One Knight Enchanted: A Medieval Romance (Rogues & Angels Book 1)

by Claire Delacroix

  Rolfe watched her as he waited, puzzled.

  She glanced up at him, dismay gleaming in her eyes. “Last fall, Adalbert took the ague.”

  “But he is recovered?”

  To his dismay, his mother shook her head. “He is dead, Rolfe.”

  Adalbert dead. It was impossible to believe. Rolfe swore softly and stepped away. The homecoming he had anticipated would not occur. Adalbert would not stalk out to the bailey, complaining all the while about his lot. They would not shake hands, as they always did when Rolfe returned home. They would not look into each other’s eyes for a silent moment and see the admiration each had for the other.

  Adalbert would not wink. He always turned away after that wink, bellowing for the ostler and the cook, complaining heartily about the trouble caused by those who arrive unexpectedly at the gates.

  He would not have the opportunity to plague Rolfe with questions. Rolfe realized how much he had been looking forward to sharing his adventures with his older brother. Usually, they talked so much that their meal became stone-cold before they had taken more than a bite.

  It was unthinkable that Adalbert was not at Viandin.

  Rolfe cleared his throat and his words were husky. “He did not suffer?”

  “It was quick,” his mother admitted. “Too quick in one way and too arduous in another.”

  Rolfe’s shoulders sagged in relief, but his mother was not finished. She laid a hand upon his arm. “I have not the will or the strength to administer Viandin, Rolfe, though I have endeavored to do my best in your absence.” Her voice was low with concern. “I hope you will not be disappointed in my efforts when you take the reins of the estate.”

  Take the reins? Rolfe turned to look at his mother for a moment.

  She smiled at him. “You are heir, Rolfe,” she said. “Viandin is yours.”

  All the breath left Rolfe’s lungs. He was no longer a landless younger son, but Lord de Viandin.

  He had something to offer Annelise.

  His mother frowned as she continued. “I must apologize, though, for despite my finest efforts, I was unable to procure a bride for you.”

  “I told you, Mother, that I had met a maiden. She loves me and I love her...”

  “Whimsy!” his mother said. “Even Bertrand tried, without success, to convince a local noblewoman, name of Annelise de Sayerne, to take your hand. I fear that young women are less enamored of matches made without a meeting these days, though I do not know why they should imagine themselves above such sensible solutions.” She patted Rolfe on the cheek even as he marveled at her words. “Perhaps the ladies have need of a taste of your own charm.”

  Rolfe’s lips twitched at her confession. They had tried to match him with Annelise? He was the other suitor she had deemed unfitting? It was the threat of wedding him that had driven her to the convent...and hence to him?

  The coincidence could only make him laugh aloud.

  “Rolfe!” His mother frowned at him. “I should hardly think the matter amusing. Despite the insult that witch Rosalinde granted you, you will have to consider marriage, whether you have the inclination or not. It is part of your responsibility to Viandin to ensure the bloodline continues....” She suddenly fell silent and glared at Rolfe’s hand. “Where is your ring? Surely, you did not lose the token I granted you?” She caught her breath and took a step back. “Surely, you did not sell it?”

  “No, Mother,” Rolfe said with a smile. “It was used to seal the vows between my wife and I.”

  “Wife?”

  “The maiden I spoke of.”

  His mother exhaled in a hiss. “You married? Without consultation? Without any consideration of her lineage or suitability...”

  Rolfe silenced his mother with a touch. “The lady’s name is Annelise de Sayerne.”

  Hildegarde’s eyes widened, then a reluctant smile curved her lips. “Well, does that not take all?” she murmured. “I always knew you had the devil’s own charm. Evidently, you have his luck, as well.” She tweaked Rolfe’s ear and he abandoned his brush, beckoning for the ostler to finish the task.

  “Come, Mother. There is someone I would like you to meet.”

  “I should think so,” his mother retorted. “A wife. And without telling me first.” Her manner was indignant, but the sparkle of delight in her eyes revealed her true feelings. “At least she has the wit to love you. That shows her good sense.”

