by Alexa Aston
“And Lord Tristan,” he added.
“And Lord Tristan,” Nan echoed. “We met at Cousin Elysande’s home. She is countess to the Earl of Sandbourne.”
“I have heard of them both,” the baron said, his face now perilously close to hers. She could feel his warm breath on her skin.
Nan had had enough of his games. She lifted her hands to push him away but as she did, he quickly moved against her, trapping them, as he pressed his body into hers and forced his tongue inside her mouth. Revulsion filled her. Her knee slammed into his groin as she sank her teeth into his wandering tongue. His muffled yelp brought a smile to her face as he jerked away. Her arms now free, Nan pushed her palms against his chest will all her might. The nobleman sprawled onto the floor, blood dripping from his mouth.
“You little whore,” he said, his eyes black and menacing.
Nan kicked him in his balls for good measure and left the stables. She brought the back of her hand to her mouth and wiped hard, trying to remove the sensation of his lips on hers. She could still taste him, which brought a wave of nausea. Suddenly, she began retching, everything she had eaten at the feast spewing from her. She passed a rain barrel outside the blacksmith’s shed and rinsed her mouth, hoping all traces of Petyr Medford were now gone.
Entering the keep, she saw Tristan descending the stairs. The moment he spied her, he rushed to her.
He captured her elbow, his fingers pressing into her flesh. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
Nan tried to slow her breathing as she told him, “I am fine. But your guest may have stumbled inside the stables.”
Tristan’s eyes grew murderous. “He followed you? Touched you?”
“He did. He’ll think twice about doing so if he ever encounters me again.”
“That man will never be welcomed at Leventhorpe again,” Tristan swore.
“An excellent idea, my lord.” Nan fled up the stairs and to her chamber. For the first time since she arrived at Thorpe Castle, she latched the solar’s door so that no one could enter from the outside.
Finally, she felt safe.
*
Instead of paying attention to the pairs of soldiers training in front of him, Tristan’s eyes continued to wander across the yard and to the range. He would find Nan and watch her a moment and then force himself to tear his eyes away.
Anger still melted within him at Lord Petyr’s untoward behavior yesterday. Tristan had gone immediately to the stables, only to see Lord Petyr mounted on his horse. The nobleman rode by him with a friendly wave but Tristan saw the blood on the baron’s face and surcoat. Pride in Nan swelled within him.
She had not joined in any activities the rest of the day. He had allowed the soldiers a day of fun and they had stayed in the great hall until late, drinking and singing. Today, many walked around with heavy heads but no one complained.
Tristan looked again to the butts and saw Nan laughing, Drew by her side. Jealousy rippled through him, causing him to lose his head. As Nan moved to help a soldier with his stance, Tristan found himself headed toward the squire.
“Drewett. A word.”
Drew set down the target he held and came toward him. “Aye, my lord?”
“’Tis time for you to return to Kinwick.”
“What?” Drew looked at him in confusion. “Why?”
How could Tristan explain the envy and resentment he felt when looking at this man and his easy relationship with Nan? His head told him to back away and apologize for the odd outburst but his heart made him press onward.
“I order you to return to Lord Geoffrey. I have no further need of your services.” Tristan knew his crazed behavior now would ruin any chances of the squire returning to serve him once he became a knight and yet he couldn’t help himself.
Determination filled Drew’s eyes. “You cannot order me home, Lord Tristan. I do not serve you, but the de Montforts. I won’t go for I am to protect Nan at all costs.” His eyes softened. “I always have—and will continue to do so. Though we got off to a rocky start, she is my closest friend. Nan is like family to me, more than my own ever was or could be.”
“So you refuse to obey my command?” Tristan said, not disguising how infuriated he was.
“Aye.” The squire stood his ground.
“Even though I am the liege lord at Leventhorpe and you stand upon my lands?”
“Aye.”
Though admiration filled him, Tristan took a step toward the younger man. “I want you to leave. Now. I will force you if I must.”
