A Time for Love

by Lynn Kurland

  And then, if that hadn’t been overwhelming enough by itself, he kissed her deeply.

  She lost all rational thought. All she could feel was Robin’s hand in her hair, his mouth on hers—

  She sincerely hoped his eyes were closed so he couldn’t see her blush. Her mouth had never been investigated by anyone besides the barber surgeon when once she’d had a sore tooth and he’d been peering inside, not using his—

  Robin kissed her mouth closed with a brief, hard kiss, then stepped back a pace. His chest was heaving. He looked flushed, which eased her mind greatly for she suspected that she looked the same.

  He said nothing. He merely held her by the arms and stared at her with an intensity that fair burned her to cinders where she stood.

  Then he blinked and cleared his throat.

  “Dinner,” he rasped.

  “Aye,” she managed.

  “’Twill grow cold, else.”

  “Likely,” she agreed.

  But she ached like she had never ached before with the desire to go back into his arms and never leave them. By the saints, having a taste of what it could be like to be encircled in his embrace was overwhelming.

  Never mind how it felt to be kissed by him.

  She suspected that she would never be the same.

  23

  Robin waited impatiently for his squire to see to his mail. He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his neck, trying to work the kinks out of it. Too many more nights spent either in the chair or on the floor would be his undoing. It was one thing to know that naught but the ground was available; ’twas a far different thing to be sleeping ten paces from a bed, and a comfortable one at that, and knowing that all that kept him from it was good manners.

  And it surely wasn’t as if he possessed those in abundance.

  Though after kissing Anne the night before, he was almost certain that lying abed with her would be a very bad idea indeed.

  “Be quick, Jason,” he whispered.

  Anne slept still and Robin wished for her to remain that way until he could make his escape. He wasn’t sure how she would view the events of the previous evening once she’d had a chance to digest them in her sleep.

  He knew how he felt, though. And not only had he stolen that first mind-numbing kiss, he’d bested her twice in chess, which had led to many other simple tastes of her sweet lips. He hadn’t dared kiss her again as he had at first. He was still reeling from it. And that was one of the reasons he had slept on the floor and not in her bed.

  He held up his arms while Jason helped him into his surcoat, then belted his sword about his waist. He felt his heart begin to soften toward his squire, who was always so diligent about caring for his gear. He supposed perhaps it was a menial task for the future baron of Ayre, but the saints only knew he’d done his share of menial tasks as a squire.

  Robin clapped Jason on the shoulder. “I’m in the mood for sport this morn, lad. Perhaps you’ll care to provide me with it.”

  “Me?” Jason said, his surprise poorly hidden.

  “Aye, you,” Robin said with a half smile. “You’re a fine enough swordsman. I should know, as I’m the one who has trained you.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  Robin paused. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Jason he was sorry for the terrible places he’d dragged him, all the battles, the endless sieges, the dangerous courts. It was a wonder Jason could still smile.

  “Have you had such a poor life, Jason?”

  Jason looked at him as if he’d never seen him before. “My lord, are you unwell?”

  Well, perhaps that was answer enough. Robin turned Jason toward the door and gave him a gentle push. “Fetch Miles and return. He’ll be capable of protecting Anne for a bit.”

  Jason trotted off dutifully. Robin sighed as he adjusted his sword at his side. Jason would leave soon enough to make his own way and Robin would be sorry for it. He was a good lad, likely all the better for not having grown to manhood at Ayre.

  Not that it was such a foul place. After all, Ayre was his, because of his sire. Robin had never had any desire to live there, or to be its lord in truth. Jason’s father, John, had been Alain of Ayre’s youngest brother and had willingly taken on the task of seeing to Ayre.

  John was a fine lord and Robin had never had any complaints about his care of the soil. Jason would likely make just as fine a lord when the time came. Robin smiled to himself. At least he knew if Jason displeased him, he could yet thrash the lad in the lists. It wasn’t such a poor way to settle a dispute.

