by Alexa Aston
“What of Gillian . . . and the babe?” she finally asked.
“They burned the stables, the animals left inside to perish. Lady Gillian only spoke of it once to me, hearing the horses scream. You know, she’s never ridden on her own since then.” He swallowed. “The babe died before the fire broke out. A brave girl, Lady Gillian was. She crept down the ladder as flames danced around her, carrying the poor dead babe. The path to the exit was blocked by the fire. She took an ax and pounded through a few boards, just enough to squeeze through and escape before the building collapsed, with her dead brother still inside. She fled to the woods. Master Tristan found her three days later, cowering there, unable to speak.”
Tears spilled down Nan’s cheeks.
“I can tell Lord Tristan cares for you,” the old captain said. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he doesn’t think anyone watches him.” He squeezed her hand. “If anyone can help him, ’twould be you, my lady.”
Nan hugged the old man. “Thank you for sharing this with me. It helps me to understand Tristan, knowing what he’s suffered through.” She gave him a weak smile. “He’s told me he doesn’t believe in love, Sir Dawkin.”
“He’s never had any given to him, my lady, though I do think he loved those boys. Lady Gillian has tried to love him but Lord Tristan’s pushed her away. I’m sure he’s done the same with you. But he needs saving, Lady Nan.”
“I know. I’ll try,” she promised.
They walked back in silence to the castle. Everything fell into place. Why so few servants were present at Leventhorpe and only a handful of tenant families existed on the property. The soldiers Tristan had were either old ones who looked for a place to serve after the rebellion or young ones who needed a place to learn.
It also explained why Tristan had locked away his feelings. He’d never been close to his parents nor felt any kind of affection from them. Sir Dawkin said Tristan had loved his siblings but after seeing their murdered corpses, he had closed off his emotions. He couldn’t risk his heart, caring for anyone—because they might be taken away from him at any moment.
She also ached for Gillian and everything she had gone through as a young girl. Nan decided to seek her out now. She bade Sir Dawkin farewell and expressed her thanks for what he’d shared with her then returned to the keep. She found Gillian in the great hall, sewing by the fire. The room stood empty.
“Might I have a word with you?” Nan asked.
Gillian put aside what she worked on. “You’ve been crying.”
“Aye. For you. And Tristan.” Nan took a deep breath. “I know what happened that day. Sir Dawkin told me.”
The girl’s jaw fell open. A stricken look appeared on her face. She leapt to her feet, ready to flee the room.
Nan embraced her, holding fast. “I am here, Gillian. I am here for you.”
Sobs racked Gillian’s body. The harder she cried, the more tightly Nan held on to her. Finally, her weeping subsided. Nan released her and Gillian fell into her chair. Nan sat next to her, taking her hand.
“You know everything?” Gillian hiccoughed.
“Aye.”
“It was horrible, Nan. Sometimes, I think I only dreamed it but it all happened. I couldn’t even enter the great hall for a year after it occurred. I didn’t speak for months. And poor Tristan. He came home on his birthday and . . . that . . . is what awaited him.” She wiped her tears with her sleeve. “We never speak of it. Never. Why did Sir Dawkin tell you about it?”
“Because I asked. I care for Tristan, Gillian. I think he cares for me and I wanted to understand why he continually holds me at arm’s length. I come from a family where love is abundant. Celebrated. I need to love and be loved by the man I wed. Tristan has told me he does not believe in love.”
Gillian’s face fell. “He guards his heart, Nan. And he has worked so hard over the past few years. No servants were left afterward. No tenants. Tristan is the one who scrubbed floors and washed all the bedclothes. He harvested wheat from the fields. He has done his best to buy livestock and convince new tenants to move to Leventhorpe. Soldiers, too.”
“When did Sir Stephen and Sir Toby come?”
Her lips trembled. “Two years after . . . everything. They remained where they’d fostered with Tristan and completed their service, both earning their knighthood. Immediately, they set out for Leventhorpe because of their loyalty to my brother.”