“If Drew isn’t wanted here, neither am I,” Nan said.
He saw the disappointment in her eyes and hated that she viewed him this way. Tristan wanted to apologize to them both for his outlandish behavior. Instead, he stormed off without further explanation. He couldn’t remain in the training yard. He didn’t want to return to the keep.
The stables.
He would find comfort in his horse. Ride until all the madness left him and his temper cooled.
Tristan strode to the building and entered Skybourne’s stall. The horse munched on hay and looked at him quizzically.
“What on earth has gotten into you?” a familiar voice asked.
He turned and saw that Nan had followed him. Her fisted hands sat on her waist, emphasizing how small it was. Her black pants hugged her hips snuggly, causing a wave of lust to rush through him.
She marched over to him. “You’re like a man gone mad,” she exclaimed. “Drew has been nothing but helpful during our stay at Leventhorpe. Why you would lash out at him—”
He didn’t allow her to finish her sentence. Tristan grabbed her shoulders and yanked her to him. His mouth came down on hers hard, almost punishing her for questioning his judgment. His tongue pushed inside and slid along the velvet of her mouth. It had been so long since he’d kissed her. Tasted her sweetness. Held her body close to his. Inhaled the rich floral scent that surrounded her.
Nan didn’t respond at first. She stood frozen as a statue, allowing him to take and take from her. Then Tristan felt her sag. He enfolded her in his arms. He couldn’t get her close enough. He couldn’t kiss her deeply enough. He tightened his grip on her, afraid she would run away.
His hand slipped to her breast and cupped it, his thumb dragging across her already-hardened nipple. She sighed into his mouth. Her fingers gripped his shoulders and then moved to stroke his face.
He wanted her. It seemed he always had. She was the forbidden fruit that would remain forever out of his reach. Tristan wanted to toss her down into the hay and cover her body with his. He wanted to explore every curve, taste every part of her.
But he couldn’t.
Nan de Montfort deserved a man far better than he was. One who would love and cherish her. Give her children. Make her the center of his world.
Tristan couldn’t be—didn’t want to be—that man.
Nan might believe in love and she might find someone who shared that belief. A man who would love her long and sweet, until his dying day.
Tristan tore his mouth from hers. “I’m sorry, Nan. I truly am.”
With that, he stormed away.
“Oh, no, you don’t.”
Suddenly, a hard shove against his back caused him to pitch forward. Off-balance, he fell to his hands and knees. Before he could right himself, a heavy blow landed against the small of his back, knocking the air from him. Tristan rolled to face his attacker.
Nan hovered over him, smashing her booted foot into his stomach. He gasped for air as she moved her foot to rest against his throat.
“Don’t move,” she warned.
He nodded, unable to answer as he fought to suck in air.
“I can’t for the life of me understand you, Tristan. Drew and I came to Leventhorpe willingly, wanting to help you in any way we could. We have made a difference here, the both of us. Your men are more responsive and more disciplined. They are working hard to become the soldiers they know they can be. And out of nowhere, you go into a
rage and wish to banish Drew when he’s done nothing but support your efforts to improve your estate.”
“I resent . . . your closeness,” he managed to say and pulled in a deep breath.
“God’s wounds!” Nan growled. “You’re an idiot, Tristan Therolde. Drew and I love each other as brother and sister. I have told you so but your thick-headed skull refuses to listen. We grew up together. His family did all but abandon him. We de Montforts took him in and made him one of our own. He is my brother. My friend. My confidant. My protector. We would go to the ends of the earth for one another.”
She lifted her foot and moved away from him, pacing angrily along the stalls. Tristan pushed himself to a sitting position and listened to her swearing, better than any man of his acquaintance. He rose to his feet, knowing he needed to apologize for his outburst.
