by Alexa Aston
He shook his head, puzzled by such an attitude. “Forgive me, my lord, but you seem openly enamored with your wife. Does she lead you about in everything you do or do you ever make a decision on your own?”
Lord Michael laughed as if Tristan had made a joke and then looked at him quizzically when Tristan remained silent. “You are serious?” he asked.
Tristan nodded. “I don’t understand your relationship with the countess at all.”
The nobleman halted his horse. “I had the worst example of what a father could be. He treated everyone from my mother to the lowest serf abominably. Sandbourne was a miserable place and I couldn’t wait to escape from it.”
Tristan frowned. “But you seem so . . . happy. As do those we’ve spoken with today.”
“I learned that happiness is a choice, Lord Tristan. I was a lonely misfit when I went to foster. Made fun of by all the pages who surrounded me until two squires named Geoffrey de Montfort and Raynor Le Roux took me under their wings. They taught me everything I know about being a man and how to be a great knight. I was fortunate enough to serve in Lord Geoffrey’s household before I claimed my title. Kinwick was a cheerful place. Lord Geoffrey was a man everyone admired yet he was open with his affection. His workers knew he truly cared about them. He adored his children, both his sons and daughters, and spent more time with them than most fathers did.
“And he was very much in love with his wife—Nan’s mother.”
Lord Michael stroked his horse’s neck. “I quickly decided I wanted to be the kind of man Geoffrey de Montfort was and when I became the Earl of Sandbourne, I modeled myself after his example. I wed a wife I respect and love beyond words. We have three children who brought us even closer together through the years. We know our strengths and weaknesses. I look upon Elysande as my partner. In life. In our marriage. In running our estate.”
Everything this man spoke seemed foreign to Tristan. Lord Michael appeared to be intelligent and capable. Why would he need a woman to help run anything?
“I see the doubt in your eyes, my lord. I realize if I had not witnessed the example Geoffrey and Merryn set—and if I had not found my Elysande—my life would be quite different.” He paused. “I only hope you will be fortunate enough to find a woman that can be your equal and bring you as much happiness as I have found.”
Tristan thought the nobleman had gone mad. A woman could never be equal to a man. And yet looking at Lord Michael, he appeared the picture of sanity and good health.
“Come, let us return to the training yard, my lord. If I’m away from it too long, I become restless.”
The earl urged his horse on. Tristan followed, galloping behind him until they reached the stables and handed off the animals to a stable hand.
He had no excuse to offer Lord Michael so he fell into step beside the man until they reached the training yard. Scanning the area, he did not spy Lady Nan and let out a small sigh of relief.
“My lord?”
Tristan turned and saw Stephen approaching them.
“Aye?”
“I saw you and Lord Michael return. Toby and I are in the butts, working with two knights and some of the pages and squires. Would you care to accompany me there?”
“Go ahead, Lord Tristan,” his host urged. “I plan to join Imbert.” He headed toward a raised platform where a burly knight watched the exercises with interest.
“This way, my lord,” Stephen said, leading him past the soldiers engaged in swordplay and down to the butts, much further from where yesterday’s archery contest had occurred. The area was totally flat except for mounds of earth at set points. Seven boys of varying ages held bows in their hands as Toby and two Sandbourne men spoke with them.
All of them sported bare feet—as did Lady Nan. He’d wondered why she shed her boots yesterday and would ask one of his men later about the practice. Tristan also noted each archer and instructor wore a leather bracer on the inside of their forearms. Those, he knew, would prevent the huge, long-lasting bruises from where the bowstring could whack a man as he released his arrow.
The noblewoman addressed the entire group. “An expert marksman can release between ten and twelve arrows a minute,” she told them. “We will work first on accuracy and then speed. The targets are set at one hundred yards. Eventually, you will be required to shoot at a destination twice as far.”
Tristan noted instead of yesterday’s targets, which had five colored rings divided into two bands of equal width, today the targets were merely coiled straw mats sewn into spiral coils and placed against the mounds of earth. Some mounds seemed as small as two meters across, while others stretched to eight meters or more. Each mound stood between one and three meters in height.
The soldiers stepped away from their charges and the boys scattered across the range until each one lined up with a mound directly in front of him, though many yards away.
“When you aim at your target, you will always hear the same commands issued, whether I or someone else directs your practice. Over many years of training and hearing these orders, you will automatically carry them out in case you find yourself in battle.”
Tristan could feel the anticipation hanging in the air and caught the excitement.
“Remember, you always lay your body into your bow. You never draw with your arm’s strength. Each of you has a bow sized according to your age and power. That will increase as time passes and you grow stronger. Keep your left hand steady and draw the bow with your right. Press all of your weight into the horns.”
That had been Tristan’s weakness. Doing things with his left hand always seemed natural. He’d had to concentrate for many years to become adept with a sword or any other weapon in his right hand. When he’d taken up a bow and fitted the arrow, it always seemed awkward to him. He practiced enough to be a tolerable shot but had always preferred fighting with a sword, spear, or even mace. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d held a bow and arrow.
“We will commence,” Lady Nan said, a calm authority in her voice. “Ready your bows!”
