The Gentle Knight (The Norman Conquest Book 2)

by Ashley York

  “What do you find so interesting to say to my betrothed that you need to speak in whispers?”

  “Peter,” Brighit said. “You’re being silly. Sean is like a brother to me.”

  He glanced at the man with narrowed eyes before turning back to her. “Hear me. He is not thinking of you as a sister.”

  Sean took a hard swing at the side of Peter’s head which he dodged with little difficulty. Peter shoved him away.

  Sean barely lost his footing, straightened his tunic, then laughed. “Beware, Brighit. I think you may be marrying an animal rather than a man.”

  “Enough!” Peter’s voice boomed. His patience was gone.

  “This one seems a little short-tempered, Brig. Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake with him?”

  When she glanced Peter’s way, he clearly read the message that she wondered the same thing. He swallowed hard.

  Red moved closer to her, lowering his gaze. “Any one of us would gladly accept you to wife regardless of... of any situation you may be in.”

  “That’s true enough.” Sean slipped his arm around her shoulder. When they started to lead her to the door at the far end of the hall, Peter decided he could take no more.

  “Tadhg! Either call off your lackeys or I will take them down myself. I am taking Brighit to wife and your men will not change that.” Peter glanced at the other men as he spoke. “I will not allow that.”

  Sean crossed his arms. “You? You will not allow that? Are you daft? It’s her choice, man. None of us would gainsay our sweet Brighit’s decision.” His expression softened when he turned to her. “Whatever you say, we’ll abide by it.”

  Brighit looked lost. Ruth came in, her babe tightly held in her arms. “I hope we are not too late to join in the blessing.”

  Martha’s eyes crinkled at the corner with her smile as she joined her. “Oh. Wonderful.” She turned toward Brighit. “Ruth and I were just discussing the great plans God has for you.”

  All fell silent. Peter had pushed his way to Brighit’s side. He refused to leave it. Her warm hand, so small in his own, trembled at his touch. No matter what was pronounced as God’s plans, he would be taking her to wife—and his bed—anon.

  “Good to see you again, Sir Peter,” Ruth said. She tipped her head toward Brighit. “Have you won over our fair lady?”

  Relieved to have a possible ally, Peter smiled. “I’m afraid her clan wishes she would choose another.”

  She handed her babe to Brighit. They exchanged smiles. Ruth approached the men and curtsied. “I am glad you are all here for this auspicious occasion. A wedding is not often seen at a place where nuns dwell. Will you be joining us in the blessing? I believe it will be at the chapel.”

  “No!” Sean spoke up. “She’ll not be marrying him until she tells us it is what she chooses.”

  Peter knew there was no choice here. Tadhg was forcing her to marry Peter. Could she now have an opening to break it off? Fear slithered through his gut. Fear of losing what he’d only recently realized he wanted. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything. Yes, he’d deeply cared for Jeanette. He’d thought it was love but this was different. He wanted to protect Brighit, to please her, to make her smile. To grow old with her. And children? Yes. He wanted her to birth his children and he would pray every day—every minute—that it would not kill her. He wanted to take the leap of faith required to take this woman as his wife. To make her the mother of his children.

  He waited for her answer, praying that, even though she didn’t love him, barely even knew him, she would honor her brother. Honor him as determinedly as she had honored her father.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The tension was thick and the babe began to cry in response. Its strong voice filling the space.

  Brighit quickly offered her back to her mother. “I believe she wants something from you.”

  Ruth accepted the bundle. “Oh, but I want to be at the chapel with you.” She snuggled the babe close. It immediately quieted down.

  Brighit glanced at her brother and clan members, her face tight with concern. “I’m not—”

  Peter moved nearer to her. “Please, Brighit.” His voice was quiet. “Let it stand.”

  Ruth and Martha shifted uncomfortably as if a fight was ensuing that they preferred not to be a part of. A marital argument. Brighit nearly gasped at the idea.