Finally, she turned and faced him. “I’ve done my best to try and be your friend, as well. Just when I think I have an inkling and might understand a small part of you, you do something outrageous to throw me off-balance.” She crossed her arms. “Your jealousy of Drew has ruined any prospect of friendship between us, Tristan. I will stay here to finish what I set out to do. With Drew. You will refrain from being a fool and asking us to leave. Is that understood?”
Tristan couldn’t help but admire her spirit and fortitude. Nan de Montfort was worth ten men.
“I understand, my lady,” he said contritely. “I will keep my tongue from running wild. You and Drewett are welcome to remain at Leventhorpe until it is time to leave for your brother’s estate.”
“Thank you.” With that, Nan left the stables.
Forever taking his heart with her.
Chapter 16
Nan went to the training yard after breaking her fast. Tristan had not come to the evening meal the night before nor this morning. She had been grateful for his absence. Her heart and mind warred within her. She longed to understand this man and hadn’t a clue where to begin. She’d tried before with Gillian but the girl had become so upset when discussing her deceased brothers. Nan hadn’t the heart to try again by asking Gillian to help decipher her brother’s actions. Gillian was so happy with David now. It wouldn’t be fair to drag her into Nan’s troubles.
She went to stand near Drew, wishing she could talk over matters with him but knowing it to be impossible. How could she tell her best friend that she’d fallen in love with a man whose moods changed so rapidly, a man who tempted her beyond her wildest dreams and yet smashed those very dreams, grinding them under his boot until they turned to dust? If Drew knew, he would kill Tristan. So would her brothers. And by the Christ, she must never let her father learn of what had passed between her and Tristan. Geoffrey de Montfort could be the most generous man in all of England but if anyone wronged him or his family, he would be unstoppable.
She glanced around the range and then to the adjacent training yard. Her eyes stopped as they fell on Sir Dawkin. He had been at Thorpe Castle since he was a boy. If anyone could clue her in as to what troubled Tristan, it would be Leventhorpe’s captain of the guard.
“Drew, continue rotating the men. Stick to longbows only today. I have something to do.”
Her friend nodded, not questioning her, and Nan set off. She crossed to where Sir Dawkin stood on the raised platform watching the soldiers at work.
“My lord, may I have a private word with you?”
The old man glanced down, studying her for a long moment with his one good eye. Nan did not blink. Finally, he said, “I wondered how long it would take for you to come to me.”
He signaled for another knight to join him. Nan thought the man a poor archer but having observed him, she knew he swung a sword better than any other soldier in the yard. Sir Dawkin instructed the soldier to take over until he or Lord Tristan returned to supervise the men’s exercises. Then Dawkin eased down from the platform with some difficulty. Nan couldn’t help but wonder how he’d lost his leg. Mayhap that would be part of the story she sought from him.
“Shall we walk?” He extended a hand and they fell into step together, Nan adjusting her pace to match his much slower one.
They left the castle grounds, strolling out the gate and along the road until they reached a meadow in full bloom. Not a word passed between them during this time. She practiced patience, knowing this man might be the only one who could answer her many questions. Worried about how far they’d come and not knowing how much longer he could walk, she suggested they sit on the flat boulder to their right. She and Gillian had come to the spot twice during Nan’s visit to Thorpe Castle, spending time getting to know one another.
After they sat, the captain said, “I suppose you want to know about Lord Tristan. And what happened at Leventhorpe.”
She nodded.
He sighed. “Let me go back a ways. To his parents. The earl and countess were not suited for one another. In some marriages, a couple may come to some type of agreement. Those two never did. The lady did right by him, though, and produced a child every few years. Lord Tristan was the first, followed by three boys and then Lady Gillian. Another boy the year after the girl. Then a babe came six years after the last one had appeared.”
Sir Dawkin rubbed his eye. “They saw their children had clothes on their backs and knew what was expected of them but never offered any outward signs of affection. The countess referred to the last babe as a mistake and claimed no more children would result from their union.”