The boys lifted their differing-sized bows.
“Nock!”
Each lad fit an arrow against the bowstring.
“Mark!”
Seven pairs of eyes noted their targets.
“Draw!”
The bowstrings went back in unison.
“Loose!”
Seven arrows flew through the air with a whoosh. Tristan noted which boys were more accurate than others. Lady Nan quickly addressed each lad individually and then relayed the same set of commands. To a boy, each one improved from his first shot to his second. She spoke to each page or squire after the five rounds and then sent them to retrieve their arrows.
When they returned, she explained, “You’ll now shoot five arrows one after the other, in under a minute’s time. Think on what we spoke about. Do your best.”
This time, she issued the five orders at the same pace as before without pausing. Once she cried loose, she immediately began the sequence again. After five arrows had sailed from each archer’s bow, she again spoke with every boy, who retrieved his arrows after their brief conversation. This pattern continued for the next hour. Tristan thought it would grow old but he found himself fascinated with her patience and drive.
And her curves.
Yesterday, her baggy ensemble looked as if it were two sizes too large for her. But today? The dark pants fit like a well-made glove, showing off her long, lean legs and flare of her hips, while her tan gypon made obvious the roundness of her breasts.
At the end of the session, she called the boys around her. While they returned their boots to their feet, she said, “You all did quite well today because you listened and learned with each round. I am pleased by how precise your aim is. Tomorrow, I’ll make sure the targets are back another fifty yards.”
“Will we loose our arrows quicker, Lady Nan?”
Tristan saw it was the smallest of the pages who spoke. His eyes were round with excite
ment.
She grinned. “That, too, William. Speed and accuracy are important skills for an archer to possess.”
“I’ll be ready,” the young boy promised, smiling from ear to ear.
“Sir Martin, Sir Ralph? Have the boys collect all the arrows and targets. We’re done for the day.” The noblewoman turned to Tristan’s men. “Sir Stephen, Sir Toby, thank you for your help. Extra hands make my work much easier.”
“We are happy to do so while our lord remains at Sandbourne, Lady Nan,” Toby said, a shy smile on his face. He reached over and handed her a pair of leather boots. She slipped a dagger from inside one and held the hilt in her mouth while she placed them on her feet, then slid the blade into place and tucked her pants over it.
Tristan had remained at a distance from her, usually standing to her side and behind a good ways, not wanting to distract her from her task.
Lady Nan now turned and stared at him, a bland expression on her face. “Oh, it’s you.”
Chapter 6
Nan forced her face to remain placid. She’d known the minute Tristan Therolde arrived at the range. He’d hovered in the background the entire time she instructed the group of pages and squires but she had constantly been aware of his presence, knowing he studied—and even judged—her as she tutored her charges.
“You are good at what you do, my lady.”
“And what’s that?”
“Instructing, to begin with. I observed you for some time. You pace the lessons so there are no gaps in which young minds might become bored. You reinforce what the lads executed well and compliment them enough to make them eager to please you. You address what is lacking in their performance.
“You also model words with actions. They know you are skilled because they have seen you demonstrate what you teach. Actions, I believe, speak the truth.” His voice dropped low. “Your truth, Lady Nan, is that you are a superb archer.”
His words overwhelmed Nan. The quick retort died on her lips. Instead, she chose to respond as her mother would have wished her to do and merely said, “Thank you, my lord.”
Her stomach swirled with nerves so she began to gather her weaponry. Unlike the soldiers and those fostering who had a place in the barracks to store their equipment, Nan knew not to invade that world. She had finally become accepted at Sandbourne. Not as a lady—but an archer. She didn’t dare push the men beyond what they were comfortable with so she always took her things back to the keep with her each day after training ended.
Nan slung the quiver’s strap over her shoulder and picked up her bow. She watched as Lord Tristan lifted her longbow, which stood at six feet.
“Is this yours?” he asked.
She nodded and reached a hand out for it.
“Are you returning to the keep? If so, I will carry it for you.”
He was behaving well so Nan decided to allow him to accompany her. Graciously, she thanked him again, knowing Merryn de Montfort would be pleased once more with her daughter’s good manners.
As they walked, he asked, “Why do you practice—and even compete—in bare feet?”
“’Tis something Hal taught me. He said I was a woman taking up a sport dominated by men and that I would need every advantage possible in order to succeed. Freeing my feet allows my toes to grip the earth and my heels to dig in. In turn, it helps to steady both me and my aim. I am passing that along to those I teach.”
“I see.”
Nan wished she could be barefoot now for she was in great need of steadying. Walking next to Tristan Therolde, she found herself slightly dizzy, with a racing heart and dry mouth that made swallowing almost impossible. She couldn’t understand this physical reaction she had to him. Rarely had she felt this way. The only times were when the excitement of a hunt created the same giddy stirring. Spying and then bringing down game, especially if the animal had really challenged her during the chase, always gave her a fluttering feeling inside.
