The Knights of Christmas

by Suzanne Barclay

  His roving gaze abruptly focused on Noel. She stood out among them all, more beautiful, more full of life. Their mistress. Scowling, Benedick pushed aside the notion and turned away, his shoulders protesting the day of wood chopping. Absently he swung his arm upward.

  He was getting too old for this.

  As if she glimpsed his weariness, Noel sent everyone over to the trestle tables, and servants hurried back to the kitchens to serve the evening’s supper. “Come, sir knight,” she said, taking his hand. “You have done well this day.”

  Benedick grunted. He cared not for her opinion! He turned to seek the relative peace of his own chamber, but she tugged him toward the high table. She was touching him again. He looked down to see their fingers entwined, pale and dark, and he felt oddly light-headed.

  “Your people are well pleased,” she said, in that breathless, admiring voice, as if he had actually done something important. His people? Startled, he blinked, and realized she was right. Although no baron, he was lord of these lands and those who resided on them.

  “And the celebration is just beginning!” Noel promised. Her eyes sparkled, and he saw that twelve candelabras had been lighted. More nonsense, Benedick thought in disgust. He ought to forbid it, or, at the very least, retreat to the quiet of his own chamber. He glanced toward the dark stair to his room, but Noel pulled him, inexorably, toward the noise and the lights and his chair. And he let her. As master, he supposed he ought to preside over the meal. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

  The repast was smaller than the massive dinner, but with bread and meat aplenty, and afterward, there was singing. Relaxing in his chair, listening to the fine voices entwined, Benedick forgot his plan to retire early. He had seen grander entertainments and more luxuriously appointed halls, but there was something soothing about his own well-run household. When he had thought of Longstone, as he had done often while away, he never pictured it so warm, so full of life.

  Unwillingly Benedick glanced toward the woman who stepped forward to praise the revelers, for he knew now that she was responsible for the changes here and that he would reap the benefits long after she left. Frowning, he tried to ignore a twinge of guilt that came with the knowledge. After all, he had not invited her to Longstone, and all these festivities were not necessary. They would manage just as well without the Time of Twelves, he thought grimly.

  But would she? Benedick let his gaze rest on her upturned face, shining with happiness. Even at seventeen, she was such a mixture of child-woman, moving around the room with the grace and beauty to rival any queen’s, but infused with the gaiety of youth, guileless and carefree.

  Benedick scowled at the thought of quenching that fire, although he knew that she must marry and pursue a life of her own. He would have to take good measure of the man who would wed her, for all too soon, Noel would have more to concern her than Christmas gifts.

  Christmas gifts? Only the knowledge that she had undoubtedly spent her own money kept Benedick from protesting the precious waste of coin. But as she stepped closer, he could see that her presents were handmade: a sweet-smelling bit of dried flowers for a female attendant, an unguent for Hardwin’s joints. Benedick relaxed back into his chair, content that she had not spent too much, until she lifted her head and looked at him, a grin as mischievous as any child’s lighting her features.

  He felt as if she had reached out and touched him.

  Ignoring the warmth that seemed to infuse him at her regard, Benedick straightened as she approached and bowed her head before him in a gesture of respect. He noticed how the candlelight made her hair shine as it had in his dream, a shimmering length of molten gold, and then grunted at his own folly. Since when had he started thinking like a whey-faced troubadour?

  “And here is your present, sir knight,” she said.

  “No,” Benedick said, for he had no wish to take something she had meant for another. Nor did he have anything to give in return. “I have no gifts.”

  Noel shook her head as if to deny his words. “But you must give and receive twelve gifts!”

  Benedick frowned, having had his fill of the so-called traditions she held so dear. “No gifts,” he said.

  “Perhaps if you gave twelve of your servants each a coin,” she suggested, her eyes twinkling.

  “No gifts,” Benedick repeated through gritted teeth.

  She clucked her tongue, as if to scold him, and Benedick sucked in a breath at her audacity. He was a man, a knight three times her size, and her guardian besides! Had she no sense? He opened his mouth to take her to task, but then she smiled, just as if she weren’t maddening him, and held out her hands to reveal a dark green pillow, flat and square.

