by Regan Walker
When he didn’t reply, a chill settled within her. “Did you have some other reason for kissing me?” The coldness tinged with a sense of betrayal. “Did you finally claim the kiss I did not grant you years ago?”
“What do you think, Mary?”
His rasped words held annoyance and longing. Oh, mercy, she didn’t know what to think. She also did not want to be a fool.
Find Claire. Seek her advice.
“I have no more to say to you right now,” Mary blurted. She raced to the door, yanked it open, and fled.
“He kissed you?” Claire whispered.
Mary’s burning face grew even hotter. “I can hardly believe it myself.” Sitting on a blanket spread out in front of the hearth in the hall, she handed Norwin a cloth dragon with scales embroidered in gold thread. The babe, on his belly on the blanket and kicking his legs, was clearly delighted by the dragon, one of the toys Lady de Lanceau had left out; things she’d saved from when Edouard and his sister had been young.
“I did not think Holden would be so brazen, but mayhap I should not be surprised,” said Claire, seated in a chair by the fire with Isolde asleep in her arms. “You told me earlier that he’d sought your kiss before.”
Mary glanced out across the hall. Thankfully, they almost had it to themselves, apart from three servants who were chatting among themselves while they polished silver to be used on Christmas Day. The hall wouldn’t be so empty for long, though. Grinning as though he was plotting mischief, Tye had convinced Aldwin, Dominic, and Edouard to go with him to cut mistletoe growing in the castle garden’s fruit trees, but would return shortly. Lord and Lady de Lanceau and the others also would return to the castle soon.
“Why did Holden kiss me?” Mary asked, moving a small, carved wooden goat into Norwin’s reach. “To finally be able to say he had? To consider himself victorious in what happened between us in the past?”
“He may well have done.” Claire smiled. “Or, he might have thought you so beautiful, been so drawn to you—as he had been years ago—that he could not resist kissing you.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Now you are teasing me.”
“I am not—”
“I am not beautiful. I know that all too well.”
“You are!”
Even as Claire offered reassurance, Mary heard her father’s words; ones she’d never forget:
You are not blessed with your sister’s beauty.
You are looking fat.
You are not here to entice squires.
How she wished she could ignore the ache that gripped her soul, but the hurt was too deeply ingrained. And, there was painful truth in the words. A magnificent man like Holden would seek an exquisitely lovely, willowy lady to be his wife, not a plump, plain-looking noblewoman.
“You are beautiful,” Claire insisted.
“It does not matter. Holden does not want me, just as he did not six years ago.”
“Of course he did. Why do you think he put you through all of those torments?”
“He was being mean—and because, as the Lord of Misrule, he could.”
Smiling, Claire said, “He was also young, and I suspect he had little experience in wooing a lady. He was trying to get you to notice him, kind of like a male peacock showing off his tail feathers.”
The fire popped, startling Norwin. Mary cooed to him and set a comforting hand on his back.
“Tell me what you are thinking,” Claire said gently.
Mary sighed. There was no point withholding her thoughts; Claire would only pry them out of her. “I am…confused.”
“Was Holden chivalrous about the kiss?”
“He was not completely honest about his intentions.” When Claire frowned, Mary added, “But, he did not force me, either.”
“Good, or I would send Tye up to the tower to confront him.” After a silence, Claire asked: “Was it a nice kiss?”
Mary couldn’t hold back a grin. “Aye.”
Claire squealed, her tone hushed so as not to wake Isolde. “If I was not holding my baby, I would throw my arms around you and hug you.”
Mary chuckled, but her smile swiftly faded. “I do not understand why his kiss thrilled me so. He is the one man I did not want to ever kiss. Not after….”
Claire nodded. “I had such conflicting feelings when I first met Tye, remember? I did not understand how I could be attracted to our captor who was a hunted criminal. But, I soon realized there was a far better man in him than I had ever expected; a man who had never experienced genuine love, but who deserved to be loved. Mayhap your heart is telling you that you should give Holden a chance.”
