight bow.
Soft whispers ran through the crowd. “Will Lord Arik take the challenge? Will he wrestle the winner?”
Arik looked to be in deep concentration. His brows were furrowed and he stroked his chin. Everyone waited for several minutes. Rebeka enjoyed the suspense and tension that built and, she suspected, Arik enjoyed it too. Finally, he answered.
“I will wrestle, but…” he let the but hang there for a dramatic effect, “…for a lady’s favor.” The crowd gasped in surprise. Even Stuart looked startled.
Katherine preened. Pulling out her handkerchief, she raised her hand and took a step forward.
Arik turned to Aubrey. “My lady, will you give me a favor I may carry with me into battle?”
Aubrey was speechless. She stared at him perplexed.
“Well, princess,” he whispered, bending down to her. “You have to say something.”
She beamed at her uncle. “Lord Arik, you are my champion. I give you my scarf to wear as your favor.”
Once again, the crowd cheered. Arik bowed slightly to Aubrey and received her scarf. “Well done, princess.” He gently kissed her cheek.
Tying the scarf around his thigh, he strutted down the stairs to join his men. The crowd followed them through the village and out to the lake.
Several hours and tankards of ale later, it was time for Arik to “judge” the final wrestler. He stood with Stuart, Beatrice and Rebeka. “Rebeka, hold these for me.” He took off his jacket and shirt and gave them to her. He took off his boots. He took Aubrey’s scarf off his thigh. “Tie this around my arm.”
She took the scarf from him and began to tie it around his arm. When her fingers touched his skin a charge raced through her, and her cheeks grew hot. Her eyes traveled to his hard body. He had a golden tan and well-defined muscles that rippled when they moved and was marked with tattoos. The tattoos held her enthralled. They were runes and ancient symbols. They started below his right shoulder blade, traveled up and over his shoulder, down the right side of his chest, and disappeared into his britches. Her fingers itched to touch the runes. She tied the scarf around his arm and patted her palm on his chest. “Don’t hurt him too much.”
He gave her a big smile and entered the circle.
The men got into their starting positions, crouching, feet offset, and arms shoulder-width apart. They circled, sized each other up and searched for an opportunity to strike. Nickolas struck first. He ducked and dove for Arik’s legs. With quick reflexes, Arik sprawled kicking his legs out and pushed down on Nickolas’ back. The two got up and reset.
They circled again. This time, Arik made the strike. He cleared Nickolas’ hands, breaking his defense, and wrapped his arms around Nickolas’ legs. Arik climbed back to his feet and draped Nickolas over his shoulder. Nicholas struggled to get back to the ground but Arik’s arm snaked around his opponent’s neck. With one fluid motion, Arik twisted and slammed Nickolas to the ground, pinning his shoulders. The crowd roared. Both men had tankards of ale shoved into their hands. They drank and laughed. One down and two to go. They began again.
“Sir Stuart, do you wrestle?” Rebeka asked while she watched.
“Not for the last several years. The wrestling match is the highlight of the festival and was always between Arik and me. We’ve been friends since boyhood and have always challenged one another. We would drive our parents mad with our mischief. Our festival matches always ended in a draw. Several years ago, it was difficult to maintain a draw. My friend gets stronger every year while I, he tells me, grow fatter.” She stared at Stuart in disbelief. There was not an ounce of fat on his body. He looked as robust and capable as Arik. They returned their attention to the match.
“Don’t believe him,” Holly told her as she and Rebeka walked around the circle to get a better view of the match. Stuart was off speaking to a neighbor.
Arik caught Nickolas in a headlock.
“My father is as good a wrestler as Arik. Several years ago, my brother was playacting a wrestling match with his friend. They were only young boys and didn’t know their strength or the dangers. Roric died. My father felt it was his fault and hasn’t wrestled since.”
“But, Holly, it was only a terrible accident. It wasn’t his fault.”
“Yes, we know but in his heart it’s something else.”
The cheering and whooping climaxed.
“We must have a winner,” Stuart called as he walked up to the women.
Arik gave Nickolas a hand up off the ground. Nickolas bowed slightly and Arik clapped him on the back. Someone called for more ale and both men were handed tankards. Rivulets of ale cascaded down the sides of their chins, splashing on their muddy chests as they drained the ale dry.
Rebeka met up with Arik at the Pall Mall game.
“The next stroke is yours,” said Arik.
Rebeka, mallet in hand, studied her ball and took careful aim. She adjusted her stance, turned slightly and took a solid swing. The crowd of players and onlookers watched her ball fly over the ground, bouncing over ruts. It looked like her ball would fly off the course but to everyone’s amazement, it hit Arik’s ball and stopped abruptly teetering on the edge of a precipice. Arik’s ball, squarely hit, went off the course and down the slide.
