Her Christmas Knight

by Nicole Locke

  Sometimes he taunted Hugh with snide comments regarding his father or his threadbare clothes. Most times he preyed on someone younger or smaller than him. If Allen was happy, he and his friends were up to no good.

  So Hugh had changed direction and walked towards the well. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. He hadn’t needed to get involved. He’d had enough to do; his own burdens to carry. But his steps had steadily brought him closer.

  It was then that he’d heard her bitter cries for help. The pleading, the words, the shrieking.

  Alice’s helplessness had snapped his pent-up rage. His fists curled; he’d lengthened his strides into a run before he’d given it a thought.

  He hadn’t shouted out as he’d ploughed into Allen. It had been as if Allen’s cruelty was the manifestation of all the years he’d fought against his father. Against the town. Against his peers, who were supposed to be his friends but who heaped only more torment upon him.

  With the first swing he’d felt the satisfying crunch of breaking Allen’s cheekbone. Then he’d taken on the rest until they’d run.

  He’d never felt anger like that—neither before nor since. He had still been angry when he’d lowered a rope to pull Alice up. So angry he hadn’t explained that it was him. So up had come the shrieking child, her arms and legs swinging.

  She’d broken his nose...and made it worse when she’d tried to fix it.

  He rubbed his hands down her back, soothing her, soothing his memories. It was only the two of them in the dark, their past remembered through her fear and his actions.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.

  ‘I’m the one who broke your nose.’

  He huffed out a breath. ‘It looks better this way.’

  She had said that to him at the time. ‘You remember that?’

  ‘How could anyone forget how you attacked me? I was in agony, but you wrenched my nose to the left.’

  Her small hands on either side of his bloody nose...his eyes streaming... He had held her then, though he’d wanted to fling her away. Held her until her trembles and fears had eased. Like now. He rubbed her back. Felt the warmth, the curves, her strength—felt her hands grip his tunic in answer.

  ‘You could have stopped me.’

  ‘I tried.’

  No, he hadn’t. Not really. He had been comforting her and drying her tears.

  ‘I made it worse. What did your father think when you got home?’

  Alice regretted her question the moment he tensed against her.

  ‘As I’m sure you remember, my father didn’t say much at all—let alone have an opinion about my nose,’ he said.

  Pressing her hand upon his chest, she pulled away to see his expression. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but the light coming through the slats wasn’t enough for her to see what was in his eyes. Still she tried to tell him he had it wrong—about his past, about that day.

  ‘I want you to—’

  ‘What are you doing in here?’ he interrupted.

  Another change of subject, and she felt no relief. Neither talking of their past or her present was easy. Especially since she needed to lie to him. But he’d seen her come in here, and close the door. She couldn’t pretend she was in the wrong room.

  ‘The dance will end and we’ll have to leave soon,’ he said.

  Affected by the dark, by his comfort, a part of her didn’t want to lie to him. If she said something—if she confessed what she truly had been doing—what would the King do? Yet right now, in the dark with Hugh holding her, the King felt very far away.

  ‘I was looking for something.’

  Exhaling, he turned his face away. ‘It’s time, isn’t it?’

  He’d said that to her once before after the barn restoration. After they worked together and had some accord. It felt like that now with his arms around her. With his comfort in the dark. It felt like they were coming to some understanding, but she didn’t know what. ‘It’s time?’

  ‘For the truth. For some answers to the questions I’ve had. Because here, now, I’m beginning to comprehend what is real, and don’t know if I...’ He shook his head. ‘Please tell me this has nothing to do with the King.’ He took a step away, but his hands remained on her shoulders. ‘That you’re not in here because the King sent you.’

  She didn’t want to lie to him. ‘Why would the King send me into Lyman’s room?’

  ‘Then this has nothing to do with that day in the King’s chambers?’

  She didn’t know what to say, and then she heard a sound from him. Swallowing—as if he was suddenly afraid.

  ‘If it is, be careful what you say to me.’

  ‘Why should I be careful?’

  Absolute silence—as if she’d shocked him. As if he held a thousand words back. And then she knew—from his silence, from his actions, from the few words he’d already said.

  She knew because this was Hugh. She knew the calibre of man he had been, and she’d already glimpsed the man he still was.

  And right now he was soothing her in the dark. He was protecting her because he knew... He knew she was in danger.

  ‘You said...’ she began. ‘You said I’d been caught. You said it isn’t safe. You’re a spy, too.’

  His hands tightened on her arms before they released her. Her trembles were almost gone now.

  ‘Are you spying on me? Did the King send you here to make sure I followed his orders? Or...are you here to stop me?’

  ‘Too many questions,’ he said curtly. ‘You won’t get confessions that way.’

  It wasn’t the dark making her ramble; it was the enormity of her realisation. ‘It’s true, then?’

  ‘What is?’

  Now there was his cynicism again. ‘All of it. The King did send you here to spy on me. You are like me.’

  ‘You can’t be a spy,’ he said. ‘You’re a woman.’