  Robin looked at the bed. Anne slept still, surely. He hesitated, then moved to take hold of the bed curtains. Just a small peek to assure himself that she slept well. He couldn’t be faulted for that, could he? He pulled the curtain back and looked down at her, her face scarce revealed by the dim light in the chamber.

  She opened her eyes and he jumped in spite of himself.

  “I thought you slept still,” he managed.

  She shook her head.

  Robin forced himself not to shift uncomfortably. He’d kissed the woman before him senseless the night before and now he felt as callow as a young squire. Did she regret it? In how many ways had she found him lacking?

  “I need to train this morn, to clear my head.” To give you time to decide if you want me or not, he added silently.

  She nodded.

  “Miles will arrive presently.”

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded, then made his way out of the chamber before he did anything else foolish. He waited until his brother arrived, instructed him to stay out in the passageway until Anne had risen, then pushed Jason in front of him down to the great hall. Robin stopped for a cup of ale, grateful to be doing something besides sitting and stewing.

  “My lord?”

  Robin frowned at him, hoping to dissuade him from speaking.

  “My lord,” Jason said again, shifting uncomfortably, “ah, the lady Anne . . .”

  “What about her?” Robin demanded.

  Jason clasped his hands behind his back. “Ah,” he began, looking completely miserable, “about her virtue, my lord. I hesitate to speak of this . . .”

  Five years ago, Robin could have lifted Jason off the ground with one hand and held him suspended there while he shouted at him. Jason was now ten-and-six, and much heavier. And much braver, Robin thought grudgingly.

  “She’s a maid still,” Robin grumbled.

  “But, my lord, I know it has been many months since you have taken a woman—”

  “Enough,” Robin interrupted sharply. “It isn’t my habit to despoil virtuous maidens, and you know it well.”

  Jason nodded, miserably. “But, my lord, when Fenwyck learns . . .”

  “I’ll see to him when the time comes, if that time comes. What you don’t seem to understand, little lad, is that there is no safer place for her than my chamber with my sword before her. Unless you think you are more capable than I of protecting her?”

  “Of course not, my lord. You are a master.”

  Robin grunted and set his cup down. “We’ll go to the lists and I’ll prove it to you again.”

  Jason trailed behind him obediently. Robin rolled his eyes at the number of times Jason cleared his throat as they walked out through the inner bailey and out the gate to the lists. Finally, he could stand it no longer. He whirled around.

  “What?” he demanded.

  Jason bumped into him, then jumped back and made a small bow. “Nothing, my lord.”

  “Stop quivering. I’ve yet to lay a hand on you, you pampered puss.” It was true. He might have hardened his heart against others in his life, but he’d always harbored a soft spot for the young lad with bright blue eyes who had looked at him as if he could do no wrong. “Speak your mind freely, Jason. As I have the feeling you’ll do anyway,” he muttered.

  Jason wiped his hands on his thighs. “My lord, I know you and the lady Anne haven’t been close in years past—”

  Robin grunted.r />
  “But, well, have a care with her, won’t you?” Jason asked, looking up at Robin earnestly.

  “I gave you my word she would remain a maid.”

  “I speak of her heart, my lord,” Jason said quietly.

  Robin looked at his squire, seeing him in a different light. The lad was no longer a child, but a lad on the verge of manhood. Robin folded his arms over his chest and looked Jason over carefully.

  “What would you know of her heart? Or any woman’s heart, for that matter?”

  Jason reddened. “I am not ignorant of the ways of men and women, my lord.”

  “Of course you aren’t.”

  “I speak of matters of the heart, my lord, not of bedding.” He paused and took a deep breath. “She loves you, my lord.”

  Robin pursed his lips, “Of course she doesn’t. She wants a chivalrous lout with a sweet tongue and gentle manners.”

  Jason shook his head. “I must disagree. She may say that is what she wants, but her eyes tell a different story. She is quite easy to read if you look closely enough.”

  “And just what would you know of reading a woman, boy?”