Nan’s throat grew thick with emotion. “And then he lost them, too. What a tragedy.”
Gillian nodded, her eyes misting with tears. “They had become as my new brothers. They talked to me and teased me when I returned from Shercastle each summer. Tristan thought it best for me to leave Leventhorpe once I finally began to speak. He wanted me away from the hardship here. That was when I went to Lady Magdalen.” She hiccoughed again. “Losing Toby and Stephen hurt both me and Tristan. Especially him.”
“Have you told David any of this?”
Her eyes widened. “Nay. I would never do such a thing.”
“You need to,” Nan urged. “David should know. You shouldn’t have to fight these terrible memories alone. He will love you and support you and be strong for you when you can’t be for yourself.”
Gillian bit her lip. “I suppose you are right.”
“I am,” Nan said with confidence. “Go find him. Now. Tell him everything. Leave nothing out.”
“And what will you do?”
“Find Tristan.”
Chapter 17
Tristan had avoided Nan last night and continued to do so today. He was embarrassed at his behavior yesterday—and yet couldn’t wait to put his hands on her again. To avoid making a fool of himself or worse, having her make good on her promise to do him bodily harm if he did try to touch her again, he decided to skip going to the training yard, knowing she would be in the butts.
The time drew near when she and David Devereux would be leaving Leventhorpe. Tristan decided to speak with the young knight about the horses he had purchased at Sandbourne and how they were adjusting to their new home. Mayhap that would take his mind off Nan de Montfort. A stable hand told him the nobleman was in the pasture so Tristan made his way there and saw David standing next to the fence, leaning his elbows on it as he watched the activity on the other side.
As Tristan approached, David turned. “Greetings, my lord. Have you come to take a look at your horses?”
“Aye.”
David spent a good half-hour telling him what he had done with both the horses and Tristan’s staff. How often the horses were fed and the different types of exercises and training they’d been put through. When they were moved from the stables to the open space. Adjustments he had made inside the stables and the various stalls. Tristan listened carefully and saw how thorough Devereux had been in working with both the animals and his people.
“Do you have any questions I might answer for you?”
Tristan shook his head. “Nay. You have done a remarkable job. I hope to return to bargain with your mother every spring and add to my stable. It would relieve me to know you might come each year and do as you have these past two weeks to help my new purchases settle in.”
“May I speak frankly, my lord?”
He saw the knight was ready to voice what lay in his heart regarding Gillian.
“Feel free, Sir David.”
“I would be happy to return to Leventhorpe every spring so I could bring Lady Gillian with me. You see, we have fallen in love and wish to wed.”
Love? Why did that word keep coming up with the members of this family? Tristan calmed the anger that sprang to the surface. He knew he should be happy that his sister had found a good man who cared for her. She deserved it after everything that had happened.
When he failed to reply, David said, “I am asking for your permission to wed Lady Gillian, my lord. You would be welcome at any time at Sandbourne and I would not keep her from visiting you here at Thorpe Castle. In fact, I would encourage visits between the two of y
ou. Gillian cares a great deal for you, my lord.”
Tristan smiled wistfully. “My sister would be happy at Sandbourne. I know your parents will look after her, as you would. You have my approval, Sir David. I will draw up papers regarding Gillian’s bridal price.”
The younger man broke out in a huge grin. “Thank you, my lord,” he repeated several times as he pumped Tristan’s hand enthusiastically.
“I assume you have spoken to Gillian about this.”
“Aye, we have. She will be pleased to receive your blessing, Lord Tristan. She thinks the world of you.”
If only he had been able to restore her world. Tristan had tried these past few years but he knew many areas were still lacking at Leventhorpe.
“Will you excuse me, my lord? I’d like to find her and share the good news.”
“Of course.”
David Devereux raced off. Tristan wished he remembered what it was like to feel eager. To have hope. To think he would find someone to share everything with. Build a life together.
