Seducing His Lady: Novella (Norfolk Knights Book 2)

by Saskia Knight

  “’Tis well I’m not. I have work to do.” He rose gingerly, checked for bleeding, there was none, and followed her to the bench.

  “Work?” she answered with a wry expression he chose to ignore. “Since the Pope’s Interdict there has been little work for priests.”

  “Ah, my lady”—he shrugged—“there are other ways of following God’s work besides preaching.”

  She looked at him sharply. “That is what the Abbess tells me, also.” Then she pressed her lips together, as if she felt she’d revealed too much and continued her work.

  He stood behind her shoulder. She didn’t turn around but he could tell she was aware of his presence. Her hands ceased moving. “And what is your way of doing God’s work?” He indicated the open books before her. “Healing people?”

  “’Tis what the Abbess believes. She does not believe I should take the vows. Not yet, anyway.”

  “But you do not agree?”

  “As well as being a wise woman the Abbess is also my Aunt—my father’s sister—and I wish to be obedient.”

  He gave a sweeping glance at the row of medicine bottles, the open book before her, and her hands that worked on a pestle and mortar, grinding seeds into powder. She was a clever woman. He returned his gaze to her profile. The white veil of the novitiate covered all but a few strands of blonde hair and revealed a fine-boned face with red lips of a perfect curve to kiss. Clever and beautiful, and with a mind of her own. The Abbess was indeed wise.

  He was so close to her that all he’d have to do would be to stretch out his hand to lightly touch her chin and turn her around to face him. And then… just dip his head to hers to taste those lips.

  She turned suddenly and looked at him. Her flush deepened and her gaze fell to his lips. He groaned and felt his body react. He was in dangerous territory. He turned back to the desk. “And here, what is this list of?” He cared not a fig about the list but for her sake he needed to change the direction their minds were taking.

  She swallowed and patted her pen as if it were as beloved and familiar as the pestle. “I record our supply of medicines.”

  He knew he should move away but, instead, he stepped closer and looked over her shoulder. He was rewarded with her sharp intake of breath. He could smell her better now that he was close, a fragrance of lavender—the one that had penetrated his dreams—coming from her skin, and the pungent powder in the pestle. He pointed to one entry. “Woad? You also dye wool?”

  He was rewarded with a huff of amusement and a lessening of tension. “Woad is excellent for healing. I’ve treated reddened, inflamed wounds that have healed when it has been applied.”

  He pointed to one of the names listed. “’Tis a Persian name. You learn your skill from unusual sources, my lady. From your father’s books, you say?”

  “Aye. He was a great collector of treasures. I brought this with me from my home.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she caressed the cover of the book. And for one long moment he imagined her hand caressing him with the same tenderness. “And I have copied it to help others learn. There is a young woman I’m teaching, Ada…” She broke off suddenly and shrugged. “You do not wish to know all of this.”

  He reached across to the book and purposely brushed his arm against hers. He was rewarded with a soft gasp. “I do. Tell me, how do you come by woad?”

  She shifted her gaze away from him. “Woad is grown in England.”

  “But not enough to supply the demand from the wool dyers. Even I, a simple… priest, knows that much.”

  She bit her lip and he frowned. If she could see what he was hiding, then the same was true for him. He could see she was concealing some secret of her own. She shrugged but it wasn’t fluid, it was the awkward movement of someone who made the gesture on purpose to assume a nonchalance that was not felt. “We are close to the port here, there are always merchants happy to sell such things.”

  “Not if the King’s duty is applied. Then, it would be too expensive. Wouldn’t it?” It wasn’t a firm touch, nor a commanding one, but his finger on her cheek made her turn to him and he was rewarded with her sweet breath upon his cheek and the unmistakable flare of lust in her eyes. “I am not the only one with secrets, it would seem.”

  She stepped away and nearly unbalanced. “I have to leave. There are other patients beside yourself.” She gathered her things and brought them hard against her chest. “You should rest and I will return later.”

  She swept out the room on a breeze of lavender and herbs and medicines, like a healing balm against his skin. He went to the window and watched her walk hurriedly across the medicinal garden. Sunlight reflected from her white veil and gown, like a beacon of light in his darkness.

  He stepped back to the bed, eased himself down and lay staring at the shifting shadows of leaves on the wall. If she was the light, he was the dark—condemned to a life in the shadows where only death and retribution had any meaning. And when light and shadow came together, he felt the shadows were too heavy and would extinguish the light. And he could not do that to her.

  Chapter 4

  Three days later…

  Melisende could barely see where the path ended and the woods began as she made her way back to the priory from a meeting with some of the villagers. There was no moon and she was thankful for the company of Tom, her childhood friend, who carried her heavy basket. He chatted softly about his new wife and baby, and she was pleased for him, pleased for the happiness she could hear in every syllable he spoke. Yet she knew, deep down, such a family life would not make her happy.

