A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight's Tale Book 3)

by Diane Darcy

  Silly, Cara.

  The meat sizzled over the fire, making her stomach rumble.

  Now that sense prevailed, and heads were calm, it might be a good time to talk to him about their plans.

  She wasn’t sure where he’d been taking her yesterday, but she now trusted him a whole heck of a lot more, and thought maybe they could have an actual conversation.

  “What’s the plan for today?” she asked.

  He shot her a slightly suspicious look, but she held his gaze and he finally answered. “We will be home before nightfall.”

  That sounded encouraging. All of this traipsing about in the woods was definitely not her thing, but if she had to do it, she was glad she’d ended up with him. “Are we rushing, or stopping to smell the roses along the way?”

  “Roses?”

  “You know, are we going slow, enjoying the journey?”

  “Ah, very clever. We shall go at an even pace,” he said, then clarified, “But we shall enjoy any beauty we see along the way.”

  She caught herself admiring his tanned, muscled chest, partially revealed by his gaping tunic, saw him watching her doing it, and smiled.

  “Anyway,” she said brightly, lowering her gaze, “I ... I’m not sure I said it, but, thank you for what you did yesterday. For saving me.”

  Even as she felt gratitude swell once again, she had the conflicting thought that she’d never have been there in the first place, if he hadn’t taken her from Stirling Castle.

  Perhaps she really did have Stockholm Syndrome.

  “’Tis my pleasure to care for you, my lady.”

  Aww. And then he had to go and say something gallant like that. She was a mess.

  Still, it sounded as if they’d be at his house today, and though any and all thoughts of skedaddling had fled, especially since she didn’t enjoy the thought of separating at the moment, she’d figure it out when they arrived.

  Another day with his arms wrapped around her might be exactly the therapy she needed, and she wasn’t going to beat herself up about it.

  She shot him another glance, acknowledged once again she really did find him attractive, and clasped her hands together in front of her.

  When he stood, she was quick to do the same, that familiar panic rising.

  His smile seemed genuine enough when he held out his hand, and she hurried forward to take it.

  “Will you help me into my chain?”

  She gave a nod, and between the two of them, they lifted it over his head, settled it in place, and refastened his arm leathers and belt.

  She had the sneaking suspicion he didn’t actually need her help, but was unaccountably happy to do it.

  So, her life, at the moment, would consist of one minute at a time, and she’d see what came.

  Once they were back on his mount, traveling in the right direction, he saw a new side to his lady.

  And yes, he acknowledged, he was thinking of her as his.

  She sat forward today, one knee up, the other leg dangling near his own, hazel eyes bright and seeking.

  She still seemed to revel in his arms about her, immediately sinking against him once when a deer jumped in their path, before displaying a charming excitement over seeing the creature.

  Another time, they’d startled a family of quail, and she’d cooed at the babies, so he’d not had the heart to lift an arrow against their parents.

  It seemed that somehow in the space of a day, she’d managed to tame him.

  She had a curious way of talking, that by turns charmed, and alarmed him. From the way she spoke, he could tell she’d been much at court, and they did things far differently than he’d envisioned.

  Though he had a mother and two sisters to care for, apparently, he’d neglected the opportunity to understand women.

  In some ways she made him feel a dullard.

  When she spoke of the time spent in New York, he’d not known there was such a place.

  He’d been to York, a crowded filthy place, but had not known they’d built a new one. Rather than display his lack of knowledge, he’d simply listened and refrained from comment.

  “Have you been to California before?” she started the conversation once more.

  He thought for a moment, and decided she would not think him lacking if he admitted he had not. “Nay, where is it exactly?”

  “On the West Coast. I grew up near the beach, not too far from Disneyland, and of course, Hollywood was always a big presence. Me and my friends always thought we’d end up on the big screen. Unlike you, I eventually set my sights on working behind the scenes. I knew I wasn’t a good enough actress, but I love to do makeup.”

  He blinked, at a loss, before finally saying, “I’m sure you would have excelled in either endeavor.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Oh, you’re a charmer, aren’t you?”

  Having never been called such a thing in his life, he did not know how to answer. He did not wish to deny it, but was afraid she would find out quickly enough the untruth of such a statement.

  Again, he decided silence was his best option.

  When she leaned against him, her head on his chest, he was in no hurry to get where they were going.

  If he were on his own, he’d continue riding, and eat a piece of jerky on his journey.

  With her there, he’d stopped for a meal of oats and jerky, and he’d even gone so far as to scavenge some berries for her pleasure.

  He did not know himself, anymore. And worse, did not seem to mind the change.

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to do now that I’ve lost my job.”

  Had she angered the king or the queen? Lost a position as lady-in-waiting? “Was that why you ran onto the field? Were you in despair?”

  Perhaps she did not even know Sir Rupert. He found the idea pleased him.

  “I’ll admit I was upset. The director was yelling, someone I considered a friend got me fired, and the guard was scaring me,” she shook her head. “With everything happening, I just had to get away, you know?”

  She sank back, seeking comfort? His hand tightened on her waist.

  “Anyway, I still don’t remember how I ran in front of your horse. One minute I was running out into the field, you know, the one with the shrine? And the next I thought I was going to die.”

