A Knight for Love

by A. M. Westerling

  “My lord,” she whispered to no one in particular. “It was but a jest.”

  She stood disconsolate as the hoof beats faded away.

  *****

  The air blew fresh and teared his eyes as Warin raced Citadel away from Caperun Keep. Aye, it cleared the cobwebs but it didn’t blow away as easily the self-loathing and disappointment smothering him.

  “Fool,” he berated himself as he urged the horse faster and faster until the ground raced past with dizzying pace. Not until sweat flecked the mighty flanks did he finally pull up. He guided the horse off the path and into a clearing before sliding off.

  “My lord?” Bennet panted a moment later as he pulled up beside him. “Are you well?”

  “Aye,” Warin nodded wearily. “But leave me be, Bennet, my thoughts are troubled.” He turned and after looping the reins over a branch, moved away a few steps.

  “As were mine, my lord, when I saw you leave the castle in obvious distress. You must take care.” Bennet shook his head. “The new lord and master of Caperun Keep unaccompanied is a tempting target.”

  “I thank you for your concern, Bennet, but Citadel and I have fought many battles alone and will do so again.”

  “Very well,” Bennet shrugged. “But I can’t leave you unattended. I’ll wait on the road.” Without waiting for an answer, he nudged his horse and plodded away. Only the creaking of his saddle could be heard and then that too was gone.

  In frustration, Warin slammed a tree with his fist. What had possessed him this morning? What mischievous spirit had burst forth at the words Alyna had spoken?

  Alyna had not an evil bone in her body. This he knew as surely as he knew the sun rose every morning. The hurt in her eyes as he spit out the herbs haunted him. She had meant no harm, indeed, had offered him respite from self-inflicted stupidity. She had not offered one word of reproach when many other wives would have done so, rather, had made a jest to ease him.

  Nay, she had done no wrong.

  He had.

  Her words had opened old wounds, wounds he thought were beginning to heal as his time in Jerusalem became a dim memory.

  Images of men writhing in agony after ingesting poisoned food raced through his mind. Men under his command and for whom he carried responsibility, men he had urged to attend the feast for the sake of potential peace. He himself had come near death but he had been a late comer and had eaten only the few bites that remained.

  A bitter smile twisted his mouth. The battles in Palestine were not fought by armed combat alone. A friendly smile and pleasant face masked hate as easily as a helm or a veil.

  Bile rose in his throat and he leaned over, retching, but nothing came from his empty stomach. After a while the dry heaves subsided and he stood again. If only he could expel the newly awakened memories as easily as a body expelled foul food.

  A vision of Alyna as she had attended to her toilet this morning flickered before his eyes. The sight of her combing and braiding her hair had been intimate, soothing, a treasured moment among, hopefully, many to come.

  Alyna.

  Alyna, not Caperun Keep, provided the key to his succor.

  Not by her knowledge of herbs but by her very being. She would heal him, help him, hold him fast. He had to make her love him, to see him as other than the man King Henry had commanded her to wed.

  Until now he had only aspired for her love. Now he would let nothing stop him from attaining it.

  Aye, he would woo her. An impossible task? Mayhap but her love would be his great reward. Her love would be his salvation.

  And he would start by apologizing for his earlier behavior.

  Overcome by an alien lightness of spirit, he mounted Citadel and went in search of Bennet.

  *****

  “Forgive you?” The question bewildered Alyna. What game did Warin play now? This morning he had ridden away in anger with not so much as a by your leave and now he stood before her to beg pardon?

  “Aye. You meant no harm this morning. I’m pleased you’re well-versed in herbs and healing.”

  “Oh.” She lowered her gaze to her hands and the needlework she had begun just this morning while overseeing the scrubbing of the tables and benches in the great hall.

  An apology, how odd. True, his actions had been hurtful but as her husband he could behave as he wished with no explanation. She kept her eyes lowered. Conversely, could it be another sign that he cared for her?

  If nothing else, it showed he had a conscience and was aware of his actions towards others.

  “I’m not used to the ministrations of a wife. And,” he stumbled over the words, “my actions last night were unwise.”

  “That’s true, they were,” she agreed, finally lifting her eyes to his. “But as lord of Caperun Keep your actions are your own and not to be questioned by another.”

  Warin inclined his head in agreement.

  “I’m your wife. Aye, we wed under unexpected circumstances but now the deed is done. What could I possibly gain by your death?” She stood up and pointed to the tapestry Caperun coat of arms. “It is you yourself who said Caperun and de Taillur will join. And for that, my lord, we need two.” She held up the linen in her hands. “See? I’ve begun on the de Taillur emblem, to hang beside that one. And when it’s finished, I’ll begin a third showing the two joined together.”

  “I’ll look upon them every day with pride.” Warin appeared humbled by her words.

  “My lord,” she changed the subject. He seemed to be in an agreeable mood right now so it was time to broach the subject of Emma.

  “Aye?”

  “It’s not proper for Emma and me to be the only two women in the keep. Too, there is much that needs doing to set it to rights with only two.”

  “Are there women in the village willing to work here?” At her nod, he continued. “Bring them, then. Your position here will not be questioned.”

