by Alexa Aston
Because she definitely wanted to meet the stranger that had stood next to Elysande.
It hadn’t surprised Nan to see an unfamiliar face at Sandbourne. People constantly came and went at the estate, most of them interested in viewing the group of horses Elysande had assembled through years of buying and breeding. She and Michael had been wed over a score and had built what Nan heard many say was the finest stable in England. Consequently, many noblemen ventured to Sandbourne trying to purchase a Devereux horse.
The newcomer had to be one of those men.
Deciding to check on Nightfoot before she washed away the day’s sweat and grime, Nan headed toward the stables. She found her horse hanging his head over the stall’s door as he gazed at the horse directly across from him like some love-struck fool.
Laughing, she threw her arms around the stallion’s neck and gave him a kiss. “How’s my sweet Nightfoot? Have you made any progress with your new lady friend?” she asked playfully.
The horse snorted and she chuckled. Nan went inside the stall and brushed him for several minutes, promising to return tomorrow for a long ride.
As she left the stall, she heard a shout and went running. She found a stable hand already there and heard David telling the boy to fetch the countess at once. The boy ran off and Nan poked her head inside.
“Something wrong with Ginger?”
“She’s in a bit of distress,” her cousin shared. “Nothing I couldn’t handle but you know how involved Mother is with her horses. If anything did go wrong during the birth and I’d neglected to summon her, it would be my head on a platter,” he joked.
Nan opened the stall door and joined him, noting how restless Ginger seemed as she paced around the enlarged area. The horse’s flanks glistened with sweat. She pawed the ground several times and then lay down, immediately rising and pacing again.
“I think I’ll take her out to the pasture,” David said. “I believe the open space would be beneficial to her, especially if there’s a breeze outside. It might bring her some relief.”
“Is she trying to position the foal?” Nan asked, having learned something about horses from Elysande over the years.
“Aye. It may calm her to have more room. Some horses like being out of doors when they give birth.” He slid a rope around Ginger’s neck and knotted it. “Come on, girl. Let’s find you a place to have your little foal.”
David led the mare from the stall. Nan made sure to give the two of them plenty of space to pass, knowing how temperamental a horse about to give birth could be.
“Will you tell Mother where we’ve gone?”
“I’ll wait for her at the entrance to the stables to make sure I don’t miss seeing her,” she promised.
Nan stroked Ginger once as David slowly moved her along. She followed them from the stables and watched as they crossed the bailey and then took up her watch, waiting for Elysande. Within minutes, her cousin appeared.
“David took Ginger out to pasture,” Nan explained. “Her waxing has begun but the membrane hadn’t ruptured yet.”
“Thank you for letting me know. Would you mind telling Michael where I am? I know he’s busy with the men now but he will want to know.”
“Of course.” She paused. “And what of your visitor?”
Elysande frowned, distracted, and then said, “Oh, Lord Tristan. I told him where I’d be for the remainder of the day. He’s a grown man and can entertain himself.”
“Is he here to purchase a horse or two?”
Elysande’s brows rose. “We’ll see.” She took off for the meadow in long strides.
Nan knew how those who came to purchase a Sandbourne horse had to win Elysande’s trust before she would let any horse leave the estate. By the look on her cousin’s face, this nobleman had yet to prove his worth. Shrugging to herself, Nan returned to the training yard and motioned Michael over.
“Something wrong?” he asked, alert to her mood.
“Ginger is having a bit of difficulty. David took her to the enclosure and Elysande is with them now. She wanted you to be aware of her location.”
He laughed. “Because she’ll want my company—and expects me to bring her food. Birthing a foal can take many hours. My wife has the patience of Job while she’s with her horses but she never likes to miss a meal if she can help it.”
Michael called over Sir Imbert. “Take over for me, Imbert,” he told his captain of the guard. “Lady Elysande has a mare needing to foal. I will be with her for most of what is left of the day.”
“Aye, my lord.” Imbert flashed Nan a smile. “Nice shooting today, my lady.”