“Well, m’lord, I’m so sorry to have hit your ball and sent it flying.” She sashayed up to him and laid her hand gently on his chest. “I’ll wait for you at the final hoop.” She smiled.
He raised his eyebrow, gave her a most charming smile and took her hand. “Oh, m’lady, it won’t take me long to be back at your side. My ball will fly to be near yours,” he teased nodding graciously to her. Rebeka heard a collective intake of breath from the crowd and turned in time to watch her ball begin to slip from its spot. Little by little, it rolled until it toppled off the edge and landed next to Arik’s ball, nudging it slightly.
Rebeka turned to Arik, a stunned look on her face. They both let out a peal of laughter.
Arik placed his mallet over his
shoulder, turned and extended his arm to Rebeka. “Shall we, m’lady?”
She shouldered her mallet and took his arm. “Most certainly, m’lord.” They found Arik’s ball first. It sat brazenly in the open waiting for him. Rebeka’s ball was another story. After nudging Arik’s ball, it rolled farther down the hill into a clump of nettles. Arik helped her look for her ball, using his mallet to sweep away and hold back the bushes as she searched.
“Be careful, the nettles will sting.” He pulled her back from the bush.
She stepped back on an unsteady spot to avoid one bush but was accosted by another tangling her hair.
“Here, let me help you,” he said. “Put your arms around me to keep steady while I work your hair loose.”
She slipped her arms around his waist and rested her forehead on his chest while he worked to untangle her hair. She nestled her head closer to him as he struggled to free her. Lost in the sensation, she became aware of a sudden change. She picked up her head and found him staring at her, gently caressing her hair.
“Have you set me free, m’lord?” Her voice was a whisper.
His hand caressed her cheek. He looked into her eyes, a wistful look on his face. “I untangled your tresses a while ago. You seemed to be enjoying your rest. I didn’t want to…I didn’t want to stop.”
“Oh.” The mystery in his eyes held her captive. “But I must find my ball,” she muttered hastily, her eyes never leaving his.
“It’s right here,” he said, pointing only a few feet away.
She stepped back. It was too easy to get lost in the way he looked at her.
“We best move on before they send out a search party for us.” The huskiness was apparent in his voice.
The trek up the slide was comical as they both tried to keep the other from succeeding. Their laughter echoed through the hills. When they reached the end of the course, Logan stood there leaning on his mallet, a smirk on his face and the first-place ribbon in his hand.
“You played a good game.” Arik bowed to her. “You were a worthy opponent.”
She bobbed a curtsy. “You too, m’lord.” She gave him her best impish smile. “Although I did finish before you.”
He took a violet ribbon, shot through with silver, out of his pocket. He reached behind her, his fingers barely brushing the skin on the nape of her neck, and tied back her hair. “I may not be with you the next time you’re captured by the nettles. I send you into battle with my protection.” His hands lingered a bit before he took them away.
She couldn’t think of anything to say. There was more to this man than she originally thought.
Chapter Nineteen
Rebeka stood in a fine dark brown wool gown. The sleeves tapered into a fine point over her hands. Jeannie made silk thread loops to go over her middle finger to keep them in place. The damaged neckline was reshaped into a daring plunge. A border of strategically placed intricate lace stitched around the neckline. The iridescence of the lace complemented her violet eyes. Small luminous seed pearls were scattered across the skirt to hide the spots that could not be removed. They caught the light as Rebeka moved.
“Jeannie, what a change in Arik.”
“A change?” Jeannie worked at closing the back of the gown.
“Yes, he didn’t give me one sneer all day.”
“M’lady, he wasn’t any different today than he usually is. He only sneers when he has to. You’ve only seen a part of him and not the whole man. There now. All closed up. One minute, I have the finishing touch for you.”
Always like this?
Jeannie walked behind Rebeka and placed something around her neck.
“What’s this?”
“It was a gift from Lady Leticia. She gave it to me many years ago, m’lady. It has lain in its pouch unworn for a long time. I’ve no need to wear it in the kitchen and it would give me pleasure to see you wear it.” She finished closing the clasp.
Rebeka looked in the mirror at a large solitary amber sapphire on a gold chain. It hung low on her neck cradled in the cleft of her breasts.
“Shouldn’t you give this to Skylar to wear?”
“Skylar doesn’t wear jewels, m’lady. She’s young and has it in her mind the only jewels she’ll wear are those given to her by her one true love.”
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you for…everything.”
“Ladies, dinner is served,” Doward said on the other side of the door.
Jeannie waved away the comment with a flick of her hand. “I just made some alterations. You make the dress.” She answered the door. “Coming, Doward.”
Rebeka took one last look in the mirror.