  “I thank you, my lord.”

  “Nay, it is I who must thank you.” He lifted one of her hands and placed a gossamer kiss on the palm. He folded the fingers over as he had done that day when he had caught her flinging rocks towards the stone walls.

  “Oh.” Once again his actions rendered Alyna speechless.

  Really, how unpredictable Warin could be. One moment, a mighty warrior and the next, gentle as a poet. Both appealed to her in their way. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth and she stared at him unabashedly.

  Already the harsh lines on his face had softened and her palms itched with the longing to smooth them away altogether. And gladly she would share the mantle of responsibility with him if for no other reason than to lighten the shadows still haunting his eyes.

  “You put me to shame for already this chamber shines with care and attention. I beg your leave for I’m needed outside. The gate is in want of repair and the men stand about awaiting my command.”

  “Go, then.” She smiled at him, a smile she hoped would reassure him.

  His answering smile warmed her to her very toes and set her to tingling inside. The thought of seducing him rose once again in her mind but this time she pushed it away. Nay, this time she would await his overtures for she did not wish to embarrass him or herself again.

  *****

  Warin’s manner over the next few days baffled her.

  Any opportunity to lend her aid, he did. If he could help her sit, he would. When he left her to go about his business in the bailey or village, he brought her a small trinket or sweetmeat upon his return. No request of hers was denied.

  However, the nights baffled her even more. He didn’t join her in their bed, protesting he was much too restless to sleep and would surely disturb her.

  He slept instead on a pallet by the fire. By the time she awoke in the morning, ale and bread would be warming on the hearth for her. Once she even found a sprig of holly tied with a red ribbon on the pillow beside her.

  “Warin?” She finally had to question him after he had plied her endlessly one evening with compliments. �
�Is aught amiss?”

  She welcomed his attention but she began to think guilt plagued him over something he had done. She dared not hope he cared for her – she reminded herself that he had married her only on the king’s command.

  “Nay,” he replied. “Only that I cannot get enough of your beauty which brightens this day and every day.”

  “I don’t need coddling or pretty words that are purposeless,” she declared. Did he think he could placate her with hollow compliments? She bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from blurting out the question.

  “Is it coddling to help one’s wife? Is it purposeless to ply her with the compliments she so richly deserves?” His eyes were warm, admiring and she desperately wanted to believe him.

  “Nay but I can’t help but think.” She stopped, not wishing to offend him.

  “Aye, Alyna, think what?”

  “That you’ve committed some grievous error and don’t wish to tell me.” There, she said it.

  To her amazement, he tilted his head back and began to laugh.

  “By the Virgin Mary, Alyna,” he said finally, wiping his eyes. “What suspicion do you harbor beneath that sweet face?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I somehow feel you’re holding a secret from me.”

  “There are no secrets.” Warin chuckled again.

  She laid her index finger against her mouth and stared at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. He was up to something, she could feel it, but what it was eluded her.

  “Very well,” she nodded. Warin claimed all was well and if not, he would tell her on his own time. She yawned.

  “You are weary?”

  “Aye. The days are long and busy but I’m thankful for that, for the castle has never looked finer.” She lifted her chin with pride. With the addition of Muriel and two other women from the village, the castle once again resembled a home and not a battleground.

  “The women mind you well?” He leaned over to stir the embers of the fire. The flames sprang to life again, their reflection dancing on his face.

  “Aye.” Alyna nodded. “Muriel comes with her babe every morning and returns to the village in the evening. Hilda and her daughter Beatrice sleep on pallets in the kitchen chamber. Since the death of her husband, Hilda has no desire to live alone.”

  She yawned again. “I’m off to bed. See, all about us sleep already.” She pointed to the slumbering figures scattered about the hall.

  “I’ll join you shortly. I want to see to Citadel. He came up lame today.”

  “Make haste for the night is chill.” The phrase popped out, solicitous in its intent. It must have pleased him for his face softened when he looked at her.

  “I will.” Warin leaned over and brushed a kiss against her cheek before he stood. She shivered at the contact, so light yet so thrilling.

  As she watched him thread his way through the tables, benches and sleeping men, she touched her cheek where his lips had brushed it. How she wished he would come to share the bed this night so that not just her cheek but her entire body could feel him, so that he could feed the inferno that lay banked within her.

  At the door, he grabbed one of the torches against the darkness outside. When he disappeared from sight, she rose from the bench and tiptoed up the stairs to the solar.

  *****

  Alyna sat by the fire in their chamber. She leaned over to dip a cloth in the basin at her feet and began to wash her face.

  “Alyna?” Warin’s voice caressed her ears.

  Startled, she dropped the cloth. “My lord, I didn’t hear you come in. You surprised me.”

  “As you surprise me every day,” he whispered, moving to stand behind her. “With your grace and your essence.”

  He lifted a finger and traced the profile of her cheek.

  Cautiously, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Had some imp told him of her thoughts? Warin had come to her, just as she had wished.

  A smile carved its way slowly across his face and he looked her directly in the eyes. She was lost, whirling down into the icy blue depths, drawn into his very core, trapped.