But the one woman who had sparked any interest from him was one he needed to let go. She would be gone in two days. He would never see her again.
Misery filled him. He began walking and found himself at the edge of the woods. He decided to go visit Hugo. It had been a good while since he’d seen the Leventhorpe falconer, who had been on his own for many years after his wife died giving birth to their first child. The child hadn’t survived a day and Hugo kept much to himself ever since. He had not even known a rebellion had occurred on the estate until weeks after it ended. Mayhap Tristan could plan a hunt for tomorrow, using the falcons. Anything to get his mind off his woes.
He arrived at the falconer’s space, which included a small cottage and a large clearing where the raptors were housed in cages. Hugo greeted him and they talked about the horses he had recently purchased from Lady Elysande. The falconer was eager to come see them. Tristan also broke the news about Stephen and Toby’s deaths.
“You’ve had a rough time of things, my lord. But I’ll bet your luck’ll change. These new horses could help.”
“My luck might not but my sister’s has.” Tristan told him about David Devereux and how the knight wished to wed Gillian.
“Let me know when the nuptial mass is, my lord. I don’t get up to the castle often but I would enjoy seeing Lady Gillian in her wedding finery, a smile on her face. It’s been missing from her for a good while.”
“It has, Hugo. It has.”
Tristan heard something rustle and looked to the woods. A figure approached. As it came closer, he recognized who arrived.
Nan.
She stepped into the clearing. “Greetings, my lord. Hugo.”
“You know Hugo?” he asked, surprise filling him.
“Aye. I have taken a few walks through your woods and met Hugo last week. He showed me your new eyases and how they’d become accustomed to the lure.”
Hugo beamed. “Lady Nan knows quite a bit about raptors. From Joseph, her father’s falconer, and her sister-in-law. We had a fine time together.”
Tristan remembered Nan telling him about her sister-in-law, who was a falconer. He watched Hugo slip his leather glove off and allow Nan to put it on. She held it out to one of their largest birds, who hopped onto her arm. Hugo slipped her a bechin to give the peregrine, who downed it greedily. He sat silently as the two talked about the falcons, watching Nan’s animated face, realizing how much he would miss seeing it every day.
Finally, she returned the falcon to its cage and gave Hugo his glove back.
“Thank you for letting me visit, Hugo.”
“I enjoy your company, my lady. Do come again.”
She hesitated. “I’m afraid I will be leaving soon.”
“Then if you ever come to Leventhorpe again, please stop by to see me.”
“I will,” she promised. Glancing to Tristan, she said, “Are you returning to the castle?”
He stood. “Aye. Allow me to escort you.”
As they made their way back, he smelled rain in the air. The shadows in the forest grew darker as the sun faded away. They came out of the woods as thunder rumbled nearby.
“It looks as if we’ll be caught in a downpour,” Nan said, glancing up.
Just then, the first drops began to fall and then the bottom fell out of the sky.
“We should take shelter,” Tristan suggested. He pointed to his right. “That cottage up ahead is empty.”
Nan took out running, as graceful as a doe. He could only stare at her in longing for a minute before he raced across the wet grass. She reached the door first and threw it open, Tristan on her heels. He closed it behind them. A little light came in from the lone open space cut out, which served as a window.
She did a quick turn around the cottage. “No kindling. I suppose that means no fire for us. We’ll simply have to wait out the thunderstorm.” A drop slid from her hair down the bridge of her nose. She giggled and brushed it away.
Nan was soaked to the skin—and yet had never looked more beautiful to him than in that moment.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms absently as she paced the small room, trying to warm herself.
“You’re shivering,” he said.
Turning to face him, their eyes locked. Neither moved. Then Nan shrugged and began to move again restlessly. She paused in front of the tiny window, standing far enough away so that the incoming rain didn’t pelt her.
Without realizing he moved, Tristan suddenly stood behind her. He slid his arms around her waist and drew her against him, locking his fingers together to make sure she stayed put.
“Tristan,” she said, her voice low, warning him.
