Timeless Tales of Honor

by Suzan Tisdale

  She swallowed her giggles, fixing Richmond in the eye. "But you are my protector. Surely you would defend me."

  He feigned a wary look. "Not for certain. She would probably blister me, too."

  Arissa's giggles returned, only they were far calmer as she and Richmond gazed warmly at each other. The giggling moment eased as Arissa finally spoke. "I am.... I am glad you’re back, Richmond. I have missed you."

  William addressed her and she was forced to turn away from Richmond, releasing her grip as she moved forward to greet the de Rydals. Richmond could do naught but stare at her; the silken hair cascading to her buttocks, the magnificent sway of her backside when she walked. Dear God... she'd missed him.

  She’s told you that before, his inner self reminded him sternly. She’s told you that countless times. Why should this time be any different? He continued to gaze at Arissa as she politely greeted Ovid de Rydal, wondering why her declaration of longing was unlike all the rest. Then, it hit him... there had been something in her eyes. He knew he had not imagined it.

  A loud voice jolted Richmond from his thoughts. William was extending his hand in his direction, motioning him forward. Obediently, Richmond joined the de Lohr ranks. There were so many people crowded around Arissa that he was only able to take position behind her.

  Inadvertently, he brushed against her and she whirled to him, startled. He discreetly moved to step away until, much to his surprise, she pressed against him as if she were inexplicably afraid. Her body, soft and supple and young, scorched his flesh through layers of material and mail. He just stood there and absorbed it.

  The day advanced and guests arrived en masse. Richmond kept to Arissa like a shadow as she welcomed her guests, the massive silent protector as the horde of well-wishers descended. When Lady Maude and Regine joined the delegation, he was forced away from Arissa and into the role of distant guard.

  As much as he wanted to stand beside her, smelling the faint scent of gardenias, he knew it was better that he assume a distant stance. Mentally shaking himself and struggling to focus on something other than Arissa, he began to rove about the crowd gathered in front of the earl and his family, his trained eyes scanning the assembly for any signs of threat. He was not expecting any such danger, but it was his instinct to promote a wary attitude. That way, surprises were less likely to occur.

  He was watching the crowd so intently that he failed to notice Tad de Rydal swagger through the admiring throng, having just come from the Lambourn stables where he had personally settled his charger. A devilishly handsome man, he thrust himself in front of Lord de Becket and put Arissa's hand to his lips as if he was sampling the finest nectar.

  "My lady, it has been a very long time," he said in a sickeningly seductive tone. "You have grown more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined."

  Arissa gazed up at the large knight, vaguely remembering the arrogant young heir to the de Rydal fortune. "I.... thank you, my lord."

  He simply grinned, her palm still against his lips. Fairly indiscreetly, she yanked her hand away from his obnoxious mouth and attempted to refocus on her next guest, Baron Wendover. But Tad would not be forgotten so easily.

  "Have you an escort this day, my lady?" he said boldly. "I would consider it an honor if you would allow me the privilege of guiding you through this day."

  "She does indeed have an escort, Sir Tad," William was standing next to his daughter, ever-vigilant. "We thank you for your generous offer, however."

  Tad cocked an eyebrow. The man purely reeked of conceit. "I see. How foolish of me to assume otherwise," his blue gaze flicked to Arissa once again. "Your betrothed, no doubt?"

  Arissa met his conceited gaze steadily. She'd known the man less than a minute; already, she did not like him. "My betrothed is God himself, my lord. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other guests to attend to."

  "God himself?" Tad repeated loudly. Much to Arissa's horror, their conversation was drawing quite an audience. "I am sure I do not understand, my lady."

  "Lady Arissa is not meant for mortal men, Sir Tad," William said with lagging patience. He did not like the arrogant pup, either. "She was pledged to Whitby Abbey shortly after birth. Now, if you will...."

  "Whitby Abbey?" Tad echoed, astonished. His gaze moved between Arissa and William. "You would allow this beautiful young woman to be wasted within the walls of a convent? Surely you jest!"

