Emerald Knight

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “I thought you left me for good,” Wolfe stated blandly from the bed. He lifted his hands to rest leisurely under his head, as if she had been gone only a minute. When, in fact, she had been gone for nigh three hours. Yawning as if he had no care in the world, he gave Ginevra a shiftless smile.

  “I have to stay here with you,” Ginevra answered with a pout. A lecherous smile came to Wolfe’s mouth and his eyes roamed suggestively to her breasts. Sighing, she shook her head at him as if he were a naughty child. “I see your mood has improved, m’lord.”

  “It would improve more if you came here to assist me.” His grin widened.

  “Not a chance.” Looking meaningfully at the bed, she added, “I might be forced to share this tent with you, but I won’t share that bed.”

  “Who is forcing you?” he quipped lazily. “Go back to your own tent.”

  “I can’t.” Slowly, Ginevra wandered about. Stopping to look at his sword, she touched the end of the blade. Instantly, the point pierced the skin and caused a bead of blood to form on her finger. Jerking her hand back with a sound of surprise, she stuck the injured digit in her mouth.

  “Careful,” Wolfe chuckled, “that’s sharp.”

  Ignoring his smirk, she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. Examining her finger before lowering her hand to the side, she said, “They’re taking down the tents and William told the workers they could dismantle mine. He said that my things would be brought over here. Since I had no say in the matter, I suppose I’m stuck being your nursemaid. Though don’t expect a loving wife, for I don’t l--”

  At Wolfe’s cold look, her words died off. Any claim she might have uttered remained unsaid.

  “Careful,” he warned with a menacing glint to his narrowed eyes. Inside his chest felt like a vice was squeezing his heart. Her emerald eyes were lifeless as they studied him in cold indifference.

  “I asked William to have a tray of food delivered here. Since you are unable to stand up,” Ginevra paused as he tried to hide an amused smile. Wondering briefly at it, she continued slowly, “I thought it better to have you eat in bed. The faster you heal, the faster I can be on my way home.”

  Wolfe studied her golden locks as they framed her oval face. She was a beautiful woman--her tanned skin, slender athletic body, her round perfect breasts that fit into his palms. Just seeing them all made him ache to possess her again. Licking his lips, he shut his eyes with a groan. Immediately, she was at his side. Her hand went to his forehead to test it for heat.

  Frowning, she leaned over to pull back the coverlet to see his wound. Wolfe’s eyes cracked open to watch her. He could see the exposed tops of her cleavage as she leaned over to tend him. When she was gone, Wolfe had taken his breeches off and thrown them behind the bed. So when she went to check his wound, his manhood stood straight and proud as if looking at her. Ginevra gasped in dismay.

  Wolfe groaned louder. Her eyes flew to meet his obstinate gaze. Seeing that the bandage was still white, she threw the coverlet back over him with a harsh tug. Before, she could walk away, his hand shot out to grab her arm. “Hold, m’lady. What of my injury?”

  “It’s fine. Your ribs will heal, if you quit whining like a girl.” She frowned, disarmed by his nakedness.

  “I was speaking of my other affliction.” He smiled carelessly. “Are you not here to tend me?”

  “There’s naught even a witch could do for your simple mind,” Ginevra said in all seriousness. She was tempted by the firm curve of his manly lips, but the mischievous light in his eyes held her back. It was as if he taunted her. Ripping her arm from his grasp, she stalked out of his reach. “I’m sorry, m’lord. You are cursed.”

  Wolfe laughed, throwing his head back in merriment.

  “I forgot how much fire you had, wife,” he mused when his laughter subsided enough for him to speak. He watched her through veiled eyes and was amazed to see the coloring of a blush on her features.

  “Well, then. You should have been around more,” she snapped.

  “I already explained. I’ve been training.” Wolfe refused to mention his promise to Robert not to touch her. He had told her once. That was enough. “Or would you have me sitting at home idle, coddling you and growing fat? So that when the time for fighting neared, I’d be too weak and too bloated to raise my sword?”

  Ginevra rolled her eyes heavenward. Muttering under her breath, she hissed, “I think it’s your head that’s bloated.”

  “Would you be proud to call such a man husband?” he persisted, unable to hear her words.

