A smile flickered on his lips. “I am deeply honored,” he said. “But I heard Peter address you as something else.”
Her brow furrowed briefly until she realized what he meant. “Oh,” she said. “That. Growing up, my younger siblings had a difficult time pronouncing Christin, so it came out as Cissy. That is what my family calls me – Cissy.”
“May I?”
The request had her heart fluttering again. “If you wish.”
“I do.”
With that, he quit the chamber and shut the door, leaving Christin standing by the hearth, biting her lip because the smile on her face threatened to split it in two. She hadn’t really been looking forward to the journey back to Norwich, but now she was.
Definitely… she was.
CHAPTER FOUR
He was trying very hard not to look at her.
They were a day out of Norwich on their journey north and Alexander had never wanted a long, insufferable trip to keep going so much in his entire life.
God, he was losing his mind.
Something both frightening and wonderful was happening to him.
Since that night at The Buck and Boar, Alexander looked at Christin differently. Or perhaps it had started even before that, when he’d entered de Vaston’s great solar and saw her covered with blood and a dead woman at her feet. Even then, she’d been as composed as any seasoned knight. Perhaps his notice of a strong young woman had started then.
But now, it was growing stronger.
In order to keep his attention off of her because he was fearful that Peter might catch on to his interest in her, he’d kept away from her after that first night. The trip from London to Norwich was usually a five-day trip, depending on the weather and any number of factors, but they’d made good time in spite of the rain that had come in waves.
Alexander had ridden at the head of their escort, keeping conversation to a minimum since chatty knights tended to be less in tune with their surroundings and potential threats. Therefore, travel was quiet, with Christin positioned between her brother and Bric, with Kevin watching their backs. Every so often, Alexander would hear Christin and Peter conversing quietly. Then he’d turn around, casually, and glance at the dark-haired beauty. Most of the time, she would smile politely at him. But he wouldn’t smile in return. He would face forward before he’d let a smile play on his lips.
That had been the second day.
They’d spent the night at an inn that wasn’t nearly the glory of The Buck and Boar, traveled all the next day in a driving rainstorm, and then spent that night in the common room of a tavern that was so full, people were sleeping in the kitchens.
It hadn’t been ideal.
Alexander had remained away most of the night while Christin slept and the knights rotated in and out of sleep, keeping vigilant watch until an hour before dawn when Christin awoke and insisted on taking her turn at the watch. Alexander had declined, but she’d pressed, until finally he pretended to sleep simply to please her. She’d spent the time watching the room like a hawk, her bejeweled, sharp dagger in her hand.
He’d spent the time watching her through slit lids.
Now, they would be arriving at Norwich by nightfall and he was sorry to see it end. Once they reached Norwich, his chances to see her or speak with her would be few and far between, although he didn’t know why he was worrying about it considering he’d barely spoken to her since The Buck and Boar.
Now, he was coming to regret that decision in the slightest.
The day, surprisingly, was one without rain. A bright, blue sky reigned overhead with puffy white clouds pushed along by the breeze. There was a chill to the air, however, but there was enough sun and wind to dry out the roads a little, making them somewhat easier to travel on. They’d made good time on this day, coming into the outskirts of Norwich proper as they entered a village without an official name, but the locals called it Stratton.
The daughter of the richest merchant in town had been married earlier in the day and the entire village had been invited to the feast. People were out in droves, drinking and laughing, and as the five of them headed into the heart of the village, they could see that great tables of food and drink had been laid out all over the square.
On a grassy area near the well, they had two giant spits going with two big sides of beef, and an entire area in the center of town was dedicated to barrels upon barrels of ale. The entire town seemed to be wildly drunk, which was quite amusing. They had garlands in their hands of autumn greenery, mostly evergreen branches woven with purple asters. A group of giggling young women handed a garland to Christin, who didn’t look quite sure what to do with it.
“Put it on your head,” Alexander told her. “It is a celebration.”
She looked at him, smiling wanly as she pulled off the hood of her cloak and put the purple flower garland on her head.
Alexander’s willpower to leave her alone fled.
She looked like an angel with the flowers around her dark hair, which was braided and draped over one shoulder. Alexander grinned at her, the first smile in days, and his gaze lingered on her a little longer than it should have. Realizing that he was looking at her like a besotted fool, he quickly shifted his focus and looked to the others in their group.
“Would you turn down free food and drink?” he asked them. “We have made excellent time to Norwich and, even now, the castle is less than an hour away. Mayhap we could all do with some frivolity before the seriousness begins.”
Peter was already sliding off of his horse, followed by Kevin. Bric seemed a little more reluctant because he wasn’t one for frivolity, but free drink was enough of a lure. With a heavy sigh, he dismounted his horse, taking the reins from Peter and Kevin, as they were nearly pawing the ground in their haste to get to the food, women, and drink. Once he took their horses, they ran off into the crowd.