  "'Tis no jest," Richmond suddenly appeared at Arissa's side, pulling her against his body protectively. "You have taken a good amount of Lady Arissa and Lord de Lohr's time. Kindly move along to enjoy the festivities this day has to offer."

  Tad gazed at Richmond, the hostility evident. He was a large young knight, but not nearly as large as Richmond. Obviously, he had no qualms about their difference in size.

  "Your name, knight?" he demanded of Richmond.

  Richmond's face was emotionless. "Sir Richmond le Bec."

  A flicker of recognition crossed Tad's features. "Le Bec.... Henry's le Bec?"

  Richmond nodded, once. Tad took a step back, although his arrogance was not entirely shaken. "I thought.... that is to say, I grew up on stories of your valor. I thought you would have been dead by now."

  "Not hardly," Richmond's voice was a growl. Lord de Rydal began tugging on Tad's arm and the young knight was wise enough to heed the call. But not before he cast a long glance at Arissa.

  "My lady, I hope you will save me a dance this eve. I shall look forward to it."

  Arissa gave him a lop-sided smile, her only response. She would have liked nothing better than to have outright refused the request, but it would not do for the hostess to insult one of her guests. As the crowd around them began to disband, Richmond clasped her tender white hand in a huge mailed fist.

  "Come along, my lady," he said firmly.

  "Where?" Arissa gathered her skirt, glancing at her father's questioning gaze.

  Richmond continued to lead her away. "I have a few duties to attend to. You may accompany me."

  "Duties? Where?"

  He slanted her a gaze. "Away from the Tad de Rydals of this world. If you greet any more guests, your hand will surely fall off from sheer overuse."

  She passed another glance at her father, who did not protest Richmond's removal in the least. Instead, he had turned back to his visitors. Strange, Arissa thought, how her father never questioned Richmond's actions, even when in direct conflict with his own desires.

  Her father had wished for her to greet her guests. Richmond had decided she'd had enough welcoming for the day and was determined to take her with him as he went about his duties. Of course, she would rather be with Richmond, but she found it odd that her father had not uttered a word of protest when the knight swept her away.

  She skipped after Richmond, aware of his hand tightly about her own. It began to occur to her than even while she was growing up, Richmond's word was law when it came to her well-being and upbringing. Where Regine or Bartholomew were concerned, her father had always had the final say in their lives. But never with her; it had always been Richmond.

  'Twas curious that the puzzlement over Richmond's authority should happen to cross her mind at that moment. Gazing up at his glorious profile, she couldn't imagine why her father would allow his friend to take charge of her life in such a fashion.

  Certainly, the truth of the matter would never have occurred to her in a million years.

  Four

  The day of the gala festivities had become a glorious example of pleasant winter weather. The sun was shining on the cold, dead earth in a vain attempt to deceive life from the frozen turf. As the guests finished arriving and the peasants began to wander into the fortress from the neighboring village bearing the same name, the gay mood saturated man and beast alike.

  Penelope, Daniel, Emma and Regine had joined Richmond and Arissa as they perused the happening of events. As one experiences at a faire, there were a myriad of games and entertainment going on to enthrall and captivate the guests
arrived in Arissa's honor. And none more enthralled than Arissa herself.

  Jugglers from the village were entertaining children by tossing apples about in a crazy manner. One man held a huge arch over his head laced with bells, shaking out a beat as he walked amongst the crowd. A few of the peasant women, with permission from Lady Maude, had set up make-shift tables upon which they sold beautifully sewn handkerchiefs and other sundry items.

  A group of young peasant boys brought cages full of cocks and had set up a passable arena in which to pit one rooster against the other. Richmond passed a glance at the group of enterprising young lads as they took bets for their cockfights. Regine wanted to watch but he grabbed her by the shoulders, steering the errant young girl back to her sister. He fought off a grin when she cast him a baleful, sneering glance.

  The wrestling matches for the men had commenced a half-hour before. The finer nobles and knights did not actually participate in the sport, but left the brutal competition to the men-at-arms and peasants who spent long hours training for the event. It was an exacting sport, pitting the largest and strongest of men against each other in a battle to the finish.