  “No.”

  Sean’s face lit up. “No? You don’t wish to be wed to this Norman?”

  “This is not right,” Brighit said.

  Tadhg came alongside her. “It is not up for discussion.” He glanced toward Sean. “You’ve had your say. She doesn’t have a choice. She’ll obey as she always does.”

  Brighit’s teeth ground against each other. It was always the way of it. She was a good daughter. A good sister. She would do as she was told. A fuss was never stirred by her. She was obedient. Her jaw ached with the tension.

  The other men were glancing toward each other. Toward Tadhg. Peter’s eyes were on her alone. Unwavering. Searching her face as if he could know what was in her mind. The inner corners of his eyebrows raised as if in sympathy. Almost as if he’d discovered her well-hidden anger and resentment. Warmth radiated through her chest. He recognized she was angry enough to spit.

  When he dipped his head, she felt the loss of his sympathy. She’d felt less alone when she thought he understood.

  He turned to Tadhg. “Would you give us a moment to speak alone?”

  A loud eruption of objections bounced against the walls and the babe wailed again.

  “He shouldn’t be alone with her.”

  “She doesn’t know her own mind.”

  “How can you think to force her into marriage?”

  Without saying a word, Tadhg raised his hand and the hall full of men fell silent save for the child.

  Ruth bounced the babe trying to quiet her down then with a shrug and a smile, she said. “I will go see to her.”

  Tadhg watched her and the child leave before turning back to Peter. “We will remove ourselves so that you may speak.”

  Objections arose again but Tadhg strode with purpose to the far side of the hall and his men followed.

  Peter turned her to him. He was all she could see. He pulled her in close.

  “None of that!” Sean said from the across the room.

  Peter withdrew slightly but kept his hand at her waist, out of sight within her cloak.

  “What vexes you so? That I will do this? Or that it comes from your brother rather than from me?”

  The strike of a hammer on an anvil seemed to ring in her ears. He knew. He knew just how she was feeling. He knew exactly what bothered her.

  “My lord,” Brighit said but he placed his warm hand against her cheek, immediately disorienting her.

  Her eyes closed unbidden. His touch sent heat to every part of her. She opened her eyes. His smile was no less than the sunshine on her face. She sighed in defeat.

  “Why do you not just tell them nothing happened?”

  “They would not believe me. And something did happen. You know that.”

  And if what they had both wanted had happened, if he had been less of a gentleman, they would be going through this anyway.

  “Methinks this is unfair.” He should not be forced to marry when he did not want that.

  If he was willing to do this, who was she to say no? No to a chance to love him truly? No to the fulfillment of a dream? No when she knew in her heart that she loved this man?

  It felt as if he had always held a secret place in her heart. The secret place needing only to be awakened by him. By his touch. By his smile. His arrival in her life had been planned long ago.

  If she were completely honest with herself, she would admit she wanted to be married to him. She wanted to bear his children. She wanted to make him as happy as his mere smile did for her.

  Brighit sighed in defeat. “As you wish, my lord.”

  He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before
brushing her lips with his own.

  “We’ll have no more of that.” This time it was Tadhg’s voice that carried across the hall. “I believe that’s what has gotten you into this predicament to begin with.”

  Peter winked, a mischievous look on his face. He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, then turned to face his future brother-in-law. “Let us proceed.”

  The walk to the chapel seemed to take an eternity. The sounds around Brighit became muffled. The faces of the smiling sisters around them seemed distant even as they surrounded her, guiding her to a little room behind the altar. It was tiny with just enough room for three of them. Ruth had returned and, with Martha, pulled off Brighit’s dress. The touch of the cold air on her skin seemed as if it were happening to someone else. Martha pushing down a chemise that smelled of lilacs. Its flimsy material confusing Brighit. When she looked down at herself, it was as if she wore nothing at all.

