Romance Through the Ages

by Amy Harmon

  After they’d dismounted, Gillian watched curiously as Kellen and another man formally greeted one another. The knight bowed. “Do you desire to pass judgement this day?”

  “I do.”

  “We are honored and look forward to your discernment.” The knight gestured and chairs were brought forward as Kellen introduced Gillian to the knight, Sir John Teasdale, and his wife Lady Teasdale, who looked to be about Gillian’s age. Lady Teasdale curtsied and quickly introduced her four young children, three girls and a boy, all blonde like their mother, and all probably under eight years old.

  Gillian tried out a curtsy and didn’t think she did too badly. “It’s so nice to meet you all.”

  Lady Teasdale beamed. “The pleasure is ours. I’d not thought to meet you until your wedding day, so this is most pleasing.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad to be here.”

  As Kellen led Gillian to her seat, he leaned down. “I do not normally deal with such small matters,” he said in a low voice. “My man does this. I am only called in to deal with murder, arson, robbery, and assault, but make an exception this day.”

  “To spend time with me?”

  Kellen’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Verily you are a lot of trouble.”

  “I know.”

  Gillian was joined by Lady Teasdale and Kellen took his seat at the front, beside Sir Teasdale.

  “You look nothing like your sister,” said Lady Teasdale.

  “No?”

  Lady Teasdale studied her. “The same coloring, ’tis true, but your features are much finer.” She hesitated. “None here believe he killed Lady Marshall.”

  “Is that what some people think?”

  Lady Teasdale looked suddenly worried. “Some say so.”

  “Kellen would never hurt a woman in a million years. There’s just no way.”

  Lady Teasdale studied her. “You defend him so vehemently. ’Tis nice to hear.”

  “Of course I do. Anyone can see he’s innocent.”

  Lady Teasdale nodded. “You are not who I was expecting.”

  Yes, well, that was pretty much a given. Gillian lifted a shoulder, glanced at Kellen, and made sure her voice stayed low. “I don’t mean to sound so defensive, but not only does he have to deal with being almost murdered, but then he’s the one who gets the bad reputation out of it? It’s not fair.”

  “You do have the truth of it.” Lady Teasdale agreed then turned her head as the noise escalated in the gathering crowd.

  Gillian glanced from Kellen to the crowd, wondering what was happening. One of Kellen’s men stepped forward. “Lord Marshall will now hear any grievances brought before him.”

  Gillian leaned closer to Lady Teasdale. “So, he’s like a judge or something?”

  Lady Teasdale nodded, but there wasn’t time for a longer response as an indignant man pushed his way toward the front, pointed at another man, and loudly proclaimed, “I would accuse Gilbert the Baker of stealing the affections of my wife.”

  An audible gasp went up from the crowd as everyone turned to look at a man who gaped unbecomingly, yellowed teeth on full display. He glanced around for a quick exit, but his peers relentlessly pushed him forward.

  Kellen motioned with one hand. “Both men advance and give me the details.”

  The first man moved toward the front, bowed quickly and pointed at the other man, who closed his mouth and straightened skinny shoulders. “He has been gazing upon my wife, praising her, and he touched her hand. My wife smiled at him and I caught her eating a pastry that I had not given her.”

  Kellen motioned to the other man. “What say you?”

  The man flushed an unbecoming shade of red but stood his ground. “’Tis all innocence, my lord. Naught has occurred. I swear to it.”

  Kellen turned toward the first man. “He says naught has happened between them and has sworn it. If he agrees not to talk to your wife further, will you forgive this man?”

  “Aye.” The man straightened. “For a chicken.”

  “What?” Incredulity colored the other man’s tone. “A whole chicken?” Mouth slack he looked to Kellen. “’Tis unthinkable.”

  Kellen glanced between both men, then leaned forward. “Perhaps half a chicken?”

  A laugh escaped Gillian before she even knew it was bubbling up. She quickly turned it into a cough as everyone, including Kellen, turned to stare at her.

  A moment later the argument continued, capturing the crowd’s attention once again; and Gillian couldn’t resist, she got out her sketchpad and started to draw.

