A Merry Medieval Christmas: Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Blaise glanced at Alexander. He could believe that of his friend. His gaze moved around the room. One of the knights leaned forward to speak earnestly to his squire. Another was arm wrestling. Still another was taking a large bite out of a leg of lamb he gripped in his big hand. He couldn’t believe all of these men came for a woman. No woman was as beautiful as that. No woman deserved that kind of admiration from so many knights. The only thing that was important was winning. “Fools,” Blaise grumbled.

  Alexander threw back his head and laughed. “I’ll make you a wager. Your horse against mine.”

  “My horse?” Blaise gaped. Then his eyes narrowed. “What wager?”

  “That you cannot resist the fair Lady Jaclyn.”

  “What do you mean by resist?” Blaise was well aware of how devious and manipulative Alexander could be.

  “Not want to kiss her. Not want to spend time with her. Not want to wed her.”

  “Wed?” Blaise guffawed. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “Pick one. I’ve kissed many women I’d had no intention of wedding.”

  Alexander tilted his head as if summing Blaise up. He pursed his lips in contemplation. “Bedding. That your cock will not stand stiff when you but lay eyes on her.”

  Blaise scoffed. “Done!”

  Jaclyn raced out of the castle. She wanted to get away, just run from all of it. She felt as if she were barely holding everything together. Paul was absolutely no help; he was drinking all of the time or sleeping. It wasn’t as though she wanted to shirk her responsibilities; she just wanted one peaceful moment to gather her wits.

  She ducked beneath the raised portcullis and raced across the drawbridge as several knights called a greeting to her.

  Most of the knights who were going to be participating in the joust had already arrived and she could see numerous tents dotting the field in the distance. There were too many of them to house within the castle, so many of them had pitched tents and pavilions in the field surrounding the castle.

  She ran away from them. The last thing she wanted to do was come into contact with a knight who wanted to wed her. Not right now. She knew this joust was important to her father. It was his dying wish that the tournament continue and she marry the winner. Truth be told, it was much too late to call it off. She knew now, as she had then, that he only wanted the strongest and bravest as her husband. She didn’t blame him. Not really, although the thought of being the prize made her skin crawl.

  She and Paul were going to prevent that. The Mistletoe Knight would have to joust again. Once he won, she would have the time to get to know one of the knights and perhaps fall in love. She would have time to pick a knight of her own choosing. She could choose her prize, instead of being the prize. It would all work out. That wasn’t what was bothering her at the moment.

  She felt overwhelmed by it all. Setting up the feasts and the joust, and making sure there was enough food and ale for all the knights, for all her guests. It was on her shoulders. From where they would sleep, to controlling the fights that would undoubtedly break out, to the celebration of the joust. People looked to her for every little thing.

  She picked up her skirts and raced through the long grass, running until her heart pounded and her breathing came in quick gasps. She just wanted to be away, just for a moment. She burst into the forest, the overgrown path familiar to her. She raced past the tall trees, weaving in and out of the weed-covered ground. She dashed toward the pond. Above her, the branches of the forest canopied. The first cluster of mistletoe grew on the tree to her right.

  The mass of leaves a cluster on the bare branches of the trees, the familiar green leaves with white berries.

  Jaclyn slowed her run to a walk to look up at the leaves. She had always loved the mistletoe. She believed it would bring her good fortune after her father had told her it was magical. She had come this way a long time ago, the first time she had ever held the mistletoe branch in her hands. She had thought to hide it, to protect it. But the birds had found it. When she had returned the following day, she found a bird eating the last of the white berries. It flew up into the air with the mistletoe in its mouth.

  That had been many years ago...

  Jaclyn stepped through the trees growing beside the pond. Mistletoe grew in every tree, surrounding the pond. She smiled. A lot of birds lived in the forest. They were spreading the magic far and wide.

  She sat on the ground, in the original spot where she hid the very first mistletoe. The spot was always peaceful to her. Secluded. Private. She could gather her thoughts and her courage here. It was, indeed, a magical spot.

