A Knight To Call My Own

by Sherry Ewing

  “Who else would be eligible at Berwyck?” Killian chided. “’Tis the Lady Lynet, of course. Best get yerself cleaned up a mite tae make a good impression…that is if’n ye want yerself a bonny bride, along with the rest of the gents who have come tae claim her!”

  God’s blood, this is not what I had planned! Ian followed Killian into the Garrison Hall in bemused silence as he realized that, perchance, taking Lynet to wife would not be such an easy task, after all.

  ~***~

  Merciful heavens. Will this man never cease his babbling? Lynet stifled a yawn as yet another suitor stood afore her. She had lost count of those men she had been introduced to this past se’nnight. She felt her sister kick her shin beneath the table, and she tossed Amiria a glaring frown. Then she consciously forced another smile to her lips. Her sibling’s strike was a painful reminder for her to at least attempt to show some interest, but ’twas of no use. She would rather soon forget this whole humiliating predicament she found herself in.

  She tried to pay attention, really she did. But what was there of merit in yet another knight full of himself, especially whilst he looked down his aristocratic nose at her, almost as if to see if she was worthy of him? She eyed him wearily. It took her no time at all to come quickly to the conclusion, yet again, there was nothing noble in this one’s character she could define, other than he claimed to be some distant kinsman of her father’s family.

  The man all but preened in front of her, trying to display his dashing good looks. Aye! Sir Broderick of Lorn was a handsome fellow with blonde hair reaching to his nape, and yet, she had seen his kind at least a dozen times this day. She watched him bow to those at the raised dais and was thankful this latest bit of torture was at last at an end.

  “I shall compete,” Broderick smugly announced. “I look forward to collecting my prize.”

  His words hung in the air like a death sentence. She caught his eyes skimming over her ’til they lingered on her bosom. Is that a leering grin beginning at the corners of his mouth? Lynet’s brow rose in indignation that he would dare such an offense. He only gave the briefest of nods and left, calling for wine.

  Lynet tried to remain calm, but her anger, along with the silent sour words lingering in her mouth, were about to be her undoing. She leaned forward on the table to peer at her liege lord. Amiria sat back with her own grim expression, allowing Lynet a better view of her husband. She knew he felt her gaze when he looked at her from the corner of his eyes, but he offered no words of solace. If anything, his demeanor showed nothing other than a coolness she knew would get her nowhere.

  She opened her mouth to give a bitter retort to his silent avowal, only to have Dristan halt her words with his steely stare.

  “You will not sway me from this course, Lynet, so do not waste your words on me,” he declared folding his arms across his chest.

  Amiria patted his arm. “You must admit, my lord, the selection you bring afore her leaves something to be desired.”

  “They are all titled, hence they are all worthy of her,” Dristan retaliated.

  Lynet put her hand on the table, bringing herself as close to the pair as she could without putting her arm in their trencher. “Worthy of me? You would have me wed one of these fools? Wed, to spend my life catering to the whim of some selfish lout? To someone who only cares for the monies I bring so he can clothe himself richly or purchase another steed to fill an already overflowing stable? Someone who will only see me for my beauty and parade me around at court like a pretty bauble he has acquired?” she hissed.

  “They are not all of such temperament,” Dristan huffed.

  “Ugh!” Lynet threw up her hands ready to run screaming from the keep. “Do not be blinded by what you think you see, for they are what I claim. The remaining few are either too young, or too old, my lord.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about from those who will not hold their own against a seasoned warrior, or did you forget the conditions of the competition that only the man who is triumphant at the end of the games will win your hand?”

  “You condemn and sell me into a life of servitude. I will be chattel to one of these fools and you care nothing for my feelings.” Lynet stifled back a sob.

  “All will work out as it should, Lynet. Of that, I have no doubt.” Dristan reached for his goblet and stared at her over its rim.