  Hildegarde and Annelise would get along just fine. Rolfe’s step was light as they left the stables.

  All had come right, just as he had promised his lady wife.

  Annelise was shown to a room to one side of the great hall. She glimpsed the boughs of cedar hung in the larger room and realized that it must be very near the Yule. She had lost track of time in the djinn’s palace. Would it be possible to reach Viandin in time for the festivities? She hoped Tulley did not intend to delay them.

  That lord’s bright gaze locked upon her as he pivoted to face her.

  “Come in, Annelise,” he said, as emotionless as ever.

  Annelise swallowed her fear and obeyed.

  “I had understood that you were to join the Sisters of Ste. Radegund a short time ago,” the overlord said. His gaze flicked over her garments. “Without my permission, I might add. But you do not wear nun’s garb.”

  “I did not return to the convent, sir.” She spoke more demurely than was her inclination. This man held her future in his hands, and Annelise had no intention of annoying him unnecessarily.

  “Why not?”

  “Our party was beset by hunting wolves, sir, after we had lost our way. The man I travel with granted me refuge.”

  Tulley arched a brow. “Indeed. Yves returned here with the others. I sent him on to France, to fight in the tournaments.”

  Annelise bowed, relieved to hear these tidings. “It was his fondest desire, sir.”

  “Yet he was concerned about your fate. He feared the wolves had taken you.”

  “I was more fortunate than that, sir.”

  “Indeed.” Tulley leaned closer. “But why did you abandon Sayerne in the first place? I did not grant you leave to do so.”

  “But you summoned Quinn.” Annelise shuddered. “I could not simply await him there.”

  Tulley’s gaze turned assessing and he settled back in his chair. “You have no reason to fear your brother.”

  “It seems to be only good sense, given the tales I have heard of Quinn’s cruelty.”

  Tulley arched a brow. “But from whom did you hear those tales?”

  “From my father.”

  His gaze locked with hers, as resolute as ever. “A man we both know to be of somewhat unsavory character.”

  Annelise saw in Tulley’s gaze that he knew what had transpired at Sayerne all those years past. “You knew!” she breathed. “You knew and yet you did nothing.”

  “On the contrary, I did all that I could!” Tulley’s tone was savage. He pushed to his feet and paced the room, his frustration evident. “Law maintains that a man cannot be accused of a crime without evidence or witness, Annelise. There was neither! I had no option but to send you away and secure your safety, and that was what I did.”

  Silence reigned while Annelise came to terms with this news.

  “So now you would compel me to return to Sayerne.”

  Tulley looked surprised. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because Quinn is not home and I am the only other legitimate child. I am not a fool, sir, so pray do not treat me as one.”

  Tulley smiled before he sobered again. “Trust me, Annelise, even if that were the case I have learned my lesson about leaving a woman—heiress or no—in charge of an estate. No, I would find a man I could trust and grant the estate to him on the condition he wed you.”

  Annelise parted her lips but Tulley raised a finger imperiously, commanding her silence.

  “But that prospect is not before you. I have had word that Quinn will shortly return home to claim his legacy.” The o
verlord fixed his gaze upon Annelise. “Which leaves the issue of what to do with you. Perhaps Quinn had best resolve the matter.”

  “I will not wait for my brother, regardless of what you deem his character to be,” Annelise said. “I have made my own choice...”

  “I would never have permitted you to wed Enguerrand de Roussineau, regardless of how appealing his entreaties might have been!” Tulley jabbed his finger through the air at an astonished Annelise. “I was absent for but a month and all nearly came awry. I would have seen that match annulled, if I had to ride to Rome myself to make it so.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly.” Tulley spoke with vigor. “The line of Roussineau is so badly tainted that the only sensible course is to let its seed die out.” He inhaled. “I should not say it aloud, but praise be that fool rode to hunt. The wolves have saved me a great deal of trouble.”

  “I never wanted to wed Enguerrand,” Annelise admitted.

  “Truly?”