  “Get up,” she said.

  Benedick blinked at her in astonishment, unable to remember the last time a female dared give him an order.

  “Up!” she said, laughing as she grabbed him by the hand. Caught off guard by the gentle warmth of her touch, Benedick responded to the small tug of her dainty fingers and rose to his feet.

  “’Tis a cushion for your chair,” she said. Grinning, she put the pillow where he had been sitting while Benedick stared, stunned. Slowly the realization came to him that this was not something intended for another, for it fit perfectly in its place.

  Although she had not known he would be here, sometime during the past year, Noel had crafted the small luxury with her own hands—for him. The knowledge touched Benedick strangely, for no one had ever made him anything. Nothing had ever been given freely to him in his long years of struggle.

  “I cannot accept it,” he muttered.

  “Oh, but you must,” she said, pushing him back down. He sank down upon the cushion, and it felt...wonderful. “I must give twelve gifts and this is one of them, so you cannot return it. There! Comfortable?” she asked.

  Benedick could only nod curtly as she leaned over him, golden hair falling over one shoulder to tickle his chest. Her eyes were bluer than a hillside stream, her smile brighter than the sun, and his body tightened, unnerved by her nearness as he had never been by any other female. Her scent enveloped him, heady and more vivid than his dream, and just when he thought he would gladly succumb to that memory, she straightened, moving away from him and on to the next prize she would award.

  Benedick leaned back, shocked by his reactions to his child ward. His breath was too hurried, and he concentrated on slowing it deliberately, as he tried to absolve himself of any guilt. Naturally a pretty maid would have an effect on him. He was but a man, healthy despite his recent imprisonment and not yet in his grave, for all his weariness.

  Did Noel not realize that, the little fool? Apparently not, he noted with some disgruntlement. Any other female who claimed to want marriage would be sidling up to him, advertising her charms as a means to get his agreement. But instead of swinging her hips or batting her eyes, Noel took him by the hand as if he were an elderly uncle and helped him into his chair like some graybeard!

  Faith, but he was not that old. Benedick frowned at the thought. His mood was not improved when he saw Alard present the girl with a circlet of greenery, which she promptly set atop her hair. It made her look like some kind of wood nymph or Christmas angel, and Benedick caught his breath, enchanted by the sight of Noel turning slowly, laughter curving her dainty mouth.

  With a grunt, Benedick shook his head. Had the girl no modesty that she displayed herself so shamelessly for Alard? And hadn’t he expressly forbidden his squire to have dealings with her? Yet there they were, leaning close and whispering together. Light haired, young and similar in height, the two looked akin in more than rambunctious spirit, and Benedick felt a strange sort of uneasiness deep in his gut.

  It did not escape his attention that Alard had already dragged several maids beneath the mistletoe in his efforts to gain the requisite twelve kisses. When it looked to Benedick as if Noel might be next, he half rose from his chair, a growl rumbling in his chest.

  Noel must have heard him for she lifted her head and
moved toward him. “You’ve already had kisses aplenty this night, squire,” she called over her shoulder. “But what of your master?” she asked, a teasing glint in her eye. Stepping nearer, she reached out and took Benedick’s hand once again, pulling him toward an archway where the mistletoe dangled.

  Alard made some rowdy remark, and Benedick heard other voices, raised in encouragement, but all he could think of was the way she led him across the room. Who else had she kissed this night? He had seen her with a couple of the children, the cook and Hardwin. Did she think of her guardian as equally harmless?

  Benedick grew more irritated with each step, a glance at Alard’s grinning countenance doing nothing to improve his mood. He thought of the young, enthusiastic squire embracing her next, and his blood fairly boiled. No doubt Noel eagerly awaited a turn with the handsome youth—after doing her duty by his master.

  Frowning, Benedick let her position him beneath the pagan greenery. Then she rose onto the tip of her toes and brushed her lips over his cheek in the most tepid of unions. Did the wench want a husband or a father? Benedick wondered angrily. Did she truly wish for a marriage or a sexless union in which she ran the household while he sat in his cushioned chair?

