She Owns the Knight (A Knight's Tale Book 1)

by Diane Darcy

  Kellen snorted impatiently. “I would give you a hundred bracelets if I but knew you desired such. There is no need to place yourself in danger for a trinket. You will never go there again, do you understand?”

  She let out a breath. Or maybe he’d dig in his heels instead.

  “I want that bracelet. It has special meaning to me.”

  “Why? Did a male give it to you? A sweetheart? Perhaps Sir Elton John?”

  “What?” She craned her neck to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “Think you I forgot thy affection when speaking of the musician? ’Tis a wonder your mother allowed such a man in your company.”

  She let out a breath, faced forward again, and shook her head. Incredible. Fighting over a fake bracelet and a faker boyfriend? Like she didn’t have real problems to solve? “Just so you know, my father gave me the bracelet, and Sir Elton John prefers men to women.”

  After a long moment, Kellen cleared his throat. “Ah, well then. Just so.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Back to the subject at hand. The cemetery? My bracelet? I need to go there. I need to look for it.”

  “If you insist on its return, I’ll send others.”

  “No. I want to go myself. I told you I like to go sightseeing.”

  “Sightseeing? As you did this day?” his voice roughened again.

  “Well . . . yes.” A quick glance showed that, yes, indeed, he was clenching his teeth. “Granted, today I saw more than I’d intended, but Scotland is pretty.”

  She felt him stiffen again and sighed. “Kellen, I’m not an idiot. I know today was bad and that people could have died.” Some of the tension eased out of her. “You know you’re my hero for saving me, right?” She turned and put her hand on his cheek and finally looked at him so he could see she meant it. “Thank you for coming to get me. I was so scared. I didn’t know if you knew where to find me, and I didn’t know if you’d come.”

  His jaw slowly relaxed as he searched her eyes. “Gillian,” his tone was less harsh, but still frustrated. “Perhaps the real reason you fled was because you are angry with me for accusing you of treachery. Truly do I beg thy pardon.”

  Gillian turned away again and bent her head so he couldn’t see her face and couldn’t see that she was still hurt by the accusation.

  “Why did you accuse me?” She rubbed at a stain on her brown skirt. “Because of your first wife? Because we have the same blood you think I’m tainted by association?”

  His grip tightened on her. “Nay. I truly do not believe such. My wits had gone begging in the heat of the moment. I know you to be steadfast and unlike your sister. In truth, I have no excuse and ask your forgiveness.”

  After a long pause, she finally let out a breath. “Okay, but I’m only going to say this once. I may not be perfect, but I’m no knife thrower, or poisoner, and I’m certainly not a murderer. I’m going to forgive you this one time, but I have no intention of paying for Catherine’s sins ever again. I have enough of my own to worry about.”

  He hugged her to him. “Nay, you are perfect. Thank you, Gillian. I do not deserve you.”

  “You’ve got that right.” She considered how he’d react when he discovered she wasn’t Edith, but a liar and a fraud. “I’m not perfect, you know.”

  He sighed. “’Tis true. I only said such to cool thy temper. You are overly stubborn, obsessive about the oddest concerns, and quick to cause inconvenience.”

  She elbowed him lightly in the gut and he laughed. “Thy father will no doubt arrive soon, as I sent men to Corbett Castle to find you. Shall I take him to task for all thy faults to spare you more chidings?”

  “What?” Gillian actually felt blood drain from her face, leaving her dizzy. She slowly straightened in Kellen’s arms and stared unseeing at the landscape. “My father is coming?”

  “Aye. Marissa said you had thought to go home. When I couldn’t find you, I immediately sent men toward your father’s keep. No doubt he will be worried to hear you’ve gone missing and come to help the search.”

  Gillian’s body stiffened further. No doubt the man would be surprised to find someone was impersonating his daughter and come to find out what was going on!

  Gillian’s heart pounded furiously in her chest. She no longer had the luxury of waiting to go home. She had to go now.

  “What ails you? Why do you tremble?”

