Loving the Knight: Book 2: Eryndal & Andrew (The Hansen Series: Rydar & Grier and Eryndal & Andrew)

by Kris Tualla

  “What about the fallow lands?”

  “Common crofters are moving into the manors. They are working the lands and keeping the profits of their labors!”

  Eryn drew a deep breath. Her next words were critical. “And is that not better for Scotland?”

  Drew’s face reddened. “How is that better for Scotland?”

  “It is impossible to tax a field that produces nothing, is it not?”

  “But they have no right!” he bellowed.

  “And you would have us starve instead?” she shouted. Immediately she realized her mistake. Us. Damn her tongue.

  His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. “That’s what ye’ve done, isn’t it?”

  Terror hot as fire streaked through her veins.

  “What?” she croaked.

  “The meeting with your tenants—ye have given them the land!”

  He said ‘your’ tenants. She was not yet accused.

  “No! No, I have not.”

  “Then what did ye do?” He leaned forward. “Tell me, because ye ken I will discover the truth.”

  Eryn paused. She laid her hand over Drew’s and felt his twitch. She corralled her bucking heart and commanded her breath to slow. She forced as much calmness into her tone as she could muster.

  “We lost more than half of our male serfs in the Death. Many more have simply left. I do have Liam to think about.”

  Drew’s jaw muscles flexed and rippled under his sculpted cheeks, but he controlled his words. “And?”

  “And I needed to keep the remaining men here to work the estate. If I did not, there would be nothing for Liam to inherit. You do see that, do you not?” she pleaded.

  His gaze slid sideways, then back to hers.

  “Aye.” It was a grunt.

  “So, I offered them the choice: remain as serfs under the care of the estate, or…”

  Drew’s dark stare pierced her armor and the breach was nearly fatal to her courage. “Or what, Lady Bell?”

  The reinstated formality was cold as the December snows outside and stung her as painfully. “Or they can purchase their plots of land over the next ten years.”

  “How?” Another grunt.

  “They—they are to give me one tenth of everything they produce each year. In ten years their debt is paid.” She hated that she faltered. Where was her saucy tongue when she truly needed it?

  “What happens then?”

  Her shoulders fell as her bravado did the same.

  “If we are yet alive, come back and ask me,” she snapped. Her eyelids stung with the infuriating threat of tears. She rubbed them, feigning exhaustion, and hoped that action would both fool him, and staunch them.

  Drew pulled back and considered her in silence, his body tensed and coiled like a cat ready to pounce. He was clearly not pleased with her actions, and it was obvious her words had done nothing to sway him.

  But the deeds were signed and sealed. And he would soon be gone. And then she would go back to what she had been doing all along.

  Drew slid his chair back. The sudden scrape of wood exploded in the room and made her jump. She looked up at him, but his back was turned. Slowly, he moved to the doorway.

  When he turned to look at her, she held her breath.

  “Kennan and I will be requiring your hospitality until the first day of January. We will pass Christmas here. I trust this will no’ be a hardship.” He bowed slightly. “Sleep well. Eryn.”

  In a swirl of black and purple, he quit the room.

  Eryn remained in her seat, stunned and unable to move. Drew would stay through Christmas? Until the first day of January? That was four weeks or more.

  Could her situation get any worse?

  Chapter Six

  Drew took the stone stairs three at a time. He threw open the door to the master chamber, heedless of the bang it made against the stone wall.

  Damn the woman.

  Ian yelped and leapt up from his perch by the fire. “M-my lord?” he squeaked.

  Drew stopped. He pulled a massive breath, one that seemed to go all the way to his toes, and let it out slowly. There was no reason to terrify the servants.

  “My apologies, Ian.” He began to undress. “Take care of my clothes and ye may go.”

  Once the man was gone, Drew dragged a chair to the fire. He sat in his nightshirt, elbows on his knees, and stared unseeing at the flames. He needed to ponder the enigmatic Lady Bell and her unconscionable actions.