  The thought of protesting vanished when the softest material she’d ever felt was being pulled over her head. Its blue color was the same as a robin’s eggs. It slipped over her hips, just touching the tips of her feet. Martha helped her into doeskin slippers.

  “You look lovely.” Their exclamations seemed a step behind their jubilant expressions.

  Brighit rubbed her eyes. Their laughter erupted in the small chamber.

  Ruth was brushing her hair. Martha was using a cloth on her face.

  “You’re pale. Do not worry so.” The older woman moved close to her ear. “I know Peter will be kind to you.”

  The reality of what she implied was like a slap in the face. “You know?”

  “What do you speak of?”

  “That the deed has not been done?”

  Martha tipped her head with that knowing smile.

  Then Ruth stood beside her with that same smile. “It is as I said.”

  “And I still should go through with this?”

  Ruth hugged her close. “Yes.”

  The door opened and she stepped into the dimly lit room. Peter sat over a small table topped with quill and ink. Tadhg bent over to watch him as he signed the document then rocked a small, curved board over the vellum. When he stood, he clasped hands with her brother. Peter smiled and surveyed the document as if surveying a great deed he had accomplished.

  “Sister. You look lovely.” Tadhg’s familiar voice seemed to break the spell. He stepped forward and took her hands. He kissed her lightly on the cheek as he had before she departed from Ireland. That seemed like years ago. So much had transpired.

  Peter surveyed her. His chest seeming to fill then bashfully took one hand. “May we partake of the Lord’s supper to seal our bond?”

  “Who will serve—?”

  “I have it prepared.” Martha stepped forward. “God’s blessing will be upon this marriage.”

  Tadhg put his arm around his sister opposite Peter and stepped with them to the small altar. A single candle flickered. Martha came forward for the blessing, broke the bread and blessed the cup, then offered it to all present. Her Latin was impeccable. She would be a splendid Prioress.

  Then with the Holy Scriptures in her hands, she tipped her head and smiled. “Where two or more are gathered in His name, His holy presence is assured. Let us speak the prayer Jesus taught us.”

  Fæder ure þu þe eart on heofonum

  Si þin nama gehalgod

  to becume þin rice

  gewurþe ðin willa

  on eorðan swa swa on heofonum.

  urne gedæghwamlican hlaf syle us todæg

  and forgyf us ure gyltas

  swa swa we forgyfað urum gyltendum

  and ne gelæd þu us on costnunge

  ac alys us of yfele soþlice

  “Amen.”

  They all raised their heads and glanced at each other, not quite certain what should happen next.

  “May God add His blessing on this marriage,” Martha said, her voice as confident as any Priest’s blessing. She turned first to Brighit. “You may kiss your husband.” Then to Peter. “And you may kiss your wife.”

  Tadhg stepped away from the couple as a symbol of his acceptance of the joining. He stood beside the Nuns, glancing between them with a smile.

  Peter wrapped his arms around Brighit and pulled her against him with great reverence. He searched her face, then lowered his lips to hers. She closed her eyes and allowed the touch of her husband’s lips, with its radiant heat, to spread throughout her body.

  When he released her, Brighit’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled. “I love you.”

  Those around them erupted into cheering but the look of shock on Peter’s face made her breath catch. When she’d closed her eyes, she decided she would tell him how she felt. She expected nothing in return but wanted there to be truth in their marriage.

  “The feast awaits,” Martha announced then led the way out of the chapel.

  The others surrounded Brighit and Peter, ushering them into the Great Hall which had been transformed. Its high ceiling was decorated with the greens of the forest. The trestle tables covered with fall leaves of every hue. The table that ran along one side was near to overflowing with a roasted pig, a pheasant stuffed with a chicken which was stuffed with a smaller hen, and three different salted fish. Along with orange, green, and red fruits which they must have stolen from their winter stores, and winter vegetables of every shape and size. Sweets lined one end with liquid libations of mead, beer, and cider lining the other.

  At the head table, which was covered with a white linen cloth, sat a great pot set right in the middle, still steaming.