  Gillian tried to force herself to relax. “When do you expect my father?”

  “’Tis about eight days’ fast travel there and back.”

  Eight days.

  “Are you fearful?” Kellen gave her a slight tug. “Lie back again and do not worry so. I’ll not allow thy father to scold you.” When she remained stiff, he sighed. “Peace?”

  She finally remembered to breathe. “Uh, yeah, sure.” She was a dead woman. She was so, so dead. Slowly she sank back against Kellen, glad for his warmth since she suddenly felt chilled. “Peace.”

  She had eight days before she had to be out of Medieval England. She slid her hand down Kellen’s arm until she found his hand at her waist and held it tight.

  He gripped hers in return and kissed the top of her head.

  She had eight days to get to that cemetery. Eight days to convince Kellen to go with her. Eight days until she was exposed as an imposter.

  Hours later as they passed the cemetery in the distance and stayed on a straight path to the castle, Gillian considered asking Kellen to turn. She might be able to talk him into taking her there if she insisted enough; after all, they’d have the protection of his men.

  Only two things stopped her. First, if something strange or unusual occurred, which it might, and she didn’t or couldn’t get back to her own time, the last thing she needed was a bunch of witnesses branding her a witch. Again. And second, if she could swing it, she was taking Kellen and his daughter back with her, which would require some extra thought and planning.

  Before long, they arrived at the castle and Kellen dismounted in the bailey, handed the reins to a waiting squire, then reached up and easily lifted Gillian off the horse. When she would have turned away, he cupped her cheek. “You’ve been quiet this day. Are you sad, then? Worried?”

  “Truthfully?” She looked around and feeling tired and vulnerable, told him the truth. “I just want to go home.”

  “You are home. I am your home.”

  Gillian bit her lip and couldn’t help it, she moved forward, wrapped her arms around his waist, and lay her head on his chest. She hoped he still felt that way when she took him back with her. “You have no idea how much I want that to be true,” she whispered.

  “Shh. Shh. You are not to worry. I will keep you safe.” His arms engulfed her for a long moment then he leaned back to regard her, expression serious.

  “Think you I know not where your true concerns lie? Come.” Kellen took her hand and tugged her to the middle of the bailey so she could see into the gate. “Look you there. See the extra men guarding the gate?” He pointed up. “The towers? I know you are concerned that whoever murdered Frederick will try for thy life once more. You need fear no longer. None will be allowed in or out without my express permission.”

  Her mouth parted as dread built in her chest. In or out?

  “There is more. Let me show you.” He tugged her toward the entrance of the keep and dragged her through to the kitchens, where Cook and her helpers prepared food.

  “Thy lady fears more poison. Can you not set her mind at ease?”

  Cook’s ample chest puffed up and she shook her head. “You’ve naught to fear, my lady. Any food you eat will have no chance at poison. None but myself will serve you, I can assure you of that.”

  “You see? I learn from my mistakes. A guard will be set at your door each night. My enemies will never again threaten what I prize most.” He cupped her face and looked as if he were making a vow.

  Gillian’s knees weakened. “Kellen—”

  In an abrupt move, he once more
grasped her hand and pulled her after him, rounded a corner, and pressed her into an alcove. “I want you to feel safe and happy here. I have decided I will court you, and then you will desire to stay with me always.”

  “Really,” she said weakly. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I assure you, what I want is you, relaxed and happy, looking forward to our wedding day.” He dipped his mouth toward her ear. “And night.” His lowered voice caused her to shiver, which made her mad. She didn’t have time for this right now. She gave him a shove and he backed up a step, his eyes questioning. “Gillian?”

  He just didn’t get it. He wanted her relaxed and happy? He wanted to court her? With Edith’s father, no doubt riding toward the castle to expose her as an imposter, with Kellen making sure she couldn’t slip out to the cemetery again, and with her uncertain of whether she could even return to the future, she was stressed to the max! And now he wanted to court her?