Glancing at the nobleman next to her, she wondered if Lord Tristan challenged her. She thought back to their kiss and, against all odds, she suddenly longed for a repeat performance. Nan shook her head. It was mad to want that, especially when she didn’t even like the nobleman. She didn’t tolerate arrogance in others—and he was full of it.
Or was he?
Another quick glance at his handsome profile told her somehow his demeanor had changed from the previous day. Mayhap watching her in the butts had provided him with a newfound respect for her, in particular, and women in general.
Nan reminded herself that she came from an unusual family. Females were oftentimes looked down upon by men, only good for breeding and domestic chores. Her parents had given all their children the opportunity to pursue whatever passions they had and taught them to value everyone’s contributions. It pleased her to see that her brothers took these lessons to heart. All three had married remarkable women and Nan knew their offspring would be raised the same way.
She had to remember that Lord Tristan was typical of most noblemen and that she shouldn’t take exception to his attitude. Besides, by the time he left Sandbourne, Nan was certain the earl would have immense respect for Elysande. Her cousin would teach him more than anyone else could. Lord Tristan seemed intelligent enough to take advantage of Elysande’s knowledge when it came to horses.
They continued toward the keep without conversing. Nan appreciated the silence after a long day of training. Sometimes, being around others constantly drove her to seek solitude in the woods. She also appreciated that Lord Tristan did not apologize again for yesterday’s mistake or fawn over her. Discussing the kiss wasn’t something that interested her.
Or so she told herself.
They arrived at the keep and he asked, “May I escort you to your chamber, my lady?”
“Thank you. I accept your kind offer.”
Nan led him upstairs to her bedchamber and opened the door. She took the longbow from him.
“I am grateful you carried my longbow for me. It can be a bit unwieldy since it’s far taller in length than I am.”
“My pleasure.” He paused, an uncertain look in his eyes. Then he said, “Thank you for allowing my men to work with you today. I’m sure they learned valuable lessons on how to tutor others.”
“Do Sir Stephen and Sir Toby’s duties include working with those who foster at Thorpe Castle?”
He shifted uneasily. “No one fosters at Thorpe Castle.”
Nan found that to be unusual. “Is it because of your age? Do you feel you can offer more to young men once you are more seasoned?”
“I am already a score and six,” he replied. “I am slowly building Leventhorpe into what it should be. Only then would I feel confident to take on others.”
She remembered their previous discussion and how it didn’t seem he had many acquaintances, much less friends who would send their sons to him. He also may have only recently become the earl and thus not have been involved in boys fostering, especially if he’d been away from his family’s estate until he came into the title.
Curious now, she asked, “Why have you come to Sandbourne, my lord? I know you said you wished to buy horses—but why? Forgive my saying so, but you don’t seem terribly informed about them. What would possess you to want to buy and breed horses?”
He shrugged. “I am beginning to wonder that myself. But I plan to soak up everything I can from Lady Elysande and Lord Michael, both about horses and how they run Sandbourne.”
A tremor of awareness rumbled through her. “Ah, you are beginning to understand, my lord.”
“Beg pardon?”
“You said how they run Sandbourne. You recognize it is something done jointly.” She gave him a smile. “Mayhap there is hope for you yet.”
With that, Nan stepped into the bedchamber and closed the door.
*
Tristan spent the next week shadowing Lady Elysande. The noblewoman had the energy of ten men. He learned how horses could sleep both lying down and standing up and that the
ir lifespan was close to his current age. That they only ate plants and because their eyes sat on the sides of their heads, they could see almost full circle around them. That stallions often sampled the urine of mares to learn if they were in heat. Tristan learned why horses were shod—not only to protect their hooves but to improve traction and help absorb the shock from the earth as they galloped.
Lady Elysande firmly believed horses to be the most intelligent of all animals and claimed they had sharp memories. She told him if he treated a horse kindly and did not see that horse for many years, upon renewing his acquaintance with the beast, the horse would remember him no matter how long they’d been apart. She also warned him that, upon occasion, a bored horse might accidentally learn how to untie himself from a post or open latches or grain bins. If he did, he had to be watched carefully for the horse never would forget what he’d taught himself and might wind up in mischief.
Tristan also stayed for many hours with the noblewoman when two mares gave birth on different days. She quietly instructed him on the various stages of labor and what he could do to make things more comfortable for the mother. Seeing the process unfold and then watching the first few hours of the foal’s existence was life changing for him. He constantly asked Lady Elysande questions and gleaned every bit of understanding he could from her.
When he wasn’t with the countess, Tristan spent his remaining time with Lord Michael. He grew quite fond of the older man. As his wife did, Lord Michael answered everything Tristan threw at him, from how to improve his crops to what training schedule he placed his soldiers on and how frequently they patrolled the estate and the roads beyond.
During the evening meal, Tristan would do the same with Sir David and Lady Nan, though he much preferred the noblewoman’s company. She explained to him the differences in training regarding a crossbow, bow and arrow, and longbow. Tristan learned why bowstrings had been made from flax, silk, and finally hemp, because it was the strongest and least elastic fiber available. She taught him that the string must be soaked in glue to protect against moisture, while the wood could be guarded from the elements with a coating rub of wax, resin, and fine tallow.