  It was also the loudest game by far as Richmond and his group passed within range. Richmond recognized some of his own men yelling encouragement to their favorite contender, vaguely wishing he could be a part of it. He greatly enjoyed a good sport, as William had been eager to point out. But he enjoyed Arissa far more than a male-dominated game; he glanced down at her, smiling at her saucer-round eyes as she observed the excitement.

  Ever-protective of his charge, especially in light of the rowdy spectacle, he proceeded to direct Arissa and an enthusiastic Regine clear of the wrestling. Even as he diverted the senses of his fair young wards, Daniel had no qualms about taking Penelope to view the event. Emma, tantalized with the thrill of seeing naked, sweaty men, casually trailed after Penelope and Daniel.

  "Emma's going!" Regine raged. "Why can't I watch?"

  Richmond lifted an eyebrow. "Emma is a lady of sixteen. You, my dear lass, are still too young to view such displays of flesh."

  Regine kicked at the dirt, pouting and angry. "I am not too young, Richmond le Bec. I have seen more.... well, I have seen more than Arissa. And she’s eighteen!"

  Richmond put his hands on his hips. "I know what you have seen, you naughty little wench, and I shall hear no more about it. Behave yourself."

  Regine crossed her arms defiantly, turning up her nose at him and glancing to her sister. She knew how to ease Richmond's unbending stance. It had never been a secret.

  "Riss," she said softly, moving toward her sister. A slip of a feigned sob escaped her lips. "He’s being ever so cruel. Tell him that I only wish to observe, that I won't stand too close. Please?"

  Arissa's gaze went from her baby sister to Richmond. He closed his eyes against her beseeching gaze and turned away.

  "Richmond...," she ventured quietly.

  God's Teeth, he'd do anything for her when she used that tone. "Nay, my lady, your sister is far too young to view such brutality."

  "Penelope and Emma are watching," she said softly.

  He gritted his teeth against the caressing tone of her voice, unwilling to look at her because he knew the moment he beheld the pale green eyes, all would be lost. Regine knew it, too.

  "Still, I must refuse."

  Arissa did not say anything for a moment. "I would like to watch."

  Damnation! She knew exactly how to manipulate him. If Arissa went to observe the match, he would be forced to accompany her. And he couldn't very well leave Regine alone, standing by herself.

  He turned to look at her. "Do you think that to be entirely wise? After all, you are pledged to God, my lady, and I doubt He would approve of an impressionable young virgin viewing men’s games of strength.”

  She smiled at him, a display of beauty so dazzling he was nearly blinded by the sight. He watched, awed, as she approached him, curling her delicate fingers about his massive forearm. Gazing down at her, he could scarcely breathe.

  "'Tis only a game, Richmond. It's not as if I shall be jumping in to the arena to challenge the victor."

  Unconsciously, his free mailed hand covered her soft warm appendages. He did not even realize he was gently caressing her. Certainly, he couldn't deny her; he'd never been able to. He felt himself caving in to her demand like a spineless dog when, over Arissa's shoulder, he caught sight of Regine's smirking face. Like a slap, reality whacked him brutally in the face. Come to your senses, you fool!

  "I must still refuse, my lady," he said, but his voice was strangely hoarse. "Your father would not approve."

  Arissa was not overly upset. Sighing with resignation, she simply turned to her sister and shrugged. Richmond almost laughed at the look of disbelief on Regine's face.

  Feeling as if he had somehow managed to win a small victory, he moved away from the wrestling. "Come, ladies," he said firmly. "More delights await us."

  Like a spoiled child, Regine danced about in disappointment before thinking better of her embarrassing display. Kicking at the ground one last time, she moved off in pursuit of her sister and the massive knight.

  Richmond continued to grasp Arissa's hand as they made their way towards the servant's exit to the rear of the keep. Both iron gates were wide open, allowing peasants and guests alike to pass to the open area beyond. A margin of clearing separated the fortifying wall from the forest beyond, a vast manicured field that was used for anything from sword practice to grazing horses. Today, however, it was being prepared for the glorious main event: the archery competition.