Mary gnawed her lower lip.
“He will have changed, grown wiser, since you last saw him. He is a man now.”
“How can I know for certain?”
Mischief sparkled in Claire’s gaze. “That he is wiser? Or that he is a man?”
Mary giggled. “Claire.”
“Without a doubt, he is a man—and a very handsome one. His concern for his nephew shows he has a kind and gallant heart, too.”
“I agree he has a kind heart,” Mary murmured. After seeing him earlier with Norwin, Mary had no doubt Holden would make a wonderful father. Not that she’d considered him as a potential husband for herself.
Claire adjusted the blanket wrapped around slumbering Isolde. “As for whether or not he regrets what happened in the past….”
A shudder trailed through Mary. “I do not want to be made a fool by him again; certainly not this Christmas.”
“And rightly so. ’Twould be noble of him to say he is sorry for what happened. I do hope he will find the courage to apologize.”
Astonishment rippled through Mary. “Courage?” She’d never imagined a warrior like Holden would ever lack it.
“We all have things we find difficult. Like most men, he is proud. ’Twill be hard for him to accept he was wrong and say sorry, but he should.”
Mary gazed down at Norwin, burbling at the toy dragon.
“If Holden does not seek your forgiveness, then he is not worthy of you—and you will never kiss him again.”
The defiance in her best friend’s voice made Mary grin.
Grinning back, Claire asked, “Are you feeling better now?”
“Much better.”
“I am glad I could help.”
A draft gusted across the planks. Familiar male voices and women’s laughter floated up from the forebuilding, along with the echo of footsteps.
“Sounds like Tye and the others have returned,” Claire said. “Lord and Lady de Lanceau as well.”
Holden peered through the arrow slit in the wall above the trestle table. The sky bore the orange-red hues of encroaching twilight. As he leaned away from the mortared stone wall and lifted his palms from the table, he sighed, the sound turning into a growl.
How he hated being confined. Restlessness crawled through him, a reminder that the mercenary, who might know who had arranged the attack earlier, was in the dungeon somewhere nearby; that the day was passing without Holden being able to do a damned thing to hunt down and punish those responsible for endangering his life, and more importantly, Norwin’s.
Hunger gnawed, too; desire that had burned with steady fire ever since he’d kissed Mary. He ached to take her in his arms again, to kiss her more thoroughly, to show her that the touch of his lips had been nothing—nothing—compared to what they could share together.
But, he might never get such a chance. She’d seemed unimpressed by their kiss, as though she’d had far better from other lords, even though he’d thought her to be an innocent. She’d hurriedly left, removing any possibility of him improving upon the kiss the second time around.
Had he lost his prowess?
Even worse, had he never really been that good at kissing, but imagined he was?
What wretched thoughts.
Holden walked to the opposite side of the chamber then back, flexing his stiff, bruised arm. The healer had visited a short wh
ile ago to check his wounds again. Even before she’d asked him to sit in a chair so she could tend to him, he’d figured out how to take her hostage and use her in subduing the guards outside.
Acting on the plan would have made him feel as if he was accomplishing something. But, his deep sense of honor wouldn’t allow him to use a woman, whose skills bettered and saved the lives of others, in an escape attempt in which she could be harmed. So, after thanking her for the excellent infusion that had eliminated his headache, he’d sat quietly while she worked then thanked her again before she’d left, leaving him in exactly the same situation as before.
Dropping back down on the cot, Holden plowed both of his hands into his hair. As he did so, voices reached him from outside the chamber. He rose and straightened his tunic.
The door opened, and a broad-shouldered man, his wavy brown hair silvered with gray, strode in: Geoffrey de Lanceau. Edouard, Tye, Aldwin, and Dominic followed.
When his lordship’s steel-gray gaze fixed on Holden, awe and unease flickered inside him; once again, he felt like a young, untrained squire facing the famous warrior he greatly admired.