  Tom needed only an occasional word of agreement on her part to continue and she soon found her mind had wandered back to the priory—to the mysterious priest who had recovered well these past few days, and to the Abbess. She felt a twinge of guilt about slipping away from the priory without telling the Abbess. It was easy to get away without discovery since they had fewer servants in these uncertain times. But disobedience was still a sin, although she felt it was justified in this case. Because from these meetings, she was able to source medicines to help the sick, which otherwise the priory would never be able to afford. Then her mind slid back to the Priest.

  If disobedience was a sin, what would the Abbess call her wanton thoughts of the Priest? She’d never felt like this about any man before. His presence totally consumed her, making her forget everything that was going on around her, except him, the curve of his shoulder, the sudden warmth in his eyes as he caught her gaze. Maybe the Abbess was right in not giving her permission to become a nun. But no other life would give her what she craved and what she found here, at Blakesthorpe—a home where she could heal, learn and teach, could live a life where her mind could be free.

  “Good evening, Lady Melisende!” The voice came from beneath the shadowy trees that edged the woodland path.

  Tom jumped in front of her, dagger drawn, ready to fight. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

  Even before there was a response, Melisende placed her hand on Tom’s arm. “Tom! ’Tis someone I know.”

  Galien emerged from the shadows and walked up to Tom, his form menacing and tall, despite Tom’s stocky build. “I came to escort Lady Melisende back to the Abbey after I discovered her missing. I can see I had no need.”

  Tom looked from Melisende back to Galien. “Mel?”

  She tugged Tom’s fist, still tight around the dagger.

  “All’s well. He is a priest from the priory, a friend of the Abbess’s.”

  Slowly Tom relaxed and stood to one side. “Very well sir, if Mel—I mean Lady Melisende—vouches for you, then you must be who you say you are.” He turned to Melisende and gave her the basket. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you back to the priory?”

  She shook her head. “Nay. Father Galien will escort me there.” She smiled a smile that tried to reassure but it was hard when her heart thumped so rapidly, as if to warn her of danger.

  “Then I’ll bid you goodnight.” He bowed and smiled and n
odded curtly to Galien, before returning back down the path, shooting suspicious glances over his shoulder as he went.

  Galien laughed softly. “You have quite a champion, there.”

  “Tom is an old friend. I’ve known him since I could barely walk. He and his family are like family to me. They look out for me.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it.” He extended his arm and, after only a brief hesitation, she slipped her hand through his, closing her eyes briefly as he brought it to the warmth of his body. “Because someone who slips out of the priory at night without telling a soul, needs friends.”

  She shot him a sharp glance. “How did you know?”

  “’Tis my profession to know what’s going on.”

  “As a priest, yes, of course.” She made it clear in her tone as to her doubts but he didn’t respond. “But I thought a priest would be at prayer at this hour.”

  There was no hint of a smile on his lips but she detected a glimmer of humour in his eyes. “And I thought a novitiate would also be in the chapel at prayer.”

  She tried to contain a smile, in vain. “I, am not in hiding, sir. My lady Abbess believes you are safer in the confines of the monks’ dorter.”

  “Safer?” His grin was wicked. “From whom? From marauding nuns mayhap?”

  “Sir! The nuns are neither marauding nor likely to challenge your safety. I assumed you had other safety concerns.”

  “I have, my Lady Melisende.”

  “Well, it does not seem so, now. You have time to linger in the shadows and play servant, escorting me home.”

  He laughed. “My safety is secondary only to that of my nurse. I am deeply indebted to you for your care. You see how much recovered I am?” He held out his fist and flexed it. “You see? Much better.”

  Without thinking she reached out and brushed her fingers over his knuckles. “The swelling is down. ’Tis healing well. And your other wounds?”

  “They are healing well also. I had the best nurse.”

  She was glad the dark night hid her blush. “Then you will be leaving soon?”

  “Aye. As soon as Lady Anne—the Abbess—can find me safe passage. Come, let me carry the basket.”

  She gripped the basket tightly and continued walking. “’Tis not heavy, I can manage. Besides we are nearly there.”

  “As you wish.”

  They walked in silence up to the priory gate, which the gatekeeper had opened for them, and continued into the garden. She stopped where the path diverted off to her quarters. “Thank you, sir.”

  He smiled and nodded. “’Twas my pleasure.”

  “To risk your life in the forest at night?”

  He shook his head, his eyes narrowed, never leaving hers. “Nay. I like to solve mysteries and you are a mystery to me.”

  She shook her head about to deny it when he stepped towards her and she backed away, and caught her unbound hair in a rose briar. “Oh, I…” she tried to pull her head away but it was caught and both her hands tightly gripped the basket.

  “Stay still,” he said coming towards her. She had no choice. She doubted her body would move even if she commanded it to—and she didn’t. His hands reached up and unravelled her hair from around the thorns. He dropped it back into place with a quite unnecessary stroke. Then he looked at her and her breath hitched. He was so close, and the night was so dark, it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. “Melisende. A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

  Her mouth dried. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think of a word to say. She could only feel—the breath of his words on her lips and see—the fringe of dark eyelashes shadowing his dark eyes, the gleam of the torchlight on his cheek which illuminated the hard planes of his cheek and jaw, so strong, even to the hardest fist.