  Outraged, Benedick put his hands on her shoulders and held her in place. Did she think to find more pleasure with a boy half his age? His mouth quirked in bitter humor. There were some things to be said of maturity and experience, and obviously, his young ward needed a lesson in the ways of men.

  Those blue eyes looked up at him with curiosity, but Benedick refused to lose himself in them. This time, he swore it was little Noel who would be light-headed before he was through with her. Focusing instead upon her shoulders, Benedick rested his thumbs against the skin above her kirtle and stroked lightly. He felt her relax beneath his hands and smiled grimly.

  “Be wary who you would tempt, child,” Benedick warned as he lowered his head. Noel’s lips parted in surprise, and he took his advantage. Opening his mouth over hers, he kissed her hard. One minute, he was putting her in her place, the next he was sinking into her sweetness. She smelled like holly and Noel and tasted of elderberry wine. Warm. Moist. Delicious.

  And she answered him. As soon as his tongue gentled from its first punishing assault, Benedick felt her give way beneath him, her hands sliding up his chest to curl around his neck. The soft touch of her fingers on the flesh beneath his hair fired his blood, and he backed her against the stone of the archway. Her firm breasts pushed into his chest, her slender belly pressed against him, and lust, long dormant, clamored to attention. But it was more than that. A sense of rightness, of homecoming, that Benedick had felt only in his night vision surrounded him, feeding his hunger for her, swamping him with sensation until he felt as if he lived the dream.

  The fleeting thought was so startling that Benedick lifted his head, easing away from her. Dazed in mind and body, he glanced down at the woman in his arms. She sagged back against the wall, staring up at him with those amazing blue eyes, filled with an innocent desire that was nearly his undoing. Indeed, he might have reached for her again had he not gradually become aware of their surroundings, and the stunned silence that had fallen over the hall.

  Benedick might not be an expert on all of Noel’s beloved traditions, but he knew that kisses under the mistletoe were supposed to be those of friendship, not pulse-pounding desire. He grimaced but refused to feel ashamed. Noel was still leaning against the stones, her breasts rising and falling rapidly, her garland of greenery hanging askew, her eyes liquid and yearning. And from the looks of her, he should be well satisfied, for she had obviously discovered that he was no doddering ancient. Unfortunately, Benedick had also learned something.

  His ward was no child.

  Noel stared after Benedick as he stalked off. She heard his squire’s whoop of enthusiasm and the delighted murmurs of those residents who still lingered in the hall at this late hour, but she paid them no heed. Her eyes were fixed firmly on her knight. Tall, lean and muscular, he strode away with an easy grace, his long, hard thighs eating up the distance to the stairs.

  Flushing, Noel remembered the feel of that body against hers, strong and hot and thrilling. She gulped a breath, closing her eyes to savor the taste of him on her lips. She had been stealing kisses under the mistletoe for years, but never had she felt anything like this bone-melting craving. His mouth had been dark and delectable and full of mysteries.

  Mysteries that only he could teach her.

  And his touch! Noel shuddered as her shoulders begged for more, her skin tingling from where he had stroked it. Everything, from the moment he had put his hands on her, had been a revelation that rocked her to the core.

  “I think you just got your quota of kisses for the night.”

  Noel’s eyes flew open at the sound of the squire’s dry comment. Glancing over to find him watching her with a curious, assessing gaze, she blushed crimson.

  The youth laughed. “Don’t worry. I think Sir Villiers was just as shaken as you were by that little tryst.” He turned to look after the disappearing figure and grinned. “Perhaps the great knight has met his match, eh?”

  Noel only shook her head. Benedick wanted no match with her. He had made that abundantly clear this morning. And yet...she needed to think.

  “Excuse me, I believe I will retire now,” she said, nodding toward Alard. The youth waved her off with a knowing smile that flustered her, but as she made her way to the steps, her thoughts swiftly returned to Benedick.

  The kiss changed everything.

