The Knight Before Christmas: A Knight’s Tale Book 4

by Darcy, Diane

  Head down-bent, she nodded.

  He felt a bit of uncertainty creep in once more and cast a dubious look at the silent Juliana. With any luck, this wordless phase of their courtship would quickly be over with, and they could have a lively conversation.

  Preferably sooner, rather than later.

  Chapter 5

  Madison’s heart beat rapidly as she reached up and tried to unclasp the earrings.

  She tried one, and then the other, and found that she couldn’t seem to understand the catch.

  A swell of panic rose up to suffocate her and she pulled one hearing hard enough that it pinched, and when she drew her thumb and finger away, there was a spot of blood.

  She tried to calm down as she met Father Cuthbert’s gaze. “No, really, I’m not sure how you did that, but you need to take them back. I’m not interested in your offer, or your jewelry.”

  He looked a little guilty, only the slightest bit, as he glanced to her right, then to her left.

  The hair on the back of her neck lifted, and she whirled around. The building, and everything in it had changed. It all looked different.

  The screen guarding the tomb was gone.

  She could see the altar beyond and a bevy of priests. One young man, his face slack, looked back at her, askance.

  The whole place was recognizable as the Durham Cathedral, but changed, the bones of the place the same, but the decor, the tapestries, and even some of the walls, completely different.

  Her breath left her in a rush.

  Had she lost her mind? Or… or maybe she was home, in bed, dreaming once again?

  She wanted to feel relief at the thought, but all this, and the man standing in front of her, felt too real and she asked, “What have you done?” She barely recognized her own voice.

  “I’m taking you to meet your beloved.”

  She shivered at the biting cold, which was also a change, and wrapped her poncho closer about her.

  Or maybe she was simply trembling in shock. “My dad will look for me.”

  “I’ve softened his feeling, so he’ll not feel the pain of your loss.”

  She shivered on a wave of fear.

  Father Cuthbert didn’t look the least bit remorseful and, without thought, she turned and ran. Down steps, past the High Altar, and the monks clad in brown who cried out at her sudden appearance.

  They seemed more startled than she did, and many crossed themselves against her.

  She didn’t stop, didn’t get lost this time, and when she reached the entrance, she pushed the door open.

  She was breathing hard, the cold air misting in front of her, and she finally came to a halt at the top of the stairs.

  It was snowing.

  The castle was there, but many of the outbuildings were different. People were dressed differently, many in coarse, rough clothing. Women in dresses, men in tunics, guards wearing chain, all of them busily going about their business.

  Some of the structures that had been stone, were made of wood, similar to before, but vastly different.

  There wasn’t a lawn, there were no cars, tour buses, or tourists with cameras.

  Two horses pulled an ornate, gilded carriage to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

  Father Cuthbert walked up behind her, as if he had all the time in the world, and stopped at her side.

  She could’ve been drugged, though she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink, and he hadn’t touched her.

  “What exactly is the date today?” she asked, and though her heart thudded in her chest, she said the words calmly enough.

  “’Tis Christmas Day, 1261.”

  “Of course, it is,” she said faintly. She’d missed autumn, and somehow that seemed significant, amusing, and she gave a short laugh. “Merry Christmas, to me.”

  He watched her closely, and she finally turned to face him.

  “Why, exactly, are you doing this?”

  He sighed. “Must you be so vexing? I am fixing this, am I not? I am sending you to your true love?”

  Her mouth dropped at his attitude. “What do you want, a cookie?”

  He looked interested. “Do you have one?”

  She shot him a nasty look.

  He sighed. “No? Well, you are supposed to be here. I simply brought you home.”

  She looked around at the cathedral, at the castle. “Here?”

  “No, but not far from here. Are you up for a carriage ride?”

  A fire, small, but burning, lit within her, and she crossed her arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter 6

  She wasn’t talking to the man sitting across from her, anymore.

  It was pointless.

  On Father Cuthbert’s orders, she’d been herded by a flock of priests, none of whom quite dared to touch her, into a windowless room to dress or be dressed. The choice of modesty, her decision.

  He’d said it as if he were doing her a favor. Ha!

  Her clothes were stolen, though she was supposedly going to get them back in twelve days. She snorted, a rude noise that echoed in the carriage, the first she’d made in a while.

  She’d been gifted a trunk of dresses, and Father Cuthbert had looked hurt that she hadn’t appreciated his largesse. She’d never admit it, but she was grateful for the warmth of the green gown and matching cloak. Without it, she’d be even more miserable in this cold carriage.

  The vehicle jostled along, luxurious, walls and pillows covered in silk, but the lack of suspension was killing her.

  Guards rode beside them. The same ones who’d wrestled her into the space while Father Cuthbert made sounds of distress, begging her to enter.

  She was locked in, she’d had to try, but it wasn’t like she had anywhere to go.

  Luckily, it had stopped snowing, because she would hate to be stranded out here with this… Jerk? Madman? Guardian angel? She hadn’t the slightest idea how to think of him.

  When they’d first started out, she done some fast talking, explaining about her life, her family, and school starting soon. She had responsibilities.

