"Excuse me?" Dustin sputtered, incredulous.
"I will accept your challenge for her hand."
"My kind, sir, the words were merely meant to placate the Moorish woman. We already have an arrangement."
"Is that so?" the knight asked.
"My Lady is not betrothed," called out Charlotte. "The winner may take her hand as companion for the next masquerade. Nothing more."
"When is this masquerade?" The mystery knight's voice sounded like a deep baritone emanating from inside his armor.
"Six months from the morrow, my Lord." Charlotte fluttered her fan in front of my face, causing the wispy hairs around my forehead to flutter. She always claimed the action made me look beguiling. "It is the end-of-the-year ball. Grandest masquerade of the season."
He swept into a deep bow. "Aye, then. We joust for her hand for the masquerade."
I turned to Charlotte, eyes wide. "What did you just do?" I whispered through clenched teeth.
"Sit, milady," she whispered back from behind the fan. "I have a good feeling."
I sat. "You'd better be right!"
A squire stepped forward, parchment in hand. He read the rules out loud.
"Three blows landed for the win. Break your opponent's lance for the win. Unseat the other rider for the win. Do you agree?"
"Yes," said Lord Dustin. But a telltale bead of nervous sweat ran down his temple, replacing what he'd just wiped off. He shook out the kerchief at his side.
"I do," said the knight in iron.
"Names on the board!" The squire called, then stood back. I squinted to make out the name across from Lord Dustin's, but the board was too far across the grassy field to see. Waves of heat made my vision shimmy and blur. "Lances at the ready."
Both men sat up straight, lances held out at their sides.
"TILT!"
They galloped towards each other full speed. The man in the copper iron armor sat straight up, riding with an ease that belied the weight of the lance, while Dustin struggled, careening from side to side. In what felt like an instant, the lance of the golden knight struck him, sending him flying feet over head off of the horse.
His valet and groomsman rushed out to the field, helping him onto his feet. Face red with embarrassment, Dustin gave a swift bow to his opponent, who remained seated on his horse.
"Match in favor of Sir Ibáñez."
The squire reset the tournament board. "Next course: Lord Abbey against Sir Derry. Clear the field."
With one arm supported by his valet and the other tucked around his groomsman, Lord Dustin made his way back to where Charlotte and I were seated.
"My Lady." He gasped for air, sounding as if he choked on his own breath.
"My Lord, are you all right?" I removed a handkerchief from my dress, and waved it in his face, fanning him. He swayed unsteadily, as if a slight wind would push him over. "You look a bit peaked. Don't you think, Charlotte?"
"Yes, Lord Dustin should certainly retire for the evening. Have a large brandy."
"I think I shall." He stumbled a bit, caught on either arm by his men. "Although I won't be able to accompany you myself, I do still look forward to seeing you at the masquerade." He gave a dizzy salute.
I stifled a giggle. "Oh, yes. Good show, my Lord."
And with a dazed expression on his face, his men escorted him out.
"Brilliant!" I clapped in delight. "Dearest Charlotte, is your clairvoyance ever incorrect?"
"Not yet," she beamed. "Now let's have a look at who won your hand, shall we?"
In unison, we turned back to the field, where the iron knight had since climbed down from his horse and led it to the stable. I could see him directing his groom, a sweet-faced boy who looked to be no older than 20. He had yet to remove his helmet.
As if he were drawn to my gaze, he looked up. After resting a hand lightly on the boy's shoulder for a moment, he began to walk confidently towards me. His long stride ate up the distance between us, and I felt something unfamiliar blooming in the pit of my stomach: the heat of attraction.
You haven't even seen his face! I chided myself. He might be abhorrent. He might be daffier than Lord Dustin. Or ancient. Or…
He removed his helmet. I gasped in surprise.
He was a Moor. His skin was a deep, rich shade of brown that glowed with vitality in the late afternoon sun. Large, amber colored eyes dominated the top half of his face and were offset by a broad nose and full lips. His hair was trimmed shorter than was currently en vogue, tight spiral curls dancing around an open, earnest face.
He was beautiful.
"I am Sir Amir Ibáñez."