  After a few more minutes of haggling, the half chicken was finally accepted.

  Stifling another giggle, Gillian drew faster as Kellen nodded toward the husband. “By forgiving this man you show great strength of character and are to be commended.”

  He turned his gaze upon the other man. “And you, sir, need to find a woman of your own and stop trying to lure the wives of other men. ’Tis unacceptable.”

  Gillian’s sketch started to take shape. Two men tugged on a pretty chicken, each pulling a wing as the long-lashed hen struggled between them, panicked. Drawing all those caricatures at fairs during college stood her in good stead as she over exaggerated the determined features of the men, making them sinister yet silly at the same time.

  Lady Teasdale glanced over and muffled a laugh. Kellen turned, his brows raised, and Gillian pulled her pad against her chest, smiling innocently.

  Another man caught Kellen’s attention as, soft-spoken but upset, he claimed some of his grain had been stolen but didn’t have any proof against the accused other than he’d witnessed the man leaving his hut and had less grain upon checking.

  Kellen considered the situation as the accused shifted in place, looking down. “Did you take the grain?”

  The man took a breath, but before he could respond, Kellen held up a hand. “Keep in mind,” he said sternly, “that you not only answer to me but must stand before God and His judgement for what you say this day.”

  The man visibly wilted, his shoulders and head dropping. “I did take the grain, my lord.”

  “Is it gone?”

  “Aye, my lord, ’tis gone.”

  “Then you must pay your debt by helping this man work for seven days time, doing whatever he needs of you.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Both moved away, seeming satisfied by Kellen’s judgement.

  Another man came forward, bowed, and pulled on his forelock. “My lord, the blacksmith,” he pointed into the crowd, “‘e killed me goat.”

  A burly man, thick with muscle, pushed his way to the front. “You lie!”

  Kellen looked between the two men. “Let me hear the details.”

  The accuser crossed his arms over his puffed-out, bony chest. “’E gave me goat the evil eye one morning as ‘e walked past. The goat died the next day.”

  The blacksmith, jaw clenching, shook his head in disgust. “I never did such a thing.”

  “Have you any witnesses?” Kellen asked the accuser.

  At first no one came forward, but the claimant smacked an adolescent boy on the back of the head and, cap in hand, the kid moved forward. “I witnessed it, my lord.” The boy didn’t look up from the ground or sound very convincing.

  “And you are?”

  The blacksmith shook his head in disgust. “‘E’s his son.”

  Gillian stifled another giggle as Kellen sighed. “Any other witnesses?”

  No one came forward. “As there is no real proof that the blacksmith did indeed harm your animal, I will have to deny your claim.”

  “But, my lord—”

  “The matter is closed.”

  Good call, in her opinion. Gillian glanced around at the crowd to see that more people had gathered. It looked as if the entire town had turned out. The scandal sheets apparently had nothing on medieval England.

  A tall, well-dressed man came forward next. Stern-faced and confident, he dragged a shorter man by the arm who pulled and tugged and tried to
escape.

  Lady Teasdale leaned forward. “’Tis the reeve bringing a man to justice. He supervises work on Lord Marshall’s property and reports to my husband.”

  “Ah.” That might account for the air of self-righteous indignation. He was doing his job. The reeve dropped the man’s arm and the guy danced away, then glanced around and finally settled in front of Kellen, bowing his head and wringing his hands.

  The reeve gestured. “This man poached a fish from my lord’s stream.”

  Murmurs flowed through the crowd as the accused looked at Kellen beseechingly. “My lord, if I might defend myself?”

  The reeve’s lips curled and Kellen nodded. “Continue.”

  The man’s eyes darted about constantly as if seeking escape. “I was merely cooling my hands in the water, my lord, and the fish swam right into my curled fingers, it did, or I would have thrown it back.”

  The reeve snorted. “He used a hook.”

  The accused ignored the reeve and glanced around at the crowd. “In truth,” he said, raising his voice and straightening, “I did throw the fish back for it was so very big and was obviously meant for his lordship’s table.” He gestured toward Kellen.