  “Truly.” Annelise smiled as her overlord considered her.

  He frowned. “Perhaps you should return to the convent. Although, I would be more inclined to spend coin upon a dowry than a convent donation.” His gaze flicked to hers. “At least then your allegiance could yield tangible benefits.”

  At that meager encouragement, Annelise took a deep breath and unclasped her hands. Tulley, who missed very little, immediately spied Rolfe’s ring upon her left hand. He rose to his feet again, his eyes flashing. “Tell me you did not wed without my permission.”

  “I did, sir.” Annelise swallowed. “It seemed only fitting, sir, especially as the knight and I were sequestered alone together at night, and he had saved my life.”

  Tulley exhaled, his gaze falling to the ring again. “And who performed the nuptial mass?”

  “We exchanged a pledge with each other,” Annelise replied. “I have heard that such vows hold weight.”

  “Yes,” Tulley admitted to her relief. “Among villeins, that practice is prevalent enough. Who might this knight be? Is the match fitting?”

  “He returns from Outremer where he has been on crusade.”

  Tulley’s eyes gleamed. “I find these credentials promising, but has he a holding?”

  “No, my lord,” Annelise was compelled to admit. “He is a younger son.”

  Tulley frowned at her in disapproval. “Impetuous,” he muttered. “And what is his name?”

  “Rolfe de Viandin.”

  “Rolfe de Viandin! Let me see that ring.”

  Annelise showed it to the older man, who threw back his head and laughed. “Annelise! This was the knight you refused!”

  Annelise blinked. “I do not believe as much, sir...”

  “Yes, you did. Bertrand said that when he presented Hildegarde’s offer for your hand in marriage to her son, you declined and chose the convent instead. Hildegarde’s son is Rolfe de Viandin.”

  Annelise was astonished.

  “And he is a younger son without a holding no more, Annelise,” Tulley continued. “His brother has died.”

  “How terrible. He will be disappointed by the loss.”

  “But not by the gain, if he is a man of good sense.” Tulley fixed her with a look. “Is he?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That is good news indeed.” Tulley’s eyes gleamed with amusement and satisfaction. “To think that I feared I might not be able to encourage you to make this match. It is a good one, Annelise, and an alliance I deem most fitting for you.”

  Annelise raised her hands to her mouth, not daring to laugh in her delight. Then Tulley grinned and Annelise could not help but smile in return. She sobered then, recalling her manners. “I am sorry to hear of Rolfe’s brother’s demise...”

  “And his mother Hildegarde will undoubtedly welcome your condolences.”

  “His mother?”

  “She is here, Annelise.”

  Annelise’s heart leaped for fear that Rolfe’s mother might not approve of her.

  “What is it?” Tulley demanded, his gaze as shrewd as ever.

  “I hope the lady does not take affront that I dared to wed her son without her permission.”

  “I shall ensure that she does not.” Tulley eyed her. “In fact, we should make the most of this opportunity to see your vows exchanged again before witnesses.”

  “My lord?”

  Tulley crossed the chamber with purpose, claiming Annelise’s elbow. “Come along, Annelise. Bertrand will summon the priest and the hall is festive. We shall see those vows of yours exchanged again this very night and duly celebrated. I want none to question the alliance your spouse and I will make.”

  Annelise could scarce believe her good fortune. How could she have doubted that all would come right in the end? Tulley escorted her into the great hall and she saw Rolfe on the far side, with an older noblewoman. She had dark hair and as Annelise stepped closer, she saw that the woman had eyes just like Rolfe’s. One was blue and one silver-gray.

  Would their children have such eyes? She could not wait to know for certain.

  “Rolfe! We are to be wed this very night!” Annelise ran across the great hall and he swung her into his arms with a grin.

  “We are wed, my Annelise,” he corrected and punctuated his words with a kiss. “And we shall stay that way forevermore.”

  Indeed, Annelise could not have hoped for greater promise than that.

  Epilogue

  It was in the fall of 1102 that Annelise’s labor contractions began.