  His words sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. ‘The fact that I’m a woman didn’t bother the King when he commanded me. He didn’t tell you this when you requested his counsel?’

  ‘You’re here because of your project with Mitchell, Alice. You have to be.’

  His words were short, brisk, as if he was forcing them to be true.

  ‘You know that’s not true,’ she said.

  ‘It’s enough,’ he whispered.

  It should be enough. Christmas season...the rains flooding the fields...Mitchell’s inspiration for the spinning wheels. But the King had demanded more of her. Everything. Her family was at risk. And now Hugh was here in Swaffham. Asking questions, following her. Being cruel and then revealing kindness.

  Maybe he was so adamant about her keeping secrets because he kept a few himself.

  ‘As you know, what is and isn’t enough doesn’t matter when it comes to the King’s command.’

  She wanted to step back, move, think through all of this. She could hear the revellers below. The entertainment was still in full swing. Even so, she didn’t have much time. And she hadn’t had time to look yet.

  Hugh’s presence be damned—she had to look. She wouldn’t get another chance like this.

  Forcing her eyes to follow the lighted slats, she walked to the desk and felt along its corners.

  ‘What does the King command?’ His voice drew out each word in cold lethality.

  She couldn’t see anything, and was worried she’d knock something over. ‘Why would the King send two spies to this town?’ she replied.

  She had known it was foolish to bring a candle into the room, when she could be easily caught. But her fears had battled with her duties, and it was simply easier to see. Now everything was murky dark with the only light from the covered windows, and the thin light between the floorboards and under the door.

  W
here to start?

  When she’d opened the door, all she’d taken in was the desk. She hadn’t seen if there were other places to search.

  ‘Are you here to ensure I complete my assignment? Because I haven’t found it yet.’

  He was silent. Remained silent. She realised it was a good tactic, because in the dark she wanted to make confessions. She also wanted to mourn her lost opportunity.

  ‘What is it you’re to find?’ he said, but his voice sounded far away—as if he could barely get the words out.

  ‘Did you see anywhere else to search in here? I’ve got the desk, but this is a large room—there could be other places to look.’

  ‘There’s a cabinet under the window.’

  She heard him step closer.

  ‘What is it you’re looking for?’

  She disrupted a couple of scrolls. ‘Hopefully Lyman’s not observant.’

  ‘Tell me it’s not true—that you’re not a spy.’

  ‘Why are you acting so angry? Remember all those talks of secrets and kings, and your following me? This is it. I’m showing you; I’m answering your questions.’

  ‘It’s not safe—he couldn’t have asked you to do such a thing.’

  ‘No, it’s not safe—for my family is threatened. So here I am.’

  Silence again. She glanced up, could barely see his outline for he didn’t move. He looked as if he hardly breathed.

  She knew the feeling.

  ‘He has threatened you and your family?’ he said.

  She righted a candlestick. ‘Why else would I be doing this?’

  ‘I thought—’

  ‘You thought I was his mistress.’

  ‘Stop—just stop.’

  ‘We don’t have much time. If you’re here to make sure I accomplish what he asked me to do, then you can see me doing it. If you intend to stop me, you should probably start.’

  ‘Why are you doing this in front of me? Why are you showing me this?’

  ‘You are a spy, like me. I know you are, so you can’t pretend.’

  ‘Then, if so, you are betraying secrets.’

  ‘I don’t have a choice.’ She paused. ‘I trust you.’

  He cursed. ‘Never trust anyone.’

  She did stop then, as he moved towards her. There was no light at all, but she could see the rigidity of his shoulders, his clenched fists, the jut of his chin.

  ‘I trust you,’ she repeated. ‘You saved me from the dark. You won’t harm me.’

  ‘I could.’

  Hugh’s voice helped her concentrate, to not think about the darkness, but his tone prickled unease up her wandering hands.

  He wasn’t pleased about their exchange.

  Well, neither was she.

  Was it the fact that the King had made her a spy? Was it her, a woman risking her reputation in a man’s private chambers?

  Too many questions and no time to waste.

  ‘You’re going to help me. I’ve delayed already and I haven’t any time left. You wouldn’t let something happen to my family.’

  ‘It’s been six years, Alice. You don’t know me at all.’

  She didn’t. But she was realising that time had passed for both of them.

  ‘You don’t know me if you think I could be the King’s mistress... Or anyone’s mistress.’

  Hugh pinched the bridge of his nose, felt the bump there. She had punched him when she’d thought he was one of her tormentors. A part of him...down to his very bones...recognised that she wouldn’t capitulate to her monarch’s demands. ‘I know.’

  ‘And yet you made those comments?’

  Her words shamed him. ‘Foolishly. Heatedly. But I realised that it only mattered because it wasn’t with—’ He bit back the words he, a traitor, should never say to her. Instead, he said, ‘I need to apologise.’

  Her lips parted, as if she was going to say something else, but she shook her head. ‘You can apologise by searching that cabinet you saw by the window.’

  He had expected more anger. He’d insulted her—and not only once. But there was something more here. Something he needed the answers to, but didn’t want to ask. Still...