“I will take your horses and sell them,” Bric called after them. When there was literally no response from the overeager knights, Bric shook his head. “Oh, to be young and foolish.”
Alexander dismounted behind him, so did Christin. “Mayhap,” Alexander said. “I think it is more that there is so little time for merriment given the tasks we undertake that any chance for it has us reliving our youth. There is little time for anything but duty in our lives these days.”
Bric understood that. Given that he served de Winter at Narborough, he had a little more time away from William Marshal than most of them, so he forced himself to be tolerant. The crusty Irishman had that capacity, sometimes. Taking the reins of Alexander’s horse and Christin’s horse, he headed off towards the livery at the edge of the village.
That left Alexander standing with Christin as they watched the party going on around them. He could see her in his periphery, standing there with the garland of purple flowers around her head, and he realized that he wasn’t sorry at all that Peter had run off and left his sister alone.
She wasn’t alone at all, fortunately for him.
He turned to her.
“My lady?” he said, offering her his elbow. “Shall we find the food and drink?”
Christin looked at him with some hesitation, an expression that turned to confusion when he smiled at her encouragingly.
“You… want me to go with you?” she asked.
“And why not?”
Her well-arched eyebrows lifted. “Because…” she began, then trailed off. “My lord, did I do something to anger you?”
He lowered his elbow. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“Because you spent the past three days ignoring me and behaving as if I had upset you,” she said frankly. “I assume you are speaking to me again? If that is the case, I must apologize for whatever I did.”
He knew exactly what she meant and confusion began to swamp him. He thought he’d been quite neutral in his behavior towards her other than the fact he wouldn’t look at her, but as bright as she was, she noticed. And she’d been thinking about it, concerned
that she had angered him somehow. That made him suspect that, perhaps, she might be thinking of him beyond a simple working associate and that’s what he didn’t want.
… but he did.
God help him, he did.
“You have done nothing,” he said quietly, with some resignation. “It is simply that my mind has been… elsewhere. I am sorry if you thought I was angry with you.”
Relief filled her features; he could see it. “I am very glad to hear that,” she said. “I thought I had said something to upset you.”
“You could not upset me, I assure you.”
She nodded her head in the direction of the partygoers. “Then I will find food and drink with you,” she said. “And if you are not upset with me, mayhap you will tell me more of yourself. The last time, we spoke of me. This time, we shall speak of you.”
His lips twisted unhappily. “Must we?”
“Is your life so boring that I will be in tears, begging you to shut your mouth?”
He burst into laughter. The elbow extended again. “We shall find out.”
With a grin, Christin took his elbow, following him into a crowd that was quite drunk. There were big barrels of ale that had been brought out for the occasion and Alexander took two very large cups of ale from the man doling out the drink, handing one over to Christin. She took it, taking a big gulp of it and coughing because it was quite strong. But she took another drink because she was thirsty. Alexander laughed softly at her sputtering reaction to the ale, taking his own swallow and nearly choking on it himself. He made a face but they continued on to the food.
To their right, two dozen villagers were engaging in a dance that had the women in a circle in the middle and the men in a circle on the outside. There was a group of minstrels on instruments that needed to be tuned, but they were playing lively music. Before them was one long table comprised of several pushed together, all of the tables filled with food.
There was roast beef, pies with more meat and carrots and apples, stuffed eggs, a variety of breads, and little puddings with honey and butter drizzled on them. They ended up standing at the table and just eating off it rather than grabbing food and going somewhere to share the bounty. Christin was fond of the stuffed eggs while Alexander tore off big hunks of the beef. For every egg she ate, she downed a big swallow of that strong, terrible ale.
“Now that I know you are not angry with me,” she said, mouth full, “will you tell me of Alexander the Great?”
He had to swallow the massive bite in his mouth before he could speak. “Who has called me that?”
“No one. Just me. But based upon your reputation, I am quite certain it is the truth.”
He smirked. “Very funny,” he said. “What do you wish to know?”
Christin took another bite of her egg as she gazed up at him quite openly. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “where were you born?”
“At a place called Ashdown,” he said. “It is my family’s home.”
“Where is it?”
“Near Warminster,” he said. “My family is a very old one. We were here before the Normans came but I had a very wise ancestor who married his daughter to a Norman lord, so we were able to keep our lands and our homes.”
Christin was listening with great interest. “Does your family still live at Ashdown?”
“Indeed. My father does, anyway.”
“No brothers?”
Alexander nodded. “I had two,” he said. “They were both killed on Richard’s Crusade.”
“I see,” she said, sympathy in her expression. “I am sorry if it is painful to speak of them. I did not mean to bring up sad memories.”
He looked at her, warmth glimmering in his dark eyes. “You did not,” he said. “It is no longer painful to speak of them, though the sorrow for their passing is still there. It will always be there. My father entrusted me to take care of my brothers and I failed, so I have not been home in many years.”
