by Alexa Aston
He placed the girl gently back into the basket and rose. Nan wrapped the blanket around her protectively.
“Something tells me that you have found the newest de Montfort, Nan. This child will be your sister. You’ve been close to Hal and Edward since they were near your age and they’ve influenced you quite a bit. I think ’twill be good for you to have a sister to care for.”
Nan knew how much her mother loved babes. Her parents had recently returned from visiting their first grandchildren, Philippa and Wyatt. Her sister, Alys, had given birth to the twins in March and had begged them to visit. Nan had chosen to remain at Kinwick, having no interest in people who couldn’t talk or walk, much less how all the conversations her mother and Alys had seemed to revolve around herbs and healing.
But this babe called out to something deep within her. Though she had no interest in the womanly arts, Nan felt a strong pull toward this child.
“If we cannot find her parents, can I name her?” she asked.
Geoffrey lifted the basket by its handle and smiled down at the babe. “I think she’d like that.”
“Jessimond,” Nan said. “I want to call her Jessimond.”
Chapter 1
Sandbourne—April, 1388
Tristan Therolde urged his horse on, impatient to reach Sandbourne and see the horseflesh available there. He’d become interested in breeding horses and both Stephen and Toby encouraged him in this pursuit. He glanced to where both men rode to his left and right and tamped down the emotion that threatened to flare up. These two knights had fostered with him. They had known one another since they were boys polishing armor and running errands, as all pages did. Other than Dawkin, his captain of the guard at Thorpe Castle, these men were the only ones he trusted.
Life had taught him to be guarded.
“That should be it,” called out Toby as he pointed straight ahead.
Tristan picked up the pace. The sooner they arrived at Sandbourne and he conducted his business, the sooner they could return to Leventhorpe lands. He never fully relaxed outside the walls of Thorpe Castle—and was only beginning to learn to do so inside them.
The trio approached the gates. Tristan spoke to the gatekeeper, who knew they were expected, and open the gates for them to enter. The outer bailey buzzed with activity as they passed from it into the inner bailey. He saw an elegantly dressed woman awaiting them at the keep and motioned for his men to follow him to where she stood.
As they approached, Tristan assessed her as he did everyone that crossed his path. She was taller than the average female, with a willowy frame and a long blond braid that skirted her waist. Mayhap two score or a bit more, her radiant beauty still shone brightly.
He dismounted and went to greet her as his knights remained in the saddle.
“Greetings, my lord,” she said in a low voice. “I am Lady Elysande Devereux, Countess of Sandbourne. I assume you are Lord Tristan Therolde, Earl of Leventhorpe.”
He kissed the proffered hand. “Aye, my lady, here to spend time with your husband and see his horses, which I hear are some of the best in southern England.”
She laughed. “You mean my horses? And to be clear, my lord, they are the best in all of England.”
Tristan frowned at her presumptuous words. “I corresponded with Lord Michael Devereux regarding the matter,” he said curtly.
He recalled during a brief trip to London hearing that Sandbourne’s horses were the best to be had but also something about the earl’s wife knowing much about horses. Tristan had brushed that off as ignorant gossip. A woman knowing more than a man about anything bordered on the ridiculous.
“True,” the noblewoman acknowledged. “You wrote to Michael and he respectfully answered your missive.” Her eyes blazed. “But if you wish to discuss horses and consider purchasing any, you will deal directly with me, my lord.”
His temper flared. “See here, Lady Elysande—”
She held up a hand and he bit back the unflattering words about to fly from his mouth. If these horses were as good as others claimed, it wouldn’t do to insult Lord Michael’s wife. Some women had wormed their way into their husband’s heart and whispered into their ear in order to have their say. This lady seemed as one who might be one of those. Disappointment filled him, for he had been looking forward to meeting Devereux after hearing so many complimentary things about the nobleman.
A stern look crossed her face and color heightened her cheeks. “You are a guest, my lord, and will be accorded every courtesy, but one thing must remain perfectly clear from the start of our conversation. I will be the one who decides if you are worthy to purchase any horse from our stable. I am the one who breeds and trains every horse sired at Sandbourne. I have taught my husband much about horseflesh over the years, but he will be the one to confirm to you that I control everything regarding Sandbourne’s stables.”
Then she gave him a sweet smile. “I know many men do not hold women in high esteem, nor do they believe that a woman can be an expert on anything beyond birthing babes or weaving tapestries. You will find things very different at Sandbourne.” She paused. “I hope we have not gotten off on the wrong foot, my lord. Why don’t we take your horses to be watered and fed and you can look over some of our mounts? We can also go to the enclosure, where more of our horses are kept.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Tristan had the good sense to offer her his arm while he kept his horse’s reins in his free hand. He did not bother to glance at either Stephen or Toby, knowing both knights probably hid smiles after listening to him being dressed down by this woman. If he liked any of their available horses, he would see that he purchased them—even if he had to grovel to Lady Elysande.
