A Time for Love

by Lynn Kurland

  “Take me outside,” she said, without hesitation.

  He scowled. “Nay.”

  “To the chapel then.”

  “And if I say you nay, the fate of my soul hangs in the balance.”

  She waited, listened to his sighs, but remained unmoved by them. Finally he grumbled and rose. “Very well.”

  She felt a surge of victory. “I’ll fetch my cloak.”

  “You will not kneel at St. Christopher’s shrine today.”

  Perhaps she had no more need of prayers, now that Robin was returned safely. And she suspected her supplications hadn’t gone beyond the chapel ceiling anyway, for ’twas a certainty that her pleas for him to love only her had gone unanswered. She had no idea what jest her saint sought to work upon her, but she would have no more of it.

  No more of Robin’s kisses, either.

  She made that decision as Robin put her cloak around her shoulders. Aye, she would have no more of that and if he offered, she would refuse. Perhaps she would extend the courtesy to Nicholas again, should he be so inclined.

  Though she had to admit, and it galled her to do so, that Nicholas could not compare to Robin in that kissing business.

  Damn Robin anyway.

  She walked toward the door. Robin caught her by the arm before she managed it, and looked down at her gravely.

  “Forgive me,” he said.

  “For what this time, Robin?”

  He looked about him helplessly, as if he sought an answer lurking in the bed curtains, or perhaps lost behind a tapestry. That Robin of Artane was actually apologizing, albeit for nothing in particular, was something of great note. She began to wonder if that was what he had been thinking on the whole of the night. Perhaps she would do well to suggest he spend another night determining just what it was he’d done that merited such groveling.

  A contrite and supplicating Robin was an interesting thing to see indeed.

  “For many things,” he said at length.

  “When you can tell me what it is I should forgive you for, then I’ll think about it. Until then, walk me to the chapel.”

  He began to mutter under his breath, and she suspected his mutterings included several uncomplimentary things about her. She supposed, however, that if he couldn’t come up with anything decent to apologize for, he wouldn’t be equal to the task of spilling the contents of his heart.

  One thing was certain, he wasn’t concentrating on her. Anne watched him as he swept the great hall with his gaze as they entered it. The trip to the chapel was made with even more care. Whatever else his faults might have been, at least he was capable of keeping her safe. She was grateful for it.

  He led her into the chapel and sat down with her near the altar. Anne bowed her head and said her prayers.

  When she was finished, she looked next to her. Robin sat with his hands folded in his lap and his eyes closed. His long, dark lashes fanned over his cheeks, reminding her of how long she’d always thought his eyelashes to be in his youth. He had been such a beautiful boy. And he had become a beautiful man. He had every bit of Rhys’s handsomeness, along with a bit of ruggedness that was his alone.

  And she felt her traitorous heart begin to soften yet again. She could hardly believe he had been sitting so quietly for so long. In his youth, Robin had always given the impression of being headed in a dozen different directions at once, even while standing still. Nicholas could be lazy. Robin had never known how. Anne frowned. He drove himself too hard trying to ever prove himself worthy. Of what, she didn’t know. Had he no idea how very much Rhys loved him? Or Gwen? Anne could bring up hundreds of memories of Rhys bragging about his heir and what a fine man he had become. Robin likely wouldn’t have believed the words if he’d heard them. As far as he was concerned, he was still proving himself. In truth, all he was doing was exhausting himself. He’d proved himself years ago.

  Anne reached up and before she thought better of it, tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. Robin opened his eyes and slid a look her way.

  “Did you think me napping?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “I confess I did.”

  Robin reached for her hand and held it between both his own. “Nay, Anne. I’ve much to be grateful for. I was giving thanks and had only reached the middle of my list. I believe I stopped just after being grateful for Anne of Fenwyck’s beautiful green eyes and before her fiery spirit. Perhaps I will save the rest of your virtues for another time.”

  “Nay, finish. It won’t take long.”