There was a hint of something darker, sadder, in that comment, but Christin wasn’t sure she should ask him any further questions about his family since it seemed to be a brittle subject.
“I could not imagine staying away from Lioncross Abbey,” she said, drinking her ale. “I was born there, along with all of my siblings. My mother’s family has lived there for centuries. They, too, are of Saxon blood.”
“What is the family name?”
“Barringdon.”
Alexander shoved more beef into his mouth. “I have met your mother,” he said. “A beautiful woman. It is clear where you get your beauty.”
So he was back to more flattery. Christin wasn’t sure how to react and she could feel the familiar flush creep into her cheeks. She simply wasn’t used to being paid a compliment and she abhorred the games of flirtation that men and women played. She’d witnessed enough of that at Thunderbey Castle, and at Norwich Castle, and she’d always ignored it. Any man who tried to flatter her was either verbally speared or disregarded. But she couldn’t manage to do either with Alexander. All she could do was change the subject.
Again.
“My father fought with King Richard, too,” she said. “Did you know my father in The Levant?”
Alexander nodded. “The Lion’s Claw?” he said, speaking the nickname that Christopher had earned those years ago. “He was the king’s champion. I have never seen a fiercer man, although your uncle was fairly fierce himself.”
“That was so long ago,” she said. “Well before I was born. You must have been very young.”
He snorted. “I was,” he said. “I had barely seen twenty years, but youth did not make me inexperienced. I had a great deal of experience even before I went to The Levant.”
“Why?”
“Because I served John Marshal back then, who was William Marshal’s older brother,” he said. “I fostered at Marlborough Castle, a holding of the elder Marshal. When he was killed, I swore fealty to the king and went to The Levant.”
She cocked her head thoughtfully. “If you were barely twenty years when you went to The Levant, that was almost twenty years ago,” she said. “That makes you…”
“Old,” he cut her off, grinning.
“And you have never married?”
His smile faded. “Nay,” he said. “I have never had the time.”
“Will you inherit Ashdown?”
“Someday.”
“Then you should have an heir,” she said firmly, looking around at all of the women with flowers in their hair. “I shall help you find a wife. Every man wants an heir.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to discuss this subject, mostly because the only woman he was attracted to was standing next to him and he barely knew her. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by saying the wrong things. To avoid that problem altogether, he simply shook his head.
“Thank you, but that is not necessary,” he said. “When the time is right, I shall find my own wife.”
“But you said yourself that you’ve not had the time,” she said, swallowing more of that strong ale. “Look around you; there are many young maidens here that I am sure would make fine wives.”
He laughed nervously, taking another gulp of that cheap ale, too, now because he needed it. He needed the fortification. She was pushing him into a corner and for a man who was always in control, always sure of everything in his life, he was feeling unsteady with the conversation.
But it wasn’t just the subject.
He went to take another drink of the ale but realized he’d drained it. It was a very big cup. Christin had drained hers, too, and she was becoming quite animated. And pushy. It occurred to him that the strong ale was stronger than he thought because he felt like he did when he had four or five big cups of the more refined, better processed stuff.
Giddy.
God help him, he was tipsy.
“I do not want to talk about wives,” he said. “Besides, it is unseemly for you and me to discuss such a thing. We are both unmarried. Did that not occur to you
?”
She looked at him in horror. “Now you are angry with me.”
“Nay, I am not, but no more talk of wives.”
“I am sorry. I did not mean to be forward.”
He shook his head, taking the cup out of her grip and setting it on the table. Then, he took her hand and began pulling her towards the dancing, something he would not have ordinarily done had he not been feeling his drink.
“Come,” he said in a voice that could very easily be interpreted as seductive. “I wish to dance.”
But Christin dug her heels in. “But there are many other young women who would love to dance with you.”
“I do not want to dance with them.”
“But I cannot dance!”
“All young women can dance.”
“Please,” she begged. “Truly, I would look like a clod out there. I have never been able to dance. I will only shame myself and you.”
He wasn’t listening to her, smiling as he pulled her into a group that had already started to dance. “Hush,” he said quietly. “Look into my eyes; that’s right. Look right at me. Do what I say and you shall dance beautifully.”
Christin was terrified. Drunk and terrified, but thank God for the drink or else she wouldn’t have been able to go through with it. She wanted to dance with him because she simply wanted to be near him. All of the resistance and inhibitions she had been feeling towards him now had an outlet and she gladly let them through. She let him put her palm up against his and pull her rather close.
“Now,” he said softly. “Take a few steps back and then a few steps towards me again. That’s right; well done, Cissy.”
Cissy. She’d never heard her name sound so sweet. Coming from him, it sounded like the voice of angels. At that moment, Christin let everything go so she could experience something she never really had – dancing with, and being close to, someone she was attracted to. That had never happened before. Alexander had her dancing next to him, turning her around at the appropriate time to spin, then pulling her right back against him in beat with the music.
The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 6