Honoring his Lady: A Medieval Romance (Norfolk Knights Book 5)

by Saskia Knight

  Alice was holding the baby, as she paced the forecourt in the early hours, wondering if William would ever come when she heard the sound of horse’s hooves. It could be none other than William. Anyone else would wait until it was fully daylight rather than traverse the causeway in the dark.

  From the shelter of the gatehouse, she looked across the misty, dim landscape. Hidden under the shroud of darkness, she watched his figure grow, his shape darker than the slowly lightening sky.

  The babe hushed in her arms as if also aware that his father was approaching and all would be well from now on.

  “Who’s there,” he asked as he pulled his horse up sharply. Before Alice could reply, he tilted his head. “Alice?”

  She ran from the shelter toward him. Warin continued into the bailey. “William! It is I, and Charles.” She held up the babe, who gave a surprised squawk.

  William slipped off his horse and took them both in his arms. He kissed her hard on the lips as if needing to be sure of her presence. He held her face in his hands and looked down at her. She could see the grime and tiredness streaked on his face and the wonderment in his eyes as he drank his fill of her. It warmed her as nothing else could.

  “Thank the Lord you are safe,” she said, scarcely able to believe he was home again. Safe, with her. For the first time in forever, she began to imagine that they might, just might, be allowed to be happy together.

  “The Lord?” he questioned, smoothing her bottom lip with his thumb. “It had little to do with him, did it, Alice?”

  Alice was saved from answering by a shriek from inside the castle. Lora poked her head through the courtyard window and brought his sisters running.

  William released Alice and greeted everyone. Alice kissed her babe and held him against her shoulder as she watched her husband—her husband—she had to repeat the magical words to herself, return to his family. She didn’t want this moment to end.

  But then he turned to her and gave her a look for her alone, and she knew which way his mind was turning. Any doubts about her role in his release had been firmly pushed to the back of his mind, overtaken by a lust that heated her skin and fluttered and tweaked something deep inside of her. She inhaled a shuddering breath. He held out his hand, and she went to him.

  But it wasn’t until an hour later, after he’d caught up with everyone and eaten and drank, that he and Alice were able to retire to the bedchamber alone. Once the maid had poured buckets of warm water into the bath, Alice dismissed her. She came to him and took off his jacket and kissed him. Then she ran her fingers under his shirt and pressed her cheek against the rough material listening to his heart beat under her good ear. She turned and pressed her deaf ear, and smiled.

  “What makes you smile, wife?”

  “I can hear you through my deaf ear.” She frowned. “Not so much a sound, but a feeling in my head.”

  He stepped out of his clothes, and she tried to hold on to him. He growled. “Release me, Alice, or else the bath will go to waste. I would rid myself of the grime of the gaol before I come to you.”

  She laughed and let him go. He stepped into the steaming tub and slipped under the water, allowing the water to cover him entirely. When he surfaced, she rubbed soap over his shoulders and chest, kissing the clean skin.

  Once he was clean, she rinsed him off with a bucket of cool water. He stepped out, dripping. She offered him a drying cloth, and he shook his head. “There’s only one thing I want now, wife. And that’s to make you as wet as I am.”

  She stepped back but not quickly enough, and he wrapped his large wet arms around her, and she squealed. But not for long because soon his mouth claimed hers, kissing her with an intensity which robbed her mind of thought. And when his hands explored her body, he found her as wet as he wanted to make her.

  Much later, they lay, tangled on the bed, sated from sex, listening to the everyday sounds of the castle. In silence, they watched the shifting patterns of sunlight move across the oak ceiling and the stone walls. She felt bathed in light, from outside and within. She sighed and shifted a little, fully aware that, at some point, she needed to tell him something he had no wish to hear.

  She kissed his chest, and he placed his chin on the top of her head. She listened to his breathing, steady and sure and strong. It was now or never.

  “William,” she said quietly.

  He kissed her head. “Alice,” he said.

  She couldn’t speak, and the silence lengthened.

  He shifted and tried to look at her face. “Why are we stating each other’s names?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  She lifted her head. “Because I have something to tell you.”

  She hated the way his smile dropped from his lips. He didn’t say anything, simply waited for her to continue.

  “I went to see the Sheriff.”

  He sucked in a breath and nodded. “Yes, I know. Warin told me.”

  She jolted upright. “Warin told you?”

  “Of course, he had no choice. But what I don’t know is what you did to convince him to release me. And I’m not sure I want to know.”

  She suddenly realized what he suspected.

  She shook her head. “I made a deal with him, but not, I suspect, the kind you imagine.”

  He blinked and sighed. “If it were not that kind of deal, then what?”

  “I gave him what he coveted—my castle.”

  “Your castle,” he said quietly. “It is a lot. But we have our own home here, so we do not need another. And was that enough for him?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did you have some kind of hold over him?”

  “Aye,” she whispered. “I held secrets.”

  “And so you promised to keep them if, in return, he set me free.”

  She bit her cheek and blinked. “Yes.”