  Then he did something she’d dreamt he’d do, night and day. He leaned towards her and pressed his lips to hers. And for one long heartbeat, one breath, the world around them faded away, and stopped. There was only their connection, of his lips upon hers.

  Then he pulled away. His hand, that was still pressed against her hair, stroked her cheek briefly before he stepped away.

  “Go now, Lady Melisende, before I forget myself.”

  For one long moment Melisende wanted to stay, to feel the pressure of his lips against hers once more, to feel his hands that had stroked her hair, stroke her skin, her neck, to breathe his breath into her mouth. She wanted to taste him once more. She pressed her fingers to her lips, wondering if it was all a dream. Then she stumbled away, pressing the back of her hand to her lips as reality hit her like a powerful blow. “Sir! These are not the actions of a priest!”

  “Go,” he repeated, ignoring her rebuke. “Before I discover your secrets.”

  Just the thought of him discovering the secrets of her body, of pleasuring her, of doing the things her unruly mind imagined late at night when she was alone, made her feel giddy. “What secrets could I, a humble novitiate, possibly have?”

  He laughed, a low seductive laugh that sent a thrill through her body. He plucked a rose and slid his hands along the stem, as if inspecting it for thorns. “Oh, you have many, some of which a few people already know, to do with your mission this night, and some of which no man knows. Not yet. But I would know.” His eyes grew darker as he stepped away from her. “And you’re right, of course.”

  She stopped walking and turned to face him again. “About what?”

  He brought the rose to his face, as if to smell it but looked up suddenly and caught her gaze. “My actions weren’t those of a priest. For the very good reason that I am not one.” He smiled a smile that shocked her with how it made her feel. He walked up to her and tucked the thornless rose behind her ear. “I am no priest, with no morals of a priest, with no restraints of a priest.” He stepped back and his lips twitched into a grin that had only reinforced his words. “Just as you are no nun.” He laughed softly, and turned and walked away.

  Chapter 5

  The following day, Galien leaned over the thick wall of the tower and looked out across the priory lands, the heart of which was enclosed within flint walls, to its lands of crops, the river, the mill and cluster of cottages. And yet further to where the land flattened out and dissolved into the sea. He was looking out to France, to his country and all he could see was Melisende. From the first moment she’d touched him, she’d left her mark not on him, but inside him. He rubbed his eyes wearily with the heel of his hand. It could not be. Because his future lay over the horizon in a world far from hers.

  “’Tis a fine view from here, is it not?”

  He turned around to find the Abbess standing behind him. He hadn’t heard her approach and he wondered how long she’d been standing there.

  “Aye. But the horizon isn’t clear today. ’Tis hazy.”

  She looked at him astutely. “Your vision is less clear since you’ve been here, I think.”

  He smiled. “My father always said you were wise—far too wise to marry him.” He paused. “Of course, he never said that to my mother. But when he told me tales of his youth, you would often feature. I think he was in love with you.”

  It was the Abbess’s turn to gaze out at the horizon, as if searching back in time to people and places long gone. “And I, him. But we had different lives to lead. My duty had always been here, at Blakesmere. I had the calling early. ’Tis not for everyone.”

  “Lady Melisende told me that you do not think it to be her calling.”

  The Abbess raised her brows in surprise. “I thought I caught a sense of intimacy between you. It seems my niece trusts you with her concerns.”

  “I was interested to know about them.”

  “She’s a remarkably talented young woman. She doesn’t know it though. She’s too tainted by her upbringing. Her father was too harsh on her. This was the only place she felt love, that she felt she belonged.”

  “And you think she is not suited to being a nun?”

  She glanced at him amused. “I didn’t say that.
She can be whatever she desires. She simply isn’t ready yet,” the Abbess continued. She turned to him. “And how are your injuries?”

  “Much improved, thanks to her care and remedies. I must leave as soon as there is a boat.”

  “You spoke of your father who is no longer here.”

  “And the man who was responsible for his death is now dead.”

  “Then I hope you will move on, forget your thirst for revenge and find peace in your heart. Your hatred is continuing the war that should have ended years ago. I hope, for the sake of your father, that you will seek a more peaceful path on your return.”

  Something gripped his heart then and he felt the old grief and hatred still there, bound together too tight to disappear. “I do what I must.”

  She sighed. “And no doubt will continue to do, whatever I say.” She paused for a few long moments as she gazed at the horizon. When she looked at him there was sad resignation in her eyes. “I’ve been unable to find you safe passage to France yet. But a boat is due in next week helmed by a captain I’ve used before. Go now and rest. Make the most of the small time left to you to gain strength. You’ll no doubt be needing it on your return.”

  He bowed, turned away and paused. “I am forever in your debt, my lady.”

  He turned as if to go back to the garden, but couldn’t face feeling enclosed. Instead he walked around to the rear of the priory just in time to see Melisende disappear through a door in the wall, leaving the safety of the priory behind. Slipping away again. He doubted even Lady Anne would have the ability to hold such a one as Melisende captive for long. His smile gave way to concern. Anyone could be abroad in such troubled times. And where was she going? More secrets. Secrets, this time, he was going to uncover.