A Knight With Grace: Book 1 of the Assassin Knights Series

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “Ya still got your lands! So the king must not be mad at ya!”

  “A lot of good it will do me in Hell.”

  “Pray ta God. That’s what I do when I did something bad. He always forgives me. He’ll forgive ya too!”

  “Thank you, Luke. I will try that. Maybe someday I will be forgiven.”

  Grace knocked softly on the door, hating to disturb the conversation. William opened it. Grace was unprepared for the sight that greeted her. He had cleaned up. He wore black boots and leggings that fit his muscular legs tightly. His white tunic was open at the neck, giving a glimpse of his strong chest. He wore his sword belted around his waist. His dark hair hung in waves to his shoulders. His blue eyes fixed on her with appreciation.

  Realizing her mouth was open, she closed it and swallowed in a dry throat, all words lost. She couldn’t remember what she was going to say. Her heart did a strange little flip in her chest.

  He bowed slightly. “Lady Grace.” His hand rested lightly on a boy’s shoulder beside him.

  Instinctively, Grace curtsied. “Sir William.” Her knees almost weakened enough where she couldn’t stand, but she managed to rise.

  “Yer right,” the boy said in awe. “She is beautiful.”

  Grace glanced at the boy, who was maybe seven summers in age, at the dark hair hanging in his eyes, and then back at William. Shock flooded through her. Had he said she was beautiful?

  William took her hand and looked at the boy. “May I present the Lady Grace. This is Luke.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Luke.”

  Luke nodded, brushing his brown hair from his eyes. He looked back at William. “Remember, you promised.”

  William grinned and nodded agreement. “I remember. Go on, now. Make sure my dinner is ready.”

  Luke raced off down the hallway.

  “I’m intrigued. What did you promise him?”

  “That he could be my squire.”

  “Squire? He needs to be a page first!”

  “Aye.”

  Grace looked at William. “You won’t let him be your squire.”

  “I have no need of a squire.” He opened the door to allow her entrance to his room. “Shouldn’t you be in the Great Hall dining with Emily?”

  “I’ve come to ask you to join us.”

  William’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Didn’t she tell--” His words trailed off and he shook his head. Then he scowled. “It would be better if you ate with me in my room.”

  Grace folded her hands before her and looked down thoughtfully for a long moment. When she looked up at him, warmth flooded through her cheeks. “Emily would be very disappointed.”

  “I do not dine in the Great Hall. You are most welcome to eat here with me.”

  “Why don’t you eat in the Great Hall?” Grace wondered. “Is it because people can be cruel?”

  William hesitated. “There are worse fates than being ridiculed.” He looked into the room and then back at her. “Emily put you up to this, didn’t she?”

  “She suggested it.”

  William shook his head. “Grace... People... Knights don’t always...” He took a deep breath. And then nodded reluctantly. “For you, m’lady.”

  William held Grace’s hand as they entered the Great Hall for the evening meal. The room was not as big as the Great Hall in Willoughby Castle, but it still rose two stories above his head with beams criss-crossing high above. The clang of mugs and murmured talking filled the room. The tables lining the expanse were filled. William despised crowds. And this was no exception. He knew how they saw him, as a murderer, cursed, excommunicated. He didn’t blame them. If it were just him, he wouldn’t care. But Grace would see it now, see how flawed and horrible a man he was. She had asked him to accompany her. Was this what she wanted? Did she want to see him ridiculed? He glanced at her. She was stunning with her hair up, her neck flawless, her smooth skin magnificent. Her lips... How could he resist anything she requested?

  The Great Hall was crowded, more so than usual, William guessed. They all wanted to see the man who killed Archbishop Becket. He was used to the stares. He was used to the hisses. He was used to the name calling. He could ignore them all. But he didn’t want Grace subjected to them. He had informed steward Thomas as much, but he knew there was little the man could do about it.