  It was amazing how easily he retrieved information from her once he stopped asking. Even as he thought it, he blurted out, “How do you know Sir Rupert Dinsdale?”

  She shrugged. “I haven’t met him personally. I’m more in charge of the ladies, most especially Princess Pat.” She glanced back, “Uh ... I mean ... Patrice Levy.”

  So, she had served as lady-in-waiting. The gown and jewelry made sense. And yet, the king handed her over to him. He wondered what she’d done to fall from favor.

  “Of course, I do know his storyline, or rather, I thought I did.” She twisted to look at him once more. “I thought he was the hero of the piece?”

  She was asking him. Asking for his version of events, and he felt almost humbled that she was willing to listen. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

  “If I am to tell you the truth of it, I will have to start back when my father and Sir Rupert’s father, Lord Paul Dinsdale, served together as young men during the expedition to Poitou. They went on behalf of a young King Henry, intent on helping him reclaim his lands and titles.”

  His mouth twisted. “Soldiers and friends, they defended Henry’s rights to the Angevin Empire. They both fought well, and though unsuccessful, they were awarded prestigious marriages.”

  His hands circled her waist, enjoying the supple feel of her for a moment until he held onto the pommel. She placed her small hand upon his wrist, pulling a tenderness from him as easily as her next breath.

  “My father was to marry Lady Helena of Warwickshire, aligning himself with her family. But, Lord Dinsdale was fair and pleasing to look upon, and caught Lady Helena’s heart. They tried an elopement, but were caught by my father.
”

  “Your father stopped an elopement? How?”

  “My lady mother was reminded of her duty.”

  She shook her head, scoffed. “Wow. That sounds positively medieval. Did your parents ever fall in love?”

  “They were pleased to fulfill their roles.”

  “Huh. So, your father and Lord Dinsdale have been enemies ever since?”

  “I believe my father was willing to forgive, but they failed to keep the same company, and saw ever less of each other.”

  “That’s sad,” Cara murmured, “but it happens like that sometimes. Facebook is nice, but not everyone is on it.”

  “Facebook?”

  “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. So, what happened next?”

  “Lord Dinsdale’s feelings festered and he joined forces with several others who wished to see my father discredited, and his lands dispersed.”

  “Oh, no! Seriously? I didn’t think this was how the story went. I am going to have to start reading scripts all the way through before filming. If I’m not blackballed.”

  He tried to make sense of her words, couldn’t, but was still glad her misperceptions were corrected.

  “The villains were successful, mostly because my father was unaware of the plot against him. He was accused of treachery, false evidence brought before the king, and when he tried to defend his name before God, I believe he was poisoned and unable to defend himself in combat. My lady mother curses the day she met Dinsdale and wishes him dead.”

  “Whoa. So, this really happened in the past?”

  “Aye.”

  “That is so awful. I can’t believe anyone would do that.”

  “Believe it,” his tone was clipped as he remembered all that had been taken from them.

  “What a sad story. I would have sworn I heard from Patrice that Rupert Dinsdale was the hero, and you were the villain.”

  “I’ve no doubt you have heard such. ’Tis what most believe, even now.”

  “Huh. Well, fired or not, I’ll be watching the film, as now I’ll be wondering how it all ends.” She twisted to look at him, smiling. “And can I just say that I love how much you get into your role? The way you just described everything to me from the Wolfsbane point-of-view was amazing.”

  Impatience filled him as he tried to decipher her meaning yet again.

  He fell silent, but she filled the time, commenting on the scenery, and the goings-on in Hollywood, and he even laughed at one point as she described two ladies vying for the affection of a gentleman, who preferred to remain in a closet.

  Such silliness.

  But it did keep him from brooding, his foremost occupation in the years since his father’s death.

  His spirits lifted, and things seemed brighter with her in his arms.

  Before the sun had set, they finally arrived at Wolfsbane Manor.

  Cara looked around with interest, and he was suddenly unhappy he could not offer her more.

  “This is your home?”

  He heard no censure in her tone, but answered her shortly regardless. “Aye, that is the way of it.”

  “It’s nice. Big!”

  He looked at his home with a fresh eye, trying to see it as she would. A bridge led to the gatehouse and guardrooms, and the main house held but six bedchambers and one solar. The great hall was more than half the size they were used to.

  The chapel was new, and he supposed a lady would appreciate such things.

  His garrison consisted of five men: two knights, a watchman, and two men-at-arms. He’d not the charge of even one squire.

  He wasn’t much impressed.

  And where she came from king’s court and castle? He supposed she lied to spare his feelings. No matter. It was her new home now and she’d adjust as they all had.

  In the last two days he’d made his decision, and would be posting the banns forthwith. He’d saved her life twice over, and she may not have meant to, but she’d played her part denying him vengeance, and could bear the consequences.

  And when he’d successfully won back his honor, name, and holdings, she could share in those as well.

  But for now, like the rest of them, his mother and sisters included, his new bride would soon get used to her new circumstances.

  Cara was entranced by the house.

  Surrounded by trees, made of soft red brick, it looked like a romantic miniature castle and even had a moat! The building was tall, with pitched roofs, three turrets, a drawbridge, and a battlement tower.