  “I know how Isabelle looks at me,” Jason insisted. “And I know how I feel about her. ’Tis all in the eyes, my lord—”

  “Isabelle!” Robin gasped, finding his tongue. “My sister Isabelle?”

  Jason blushed to the roots of his hair. “A slip of the tongue, my lord.”

  Robin lunged and took Jason down to the dirt. “Isabelle,” he repeated, incredulous. “Jason, she’s a child!”

  “Old enough to be betrothed,” Jason insisted.

  Robin couldn’t decide if he were more shocked about Jason telling him that Anne loved him, or knowing the identity of the woman who held Jason’s heart. How had this come about? They hadn’t been home a month!

  “But you hardly know her!”

  “Ofttimes, it doesn’t take long,” Jason managed.

  “Does my father know?”

  “Saints, nay,” Jason said quickly, shaking his head. “He’d likely have me strung up if he did.”

  “Have you touched her?” Robin demanded.

  “I wouldn’t dare!”

  Robin grunted. “See that you don’t, or you’ll answer to me.” He rolled off his squire and heaved himself to his feet. “Daft, Jason. That’s what you are. She’ll give you gray hairs before you earn your spurs.” He hauled Jason to his feet.

  “Will Lord Rhys give her to me, think you?”

  “Why you’d want her is a mystery to me.”

  “She’s beautiful. And kind. And I want to be braver and more gallant when I’m with her. Isn’t that reason enough?”

  Robin shook his head. “I suppose so, lad.”

  Jason walked next to him with his head bowed. “Would you speak kindly of me to him if he asked you of me?”

  Robin took Jason by the back of the neck and shook him. “I’ll see how you show this morn, Jason, before I decide what I’ll tell your lady’s father about you.”

  Robin was surprised he hadn’t known about it sooner. Was he truly so unobservant, or was Jason better at hiding his feelings than Robin had given him credit for?

  Robin watched Jason critically in the lists. The lad had become a fine warrior in the past ten years. Robin even felt himself begin to smile as he marked Jason using some of Robin’s own techniques against him. Perhaps Isabelle could do worse than this lad.

  It was a goodly while later that Robin finally called peace and put his hand on Jason’s shoulder.

  “Well done, Ayre. Your father will be most pleased with you.”

  “And yours?” Jason smiled. “Will he be pleased also?”

  Robin frowned. “Little lad, you should rather be more concerned that I am pleased with you. My father is not your master, I am.”

  “My lord, I know you are pleased with me. And you do not hold my love’s fate in your hands. I daresay you likely feel the same about my lord Fenwyck.”

  “Be silent,” Robin hissed. “Think you I wish for everyone to hear your witless words? Moon all you like over my sister, but do not expect me to join you.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Jason said quickly. “I meant it only in jest.”

  “And Fenwyck’s opinion matters not to me,” Robin added with a growl. “I could best him on any field.”

  “Aye, you could.”

  Robin looked up as Nicholas approached, grinning lazily like the idiot he was. Robin scowled at his brother.

  “What do you want, dolt?”

  Nicholas put one hand on Jason’s shoulder and the other on Robin’s. “You two are as chatty as two ladies-in-waiting. Discussing your lady-loves?”

  Robin knocked his hand away. “We were discussing the best way to disembowel a grinning fool. Jason, perhaps you should test my theory on this fool here.”

  Nicholas only laughed and slung his arm around Jason’s shoulder. “It sounds as if he has a fine ease of it, doesn’t it, Jason?”

  “I couldn’t say, my lord,” Jason answered, yawning. “My lord Robin thinks a dagger vertically down the belly is most effective. What say you?”

  Nicholas grinned and winked at Robin. “You know, I think he kissed her last eve. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased by his attentions or so ill she was dazed. Perhaps you’ll come with me tonight and you can decide—”

  Robin sheathed his sword and shoved his brother. “She was not displeased!”

  Nicholas threw back his head and laughed heartily. “St. Michael’s bones, Rob, you are a besotted pup.”