He also had something else on his mind and would see if that, too, could be accomplished during this brief visit to Sandbourne. The time drew near for his sister to be betrothed and wed. At ten and seven, Gillian was already a grown woman, both beautiful and sweet-natured. Tristan rarely ventured from his estate and hadn’t made the appropriate contacts necessary in order to arrange a desirable match for her. If Lord Michael had any sons that would make for a good husband, Tristan would discuss an agreement between them.
As they strolled to the stables, Lady Elysande pointed out things along the way and was greeted in a friendly manner by everyone they passed. Though she had been sharp with him, the noblewoman spoke to those working at the castle with kindness—and that courtesy was returned. It wasn’t hard to see that she was beloved by her workers. That spoke in her favor. Still, it confused him why her husband would allow her to be in charge of such a vital part of his estate. Mayhap Lord Michael simply let his wife think she was and fooled her into believing she had control over the horses they bred and sold.
A cheer went up as they came to the training yard. An archery contest appeared to be occurring in the sectioned off butts. Knowing how Toby enjoyed showing his prowess with a bow and arrow, he looked to his friend and saw a huge grin on his face.
Lady Elysande must have seen it, too, for she said, “If you wish, my lord, your men can allow our stable hands to care for their horses so they might remain in the training yard. Would you care to do so?” she asked his men.
“Aye, my lady,” responded Toby with enthusiasm. “I am Sir Toby. This is Sir Stephen. We would very much like to watch—and mayhap participate—in this contest.”
Tristan grimaced. He should have introduced his men when they arrived but Lady Elysande had thrown him so that he’d neglected his good manners. Not that he used them much anymore. He dined alone every meal and rarely met with others in the nobility. His manners had grown rusty with disuse. He hoped that wouldn’t reflect upon him poorly when it came time to negotiate a price regarding horseflesh.
“I am pleased to meet you both,” she said graciously. She lifted her hand from where it rested on Tristan’s arm. “Give me your reins and tell me your horses’ names. I will see they are cared for.”
Both men introduced their hor
ses to her as if they were allowing her to meet people for the first time. She stroked each horse and spoke directly to it and then asked the knights questions about their mounts. Satisfied with their answers, she dismissed them and they eagerly hurried to the butts.
As they led the three horses to the stables, she said, “And what of your horse, my lord? What can you tell me about him?”
Tristan groaned inwardly but pushed forward, intending to humor her. He told her the horse’s name, making one up on the spot since he’d never bothered to name the creature before now. He shared where he’d bought the animal and a little about its sire and dam.
“But what else? What does he like to eat? What little treats do you spoil him with? Does he enjoy cantering or a full gallop? Are his bowel movements regular?”
Tristan looked blankly at her. He couldn’t answer any of those questions.
Lady Elysande gave him a withering look. “I am not quite sure why you have come to Sandbourne, my lord. You say you are interested in breeding and training horses. I only sell a small part of my stock each year and then only to a select few. Why should I allow you to purchase any horse at all when you come to me so ill prepared?”
“Because I need something to occupy my time,” he admitted gruffly. “I’m not much for being around people. I thought spending my time with horses would prove worthwhile.”
Her whole being changed as she bestowed a radiant smile upon him. “That is the first honest thing that has come from you. Horses can do so much for humans. They can befriend us. Nurture us. Even heal us.” She studied him for a long moment. “I think you have been deeply hurt, my lord. I promise you that working with horses will be the first step on your road to recovery.”
He visibly cringed at her response.
“You may have revealed more to me than you would have chosen, Lord Tristan,” she said softly, “but you have come to the right place. I hope you choose to spend some time at Sandbourne.”
They led the horses to the entrance of the stables. Tristan remained silent, feeling naked after what had passed between them. Two lads met them and Lady Elysande instructed them on the names of each horse and the preferences she’d learned from Toby and Stephen before the boys led the three animals away.
“Let’s start in the stables and then go to the meadow,” she suggested.
Tristan let her lead him about, discovering she was a fount of knowledge. Within minutes, he learned that stallions usually would breed a mare in the summer and that the gestation lasted around eleven months, leading to foals being born in the spring and early summer. Though a stallion could breed as early as two years of age, Lady Elysande recommended waiting until the male turned four because early breeding could affect the growth of any offspring. The same held true for mares, which could carry a foal by the time they turned eighteen months, but the noblewoman also liked to wait until they were more mature.
“Foals can walk and then even run a few hours after birth. Though they drink plenty of their mother’s milk, they also might nibble at hay or grass,” she shared.
“So this is a busy time of year for you,” Tristan said. By now, he did not question that this woman knew exactly what she spoke of. He regretted questioning her authority and would do whatever it took to get in her good graces.
“Aye. I have spent several nights in the stables recently with mares ready to deliver or even with those in the enclosed meadow. Michael is good enough to wait with me each time. In fact, ’tis how we met. The first time we saw one another, I was helping to deliver a foal. Michael jumped right in without any previous experience.” She smiled. “He has been by my side ever since.”
They came to a large stall with a golden mare whose belly was so large that she looked ready to give birth at any moment. Beside her stood a tall man with dark hair, stroking the horse gently.
“That’s a good girl,” he crooned and then looked up. “Hello, Mother.”