  It simply would not do. Could not.

  Though he’d seen the same things happen dozens of times, how was he going to explain to King David that the social structure of his country was in shambles? Their monarch sat in the Tower, not only safe from the devastation, but not even seeing it. It fell to Drew to make the man understand that more than half his subjects were dead—and not only the poor. Men of all ranks succumbed. There remained gaping holes in the various levels of authority that must be dealt with, and soon. Else the people would take matters into their own hands.

  Anarchy.

  What was done here on the Bell lands was unique, he had to admit. This was the first time he encountered anyone—let alone a woman—who crafted a plan and put it into motion. Her plan had flaws, that much was certain, but at the least Eryn had made an attempt to keep order. And order was crucial.

  His entire life was built on it.

  Eryn. As her name formed, and his mind spoke it, his body tingled. Part in fury and part with reactions he could not afford to have.

  She stunned him tonight. Both with her beauty and her audacity.

  As she challenged him outright she showed no fear. Did she not understand that—as the king’s emissary—he could have her put to death? Her actions bordered on treason; no one but the king had the right to act as she had in dispersing lands!

  But the way her cheeks flushed made those pale green eyes look like cool flames. Her full lips spat words at him, and all he could think of was kissing them into silence. Perhaps staying here was a mistake. Perhaps he should complete his assessment quickly and head toward London immediately afterwards.

  Even as he considered that path, he knew he had no desire to follow it. He was tired, and in many ways defeated. The thought of riding hundreds of miles in the gathering winter made him shudder. No, he would simply need to resist her womanly wiles and remain celibate. After all, he accomplished that feat since the dying began. What were a few more weeks? Once he was finally in London he could find a warm, unencumbered harbor to slip his vessel into.

  And now he knew Eryn’s secret. He could relax.

  Eryn.

  December 3, 1354

  When Eryn descended the stairs the next morning, Drew was waiting for her. She ran her hand along the railing so she would not need to look down at her steps. Instead, she pinned her gaze to his and she smiled. He did not smile back.

  “I trust you slept well,” she offered.

  “I’ll see young William now. Bring him to the Hall.” His words were clipped. He spun in that direction.

  “But in the morn—” she began.

  “He is with his tutor. Aye, I ken.” He paused and his autumn eyes appeared over one shoulder. “Shall I ask the man myself, then?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll fetch him,” she said in a measured tone.

  She wanted to strangle the pompous ass of a knight. How dare he be so rude? Instead, she calmly turned and ascended the stairs.

  Liam was silent as he followed Eryn back down to the Hall. When she appeared at the door of his school room, he tossed her an impudent grimace. But when she said the knight insisted on seeing him right away, the look in his eyes shifted, wavering between fright and awe.

  Once there, Eryn pulled Liam from behind her skirts and gave him a little push in Drew’s direction. The knight wore the same regal clothing as he had the day before. Clearly, he was proclaiming his position and his power to anyone with eyes. Her outspokenness the night before grew like a hot boulder in her belly. What would he
r tongue cost her now?

  Drew crooked his middle finger. “Come here, young William.”

  Liam shuffled across the floor until he stood a few feet from the imposing figure seated by the fire.

  “Are the chickens safe?”

  He nodded. “Aye.”

  “And have ye shown respect to the Lady Bell this day?”

  Liam glanced back at her. “Ye mean—”

  “I mean the Lady Bell, William. A knight says what he means to say.” Drew’s brows lowered and he pinned the boy with a stern look.

  “Oh. Aye. And I have.” His voice quavered a bit.

  “That’s good.” Drew leaned back. “I’ve another question. Do ye ken there was a meeting yesterday with your tenants?”

  Eryn’s breath stopped. Oh my Lord! What is he doing?

  The boy’s weight shifted. “Aye…”

  “And do ye ken what that meeting was about?”

  Liam shrugged and glanced again at Eryn. She stood near his side, her hands clasped tightly behind her. This was it. Her plan would be sundered and she would be cast into the cold.