  “If I had my way, I’d call no man husband.” Finding a chair hidden in the corner, she pulled it in front of the bed and sat. Her face was as regal as a queen’s.

  At that, his eyes shot up in surprise. “But every lady wishes for a husband.”

  “Not I,” she answered. She met his gaze bravely. “I married you out of duty and because I was too young to know better. Should I be given the same choice now, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “And what would you do if you didn’t marry?” Wolfe felt his frustration growing as he looked at her insolent face. She wasn’t afraid of him. “You would rather be an old maid?”

  “That is a man’s description. I call it freedom.” She yawned delicately, enjoying the incredulous glare in his eyes. “If a woman doesn’t want a man in her bed, you call her frigid. If a woman doesn’t wish to marry, you call her an old maid. If a woman wants to travel about with a sword, you call her mannish. What you disdain, I embrace as freedom.”

  Wolfe froze, never having heard such thoughts before. His eyes grew round as he studied her bored face. He ignored the gripping fear in his chest. Carefully, he asked, “You wish to be free? You want that I should release you from our marriage?”

  It was Ginevra’s turn to be shocked, though she hardly let it show through the hard lines of her face. Pretending to swipe at her skirt, she tilted her head in thought. She hadn’t imagined he would so readily give into her baiting. With a forced sigh, she said, “It’s not possible. What’s done before God shall remain forever done. We are married. I have no choice and neither do you.”

  “What you say could be construed as blasphemy,” he argued. His eyes drew into narrowed slits as he stared at her from the bed. “Are you not afraid?”

  “Nay,” she lowered her lashes to return his hard stare. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Will you honor your vows?” His look was pointed.

  “Yea, I will honor my vows. I will be a loyal wife,” she admitted. “I’ve sworn to it.”

  “You also swore to obey me,” he put forth.

  “Nay, I didn’t,” she smiled victoriously. “If you remember, you arrived late to our nuptials. The priest was drunk, you were drunk, and our fathers were drunk, as were the witnesses. I also suspect my mother was a bit tipped. I swore nothing more than to be a faithful wife. We are married, but I said no vows.”

  Suddenly, he threw back his head in amused laughter. “You’re serious! You would hold that night over my head? Was it not explained to you what happened? I couldn’t help being late.”

  It was no apology and Ginevra didn’t expect one. “Yea, I met Lord Gravely. He’s still very grateful to you for your assistance that night. As is Sarra.”

  The smirk died on his lips. “I thought we had been through this. I will have you mention it no more.”

  “Even if the truth is not said, it’s still the truth,” she muttered. He ignored her by closing his eyes.

  “I’m weary.” His voice was hoarse. “Leave me to my rest, wench.”

  Ginevra stood. When he didn’t open his eyes to look at her, she assumed he already slept. Walking over to him, she laid her fingers on his head. His skin was warm but not feverish. Sighing, she turned and walked from the tent.

  When she was gone, Wolfe opened his eyes to look after her. Frowning, he hit his pillow and turned on his side. Besieged by her words, he fell into troubled sleep.

  The sky darkened and the air began to cool. Sl
owly, with the diligence of the workers, the encampment was torn apart. The stands were dismantled and carted to London. As the eve threatened to turn into night, only a few tents with bonfires of billowing smoke remained. Much to the relief of the king’s guards, no attempt was again made on his majesty’s life.

  The wind picked up. As the lonely sound of birds echoed from the sea of stars, which poked hesitantly through the fog of clouds, Ginevra wandered the desolate encampment in wonderment. Just that morn the tournament had yet to finish and then, within the course of a few blinks, the countryside was barren. In a few days, there would be no sign of anything having taken place in the large field.

  Receiving only a few curious glances from the remaining nobles, Ginevra walked about without escort. Though none approached her, their eyes secretly stayed with her solemn face and sad emerald eyes. She looked for William and Lora, but they were nowhere to be found. Finally, she sighed. Realizing she couldn’t hide any longer from Wolfe and that food would no doubt be brought to her patient’s tent, she turned her feet toward her husband.

  Someone had lit a fire outside the front flap. Stepping gingerly around it, she held her skirt from the bright flames. Reaching for the flap, she paused. Hearing a feminine voice on the other end, she scowled in anger.

