Loving the Knight: Book 2: Eryndal & Andrew (The Hansen Series: Rydar & Grier and Eryndal & Andrew)

by Kris Tualla

  The lower level of the manor was quiet. Drew ran Jamie to ground in the kitchen and the steward promised to bring him food in the Hall. Drew waited there by the fire, knees bouncing with energy, and wondered where Eryn might be.

  “Lady Bell came down earlier, but I believe she is indisposed at the moment,” Jamie answered Drew’s query.

  “Indisposed?” Drew frowned. Did I hurt her?

  “Yes. Is there something I might help ye with?” Jamie asked.

  Drew waved his hand, hoping he appeared unconcerned. “No. Well. I—we are leaving for London in a few days—two days—Kennan and I, and we might require a few provisions for the journey.”

  Jamie nodded. “I can provide ye with anything you need, Lord Drummond. Ye’ve only to let me know.”

  Shite. Drew dipped his chin. “Thank ye, Jamie. I will.”

  After the steward left, Drew ate his meat pies and drank his ale in a considerably darkened mood. How was Eryn ‘indisposed’? Was she hurt? Or was she embarrassed? She could not be angry, of that he was certain. The second time had been her idea, after all. And she peaked with as much intensity as the first.

  Drew tossed the last half of the pie into the fire, drained the mug of ale, and headed for the stables.

  Chapter Fourteen

  December 30, 1354

  It was nearly dark when Drew reentered the manor. His muscles were already sore from the day’s long ride, but he and Kennan needed the horses ready to travel again. As much as he and his vassal had enjoyed the luxury of warm beds and frequent meals, so had the destriers. They had all become soft. And the journey to London was hard.

  “I shall send yer supper up to yer room, Lord Drummond,” Jamie offered when Drew entered the kitchen door.

  “Lady Eryn?” he asked without pause.

  “She’s no’ feeling well.” No other explanation was offered.

  “Thank ye,” Drew grumbled.

  He climbed the stairs and went straight to her chamber door. He hesitated only a moment afore bouncing a knuckle against the planks.

  “Come,” a soft voice beckoned.

  Drew pushed the door open and peered around it. “Eryn?”

  A rustle of sheets ensued behind her bed curtains afore she murmured, “Drew? You may enter.”

  He walked to the center of the room as she pulled back the curtains. Purple smudges under her eyes stood out against pale cheeks. A tray of untouched food sat on a table by the bed.

  “Are ye ill?” Drew asked, alarmed.

  She gave him a wan smile. “No.”

  “Did I—hurt ye?” he managed.

  Eryn chuckled at that. “Of course not! Did I appear to be hurt?”

  Her tongue was, apparently, fully functional. “Then what has happened?”

  Pink crept into her cheeks. “It’s my cycle. And it’s painful.”

  “Cycle? Oh!” Drew felt his face warming as well.

  “It seems our timing could not have been improved on,” she said softly. “Tonight would have been too late.”

  Relief and disappointment battled for position in Drew’s response. “Does it last long?” seemed to employ both empathy and inquiry.

  “Four days, as a rule. Sometimes five.” She paused and picked at her blankets, her gaze now fixed on her hands. “And you’ll be gone in two.”

  Though keeping the open door in sight, Drew stepped closer to the bed. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said intently. So very, very sorry.

  She sighed. “You cannot be sorrier than I, I assure you.” Her fingers still worried the blankets and commanded her attention.

  “Was it as ye hoped it would be, then?” he pressed.

  She shook her head. Her hair fell forward and covered her face. “No.”

  “No?” Drew straightened. He wanted to mention that he was out of practice, having been celibate for years. But that just sounded like a feeble excuse even in his own mind.

  Eryn scooped her hair out of the way and looked up at him. Her eyes shone with tears that had not yet chosen to leap down her cheeks. “Oh, Drew, it was so much more.”

  The open door be damned.