  She peered at him trying to determine what his expression meant, for he had a strange look upon his face, as though he held some secret. “Not if I am to marry any of these sorry excuses for men who have come looking for glory. By the time the next two se’nnight’s are over, you will have nothing left of your larder.”

  “Let me worry about my larder, Lynet.”

  Exasperated with the conversation, she sat back in her chair and returned her attention to the goings on within the hall. All were merry with thoughts of their victorious win, especially one mountain of a man. She vaguely remembered being introduced to the burly brute the day afore. He was Scottish, for sure, and from the Highlands, if her memory served her aright. Giving a heavy sigh, she became once more disinterested in the happenings in her own hall. With wine and ale flowing freely, few would be in any condition to compete. Mayhap, that would be in her favor.

  She noticed Rolf making his way through the room and her breath caught at the sight of him. He had dressed in his finest, and the dark blue tunic fit him well. He made his way confidently to stand afore the dais and gave a low, polished bow, performed with a courtly flourish. A soft smile at last lit her features as he arose to stare at her with twinkling merry eyes. He was devilishly handsome and had a grin upon his face like a boy who had just received a well-deserved treat! What is he up to, she wondered?

  “Rolf,” Dristan said nonchalantly, and looked as if he was trying to hide his own smile.

  “My liege,” Rolf replied with another courteous nod. He may have answered his lord, but his eyes held only unto her own. A flicker of hope pounded within her heart that perchance all was not lost.

  “All is in order?”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  Dristan nodded towards his knight. “Then come and sup with us. I give you leave to sit next to Lady Lynet.”

  Her mouth hanging open in a very unladylike manner, she watched as Rolf made quick work of lessening the space between them ’til he sat next to her. He began filling the trencher afore them with the choicest of meats so they could partake of the meal. He waited politely ’til she took a piece of venison and started to chew afore he delved into his meal. Taking a sip of wine to loosen the meat that seemed to stick in her throat, her heart picked up its pace ’til she thought surely everyone in the room would be able to hear its rapid beat.

  She could stand the silence between them no longer. “Lord Dristan heard your petition?” she whispered for his ears alone.

  “Aye.” ’Twas a simple, yet annoying statement, which told her nothing further of the information she was dying to know as he continued to eat his fill. She watched him discreetly from the corner of her eye for several minutes ’til she could stand it no longer. Underneath the table, she gave him a none-too-gentle poke in his ribs with her finger. His brow lifted as he began wiping his hands, since he had finished his food.

  “And…” she prodded for him to continue.

  Rolf shrugged his shoulders. He took his chalice in hand and began twirling the stem casually between his fingers afore he took a long slow sip of his wine. She began to drum her own fingers upon the table, a clear indication she was impatient. It seemed as if she waited an eternity afore he finally answered her. “I am here next to you. Should that not speak for itself?”

  She sighed inwardly in relief, knowing Rolf would do everything within his power to win her hand. For the first time in weeks, Lynet felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from her weary shoulders. They began to converse with a lighthearted banter. ’Twas nothing out of the ordinary of what their conversations had been over the years, other than he was seated to her le
ft in a place of honor. The placement would have normally been given to her husband, and there were several men about the room who stopped what they were doing to observe the pair with narrowed eyes. She mentioned they were being observed, and yet, Rolf only laughed, as though she had nothing to worry about.

  But worry she did, along with the fate of her heart. Yet, ’twas naught because of the men she had already been introduced to, nor the handsome one sitting comfortably by her side. Where but moments afore she had visions of her life with Rolf and what that would entail, those images quickly shattered into a thousand fragments as she watched another make his way through the hall, as he had done so many times in her past. She could not believe who her eyes beheld. For Ian…of all the people Lynet least expected to see…had come home!

  Chapter Six

  From the furious glint in her eyes, Ian could tell Lynet clearly was not pleased to see him. He would need to quickly remedy that and see if he could win her favor. Ian bowed low to those seated at the table afore him. When he rose, he suppressed a frown, seeing Rolf seated next to the woman he had not seen in many a year. A woman! Aye…for surely she was a small lass no longer. If Lynet had been beautiful in her youth, he was not sure what verbiage would now do the lady justice. To say she was simply stunning, would surely be considered a sin.