  “Come on, Wolfe. She won’t be back for awhile and you don’t look so badly hurt.” Ginevra recognized Lady Helewysa’s shrill voice. It ground across her skin like a mace to the gut. “And besides, I got a healing draught for you betwixt my legs. I’ll make it all better.”

  Hearing her husband’s throaty chuckle, Ginevra threw back the flap. Her eyes instantly sought the naked woman standing before the bed. Helewysa’s gown was around her dainty ankles and her hands were set firmly on her waist. As she cleared her throat to gain the woman’s notice, Helewysa turned, her painted face lighting in horror.

  Without comment, Ginevra stormed to the shocked woman and grabbed her by the back of her hair. Helewysa cried out in dismay as she delicately swatted at her attacker’s hands. Ginevra ignored her as she dragged her to the flap.

  “Wolfe,” Helewysa squeaked. Wolfe watched with a smirk of amusement on his face. He crossed his hands over his chest. He didn’t go to the wanton woman’s aid. He hadn’t asked her to come.

  Ginevra tossed the offending woman out of the tent without a stitch of clothing. Then, she turned to efficiently dispose of the woman’s gown. Helewysa covered herself with her hands as Ginevra tossed her gown into the nearby fire. Realizing she was on display for the remaining camp, Helewysa ran for the cover of the tree line.

  Inside, Ginevra strode nonchalantly to the pitcher of warm ale. Pouring herself a goblet, she gulped it over the rage in her chest. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she poured another cup. Placing the empty pitcher by the full goblet, she turned to Wolfe.

  He sat in the same place, looking at her with innocent eyes from the bed. Grunting, she turned from him and drained the goblet of all its contents.

  “May I have a drink?” he asked with an angelic smile.

  “Nay,” she answered harshly. “It’s all gone.”

  “Oh,” Wolfe said in mild dejection. Then, realizing she had no intention of speaking about what had just transpired with Helewysa, he folded his arms behind his head. Lying down, he asked, “Then can you see to my wound? I think the bandage is in need of a change.”

  Letting go of an audible sigh, she crossed over to the bed. Lifting back the coverlet only far enough to see the bandage, she kept his manhood covered. Blood soaked through the white cloth. Leaning over, she grabbed a fresh bandage and yanked the old one from him. “You shouldn’t have exerted yourself.”

  Her words were flat. He ignored the matter-of-fact tone when he saw the clenching of anger in her jaw and the erratic pulse at her neck. Purposefully, he answered meekly, “I hadn’t yet exerted myself. You came back too soon.”

  “Oh,” she huffed, pulling his old bandage with a hard tug. The cloth stuck to the wound and bled again with her rough handling. Grabbing the wet cloth from the bucket, she swiped the trickle of blood and placed a fresh bandage immediately over it. “Lift up.”

  He did as she commanded. She leaned over him to wind the cloth around his midsection. Then making sure it was secure, she tied the ends neatly into a knot. Setting a firm pat over the covered wound, she stated, “All better.”

  Wolfe grunted in annoyance. She stood from the bed. Her eyes shone victoriously as he glared at her.

  “I think you lack as a nursemaid, wife,” Wolfe sulked. Ginevra ignored him, instead answering the summons from the flap.

  “Yea, Will,” Ginevra called. “Please, enter.”

  William came in with a trencher piled with food. He looked to the bed with raised eyebrows to look at his brother. Turning to Ginevra, he placed the bundle on her outstretched arms. “I see you are well looked after, brother.”

  Wolfe grumbled in response, but said nothing. His wound still smarted from where she’d hit it.

  “And you, Gin?” William inquired with a slight smile of enjoyment.

  “All’s well,” she answered smoothly as if naught was amiss. She laid the trencher on the table.

  “Well, you’ll never guess what happened. Someone tossed Lady Helewysa out of a tent naked. The whole encampment is abuzz with the event. She streaked bare-arsed through the camp to the trees.” William chuckled. Wolfe frowned.

  “You don’t say,” Ginevra stated blandly.

  “Oh, Gin,” William laughed. “So it was you. King Richard was never so amused in his life. He said to tell you he will be by later.”