  “But then another fish, an exceedingly puny and worthless one, swam right into my hands; and my wife, being very ill and with a great desire for fish, she came to mind.”

  “Did she now?” asked Kellen, irony lacing his tone.

  “Aye, my lord.”

  Gillian couldn’t help a smile as she started to draw again.

  It wasn’t hard to see where this story was going.

  “So I could not help myself. I did take the puny, feeble, insignificant fish home with me. Barely a mouthful it was. For my wife, that is to say.”

  Everyone laughed, clearly not believing he didn’t get his share of the fish; and Gillian, a broad smile on her face, stood. “Kellen? May I make a comment?”

  Kellen glanced back, surprise flickering across his face as he motioned her forward. “As you will.”

  Stepping beside Kellen’s chair, her sketchpad pressed to her chest, she smiled down at the man, then turned to Kellen. “I hesitate to interfere in something I don’t understand, but aren’t fish washed downstream and into the ocean? That being the case, couldn’t they be considered free fish?”

  “No.” Kellen shook his head. “All fish belong to the landowner. If they are taken without permission, shortly there would be none to speak of.”

  “Ah.” Since she had no idea if the fish population would decline if everyone suddenly took up fishing, or if the river would replenish itself with new fish coming downstream, she didn’t comment.

  She lowered the sketchpad and glanced down, then back at the defendant. “Well then, sir, may I ask you a question?” At his hopeful expression and nod, she continued. “Exactly how big was the fish that got away?” She managed the words with a straight face.

  “It was this big, yer ladyship.” He held both hands quite far apart and Gillian bit her lip. Hard. “That big, huh?” At his nod, Gillian lifted her pen and added another detail to her drawing. “Well, that was certainly generous of you to let that one go. And what illness does your wife suffer from?”

  “A babe on the way is wearisome. It vexes her so.”

  She glanced down at Kellen. “I ask you, what is a man to do in such a situation? Perhaps you could be lenient this once concerning the fish?”

  “I cannot. Then all would expect leniency and the fields would be neglected in favor of the river banks.”

  “Well then, might I suggest that this man’s payment could be in amusing us all so well?”

  Kellen’s amber gaze, sparkling amusement and approval, captured her own. “Are you amused, Lady Corbett?”

  Gillian turned her sketchpad around and handed Kellen the finished artwork, an exaggerated caricature of a man, eyes gleaming lustfully, a huge fish escaping his grasping fingers.

  Kellen laughed aloud and she couldn’t help her own smile. “Why, yes,” she said. “I do believe I am.”

  Leaning over his shoulder, she studied the picture and lowered her voice so no one else could hear. “Taking into account the fact that the one that got away is always the biggest fish ever caught, I believe you should give the man a break for being so generous in giving up such a catch; and also for being willing to tell such a good… ah… tale, don’t you think?”

  Kellen’s mouth still quirked at one corner as he studied the picture. “Aye.” He didn’t bother lowering his own voice. “He did tell the story well, did he not? And as he amused her ladyship, I will excuse him this one time with his tale being sufficient repayment. But were such to happen again, I would be most displeased.” His gaze bored into the man. “Most. Displeased.”

  Gillian, feeling unaccountably triumphant, straightened and bowed her head toward the man. In turn, he bowed repeatedly to her. “You are wise and beautiful, my lady.” Bow, bow. “Generous and a true noble.” Bow.

  Well, as to that, she couldn’t say, but she might have made a fine defense attorney if she hadn’t become an artist. As Kellen grasped her hand, Gillian jumped. His look of approval had her brows raising, especially since she hadn’t been sure he’d welcome her interference.

  She squeezed his own in return, took the proffered sketchpad and turned toward her seat. Kellen was gratifyingly reluctant to let go of her, only releasing his grip when their hands had stretched too far apart. He waited until she was seated before he called the next case.

  Luckily there weren’t many more complaints and, since Gillian didn’t interfere again, they were soon free to walk around. Kellen was quick to reclaim her hand and she tried to control her grin.