  He tore his gaze from Lynet to see her sister Amiria staring at him with an amused smirk on her own beautiful visage. Her violet eyes sparkled with a mischievous twinkle, as if she knew where his thoughts had led him. Her husband, on the other hand, did not look as pleased. Apparently, their friendship over the years only went so far, especially where Lynet’s heart was concerned.

  “We have not seen you in these parts for many a year, Ian,” Dristan stated the obvious. “What brings you back to Berwyck?”

  “A matter of grave importance, my lord.”

  Dristan rose from his chair and made his way to stand afore him. “And what, pray tell, could be of such import you would disturb our festivities?” he muttered quietly.

  “I think you are well aware of what is of such import.” Ian ran his hand along the nape of his neck. “I did not know when I traveled here I must needs compete in a contest to win her hand.”

  “Such is the conceit of man,” Dristan grumbled wisely. “Mayhap, a contest is just what is in order to see just how far you are willing to go to have her.”

  “I would have preferred the alternative.”

  “Aye, I suppose you would have, at that.” Dristan moved so Ian’s view of Lynet was blocked. “Do not hurt her any more than you already have with your absence these many years or you will answer to me. Do you understand my words, Ian?”

  “’Tis the farthest thought from my mind, my lord.” Ian nodded in Lynet’s direction. “May I?”

  Ian felt Dristan’s gaze rake over him ’til Dristan gave his assent with the briefest of nods…if that is what the barely perceptible movement could even be called. One barrier has been breached, and now, on to the next, Ian mused. He strode forward ’til he was afore Lynet, who quickly glanced at Rolf. ’Twas painfully evident to Ian his old comrade was no more pleased to see him than was the beauty seated to his right.

  “Lynet,” Ian said with a smile that rapidly faded at her words.

  “’Tis Lady Lynet, to you,” she scoffed.

  “My apologies, my lady,” he said stiffly. So, this is the game she wants to play, is it?

  Her head rose slightly whilst she looked down at him from her raised position. “We did not expect you to grace us with your presence, Ian.”

  “Laird.” He did not take his eyes from hers whilst her gaze traveled to his own amused ones.

  She appeared startled. “Pardon me?”

  “As well, you should,” he said with a mocking grin. He had purposely left his mantle on, but now whipped it off his body. Holding out the garment, Connor came behind him and took his cloak. Ian watched as Lynet let out an alarming, startled gasp. His green and blue plaid reached down to his knees with a sash pinned at his left shoulder by a brooch symbolizing his clan. He bowed afore her, once again.

  “It seems the heavens have smiled down upon me, my dear, Lady Lynet. I stand afore you as Laird of Urquhart Castle and of the Clan MacGillivray.”

  He watched in amusement as she tried to hide the tremble in her hands as she reached for her cup, and he saw she took a moment to recoup her wits from her shock. “I see.” Her reply was barely audible, but she recovered quickly. “May I then be the first at Berwyck to offer my congratulations on your good fortune, Ian…Laird MacGillivray,” she corrected with a gracious nod of her head.

  He smiled at her trying to find the young girl hidden behind the eyes of the woman he had unwittingly hurt. Unfortunately, he could only see the face of a woman scorned. “You are not the first to offer such felicitations, but I welcome them all the same, especially from someone so lovely.”

  Her brow arched, giving him a glimpse of perchance her fiery nature, but afore she could form some kind of a smart retort, the minstrels chose such a moment to begin tuning their instruments. Rolf stood, yet afore he, too, could make such an offer, Ian held out his hand to the lady who commanded both men’s attention.

  “Lady Lynet, I beg the honor of the first dance,” Ian bade, “especially since Rolf here has already had the distinct pleasure of dining at your side. You do not mind, do you, old man?”

