Margo Maguire

by The Virtuous Knight

  “When will the other nuns arrive at Holywake?”

  “Let me think,” Lucy said. So much had happened since the attack, it seemed impossible that it had occurred only yesterday. “Mother Superior and the rest of the nuns won’t leave Craghaven for at least a fortnight. We were to have plenty of time to make the abbey ready.”

  “And no one is there now?” he asked.

  Lucy turned to look at him. “No. Why?”

  He did not answer right away, and she had a moment to admire his green eyes while he kept his gaze upon the terrain before them. His lashes were thick and dark, and there were faint lines of pale skin emanating from the corners of his eyes.

  “I thought mayhap ’twould provide us shelter for a day or two while the black knights—”

  “Sir Alexander?” she said, looking past him now.

  His eyes met hers then and Lucy knew he looked at her only because he heard an urgency in her voice.

  “They’re on the road.”

  She did not need to say any more. The knight quickly turned the horse and rode into the deep shadows of the woods, finding a spot where ’twas not likely they’d be seen from the road. They sat quietly and waited, watching as the black knights rode slowly in front of them. Lucy was certain that she and Sir Alex had retreated before the men had a chance to see them. Still, she sat quietly, without moving a muscle.

  Even if her knight-rescuer had not pulled her back to his chest and held her close, she would have known she needed to remain still. With Alex’s strong arms around her and his warm breath disturbing the hair across the top of her head, Lucy did not feel as frightened as she should.

  She shivered once and his arms tightened around her.

  The black riders were in no hurry. Lucy and Alex watched as the men meandered closer, talking quietly among themselves. She had trouble hearing exactly what was being said, but their words were issued without humor or amusement. The men were dead serious and their intensity did not bode well for her and Sir Alexander.

  Eventually, the black knights rode past, and Alex dismounted, helping Lucy down after him.

  “I’m hungry,” he said, as if he had no care in the world. He pulled a leather satchel off his horse.

  “Sir Alexander, shouldn’t we go deeper into the woods?” Lucy asked, glancing warily in the direction the knights had gone. “What if those men come back?”

  “They’re going to York,” the knight replied.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I heard them,” he replied as he pulled bread and cheese from the pack. He tore a piece of bread from the loaf and handed it to her. “They figure we got ahead of them somehow and rode into York. They’ll follow and see if they can locate us.”

  “They are quite determined to catch up to you,” she said, marveling that he’d been able to discern their words. “Are you certain they only want to avenge some minor trouble you gave them?”

  Alex shrugged and handed her a piece of cheese, and Lucy knew she would not get more information out of him this way. She took the food he offered and ate her fill, then drank from the waterskin while she considered what to do.

  She supposed it was safe—at least for her—to go into York, because the black knights had never really seen her. Nor were they after her. Clearly ’twas Sir Alex that interested them, though she did not understand why.

  His plan to go to Holywake was a sound one. With luck, they could travel to the new abbey and arrive without notice. Lucy had no intention of staying there, but would make an assessment of the work that needed to be done and hire men to do it.

  Then she would go to York and make her way in The World. She was five and twenty and as capable as any woman her age. Surely it would not be too difficult to find employment.

  “You say we follow this road to Holywake?” Sir Alex asked.

  Lucy nodded. “I’m not sure of the distance, but when we set out yesterday morn, Sister Avice told us we would spend another two nights before reaching the abbey.”

  Sir Alexander narrowed his eyes. “Two nights if you’d covered a significant number of miles.” He was clearly dissatisfied with the notion of spending the next two days with her. And his reaction angered her.

  She had asked him for naught. She’d been cooperative, and had even warned him of danger—on more than one occasion. She did not believe she’d been any trouble at all, yet the knight clearly disliked her. Swallowing the hurt caused by his unwarranted enmity, Lucy turned away to gaze at the road visible through the trees.