  “Everyone is staring, my lady,” said Kellen. “I cannot fault them as your beauty seems to glow as does the sun at noontime. You radiate happiness.”

  “Thank you.” Gillian could feel herself blush. She didn’t look at him but kept her gaze firmly on the wares being sold by the townspeople. Vases, cookware, cloth, her eyes skimmed them all as her attention was taken up by the man at her side.

  He leaned closer. “I was truly proud of you this day.” His breath stirred her hair and caused goose bumps to break out at the base of her neck and along her arms. “These are our people. They are as important to us as we are to them. Thy prompt aid, and my acceptance of your judgement, showed us as unified. I am well pleased with you.”

  Gillian looked up at him, her heart beating hard, leaving her lightheaded and breathless. “These compliments have to stop.”

  He grinned.

  “And so does the way you’re looking at me.”

  His warm gaze, his forbiddingly beautiful face, the attraction flaming between them, it all had to stop.

  “I would spoil you. I wish to fill the pack you value so with all the treasures it can hold. I want to be gentle with you. And more.” His voice deepened on the last two words as he gazed at her mouth. She shivered.

  “Stop already.”

  “I merely want to please you and make you smile.”

  Gillian ducked her head and his chuckle sent another shiver up her spine.

  Kellen tugged her to a nearby stand and bought a bundle of colored ribbons. Laying them across his palms, he presented them to her with a slight bow. “For your hair, fair Gillian.”

  Her cheeks were heating again as the shopkeeper smiled and listened in. Gillian lifted the bundle, studying the different colors as they walked away. “I haven’t worn ribbon in my hair since I was in grade school, and now I’m wearing them all the time. They’re beautiful, thank you.”

  She searched desperately for another subject before he could say anything else to make her blush. “What is the name of the village?”

  “Thropworth.”

  “Really? Well, some day, it will be named Marshall. For you.”

  Kellen laughed. “Think you I would name this village after myself? You talk nonsense.”

  Gillian glanced up at him and smiled. “I think Marshall is a good n
ame. Strong and masculine.”

  He stared down at her, eyes intense, then cleared his throat. “Let us hope ’tis not too masculine a name as it will soon be yours to share.”

  “I suppose it will.” She looked down. “And if we were married, then you would belong to me as well, wouldn’t you?” A girl could wish for a moment, couldn’t she?

  “Let me assure you, my lady, that I am yours, even now.”

  His words, spoken in that gravelly tone, had Gillian’s breath catching and her knees weakening. She slowly raised her head to see the possessive way he looked at her, like she was dessert and he had a sweet tooth that hadn’t been slaked in a very long while. The way his gaze dropped to her mouth, his slowly drawn-in breath, his firm and inviting lips.

  Bundling the ribbons in one hand, she reached up and touched his warm, stubble-roughened cheek with the other. “Right at this moment you do belong to me, don’t you?” She slid her hand behind his neck, her fingers tangling in the thick, silky hair at his nape and slowly she pulled him down and stood on tiptoes.

  When their lips met in the lightest of kisses, Kellen groaned, and the sound, the vibrations, the surprising softness of his mouth pressed gently against hers, caused Gillian to shiver.

  Applause snapped her out of the enticing daze and she let him go. He slowly released her, stroking her hair once as she glanced around to look at their smiling audience. Gillian, cheeks heating, did the only thing she could think to do. She smiled and waved at everyone.

  Kellen chuckled. “’Tis glad I am to see you blush, my lady. I would hate to be the only one. And can I say that your timing could not be more disappointing. I finally get to taste you and cannot pull you into my arms as I long to.”

  Gillian laughed, her heart pounding, her face heating. “Sorry about that.”

  “Never fear. When next I get you alone, ’tis a problem I will rectify.”

  That’s what she was afraid of. Their relationship had gotten too serious, too fast. Her emotions were engaged. His might be, as well. She certainly hadn’t meant for that to happen. Maybe it was time to pull back.

  She met his gaze once more, saw the heat, longing, and satisfaction burning there and felt herself weaken once more.