  The fire crackled, and minutes passed before he pulled his arms away from her and sat up in bed, staring straight ahead. “And these secrets…” He stopped talking as if it pained him. He stood up and pulled on his shirt before turning to her. “It was him, wasn’t it? It was he who hurt you so many years ago. The man whose identity you refused to tell me. It was him.”

  It wasn’t a question. William knew.

  Alice bit her lip and nodded anxiously.

  William turned from her, and Alice couldn’t read his thoughts. But she saw him flex his hands. It wasn’t a good sign.

  “But, William. The matter has been dealt with. You mustn’t do anything. You’ve only just…”

  He shot her a look over his shoulder, softening it immediately when his eyes met hers. “Only just been released from prison. Because my wife gave her abuser a gift—the gift of secrecy.” He swallowed hard. “So no one will ever know what he did to you. So he can retain everyone’s good opinion, his wealth, his status, and carry on as if he didn’t hurt the woman I love.”

  She nodded, and a tear trickled down her cheek as she realized exactly how hurt he was by her actions.

  He didn’t attempt to wipe away her tears as he’d always done. “You know it cannot be left like this.”

  “Please,” she sobbed. “William, I cannot bear to lose you again.”

  “You will only lose me if you do not allow me to protect me and mine. I cannot leave it like this.”

  And with that, he left the room, leaving Alice to cry tears which could no longer move him.

  Chapter 17

  It took all of William’s will power to stop himself from getting back on his horse, riding over to Bayard and dealing with him immediately. But he knew he couldn’t rush in. He had to think. So, instead, he took himself out onto the land he loved and breathed deeply of the late spring air, forcing himself to pay attention to the new growth on the trees, and in the land. The fresh green sprouts which had emerged from the cold dark soil of early spring were flourishing, having waited their time until the sun had warmth. Timing was everything. And he had to have patience, at least until he’d put his thoughts in order.
/>
  He’d soon left the shadow of the castle behind him. He knew Alice would be upset, but there was no point in returning. She wouldn’t be able to make him change his mind. He needed to act, and he needed her not to stop him. So he continued toward the river. There were people there, he knew, who would be only too pleased to help him.

  The men who lived and worked on the rivers and marshes were expecting him. He’d made sure of that. He’d also made sure they were fully aware of what had happened, and to whom. He’d known they’d be interested and that they’d help him. They had no love for the man who’d murdered their elder—the island hermit who’d died helping William’s family and their own people escape the tyranny of the de Montmorency clan—the same man who’d robbed Alice of her innocence and nearly, her future.

  No, William had had no qualms about revealing everything that had happened to Alice and himself concerning Bayard of Wrotham. Now wasn’t the time for secrets; it was the time for action.

  Their meeting didn’t last long. It was as he’d imagined. Both he and the river men hated the sheriff with a vengeance and the plan he’d conjured in the course of a few hours had the advantage of being both simple—using the river men’s strengths, capitalizing on their ability to move easily and unnoticed over the marsh Norfolk lands—and effective.

  He waited with Warin and the river men, finessing the details of their plan until the day had begun to wane. As the sun slipped behind the top of the trees, which ringed the group of huts by the river, William rose, stretched, and inhaled the chill watery air of those low lands. It was cold. But he relished this kind of cold—cold that was outside, cold that was of the earth and the water, not a gaol of weeping walls.

  As he left the river men’s encampment, he knew they were also on the move. He barely heard them—only a whisper as they pushed their boats onto the rising river, only a flapping of wings of the marsh birds, disturbed from behind the reeds as they flew off into the darkening sky. That was all to indicate the river men, too, were on their way, spreading out like a spider’s web behind William, making sure that what he started, they would end.

  It wasn’t far to de Courcy Castle. With every cantered step, one thought only filled his mind—he would make sure that the man who’d hurt his woman never had the chance to do so again.

  William and Warin reined in their mounts outside the gatehouse, which was locked. He’d been told it would be locked—it made the new owner feel secure—but he also knew that the men and women within were expecting them. They knew what to do. He didn’t turn around to see if the men were in position. A high-pitched bird call confirmed it.

  He dismounted, and by the time he’d reached the gatehouse, it swung open quietly admitting them both. The person who had opened it said nothing and immediately retreated into the shadows. William caught sight of two men guarding the gatehouse and heard muffled cries coming from beneath the guardhouse, where the gaol pit was. They’d be released when this was over. He’d given orders for no one else to be harmed.

  He gave his horse to his squire and told him to stay and be ready. William took one last look around and walked across the bailey yard to the stairs, which led up to the Great Hall. He had no intention of entering from the rear door, as he’d been counseled by the river men. He’d be doing this the right way, entering through the main door, and meeting his enemy head-on.

  He ran up the stairs, opened the door, and stepped inside. It had always been a dark Hall, even when Alice and her family had lived there, but now the air seemed denser somehow, except the fire wasn’t smoking. It took him two scans of the Hall, clothed in the strange gloom, to see the man he sought.

  He sat alone. William hadn’t expected that.

  “About time!” Bayard called out. “You should have come immediately! Where the hell is everyone, anyway?”

