Crossing her arms over her chest, Noel tapped her foot in irritation as she waited for him to recover from his fit. She was trying not to view his outburst as an insult, but what else was she to think? Finally he sank into a nearby chair. The chair she had commissioned for him as part of a pair, so they could sit comfortably before the fire together when he returned. The chair she now wished would break into a thousand pieces, dumping his ill-mannered carcass onto the tiles.
“What is so funny?” she asked. “’Tis a good alliance. You increase your lands and gain a small manor house and a decent marriage portion. I have proved my skills in running a household.” She hesitated, reluctant to boast but determined to sway him. “And I have been told that I am not too hideous to look upon.”
His amusement disappearing abruptly, he eyed her with a surly expression. “I need not your father’s holdings or your pitiful portion. I have a steward to run my keep and servants enough to see to my needs. And you, beautiful as you may be, are just a child and far too young for me.”
“I am not!” Noel cried. She was a woman, full grown, and knew very well that other girls her age were already bearing children. Gathering herself together, she bit back her argument when Benedick held up a hand to stop her.
“Cease this foolishness at once,” he said coldly. “I regret if your manor seems small in comparison to Longstone, but I’m sure that we can find some other landowner more than willing to give you the comforts you so desire.”
Gasping, Noel glared at him in rigid outrage. “You think ’tis this old pile of stones that I covet?” she cried.
“Don’t you?” he asked, his brows lifted in dark disdain.
“Bah! I have refused better offers!” she snapped, disgusted. Luckily Hardwin had long since moved out of range of their conversation, for Noel was oblivious to her surroundings. “Yes, I have made a home here, but for one reason only—because ’tis your home. Since the first time I saw you, I have wanted to marry only you. Obviously I was mistaken about the man I thought you were!”
Noel caught but a glimpse of Benedick’s startled expression before turning on her heel to flee the hall. Hurrying, she made it to the spiral stair before losing her dignity entirely. Fumbling, she continued upward, out of sight, while she wept at the loss of her dreams.
When she reached her tiny chamber, Noel did not pause to admire her handiwork in making the spare room livable, but threw herself on the bed and cried as she never had before. Even after her father died, she had held in her grief as she held on to the image of her knight returning to claim her.
Now that idea seemed foolish, nothing more than the fancy of a child yearning after an illusion, for her handsome warrior had returned an embittered creature who would throw her, like a bone, to the first man who came sniffing around.
Noel wept until her tears were spent, then lay still, like a dead thing, feeling hollow inside. She might have lain there all night, wallowing in her misery, but for a loud bang that made her roll reluctantly onto her back. A shutter had come loose, letting a chill wind sweep into the room, and Noel shivered, too weary to rise and secure it. Staring idly, she saw the breeze stir a bough of holly that hung over her narrow door.
Christmas.
Swallowing hard, Noel was grateful that at least she could stay on at Longstone until the holiday was over. Her eyes fixed on the bright greenery, she felt the magic of the season push aside her gloom. Gradually she came to view her tears as a silly indulgence. She was made of stronger stuff, she thought, as her usual optimism reasserted itself.
Make a wish, Noel.
She smiled slightly, for she could almost hear her mother’s voice whispering the words. Ella Amery had made the fortnight a special time for everyone in the manor and doubly special for the daughter who had been born on Christmas Day. Although the air was cool, sweet memories warmed Noel. As she watched, the red berries bobbed as if touched by some unseen hand, and she heard the gentle command again, seemingly borne on the wind.
Make a wish, Noel.
Should she? Her mother had always said that Christmas wishes were bound to come true, especially for those few who shared that special birthday. Hope surged to life in her breast, and she sat up, wiping her tear-streaked face determinedly. After having waited five long years for Benedick, turning aside other offers in the interim, was she going to give up so easily?