  He looked at Grace. She walked beside him up the main aisle, unaware of what the people around them were thinking. And maybe it was because of her they made it to the front table without incident. William took a seat beside Grace at the head table. He was glad she was there. She brought an unexpected light to his darkness, a joy to his worthless life. He could simply look at her all day. Her beauty outshone the bleakness. He was not worthy of her.

  Emily sat at William’s side, barely containing her delight. She leaned toward them. “I’m glad Lady Grace convinced you to come to the evening meal.”

  William grimaced. This was just the beginning of Emily’s interference. William ignored her to cast his gaze over the crowd, assessing any threats. Many met his stare with open hostility. As dinner progressed, his attention became more and more focused on Grace. She talked and laughed with the man beside her, a young knight who reminded him of Curtis, charming him with her beauty. William was entranced by the way her lips moved, forming words. He remembered their softness beneath his, their pliancy, their gentle stroke. When the young man laughed and lay his hand over Grace’s hand, rage ignited inside of William. He leaned toward them. “The lady is betrothed. You’d best remember that.”

  The young knight’s eyes widened and he quickly removed his hand. Then he excused himself and left the room.

  William’s gaze followed him the entire way. Anger brewed inside of him, scorching reason, singeing the edges of his self-control.

  “He was only telling me a story of when you were young,” Grace said softly.

  “He never knew me. It was all made up. You should learn to tell a lie from the truth.” His words were harsh, and after he uttered them, he regretted them. He couldn’t explain it. The anger and rage he thought he mastered had surfaced instantly. And over something that should not have bothered him. A simple touch. A possessive touch. Fury clawed up from that black cavern inside of him.

  “Or maybe it was a story he heard and you are being irrational,” Grace answered, her brows furrowing. She turned away from him and took a sip of her ale.

  Yes. He was being irrational. That was it. Still, it took all of his will to banish the vehemence.

  A knight at the far end of the table nearest them with a short beard suddenly rose violently, shoving his chair back with enough force that it crashed to the floor. “I shall not dine with a murderer.” He spat on the floor.

  William straightened at the insult. That was what he was used to and why he dined in his room, alone. How could he hold the knight to blame when what he proclaimed was the truth? It mattered not what the knight said, what any knight said. Only that he kept Grace safe.

  Sporadic knights followed the short bearded knight’s lead, heading down the aisle of the Great Hall.

  Grace glanced at William.

  He felt her eyes on him, but could not look at her for the embarrassment he felt. They were leaving because of him. Because of what he had done. Now she knew. He couldn’t protect her from the scorn of others.

  Suddenly, she stood and called out, “Halt you knights! What sort of impertinence is this? You will not dine at Sir William’s table and yet you will work in his lands?”

  “We work for his brother, Lord Ralph,” one of the knights answered.

  “And Sir William holds these lands for his brother. So, you answer to him as your lord.”

  “He murdered Archbishop Becket!” the knight with the short beard shouted. “I answer to no man who kills a man of the cloth!”

  “Then you’d best find other work.” A scattering of unease trickled through the hall like a gently swaying field of wheat. “Sir William is lord of these lands until his brother
returns. Any man who doubts that or will not eat at his table has no place on his lands. Make your choice.”

  The knights glanced at one another; the whispering and low speaking grew louder in the hall.

  William couldn’t take his eyes from Grace. She was magnificent. Strong, commanding. It was what he should have done instead of hiding behind his past actions. Instead of cowering. He was a knight! But he had no wish for confrontation or to cross swords with another knight. So, he took the biting lash of their tongues in silence. Emily placed a hand on his arm. When he glanced at her, he saw surprise in her open mouth and raised eyebrows. She looked at William and a grin of enjoyment slowly stretched her lips and admiration shone in her eyes.

  Finally, two of the knights returned to their seats. The short bearded knight left the room.

  Grace lifted her chin and took her seat again.

  William was stunned and humbled. She had defended him! He, a man who was not worthy of defending. She had done what he could not. She had faced the hypocritical knights and come out golden. He placed his hand over hers. “Thank you, Lady Grace.”