  William walked up to him, and slowly Bayard turned to him. It was all William could do not to take the man by the scruff of the neck and throw him to the ground. But that wasn’t the way. He knew that now. Alice had shown him that. The man jumped up when he saw who it was who approached him. Fear registered in his face as he looked around, but there was no one there to help him, as William had arranged.

  “Sir William! I did not expect company this night!” William could hear an edge of panic to his voice.

  “And I, also, had not expected to spend my first night in Norfolk away from Wanham.”

  Bayard called out for a servant, but no one came. “I’d offer you a drink, but it looks like the servants are busy.”

  “Or, mayhap, they’re not here.”

  Bayard stumbled away, spilling the remains of his drink on the rushes. He took another step toward the chest where his cloak had been tossed. William knew that he was hoping to reach his sword.

  “So what brings you here, Sir William, when you could be at home with your fair wife.”

  A surge of anger burst through William at the mention of Alice. “Do not speak of her,” he roared.

  Bayard shook his head and licked his lips. “Of course. It seems you are angered that I now own the castle.”

  “Believe me, it is not that which angers me.”

  “Then I suggest you calm yourself, and tell me the reason you’re here.”

  “The reason? You!”

  “Me?” He swallowed again as if his mouth had suddenly drained of moisture. “What could you possibly want with me?” His voice was now hoarse with fear. He grappled behind him for a sword or dagger, which William knew was no longer there.

  “Want? I’d like to do many things as it happens.”

  “You wouldn’t dare! My men are close by, as are the servants.”

  “I think you’ll find there are none here.”

  “Of course they are here. I haven’t given them—” He stopped abruptly and called out, louder than before, panic giving his voice strength. The call turned into a shout, which turned into a screech as Bayard realized the truth of William’s words. The sound made the hairs on the back of William’s neck rise.

  He turned to William. “What have you done to them?”

  “I?” William shrugged. “I have done nothing. I believe they decided they’d rather be outside on this fine evening, rather than here, with you.”

  “They are my servants!” he thundered. “I did not give them leave!”

  “No, but I did.” William gestured for Bayard to take a seat. “Sit, I would speak to you.”

  Bayard turned to the chest and, no longer caring for subterfuge, swept the cloak from the top to discover his weapons were no longer there. He turned back to William, gripping the chest, and cowering, his eyes dark with anger and fear. “Where are my people!” Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as he ranted.

  “They were never your people. They owe allegiance to Lady Alice’s family, and, as her husband, to me. They are of the land, as am I. You are an interloper here. You are not welcome.”

  “This place has been given to me. Lady Alice gave it to me.”

  “To pay you off.”

  “And I freed you, did I not? I kept my side of the bargain.”

  “Ah, but I have a new bargain for us to make.”

  “And why should I? I have everything I need here.”

  William scoffed. “You are not welcome here.”

  “If the de Courcy servants don’t wish to stay, I can soon replace them.”

  “No, you misunderstand me. I do not welcome you.”

  “You do not own this castle.”

  “That is not in dispute. I don’t wish to own it. I have enough. What I will not have is the man who made Alice’s life hell, who raped her, beat her and abused her most vilely, live so close to us— to her.”

  Bayard’s creased face whitened under the trim gray beard. “Whatever I did—and you cannot prove anything—or did not do, was done because she wanted it!”

  This time William couldn’t stop himself. All thought and control flew from his mind as rage consumed him, and he launched his fist into t
he man’s neat beard sending him flying to the floor. A dog jumped up yelping in surprise from before the fire, and a flagon of wine tipped over, dripping onto Bayard’s head.

  “Don’t,” said William, breathing deeply, willing the control he’d been holding onto all afternoon, control he’d been counseled to keep, to surface once more. It took half a dozen breaths and some swearing before he had managed to calm himself. “Don’t you ever say such a thing again.”

  “Why not if it’s…”

  Before Bayard could finish what he was going to say, he must have seen the fury in William’s eyes. So, instead, Bayard righted himself and rubbed his chin. William stepped away and turned from the sight of the man whom he wanted to kill. But whose death by his hands would ruin not only his future but the future of the woman he loved.

  Suddenly William was knocked over as Bayard lunged at him, obviously not as stunned by William’s blow as he’d wanted to appear. His hands were around William’s neck in a desperate grip, and William couldn’t breathe.

  But Bayard was no match for William, and William easily prised his fingers away before throwing him across the Hall, slamming him against the unforgiving stone wall.

  Bayard lay panting and dazed while William rubbed his neck and swallowed with difficulty and looked at Bayard. There was no way he’d be taking his eyes off him again.

  “You will not win with a one-on-one fight against me,” said William in a measured tone, willing himself to retain control. “So do not try.”

  The man lay panting on the ground. He looked up from all fours like the animal he was, and scowled.

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Leave England. Leave these shores where you are not wanted and disappear into far lands.”

  “What if I do not wish it.” He staggered to his feet and tried to show bravado, but the effect was pathetic. “I have friends, you know.”

  “Fairweather friends. They’ll not stand by you now.” William approached him. Bayard stepped back, fear now showing clearly in his eyes. “Let me put it this way. If you stay here another hour, I’ll kill you myself.”