  She counted five chimney’s, two dormer windows, and a bell tower. The windows in front were arched, and there was a lake in the distance and wildflowers grew in profusion.

  It was simply beautiful.

  Guards watched as they crossed the cobblestone bridge and passed underneath the arched entry and into a large square courtyard. A young man came running forward and Wallace threw the boy the reins.

  “Pray, forgive me, my lord, I did not see you coming.” The kid, thin, wiry, with long, brown hair sticking to his forehead, looked stricken.

  “Do not fash thyself.”

  He studied Wallace as if to decide for himself whether his employer was angry or not, and finally nodded his head. “Yes, my lord.”

  Cara looked on in wide-eyed silence. Besides being an actor, was Wallace really a lord? Like, English Aristocracy or something? She didn’t want to gawk or look like an American rube, so, a conversation for another time.

  She could see no introduction was forthcoming, so she finally said, “Hi, I’m Cara, what’s your name?”

  Once again, the boy’s gaze went to Wallace and at his nod, he said, “’Tis Favian, my lady.”

  She arched an eyebrow at the title, but when in England, right? Wallace called her that too. “It’s nice to meet you, Favian.”

  “Thank you, my lady,”

  Wallace did that amazing thing again, where he dismounted with her in his arms and, as per usual, her heart fluttered at his strength.

  She grinned at him. She would swear on a stack of bibles there wasn’t a female on the planet who wouldn’t react the same way.

  He studied her face, a question in his as he helped her stand for a moment, and she was glad he did as her legs had half fallen asleep from the ride.

  Wide-eyed, she glanced around at the buildings laid out around the square courtyard, and the people working at different tasks, even as they seemed to watch them.

  A good-looking man, muscular, dressed in a nice tunic, and probably in his fifties strode toward them. “About time you showed up. Leaving me to hold down the fort while you go off to find beautiful females.”

  Wallace grinned, and it caught her eye, because she hadn’t known he had dimples, and the sight of them was unexpected. A rugged masculine face, short beard, and dimples? So attractive, and so not fair!

  “Lady Cara, this is my steward, Sir Gladwin,” Wallace said warmly. “He fought beside my father and has been with our family since before I was born. He was steward at Wolfsbane Castle.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “And you, my lady,” Sir Gladwin bowed. His thinning gray hair was combed neatly, and he was missing a front tooth, though from the way he smiled, it didn’t seem to bother him.

  “How did you fare?” Sir Gladwin asked, still smiling, but he couldn’t hide his concern.

  Wallace’s lips tightened and he clapped the other man on the shoulder. “We’ll talk later.”

  Sir Gladwin nodded. “Later, then. Thy mother awaits.”

  Wallace took Cara’s hand before he was hailed once more. “My lord?”

  A priest, dressed in brown robes, a cross at his chest, came out of what looked to be a chapel on the property. He started in their direction.

  “Father Hazleton. Come, there is someone I would have you meet.”

  The priest, probably in his mid-forties or so, with a stern face, and just a bit of gray in his dark hair, limped toward them. “Welcome home, Lord Wolfsbane.”

  “I t
rust you are well?”

  “Aye, my lord. Getting better every day.”

  “Glad to hear it. This is Lady Cara Jones,” Wallace placed a hand on her shoulder.

  Cara smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.” She wasn’t sure what the etiquette was, so she didn’t offer her hand.

  The priest looked her over, his gaze lingering on her necklace. “You have been baptized? Confirmed?”

  “Uh …” Nosy much? “Yes. My father saw to that.”

  He nodded. “I will expect to see you both for morning mass.”

  “We will be there,” Wallace said.

  He nodded, and without another word, the priest walked back toward the chapel.

  She glanced at Wallace, eyebrows raised.

  “Come,” was all he said, and walked her to what she assumed from the large double doors, was the entrance. One door opened before they reached it.

  “Wallace!” Exclaimed a tall, middle-aged blonde. Her gaze flitted between the two of them. “We did not know when to expect you.”

  The lady wore a pale green medieval gown, and Cara glanced around to see Favian leading the horse out of the courtyard, talking to Sir Gladwin, and realized their clothes could be period pieces as well.

  Was this a tourist attraction?

  “We took our time to smell the roses, as it were,” Wallace said, glancing down at Cara. He didn’t smile, but his mention of their earlier conversation warmed her heart.

  “Mother, this is Lady Cara Jones. And Cara, this is my mother, Lady Helena of Wolfsbane.”

  Lady Helena’s gaze dropped to Cara’s necklace, before she nodded once.

  Cara smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

  “And you, as well, my dear,” Lady Helena said, shooting a questioning glance at her son.

  “We’ll put her in Amelia’s room for now,” Wallace said.

  “For now?” His mother questioned.

  “Yes, for now,” he said firmly.

  “If you’ll follow me,” Lady Helena led the way inside.

  Cara was reluctant to follow, and, in fact, clung to Wallace’s hand, her chest tightening at the thought of separation.

  He gave her a slight smile, and indicated his mother. “I am sure you wish to freshen up, get something to eat, and rest.”