  “Geoffrey said L-lady Bell was going to make the men stay here and work.”

  Drew raised his eyes to Eryn’s for the first time since she escorted Liam into the Hall. Meeting his intense gaze made her blood tingle in spite of her fear. She forced her lungs to inflate. The boulder in her belly grew.

  “And who might Geoffrey be?” he directed the query to Liam while he stared at Eryn.

  “He’s the cob—constable,” Liam stuttered.

  Drew frowned. “Cob constable?”

  “He is the constable,” Eryn interceded. “But he is also a cobbler.”

  One black brow arched. “Is he one of our anarchists?”

  “No!” she lied. “His… father was constable before him.”

  The second black brow joined its mate. “But he makes shoes? How does that work?”

  Eryn’s frustration bubbled out before she could cap it. “There isn’t enough tax money left to pay him to be constable after King David gets his lion’s portion! A man has got to eat, hasn’t he? Besides, no one else was willing!”

  Liam swung to face her, his eyes wide with shock. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Damn my tongue.

  Drew rubbed his palm over his cleanly shaved chin as he glared at her. He appeared to be contemplating something quite intently. Eryn prayed it wasn’t her much deserved dismemberment. She lowered her hand and lifted her chin.

  The knight’s soft voice filled the silence. “Thank ye, young William. Ye may return to your tutor.” Liam bolted from the room.

  “You,” he pointed at Eryn and stood. “Are coming with me.”

  She watched the man in front of her rise to his full height, forcing her to look up at him. “Where?”

  “I think I shall see for myself what your mischief has wrought.” He tilted his head. “Ye do ride, do ye no’?”

  She bristled. “Yes. I ride very well, in fact.”

  A corner of his mouth twitched. “Good.”

    

  Drew waited in the courtyard astride his stallion. He wondered what sort of mount might appeal to the lady. A small mare—the choice of most refined women—even if her long legs might skim the meadow grasses? No. More likely an older gelding, one without an excess of spirit.

  Or perhaps a mule to match her temperament.

  He heard heavy hoof beats drumming closer. He swiveled in his saddle, expecting to see Kennan rounding the building and wondered what kept Eryn. But it wasn’t Kennan.

  Eryn sat astride a red gelding that matched his stallion in size. The horse tossed his head and pranced when Eryn slowed his approach. He was magnificent. And she looked magnificent on his back.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” she said, lowering her lashes.

  Drew said the second thing that came to his mind. “Why did ye geld him?”

  Eryn’s mouth opened, then closed and puckered. She frowned at him. “Who?”

  “Your mount, of course!”

  “Oh!” She blushed beautifully and gave a sheepish grin that went straight into Drew’s braies. “He was a randy boy, but I could no longer afford the taxes on his get. I couldn’t sell them either, what with the dying.”

  She patted the animal’s neck then reached up to stroke an ear. “I think the act was harder on me. I hated to do it.”

  All sorts of inappropriate comments about who would regret the act more bounced around Drew’s skull, making him momentarily mute. That and the very unwelcome fullness under the hem of his tunic. He blessed the chilly weather which required multiple layers of clothing, and willed his arousal to cease.

  “Is Kennan near ready?” What was taking the man so long?

  “I told him we didn’t require his presence today.”

  Drew looked at her in surprise. “Did ye?”

  “Yes. Shall we go, then?”

  Drew canted his head to inspect the sky. Patches of blue snuck around dark-bottomed cloud clusters that portended rain. Well, sleet in these temperatures.

  Without waiting on his answer, Eryn tapped her heels to the gelding. He sprang forward. She led Drew’s mount out of the courtyard at a brisk trot

    

  Wind blew through her hair, tugging bits from its braid. Cold as it was, it made her feel glorious and unfettered. She had not ridden in—when did she ride last? No matter. Today she and her favorite steed Rory were together and there were miles of meadows and roads in front of them.

