The Christmas Knight

by Michele Sinclair

  Bronwyn tossed her head back and let go a long sigh that spoke volumes. “I’m glad Edythe agreed to stay, but I’m surprised Lily did not also jump at the chance when Tyr volunteered to remain behind.”

  “Your sister’s innocent, but not nearly as naïve as she wants all to believe. She sees the attraction between Tyr and Edythe. Nothing will ever come of it, but at least Lily is smart enough to know that if Tyr were inclined toward a woman, it would not be her. Not to mention that, for Baron Alfred’s sake, it was a good thing she agreed to continue with the journey. She is much better behaved when Edythe is not around.”

  “I have to admit she and Edythe do enjoy annoying the other. Still, Lily is handling herself much better than I anticipated.”

  “Yes. She hasn’t complained once this morning although the real reason your sister’s enduring this trip is quite apparent.”

  Bronwyn bit the inside of her cheek and murmured, “Court.”

  Ranulf grunted in agreement. “I’ve never seen someone so eager to meet a rather pompous and boring group of individuals.”

  Bronwyn pasted on a shocked expression and openly stared at her husband. “Why, this is the first time I think I have ever heard you speak negatively of the king.”

  “I’m not talking about the duke or his wife. Just those that like to cling to them and the comforts they surround themselves with.”

  “And you think Lily is just like those people.”

  “She is. Unfortunately, she will be more successful. By the time she’s done, she’ll have charmed half of King Henry’s nobles and I will have double to answer for then.”

  Bronwyn furrowed her brow and studied Ranulf to see if he was serious. And he was. His mind was in the immediate future and it concerned him. She was just about to ask him to explain his plan when Lily suddenly appeared by her side. “Did I hear you say court?”

  The innocent question jerked Ranulf back to the present and he gave a short laugh before urging his horse into an ever-faster lope. Good food, new horses, and a good night’s sleep had enabled them to easily make up any time loss by the deviation to the baron’s home, but there was still significant ground to cover.

  It was paramount that they arrive at Westminster in time to meet with a certain baker before a certain cake was put in the oven.

  Bronwyn listened impatiently as those around her sat riveted. The tale Lily was spinning was a good one, mostly because every word of it was true. Still, Bronwyn had been waiting for a chance to speak with Ranulf about the specifics of his plan all day. Only one never came. Someone either interrupted them just before she was going to ask or was riding too near to be assured of privacy. By the time they stopped to make camp, she had decided that if an opportunity didn’t arrive by the end of their meal, she would make one.

  Unfortunately, Lily once again had everyone engaged in conversation. Even though Ranulf wasn’t necessarily participating, he was actively listening to her tales about Laon teaching her how to ride a horse. The tale conveyed her younger sister’s naiveté, willfulness, and sheer determination so that by its conclusion one wondered if she was immature or just a little inexperienced. Regardless, all were charmed into admiring her as she openly exposed her flaws. If Ranulf worried about men of court instantly desiring her, then he was right to do so.

  The story finally done, Bronwyn reached over and clasped her fingers within Ranulf’s, but before she could lean over and whisper in his ear, one of his men asked Lily an ensuing question. Her face broke into a sparkling grin and Bronwyn knew the answer was going to be another entertaining story.

  Pasting on her most endearing smile, Bronwyn stood up and interrupted, “I must beg everyone’s pardon for retiring early. I have been needing to speak with my husband all day. So, we will see you in the morning.” She then looked down at Ranulf to ensure he understood that she was serious.

  He arched a single brow, but said nothing as he rose to join her, ignoring the short coughs and snorts of laughter of his men. Bronwyn instantly froze as she realized what the small group—including her husband—believed she had meant. Mustering up the remnants of her pride, she forced herself to march on.

  “It’s nice to know you’ve been wanting me all day, but if you desire for us to be alone, there are more discreet ways of letting me know,” Ranulf teased as he lifted the flap of their tent.

  Bronwyn knew her already red face was turning an even more brilliant color, but she refused to let Ranulf believe he had totally won. “You, husband, are far more in need of a modesty lesson than I.”

  Ranulf let go the heavy material and then crossed his arms with a smug look of satisfaction Bronwyn wanted to both remove and indulge. “Don’t believe in modesty. Never have. Kind of liking the fact that you don’t either,” he said, hinting at what he thought was about to come next.

  Bronwyn took a step back and waved a finger. “I said I wanted to speak with you alone…about tomorrow.” The grin spread across Ranulf’s face vanished and was immediately replaced with a sour grimace. He said nothing.

  Bronwyn bit the inside of her lip in frustration. “All this while I thought there just hadn’t been time for us to talk, for you to explain. I’m now realizing that you have been avoiding this conversation.”

  “Not avoiding. But eager to have it? No.”

  “Why? Do you think I might be worried, unable to handle it?”

  Ranulf rubbed his temples. “More like disappointed…in me.”

  “First the king and now me? You must know by now that nothing will change my feelings for you, and as for the king, I thought he considered you a friend.”

  “The duke doesn’t seek friendship, just loyalty,” Ranulf scoffed and started to unhook his belt, needing something to do in the close quarters.

  “But you are loyal, are you not?”