He looked at her. “The children liked one another, though Tristan was the one who really seemed to care for his siblings and watch over them, being the oldest. His brothers tended to be competitive and fight among themselves. Master Tristan was always the voice of reason. They all were sent to different estates to foster, except for Lady Gillian, who remained home with her mother. The boys returned each summer. Some children in a family remain close to their siblings despite being apart most of a year but the Therolde children did not. The earl pitted the boys against one another and they became strangers to each other and their parents, though Master Tristan would talk to me sometimes about how things would be different once he became the earl. He spoke of how he wanted to bring his family together under one roof and make a new start. A happy one, where all were supported—and loved.”
Nan finally spoke. “I have noticed how formal and distant Tristan and Gillian are with one another. Their upbringing explains that, in part.” She frowned. “But I know she seeks his approval and longs for a closer relationship with her brother. Why won’t he allow it?”
“Oh, Tristan was always her favorite of all the five brothers. She worshipped him from afar. The other boys paid scant attention to her since she was a girl but every now and then, Tristan would take her around the estate on his horse. And then the babe came,” Sir Dawkin added. “Lady Gillian did dote on her youngest brother. She was the one who cared for him. Though a wet nurse fed the boy, ’twas Lady Gillian who mothered the infant. The countess had little to do with him.”
Sir Dawkin paused and looked out across the meadow. “Sometimes, one or more of the boys did not come home for their summer break. They would stay where they fostered or even travel to another lad’s home. Can’t say I blame them. But that year, the earl wanted all of them home. Even sent for them to come back early.”
Dawkin gave her sad look. “Because of the troubles.”
Immediately, Nan knew what the knight spoke of. “The peasants’ rebellion,” she said, her belly knotting, guessing what was to come.
“Aye. Seven years ago at this time of year is when it began. All the children had arrived back at Thorpe Castle except for Master Tristan. He was expected within a day or so.” Sir Dawkin finally turned back to her. “You see, Leventhorpe hadn’t been a particularly happy place. I don’t believe the earl was a cruel man. Just not a thoughtful one. Complaints turned to resentment and that grew over the years. When trouble broke out in Essex and Kent, the people on the estate were ripe for the picking.”
“Is that how a
ll of Gillian’s brothers died? She’d mentioned them once before in passing and when I asked her about them later, she grew quite upset.”
“They did. Thorpe Castle turned into a bloodbath that night, my lady. No one should ever have to see what happened here that day, not even seasoned soldiers.”
Sir Dawkin fell silent. Nan allowed him to gather his thoughts without interruption, knowing how difficult it must be to share with her what he had lived through.
After a long time, he said, “The soldiers in the barracks had their throats slit to a man. I was on duty at the wall walk and escaped that fate but I knew something foul was adrift. I rushed to the keep. Lady Gillian was up with the babe, walking him around the great hall. He was a fussy one from the start and had been ill for several weeks. I’d even overhead the countess say she hoped the child would die because he’d proved to be so much trouble.
“Anyway, I grabbed Lady Gillian by the arm and rushed her from the keep. There was no time to alert the rest of the family. I took her to what I thought would be the safest place—the stables. I didn’t think the animals would be harmed.
“I was wrong.”
His words were as a stab wound to Nan’s heart. She had recognized the stables were new. A sick feeling washed over her.
“I hid her in the loft, telling her not to come down for any reason until I returned for her. I urged her to keep the babe quiet and then returned to the keep to help the others.” Sir Dawkin shook his head in sorrow. “By then, I was too late. The serfs and servants had rounded up the family and taken them downstairs to the great hall. Slaughtered them like lambs. A few remained behind to loot the keep and I tangled with them.” He pointed to his face. “You see how that turned out.”
Nan took his hand and squeezed it. No words came to her.
“Lost my eye and leg that day but clung to life. Barely. Lord Tristan arrived several hours later.”
She couldn’t imagine the carnage that had awaited him. Seeing his family butchered. His parents. Four brothers.