Taking care not to move too fast and become dizzy, Holden dropped into a respectful bow. “Milord.”
The door clicked shut. Holden straightened to see de Lanceau’s sons and warrior friends standing in front of the door, blocking the only way out.
The older lord studied him with a keen, unflinching gaze. “Good day,” he finally said. “Holden.”
Relief trailed through him; he’d dreaded not being recognized by de Lanceau and having to prove his identity. “Good day to you, milord.”
“He is definitely the man who served you as squire?” Tye asked.
“Aye. I recognize his bearing, as well as his scar. Holden, tell the others how you got it.”
“Of course, milord: here at Branton Keep, a couple of months before I left. I was sparring with a squire named Selden, who accidentally cut my face.”
“The healer said you were lucky you did not lose your eye,” his lordship said.
“Lucky indeed,” Holden agreed. He’d resented the scar at first, for the way it blemished his countenance. But, after encountering warriors, young and old, with far worse facial disfigurements and even missing limbs, he did indeed consider himself fortunate.
“How long has it been since you left the castle?” de Lanceau asked.
“Five-and-a-half years, milord.”
De Lanceau shook his head. “It does not seem that long ago.”
Memories stole into Holden’s thoughts. “The spring morning I left Branton Keep to begin my journey to France, ’twas overcast and raining. Regardless, you came to the bailey to see me off and wished me well on my travels. I was truly honored.”
A smile tugged at his lordship’s mouth.
“You also gifted me with a dagger, a fine weapon with a leather-wrapped hilt. That blade has saved my life many times.”
De Lanceau’s smile tinged with admiration. “You were one of my best squires. I was sorry to lose you.”
“Thank you, milord.”
“How long were you in France?”
“Years. Until I returned to England a couple of months ago.”
“I grew up in France.” Tye folded his arms across his chest. “Whereabouts did you live?”
“Normandy.”
“So did I.” The dark-haired lord smiled. “Mayhap we lived near one another.”
“’Tis possible, I suppose, although Normandy is a big place. I worked for an English nobleman who had been granted permission to keep living on the estate that he and his family had managed for years, provided he did not rise up against his French overlord.”
“What kind of work did you do?” Aldwin asked.
“I was a man-at-arms, until the captain-of-the-guard died. I was promoted to his post.”
“Excellent experience for your position at Altingstow Keep,” de Lanceau noted.
“Aye, milord.”
“Yet, I am guessing there was also another reason you chose to stay in France?”
Holden ignored the heat warming his cheekbones. “I married the lord’s daughter.”
“Now the conversation gets interesting,” Tye muttered.
Holden frowned, for he wasn’t speaking of his past in France to amuse anyone. He bloody well wanted out of the tower.
After casting Tye a sharp glance, de Lanceau said: “Go on. The daughter?”
“’Twas not a love match,” Holden admitted. “Many French noblemen had taken advantage of the war with England to expand their family’s holdings. My lord loved his daughter and was concerned she would be forced to wed. I cared enough about her that I wanted to protect her, and so, when he asked me to marry her, I agreed. Regrettably, she died from sickness last October.”
“Any sons or daughters?” Edouard asked.
Fighting sadness, Holden shook his head.
“So, with her dead, you were free to return to Moydenshire,” Dominic said.
“Aye. When I wrote to Penley, told him I was coming back to England, he offered me the position of captain-of-the-guard of his garrison. ’Twas a welcome offer, since I had intended to seek work once I arrived in London. I was never going to inherit—my older brother got the family estate—and Penley had married my sister, so I accepted.”
“Now you are the one training squires,” de Lanceau said.
Holden chuckled. “I am indeed.”
“I am curious. Did you keep in touch with Selden? I remember he was your rival here.”
Holden didn’t have good memories of Selden; he did his best to ignore the irritation that had stirred at mention of the other man. “I did not keep in touch with him, milord. Penley told me Selden had visited Altingstow a couple of times, usually when he was between jobs, but that that he had never stayed long.”