“Lord Tristan Therolde, I’d like you to meet my oldest child, David. He has recently been knighted and returned to live at Sandbourne.”
“’Tis a pleasure to meet you, my lord. Mother says you’ve come to look at our horses.”
“Aye, Sir David. And learn. I fear my knowledge regarding horses is limited.”
The young knight laughed. “Mother has forgotten more than most people will ever know about horses. She will be an excellent tutor for you.”
“David has been assisting me with the births since his return.”
“And I plan on helping her to train the new foals, as well. I love horses as much as Mother does and that’s saying quite a bit.”
Tristan found himself drawn to the man’s genial manner and smile. A handsome knight from a good family would be the perfect man for Gillian to partner with. Though Lady Elysande seemed a bit unconventional, Tristan knew she would be a welcoming mother-in-law. He would broach the issue when the time came and hope that David Devereux was not already betrothed or married.
“Send word if any difficulties arise. I’m going to escort Lord Tristan to the enclosure.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, my lord. I will see you at the evening meal,” David told him. “That is, if this beautiful lady has given birth by that time.” He gave the mare a fond pat.
Tristan and Lady Elysande left the stables. As they drew near the training yard, a loud series of cheers broke out, drawing his curiosity. He wondered if Toby had been able to participate in the contest.
“We can always visit the meadow later,” the countess told him. “I hope you will remain at Sandbourne for a few weeks. Shall we see how the archery contest fares instead?”
“I would like that, my lady.”
Tristan led her to the butts. A ring of soldiers encircled the area. He saw Toby with a bow in hand, determination on his face as he drew back the string and let the arrow sail. The arrow struck close to the center of the target and the men applauded his effort. A second man joined him and Toby stepped aside. His arrow also hit the target but landed almost dead center. More shouts of encouragement exploded.
He figured it came down to these two men as to which one might win the competition. After each one shot twice more, the Sandbourne man threw his bow to the ground and his hands in the air, happiness spreading across his lean face.
“It looks as if we have a new champion for this week. Well done, Hervey.”
Tristan assumed the man speaking was the Earl of Sandbourne. Well over six feet, he had broad shoulders and piercing blue eyes. Not much would get past this man, who looked to be two score and five.
“He’s not a true champion,” someone hollered from the crowd. “He ain’t beat the de Montfort!”
At once, the name de Montfort began to be chanted by all those present. Calls for the de Montfort continued as men stomped their feet and clapped their hands.
“Enough!” cried Lord Michael, trying to hide a smile and losing that particular battle. He glanced to the crowd at his right. “Would you like to participate?”
A slightly built man stepped forward and nodded, his head down as if embarrassed at all of the sudden attention. Wild applause erupted as he stepped to where the soldier named Hervey stood. Tristan read the doubt creeping into the man’s eyes. This de Montfort must be quite skilled to have the support of all those gathered and cause a skilled soldier who’d just won an archery contest to question himself.
Then the newcomer turned to pick up a bow. Tristan caught sight of a dark as night braid that whipped around.
A braid?
He studied the person more carefully and found it wasn’t a man at all. It was a woman—dressed as a man. She wore an oversized tunic of dark brown and baggy black pants. She reached down and slipped off her shoes, tossing them and a blade aside. More cheers broke out as Tristan caught sight of a shapely ankle for a moment. Then she wiggled her toes and seemed to grip the very ground under her with them.
The group grew silent as a young boy wheeled out a new target. Concentration filled the w
oman’s face as she studied it. Her slender body seemed as taut as the bowstring she pulled back. Without warning, her arrow flew through the air.
And hit dead center.
She gave a brief nod to the crowd acknowledging her effort and then stepped aside so her challenger could take his turn. They alternated until each had sent five arrows to the target, with the same boy hurrying out and moving the target further away after each shot an arrow. By the time the match ended, four of her arrows clustered together so tightly around the bullseye, Tristan didn’t see how there could be any space between them. The fifth had split one of those arrows straight down the middle. Hervey, while coming close, never stood a chance against his competitor.
Chants of de Montfort began again. Tristan watched as the soldiers hoisted the woman up in the air and paraded her around the butts. He found himself breathing normally again after holding his breath each time she fired an arrow.
Then she passed by, high above him. She looked down and their eyes met. Hers were a startling blue, like two sapphires in her heart-shaped face. Tristan’s heart slammed against his ribs as he watched the cheering men carry her off.
Turning to Lady Elysande, he asked, “Who was that?”
“My cousin. Nan de Montfort.”
Chapter 2
Nan demanded that the soldiers return her to the ground since she had a low tolerance for being the center of attention. They did as she requested. A grinning page held up her boots and baselard. Nan accepted them and plopped on the ground in order to put the boots back on. By the time she stood and slipped her dagger into its resting place inside the boot, most of the men in the butts had scattered. They had gone back to their training exercises in the yard, paired off as they wielded swords and maces under the watchful eye of Michael and his captain of the guard. Two pages collected the targets that had been used in the archery contest, pulling the arrows from them. She gathered her own bow and set of arrows and decided to return to the keep.