He swept into a deep bow once he reached us. I glanced to my left, to see that Charlotte's mouth was hanging open. I gave her a nudge. She snapped her lips together.
"Of Mazara del Vallo. Sergeant in the Venetian Army, knighted by His Royal Highness for my service in the Byzantine conflict. I am in York to compete in the tournament, and I do believe Fate has smiled upon my first match."
"Good sir." I curtsied. "I am Lady Miryam Alcalá, daughter of traders Hani and Amina Alcalá. This is my Lady-In-Waiting, Charlotte Foulis." She bowed her head in respect. "We offer our sincerest congratulations on your win today. I am honored to offer you my hand for the masquerade."
"The honor is mine. My valet Alfaro awaits instructions from your handmaiden on attire. Shall I fetch him?"
"Beg your pardon, good sir! I shall go."
"Charlotte!" But before I could say another word, she was out of the tent and roaming across the grass to the boy, leaving us alone.
"That was… an impressive display of skill." I struggled to find the ability to speak. His eyes were like warm pools of light, and I could feel myself getting lost in them. "I am sure Lord Dustin didn't know what hit him, quite literally."
He smiled, stark white teeth standing out in blinding contrast against his brown skin.
"Witty as well as beautiful," he said, and I felt a warm flush blaze across my cheeks at the compliments. "I hope I didn't hurt your Lord too badly."
"He isn't my… we aren't… he is only a friend."
"He seemed rather possessive of you."
"I belong to no one but myself." I said the words firmly. "And I quite like it that way."
"As do I. For 33 years now, I have been a bachelor." A look of something—discomfort?—flitted across his face.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "No wife nor children? Not even an illegitimate child sired off a stable girl or handmaiden?"
"No," he said quietly.
"And why, pray tell, not? The bachelors in this town might be dragged kicking and screaming to the marriage bed, but not without bedding and breeding as many poor girls as they can first."
"I have my reasons," he replied cryptically. "What about you? A beautiful young maiden, unmarried, and quite enamored of life that way?"
"I will be turning 30 years of age on the eve of the masquerade," I answered with a shrug. "Far past maidenhood, in every sense of the word. I've accepted my fate. None will get their hands on my parents' business, or the fortune that comes with it, in order to fritter it away on rutting and gambling and any other frivolous fancy that comes into the minds of men. I will die a spinster first, completely in control of it all."
"And then who will you leave it to?"
"Charlotte's children," I said matter-of-factly, "if she has any. The library archives. The orphanage. The nuns. There are plenty of places it could be used to do good."
"You are an unusual woman," he said. "I don't think I've ever met one quite like you." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Would you mind if we spent more time together before the masquerade?"
I paused, pretending to think about it, when every thought in my addled mind screamed out, Yes!
"I believe that would be appropriate," I said. "My handmaiden returns." I pointed to Charlotte, loping across the grass, arm in arm with the cherub-faced boy. He had closely cropped hair, raven-black with a hint of a curl, a
nd delicate features that looked as though they had been dipped in bronze. There was a sweet softness about him; although he was certainly out of his teenage years, he appeared to be only just barely. "It looks as if she is getting along rather well with your valet."
Amir frowned slightly. "We'll have to keep an eye on them, won't we?" He bowed again. "It was a pleasure, milady."
"Good sir." I curtsied in return. And then he was gone, pulling the boy—Alfaro—away from Charlotte by the elbow and back across to the stables.
"He is handsome, isn't he?" Charlotte's face was bright with excitement.
"Your mouth was wide enough to catch flies."
"He only had eyes for you. Did you not notice Lady Elizabeth walk by while you were talking? Her décolletage is the stuff of legend, and he didn't even blink."
"I only had eyes for him." I swooned, grabbing Charlotte's fan. "Call the carriage. I must lie down immediately."
"Right away, milady. It is stifling, isn't it?" Charlotte went to fetch the wagon.
I watched as Sir Amir prepared for the next match. While his groom fed and watered the horse, he doused his own head in water, the liquid sluicing off his curls and down the chest plate of his armor. He shook the excess off before placing his helmet back on.