  The sun was setting over the lands. It cast an orange hue over the landscape. It made the pond appear black.

  That was when she realized there were no birds chirping. No crickets. No noise at all.

  Jaclyn straightened. Something was wrong. She slowly stood, scanning the forest around her. A moment ago she had thought to hide in the long dark shadows, but now they felt suddenly ominous. She turned her head to listen for sound, but heard nothing but absolute quiet. Then, she heard the rustle of clothing and spun.

  A man with golden hair stood before her. He was tall, her head only coming to his chest. He wore that familiar grin that made her stomach twist like a cloak being wrung after washing. His jaw was square, his nose perfectly straight and aquiline, his face chiseled perfection. His lips were a slash of sensual promise. Even though it had been a long time, she recognized him immediately.

  He looked around her sanctuary. “It’s changed.”

  A smile blossomed over her lips. She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him. “Many things have changed.” She couldn’t help the happiness that flamed to life inside of her.

  His gaze settled on her and he smiled with dazzling white teeth.

  She was so glad to see him! She launched herself into his arms, almost toppling him. “Alexander,” she sighed. His rumble of laughter warmed her and his embrace brought her back to when they were young children roaming these forests. Then she pulled away to slug him in the arm and scowl fiercely at him. “Where have you been?”

  “Many lords have required my services. I finally snuck away from them all because I could not bear to be away from you any longer.”

  She grunted softly. “Your many ladies may believe that, but I don’t. Where have you been?”

  Suddenly, she noticed another shadow behind Alexander.

  Jaclyn gasped as the second man came into view. Where Alexander was golden, this man was dark. His hair hung to his shoulders in black waves. Dark eyes gazed at her, catching the orange sun and sparking as if they held fire. His skin was darkly tanned, attesting to many days in the hot sun. His gait was confident and arrogant as he moved to Alexander’s side. He assessed her with a sweeping glance.

  Alexander looked from her to the other man. “Blaise, may I present the lady Jaclyn.”

  Again, that sweeping glance from those dark eyes unnerved her. His eyes were almost possessive in their manner. Finally, he bowed slightly. “M’lady.”

  Jaclyn glanced angrily at Alexander. How could he bring a stranger to her sanctuary? Why would he do that? “Welcome to Fainswick. This isn’t really the greeting I would have given you if we had been introduced at the castle.” She cast an accusatory glare at Alexander.

  Alexander grinned. “I thought this a more opportune moment to see you alone.” He shrugged. “Besides, as I said, I could not bear to be away from you any longer.”

  Jaclyn rolled her eyes. “Please Alexander, save your flattery for the more naive maids.”

  Blaise smiled.

  Alexander placed his hand on heart. “You wound me.”

  “I will wound you if you don’t stop.” She glanced at Blaise. “Alexander and I grew up together. I know all of his tricks.”

  “Ah! We’ve been friends for only a few years. I fear I have yet to learn his many skills.”

  Jaclyn nodded. “I’ll gladly teach you. He uses them much too freely!” />
  “I’d like that.”

  “Wait just a moment!” Alexander exclaimed. “This hardly seems fair. I did, after all, introduce you.”

  Jaclyn faced him with her hands on her hips. “Then tell me where you have been.”

  Alexander sighed softly. “Attending the jousts.” His voice turned serious. “I’m sorry I didn’t return when your father died.”

  For the first time, Jaclyn realized how much she had missed him. She could have used his support, his comfort. “You should have been here.”

  “I’m afraid that was my fault,” Blaise said. “We were in the middle of the Middleton Tourney and I needed Alexander. He was working as my squire after mine was injured.”

  She looked at Blaise. His brow was lifted slightly and Jaclyn got the distinct impression he was covering for Alexander. “How did you do?”

  “I won,” Blaise stated simply.

  “He always wins,” Alexander added, slapping Blaise on the back.

  Tingles of apprehension swept through Jaclyn. Always wins? Blaise! her mind screamed. “D’Sayre,” she whispered.

  He furrowed his brow and nodded. “You’ve heard of me?”