  "Look, Regine, the archery targets have already been raised," Arissa shielded her eyes from the bright sun. She turned to Richmond. "Are you competing?"

  He shrugged, folding his arms over his broad chest. "I hadn't thought on it, truthfully."

  "But you are the best archer in England," Arissa insisted. "Sweet St. Jude, you taught Bart and I to wield a bow and arrow when we were children. Why aren't you going to compete?"

  "As I said, I have not thought on it. I have not used a long-bow in some time, and crossbows are forbidden in competition."

  She cocked her head thoughtfully. "I am awarding the ribbon. I would certainly like to award it to you, where it belongs."

  "And you can carry my favor for luck," Regine said eagerly, her fury from a moment before inexplicably vanished.

  Arissa's face fell when Regine offered her favor to the powerful knight and Richmond could read her disappointment. Touched, not to mention encouraged in an odd way, he took hold of Arissa's hand and clutched it against his mighty chest.

  "Lady Regine, as honored as I would be to carry your favor, I must refuse in favor of the birthday girl," when Arissa's head came up in open astonishment, his eyes twinkled at her. "That is, if my lady would allow me to champion her on this most auspicious day."

  Arissa couldn't help but smile as he gazed warmly upon her. How could he have possibly known exactly what she was leading up to before Regine stole her thunder? To have Richmond champion her in front of her neighbors, allies and friends alike was better than she could hope for. Her father's friend, for as many years as she had known him, had declined all invitations to champion young, unmarried ladies.

  In fact, she remembered clearly at a tournament in Glastonbury when Richmond refused to champion a local earl's daughter. The earl had been so outraged that he had nearly demanded Richmond's head until a very calm Duke of Hereford pacified the man. She had been eleven years old at the time; it was the one and only time she had ever seen the duke, the man now known as Henry IV. Even then, the duke had treated Richmond as if he were a god. She barely remembered the would-be king; her attention, as always, had been focused on Richmond.

  It was still focused on him, as he was on her. Not wanting to seem quite so flattered or eager, she cocked a saucy eyebrow.

  "I shall think on it, Sir Richmond. I was rather thinking on having Tad de Rydal champion me but, alas, I suppose I could
make do with you."

  His eyebrows rose. "You cheeky little devil. How dare you consider that arrogant whelp over me. Why, I withdraw my offer immediately."

  She extracted her hand from his heated grasp, although the mood was light. "Very well. And I rescind my request that you compete in this tournament. Why, with your hands shaking with age as they do, there is no telling what you shall hit. Pray, can you even see the target from this distance?"

  He drew in a long contemplative breath, resting his massive fists on his hips. Puckering his lips, he turned toward the castle with narrowed eyes. "Quite easily. How clever of the marshals to disguise the mark to look like a battle turret. "

  Regine giggled. "That's not the target, Richmond. It's over there!" she pointed behind him, in the direction of the field.

  He whirled around, still squinting. "Ah, yes. I see most clearly now. How clever of them to create moving targets. Much more satisfying to a man of my skills."

  Arissa joined Regine in her giggles. "Those are not moving targets, Richmond, they are men-at-arms bearing Lambourn tunics. Are your eyes really so bad?"

  He slanted her a gaze, his eyes glimmering with mirth. "'Tis your own fault, really. You have blinded me with your radiant beauty."

  She lowered her lashes coyly, an utterly charming gesture. "In that case, I must take pity on you and allow you to champion me."

  Regine, tired of the games between Arissa and Richmond, bound off toward the activity on the field. But Richmond barely noticed her departure for the look in Arissa's eyes; suddenly, a great mailed glove came up to stroke her cheek tenderly. The emotions, the warmth in his gaze, threatened to swallow her whole. Her entire world at the moment revolved around Richmond and his feather-light touch.

  "Well spoken, kitten," he whispered. Then he sighed, his gaze raking over her. "I can scarcely believe you are eighteen years of age today. It simply does not seem possible."