  Ginevra gulped wondering if she was to be scolded by the king. Taking a deep breath, she shot a glare at Wolfe. “Have you more ale or mead? I think I need a drink.”

  Wolfe’s head snapped about to look at her. She pursed her lips together and gathered the pitcher. Without comment, she stalked from the tent to search out more mead.

  After she had gone, William turned to his brother. “She’s madder than a bucketful of hornets on a stormy lake. You weren’t doing anything, were you?”

  “Nay, Lady Helewysa woke me up. She thought to make me feel better.” Wolfe chuckled at a private joke. “Ginevra just had very unusual timing. I was about to tell her to leave.”

  “You are going to tell her, aren’t you?” William shook his head wearily.

  “Nay,” Wolfe decreed. “And neither will you.”

  William frowned, not liking the decision. Suddenly, someone called from the flap. It was one of the king’s guards. Going outside, Wolfe could hear his brother speaking in low tones. Then, when he returned, King Richard followed him.

  Wolfe moved to stand. The king held up his hand bidding him to stay down. Taking the chair Ginevra left by the bed, he sat.

  He motioned for William to leave. When they were alone, he said, “You must be gravely ill to be abed so long, Lord Wolfe. Have you a need of the physicians again? For they have informed me that your wounds, though long, they are not so deep as to keep you in bed.”

  Wolfe smiled sheepishly. “I have other reasons to stay abed.”

  “Quite so!” Richard laughed. “I don’t blame you.”

  Wolfe’s grin deepened. Sitting up, he kept the coverlet over his midsection. He moved about freely as he lowered his naked arms to his covered knees. A line grew near his narrowed eyes, as he asked seriously, “Are we still to leave on the morrow?”

  “I am,” King Richard stated with a benevolent smile. “But you’ll escort your wife home. When you see her safely delivered, you’ll come to meet with me. I’ll leave your instructions with William as to where I’ll be.”

  “Yea, majesty,” Wolfe answered easily.

  King Richard stood and walked around the chair. Leaning on it, he said, “And Wolfe?”

  “Yea?” Wolfe wondered at the king’s knowing smile.

  “Take your time escorting her back.” Richard stood and walked out the door. Ginevra met him with a full pitcher. Wolfe quickly
lay back on the bed and adjusted his coverlet.

  “Majesty,” she said with a small curtsey.

  “Ah, Lady Ginevra.” The king nodded his head for her to stand. With a smirk lining his features and a light of merriment shining from his wise eyes, he declared simply, “Outstanding.”

  Ginevra blushed as the king stepped past her to disappear in the darkness. Then, letting a look of dispassion overcome her features, she moved to place the pitcher on the table.

  “What did the king want?” she asked carefully.

  “To inquire as to my status. He bid me to escort you home while I recover.” Wolfe watched her every move from the corner of his eyes. She lifted his dagger and sliced through the loaf of bread. Then, cutting a hunk of cheese, she walked over to lay them unceremoniously on his stomach.

  “Eat,” she commanded before walking back to the trencher. Lifting the bread to her lips, she took a bite. Then, filling the goblet, she brought Wolfe a drink. He took it from her gratefully.

  Suddenly, Ginevra frowned as she heard another person outside the tent. Going to the opening, she lifted back the flap. A gush of liquid came forward to douse her in a mighty splash. Ginevra howled in surprise. Lady Helewysa’s laughter trailed off into the distance as the woman ran away.

  Ginevra froze in anger. Muddied water dripped over her face and down the front of her bodice. Dropping the flap, she dug her fingers into her eyes to swipe away chunks of muck. Flicking it on the floor of the tent, she turned to Wolfe’s laughter with a glare.

  “I am going to kill that woman,” Ginevra stated, hatred dripping from her voice. Flicking her hands again, she walked to the edge of the bed. “Where’s my trunk?”

  “I didn’t see it delivered.” Wolfe frowned. Sitting up, he tried to see the end of the bed.

  “Perfect,” Ginevra fumed. Leaning over, she lifted the lid to Wolfe’s trunk and started riffling through it. Grabbing an old pair of breeches, a leather strap and an undertunic, she slammed the lid.

  “Ho,” Wolfe protested.

  “I’m not looking,” she stated against his annoyance. “There’s mud in my eyes and I can’t see anyway.”