  “I am, but some could claim otherwise,” Ranulf cautioned, tossing the leather strap aside. Then he looked directly at her and added, “And they would be right.”

  Bronwyn suddenly felt ill as understanding hit her full force. Ranulf’s loyalty, which had never wavered before, had become divided. She had become his priority and the battle she had seen waged in the distance had proven just whom Ranulf would choose whenever the two came in conflict. “But surely the king will understand—”

  Ranulf shrugged and sank down onto the soft furs lining their makeshift bed. His mouth twisted into a frown as he became lost in deep thought. “England’s new king is many things. Henry has the capacity for great generosity, proven by my own purse size, and he cares about his men, often riding out with me and other commanders in the morning rather than staying inside in comfort.”

  Bronwyn sat down beside Ranulf and gathered one of his hands into her own and listened.

  “As you know, I first met Henry when he came to Bristol as a boy to study, but his interest was not thrust upon him as some would think. He loved to learn. Years later, when our paths crossed again, he was still studying a variety of topics and no doubt still does. As a result, he has an unusual understanding of the law and is a great believer in its power to bring justice.”

  Ranulf paused and stared at their intertwined fingers as he gathered his thoughts. “He is also quite intolerant of those who act in such ways that might be considered unlawful or—disloyal. And I, in the span of less than two weeks upon arrival, have committed three such acts.”

  “Three?” Bronwyn mouthed as her brow puckered with incredulity.

  Ranulf pursed his lips before nodding. “When your father lay dying, he pleaded for me to protect you and your sisters and thought my marrying Lily would ensure this promise for life. I obliged him to ease his mind as he passed, but I had believed the duke would revoke the vow. I was wrong.

  “I soon discovered that your father charmed not only our king, but our queen, and neither could be persuaded to my desires. Her Grace had deemed it time I marry, knowing I would never initiate the state myself. So I went north armed with Laon’s descriptions of you and your sisters—
”

  “Which is how you knew from the start that I was not Lillabet.”

  “Yes, but it takes only a few minutes in your company to determine just who is the eldest and who is the youngest. I would have discovered the ruse soon enough.”

  Bronwyn closed her eyes as her thoughts filtered back to the day Lily bounded into her room declaring her intentions of marrying Ranulf. Bronwyn gave her head a quick shake, realizing she had been diverted by his last comment. “Maybe eventually, but go back to where you left off—unhappy about being forced north to wed the most beautiful girl of Cumbria. Something every unattached man in the Hills dreams about, but you dreaded.”

  In a deft move, Ranulf gave Bronwyn’s elbow a sharp tug, swiftly yanking her over his knee. After swatting her playfully on her behind, he flipped her over and kissed her long and hard. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I have always thought so and you know it. Now, interrupt again and I shall assume you are no longer interested in tomorrow but in other more entertaining things.”

  Bronwyn narrowed her eyes, but their mischievous twinkle countered the feigned glare. She pressed her lips together in a mocking attempt to show him that she intended to say nothing more.

  “In response to the other part of your comment, I did journey to Hunswick with orders to marry Lillabet, but I had decided prior to my arrival that I would delay the inevitable for as long as possible. At the time, I did not consider sending you three away from Hunswick and back to your family estate a forfeiture of either promise—the one to protect or the one to marry. Then fortune brought you to my side.”

  Bronwyn reached over and laid a hand on the wound that had brought them together. Ranulf clasped his fingers over hers and took a deep breath. “I knew almost from the beginning you were the only one I would marry, despite my promise to your father or my king’s wishes.”

  “Surely that wouldn’t raise the king’s ire, since what he truly wanted was for you to be married.”

  “That is what I believed and most likely would have been correct if I hadn’t intentionally broke a certain promise made by King Henry’s predecessor.”

  Bronwyn scrunched her forehead, then a second later, her expression went grim with understanding. “You mean King Stephen’s promise to Luc.”

  “Marrying you when you were pledged to the baron and I was promised to Lillabet could have been explained, but my interference in assuring Edythe and Lily were also protected is not as defensible. If there had been more time, I could have journeyed to London, met with the king, who most likely would have negated King Stephen’s promise. Instead, I had us all wed under the eyes of God and law, something both the baron and the king will have to honor.”

  “But I thought you said King Henry valued justice. Surely he will realize it was the right thing to do.”

  Ranulf winced and halfway nodded before shaking his head. “I expect Henry would have appreciated the sentiment behind my decision, but he is a pragmatist. And in this matter I agree. If my men began determining which orders to obey and which to overrule, people would die. Same with noblemen. When one noble interferes with another’s rights, chaos ensues and countries fall.”

  “But even the king must realize there are exceptions.”

  “So early in his reign? No. He must establish his authority. And my long-standing allegiance doesn’t help my cause, it hurts it. For out of all his commanders, I knew what I was doing when I attacked the baron’s land and dwelling and how Henry would react.”

  Bronwyn stood up and began to pace in front of Ranulf, whose soft voice frightened her more than anything he had yet said. “I don’t understand. How is retaliating against a man who tried to kill your wife not justified?”