“Thank you, Imbert. Hervey was quite good. He’s made marked improvement in the last week since I’ve returned to Sandbourne.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.” Imbert nodded and returned to the men.
Nan accompanied Michael back to the keep. They both went to the kitchens. The earl asked for a basket of food and wine to be prepared for a foaling and the kitchen maid knew exactly what to put inside. Nan knew this must be a frequent occurrence at Sandbourne. For herself, she asked for hot water to be sent up for a bath.
She went to her bedchamber and opened the small trunk that had accompanied her from Kinwick. It contained gypons in several colors and a few pairs of pants, along with a handful of cotehardies. She lifted one out, a pale blue that she had worn to Hal and Elinor’s wedding not two weeks ago, and smiled. Her brother had fallen in love with a woman falconer. Hal had always attracted flocks of women with his good looks and easy charm, but Nan could see the difference in him whenever he was in Elinor’s presence. Not only had he matured, but Hal was definitely a man in love.
For her part, Nan adored this new sister-in-law. Elinor had a gentle spirit and usually dressed as Nan herself did since it was easier to work with raptors in men’s clothing than while wearing smocks and sideless surcoats. Before the wedding, she and Elinor had spent some time together and enjoyed one another’s company immensely. Then the gaggle of de Montfort relatives had descended and Nan had seen Elinor swept away, each woman eagerly fighting to find time alone with the bride-to-be. Nan finally gave up and let the others dominate Elinor’s time since she knew eventually all these women would go home. Once Nan returned to Kinwick, she wouldn’t have to compete with everyone for a piece of Elinor.
Except for Hal, of course.
She loved all three of her brothers fiercely. Had actually worshipped Ancel as if he were a god. Ancel was a dozen years her senior and Nan thought he could do anything. She was closest in age to Edward, who was only three years older than she, and had begun following him around from the time she could walk. Since Edward forever shadowed Hal, Nan chased after them both. It had been Hal, five years her elder, who’d patiently taught both her and Edward everything important. How to fish. How to swim. How to hunt. How to whistle. Hal had told them both stories and even helped Nan learn how to read.
When she turned six and Raynor had crafted a wooden sword for her, as he did for every de Montfort child, Hal had been the one to patiently thrust and parry with her long after Raynor instructed her on the basics and returned home to Ashcroft. More importantly, Hal had been the brother who first put a bow in her hands. He had started her with a crossbow because it didn’t require any upper body strength to shoot. Once Nan became proficient with it, Hal had moved on and had Nan take up a bow and arrow.
Life had never been the same since.
When she held the weapon in her hand, be it a regular bow or longbow, it brought her peace and a sense of power. Her bow and arrows had become her constant companions when Hal and Edward were both away fostering at Winterbourne. Nan had roamed Kinwick high and low with these in hand. She had devoted hours upon hours practicing until she could hit a target every time with confidence. And while she always looked forward to the summer break when Edward came home, it was Hal who Nan felt closest to.
Placing the sky blue cotehardie trimmed with gold on her bed, she chose a gold smock to place unde
r it. She knew the color of the dress would enhance her eyes and she wanted to look her best tonight for this Lord Tristan. Why, she couldn’t say. She hadn’t spoken to him yet and had no idea where he lived or what he was like.
But something in his eyes intrigued her when she’d passed by him.
Mayhap it was the surprise that showed on his face. More than likely, he was one of those men who doubted a woman could do much of anything. For that alone, she wanted to look her best and show him how wrong he was. Yet Nan believed there was more to it. She’d always been good at reading people, as clearly as someone who might read a book. She could look at a person and make sense of him or her without ever having spoken to them.
When she glimpsed Lord Tristan for that brief moment, she saw he wore an air of deep sadness, much as if it wrapped about him like a cloak. Something made Nan want to bring him relief and put a smile on his face. His extremely handsome face.
Why on earth would she think of that?