  She felt like smacking the seductive look right off his face. What she wanted was his assurance that when Edith showed up he wouldn’t like her better. A silly thing to worry about in light of everything else, but there it was.

  What she wanted was the assurance that he’d choose her, Gillian, over Edith if given the chance, even without a dowry, even without Lord Corbett as her father. What had he said the day she’d arrived? That he’d stick her in the dungeon or hang her as a spy if she didn’t turn out to be Edith?

  Gillian gave a slight laugh and a shake of her head. She had other things to worry about right now besides being courted.

  “Fine. Whatever. Give it your best shot, big guy.”

  In the meantime, she had some planning to do.

  As Gillian approached the long table the next morning, Kellen rubbed his sweaty palms against his tunic then fingered the pouch at his waist. It felt heavy but that was no doubt his imagination as the gold bracelet, set with pearls and sapphires, did not weigh much at all.

  He had retrieved it from the blacksmith early that morn. The man had worked the night through to craft the piece and, though not an artisan, he had done a credible job. The sapphires, shining brightly between the pearls, reminded Kellen of Gillian’s eyes. He also had gems he could gift her to decorate her gowns, or they could be made into jewelry if it so pleased her.

  He tried to decide whether to give them all to her at once or to keep some back so as to have more to offer later. The decision was easy. He’d spread them out and thus have more opportunities for gratitude coming his way.

  He stood as she neared, as did Tristan and Owen; but while the other men easily exchanged greetings with her, Kellen swallowed a few times and could feel sweat slicking his back. He could do this. He could court Gillian without mucking it up.

  Gillian stopped in front of him. “You’ve assigned guards to follow me?” He finally noted the scowl on her face as she threw both hands in the air. “Really, Kellen?”

  He took a breath. “’Tis for your safety. A good morn to you, my lady.”

  Gillian took a seat on the bench. “Good morning. All I’m saying is I just don’t think it’s necessary.”

  Kellen resumed his seat. “Regardless, you will humor me.”

  Cook brought food and, bushy brows drawn together over a red face, mumbled to herself, “I should like to see them try it again. Poisoning my food and killing my friends? Threatening my lord and lady thus? I will deliver it my own self and see if they dare such trickery again.” She left the food and a somber mood as she marched back to the kitchen.

  “I will try it first.” Kellen picked up a piece of bread and took a large bite.

  Gillian reached for a different slice. “Don’t think I don’t know why you’re so willing to put your life on the line. You just took the best piece.”

  When she winked at him, Kellen laughed and finally relaxed a bit. “You know me well, my lady.” He considered how to gift her the bracelet, how to charm her. He would chat with her, put her at ease, have more of her smiles, then give her the gift. “I trust you slept well?”

  Gillian didn’t answer, didn’t seem to hear, only stared across the table and over Tristan’s shoulder at the stone wall behind him.

  “Gillian?”

  Her head jerked and she looked down at the piece of bread in her hand as if surprised to see it. “Hmm?”

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “What? Oh, yes. Thank you.”

  “You look beautiful this day.”

  Her attention was caught by Marissa and her ladies joining them and he wasn’t sure if Gillian heard his compliment over their chatter. What he really needed was to get her alone and have all her attention to himself. “I would be most grateful if you could find the time to walk—”

  “Lady Gillian, you must tell us about Laird MacGregor,” Lady Yvonne interrupted. “Is he as fierce as they say?”

  Lady Vera seated herself and leaned forward. “Was he handsome?”

  Gillian shrugged. “He had hair all over his face, and he’s pretty wild looking; so it’s hard to say if he was handsome or not. He’s big and strong like Kellen, and I thought he was nice enough. We had a pleasant conversation in his tent, and he was a perfect gentleman the whole time I was there.”

  The two ladies exchanged a look and giggled.

  Kellen’s fists clenched and he snorted. “Would that I had killed him when I had the chance.”

  Gillian turned to see his expression, laughed, and touched his arm. “Are you jealous? That’s so sweet.”

  He shook his head and rolled his eyes. She found him sweet when he was not trying.