  Drew closed the distance between them and knelt on the bed. He pulled Eryn to him and kissed her with all the tenderness and desire that raced through his veins and set him ablaze. She tasted of ale—or maybe that was him. He smelled the lavender soap from her bath yester eve, and the musk of their swiving. She was warm and soft and she snuggled against him. He almost lay down with her on the bed afore he found himself again.

  “I must go. Someone might come,” he croaked.

  “Yes,” she breathed, with no discernable conviction whatsoever.

  Drew stood, kissed the back of her hand, and quickly left the room or he’d swive her again anyway.

  January 1, 1355

  Drew carried a single candle into Liam’s bed chamber long afore the sun rose.

  “Young William, awaken!” he whispered. When the boy didn’t respond, Drew shook him gently. “Young William, I have something for ye.”

  Liam grunted and jammed his fists into his eyes. “What?”

  “Sit up.”

  Liam’s hands fell away and he squinted at Drew. “What?”

  “Sit up. I have something for ye.”

  The boy struggled with his covers until he was sitting up. He shoved unruly red locks out of his eyes. “Something for me?” he squeaked.

  “Aye. And it’s a secret, see. That’s why I’ve come to ye under the cover of night.”

  Liam’s eyes rounded and he seemed fully awake at last. “What is it?”

  Drew looked around, as if to make certain no one else heard, though the manor was deeply asleep. He pulled a leather thong from inside his shirt. It was strung through an old Roman coin. Cast of bronze, the worn coin was heavy and dark. It shone dully in the candlelight.

  “Do ye ken what this is?” he asked Liam.

  Liam shook his head, his eyes fixed on the treasure.

  “It’s an ancient coin, from the days when Roman warriors lived here.” Drew let the coin twist a little as he held it near the candle.

  “Oh,” Liam breathed, transfixed.

  “Now there’s many around, yet. That’s no’ what makes this one special.”

  Liam’s brown eyes jumped to Drew’s. “What does?”

  Drew lowered the coin so he could be certain Liam was listening. “It’s because I found it over by Liddell Strength—and I am a knight of the king who tore that fortress down.”

  “Ye are?” Liam’s expression showed a whole new level of awe over Drew.

  “Aye. And because of that, this coin gives me the power to make a knight of someone.” Drew paused to give Liam a moment to grip that thought before he added, “And I choose ye.”

  “Me?” Liam yelped.

  “Shhh.” Drew looked around the room again. “It’s a secret, remember? Ye can no’ tell anyone. Not until ye are of age and ye come to me.”

  The boy’s brow furrowed. “How long is that?”

  Drew picked the number that coincided with William’s assumption of the estate; if the boy still wished to become a knight, at least he could fund his own training and outfitting. “Twelve years.”

  “That’s too long!” he complained.

  “No, young William. Ye need to grow. And ye need to learn your lessons well from Mister Macintyre.” Drew leaned closer. “And ye need to be proven worthy.”

  Liam’s features twisted skeptically. “How?”

  “Ye need to be the man of this estate. Take care of the chickens and the sheep. No more mischief, do ye hear?” Drew growled.

  Liam paled in the candlelight and nodded.

  “Because if I hear ye are not, or that ye are disrespecting the Lady Eryn, then I will no’ honor the coin should ye bring it to me. Do ye understand me?”

  “Aye,” he whispered.

  “All right, then.” Drew looped the thong over Liam’s head. “The knighthood is our secret. If ye tell anyone, they won’t know of
such things and will call ye daft. So be silent about that part.”

  Liam reached up and clasped the heavy coin against his chest. “Yes, sir.”

  Drew pointed at the pendant. “Ye can tell them I gave ye the coin, of course. Only say nothing of the promise it carries.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Drew tousled William’s hair. “I’ll be leaving in the morning. I must go to King David in London and finish my duties.”

  “Will ye come back?” Liam’s lower lip quivered and he tucked it behind his teeth.

  “I can no’ promise, ye understand? The King decides these things.” Drew rubbed his upper lip. “I will if I can.”

  “When?” Liam pressed.

  “Months, at the least. Might be a year. ‘Tis a long way to go, and a long way back. And I have no idea what King David will ask of me.”