  Robin drew his sword with a curse. Nicholas grabbed Jason by the shoulders and put him between them. “Now, now, brother. You wouldn’t want to disembowel your squire. Jason, what has put him in such a terrible temper? Could it be love?”

  “This isn’t amusing anymore,” Robin snarled. “Release the boy and face me like a man, if you’re capable of it. Or have too many evenings spent honing your skill with the lute left you unable to put your fingers to the hilt of your blade?”

  Nicholas had shoved Jason aside and drawn his own sword before Robin could blink. Robin countered his brother’s parries with thrusts of his own, ones that should have silenced Nicholas permanently, or at least warned him he was close to being so silenced. Nicholas wasn’t paying Robin’s warnings any heed, if his attack were any indication. In the back of his mind, Robin was vaguely impressed with his brother’s detachment and precision. But he didn’t spare it much thought. His mind was on fire and he went with the heat, not caring if he cut his sibling to ribbons before he came to himself.

  It wasn’t how he usually fought. He knew he had a warriorly reputation for recklessness, just as Nicholas did for being cold and methodical. But even in the heat of battle, while the blood was thundering in his ears and his fury was all-consuming, Robin never released that small part of his mind that was perfectly calm, perfectly rational, perfectly sane. It was the logic that controlled his strategy.

  He couldn’t find that calmness at present. He was embarrassed. He’d known Nicholas would make sport of him, but to keep harping, to speak loudly enough that others could hear—that he hadn’t expected even from his hopelessly romantic sibling. Damn him, he should have had more respect! Whatever intimacies Robin shared with Anne were not fodder for conversation in the lists.

  Not that he’d share them again. Bloody hell, if this was what kissing her earned him, he’d never come within two feet of her again!

  “Robin!”

  He heard Nicholas’s warning shout and jerked back the moment before Nicholas’s blade would have gone through his arm. As it was, there was a fine rent in his tunic sleeve.

  “By the saints, Rob, what were you thinking about?” Nicholas exclaimed, dropping his sword and coming toward him. “I almost cut your head off.”

  Robin had no good answer for that. “Jason, come with me,” he said, shrugging off Nicholas’s hand. “Nick, see that the men attend to their work. This is not a day of leisure.”

 
; “And you will be?” Nicholas asked.

  “Making certain that all is well inside,” Robin said. He strode through the lists, wanting nothing more than to escape notice until he could regain his composure.

  “Artane, a moment!”

  Robin saw Baldwin coming toward him with a purposeful glint in his eye. He cursed and waved the man away. He had no time for him this day.

  “Stop,” Baldwin exclaimed. “Stand and face me!”

  Robin paused and glared at him. “For what purpose? To best you again? Was last time not sufficient?”

  Baldwin drew his sword with a flourish and a curse. Robin muttered under his breath and drew his own blade. Perfect. Could his day deteriorate any more than this?

  He set his squire out of harm’s way and drew his own blade the moment before Baldwin’s reached him. He might have been distracted with Nicholas, but he suffered no such affliction now. Baldwin was furious and Robin supposed he couldn’t blame the man. After all, he had humiliated his cousin badly on their first and only encounter. Perhaps Baldwin had listened to the recent laughter of Robin’s family over and over again in his head until his temper was past being controlled. Robin smiled pleasantly as he easily deflected Baldwin’s paltry attack. Perhaps all those years spent warring had been a benefit after all. He’d faced much worse than this and lived.

  “I’ll kill you,” Baldwin snarled.

  “You continue to say as much,” Robin answered, “yet I live still. How is this possible?”

  “I haven’t,” Baldwin said, grunting with exertion, “begun my labors in truth.”

  “Haven’t you?” Robin asked. “Please alert me when that day comes. I’ll want to be ready.”

  Baldwin only snarled a curse in answer. Robin watched him as they fought and a thought occurred to him. Was it possible Baldwin was behind the attacks on Anne? No sense in not finding out.

  “Are you coward enough to attack a woman?” Robin asked suddenly.