  Rolf grumbled underneath his breath, but stepped aside when Ian came around the dais to reach her side. “Shall we, my dear?”

  “I am not your dear,” she replied coolly. She tentatively placed her hand in his. He caressed its back with his thumb, attempting to put some warmth into her freezing limb. “Please excuse me, Rolf. I shall return shortly.” Lynet offered him the briefest of smiles, afore Ian whisked her away towards the center of the room.

  Other’s joined them, taking their places side by side ’til they began the intricate steps of the dance pattern to a lively tune. Much to Ian’s dismay, the fast-paced dance did not leave time to have even the briefest of conversations. He would need to find a way to improve the situation ’til it became one in his favor.

  ~***~

  Lynet’s mind raced as she tried to find some balance to her world that was tearing her in different directions. After all these years, he at last showed up at Berwyck. Their hands met in the middle of a circle only to break apart with another turn. He eyed her with heavy lids, as though seeking an answer to a question only he knew for sure. ’Twas as if he but waited all these years to come and claim her. Lynet, however, knew differently.

  She tried to think rationally, but ’twas of no use. Her world once again tilted, turning her emotions upside down, just knowing Ian was here…at Berwyck…in this room…dancing with her. Her traitorous heart leapt in earnest when they came together as they danced. How she remembered longing for such a happening to occur in her younger days.

  His smiled broadened, as if he had read her thoughts. Even the hint of emerald green she saw hidden deep in the hazel of his eyes seemed to cry out for her to remember their color. Those sparkling eyes were a painful reminiscence of when he had rejected her at the tender age of ten and four summers. She attempted to harden her heart, for she would not be made such a fool of again.

  The music came to a close. She could only manage to stand there with her chest heaving as she attempted to breathe normally and kept wondering how she could escape his presence without appearing rude and incurring Dristan’s wrath. Afore she could take flight, Ian gently took her elbow and began guiding her from the hall. Others attempted to stop their progress and keep them from leaving the chamber, but Ian managed to brush aside those who would ask for the honor of her next dance.

  She barely felt the turret stairs beneath her slippered feet as they began their steady climb to the upper floors housing Berwyck’s family. Up they went ’til they reached the third landing, and she suddenly began to wonder at his ploy. Surely, he does not expect to go to my chamber now, does he? Alar
m flashed briefly in Lynet’s eyes as he did, indeed, steer her towards the right and down the passageway.

  “Where are you taking me?” Her voice shook with her distress. Ian gave her a look that almost shouted she should know better than to think he would harm her.

  They continued onward, passing her doorway, and Lynet finally let out her breath in relief. ’Twas only a momentary reprieve, for he opened the door to Amiria’s solar, sliding the bolt into place behind them once they entered.

  She put as much distance between them as she could. Looking around the room, Lynet quickly came to the conclusion there was not much space in the chamber, and she began to feel as though the walls were closing in on her. He advanced. His plaid swayed about his muscular legs that were no longer encased in tight fitting hose. Her eyes darted to find someplace to rest upon other than his handsome face and spectacular body; a body that radiated such a heat as she had never felt afore. He reached out for her hand and took it.

  Her breath left her with a rush of excitement that practically blinded her to anything other than Ian’s warm skin. Scorching hot awareness to his every move raced up her arm at his touch, and she felt as though her very blood was on fire. She felt herself losing a battle she had no idea she was even in. She needed to get away from him quickly, and yet, with this fleeting thought, he brought her closer. He lifted her chin so she had no alternative other than to stare upon his face.

  She tried to calm her nerves and strengthened her resolve to not give in to this man who had broken her heart. God’s bones, but no man should look so beautiful, she mused. For beautiful he was, in her mind, even more so than she had remembered him. He had always had such an effect on her, and it mattered not that he was older than she. For as long as she could remember, he had been the man she had fallen in love with at such an early age. The heart knows what it wants, and their age difference was not a concern, at least not for Lynet.