  “His men seemed a bit superstitious,” Gillian said. “They actually thought I was a witch.”

  “A witch?” Kellen thumped his fist on the table. “Would that I had killed them all when I had the chance.” As he’d hoped, Gillian laughed again and he reached for his pouch. With her laughing, cheerful, and looking at him thus, now would be the perfect opportunity to gift her the bracelet.

  “We buried Frederick yesterday,” Marissa said. “In a place of honor.”

  Kellen’s hand dropped away. Or not.

  Gillian’s brows furrowed. “In the cemetery up the hill?”

  Marissa nodded. “Aye.”

  “I’d like to go and pay my respects today,” Gillian said.

  Marissa waved a hand. “There is no need. My ladies and I stood for our family.”

  Gillian placed her hand on Kellen’s arm. “I insist. He died protecting us.”

  Kellen placed a hand over hers. “That he did. Do you really want to disrespect him by placing yourself in danger? When I have discovered the villain who is throwing knives and poison about, you shall have more freedom. You may pay your respects then.”

  “But—”

  “Frederick would be the first to agree.”

  Gillian searched his face, scowled, then shot a glare at Tristan and Owen, who murmured their agreement from across the table. She looked down at the trencher in front of her.

  “Come, Gillian. Let us have no hard feelings between us this day.”

  “You keep forgetting that I’m the one who owns you, not the other way around.”

  Amused by her crossness, by the reminder of the day they had met, Kellen smiled. “I wholeheartedly agree. I am yours.”

  Gillian looked at him, her eyelids fluttered, and she glanced away. “Then take me to the cemetery.”

  Kellen sighed. She was like a dog with a bone. “I will send villagers to look for the missing bracelet. If it is there, they will find it.”

  He’d thought to please her, but she continued to frown. He reached for his pouch, sure he had something to put a smile on her face.

  Tristan slapped the table. “I have no doubt ’tis the mangy, puking, Scots scum who are responsible for Frederick’s death.”

  “What think you, my lord?” asked Owen. “You spoke to their laird. Did you sense the Scots are behind the attacks?”

  All eyes turned to Kellen and, with a sigh, he dropped the brac
elet back into the pouch. Why could they not discuss such matters when Gillian was not about?

  “I cannot see them trying to slay Gillian. Kidnap her? Aye. Ransom her? Most assuredly. But poison? Murder? Nay. There is no point to it. But it would be easier were it the case, because the thought of one of my own doing the deed sits ill.”

  Everyone went silent, and Gillian placed her hand on Kellen’s arm and rubbed it for a moment. At her softening, he thought to get her alone, to give her the gift in private, and perhaps earn a kiss or two. “Would you care to take a turn about the orchard?”

  Sir Owen cleared his throat. “Do you forget we hunt this day?”

  Gillian looked to Sir Owen, then back. “You’re going hunting?”

  “Aye,” said Sir Tristan. “’Twill be great sport.”

  Kellen shot a glare in his direction. “We go because we need the meat, and to train the men. ’Tis of necessity, not for the sport of it.”

  Gillian’s brows drew together. “If you’re leaving anyway, why can’t you just drop me off at—”

  “You, however, are to stay here.”

  “So, you get to go out, but I don’t? That is so unfair! You were targeted for poison too, you know.”

  Kellen sighed. So much for any kisses coming his way. He shot Tristan a glare that promised retribution as he cast about for another subject. “No doubt you have much planning still to do for the wedding?”

  When her eyes narrowed, he stood. Forget trying for charm, at this point he would go for appeasement. With fumbling hands, he pulled out the bracelet and set it in front of Gillian on the table. “A betrothal gift for you.”

  It suddenly occurred to him he didn’t want her thinking it had been Catherine’s. “It did not belong to my first wife. I commissioned the blacksmith to create it especially for you. I chose the sapphires as they are the color of your eyes.”

  The ladies leaned forward for a better look, but Gillian just stared at it, her face expressionless. Kellen could feel himself start to sweat again. “Do you not like it?”