“I have not seen him in years,” his lordship said, regret in his voice. “Did you know the sovereign seized his father’s estate?”
“I did not. Why?”
“Unpaid taxes owed to the crown. The estate was ceded to another lord, whose sons will inherit—not Selden.”
Even as Holden wondered if Penley was aware of Selden’s circumstances, de Lanceau said: “I am told you were on your way here this morning, to try and protect your nephew. What can you tell me of the recent danger to the child?”
“I do not know who is responsible, but I will find out.” Holden scowled. “I posted extra guards about the keep, and still, someone managed to get close enough to Norwin to almost kidnap him.”
De Lanceau’s expression turned grim. “Penley is not the only lord whose child was almost abducted.”
God’s blood. “How many others?”
“Four that I know of.”
A foul taste gathered in Holden’s mouth. “Did all of the lords support the Magna Carta?”
De Lanceau nodded once.
“If anyone kidnapped Isolde and tried such wickedness with me….” Tye shook his head. “Once I got hold of him, the bastard would be missing favorite body parts.”
“On that, we agree,” Edouard said to his half-brother. “I would not tolerate threats to Isolde or Rosemary.”
Holden’s hands balled into fists. “We must stop these whoresons.”
“We will,” de Lanceau said.
“I want to help.” Holden glanced at each of the men. “I cannot accomplish anything shut away in this tower.”
Tye’s brows rose. “Really? I heard you managed quite well earlier today.”
Disquiet rushed through Holden. Was Tye referring to Holden’s kiss with Mary? If so, that matter surely was between him and Mary and none of Tye’s concern.
“Explain,” de Lanceau said.
Tye raised his hands, palm up. “Not I, Father. Holden should be the one to tell.”
His lordship’s steely gaze returned to Holden. “What happened?”
He squared his shoulders. “I kissed Mary.”
Aldwin whistled.
“Lady Westbrook’s first ever kiss on the lips, I believe,” Tye said.
“If I remember correctly, wanting her kiss got you into trouble some Christmases ago,” Lord de Lanceau said wryly.
Holden glowered at Tye. “I doubt Mary confided in you. How did you even find out?”
“My lovely wife.” Tye smirked. “She wondered whether I should come up here and kick your arse. I promised I would happily do so, if warranted.” His mirth fading, he added, “I warn you now, since Mary is Claire’s best friend, I will defend her honor.”
“No need,” Holden said firmly. “’Twas the barest of kisses, and I was gallant about it.”
“If you are the man I remember, I am sure you were,” de Lanceau said.
Grateful for his lordship’s confidence in him, Holden released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“We could use your skills,” his lordship said, “to help capture those responsible for today’s assault.”
At last. “I am at your command, milord.”
“Good.” De Lanceau’s gaze shifted to Edouard. “See that Holden’s weapons are returned to him.”
“Aye, Father.”
“You will no longer have guards, Holden,” his lordship added, “and are free to go where you like about the keep. First, though, I wish to hear in detail of your attack. I am sure Lord and Lady Fielding would like to hear your account as well. ’Twill also give me an opportunity to ask about the letters Penley received.”
Holden’s pulse jolted. “Penley and Odette are here?”
“They arrived not long after we did,” de Lanceau replied. “They are in the great hall now, reunited with their son. Tye, you will escort the Fieldings to the solar. Since my chamber is larger and more comfortable, we will continue this meeting there shortly.”
Chapter 9
“I cannot thank you enough.” Odette’s eyes glistened with tears. “Truly, I am so grateful to you both for helping Norwin today.”
Standing with Claire near the great hall’s hearth, Mary smiled at the elegant young woman sitting in the chair near the fire. There could be no doubt Odette was Holden’s sister. She looked so much like him, not just in the color of her hair and eyes, but her aristocratic features.