  Oh, she’d heard of him, all right! Lord Blaise D’Sayre. She nodded numbly. “You were unhorsed by the Mistletoe Knight.”

  Blaise’s look darkened. His jaw clenched. And it was his eyes, his flashing eyes, that she recognized. “Aye,” he growled.

  This was her enemy, not someone to befriend. She had to tell herself that he didn’t know Paul’s secret. He didn’t know. She was safe. She lifted her chin. “Then you don’t always win.” She whirled and headed back to the castle, her knees shaking, her palms sweaty.

  Alexander choked down a laugh.

  Blaise cast him a scorching look.

  Alexander cleared his throat. “Sorry, old boy. She must have developed that arrogance while I was gone.”

  “I don’t think she likes me.”

  Alexander shrugged. “You are her brother’s opponent.”

  “And future husband.”

  “Only if you win.”

  Blaise whirled on Alexander, glaring at him. “You doubt I can?”

  “No,” Alexander said, staring after Jaclyn’s path. “I know you can win. I just don’t know if you will.”

  Blaise shoved Alexander. “Either way, you owe me your horse.”

  Jaclyn raced through the hallways of the castle, searching room after room. Where the devil was Paul? She had to warn him that D'Sayre was here. Finally, she paused at one of the open windows in the hallway to stare out over her lands. It was dark now and most of her people were preparing for sleep. The courtyard below was silent except for someone singing in a loud voice. She leaned further over the ledge to figure out where the voice was coming from.

  The well.

  She sprinted down the hallway, down the spiral stairway and raced out the double doors. The well was in the middle of the courtyard. As she approached, the garbled singing proclaimed, “...a willing wench... a limp bisket... I really don’t know how the rest goes.”

  “Paul!” Jaclyn called in a hushed voice.

  Paul lay beside the well, a flask of ale beside him. “Ah! There is my wonderful sister!”

  Jaclyn grabbed his arm, pulling him into a sitting position. “Get up,” she whispered.

  “Have you looked at the stars lately? I believe they are winking at me.”

  “Of course they are. Now, on your feet.”

  Paul tried to climb to his feet, but fell backward, pulling Jaclyn down. He put a heavy hand against her cheek. “You are a good girl, you know that?”

  “Paul,” Jaclyn pleaded. “Please. We have guests. You can’t be seen like this.”

  “They all know me. What am I hiding?” He yanked his arm from her hold and sat back down. “Oh. Yes. Yes. The fact that I can’t hold a lance.”

  “Shhh!” Jaclyn whispered. “No one thinks that.”

  “Oh. Yes. The fact that I can’t sword fight.”

  “Paul!” Jaclyn shook him. “Stop it. Someone will hear you.”

  “My poor sister. First father goes and dies, leaving you with a poor sop of a brother. Then you realize you must run the castle because your brother would rather drink ale than tend these miserable villagers. Poor, poor Jaclyn.”

  Jaclyn sat back on her heels, staring at Paul. “That’s not true. You can run the castle.”

  “No more than I can ride a horse.”

  “Well, if you stopped drinking, you wouldn’t fall off.”

  “Yes, well, it does numb the pain.” He lifted the flask to his lips.

  Jaclyn took the flask and tossed it over her head into the well.

  “Jac... Jacie! That was mine.” He stood to his feet and leaned over the edge of the well, looking into the darkness below.

  At least it got him on his feet. Jaclyn lifted his arm and draped it across her shoulders. “Come on, Paul. Bedtime.”

  “Someone has to get my flask.” He ducked out from beneath her arm and put his leg over the ledge of the well.

  “No!” Jaclyn said. She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back.

  Paul jerked away and the momentum thrust him forward toward the opening of the well. He tumbled forward...

  Blaise snatched Paul’s tunic and hauled him back away from the well. Paul stumbled and then righted himself. Blaise kept hold of the neck of his tunic and glared into Paul’s eyes. “Are you mad?” He didn’t know whether he was angry because the drunk knight could have injured himself and would not be able to joust or the fact that he was embarrassing his sister.