  She decided to follow her earlier plan, when she believed he’d left her. Since the black knights had ridden ahead, travel by road would be safe enough, and ’twas possible that she would meet and join other friendly travelers on their way to York. She had no need of this taciturn, bad-tempered knight-monk.

  “Now that the knights are gone,” she said, facing Sir Alex once again, “I’ll bid you adieu. Thank you for your assistance, and the loan of your blanket.” She gave a slight bow and turned, walking away from him, keeping her temper under tight control. ’Twould serve no purpose to call him an ill-mannered block-head to his face, even if that was what she wanted to do.

  The abbess would be proud of her disciplined tongue.

  Lucy found it somewhat awkward to walk over the uneven ground of the forest, but she felt Sir Alexander’s eyes boring into her back, so she forced herself to minimize her limp. She did not want him coming after her for any reason—but especially not for pity’s sake.

  The distance to the road was farther than she had judged it, but she made it there without incident, and without Sir Alexander. She turned to walk upon the road, which was a good deal smoother than the forest floor had been, and began working her way north.

  ’Twas ridiculous to feel guilty.

  The little nun would manage. There were plenty of others in this world who were much less fortunate than she. By the grace of God, her life had been spared, when all in her party had perished. Surely the Lord would protect her now.

  Alex turned away when she stumbled, afraid that he might jump to her assistance in spite of himself. Taking more care than was necessary, he tied his food satchel to his saddle and led Rusa farther away from the road, toward the stream.

  There was no hurry now. Alex could take his time watering his horse before he set out for Eryngton. With Skelton’s knights safely on their way to seek him out in York, there was no reason to delay his mission.

  He looked back through the trees toward Lucy, and saw that she had just reached the road. And her shoulder was bleeding again.

  Her small wound did not concern him. ’Twould stop bleeding soon and heal well enough without his assistance.

  Alex knelt to refill his waterskin. He was anxious to complete his task and return to Cluny, though he might make a visit to his brother’s estate before he returned to France. After all, it had been nearly three years since he’d seen Clyfton Castle. He wondered if it had changed, and how Philip and his family fared. Last Alex knew, Philip’s wife, Lady Beatrice, had borne him four daughters.

  He forced his thoughts from his own manor house on the Clyfton estate, the home where he and Isabella had lived with their son. Nay, if he visited Clyfton at all, he would be sure to avoid that sad house that overlooked the sea.

  Sensing movement across the stream, Alex looked up into the eyes of a young doe, who had come down for a drink. She showed no fear, but stared at Alex with a mixture of curiosity and wariness…

  Just like Lucy.

  The doe finished her drink, and when she lifted her head, she perked her ears and stood perfectly still, listening to the silence of the forest. In another instant, she turned and sprinted away, limping noticeably. One of its hind legs was malformed. Alex stood abruptly and mounted his horse. Disconcerted, he rode Rusa deeper into the woods, far from the direction of the road.

  ’Twas more prudent for him to stay out of sight, and away from Lucy. She seemed to know where she was going, and would make it there in due time�
�if Skelton’s men did not circle back and find her alone.

  Alex refused to entertain the thought of anything else happening to her, but considered his own plans. Once he left Roger’s scabbard with the earl of Eryngton, he would travel to Clyfton and visit with Philip and his family before returning to France, for ’twas unlikely he would ever return to England once he took his vows.

  That thought gave him pause. For the first time, he reflected on what it would mean to go away from home forever. To look, for one last time, upon the ground he’d trodden as a lad. To bid farewell to Philip, once and for all.

  He shoved his fingers through his hair and looked up. Somehow, he’d returned to the road, but Lucy was nowhere in sight. “Agnus Dei, miserére nobis,” he prayed, searching for signs of her. Surely trouble hadn’t found her so quickly.

  Alex dismounted. Taking the mare’s reins in one hand, he drew his sword and proceeded slowly, cautiously. He’d not heard any disturbance, but he’d been distracted by his own thoughts and hadn’t even realized he’d come back to the place where he’d left her. ’Twas possible he would not have heard anything.