True, the nobleman was attractive. No woman could miss that. But Nan wasn’t most women. She never really looked at a man as other women did. She had never been interested in a man physically, other than to categorize his physical strengths and see how best to defeat him. Regularly, she beat soldiers using her bow and arrow and sometimes even her sword. She crushed them in playing games from skittles to tables to chess. It took her time to win over most males and when she did, they saw her as a comrade or even a little sister. Never once had she wondered about what it would be like to kiss a man.
Until now.
A knock on the chamber door startled her. “Come,” she called.
Servants entered with buckets of hot water, pouring them into the small wooden tub one brought along. They left without asking if she needed assistance—because she never had accepted it. Nan was a woman who did everything for herself.
She went back to the trunk and lifted a vial her mother had given her from it. Returning to the tub, she opened the vial and poured in the freesia, stirring it with her fingers. Immediately, a gentle floral scent wafted up. Nan had never used any oils in her bath water. Mayhap, the time had come for her to do so regularly.
Disrobing, she eased herself into the hot water and gave herself up to the delicious feel of it for a few minutes before scrubbing her body clean. She dried herself and dressed in the smock and cotehardie. Having no mirror to inspect herself, she decided she could at least brush out her hair and rebraid it. She enjoyed the subtle scent of freesia that surrounded her and chuckled, knowing how delighted her mother would be that she’d finally given in to using it.
Funny how a little fragrance made her feel . . . feminine. She had never used that word to describe herself. Her mother, certainly. Merryn de Montfort was an elegant beauty who made decisions like a man but was feminine to her very core. Alys, her older sister and Ancel’s twin, was merely a younger version of their mother, resembling Merryn in everything from looks to interests. Even young Jessimond, the last of the de Montfort siblings, was delicate and ladylike. Though seven years Nan’s junior, Jessimond already seemed more womanly than Nan ever could be. She might grow into the most beautiful de Montfort woman of all.
Nan realized many years ago that she wasn’t as comely as her mother and older sister and never would be. Years had to pass before she understood this was the reason she had pulled away from what her mother and Alys enjoyed and tried to make her own way in the world. Fortunately, she had learned a great deal from Merryn and no longer resented her or Alys for being so beautiful. And now that she was dressed as a lady and smelled divine, Nan felt a tiny bit pretty in her own right.
Leaving her chamber, she made her way down to the great hall for the evening meal. As she entered, she noticed the dais sat empty as workers pulled the trestle tables from the wall and began lining them up alongside benches. If Ginger’s labor proved difficult, Elysande wouldn’t consider leaving the mare—and that meant Michael would not leave her. Now that David was spending more of his time with the horses, Nan assumed he would also remain with his parents as they saw the foal into the world.
That meant she would be alone with Lord Tristan.
A feeling of trepidation mingled with excitement filled her as she went to the dais. Before she could climb upon it, a hand gently touched her elbow.
“May I assist you, my lady?”
Nan looked up to find deep brown eyes rimmed in gold staring at her in open admiration. Nan judged him to be right at six feet with a lean yet muscular build. Hair the color of warm sand complemented his tanned face, though a small, white scar that stood out on his chin spoke to some incident in his past.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said demurely. She almost burst out laughing. She had never been demure in her entire life. Her brothers would have howled at her shy behavior.
The nobleman seated her and took the spot to her right. His thigh accidentally brushed against hers under the table, sending a delicious shimmer through her.
“I would like to introduce myself to you. I am Tristan Therolde, Earl of Leventhorpe. You may have met two of my knights today, Sir Stephen and Sir Toby.”
“And I am Lady Nan de Montfort of Kinwick Castle, daughter of Lord Geoffrey and Lady Merryn. I saw Sir Stephen in the crowd but did not have the pleasure of conversing with him. Sir Toby, as you know, came close to winning the archery contest today. I definitely would like to spend time conversing with him.”
Nan found her heart racing as she spoke. Her left hand clutched her right in her lap to keep them from wringing nervously.