  “I will miss ye, sir,” Liam whispered.

  Drew pulled the boy into an enveloping hug. He kissed the top of William’s head. “And I’ll miss ye, son.”

    

  “I’ll come back,” Drew promised.

  “Don’t say that. And don’t even think that.” Eryn glared up at him. “I told you, we have no future.”

  “Even after—”

  She spun around in a whirl of cloak and skirts and stomped across the courtyard, toward the manor and away from him. He strode after her, hurrying to catch up to her long stride. “Eryn!”

  She stopped but she didn’t turn around. He stepped in front of her. Her eyes were downcast, red rimmed, and leaking. Her lips were pressed so tightly they were colorless.

  “Why will ye no’ tell me, lass?” he prodded.

  Her lips loosened long enough to allow, “I’m no lass. I’m a grown woman with a life that you cannot be part of.”

  He was completely flummoxed. None of this made any sense! Damned stubborn English wench.

  “Now go. Get on your way. Go tell the King what he needs to hear.” She blinked several times and twisted her fingers around each other until they lost color as well. “And then you’ll do exactly what he tells you to do.”

  She turned and walked away, lifting her head and squaring her shoulders, and presenting a confident image to any who watched. Drew was so angry, he was shaking. He stormed back toward Kennan and the horses when he caught sight of Geoffrey standing off to the side of the courtyard and staring at him.

  Drew changed his directions and approached the man so suddenly that Geoff fell back.

  “Ye’ve won,” Drew growled.

  Geoff looked shocked. “What?”

  “The Lady Eryndal Bell has refused me. She is yours for the taking.” The words tasted like bitter brine on his tongue; he could not believe he was saying them. “See that ye deserve her.”

  Drew threw himself into the saddle and kicked his steed to a run.

    

  Somehow, Eryn lived through the remainder of the day.

  She moved through her tasks. She managed to smile, at the least with her mouth. Her eyes must look dead because she felt dead inside. Perhaps she had made a mistake. A grave error in judgment. She seriously underestimated the impact of bedding Lord Andrew Drummond on both her emotions and her body.

  Her emotions were in a shambles. The knight was the perfect man, as far as she was concerned. Intelligent, courteous, strong, capable, engaging, and clean. And now she longed for his companionship in ways she never imagined she would. Taking her suppers back in the kitchen would pale by comparison to their nightly conversations in the dining room.

  But her body was worse. Every time she thought of Drew naked, walking around the end of the bed toward the fire, her belly tensed and the juncture of her thighs warmed disturbingly. She slipped into the servants’ staircase and tried to rub the sensation away.

  She did not succeed.

  The worst of her situation was that knowing once Drew talked to King David, there was a very good chance that Drew would ride back onto the estate and arrest her for treason. And that was only because he thought she was the Lady Bell with rights to that title. If he had any idea she claimed the title without legal justification, she might be hung on the spot.

  She could not risk being here if he ever returned.

  But she had no idea where she would go.

  Geoffrey approached her in the afternoon while she was airing the bedclothes from the master’s chamber. The day was dry and cold with a breeze and a hazy sun, and she hoped it would do. She saw him coming but pretended she didn’t, praying he had another destination in mind.

  “Eryn?”

  Shite. This day was not going to get better.

  “Hello, Geoff.” She reached up to the rope and adjusted a hanging blanket that didn’t need adjusting just so she had something to look at other than him.

  “Are ye well?”

  She did stop and look at him then. “Why would I not be well?”

  Geoff pinned her with a narrow gaze. “Jamie said ye were abed the other day.”

  “Yes. I was.” Already distressed by Drew’s departure, she would not give this man an inch. “And now I’m not.”

  He shifted his stance as if to come from a different direction. “Will ye no’ tell me what was wrong?”

  Eryn stepped away from the blankets and folded her arms across her chest. “You are old enough to know about women, Geoff. Think on it.”

  At least he has the decency to blush.

  “Forgive me, Eryn. I thought—never mind.”