  Warin. His name curled about her mind like the morning mist and silently she repeated it. Warin. Her woman’s place began to throb, hard. She closed her eyes to combat the sensation, to free herself from his visual grip, a grip as sure and strong as if he held her with his hands.

  Something tickled her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she saw his hand had touched her. He left it for an instant then slowly traced down her arm and back up again. With his other hand, he cupped her breast and tweaked her nipple through the fabric of her kirtle.

  “Oh,” she moaned. She leaned her head back against him. “Again,” she whispered. She hoped he would not think her forward but she so wanted him in her arms.

  He obliged, cupping both breasts securely and nuzzling her neck before turning her about on the stool and dropping to his knees between her legs. Her knees burned where his hands lay on them.

  “Alyna, my dove.”

  The endearment rendered her speechless for this time it was not spoken in the bantering tone of that night in the hall.

  He chuckled softly at her surprise, lowering his head to kiss her. Anticipation coursed through her and she parted her lips in invitation. Aye, she knew what she wanted and she would do all in her power to make it so.

  “Alyna.” He whispered again before his lips touched hers, soft at first then with more demand. Resisting the urge to clasp her arms about him, Alyna instead gripped the edge of the stool and gave herself to the power of their kiss, a power hinting of the sensuous storm to come.

  Lip dancing with lip, tongue teasing against tongue, the tantalizing joining of their mouths became a battleground for all the senses. The smell of him, of leather and fresh air, the taste, the feel of his hands heavy upon her knees, the sound of his breath, so many senses in play that she couldn’t open her eyes without succumbing to the deluge.

  And so she kept them closed and focused on the exquisite maelstrom ruling her body. Finally, he pulled his head away.

  Her lips felt abandoned at the interruption nevertheless her eyes could not, would not open. For an instant, nothing, then he picked her up and placed her gently on the bed.

  Passion ruled over all, for cool air whispered against her skin as he stripped her kirtle and chemise from her, then came the welcome weight of Warin on her body. He sprinkled kisses upon her face and neck much like the gentle spring showers that brought the earth to life.

  Still she couldn’t open her eyes but now her lips were no longer bereft, instead were curved with pleasure. This time when he kissed her, aggression triumphed over quiescence and her tongue became a weapon, piercing him with sweet precision.

  Wanton! The thought burst into her mind as her body began to writhe against him, seeking the relief only he could provide. Beyond caring, she bucked even harder, parting her legs so he lay nestled between them, inviting him in to make her whole, embracing the welcome pressure as he entered her.

  He began to move within her, deliberate, awakening the nameless yearning, challenging her to find her release.

  “My Alyna,” he whispered against her ear, “Only mine.”

  “Warin!” He slowed then stopped at her whimper.

  “Nay,” she pleaded with him, “it’s not that. I—” Her voice trailed away as he started to thrust again.

  What was it she wanted to say? All thoughts disappeared and she wrapped her legs about his waist, imploring, begging, nay, commanding him for more. Restraint cast aside, he pumped wildly, carrying her with him until she reached that elusive summit of purity.

  Her cry, and his, echoed through the chamber.

  They lay there for several moments before Warin pulled himself away. It was a slow movement, as if he were loath to break the contact.

  “You please me greatly, wife.” Propped on his elbow beside her, Warin lifted a tawny curl and tickled her nose with it. Her heart leap at the tender gesture, precious in
its familiarity.

  But no words of love passed his lips. Seconds passed and still he said nothing.

  “Thank you,” she whispered finally. He had said she pleased him. It was not much but it was a start. Although he didn’t love her, she couldn’t quell the tide of love for him consuming her.

  Should she say the words? Would they please him or repulse him?

  Nay, best to keep her silence. He had said she pleased him. It would sustain her for now.

  She rolled over and snuggled her backside into his hips, soon to fall asleep.

  Warin scowled deeply as he stared over her head into the fading embers. Love, could she not tell him she loved him? Didn’t she know the importance of her love to him? Didn’t she know his very salvation depended on it? Didn’t she know the talisman of her love would only be effective if it came from her un-asked?

  It didn’t occur to him to reflect on the absurdity of the latter.

  He smoothed the tawny curls so they lay straight, catching the faint wisp of lily of the valley. He sucked in a great lungful of air, as if he could inhale her very being.

  He’d thought his recent actions would show his feelings to her but so far apparently not enough to sway her. He wouldn’t bare his soul to her until he had reassurance that love for him simmered in her heart.

  He pulled her close. Good things were worth waiting for and good things were worth fighting for. The wooing would continue, he vowed. Alyna would be his, body and heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Caperun Keep always rang with merriment at Christmastide and Alyna determined to keep it that way. Since early morning, all had been busy with preparations for the festivities beginning on the morrow.

  Excitement bubbled from her every pore at the hum of activity filling the castle.

  “Ho, Bennet!” She called out as Bennet came into the hall early one afternoon still stamping the snow off his feet. “Did you find everything I asked for?” She put aside her blue tunic. She was letting out the seams as she had tried it on last night and it had become a bit snug.