  She smiled demurely at him.

  His heart pounded in his chest, his loins tightened. Lord, she was beautiful. And intelligent. How was he going to give her up?

  CHAPTER 14

  When the meal was over, an energetic and a little too excited Emily led William and Grace down the corridor. “...roses and the cook has a small herb garden. She’s teaching me how to plant. Because, as William knows, nothing I’ve planted has ever survived.”

  William didn’t have the heart to tell her that when he was young, he found Ralph stomping on her newly planted growth. When he asked him why, Ralph said it was funny to see Emily so frustrated. He had never told her because it would break her heart. And he could never betray his brother’s trust.

  It was amazing the way the old memories came rushing back as they moved through the corridors. Ralph, Emily, his father, and mother. So many carefree recollections from his childhood. Chasing Emily down the hallway because she stole his sword. Walking down the hall with his father explaining the tallies. Hiding from Ralph behind the tapestry in a game of hide and seek.

  He chanced a glance at Grace. She walked beside him quietly, looking up at the tapestries they passed. Her clean hair was golden and styled up, allowing him a view of the line of her neck. Her skin was so smooth, so lovely. Kissable. The thought had entered his mind so quickly it startled him and he looked away...

  ...right into Emily’s eyes. Her knowing gaze and slow grin caused him to scowl a warning at her. She was up to something, he was sure of it.

  “The meal was lovely,” Grace said.

  William turned to her. Not as lovely as you, he thought.

  “Lovely?” Emily snorted. “That impertinent knight! He should have been beheaded.” She clasped Grace’s hands. “But you handled it so well! Don’t you think, William? Wasn’t Grace spectacular?”

  “Absolutely,” William agreed.

  “No,” Grace protested. “He had no right. You pay him for his services. He pledged fealty to your brother. He has no right to speak to you thus.”

  A wave of guilt spread through William. She was right. Instead of taking a stand as she had, he hid in his room to avoid confrontation. He always told himself it was part of his penance, to endure the anger from others, to put up with their disdain without fighting back. Perhaps that attitude was wrong. He looked at Grace. Perhaps it was time for a change. “Either way. I thank you for what you did.”

  She looked at him, her eyes sparkling as they settled on his. “I could do no less.”

  His heart melted. God’s blood, he was in trouble. How was he going to let her go without losing his heart? He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was stunning. Her grin set desire flaring through his loins.

  “Here it is,” Emily said quietly, barely able to conceal the smile on her lips. She waited for a moment before opening the door. “Now, remember. This is only a small garden. Cook’s and mine. But I’m very proud of it.”

  The door opened onto a starry sky. A trellis laced with roses led into a small area lined with herbs and vegetables. It was tucked away into a corner of the manor home that was basically useless for anything else. It was perfect.

  Grace gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

  Emily beamed with pride. She led the way through the small garden, which William noted was almost the exact size of the garden that was at the Mortain cottage. Emily pointed to a small corner. “Cook has let me plant here. These are mine.”

  “What have you planted?” Grace wondered.

  “Onions.” She pointed to a small line of growing plants. “See. There. And turnips.”

  Grace nodded. “They seem to be thriving.”

  Emily nodded, happily. “It makes me wonder if my earlier attempts weren’t sabotaged.” She glanced at William with narrowed eyes.

  William held up his hands. “I can tell you truthfully that I never touched your plants.”

  Emily humphed and turned to gaze at her garden. “Oh! Goodness! I’ve forgotten. Cook asked for my help. I’m so sorry. I shall find you when I am done.” She raced back through the door, leaving William and Grace staring after her.

  They both watched the closing door for a long moment in disbelief. William chuckled softly. “I must apologize, my lady. That was not very subtle.”

  “No,” Grace agreed.

  “Emily means well, but she is known to interfere in the affairs of others.”

  “I thought bringing us to this romantic setting and her quick departure seemed a little contrived.”

  “You are not insulted?”