  She tugged her cloak tighter as if it were armor. She didn’t want to ask what he thought, though it was obvious he wished her to. “I’m going inside. There’s more work to be done.”

  Geoff grabbed her arm before she could move. “He said I won.”

  A jolt shook through her body. “Who?” she asked, though she knew the answer.

  His eyes darkened to a wintery gray. “Lord Andrew. He says ye turned him down.”

  Speak. Say something.

  “Aye.” It was barely a word.

  “Ye turned him down for me?” The hope and vulnerability in Geoff’s gaze tore away the last shreds of her tattered composure; they fluttered away on the wind that was busily removing all traces of Drew’s scent from the blankets.

  “No, Geoff.” She lifted her chin and affected an expression of defiance. “I turned him down for me.”

  She pulled her arm from his grasp and walked as quickly as she was able toward the kitchen door. He did not follow her, and for that she was more grateful than her prayers could express.

  Somehow, Eryn lived through the remainder of the day.

  But she would have to do it again tomorrow. And every single tomorrow that followed.

    

  Drew’s charger thundered across the landscape, tearing up miles with a tireless stride. He needed to put as much distance as he could between Castleton and himself. There could be no temptation to go back and swive the Lady Bell repeatedly until she was too senseless to hide the truth from him any longer.

  He was furious with her.

  He was in love with her.

  And for that, he was furious with himself.

  Kennan trailed at a safe distance. The vassal had been with him long enough to know when to ask questions, and when to simply follow in silence. This was a silence occasion, and Kennan excelled at his task.

  Twenty miles into the three-hundred mile trek toward London, Drew slowed their pace. It was only midday; they could accomplish another twenty miles easily. If he pushed, they might even make Barnard Castle.

  Kennan rode up beside him. “Ye are unusually eager to reach London, my lord.” His casual tone did not disguise the implied question.

  Drew took a long pull from the wineskin tied to his saddle before he answered. “It’s no’ London I’m eager to reach,” he grumbled.

  “No?” Kennan shaded his eyes against the glare of the day’s indistinct sunlight. “Where are we going?”

  Drew looked to the south, his decision solidly m
ade.

  “Elstow Abbey.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  January 2, 1355

  Eryn dressed in her man clothes, glad for the distraction. She wasn’t certain they needed to panic about their food supply just yet, but Scottish weather was always precarious in the winter. Today was dry like yesterday; and though the clouds were a bit thicker, the breeze was lighter, making for easier hunting.

  Geoffrey was riding with them today since the intent was to hunt, not to raid. Eryn suspected he hoped to impress her with his skills. She merely hoped his skills were sufficient. Hugh Scott and his son, Archie, made up the rest of their party. Archie’s real name was Hugh after his father, but the boy was so exceptional with a bow and arrow that the nickname caught on to avoid confusion.

  “Besides, Wee Hugh sounds like a sneeze,” Eryn mumbled, tugging her heavy boots over knit stockings.

  Shite.

  Sneeze made her think of her comment to Drew. And she hadn’t thought of him since she put on the manly hose and remembered the first time he kissed her. That was two or three minutes, at the very least.

  See—I’m already getting over him, she determined as she headed out to the stables.

  Eryn led her big red gelding, into the courtyard. The Scott men were there, but Geoff was late. “Shall we go without him?” she asked Hugh.

  He squinted at the cloudy sky. “Aye. Telling time in this light will be hard enough. We do no’ want to be out when night falls.”

  Eryn nodded and pulled herself into Rory’s saddle. She tapped him with her heels and the three of them rode out of the courtyard.

  “Leaving without me?” Geoffrey teased, trotting toward them on his dark brown courser—a claimed resource abandoned when its owner died.

  “Not anymore,” Eryn muttered.

  He gave her a confused smile.

  “We’ll go west, past Liddell Strength, and then south along the creek,” Hugh said. “I’ve seen boar in those woods before.”

  “Have you your arrows, Archie?” Eryn gave the young man a bright smile and hoped Geoff noticed. Archie only had twenty years and was too young for her, but that needn’t stop her from making a point. That point being, she was not pining for anyone.