Awakening—A Medieval Romance (The Gresham Chronicles)

by Saskia Knight

  Contents

  Cover Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  AWAKENING

  —A Medieval Romance—

  The Gresham Chronicles, Book I

  by Saskia Knight

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2011 by Saskia Knight

  Cover design © RomanceNovelCovers.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is co-incidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  The Gresham Chronicles

  Three sisters…Three loves…

  Prologue

  Norfolk, England 1206

  Lady Angelique Gresham closed her eyes and fell back on the soft grass, relishing the heat of the summer sun on her eyelids and the sensuous tickle of wildflowers against her ankles. She sighed. “What a perfect day. I want it to last forever.”

  Lady Melisende Gresham gazed thoughtfully across the lush river valley to the castle, so solid and prosperous, and watched as the pennant flying atop the battlements snapped and fluttered briefly before changing direction. “Nothing lasts, Angel. You will be married soon, as will Rowena.”

  Lady Rowena Gresham, who paced restlessly as she cast a knowing eye at the crops in a neighboring field, took one last bite of her apple and threw the core at Melisende, hitting her squarely on the back. “Hush, Melly, I was happy until you said that. I’ll never marry, unlike Angel, lying there grinning like a fool while she thinks about a certain knight. And unlike you, marrying God.” She folded her arms and looked upon the castle with a proprietorial air. “I will live here at Gresham, will run the castle, just as father does. And will live happily ever after.”

  “That simple, hey?” Angelique’s grin broadened at the sight of Rowena’s supremely confident stance, and turned into laughter as she met Melisende’s answering smile. But Rowena didn’t laugh, just looked out at the line of darkness that lay on the northern horizon. Melisende was right. A change was coming…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Norfolk Coast, England, 1214

  Lady Angelique Gresham barely felt the chill rain that descended through the ruined chapel roof onto her upturned face. She blinked her eyes to clear them of the water that clung to her lashes but dared make no further movement, other than to tighten her grip around the silver dagger.

  Someone was out there on the black, rain-soaked marshes.

  No-one should be out there.

  It was too wild a night for man or beast to roam the desolate land between castle and sea. Only a foolish woman would have ventured forth for sentimental reasons. Only a foolish woman, whose regret at her impulsive behavior deepened with each pounding beat of her heart.

  Angelique focussed all her senses on locating the shadow that had just passed by one of the windows. She strained to hear any sign of life above the whine of the wind as it caught the jagged edges of the chapel’s flint walls—but she heard no other sound. Her eyes scanned the darkness for movement—but she saw nothing but shadows of stone, black against the charcoal sky.

  She exhaled shakily—not realizing she’d been holding her breath—and edged her way to the gaping hole where the door had once been. She had to return to the castle. No-one would hear her cries from here. No-one knew she was here. It had been foolish to come.

  She hesitated under the stone arch, narrowing her eyes in an effort to give form to the shadows outside the chapel walls. Suddenly, the shadows coalesced and before she could raise her dagger, her hand was clamped by a man’s hand and her body was brought tight against a man’s body. She struggled to draw breath to scream but a calloused hand closed tight against her mouth.

  “Angel!” His voice was low, strong and insistent. “By Christ, will you be still!”

  Even as a madness of energy shot through her body, giving her the strength to struggle against his vice-like grip, she suddenly stilled, responding to his voice before her mind had time to inform her body of what it was already aware. She knew this man.

  He loosened his grip and she twisted around, hardly daring to believe what her senses were telling her. In the darkness and rain she could see nothing: only feel his warm breath upon her face. Her nostrils flared as her body reacted to his scent. It was him.

  She drew her hand up to his face, touching it hesitantly, still disbelieving that he should return after all these years.

  His hand slipped from her mouth and rested on her shoulders.

  “Guy?” Her hushed voice was swept away by the wind, but she knew he’d heard. She could feel the heat of his fingers, despite the thick, fur-lined mantle, as they pressed briefly against her shoulders. His hand covered hers before he twisted her palm to his lips and kissed it. A shiver of wanting rippled through her body.

  “The same.”

  A cry emerged from some hidden place deep within and she dropped her head to his chest, squeezing her eyes tight shut, finding the reality of him stronger that way, fearing he would disappear like he did in her dreams. She felt his arms come around her and pull her close.

  For one long moment she allowed the heat of his hands to penetrate her body, too long cold; for one long moment she absorbed his presence as if it were an extension of her own and for one long moment she felt as if anything were possible.

  But then reality filtered through her shocked senses. She shook her head, no longer able to believe and slid her hands up between them, pushing his chest away from her. He would go from her, like he always had, her dreams following the reality of his disappearance seven years before. She couldn’t lose him again. She couldn’t risk losing herself in him.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To see you.”