  “’Tis fortunate for you that I know you are not in earnest. The saints only know how I might have to repay you for that slight to my lady.”

  His lady? She looked down at her hand between his work-roughened hands and shook her head. Ah, that she could actually believe his words. It would have been a sweet thing indeed.

  He squeezed her hand. “Let us go back. All this piousness has left me with a powerful hunger.”

  Anne let him pull her to her feet and followed him from the chapel. He kept his arm around her as they left the building and started across the courtyard. Anne tried to ignore the stares they received. Perhaps it wasn’t seemly . . .

  “Are you so ashamed of me then?”

  She looked up at him. “Of course not.”

  “Then why do you pull away?”

  “What will they think?”

  “They will realize I’m keeping you warm. And if they’re very quick, they’ll realize I’m being noble and chivalrous.”

  “Indeed.”

  He pursed his lips. “I am making an effort, Anne. Credit me with that.”

  “Is it so difficult, then?” she asked.

  “What? To walk with you so politely when the barbarian in me thinks it would be more to my taste to haul you into my arms and stalk off with you? Aye, ’tis very difficult.”

  “Kind of you, then, to make the effort.”

  He snorted as he drew her closer and led her up the stairs. Anne couldn’t stop a sigh of relief when the hall door was shut behind her. She hadn’t felt unsafe outside with Robin there beside her, but she couldn’t deny that knowing she was behind heavy doors was a reassuring feeling.

  Then she caught sight of Amanda standing before the hearth, tapping her foot purposefully, and wondered if she might not have been safer outside.

  Amanda pulled Anne away the moment they reached the fire.

  “Amanda,” Robin rumbled dangerously.

  “Go find my foster sister some wine,” Amanda threw at him. “She’s chilled.”

  Anne soon found herself sitting before a roaring fire and squirming under Amanda’s sharp glance.

  “Has he touched you?”

  “Amanda!”

  “Has he?” Amanda demanded. “By the saints, I’ll take my blade to him if he has.”

  “Amanda, he’s been perfectly—”

  “—chivalrous? I don’t believe that for a moment, sister. Robin isn’t capable of it. Now, you leave him to me. I’ll tell him just what will happen if he doesn’t comport himself properly.”

  “Amanda, I’m certain—”

  “Aye, I am too. I’ve lost count of the number of his bastards—”

  Anne gasped as Amanda was hauled up to her feet. All she saw then was Robin’s back as he dragged his sister away. Anne watched as Robin backed her up against the back wall of the hall. The sound of him slapping his palms against the stone echoed in the chamber. But she heard nothing after that. And when Robin and Amanda came back over to the fire, Amanda was wearing the expression she usually wore after Rhys had chastened her for something, Robin sat down in the chair opposite Anne and glared up at his sister.

  “You may pour us wine.”

  “I’m not pouring you anything, you arrogant cur—”

  Amanda shrieked as Robin jerked her over his knees. He held her there with two heavy forearms over her shoulders and lower back.

  “I fear I didn’t hear you,” he said pleasantly. “What was that?”

  “Miserable
whoreson!”

  Anne jumped as Robin gave his sister a healthy whack across her backside.

  “You were saying?” he said.

  “Damn you, Robin, let me up!”

  “That is my lord Artane to you, you disobedient shrew. Now, will you comport yourself as a lady, or do I beat decorum into you?”

  “You, my lord Artane, are a mannerless pig!”

  Anne hastily covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile.

  “Robin, release her!” Nicholas vaulted over the table and stood over his brother, bristling with anger.

  “I’m teaching her how to behave herself. Sit you down, lest you force me to teach you as well.”

  “You might try,” Nicholas scoffed.

  “Nicky,” Anne said warningly, catching a full view of the dangerous glitter in Robin’s eyes. “I daresay now is not the time to push him.”

  Nicholas leaned over the back of Anne’s chair. “Haven’t you kissed him today, Anne? Surely that would sweeten his mood.”

