A Moonlit Knight_A Knights Through Time Romance

by Cynthia Luhrs

  Richard didn’t bellow at the man; he kept to the shadows around the perimeter of the hall, skulking around like he was embarrassed to be seen.

  There was a young boy as well. Chloe had missed him behind the bolts of fabric. With the matching nose and eyes, he had to be the son.

  The kids quickly laid out the fabrics, the silks shimmering in the firelight. She walked up and down the tables, looking at the offerings.

  “The silk is beautiful, but I won’t be going to court, so I really need practical, everyday gowns.” She had her money split between her pockets. Even though Richard said he’d pay for her dresses, she didn’t want him to use his gold, since she was planning on leaving.

  The man was five or six inches shorter than she and still managed to look down his nose at her. His clothing was a muted blue and beautifully tailored, so she was hopeful he was good at his job.

  “As the lady wishes.” He made it sound like an insult. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Richard had taken a couple of steps closer.

  She looked at the ribbon and picked out several colors to tie her hair back and keep it from sticking out in a million directions. Most of the girls and women at the castle wore muted browns and grays, with a few blues. The natural color apron over the dresses made a nice combination. They still had the upper two floors to clean, and she wanted to travel without attracting too much attention, so she needed simple gowns.

  As to what else she needed, Chloe was a bit lost. There was a gasp and a shriek. The man’s eyes were huge, and his daughter hid behind his legs.

  “Is there a mouse?” Chloe stared at him, hands on her hips.

  “Nay…l…l…lady,” the man stuttered. He kept darting glances from her to Richard, who had appeared next to her without a sound.

  Without looking at the man, Richard snarled, “She lost her belongings and will require a cloak, two shifts, gowns, and silk hose.”

  “Of course, Lord Beast.” The man turned red. “Lord Bainford.”

  Chloe had learned enough during her short time here that she thought the man should be jumping up and down at such a sale instead of looking at Richard like he was on display in a zoo.

  If she didn’t need clothes so badly, she would have thrown him out herself. The wool was nice and heavy and would keep her warm. She looked at the offering of colors, surprised at the amount of choice. Everything from the muted colors to bright blues, reds, and purples.

  “Richard?”

  He was at her side in an instant. She must have looked overwhelmed, because he took charge, issuing orders, sending everyone scurrying about. Before she knew it, she’d been measured, and the material for her aprons, hose, and shifts had been selected and placed next to the ribbons for her hair. He had picked out a dark brown for her cloak and ordered it trimmed with fur. He said the girls at Bainford would embroider it for her.

  Grateful for the help, she picked out a dark, almost burgundy red and a heather gray. “I think these will do nicely.”

  The man nodded.

  “One more thing.” She explained how she wanted pockets in the apron and the gowns. He was confused until she picked up a corner of the fabric and demonstrated.

  “Ah, yes. It will be done.”

  Chloe touched Richard’s sleeve, and when he bent down, she whispered in his ear. His eyebrow went up, but he nodded.

  “See a tunic and hose fashioned in the same colors for the lady.”

  The man gaped. “’Tis not proper. She—”

  “Do as I say.” He thundered.

  The man gulped and nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  She tried to pay, but Richard wouldn’t let her. “Nay, the Red Knight will be indebted to me for taking care of you.”

  “Thank you.” As much as she was dying to know more about Melinda’s husband, she couldn’t ask without giving herself away, and he was already suspicious.

  By the way Richard acted, Chloe knew he must be used to people treating him like he wasn’t a man but an oddity about which they could say whatever they wished, with no thought to hurting his feelings.

  His jaw was clenched so tight that she thought it a wonder he hadn’t cracked his teeth. It was the only indication he was affected by the man’s behavior.

  She wondered what the merchant would have done if he’d seen Richard without his hood. Though the little pumpkin of a man kept trying to get a better look. At one point, she tripped him and pretended it was an accident. Not nice, but she didn’t want anyone treating Richard as lesser.

  Chapter 17

  The ribbons Chloe could take now; the rest would be delivered in a few days. She was admiring the colors as she placed them in the trunk when there was a knock at the door.

  Richard stood in the doorway, a bundle in his arms. “I had one of my tunics and hose cut down to fit you until your gowns are ready.” He looked at her clothes. “Your garments attract undue attention, even for Bainford. I would burn them if ’twas me, but if you must keep them, put them in the trunk and lock it.” Then he handed her a pair of beautiful leather boots and a pair of knitted socks. “For you.”

  The black tunic and hose were soft from being laundered, the leather soft and supple. The socks were a natural color. Her toes would finally be warm.

  “This is too much, thank you. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble.”

  “Nay. You bring light to Bainford.” He filled up the room with his presence. She noted the daggers in his boots, the sword at his hip, and thought of her granda, who always had a dagger somewhere on his person.

  “When you have dressed, I will walk with you on the battlements,” he said. “I know you like to look at the snow and the land.”

  “That would be lovely. I won’t be long.”

  He shut the door behind him, and she held the clothes to her nose. They smelled like him. The scent of the woods, leather, and the outdoors. If she could bottle it, she’d make a fortune.