  His powerful voice had softened and she could feel emotion in the timbre of his words. But she shook her head once more and stepped away. He slowly released her, his fingers unfurling from her cloak, as if reluctant to release her.

  “Why? What do you want with me?”

  “I wish to see you, to talk with you, to find out how you fare.” His hand came up once more as if to touch her face but he dropped it and brushed down her arm instead, in a long, sweeping caress. “Come, I will escort you back. The marshes are a chill and pitiless place to greet an old friend.”

  An old friend. That was all she was to him. “Of course.”

  She walked swiftly down the narrow path that led to the castle, her heart pounding, aware of his presence just one step behind. Her mind raced, trying to catch up with the surge of emotions and reactions that flooded her body. Was he really here to see her? If so, what did he want from her?

  She hesitated only a moment before withdrawing a key from the bag that hung from her belt and opening the heavy door that led into the bailey. Unnoticed by the small cluster of guards that leant against the gatehouse talking and drinking, she led him up the outer steps of the keep to the Great Hall.

  Once inside she quickly lit a rush light and scanned the hall to see if Guy had brought others, to see if anything had changed. But it was just as she’d left it. The fresh rushes, left by the servants before they’d departed for the Michaelmas festivities in the village, the dying embers of a fire, a long, tendril of smoke curling up into the roof above and an old, deaf dog, h
alf asleep, who flicked his tail in lazy welcome.

  “Where is everyone?”

  She started at the closeness of his voice behind her and walked away, busying herself with lighting the other rush lights, her hand trembling as she held up a lighted taper to the tallow. She watched as it sputtered into life, creating instant shadow from the spilt light. She couldn’t look back at him yet. She needed to regain some sense of the control that his presence had undone.

  “Celebrating in the village.”

  “Leaving you alone? That is not good enough.”

  She plucked off her cloak and draped it over a wooden bench before the fire to dry, still with her back to him. “At high tide the castle causeway is impassable. I am perfectly safe. Besides, I think I can decide what is good enough for me.”

  She heard him follow her and stop before the fire but she suddenly felt unable to confront him. Not here, not where she could see him properly. She walked over to the chest, opened it and plucked out a second mazer cup and poured them both wine.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t find the silver cups. Are you hungry? You must have been riding long and hard. I have some supper here. I hope it’s enough.” She brought the food and wine to the table before the fire and laid them out, her eyes cast down, as if busy checking that all was in order for their supper.

  “Stop, Angel, turn to me.”

  She returned to the chest and took her time searching its contents.

  “There is more food in here somewhere. You should have told me you were coming. How far have you travelled did you say?” She could hear herself babbling but she couldn’t stop. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to see Guy de Lacey again.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Well, it must have been far. We are so isolated here. You—”

  Suddenly she felt his hands run up her arms. She closed her eyes tight and the lid of the chest slipped from her hands and banged shut.

  “Stop, Angel.” He turned her to face him, her eyes still shut and brought his hand to her chin and lifted it. “Stop. Look at me.”

  Slowly she opened her eyes, keeping her gaze lowered to his mouth: a firm line separating the softness of his lips within the closely cropped beard. She brought her hand to his beard and touched it. She couldn’t help herself.

  “Your beard—the texture is different, it’s changed.” Her fingers raked its depth, her fingertips moving lightly against his skin.

  “Seven years brings changes to a man.”

  “And to a woman.”

  His head moved under her hand. “No. Not to you.”

  She looked up into his eyes then. Hazel eyes that glowed golden and flickered with the reflections of the jumping flames of the rush lights that were beginning to lick into the cold air, consuming it and making it stronger by their heat. Just like him, she thought. If she let him, he’d consume her. And she couldn’t risk that.

  She turned away, drawing a deep, ragged breath as she went, and busied herself pouring wine into the cups. “I’ve changed, Guy. And you mustn’t think otherwise. Please, be seated. You must be hungry and tired.”

  “I was, but am no more. Now that I have you to feast my eyes on.”

  He stepped towards her. She didn’t turn around, she felt frozen, unable to move, even as his hands captured the long strands of hair on either side of her head that had escaped her widow’s coif. She tensed and closed her eyes at the wave of feeling his fingers created as they twirled the curls around his fingers, drawing his hand closer to her head, until his finger tips loosened the coif and it fell back, allowing her hair to tumble down into his hands. She could feel the heat of his breath upon the back of her head as if he were trying to breathe her in.

  Heat pooled in her stomach revealing a long-forgotten desire that she’d presumed dead. That it was still alive shocked her into movement. She put down the cups of wine that her trembling hands threatened to spill and turned to him, her hair falling around her face, untamed, loosed by his hands.