  “Only as mad as a drunk fool,” he managed to slur.

  Jaclyn ducked beneath her brother’s arm, draping it across her shoulders and holding his hand tightly in place. “Thank you,” she said to Blaise, trying to steady her teetering brother.

  Her brother stumbled and sagged, putting his entire weight onto her. She was so slim she could barely hold him up.

  Cursing, Blaise took the drunk man’s other arm across his shoulders. “Which way?”

  Jaclyn began moving forward toward the keep.

  Paul began to sing some diddy about a naked woman and a priest. The words were highly inappropriate with a lady present. Blaise used his fist to gently, but firmly, punch him in the back.

  “Oww!” Paul cried and tried to turn to see who had assaulted him.

  Jaclyn struggled to keep control of her brother.

  Blaise thought the loud mouth would be better gagged. How could he be such a talented knight?

  “You know,” Paul whispered, leaning close to Blaise. “My sister would make a fine wife.”

  Blaise turned his head away from the stench on his breath and hauled him up the steps to the keep.

  Jaclyn pointed down the hallway.

  Blaise paused. The ruckus echoing down the hallway coming from the Great Hall attested to a crowded room with many guests. Not something that would benefit the lady of the castle if anyone saw her with her drunk brother. “Is there a back way?”

  Jaclyn scowled at him, then looked down the hallway. Understanding dawned in her eyes. She nodded and pointed in the other direction. They had made it halfway down the hall when Paul patted Jaclyn’s head. “I have to lay down for a moment.”

  “We’ll get you to your chambers and you can lay down there.”

  Paul shook his head and turned. He vomited all over Blaise’s tunic.

  Jaclyn gasped.

  Blaise clenched his teeth.

  Paul smeared the goopy liquid across Blaise’s chest, trying to wipe the muck away with the front and back of his hand. “Sorry, old boy.”

  The wretched, foul odor was almost more than Blaise could handle. He had not smelled anything so vile in a long time, purposely avoiding boisterous taverns full of drunkards for this very reason. He jerked Paul forward and allowed Jaclyn to lead them down corridors and up stairwells and through other hallways until they came to a door.

  Jaclyn opened the door and led
them into the dark room. No candles were lit; only the light spilling in from the torches on the wall in the hallway lit the room.

  Blaise caught a glimpse of the edge of the bed as he guided Paul into the room. Paul lurched forward and collapsed onto the bed.

  Jaclyn sighed and stared down at him for a long moment.

  Paul didn’t move.

  She bent and removed his boots, placing them at the side of the bed. Then, she unbuckled his belt and set it beside the boots.

  It was obvious to Blaise this was not the first time she had done it.

  She pulled a cover over him and kissed his forehead before turning to Blaise. She paused for a moment, staring up at him. Then she stepped from the room. After he followed, she closed the door behind them. “I’m terribly sorry about...” She indicated his chest where the stickiness of the vomit had already soaked through to his skin. She scowled and lowered her head. “I shall have a bath drawn for you.”

  “There is no need. I can bathe in the stream --”

  “I insist. This is no way for a guest to --”

  “M’lady,” Blaise said gently. He wanted her to understand that he did not want to be an imposition. “You did not soil my clothing. I don’t blame you. You needn’t go through the trouble.”

  She looked up at him.

  There was such turmoil in her blue eyes that his heart twisted. “It’s no trouble.” She stopped a woman passing. “Bring lord D’Sayre to my room and have a bath drawn.”

  The young woman curtseyed and agreed with an “Aye, m’lady.” She looked at Blaise. “This way, m’lord.”

  Blaise glanced at Jaclyn. “You won’t be attending me?”

  Jaclyn’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “No, lord D’Sayre. I have other guests. But Donna will get everything you need.”

  Blaise straightened. Disappointment surged within him. But he nodded and followed the maid down the hallway.

  Jaclyn watched Blaise stroll down the hallway. She mentally shook her head. Why did the men always think she had all the time in the world to tend them? Were they infants, unable to do so themselves?