  The tunic was long enough to be a dress, and the hose sagged a bit around the knees, but otherwise, the girls had done a great job. Then Chloe noticed a small detail and laughed. One of them had embroidered a cat chasing a ball of string on the sleeve. The socks were warm and the boots fit well. All she needed was a dagger and she’d feel very medieval.

  Her sneaker mules were trashed, but she didn’t dare burn them—the smell would be horrible—so she put them on the stool and folded her clothes on top of them. She’d ask for the clothes to be laundered and then she’d pack them in the trunk in the knapsack she’d found in there. The sneakers couldn’t be buried—what if she needed them to get home? To be safe, she’d wash them herself; no sense in having the girls look too closely at the laces or the tag inside. Maybe she’d better wash the jeans and t-shirt too; the zipper on her jeans would cause way too many questions.

  A blue ribbon that reminded her of Richard’s eyes went around her hair, tied in a low ponytail. Comfortable, she opened the door only to find him there, one booted foot touching the wall, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

  “I didn’t know you were waiting right here. I would have hurried.” Was it hot in here? Or was it him?

  “I would gladly wait all day.” He proffered his arm. “Shall we?”

  * * *

  Richard had bested the three men who had ridden through his gates and demanded to fight the beast without breaking a sweat. The gold would pay for him to replant the gardens and the orchards in the spring.

  Restless, he had run through the rest of his guard and spent the day teaching the lads swordplay.

  He removed his sweat-soaked tunic and wiped his face when Chloe entered the solar bearing a cup of ale. Richard liked her watching him as he fought. Knowing she was there, he’d fought harder, caring what she thought, and did not want her to look upon him with revulsion.

  “I’ll fetch you more ale.” She turned and fled. Was his form as disgusting as his visage? A sigh escaped as he sat in the chair and brooded, his booted feet in front of the fire.

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  Two weeks at Bainford Castle had Chloe totally revising her opinion. The serving girls she’d first encountered in the tavern were nothing more than gossips. They’d probably never even seen Richard, simply repeated and embellished the stories they’d heard.

  Out of all the kids and servants, there were several adults who still crossed themselves whenever Richard passed by. The last time he’d fought for gold, she’d seen the looks, heard the whispers, and was so angry that she could hardly hand Richard the cup of ale without screaming. The man had been sitting in front of the fire, scars on his back and arms from the battles he’d fought in—the battles he’d fought to make money to keep everyone he was responsible for fed. And those jerks still couldn’t see past his face.

  Then today, she’d had enough. After the morning meal, she’d organized a cleaning crew to tackle the second floor. When they thought she was out of earshot, she’d heard them talking about Richard. To his face, they called him “my lord,” but behind his back, they still called him the beast. They told tales of how the cats running around were the devil’s familiars.

  She should have laughed it off, but she was furious on his behalf. So she stomped down the stairs, yelling for Edwin.

  “Mistress Chloe, I fear you have been spending too much time with my lord. You are beginning to sound like him.” The steward winked at her.

  “Sorry.”

  Edwin had been favoring his shoulder, rubbing it. One of her gram’s friends, Esmeralda, had done the same thing, and said it was arthritis.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but your shoulder?” She kept her voice low, not wanting to draw attention to him, as she knew he did not like to complain. “Do you eat fish?”

  He blinked at her. “Nay. I find I do not care for the taste.”

  “If you put heat on your shoulder at night it will help with the stiffness. So will willow bark tea.” She smiled. “And fish.”

  “Think you?”

  “A friend of my grandmother suffered from stiffness and aches. She said those three things helped a great deal. I know you do not care for fish. Let me talk to Merry and have her prepare it another way.”

  Edwin eyed her dubiously but nodded. “It canna hurt. Thank ye.” He grinned at her. “Why were you stomping about and bellowing?”

  “I’ve heard a few of the servants talking about Richard. I do not care for the things they say.”

  Edwin sighed. “’Tis hard to find those who will stay. Most run away.”

  “How can they say such mean things? I’ve seen the children left at the gates.”

  “Changelings.” He nodded.

  She scoffed. “Come on, you don’t really believe that, do you?” Chloe had worn Richard’s old tunic and hose instead of one of her gowns today, since she knew she’d be crawling around on the floors. It was so much easier to move around in pants than a long gown that caught on her heels and made her trip, much to the amusement of the kids.

  “The parents believe the children are changelings. Now orphans come to Bainford in search of meals and a safe place to sleep. They are willing to face my lord.” Edwin shrugged. “We need the servants. I am too old to care for Bainford alone.”

  “You don’t believe the stories about him, do you?”

  He chuckled. “Nay. I remember when he rode through the gates.” Edwin looked sad. “He was so angry, the wounds terrible, and yet for all his grumbling, he has done all in his power to be a good lord.”

  “I won’t have the servants talking about him. Can you get rid of them?”

  “Who will do the work?” Edwin rubbed his shoulder, wincing.

  “Will you get rid of them?”

  Edwin patted her arm. “I am an old man. They will not listen.”

  “The children are already doing most of the chores. The ones who are too young can take care of the cats and dogs. Chores will be good for them, keep them out of mischief.”