  Oh, she had been infatuated with the handsome knight for years, but it had been the innocent infatuation of a child, with little relation to the adult emotions that coursed through her now.

  To her young eyes, Benedick had been attractive and alluring, a man who had earned her father’s respect, yet what had she really known about him or his life? She had nursed that memory, along with the desire to make a home with the only person she recalled fondly.

  When Benedick returned, Noel still found him handsome and appealing in a gruff sort of way. Anxious to keep the life she had made for herself here, she had clung to her hopes for an alliance. But, suddenly, Longstone took on a lesser importance, as she realized that there was something else she wanted more.

  Benedick.

  Once closeted in her room, Noel fell upon the bed in a near swoon. Faith, her heart was still racing. Her body ached in places she had never been aware of before, and her mind was in a turmoil. Why had he kissed her so, when he professed not to want her? Was he even aware of his effect upon her?

  Of course, Noel’s feelings for her returning knight had been subtly changing all day. After his initial ill temper this morning, Benedick gradually had become more...approachable. Obviously he had never known a true Christmas celebration, and so he had to be prodded into taking part, but despite a few complaints, he seemed to enjoy himself.

  Ignoring his grumbling, Noel had dragged him into the thick of things, and in doing so she discovered a few facets to Benedick Villiers. He might be demanding, but he gave others their due. He worked hard, doing more than his share, and he treated his people fairly. His surprise at their attention told Noel that he was unused to caring of any sort. Sadly she suspected that the man hidden inside was in desperate need of cheers and laughter and...love.

  Every time she watched him, Noel’s heart softened even more, and when their eyes met, she sensed again the kinship she had imagined at their first meeting. Their bitter exchange of yesterday was forgotten, and she began to feel that Benedick was an old friend.

  Except that he didn’t kiss like one.

  Noel smiled dreamily. Marriage to Benedick took on a whole new appeal at the memory of his mouth on hers, his hard body, his hot hands, his low voice, deep and disturbing.... But a man like that might treat every maid to such pleasures! Noel shuddered at the thought. What if their embrace meant nothing to him? What if he held to his decree that she leave after Epiphany?

  Noel sa
t up abruptly, filled with a new desperation. She was certain now that Benedick was her destiny. She wanted to stay here forever, to make a home with him, to discover the secrets hidden behind his dark eyes and the mysteries that only he could teach her.

  She wanted to spend the rest of her life loving him.

  There was only one thing to do. Drawing a deep breath, Noel put her arms around her knees, hugging them to her, and closed her eyes tightly. With fierce concentration, she put all her hopes and dreams and yearning into one whispered plea.

  “Let my Christmas wish be that Sir Benedick Villiers marry me before Twelfth Night is over.”

  Chapter Four

  Benedick knew a peace he had never hoped to find. Home at last, he was surrounded by comfort and warmth—the comfort of Noel’s gentle touch, the warmth of her heat. She was in his bed, and he reveled in the glide of her silken skin beneath his hands, the dreamy look in her liquid eyes. It was a look meant only for him, and Benedick gave her what she wanted. His mouth took hers in a kiss that tasted finer than wine and just as heady...

  Abruptly coming awake, Benedick blinked up at the ceiling. He lay on his back in bed, alone, in the chill of morning. With a glance, he noted that the fire had burned down, and despite a blanket of thick fur, he shuddered. The heavy curtains he had pulled nearly closed the night before did little to keep out the drafts, for he felt cold to the bone.

  Bereft.

  Benedick frowned. He shouldn’t have kissed her. Now he knew what delights awaited the husband he must choose for Noel, and he liked not the knowledge. But neither could he succumb to his own lustful urgings. Noel was too fresh and innocent to be burdened with his darkness. It was a bitter truth, but Benedick faced it as he had faced many such in his life.

  He would find her a young man of property who had never fought a day in his life, someone as bright and sunny as herself to give her many children. And he would be rid of her and these plaguing dreams. In the meantime, he would do best to remember that Noel was his ward and behave accordingly. He ran a hand through his hair and counted.