But did she still want him? Noel frowned as she considered the question. Certainly he was more rough-hewn than she remembered, but he was still undeniably handsome, scars and all. And even though he seemed churlish and ill-mannered, he still made her heart pound as wildly as before. Perhaps she had imagined all those mysteries behind his dark eyes, but what if she had not? Noel shivered as she considered delving into them to find the man hidden away inside. He was there, she sensed it, and what if he wanted out?
It was a challenge, Noel thought with a grin, and she loved challenges. Hadn’t she turned his dark keep into a home? Hadn’t she taken over the running of the household, although little prepared for it? Her father had always said she could accomplish anything when she put her mind to it. He had never used the word stubborn, but had called her strong willed, as if that were a virtue. Smiling anew at the memory, Noel hugged her knees to her chest and contemplated her future.
It wasn’t too late. She had until Epiphany to change Benedick’s mind. Absently she twisted a long lock of hair as she wondered how to convince the hardened warrior to marry her. As he had so rudely pointed out, he didn’t need her small portion or holdings. Like most men, he didn’t put a high value on household skills, and from the looks of him, he had no need of a woman to satisfy him, either, she thought, blushing. A man like that would have ladies waiting in line for his favors.
If only she were more of a seductress and less of the young girl that he saw her as. Noel sighed. Wishing for the impossible brought her thoughts back to Christmas, and her eyes widened in surprise.
She could give him Christmas.
From his behavior, Noel suspected that he had never enjoyed the celebration before, never relaxed his stiff guard, never been touched by the magic of the season. She would give him twelve wonderful days, the best holiday ever, she decided with a grin.
And by the time she was done, she just might get her very own Christmas wish.
Chapter Two
Benedick barely flicked a glance after the fleeing girl. She was a child and naught more than a nuisance. As for Hardwin... Benedick saw the steward’s swift frown of disapproval and matched it with his own. The old man had taken much upon himself in his master’s absence, and he would do better to worry about Benedick’s wrath rather than the tears of a homeless wench.
A low grumbling made him turn, his warrior’s instincts alert to the furtive exchanges and somber voices quickly silenced by his hard stare. Obviously the girl had many allies, and Benedick swore softly at the discovery. Had he left one battlefield only to find another? Would rest always be denied him?
“Saint Bernard’s bones!” Alard’s loud exclamation made Benedick decide to put off his reckoning with his steward until he was settled in at his keep. Still he gave the man a look that spoke of his displeasure, both with the matter of the girl and Hardwin’s attitude toward her.
“’Tis a fitting home for a brave knight, Sir Villiers!” Alard said, turning around as if awestruck by the hall. Indeed, one would have thought the lad was viewing a king’s castle. With a grunt of annoyance, Benedick shook his head.
“Put your eyes back in your head and attend me, lad!” he called, and with a nod of dismissal to Hardwin, he headed for the dark, circular stair to the great chamber. Even the dank passage of the steps seemed brighter, and Benedick began to wonder if his memory served him well. Or perhaps his recent lodging in a petty baron’s dungeon made all else seem an improvement.
Smiling tightly at the thought, Benedick swung open the heavy door and eyed the interior warily, for even this room was not as he recalled. The place had not only been scrub
bed clean, but the walls had been painted a pale yellow, new covers had been fashioned for the big bed and the shutters mended. A welcome fire burned brightly in the hearth and a length of carpet rested in front of it.
Benedick sucked in a breath. The effect was one of warmth and welcome, of sunny greeting despite the low light from the windows that signalled the fading day. Yet Benedick took no delight in the changes. Instead, he felt a surge of resentment that the girl had made her presence known even here! What right had she to enter his most private chamber? He would take Hardwin to task for the matter, he thought, and woe betide any who would stand in his way.
He remembered the condemning faces of the servants, and he wondered if she had turned his entire household against him. He was well used to enmity but had hoped for more in his own keep. He ought to turn out the lot of them, with her at the forefront.
Except he had promised.
“Saint Theodore’s tooth!” Alard exclaimed from behind him. “’Tis a bit better than our last encampment, eh?”