  “Not at all. I think it’s delightful. Emily must love you very much. She is only doing what she thinks best for you.” Grace sighed softly. “I wish I had a cousin like her.”

  “She would love to be your friend. I’m afraid we don’t have many women in the Tracy family of Emily’s age.”

  Silence settled around them, leaving them to look at the surrounding garden.

  William’s stare returned to Grace to find her gazing at him.

  She laughed softly as if caught doing something she shouldn’t. She glanced quickly away to the garden.

  “I noticed you looking at the tapestries. What did you think of them?” William said.

  “I love them. The colors are vibrant. Most tapestries that I have seen depict violent images of war. But the ones here show jousts and courtly love and falconry. They are beautiful.”

  William couldn’t tear his gaze from her. He had never realized it, but she was right. Each tapestry lining the walls at the manor home were familiar to him, but he had never really looked at them. He should have noticed they showed no war or death or blood. It took Grace to point this out to him. Or did he simply see death and blood everywhere he looked?

  Her blue eyes warmed and sparkled. A gentle breeze blew a lock of her golden hair across her cheek.

  Except in Grace. He did not see despair and ruin. He only saw beauty and kindness in her. He lifted a hand to brush the strand aside but froze. He was not worthy of a woman like Grace. She deserved someone who could give her serenity and happiness. He fisted his hand and lowered it.

  Grace caught his fist in her small hands. “I was wrong about you, William. You are the most noble, honorable knight I have ever met.”

  William was shocked into silence. He shook his head to protest.

  Grace cupped his cheek, stroking his skin with her thumb. “I want you to know that. I want you to believe that.”

  Again, William shook his head. “You don’t know me.”

  “But I do. I know the man you are now. Your past doesn’t matter to me.”

  Need and desire flamed through him. He knew he shouldn’t believe her. But he wanted to. He knew he shouldn’t kiss her. But he wanted to. He lowered his lips to hers, half expecting her to pull away, but hoping she wouldn’t.

  Grace lifted her lips to William.

  He pulled he
r close and tight against his body, taking what she offered. God’s blood! She was delicious and warm. He wasn’t use to tenderness or softness. He wasn’t used to be... being wanted. Her kiss was a breath of fresh air. She sighed softly against him and he plunged his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. Wanting her. All of her. Her body was soft against his. Her arms moved up his back, holding him. She was actually kissing him back!

  He needed to save her. He pulled back from her but kept her in his arms. He looked into her dreamy, half-closed eyes and arousal shot to life in him, filling his veins and his manhood. “You are tired, Lady Grace,” he said softly. “I will see you to your room.”

  She blinked. And then blinked again as reality swept in around her. She stepped away from him, folding her hands before her. “Yes.”

  He guided her back toward the door, grateful for the gentle, cooling breeze. He opened the door.

  Emily stood there, surprise in her wide eyes. As if she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Then, a slow smile spread over her lips. “I was just coming back.”

  William narrowed his eyes. “I’m certain you were.” She had been waiting here for them the entire time. Cook had not needed her help, he was certain. “Lady Grace is tired. I am showing her to her room.”

  Emily nodded. She seized Grace’s hands. “Perhaps I could sleep in your room tonight! Just like sisters!”

  William moaned to himself. He knew he should protest, but he knew it would do no good.

  Emily pleaded with Grace to allow her to sleep in her room. Grace relented. How could she not? It was not her manor home. She was only a guest.

  As Emily slept beside her, Grace stared at the moon through the shutters in her room. She was having difficulty falling asleep. Could she have been so wrong? Had her prayers been answered all along in William? He was honorable, noble, and so very handsome. His blue eyes weakened her knees. His kiss sent her world spinning, made her entire body come to life. She had to admit that she was falling in love with him.

  Could the story of him murdering the archbishop be wrong? King Henry had not punished him, nor taken any of his lands away, so perhaps what William said was true. That the king had ordered the archbishop’s killing. Or was she wrong and she was justifying what he did because she was starting to have feelings for him?