  “It’s your turn to stop. Now. Don’t you dare turn you charm on me again, Guy. You think you can come back here and seduce me after all these years? You think I’ve been waiting for this? Well, you’re wrong.”

  His eyes shone in the light, revealing that he knew her words to be lies. “Your hair is damp. I was merely freeing it from its bonds so it could dry.”

  “So considerate.” She handed him a cup of wine. “You would have me believe you have changed so much? I cannot.”

  His face was suddenly serious as he took the cup from her. “I was ever considerate of you. Of only you.”

  “So considerate you would declare your love for me and then leave me without a word.” She willed her hand not to tremble as she picked up her own cup.

  “I had no choice but to leave. I had nothing to give you.”

  “I wanted nothing.”

  “You didn’t know what you wanted. You were young. But I knew what you wanted, what you deserved. And it was more than the nothing you’d have got if you’d married me. Your father would have disinherited you from your lands; he would never have allowed us to marry. He needed you to marry a man of wealth to give substance to your titles. Your husband would adopt your name and you would receive his wealth.”

  Angelique felt a cold stillness invade her veins, as if a night had fallen that would never break. “I had no care for what my father wanted. He had no love for me. I would have trusted you with my life then, Guy. I offered you my life but you turned it down. Admit it, you wanted more than I could give. You wanted adventure, wealth, lands. Well, I hope you gained them.”

  “I have. And so have you.”

  “Oh yes. I’m a wealthy woman now my husband is dead.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “My loss? My loss, Guy?” Her words were barely audible through the bitterness that choked her tight lungs. “No, my gain. My gain. I earned my wealth and now I intend to keep it. I have my lands and my dower, thanks to the King.”

  “I was wrong. You have changed. You were never so mercenary, so unfeeling.”

  “You try and be caring about a man who abused me in the vilest way. You try and regret the death of a man whose only pleasure was in the pain he inflicted on others. I am glad he died. Because if he hadn’t, I would have.”

  He reached out to her but Angelique slapped his arm and stepped away, unable to look into his eyes because of the painful memories that flooded her mind.

  “I didn’t know—”

  “How could you? No-one but my closest servants knew.”

  “I would have returned.”

  “No you wouldn’t.”

  His hazel eyes turned fiery and his hand shot out and held hers with a grip from which she couldn’t have pulled away, even if she’d wanted to. And faced with the full strength of him, she didn’t want to. He’d broadened in the years since she’d seen him. Always tall, he now had the breadth to make him undeniably a powerful man. The hand that gripped hers was large, the muscles in his forearm bunched under tanned skin.

  “Woman, stop your recriminations and listen.”

  “I’m listening. Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what your purpose is.”

  “I’ve told you what my purpose is. I came to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “The King has rewarded me well for my years fighting with him in the Holy Land. And you are free now. I want you.”

  “You want me.” She nodded to herself, feeling her anger rising. “No, what you want is to own me. I know men now. I know what they want.”

  His eyes looked black under his lowering brow, full of anger and frustration.

  “Don’t presume to judge me by your knowledge of another, Angel.” His voice filled the room, as if he were commanding a legion of unruly soldiers.

  She knew what he felt because she felt it too. The anger continued to simmer but she could feel her need for him rise and mingle with it. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears and the heat rose, robbing her of her ease
of breath, making it come harder as each intense second passed as he looked into her soul. It was as if the flint walls receded leaving only her and him, alone, the only physical thing to overcome was their bodies. Madness. She shook her head. She had too much to lose.

  “I shall judge as I see fit.”

  “You’re wrong. I don’t want to own you. I want to marry you.”

  “Same thing.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “Yes it does. If I marry you I have no rights. You have control over me, over my lands. Why would I want to marry you? I have no need, no requirement to be married. I know marriage. And I want no more of it.”

  He reached over to her and pulled her to him. She felt his chest heave as he inhaled. Her own breathing came quickly, like a trapped animal sensing the worst. She felt his hands around her shoulders slip around and hold her. They trembled slightly. “What happened to you, Angel?”

  She settled then. “Life happened. I married. I grew up.” She looked up at him their eyes meeting in a mutual wariness. “I wish for no more marriage, Guy.”

  “But I hear the King wishes you to marry.”

  She smiled then for the first time. “I have come to an arrangement with the King. I have paid for my freedom.”

  Just saying it gave her the strength to pull away from him and sit down. She indicated he should sit in the chair opposite. He searched her eyes for a long moment before sitting down heavily in the carved chair. He picked up his wine and took a long drink, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt his presence pressing against her as surely as his hands had.

  She did not drink but returned his gaze levelly, with the strength gained from years of assuming an impassive face before her jealous husband.