  ‘I need to understand first. The King sent you back to Swaffham to look for something in Lyman’s house?’

  The King had sent him to look for the Half-Thistle Seal, to pay close attention to the Fenton family. Could it be that the King suspected Lyman as well as the Fentons? That might be the break he needed in this nightmare he was embroiled in. Him returning to Swaffham, facing his past, facing Alice. If he could place the blame on this man who stared at Alice too lasciviously then something good would come of it.

  Except it didn’t matter if it was Lyman’s house or all the houses of Swaffham. The real trouble was if the King had sent her to look for the Seal, that only meant she looked for him.

  ‘It isn’t necessarily Lyman’s house I need to search,’ Alice continued. ‘It’s all the houses. After I played his game of finding a seal—’

  ‘A seal—?’

  Denying the truth didn’t stop the words. His body shook, shuddered, and he exhaled his held breath. The Seal. If the King had sent her to find it, that meant he didn’t trust Hugh. It was possible that the King suspected him. But that couldn’t be true. He’d been careful. Lives were at stake.

  He’d been careful.

  Before he knew what he was doing he took steps to be next to her, to touch her. By placing his hand on her arm he could solidify whatever words they would now exchange. Not the stuff of nightmares, but reality.

  ‘It was only a game—or so I thought.’

  He didn’t want to discuss games. ‘What seal?’

  ‘The game at the Tower of London was a test to find a fake seal. When I was the winner the King deemed me worthy of finding a true seal.’

  There would be no coming back from what she was about to say—no remedy. He wouldn’t be able to hide his thoughts or reactions from her. If she looked for the Seal she would find him. He couldn’t lie or hide the truth from her. Either way he would be found out for the traitor he was.

  His past separated him from her; his present made it all the more unbearable. His lineage had been forced upon him, but the Seal was his own inspiration. His own blackened deed.

  Alice, who was always so determined to right wrongs, to fix misdeeds, had been commanded—threatened—by the King to find a traitor. If she found the Seal—if she found him—she would know him as a traitor. And the only way for the King to right the wrong would be to execute him.

  It wasn’t his death he worried about. It was the loss of that unreserved admiration in her eyes when she looked at him. She’d never tried to fix him before. Now she would see him as an enemy.

  He had thought himself, if not safe, at least secure that the King had sent only him. But he hadn’t. And right now he didn’t want to think about the King not trusting him. He only wanted to think of what Alice was about to say and how he would react.

  ‘What seal?’ he repeated.

  ‘A small one with a half thistle,’ she said in the dark.

  Hugh kissed her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Arms that formed a cage embraced her. A male body that exuded the smell of snow and pine and steel and heat slammed against her own. Jarring her hip against the desk she searched.

  Hugh.

  Hugh holding her tightly, holding her as if she would fly away on the storm he held in his eyes. The scratch of his jaw, the intent of his lips demanding against hers.

  Until she held him just as tightly, her fingers linking at his nape, entwining with his curls and the velvet of his collar.

  She thrust her body up to meet his. So there was no dark, no desk, no room. Only him.

  And there
were no more demands but only coaxing as her lips softened against his and she opened for him. Opened as she had wanted to that day long ago. But she knew that it wouldn’t have happened like this then. It was the dark, the circumstances, the fact that they’d waited.

  It was worth the wait. There was a sound—his, hers—as he pulled her more to him, as she pulled back. He yanked his lips away, slid them along her jaw, behind her ear. Her fingers kneaded him, bringing him closer, tighter. Wanting more.

  And then there were words.

  ‘Alice...’

  ‘Please,’ she said, rubbing her cheek along his more abrasive one, moving her fingers along his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense along his arms, his back.

  There was a hitch of his breath when she slid them along his lower back and up—up until she was fully pressed against him.

  ‘All this time...’ he said, his lips trailing down to her neck. ‘All my imaginings... I couldn’t know... I wouldn’t.’

  She arched and gave him more access, and shivered as his kiss became harsher, hungrier at her collar. She hated her clothes then—hated his as her fingers clenched in the fine weave of his tunic. He was restless too as he yanked her to the other side, as if his lips, his hands, could have more access on her left than her right.

  He gave a growl of need when his hands pressed down her back, down until he was cupping her, lifting her.

  She gasped then, lost her grip on his tunic. Her weight fully upon him as he stepped forward to find the desk behind them.

  Stumbling. A curse. The hold broken.

  Alice couldn’t catch her breath. Heard the harshness of Hugh’s. Felt it against her cheeks before he pulled away from her.

  The cool air of the room between them was unwanted, his hand on her hip not enough, so she pressed her weight against the desk to steady herself.

  Why had they stopped?

  The darkness held no answer for her. She couldn’t see what was in his eyes. Her thumping heart came to its own conclusion. Fear that Hugh was gone from her again. As he had left that day in the field, before he kissed her.

  If he had truly left her, it would be worse. So this time, no matter what was said, she wouldn’t run. She’d face him.