  And one silent knight beside them.

  Drew sat in the saddle with ease, she noticed. But of course that would be true. By his own admission he had been in the saddle for nearly two years past. She didn’t attempt conversation as they rode. What would she say?

  I am so excited to show you how I broke the king’s law!

  As they came upon the cluster of crofts, Eryn tried to look at them as if seeing them for the first time. Her evaluation of them as ‘dismal’ still held true. Half were abandoned and sported fallen roofs, rotting doors and missing shutters. And another small percentage looked precariously better, though inhabited.

  But there were signs of new activity in the rest: new thatches, repaired shutters, doors that actually kept the snow outside. Eryn did a quick figure and realized those were the ones who were buying their own land.

  She turned to Drew, intending to apologize for the sad state of the crofts. But his puzzled frown stopped her.

  “What’s amiss, Drew?” she asked.

  He watched a pair of men tossing up thatches and tying them to a roof. “Who are they?”

  “Hugh Scott and his son. They are the last of their family.” And the first in line to sign the purchase agreement.

  “Is that their croft, then?”

  “No, they live over there.” Eryn pointed to a refurbished house. “They are helping young Dougal with his roof, so it appears.”

  Drew turned to look at her. “Young Dougal?”

  “Yes. He’s only seventeen but a hard worker.” Shite. Don’t ask me.

  “And did ye strike the bargain with him?”

  He asked. Eryn squared her shoulders, ready to challenge the kingly beast.

  “I did.” She put up her hand to stop him from interrupting her. “And I know what you are going to say: he’s not yet one and twenty so it’s not a binding agreement. That is true. But I told him my word went beyond the law.”

  “Apparently so,” Drew drawled.

  “That is not what I meant!” she snapped.

  Drew shook his head. It was impossible to guess what his thoughts were. He dismounted and tossed her the stallion’s reins. Before she could object, he strode away from her and toward young Dougal’s croft.

    

  It was, indeed, sleeting as Drew and Eryn made their way back to the manor. He was silent again, not wishing to engage her in conversation while he pondered both the inclement weather and what he saw happening on her est
ate. And more importantly—what he should do about it.

  He also pondered his hostess. He hadn’t figured her out as yet, although two things were certain: she was both as beautiful and as prickly as a Scottish thistle. Something about her did not quite fit, as if he was trying to push a flat plank into a drilled hole. He was certain he would puzzle it out—in time.

  After they rode into the courtyard, they continued around to the stable and dismounted inside.

  “No sense in the boys catching their death because we were too lazy to come to them,” Eryn said.

  It was things like that, Drew realized with a jolt.

  Eryn seemed to have unusual empathy for the lower classes. High-born ladies, gently raised, seldom concerned themselves with the feelings or efforts of their servants. Why did she? Perhaps it was a result of her abbey schooling. Certainly the nuns there would have impressed on her the importance of charity.

  “That must be it.”

  “Be what?” she asked. Her green eyes glowed in the pale light of the stable and her cheeks were ruddy with cold. In her dark green cloak she looked like Christmas.

  “Nothing. I was musing aloud.” Drew dismounted and reached up to help her down without thinking about it.

  Eryn paused and a shadow passed through her features afore she looked away. With one foot still in the stirrup, she swung her other leg over her gelding’s rump. Drew gripped her waist and lowered her to the ground. She turned to face him, but he neglected to step back. That was a mistake.

  She was pinned between his body and the gelding’s flank. Her hip brushed his and her bosom—curving above the hands still resting on her waist—rose and fell with her breaths. The scents of cold, horse, and leather mingled with the lavender of her soap. Her lips parted.

  His eyes devoured them.

  “Am I to be taken prisoner so soon?” she whispered.

  Drew took two quick steps back and bowed, thankful again for the layers of privacy his clothing offered. “No my lady. Ye are free to go.”

  She walked away, her hips swaying. Her departing voice floated to him.

  “I’ll send a warm bath up before supper.”