  “Cease,” Anne said, feeling herself beginning to blush uncomfortably. Never mind that she fully intended never to kiss Robin again. She had very vivid memories of past experiences with the like. “My lord Artane does not wish to be teased today.”

  “Then let us certainly honor his wishes,” Nicholas said, inclining his head. “Go ahead and beat the wench, Rob.”

  “Nicholas!” Amanda wailed. “Robin, release me.”

  “If you can behave, aye, I might.”

  “I won’t say another bloody word about your scores of bastards. Now, let me up!”

  Nicholas reached over and pulled Amanda away. “Saints, Amanda, use your wits! Does it not occur to you that Anne might not want to hear about that?”

  Anne waved away his words. “Nay, ’tis nothing.” By the saints, this was the last thing she wanted to discuss! A quick look at Robin’s face told her that he likely felt the same way.

  “It would certainly mean something to me,” Nicholas said. “Amanda, exert yourself to be less thoughtless in the future.”

  “If you two are finished babbling,” Robin growled, “you may go. And, Amanda, remember the feel of my hand on your backside. It will be there as often as is needed to teach you the manners Father never did.”

  “Ha,” Amanda said scornfully, but she kept herself well out of Robin’s reach. “Take me back upstairs, Nicholas. I fear what I might do if left here to retaliate.”

  Anne looked into the fire until she and Robin were alone. She couldn’t look at him.

  “Anne?”

  She continued to look at the flames. “Aye?”

  “I have something to apologize for.”

  “What?”

  He sighed. “My lack of discretion in the past.”

  “It matters not.”

  “I would hope it would. It would certainly matter to me. If you had taken a lover, don’t you think I would hunt him down and geld him?”

  She looked at him reluctantly and decided that, given the look in his eye, he might have. She pursed her lips. “And what am I to do with all your past lovers, my lord? Take blades to them?”

  “There are far fewer than I’m credited with and ’tis best if you forget them. I certainly have.”

  “Ah, but have they forgotten you?”

  He winced. “You say the damndest things, Anne.”

  She only looked at him.

  “All right, damn you,” he snapped. “I’m quite certain that whatever sorry nights I spent in anyone’s bed has completely escaped the poor wench’s memory. You’ve no need to fear anyone coming to regale you with tales of my prowess. Satisfied?”

  “And why would that bother me anyway?” she asked politely.

  His mouth worked silently for the space of several breaths, during which time Anne began to wonder if she had misjudged him. He was seemingly concerned that she not be assaulted by any of his former lovers, concerned that she believe their number to be fewer than he was credited with, and now he could not muster up a decent answer as to why it should trouble her.

  And, most notably, he had apologized. More than once.

  He spluttered a moment or two more, then cursed as he stood abruptly. “We shouldn’t be here. It isn’t safe. Come with me upstairs to Father’s solar. We’ll have supper.”

  Anne soon found her hand in his. More was the pity that she was starting to become accustomed to the like. She sighed and followed Robin up the stairs and down the passageway to Rhys’s solar.

  Supper arrived soon enough and with it Robin’s siblings. Anne sat silently during the meal, bemused by Robin’s apologies. She found herself watching him with new eyes. His grumbles, she noted, were directed at those who had somehow either touched his heart or awakened his ire. He was, to be sure, gruff and impossible, but she suspected that beneath those growls lay a great deal of love for his family.

  It was a highly enlightening meal.

  It was also a very typical one, except that Robin threw a bite of everything he planned to eat to the dogs first. Anne wasn’t allowed to eat until he’d tried it then on himself. Other than that, supper was a normal affair. Amanda and Robin bickered. Nicholas tried to keep the peace and finished off supper by challenging Robin to a wrestle. And for once in his life, Robin refused. Anne had never seen him do the like and she wondered what it could possibly mean.

  Robin excused them and led her to his sire’s bedchamber. He sat her in a chair and took the stool before her.

  “Comfortable?”