  Ranulf bunched some of the furs together, leaned back against them, and watched Bronwyn walk back and forth in the small enclosure. “I started the battle—and I ended it—but the king’s overarching charge when he sent me north was to preserve the peace. He desired England to grow and be united and stop hurting itself with ceaseless battles. But mostly he had other plans for his armies. My men and I slaughtered a fair number of men. And while even now I cannot feel guilty about ending a man’s life who willingly followed Craven’s cowardice and malice, they were able-bodied soldiers who could have, and would have, fought for the king.”

  Bronwyn remembered watching the flames and billows of smoke in the distance as the battle waged. “King Henry should be glad to be rid of such men who would fight and support someone like the baron.”

  “It’s not their deaths that will anger Henry,” Ranulf clarified, “but something far more significant in his eyes.” He waited until Bronwyn paused and had her full attention. “I had no proof that Baron Craven was behind your supposed death. And anyone who was there knew I was not doling out unquestionable justice. I was engaged in revenge. The king cannot allow it to be known that he condoned one of his trusted commanders and newly titled nobles to place his own desire above that of him.”

  “But now you know that Luc did try to kill me. Will that not negate any wrongdoing?”

  Ranulf reached out his hand, and when she placed hers in his, he gave it a gentle tug, causing her to collapse once again beside him. He tucked back a loose lock of hair. “To a degree. At least that is what I am hoping. But know this, King Henry has to make an example out of at least one of us—the baron or me.”

  Bronwyn’s expression stilled and turned serious. “It will be the baron, of course. So tell me, what is your plan? And make sure you tell me just how I can help.”

  “My plan is actually quite simple. We need to get to London and speak with the king before the baron can relate the situation in a far different and far more damning way.”

  Bronwyn’s back stiffened. “But Luc left a few days ago. Hasn’t he met the king already?”

  “Doubtful,” Ranulf replied, twisting a long piece of her honey gold hair around his finger. He gave her a slight smile of merciless glee. “Oh, I assume he has tried to request an immediate audience with the king, but the baron won’t get one. Queen Eleanor prefers all matters of state that are not considered an emergency to be put aside until after Twelfth Night and our young smitten king obliges her. So I doubt the baron is going to get within a stone’s throw of Westminster until tomorrow night during the festivities.”

  “But you can since you have known—”

  Ranulf placed his finger lightly against her lips, preventing her from finishing. “No. King Henry is fair and he wouldn’t show preference in such a way, especially so early in his reign when he is trying to gain his people’s trust.”

  Bronwyn brushed his hand aside and sat back, seeing the lustful sparkle in his eye. The conversation was soon going to end and she still wasn’t sure what Ranulf was planning. “Then how?”

  “I am going to cheat,” Ranulf sighed.

  “Cheat?”

  “No man is above it in battle and this, angel, is a battle, just with different weapons,” Ranulf replied with a matter-of-fact shrug. “I happen to know the king’s favorite baker and he owes me several favors. I was going to arrange to be named the King of the Bean, and in this way I would be able to decree a meeting with Henry and have a chance to plead my case. You,” Ranulf began and then paused as he reached over to pull her up against him, “can corroborate my claims, but mostly you are there to charm our good king and queen.”

  Ranulf pressed his lips against hers, their soft touch sparking to life every nerve in her body. She welcomed his tongue into her mouth and returned the invasion, touching every corner, tasting him, as the sensations he was stirring took over her mind and soul. Then suddenly, as quickly as the kiss began, it stopped.

  Ranulf waited until the love-filled mist cleared from her eyes before continuing. “Yes, I think the king will find it much harder to strip me of my home and title if he knows he is doing the same to you. I’m not sure what your father said or did, but it gained both King Henry’s and Queen Eleanor’s admiration. Maybe your father’s memory
will be enough to grant me leniency.”

  Bronwyn, now recovered, pushed against Ranulf’s chest to stand up, dodging his attempt to pull her back down. “But isn’t the King of the Bean already named? I thought in court the title was determined days before, at the beginning of Twelfthtide…”

  Feigning surrender, Ranulf exhaled deeply and lay back against the pile of furs. “That was King Stephen. Henry doesn’t like doling out such power and only allows the tradition begrudgingly and limitedly. In the past, he offers the bean cake only on Twelfth Night, most of the time well into the evening, giving the lucky winner only a few hours to create his mischief.”

  Bronwyn was about take Ranulf’s extended hand and return to complete what he had started but at the last moment jerked it back and started to pace. “Your plan, while clever, involves a lot of assumptions and therefore a lot of risk. First, it all hinges on you finding this baker and convincing him of making you the Bean King.”

  “Maybe at Hunswick the person who finds the bean is random, but trust me, the king’s baker arranges who receives the favored slice,” Ranulf said, propping himself up, to yank off his tunic. “But yes, I do have to find him.”

  Resuming her swift back-and-forth march, Bronwyn continued, “Fine. Let’s assume you do find the baker and are named this year’s temporary ruler. You will still need to get an audience with the real king.”

  “A most likely event if I find the bean,” Ranulf answered as he stood up to yank off his leggings.

  Ignoring him, Bronwyn asked, “And he is going to let you explain the events and decisions of the past few days?”