"Hot," I gulped, fanning myself. "Indeed."
*~*~*
A knock rapped on my door.
"Come in."
Charlotte entered, a dreamy smile on her face.
"It's early for you to be up, milady." She drew the curtains, letting in the pale morning light. "A good thing, though, because you have a visitor."
"A visitor?"
"Aye," she said, her father's Scottish brogue slipping through for just a moment. "Sir Amir is in the parlour."
I sat straight up in bed.
"What?"
She nodded. "And Alfaro, too." She began tugging on the bedsheets.
"That explains your smile." I hopped out of the bed as a flush spread across her cheeks. She began making the bed wordlessly, chewing on her lip. "Charlotte!" I said exasperatedly. "Curse that infernal habit. What did he say?"
"Well, he said that he loved meeting me at the joust, and that I'm the only thing he could think about over the last sennight because I'm the most beautiful girl he's ever see—" She cut herself off mid-sentence, smacking her palm against her forehead. "You meant Sir Amir, of course."
"No, I meant Alfaro, but if Amir said anything, I would be interested." I giggled as I went behind the screen to remove my nightgown and bathe in the basin, using the warm water that Charlotte had brought up from downstairs.
"Sir Amir said he would love to dine with us this morning."
"Did you tell Sophia?" Old enough to be my grandmother, yet spry as a girl Charlotte's age, Sophia had been running the kitchen since before I could remember.
"Yes. Sir Amir arrived so early that Sophia and I were sharing a morning bun at the kitchen table when he rang. As soon as she saw him, she rushed into the kitchen to whip up the best meal he'd ever had, or so she said." I pulled my new shift over my head then came out to see Charlotte standing with her arms outstretched, stays in hand. She swiftly laced me up and pulled my day dress over my head: it was a plain gown of sky-blue satin with a scooped neck.
"He'll love you in this." She winked, lightly tapping my modestly exposed upper chest.
"Charlotte!" It was my turn to blush. "One schoolgirl crush on a valet and now you're a mistress of seduction, eh?"
"There are all types of books in that library of yours, miss. Don't think I haven't noticed."
I could feel my blush deepen. "Well, I'll be heading downstairs then." My voice sounded strangely high-pitched to my own ears, and I could hear Charlotte's cackles of laughter following me down the hall.
The manor was a modest one, with a suite of four rooms on the second floor and three on the first. I took a deep breath before heading down the staircase, entering into the parlor with a smile on my face. Alfaro rose to his feet immediately, but I didn't see Amir.
"My Lady." Alfaro bowed.
"Hello, Alfaro." I dipped my head in return. "Where is Sir Amir?"
"I'm here."
I heard his voice before I saw him step out of a corner of the parlor that was shrouded in shadows. Gone was the heavy armor; today he wore dark green hose with a matching jacket and codpiece, and brown boots that showcased long, slender legs lined with taut muscles. Elaborate golden embroidery covered the jacket, which was made of rich, padded velvet, and his curls were tied back, leaving his glorious face on full display. He was still, by far, the best-looking man that I had ever seen.
"M-M-My Lord," I stammered, sweeping into a full curtsy. It felt as if the room was spinning. "Do you have plans after this? You are dressed so finely."
He looked down as if in surprise. "No, no plans, My Lady. I just… wore this for the meal." He flushed a little, and I got the sense that he was wondering if he'd overdressed.
How sweet, I thought.
Confirming my thoughts, he asked with a slight frown, "Is it too much?"
"No, no, sir," I said. "But I am plain in comparison." Looking at him, I wished that the pale blue day gown were more elaborate, or at least a rich shade of green so that we might match.
He gave me a wink. "Nothing about you is plain."
"Thank you, sir."
Alfaro's eyes bounced back and forth between us throughout the exchange, and he grinned before asking, "I'll be excusing myself, sir?"
"Will you not be joining us for breakfast?" I replied. "Charlotte will down shortly."
"Charlotte eats meals with you here?" Alfaro asked in surprise. "I mean, I know it's customary for a Lady-In-Waiting to accompany you in public, but she doesn't eat with the servants at home?"