Doward stood in the doorway, a stunned expression on his face. He looked her up and down.
“I can’t wait to escort you into the hall and see everyone’s reaction.” He rubbed his hands together in excitement. “This is going to be a festival to remember.” He extended his arm to her. “M’lady, if you please.”
“Lord Arik, wonderful party, sir, wonderful. I always look forward to your harvest festival. It reminds me of my youth and your parents. Yes, always a good time.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m glad you returned from His Majesty in time to attend.” Arik handed his neighbor a tankard from the passing tray.
“I think the old boy kept me on tenterhooks just to worry me. But he finally relented and I quickly took my leave. He does send you his good wishes.”
Arik nodded as he raised his glass. “To the king.”
Both men took a deep swallow. The man pushed his way through the throng of people.
Katherine made a grand entrance. She wore a gown of virginal white brocade which was a bit overworked for the festival but Arik had to admit she wore it well, even though the color made her look paler than usual.
Arik moved through the crowd exchanging a word with as many neighbors as he could. Deep in conversation with Stuart, he noticed his friend was no longer listening. Stuart’s attention was focused somewhere behind him. Arik turned.
Rebeka stood at the entrance to the room, Doward holding her arm as if to keep her from entering. As Arik watched, they moved forward.
She was the most beautiful woman Arik had ever seen. And she was heading straight for him.
“Doward, m’lady.” Arik nodded at Doward but his eyes never left Rebeka.
“Lord Arik.” Rebeka greeted him with a deep well-executed curtsy.
He took Rebeka’s hand. His eyes swept up from the hem of her skirt to the violet ribbon in her hair. “It suits you, Rebeka.” He spoke of the ribbon but his eyes were riveted on the jewel nestled nicely in the cleft of her breasts. How I envy that tawny sapphire. The sparkling gem glistened on her skin. It was tucked between breasts that swelled above the lace bodice of her dress, teasing him. One word echoed in his head…mine.
She stared at him, speechless. Her name sounded like music coming from his lips. He had never spoken it out loud before. His thumb once again made small circles on her wrists. Finally, she gathered her wits. “Yes, m’lord, I wear your token proudly, I regret not having a consolation prize for you. Logan beat us both soundly.”
He still held her hand.
“I think we were too busy trying to best each other and lost track of the real threat.” His laugh sent shivers up her spine. “The ribbon goes well with your eyes, m’lady.”
The sensual nature of their chatter made her heart flutter and she was conscious that the smolder in his eyes made her knees weak.
“I enjoyed the games today and your company,” she blurted out “I see why Aubrey enjoys the festival so much.”
He walked her to her chair and—reluctantly, she thought—released her hand.
“Until later,” he said. He took his seat at the table, a sign for everyone to sit.
There was applause as the feast began—the dishes lavishly paraded about the large semicircle of tables by the staff.
Platters of cooked fruit spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg started the display. The
aromas of rosemary, garlic and thyme leaked out from under the cover of the roasted beef and the mutton sent tendrils of musty sage and tangy mint into the air. The smell of stewed chicken sweetened with the fragrance of plums and honey permeated the air. Delicious roasted vegetables, breads and cheeses were displayed. Last out of the kitchen were the desserts. Cakes, fruit tarts, puddings and hot apple bread pudding completed the pageant, making mouths water.
Rebeka chose an orange from a handsomely decorated bowl. Arik couldn’t take his eyes off her as she closed her eyes and slowly savored the sweet fruit. He stifled a moan when she licked her fingers before dipping them into the finger bowl. The satisfied look on her face made him fidget in his seat. It was a small torture he didn’t want to stop.
“She’s a beauty,” Stuart said at his side.
“Who?” Arik said before taking a swallow of wine. He hoped it burned. It would take the edge off the other sensation that ran rampant in his body.
Stuart jerked his head around and stared at Arik, bewildered. The smirk on Arik’s face gave him away. Stuart broke out in a loud laugh.
“She carries herself with confidence,” Stuart remarked. “Like a royal.” He took a liberal sip of his drink. “She has better table manners than the king,” he added.
“Stuart, anyone has better table manners than the king.” Arik took another long drink. There was another round of laughter. Over the rim of his goblet, he stole another glance at her. The wisp of a fire that started when he first saw her walk in was now dangerously close to a full-grown blaze. He put his empty goblet on the table.
“More wine, m’lord?”
Arik handed Luke his goblet in answer.
The meal over, everyone gathered on the torch-lit terrace to enjoy the entertainment. Off in the field, the hulking pile of wood was a dark shadow awaiting its moment. The echoing strains of a flute and mandolin played in the background. Rebeka took a seat and reveled in the familiar feeling of sitting around a campfire.
Knight of Runes Page 18