  He’d been understanding enough, and reminded her of their deal. Twelve days.

  Her soulmate was an hour’s drive away, and she’d discovered yet another reason this would never work out. She was from the land of sunshine, and had no desire to live in this cold wasteland.

  She was going to hold Father Cuthbert to his promise to let her go.

  They passed through the village and she could see attached homes, and an occasional person standing out in the cold, watching them go by.

  Most would appear to have more sense, and were inside on this cold winter’s day.

  They hadn’t spoken for at least thirty minutes when they finally pulled onto a long drive. She was curious enough to pull the thick curtain all the way over and stick her head out of the carriage to see the castle in the distance.

  It looked like a Norman structure with two towers and a wall.

  And why did she know this? Because she’d been studying stinking Durham Castle and Cathedral for a good part of the last year.

  She could see ramparts, arrow slits, a drawbridge, and a raised portcullis.

  “’Tis called Riverdale.”

  “Uh, huh.” Overwhelmed, she sat back against the seat again, and pulled her newly gifted cloak tightly about her.

  “You will see,” Father Cuthbert broke the silence. “Everything will be all right, you will see.”

  “Because I’m going to meet my soulmate?” The words were caustic, filled with sarcasm.

  He nodded.

  They went through two gates, over a river, and stopped in a huge courtyard. She heard someone call out, a man’s voice coming closer as he spoke with one of their guards.

  The door was opened, and she kept her face turned away toward the other window.

  “My dear,” Father Cuthbert said, his voice chiding.

  She took a breath, let it out, and finally turned to look at the man who held out his hand.

>   She studied him for a long moment. And all right, he was a good-looking guy. Tanned and rugged, with a large muscular chest, and a big smile. “My lady?” He kept his hand hovering in the air, offering it to her.

  She felt a burst of relief. She felt nothing for him. Nothing more than she would have for any stranger she met on the street.

  After everything that had happened today, she’d expected an explosion of recognition, or some sort of emotional high upon meeting her soulmate. Ha!

  Almost giddy with relief, she took his hand and the only thrill she felt was over the fact that her skin did not so much as tingle.

  No zip, no zap, nada.

  She shot Father Cuthbert a triumphant look. “I can tell you right now that this is not going to work. You might as well take me back.”

  “Twelve days,” he reminded, with a gentle smile.

  The love of her life must have gotten tired of waiting, because she was tugged out of the carriage and was soon standing beside him on hard-packed earth.

  The door was firmly shut once more, and her trunk thudded on the ground, unloaded by two guards.

  “Wait! Aren’t you going to stay?”

  Father Cuthbert leaned out the window and addressed the man at her side. “This is Lady Madison Holland, and she is under my protection. Let your lord know I’ll be back on Epiphany to collect my ward. Until then, I expect her to be treated well.”

  “Yes, Father,” the man nodded, a quick bow of his head.

  Cuthbert knocked on the carriage, the driver clicked his tongue, and the horses surged forward, the guards on horseback falling in line.

  “Wait!” She followed. “Are you just going to drop me off like a delivery?” She continued on for a moment, then realized the futility as the distance between them widened.

  She could run after them, but knew they wouldn’t stop for her, anyway.

  Her shoulders slumped, as she watched the distance grow.

  A priest, a large, portly gentleman dressed in brown robes and a fur-lined coat, came out of the chapel nestled in one corner. He glanced between her and the carriage with a look of astonishment. “Who was that?”

  “Father Cuthbert from Durham,” said the man behind her. “Bringing his ward for Christmas. Until Epiphany.”

  The priest, walking closer, focused on her. “And who might you be?”

  Her eyebrows rose at his sharp tone. She already felt like a lost kid in a department store.

  His face fell as he came to a stop before her. “Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear, such bad manners on my part. I am Father Benedict. And you are?”

  Her lips pressed tight. She was someone who’d had her fill of priests for the day.

  “She is Lady Madison Holland, come from Durham Cathedral.” Her soulmate, she hadn’t caught his name yet, offered his arm. “My lady?”

  She wished she could believe this entire thing was a hoax of some sort, but she didn’t.

  It might feel like some sort of bad fairytale, but her freezing toes let her know it was real enough.

  And it would end in twelve days. The length of her vacation to England.

  She’d simply have to cling to that.

  “My lady?”

  She ignored what’s-his-name’s arm and preceded him to the huge door he indicated.

  The two men followed.

  She could do this for twelve days.

  It wasn’t like she had a choice.

  Chapter 7

  Mr. Soulmate opened the door for Madison and she quickly went inside, while she refrained from looking at him.

  She already didn’t feel anything for him, and while he seemed a perfectly nice man, if she had nothing to do with him for the next twelve days, the status quo would remain the same.

  That was her plan, and she was sticking to it.

  It smelled really good inside, like a five-star restaurant, and Madison’s stomach clenched.

  She was hungry, and since it had technically been hundreds of years since she’d last eaten, ha ha, it was no wonder.

  She could hear music, people talking, and she naturally headed in that direction.

  There was a sudden jarring note, the music stopped, and she realized that, of course, there would be actual musicians rather than a stereo system.