Benedick shrugged, his mind drifting back to the girl. Noel Amery. He had given his word that she could remain here until Epiphany, but if she wanted to leave earlier, he would be more than happy to oblige her. His lips curved into a tight smile. Once he stripped her of all authority, she would probably run back to her own manor, her golden hair flying behind her.
“Ah! ’Tis as soft as goose down!” Alard said, and Benedick started, alarmed that the squire’s words so echoed his own thoughts. What did Alard know of the girl? But when Benedick swung around, he found the boy admiring, not Noel, but the great bed. In fact, he was lying upon it, grinning outrageously.
“Up, you!” Benedick said. “Your place is on a pallet before the door.”
Alard grinned, unapologetic. “I can dream, can’t I?”
Ignoring the youth, Benedick returned his attention to Noel. A few days in his cold company and she would soon abandon her silly plan to marry him. A wife! That was the last thing he needed. He was a warrior, not some courtier who sang love ballads over a lady’s hand. He had worked hard for everything he had, disdaining those who would wed for financial gain.
And he was far too old to gently woo a maid.
By faith, he felt centuries older than the young innocent who claimed to be his ward, and he had the scars to prove it! If he decided to marry, he would choose someone more mature, more experienced, a woman who knew how to pleasure a man. Aye, a widow, even. A proven child-bearer to get him an heir, or perhaps someone already equipped with sons.
That was what he needed, yet even as Benedick tried to picture one of the jaded, hard-eyed court women in his bed, he saw the girl who had greeted him below, golden hair spread upon his pillow in silken waves. Fresh faced and smooth skinned, she had borne no children, nor had she known a man, from the looks of her. A virgin. The knowledge was oddly stirring, and Benedick swore softly at his own weakness.
“All right!” Alard said. Obviously the youth thought the oath was meant for him, and Benedick did not deny it. “I will take myself onto a hard mat at my master’s feet,” the squire grumbled.
Benedick grunted. “’Tis a berth I know well myself.” He tried not to wonder where Noel was sleeping.
“But ‘tis one you will not have tonight, so why do you grumble so? You are home, at last, and ’tis a fine place, indeed. How could it not be to your liking?” Alard asked. He paused meaningfully. “Was not your lady wife eager to see you?”
Benedick’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What?”
“The beauteous woman I glimpsed in the hall, slender and fair as an angel. Is she not your wife?”
“No! You know full well that I am not married.”
“Your leman, then?”
“No!” Benedict snarled. “She is my ward, and hardly a woman, but a child.” Young, innocent and full of foolish dreams, Benedick thought as he tossed his pack upon the bed and pulled out the few possessions he carried with him.
“She looked a lady full grown to me,” Alard said with a sigh. “I saw the curves beneath her gown, the silky length of her hair, and the delightful sway of her—”
Benedick cut off his squire’s words with a growl of warning. Although well used to Alard’s randy talk, he would have none of it applied to his ward. The boy’s lusty look made Benedick’s normally cold blood boil, and he had to stop himself from grabbing the mouthy youth by the throat.
“Keep a civil tongue in your head,” Benedick warned. “And your hands to yourself. Aye, even your very thoughts away from her. She goes to a man of property, not a squire without a farthing to his name.”
Benedick’s eyes narrowed. An heiress, Hardwin had called her. Her wealth meant little to him, but now he wondered just how much of a temptation she would present to penniless rogues like Alard.
“If I find you even looking at her too closely, I’ll toss you out on your ear,” Benedick warned. By faith, he had best marry off the wench soon, else he might find this task of guardian onerous indeed.
“’Tis certain to test me sorely, but I will obey you, of course,” Alard said, with a bow of acknowledgment.
“Do not test me sorely,” Benedick snapped, displeased with the youth’s levity. But a few minutes home and already he was saddled with a meddlesome girl and disloyal servants. And he must ever rein in his squire. So much for his much-needed rest!