  He turned his head and peered into the dark forest on both sides of the road, and traveled some distance before he saw her, sitting in the shadows on a fallen log. She’d pulled her skirts up, and was examining a scrape on her knee when she saw him.

  Though she quickly shoved her kirtle back into place, ’twas not before he’d seen much more than he should have.

  “Sir Alexander!” she cried, awkwardly rising to her feet. She lost her balance and would have fallen backward, but Alex caught her hand and righted her.

  Her fair skin flushed with color, and she was more flustered than he’d ever seen her.

  “You’ve hurt yourself,” he said.

  “’Tis naught,” she replied, removing her hand from his grasp. “A slight scrape is all.”

  “Nay…your shoulder,” he said.

  She lifted her hair away and turned to look at the stained area below her shoulder. Her lashes were long, golden crescents upon her cheeks. As was her habit, her straight, white teeth bit into her lower lip while she strained to see behind her.

  “I’m certain it’s all right, Sir Alex. I’ll just be on my—”

  “You’ll come with me,” he said. “But I’ll tend to your wound first.”

  A fleeting frown crossed her brow and she gave a slight shake of her head. “I have no wish to be a…a burden to you, Sir Knight. I will manage on my own.”

  “And fall again?”

  Her lower lip trembled slightly, and she bit it again to gain control over it. Her reaction to his cruel words made him feel like a churlish beast. She had done naught to raise his ire, and he knew he ought to treat her more civilly.

  He took her arm, only to have her shake it off.

  “Go on your way, Sir Alex,” she said, swallowing thickly. “You have been m-more than kind and I release you from any—”

  “Sit down, Sister Lucy,” he ordered, his voice sounding harsh, even to his own ears. “Please.”

  The woman sat back down on the log and crossed her arms over her chest. Alex pulled his saddle packs to the ground in front of her and located his jar of Persian ointment. Still crouched, he lifted her skirt to her knee.

  She gasped and tried to pull away, but Alex circled her ankle with his fingers and held her fast. “This one first.”

  “Sir Ale—”

  She hissed when he spread a thick coating of ointment on the scrape on her knee, but did not try to pull away again.

  To Alex’s eye, naught was wrong with either of her legs. They were both smooth and soft as a woman’s legs should be. “Uni trinoque Domino,” he prayed. “Sit sempiterna gloria. Qui vitam sine termino. Nobis donet in patria.”

  A moment later, he had the knee bandaged and his wayward thoughts under control once again.

  “Will you open your laces or shall I?”

  She turned away to protect her modesty as she loosened her bodice and let it slide off her shoulders. The bandage he’d fashioned the night before was saturated with blood, and it slipped off when she lowered her kirtle to expose the wound to his eyes.

  “Your fall opened your shoulder wound,” he said, then realized she must have scraped her hands as well as her knee. He turned her in order to examine them, and forced his attention to remain upon her injured hands, and not upon the feminine flesh that rose enticingly above her lowered bodice.

  But time seemed to stop. His gaze was drawn to her throat when she swallowed. When his eyes dipped lower, he saw a tiny mole lying nearly hidden within the deep cleft between her breasts. Her hands, still resting in his, trembled slightly.

  Alex’s mouth went dry. The desire to taste the small brown spot was nearly overpowering, but he tore his eyes away and released her hands. He barely refrained from making the sign of the cross before he turned her, though he did utter a silent prayer for strength. He had disciplined such carnal needs from his body, his soul. He was capable of rising above these base desires.

  Still, his body reacted in a way that had become entirely foreign to him. He could not remember the last time he’d experienced such raw lust.

  He wiped the fresh blood from her shoulder and applied ointment to the wound. Lucy tipped her head to one side, pulling her silken hair away from the gouge in her shoulder. In spite of himself, his eyes wandered, and so did his mind.

  He caught himself imagining how her soft skin would feel against his roughened hands, and whether she would tremble if he touched his lips to the enticing bend between her neck and shoulder. Remembering the crease that often formed between her brows, he considered how ’twould feel to soothe it away with a kiss.