  Chloe was making it up as she went. Thanks to Gram, she hadn’t had to do much growing up. The housekeeper cleaned and did the laundry, so that left making her bed every day and picking up her room so the housekeeper could clean.

  Loading and unloading the dishwasher was also her responsibility. Her mom had offered to take over the cleaning, but Gram said no; her housekeeper had been with her for years and needed the work. So Chloe’s mom ran errands, took care of the grocery shopping, and cooked.

  Gram and Mom had wanted Chloe to enjoy being a kid. But now? She wanted to pay Richard back for the clothes and to let him know with actions that she noticed how he cared for others.

  “The children and I can take care of Bainford.” She pressed her lips together. “You won’t stop me?”

  “Nay, lady.”

  Full of purpose, Chloe gathered all of the servants and children together. She looked at each one, staring until they dropped their eyes.

  “I have heard some of you talking about Lord Bainford. You have full bellies and a warm bed because of him, yet you gossip like the serving wenches in the village. I’ll not have it.” She went up to each person, one by one, that she’d heard talking about Richard. “All of you can leave. Do not return.”

  Two of the men scoffed. “Says you. We aren’t going anywhere.”

  “You cannot make us leave.” One of the women pouted.

  Chloe stood there, hands on her hips, wondering how on earth she’d get them to leave if they refused. Then they straightened up.

  “Mistress Chloe.” Garrick and six guardsmen stood behind her, hands on their swords. “You heard her. Be gone.”

  The servants she’d dismissed grumbled and glared, but they left.

  “See they leave, then close the gates,” she ordered Garrick.

  “I shall see it done.” He waited until his men had followed the servants out before he leaned in close. “Does Richard know?”

  She bit her lip. “No. What do I tell him? I don’t want him to know it was because of the things I’ve heard them saying about him. It might hurt his feelings.”

  Garrick patted her shoulder, almost making her fall over. The man had no idea how strong he was. “Tell him they offended you. Who knows why women do what they do.” He grinned.

  Afterward, she told the remaining servants and children what their new duties would be, starting with readying the hall for supper.

  Hands on her hips, Chloe surveyed a job well done. Contributing to the household made her feel like she wasn’t taking advantage of Richard’s hospitality. The great hall was pretty as a peach. Wait until Richard saw how the second floor would sparkle when they finished.

  Chapter 18

  “You, my friend, are getting fat and lazy, eating so well since Merry took over the kitchens,” Garrick jested as he swung his sword, his hair plastered to his neck.

  “I am not fat nor lazy, you insolent cur.” Richard wielded his sword, muscles flexing as he lunged.

  Garrick had come and gone over the past years, staying until he was required to fight. Knowing how much it pained Richard not to fight, his friend did not talk overmuch of the skirmishes.

  They had been in the lists all morn. At times, the loss of his eye made Richard sick when he swung a sword. He would go a fortnight, mayhap two, when his leg and arm did not pain him, making him believe ’twas healed. But nay, ’twas merely the cursed fates jesting with him. For the next morn he would wake in a foul temper, his head and body aching.

  Bent over and gasping for breath, he knew ’twas going to snow again. Ever since his injury, much like his steward, he knew when it would rain or snow by how much his leg and eye pained him.

  When he stood, Richard blinked slowly until he no longer saw spots. Nay, no spots, but his servants leaving through the gates.

  “What the bloody hell? Why do you leave Bainford and your lord?” he roared.

  One of the men sneered. “The odd wench threw us out.”

  “Told us to leave and never show our faces at Bainford again, else she would see us run through,” said another.


  Chloe. Who did the wench think was to order his servants about as if they were her own? He was lord here, not her. Bainford was his home; he would not have a wench with odd ideas turn it upside down.

  By his count, he was left with a few women and more than a score of young ones. Full of fury, Richard sheathed his sword.

  “Where are you off to? You haven’t paid me back for my insults.” Garrick waited, sword at the ready.

  Richard narrowed his eyes. “You knew?” The look on Garrick’s face told the tale. “I will see to you later.”

  Richard’s heavy steps into the hall had the lasses fleeing.

  “Chloe. Come here,” he thundered.

  One of the little ones ran up the stairs with a squeak. While he waited, he paced back and forth across the hall until his anger was stoked higher than a bonfire.

  She wiped her face with her apron, a damp tendril stuck to her cheek. “What’s so important?”

  “Are you chatelaine of Bainford?”

  “Obviously not.” She looked to the doors. “Oh, that’s what you’re yelling about.” She turned her back on him. “I have work to do.”

  “Damnation, woman. You will face me when I speak to you.”

  She turned around, hands on her hips. “I don’t care for your tone.”

  “I am lord of Bainford, not you. I have let you go around in my tunic and hose like a man, and have I said a word? Nay. And this is how you repay my hospitality? You turn out my servants without asking me.”

  She took two steps closer, brown eyes almost black, her entire face and neck pink as she poked him in the chest.

  “Quit yelling at me and let me explain,” she bellowed, sounding a bit like him. Tapping her foot, she blew a curl out of her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I know you are lord here. For your information, those lazy servants don’t do anything around here but laze about and gossip, and I won’t have it.”