“Wine, my lady?”
She turned and saw a servant in front of the dais. “Thank you, I would.”
The woman poured the liquid into a cup and then did the same after Lord Tristan confirmed he also wanted some. Then another servant brought a trencher for them to share. Nan had eaten thousands of meals over the years and shared a trencher with everyone from her young nephew, Cyrus, to visitors Kinwick entertained that were old enough to be her great-grandfather.
None of them had looked like Tristan Therolde. Smelled like Tristan Therolde. Exuded a quiet power and strength as this nobleman did.
She wondered what he tasted like.
“What did you say?”
By the Christ—had she spoken aloud?
Glancing around, she sputtered, “What the venison tastes like. I asked what the venison might taste like. The last time ’twas a bit tough. Very unlike Cook. Usually, her meat is beyond tender and swimming in its juices.”
“Ah.” Lord Tristan nodded to himself and picked up his cup of wine.
Nan could not afford to be rattled around this man. She took a deep breath, something Hal long ago had taught her to do if she became frightened or flustered. Exhaling slowly, she felt more in control.
As another servant brought the tray of venison to them, Lord Tristan chose several pieces for them to share. A small round of cheese and fruit were also placed by their trencher. Nan bit into a pear and chewed it thoroughly, thinking how to make conversation. She was never at a loss when speaking to others and hadn’t a clue why things had suddenly changed.
Swallowing, she asked, “Where do you reside, Lord Tristan? Is your home far from Sandbourne?”
He grew still. “Thorpe Castle lies in Essex.”
Nan shivered involuntarily. Essex and Kent had been the site where the peasants’ rebellion had begun a handful of years ago. Her sister-in-law, Margery, had lost her mother during the violent outbreak. The poor invalid had been murdered in her own bed while Margery remained hidden from sight, unable to save her own flesh and blood.
“Ancel, my eldest brother, was in the king’s guard when the revolt began,” she began. “He was sent to Essex to help quell it. I worried about him constantly.”
“’Twas a difficult time for many,” he commented brusquely.
Their conversation died after that. Though Nan tried several times to engage him in talk, the earl proved taciturn. Finally, she gave up and they ate in silence. At fi
rst, Nan felt she might have said something wrong but didn’t know what. Surely, asking him where he lived wasn’t too personal a question. She wondered how long he had been an earl. He looked to be a few years over a score. It could be that his father died young and Lord Tristan had heavy responsibilities thrust upon him at a young age, which might have made him grow serious. Or mayhap, he wasn’t meant to be the earl originally. He could have had an older brother who laid claim to the title. Possibly, this brother had passed away and that’s what made the nobleman so sad. As they ate, Nan spun stories about him in her head. She had always done so from the time she was young. Her parents had often laughed at her vivid imagination.
The trencher emptied. Nan saw the workers beginning to stand and return the trestle tables against the walls, signaling that the meal had come to an end.
Turning to her seatmate, she said, “I am afraid I failed miserably taking Elysande’s place tonight. She is a gracious hostess and would have been here to entertain you if not for Ginger.”
Lord Tristan’s eyes flickered in interest. “The horse about to foal?”
“Aye,” Nan said. “I see she told you. That is why she is absent from the meal tonight.”
“But that was several hours ago,” he pointed out.
“Oh, it might take all night before Ginger produces her foal,” she confided. “Elysande is dedicated to her horses as much as her own children.” She smiled. “And Michael is dedicated to his wife. They were a love match from the beginning.”
He frowned in disapproval. “I don’t believe in such things.”
His firm tone surprised her. “You don’t believe in love matches?”
“Nay. I don’t believe in love.”
Chapter 3
Tristan saw Lady Nan’s lips part, a quizzical look upon her face. He had to draw on all the willpower he held not to lean over and sink his teeth into her full, bottom lip. The maid had tempted him since they’d sat down to their meal. Even now, a tantalizing floral scent teased his nostrils, making him want to bury his nose against her flesh.