"Alfaro!" Amir said sternly. "Have you no manners, that you would dare question a lady?" He cuffed him lightly on the ear, and Alfaro took a step back, his cheeks red with embarrassment.
"My apologies for speaking out of turn, my Lady. It is none of my concern how you choose to run your household. Forgive me."
"I accept your apology, although it is unnecessary." I waved my hand. "Our situation is rather unusual. Charlotte is really my Lady-In-Waiting in name only; she is more of a sister to me than anything else. And while we do have a small staff, they are paid handsomely and free to eat where they please." I shrugged. "We are all family in this house."
Alfaro's mouth dropped open at my explanation. I wrinkled my nose at him. "Decorum is overrated. Now if you would all please follow me."
Amir grinned and clapped a hand on Alfaro's shoulder, and they trailed behind me into the connected dining room. Charlotte had already arrived, dressed in a violet gown that perfectly offset the color of her red hair. She curtsied.
"My Lady, Sirs."
"Please sit next to Alfaro, Charlotte." I settled myself in my usual spot at the head of the table, but blocked her from sitting in the chair to my right. Alfaro had settled himself a few seats down on the left. "Sir Amir can sit here."
"Are you sure, milady?"
"Quite."
With a mile-wide smile, Charlotte took her place towards the end of the table. She and Alfaro immediately began chattering away.
"Those two remind me of a couple of magpies," Amir said, dropping into the chair next to me.
"They have hit it off rather well, haven't they?" I responded. "It's good to see Charlotte with someone her own age. She normally prefers my company alone."
Amir wordlessly raised one eyebrow.
"Oh!" I immediately surmised what he was thinking. "As I already said, she is like a sister to me."
"Forgive me," he said. "I was merely inquiring. I have heard that some women and their Ladies-in-Waiting get rather… close."
"Some do. And good for them." Another one of those indecipherable looks flitted across Amir's face, and I wondered what he was thinking.
"Good morning!" Sophia trilled as she entered the room carrying several steaming platters of foo
d. Her snow-white hair swept up into a bun and brown skin glowing, she beamed at Amir and Alfaro. "It's so wonderful having such handsome guests for breakfast."
I clutched my heart as though wounded. "Why, Sophia, do you not enjoy sharing morning meal with Charlotte and myself? And all this time I thought we had something special."
"You are a terrible girl to even insinuate that you aren't special. Isn't she, Lord Amir?" Placing the plates on the table, Sophia immediately began ladling food onto Amir's serving: fresh blackberries, warm bread, porridge, and cheese.
"Oh, it's just 'Sir,' Mum." He snagged a fat blackberry off the table and popped it into his mouth. "And if she's terrible, it's in the best possible way. She had the most… entertaining conversation with a fellow named Lord Dustin yesterday. I had to see what such a silver-tongued woman ate for breakfast."
"Don't blame my cooking for the mouth on that one. She's spoken her mind since she was twelve, and that's on her parents—they were lovely people," Sophia said. "Raised a smart girl."
"I'm sure you assisted."
Sophia clapped her hands in delight. "Miryam, I like him. Keep him around a bit, will you?" She let out a deep sigh, and then added, "She tends to chase the suitors away with a dagger."
"Sophia!" I was mortified.
"Enjoy your breakfast." And just like that, she was gone.
"A dagger?" Raising his spoon, Amir began to slowly eat his porridge. Sophia liked to sprinkle it with brown sugar, and he closed his eyes momentarily in delight. "I must hear this story."
Although he couldn't see me, I blushed. "She was joking."
"She most certainly was not," Charlotte called down the table. She broke a roll in half, steam rising from the interior, and placed a piece on Alfaro's plate before taking a bite of her own. "What was his name, milady? Sir… Orich?"
"Erich," I said drily. "And if you must know, Sir Amir, he cornered me in the stables for a kiss after an afternoon ride—what other choice did I have but to unsheathe my blade when he refused to take 'no' for an answer?" Grabbing a blackberry for myself, I dipped it into the bowl of cream Sophia had also placed on the table. "It's not my fault men insist on learning the hard way."
To the Victor Page 21