  “How did you possibly manage all this?” Brighit couldn’t believe what she saw around her.

  “You helped.” Martha smiled.

  “When did I help?”

  Martha walked her to the head table so she could look inside the heavy pot.

  “Soup!” Brighit cried out then hugged Martha tightly.

  “It had been so long that we had anything to celebrate here that we started it all upon your arrival. It was only readied this morning.” Martha said.

  Brighit turned to Peter, beaming. “This soup was my first duty here.”

  “And the last,” Ruth offered.

  The sudden tightness in Brighit’s chest felt like she’d had too many frights. One gasp followed by another, followed by another, and she couldn’t exhale.

  “Greetings.”

  Mort stood in the doorway dressed for battle. Chain mail covered his body. A helmet tucked under his arm. A look of confusion flashed across his face and then his eyes met Peter’s. He lifted a hand then crossed the room with great comportment, his sword hanging from his waist, a dagger tucked into his leather gauntlet.

  Peter perused his attire, a horn of mead in his grip. “Mort, why the change in clothing? Hopefully you haven’t dressed so on our account. Although the gesture is certainly appreciated.”

  “Are they celebrating our Brighit’s taking her vows so soon?”

  “Not even close,” Sean said. He stood beside the table passing cups of beer around.

  “We’ve seen her wed.” Tadhg lifted his cup, the other men did the same before emptying their cups.

  “Wed?” Mort screwed his face up in confusion. “How can a nun get married?”

  “When she doesn’t take her vows but gets married instead,” Sean said and refilled their cups. He lifted one toward Mort who waved his hand to decline.

  “I abstain when preparing for battle.”

  “Battle?” Peter’s enjoyment was replaced by serious concern.

  Mort tipped his head to the side. “Alas, my friend, I didn’t happen upon this celebration but have come to retrieve you. Lord John arrived at the inn and wishes to see you immediately.”

  “John is here?” Peter’s cup nearly dropped from his hand. “He wants to see me—now?”

  Brighit warmed at the thought of him not wanting to leave her so soon. Now? Her heart dropped to her stomach.

  Mort reach
ed toward them both, as if wavering between which arm to reassure. “Please. No. I am certain he would not want to take you away from... he would not interrupt... he does not know of this turn of events.”

  Peter placed the cup on the table behind him. “When did he arrive?”

  “It was two days ago.”

  “Yes. When we were snowed in.”

  “It was the night you left for the Priory. He actually arrived ahead of his men—”

  “He has brought his men?”

  “Yes, my lord, he has come to support you in your siege against the castle. King William could wait no longer for information. We are to lay siege immediately.”

  Peter sighed and Brighit could feel his tension rising. Her own hope was quickly evaporating.

  “Very good timing I must say.”

  “How so?” Peter’s voice indicated his own disagreement with Mort’s statement.

  “He arrived at the inn just as our local ruffians had reinforcements.”

  “Reinforcements? I had no idea. I’m sure you were handling them well enough on your own.”

  Mort reddened slightly. “Well, yes, my lord, I had them well in hand but I have to say it was a much more enjoyable encounter with John present. We made quick work of them.”

  Peter laughed. “I imagine you did. And what word is there now?”

  The two walked toward the door leaving Brighit quite bereft. Mayhap Peter was going to continue out that door at this very moment with ner a glance back or another thought for his bride.

  Ruth came alongside and extended her sleeping bundle. “I’ve named her Brighit so that I will never forget you.”

  She was the slightest, little thing, weighing next to nothing. Brighit smiled. “That is very kind of you.” She glanced toward Peter’s disappearing figure. “I may not be needing to be remembered.”

  Ruth glanced toward the empty doorway. “I do not understand.”

  She shook her head before smiling at the baby, moving in close to her face. “You are so sweet.” Little Brighit’s lip moved up and down as if nursing in her sleep. “She is truly beautiful.”