  She ended up following two girls carrying armloads of greenery into what could only be the great hall.

  There were a lot of people milling about.

  And every one of them seemed to be in a good mood.

  The room was enormous with high ceilings, wooden beams running across the top, and a huge fireplace burning off to one side.

  There were several long tables set up with women busily working, chatting, and laughing.

  The musicians were situated in one corner, a man strumming something that looked like a wonky guitar while he led others in a song. They stopped and laughed several times, and it looked like they were practicing something.

  Women cleaned the room, poured drinks, while others lay greenery on tables. One group seemed to have women wearing rough-hewn clothing, while another long table had a silk-and-velvet group gathered.

  Maybe she should be glad for the clothes Father Cuthbert had given her, as it set her within the latter group.

  Not that she had anything against hard work. She was usually the one waiting tables and on her feet all day long.

  But this was her vacation, after all.

  The silk-clad ladies wore jewel-colored clothing, and one of the younger girls had a circlet in her hair. An older lady wore lavish jewelry.

  Yep. There was definitely a pecking order here.

  Father Benedict rushed ahead, and Mr. Soulmate extended his arm once more. She ignored him and walked toward the group of well-dressed ladies.

  They started to nudge each other until one by one, they all stared at Madison.

  When they reached the table, Father Benedict introduced her with an arm-waving flourish. “Lady Philippa, this is Lady Madison Holland, come from Durham Castle and Cathedral. She is a ward of Father Cuthbert, and in our care until after Twelfth Night.”

  The older, jewelry-wearing lady nodded and smiled. “Welcome. Please, come and join us.”

  “Thank you,” Madison bit back the sudden impulse to curtsy, along with the chuckle it inspired. She lifted a leg over the bench, adjusted her dress, and took a seat.

  “Who are your parents, dear? How did you come to be a ward of the Cathedral?”

  For a moment, Madison was completely at a loss. If she was supposed to have a cover story, Cuthbert certainly hadn’t given her one.

  But why worry about it? She wasn’t staying, and didn’t have to pretend she was someone she wasn’t.

  For the most part, anyway.

  “My parents are Grant and Joan Holland, of Sedona, Arizona.”

  The ladies looked around at each other and Lady Philippa finally said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know them.”

  Madison didn’t suppose that she did.

  “Can we expect them to join us?”

  Madison shook her head. “My mother is dead, and my father remarried, so, no, they won’t be coming.”

  The ladies made sympathetic noises.

  “I expect the cloister did not know what to do with you.”

  “I expect not,” Madison said with a grin as she remembered the monks trying to herd her into a room.

  “Lady Madison, this is Lady Felicia, her daughter, Lady Juliana, Lady Ormonde, and Lady Vera.” Lady Philippa indicated each woman as she said her name.

  “It’s nice to meet you all. And please, call me Madison,” she said, as the ladies murmured their own greetings.

  “How is it that you come to us on Christmas Day?” Lady Philippa’s eyes were bright with curiosity.

  Madison shrugged. “Father Cuthbert decided I would come here for the Twelve days of Christmas, and though I tried not to impose on your goodwill, he insisted.”

  That was one way of putting it, anyway.

  One of the ladies titte
red, “Your way of speech is very different.”

  “It is,” Madison agreed.

  As they continued to weave greenery together, Lady Philippa noted her interest. “Juliana, the two of you are close in age. Would you please sit beside Lady Madison and show her what to do?”

  The youngest lady in the group, a pretty blonde, exchanged seats with another lady. When she was settled, she quietly said, “Take the greenery, some thread, and tie small pieces of mistletoe ever so often, like so,” she demonstrated.

  “We are making a double ring of mistletoe to hang,” said Lady Ormonde. “For every kiss, you get to remove one of the berries. One for each peck.”

  The ladies all laughed again, and Lady Ormonde grinned at Juliana. “Perhaps you will collect all of them for yourself this year?”

  When Juliana ducked her head, the ladies laughed again.

  Madison was separating a piece of thread when Lady Philippa asked, “Madison, have you eaten?”

  “No, I’m starving.”

  “Are you still fasting?” Lady Vera sounded shocked.

  “No doubt you did want to get away from the cathedral,” Lady Ormonde said. “Those monks will starve you until you’re skin and bones. Father Benedict is not so bad. You should have arrived a couple of hours earlier. What a feast!”

  Lady Phillipa waved a girl over, and sent her for some food.

  “Thank you,” Madison said.

  She started to copy the other ladies, tying the jewel-like berries to a branch of holly. She glanced around the hall. “Where is the Christmas tree?”

  “The what?” Lady Vera asked.

  Madison looked around the group. “The Christmas tree.”

  When all she received were blank stares, she said, “You know, you cut down a tree, haul it inside, and decorate it. I guess you could use candles, cookies, and dried fruit.”

  They stared at her with a weird sort of fascination, and then they glanced around at each other.

  “Have you ever heard of such a thing?” Lady Ormonde asked hesitantly.

  The other ladies shook their heads, and then looked at Madison with more interest. “You have such things where you come from?” Lady Vera asked.