  When the alternative was the bed, aye, she was comfortable enough. And then the thought of the bed brought the thought of bedding to mind and Anne began to blush.

  “I never should have said aught about any of it,” he said, “but it was something to apologize for.”

  “So it was,” she agreed.

  He looked at her in silence for a moment, then rose and held out his hands. “Let me plait your hair for you, then I’ll put you to bed. Too much apologizing is exhausting. You’ll no doubt need your rest to listen for another round of it on the morrow.”

  “More apologies?” she asked with a smile. “How delightful.”

  He scowled at her as he lowered her to the stool. He sat behind her and began to brush her hair. Anne closed her eyes and savored it. He would have made a fine maid. He plaited her hair deftly, then sat back. Anne stood and turned to look down at him.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He nodded solemnly. “Off to bed with you, then. And don’t fret over me. I’ll be perfectly fine here in the chair or on the floor.”

  She pursed her lips. “You said you had no trouble sleeping on the floor.”

  “That was before I exerted myself brushing your hair.”

  “Then don’t sleep on the floor,” she said, then she bit her tongue. She should have been glad of his discomfort, but somehow she found she couldn’t be.

  He looked at her in surprise. “Truly?”

  “Well, you could sleep in your clothes,” she said pointedly.

  “Couldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Too uncomfortable.”

  “Robin—”

  “The bed is large and I give you my word of honor you will remain untouched.” He cleared his throat. “You needn’t strip, if you’d rather not.”

  Anne could hardly believe he wasn’t putting up a larger fight about sleeping next to her, but perhaps he was weary of the floor. She frowned at him.

  “Douse the candle and close your eyes. Far away from me, if you please.”

  He did so and Anne took off her gown while she had the chance. She crawled into bed in just her shift and prayed it was enough to protect her modesty.

  Anne listened as Robin’s clothes fell to the floor with soft thumps and she prayed he had clung to some sense of decorum and left something on. The bed creaked as he slid in from the opposite side. She took a deep breath.

  “Robin?”

  “Aye.”

  “Are you wearing anything?”

  “Naug
ht but my sweet smile.”

  “Robin . . .”

  “Your virtue is safe. I vow it.”

  “Oh, Robin—”

  “Hush, Anne. Go to sleep.”

  Well, she’d made the offer after all, and ’twas likely too late to toss him from her bed. She closed her eyes and prayed she hadn’t made a very large mistake.

  One thing was certain, she would not sleep at all.

  25

  A brisk knocking on the door roused Anne from a deep slumber. She pulled the bed curtain aside, but the chamber was still dark. It had to be surely the middle of the night. Why would someone be knocking in the middle of the night? Had war come to Artane?

  “By the saints,” she said, starting to get up. Then she realized several things almost at once.

  She was abed with Robin.

  She had apparently fallen asleep in spite of her fears she never would.

  And someone was at the door who would, unless she did something very quickly, enter and discover that she was abed with Robin and had fallen asleep where likely no maid with any virtue would have dared.

  She clutched the blanket to her chin. “Robin,” she whispered frantically. “Someone knocks!”

  “Tell ‘em to go away,” he mumbled, burying his head under a pillow.

  She jerked the blanket off him. “Go answer it, you fool!”

  He groaned and rolled from the bed. Anne heard the hiss of a candle being lit, then saw much more of Robin than she’d ever intended. Robin padded to the door, rubbing one eye sleepily with his hand. It was then that Anne realized she had never seen a naked man before. Boys, aye, but a man?

  Never.

  Especially one in that condition.

  She could only assume he was, well, not at rest as it were. But perhaps the condition came naturally to him, for he made no mention of it. Indeed, he seemed not to notice it.

  He grumbled as he pulled back the bolt and jerked open the door.

  “What?” he demanded.

  There were so many gasps, Anne hardly knew where to start in identifying them.

  First there was hers, when she watched Robin’s sire push his way inside the bedchamber, torch in hand.

  Then there was Robin’s, when he realized his father had come home, and at least a fortnight early at that.