But he ignored her words. She felt too good, all warm and womanly. He bent and brushed his lips against her neck. Her head tilted, giving him better access, and his lips burned a path along her neck. Her jaw. Up to her ear. Her fingers grabbed onto his forearms, tightening with each kiss. He lazily ran his tongue around the shape of her ear, enjoying the small, surprised cry she emitted.
“Tristan,” she warned again, but he was having none of that. He pulled her hard against him, so that she could feel his manhood rising.
“This is what you do to me, Nan,” he murmured into her ear. “Only you.”
He spun her in his arms and found her mouth. The heat between them now burned brightly. She seemed to melt in his arms. Tristan kissed her over and over, thrilling each time she made some tiny sound of approval in the back of her throat. He had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Nan.
Breaking the kiss, he stared at her beautiful, heart-shaped face. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered.
Laughing, she pulled his mouth back down to hers and took the lead. This time, she was kissing him and Tristan hung on for the wild ride. He became the one making satisfied noises, murmuring against her lips.
They stumbled and fell to their knees, still kissing as if they needed to as much as they needed to breathe. His hands roamed her body, lighting his own afire. Somehow, they wound up on the floor of the cottage. His hand slid under her tunic and to her breast. It filled his palm, seeming to grow, as Nan’s hips lifted against him. He dragged his hand down her body, against her flat belly, the skin smoother than silk.
Continuing to kiss her, he tugged her pants down until they sat at her knees. He needed to taste her. All of her.
Tristan broke the kiss, panting, seeing her eyes glazed with passion. He lifted her gypon and kissed her belly, running his tongue around her bellybutton. Her hips bucked again and he moved lower, fastening his mouth against her most intimate place.
“Tristan?”
He heard her voice, small and unsure, and knew he ventured where no man had gone before with her. His tongue plunged into her wet heat. Nan gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. Then a deep moan came from her, sparking wild desire within him. He sampled her treasure chest until she writhed beneath him. When she came, she cried his name over and over as she
rode the wave of pleasure.
Tristan licked her a final time and looked at her. She lay dazed, unmoving. He gently kissed her belly once more and then lifted her hips to pull the pants back to her waist, hovering over her.
He might not be able to offer Nan what she wanted from him, but he could try to make her happy in his own way. He knew he would never find any kind of happiness if she left.
“We will need to wed,” he told her. “Soon.”
A smile more genuine than any he’d ever seen lit her face. Tristan leaned down and kissed her softly.
Then she frowned. “Why? Do you finally admit that you love me?” Nan asked.
His belly clenched in fear.
“Do you love me?” she repeated, her tone growing sharp. When he remained silent, anger sparked in her eyes. “Nay, you can’t love anyone, can you? Oh, Tristan, what can I say to make you trust me?”
He wanted to trust her. To love her. But all he saw was a heap of savaged bodies, blood spilling from them, soaking the rushes they laid upon. He refused to give his heart to anyone. Not even Nan. Especially not her. For if he ever lost her, he would lose himself. ’Twould be worse than death.
She shoved him away and rolled to her feet. Instead of glaring at him angrily, he saw pity in her eyes.
“This ends now,” she declared.
Tristan rose to his feet. “But we must wed, Nan. After what we just did. ’Tis only right.” He looked at her pleadingly. “This could be how it is between us,” he said softly. “We can pleasure one another. I can give you children. A home. You would be my countess.”
“You didn’t ask me to wed you, Tristan. You announced we would do so.” She shook her head. “I am sorry. So very, very sorry. More than I could ever explain to you. I could never marry without love or trust between my husband and me.” Her mouth trembled. “That means I can never marry you.”
Nan went for the door and opened it, ready to leave. Tristan slammed it shut and whipped her around to face him. He backed her against the door and began kissing her, thinking if he did so for long enough that he could convince her to change her mind. He needed her. He couldn’t let her walk out that door without agreeing to wed him. To stay with him. To be a partner to him.