Benedick scowled. To his mind, it was all the fault of one Noel Amery. And he had to put up with her until Epiphany! Running a hand through his thick hair, Benedick grunted in dismay.
Surely this was going to be the longest fortnight of his life.
Benedick stirred, a cocoon of warmth and softness surrounding him as he turned. Hair like liquid gold ran through his fingers, and the scent of greenery and spices filled his head, blended with a more subtle, womanly fragrance.
Noel.
She smelled young and sweet and fresh, like nothing he had ever known in his hard life. And she was in his bed. His body was suffused with a gentle heat, a sensation of completeness, of repletion, although he could not remember having lain with her. Better to renew his memory, he thought with a smile, and drew her close, her silken limbs sliding along his own, her skin sleek and supple and...
When Benedick’s hand closed around his blanket, he blinked in surprise, his eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar room and the walls that gleamed with the faint light of early dawn. Swiftly recognition returned, but with it came the tantalizing recollection of his thoughts before waking. Noel. In his bed. It had all seemed so real that for a moment Benedick thought the girl was well and truly beside him. He jerked upright in horror, his breathing labored.
A quick assessment of the chamber assured him that the only presence was that of Alard, sleeping peacefully on his mat in front of the door. Disgusted, Benedick ran a hand through his hair. Noel, the feelings...it had all been a dream.
He never dreamed.
With a rough shake of his head, Benedick swung to his feet, firmly dismissing the entire episode. He was unaccustomed to a bed, to the sights and smells of his own keep, decked out like some kind of child’s toy for the holiday. The problems of a landowner weighed down upon him, with the meddlesome wench an unexpected addition. It was only natural that his sleep be disturbed.
“Up, you!” he growled at Alard as he grabbed his clothes.
“What? What is it?” the squire mumbled, rubbing his head. Although Benedick suspected the youth had consumed one too many cups of ale and now felt the effects of indulgence, he spared his squire no sympathy.
“’Tis dawn, and time to rise, as you well know,” he answered tightly.
Opening one eye, the youth looked at him and groaned. “But we are not on the battlefield!”
“Still, there is much to be done.”
Alard fell back upon his pallet with a ragged sigh and swiped at his face. “Last night you had the pleasure of a bath, clean linens, and the softest bed in all Christendom. How is it that you are up and about this early, and ill-
humored besides?”
“I slept poorly,” Benedick snapped as he bent to tug on his boots. But it was not really true. His usual heavy slumber had been replaced by a sense of lightness, of peace and contentment and sweet dreams. He scowled, unwilling to admit to such, even to himself.
“You?” Alard scoffed. “You sleep like the dead! I’ve seen you make a nest of rocks and profess them to your liking!”
“Then perhaps my own foul nature ’tis the cause,” Benedick answered. “And unless you would see more of it, I’d advise you to rouse yourself.” Pointedly he stepped over the youth’s body and pulled open the door.
Expecting another one of Alard’s rejoinders, he paused on the threshold, but the boy only studied him with a curious intensity. Unaccountably irritated by his squire’s scrutiny, Benedick slammed the door shut behind him.
His mood was not improved by the sight of his hall. The servants were just rising, and he had to fetch his own ale and bread. Although he had spent his life doing for himself, he resented the small effort in his own household. Calling angrily for his steward, he was further displeased to discover that Hardwin was still abed.
Taking his seat at the high table, Benedick drank his ale and watched the room stir to life around him. He had to admit that the place smelled better than most, no doubt because of the branches dangling from every archway and opening. It was ridiculous, of course, but fragrant.
Leaning back, Benedick relaxed once more in the chair he had admired last night. It was a nice piece, heavy and so large he could rest his head against its high back. He did not remember it from his previous visit, but his time here had been all too brief. Flicking his gaze to the smaller one where Noel had taken the light supper served before nightfall, Benedick felt a resurgence of tension. The meddlesome wench had made herself at home far too well for his liking—and that was not even taking into account the dreams that he would rather forget.
The Knights of Christmas Page 20