  Alex clenched his jaw tightly and closed his eyes. “Ostende nobis, Domine, misericordiam tuam,” he said in an inaudible whisper. Surely God would show his mercy and remove these tempting thoughts from his mind.

  He tore a length of cloth and placed it over the wound, then pulled the stained kirtle over it. Abruptly, he stood and strode away. And he did not look back.

  With shaky fingers, Lucy fastened her clothes.

  Though he’d made it clear that he could barely tolerate her presence, something had come to pass between them just now. She frowned with the effort to understand what had happened.

  Lady Elsbeth had told her and some of the other novices about kissing. But the idea of touching mouths with a man was embarrassing and distasteful, even though Elsbeth had highly extolled the practice.

  Yet Lucy had felt absurdly drawn to Sir Alex just now, hungry for more than the casual touch of his ministrations. Had she desired his kiss?

  She felt her face heat when the answer became clear. To her shame, Lucy had desired more than a kiss. She had enjoyed the admiring gaze of his eyes, and would have welcomed a caress. She could not help but remember how it had felt to have Sir Alex’s arms ’round her, to have the heat of his powerful body wrapped around hers.

  Straightening her kirtle, Lucy walked to the place where the knight had tethered his horse. Unmindful of her approach, Sir Alex ran his hands over the mare’s flanks and spoke quietly to her while Lucy watched with fascination. His hands were so much larger than her own. They were hard and strong, yet easy with the mare, and gentle when he’d tended Lucy’s wound.

  She had planned to travel to Holywake alone, on foot, because ’twas clear he did not want to accompany her. But something had changed.

  And Lucy intended to find out what the change meant.

  Chapter Six

  Alex knew he was out of his mind when he lifted Lucy into his saddle and mounted behind her. Hours in close proximity with her was the last thing he needed. He should have let her continue alone on the road to Holywake.

  “This is the wrong way, Sir Alexander,” she said.

  He did not reply, but kept going in the opposite direction of their respective destinations.

  “We’re headed south, as you can see,” she continued, turning to look at him wit
h puzzlement upon her face.

  “With the black knights gone,” he said, “it might be possible to retrieve some of your belongings from the place where you were attacked.”

  “Oh, I had not thought of that. Haven’t we gone too far to go back?”

  “No.”

  She remained silent until they reached the site, then slid off Rusa with his assistance, and went to the grave where the nuns were buried. Alex left her to search for anything of value in the broken boxes. The food the nuns had carried had been spoiled by small animals, but he found several articles of clothes and a few blankets scattered among the ruins. He gathered whatever might be useful, and stuffed it into his packs.

  When he was ready to go, he glanced at the grave site and saw Lucy struggling to stand. She wiped a tear from her face and turned away from him, as if she did not want him to know how she grieved for her sisters.

  He came up behind her.

  “Sister Avice was just about to stop the wagon,” she said, sniffling once, “so that we could say our morning prayers. Then the arrows c-came.”

  Her voice started to wobble at the last few words, and Alex fought a reckless urge to pull her into his embrace. He had seen grown men break down after such an attack, but Lucy held on to her composure, as if she could not bear to have him see her tears.

  “One pierced Sister G-Gunnora…through the throat….” Her voice was unsteady. “There was so much b-blood. The horses w-went wild then….”

  Alex walked around to face her. She did not look up, but closed her arms around herself, as if to contain the horror she’d experienced. A tear fell when she blinked, following the tracks of the others she’d shed.

  “Lady Elsbeth…she rode b-beside us… S-she…she was not to have come w-with us…but the abbess…she…”

  Her voice broke and she closed one hand over her mouth. Alex pulled her into his arms and she wept.

  “Do you smell food cooking?” Lucy asked.

  He did.

  They had covered a good many miles and the smell of a campfire and cooking meat was clear. So were the sounds of music and voices.