  Rolfe was banned from the solar at Viandin and found himself in the hall with little to do but wait. His wife’s cries made him cringe, but he avoided both drink and companionship. He paced the length of the hall and back, time and again.

  Childbirth carried no small risk and he feared for Annelise’s welfare. Rolfe recalled every moment he had spent with his beloved wife and knew that there had not been enough of those moments to satisfy him. She had taught him so much about love, given him a faith in the unseen, shared with him her passion for life and all its joys.

  He had so much, but he wanted only more.

  Twilight crept into the hall and lengthened the shadows. A servant silently lit the candles then departed, leaving Rolfe with his concerns. Annelise’s cries reached a new crescendo and Rolfe stared upward, his mouth dry.

  If he should lose her this night—no, he could not think of it. His mother’s voice, low and reassuring, carried to his ears as Annelise’s cry subsided.

  Rolfe shuddered to think what his wife endured.

  And what had he given her in return? His love, his commitment, his protection. The balance seemed rather thin to Rolfe, especially in light of this night’s ordeal. A new mother deserved a gift, but Rolfe knew well enough that Annelise would not care for jewelry or other finery.

  He must grant her a gift from the heart. It must be intangible, to show her that he had learned the value of things unseen. It must be something she could not hold but that might make her life more complete.

  Rolfe thought of Sayerne. He had sent a message to Sayerne in May when the company had vowed to meet again. Annelise had been so ill early in her pregnancy and he had not wanted to risk a long ride. It would have taken them a week to reach Sayerne, and he had feared she might lose the child. He could have gone alone to see his comrades, but had not wanted to leave her in her distress, even in the care of his mother.

  Perhaps it was time to invite Quinn to come to them.

  Rolfe distracted himself that day with the task of writing an invitation to Quinn. If he could heal the scar of Annelise’s past by uniting brother and sister again, that truly would be a gift worthy of his bride.

  He had no sooner sealed the missive and placed it into a runner’s hand than Annelise screamed with greater vigor. Rolfe muttered a curse and lunged up the stairs to the solar. His mother could not keep him from the chamber in such a moment. He would be with Annelise for the last of her ordeal.

  Annelise awakened as the first rays of the
sun slanted through the solar window. The room was lit with a rosy gold glow, its hue reminding her of the good djinn. Without Azima’s influence, she and Rolfe would not be so happy together.

  Even better, she had given Rolfe a son.

  Annelise was tired and sore, but so filled with joy that she was more content than ever she had been. The midwife had cleaned both Annelise and the chamber before leaving a few hours earlier, then Rolfe’s mother had retired, as well. Annelise had been left alone with her husband and son.

  She had slept, but Rolfe, she knew, had not.

  Even now, he rocked his son at the foot of the bed, the sunlight glinting in his dark hair. Annelise watched him make faces at the babe for a few moments before he realized she was awake.

  “Sleep well?” he murmured.

  “How could I not, with you standing guard?” she whispered, not wanting to startle the baby. Rolfe smiled and she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. Her heart swelled that he had been with her at the last and most difficult part of the delivery. His strength had made the pain easier to bear. Their gazes locked for a long, potent moment, one that made her hope she could soon consider giving him another child.

  Then the babe let forth a healthy cry.

  Rolfe flicked a glance downward at their son. “Do you think he is jealous?”

  Annelise laughed. “I think he is perfect.”

  “Not as perfect as his mother.”

  “He might be hungry.” She opened her arms. “He did not take much the last time.”

  Rolfe lowered the babe into her embrace, so gentle that the child might have been made of spun glass. Annelise was awed by the tiny burden of their son and could scarce believe their good fortune. Rolfe sat beside her, his hand beneath the weight of the babe so that she could unfasten her chemise. His other hand brushed over her bare shoulder and along her cheek, leaving her flesh tingling in the wake of his caress. She nestled the boy against her and urged him to the breast. She thought she was clumsy with the task, but Rolfe watched her with glowing eyes, his confidence feeding her own. The babe settled in to suckle, and Annelise met her husband’s gaze.