Return to Honor (Knights of Honor Book 10)

by Alexa Aston

  Curious, she asked, “What do you and Moss do when the troupe disbands for winter?”

  “We return to London and put the costumes and props into storage. Keep some of the horses and wagons and sell the rest. We live near the river and deliver goods coming off the boats.” He shrugged. “Eventually, I suppose we’ll do that instead of hitting the road each spring.”

  “Where do others in the troupe go?”

  He explained how Gylbart stayed in London and worked at the tavern his sister and her husband owned. Oddo left for Sussex, where he worked in his family’s inn and tavern. Hamlyn went north, where he had a wife and children, but never revealed what he did once he arrived there.

  “And King Ralph, believe it or not, gets his hands dirty as a carpenter. Jopp is also learning the trade. Ralph’s brother has five daughters and no sons so he welcomes Ralph and Jopp back each autumn. They build mostly furniture.”

  “Speaking of Ralph, we need to discuss the new plays and costumes he’s interested in me making,” Jessimond said. “His list was a long one. I didn’t want to start anything until we had spoken.”

  Elias chuckled. “Ralph is always full of ideas. Frankly, most every play is the same story. There’s a struggle between good and evil. Some type of devil who makes an appearance, tempting the hero. A sword fight or two. Death. Then someone rising miraculously from the dead and ridding the world of all that is bad.”

  She chuckled. “You’re telling me we don’t need any new costumes.”

  “Not really. Oh, once we arrive at Fullminster, I’ll give you coin to purchase some new cloth. You can make up a few new things to please Ralph. He is an excellent actor. I would hate to lose him over something like this.”

  “Do you think he would leave the troupe?”

  “Ralph’s temper can be fierce, especially when he’s not getting his way. He threatens to leave at least seven times a season. He’s never made good on it, though, and I doubt he ever will. Still, if I can please him in this small way, I will. If merely to keep peace within the group.”

  Jessimond hesitated and then said, “Do you realize some of the other mummers are tired of Ralph playing the lead role every time?”

  Elias snorted. “I’m sure you’re meaning Gylbart. He’s never satisfied with anything. As for any others?” He shrugged. “They can stay or leave. ’Tis actually easy to find people to replace them. You’d be surprised how many seem to have the urge to roam the countryside and pretend to be someone they’re not.”

  Jessimond thought that description sounded like her but remained silent, nursing hurt feelings.

  Finally, she asked, “What of Agatha? Where does she go when the troupe scatters?”

  He frowned. “I never really thought of it. When her parents were alive, they went to Kent. She and Reba did the same after their mother passed.”

  “I heard Reba left the troupe last year and wed. Would Agatha have gone with her sister?”

  “Nay. Reba was always full of herself. Would argue with a log if given the chance. She could be something spiteful to Agatha. Even cruel at times. Reba would not have wanted the girl to visit for any length of time, especially with a new husband.” Elias paused. “I’m afraid I have no idea what Agatha did. She merely showed up again when it was time to leave London.”

  Jessimond bit back the sharp retort on her tongue. No one in the company seemed to care about the girl. It reinforced her decision to take Agatha with her at the end of the season. Someone had to care for her.

  That someone might be Peter. Jessimond knew he had eyes for the young woman. Bringing Agatha back to Kinwick would not only secure her future but might also lead to marriage with Peter. She would try to see how Agatha felt about life on the road with the mummers and if she ever had any interest in settling down in one place.

  They rode several more hours. Elias answered all of Jessimond’s questions about where the mummers would travel the rest of the season and about various members of the group. By the time they arrived at Fullminster, she knew much more than she had about the troupe.

  “Remember to look at the various stalls offering cloth for the new costumes once the vendors have set up their wares,” Elias reminded her.

  “I will spend your coin wisely, Elias. I drive a hard bargain.”

  As they had at Kinwick, the mummers pulled the carts close together and began unloading their goods in a large field. She noted how Peter blended seamlessly with the others and did his share of the work. Soon, the wagons had been unloaded and the men began erecting the tents. She would need to think about a hearty meal because everyone would be hungry after such physical labor.

  Jessimond saw a couple heading toward them. By their dress, she assumed the pair to be Lord Guy and Lady Jeanette.

  The nobleman gathered the troupe members and said, “We are, indeed, happy to have you back at Fullminster this year. My wife and I look forward to hearing your songs and seeing your stories acted out. As a thanks, a stag has been butchered and prepared for you so that you can feast upon it tonight.”

  The group cheered loudly and Elias and Moss thanked their host and hostess. The couple left and a cart appeared soon after with the promised meal in large pots. By then, the tents had been set up and the men had gone to the nearby stream to wash. Jessimond and Agatha helped distribute the food, ladling the thick stew into bowls. Besides the stag, Lady Jeanette had sent stewed apples and several rounds of cheese. The troupe ate in silence, exhausted after their long day.

  After the meal, Elias and Moss approached her.

  “We think it would be a good idea for you to sing some with Bartholomew,” Moss began. “Your voices blend well together. We’ve never seen a man and woman perform with one another as troubadours. It would draw greater crowds.”

  “Bartholomew is the troubadour,” Jessimond countered. “I merely sing for fun. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to resent me.”

  “He wouldn’t,” promised Elias. When she hesitated, he said, “Think about it, Jess. You don’t have to sing tomorrow. In fact, come see the plays. Listen to Bartholomew perform. Get a feel for what goes on in the entertainment area. Then you can make a decision.”

  Jessimond thought that a good compromise. “I’ll do that. After I shop for new material.”

  She turned and found Marcus at her elbow.

  “You’ll be making new costumes?”

  “Aye. Not as many as Ralph would prefer but enough to please him.”

  “The stalls will be set up in the morning. May I accompany you as you look for what you need? I can hold whatever you buy.”

  “Don’t you have better things to do than carry my goods?” she teased.

  His warm gaze caused her belly to turn over. “I have plenty of time to help you, Jess, before I am needed elsewhere. Besides, I need more practice at buying goods under your watchful eye.”

  “All right,” she agreed, looking forward to spending more time with him.

  The troupe bedded down for the night. Jessimond returned to the tent she and Agatha shared.

  It took her a long time to fall asleep.

  *

  Jessimond awoke early after a night of tossing and turning. She hoped she hadn’t disturbed Agatha’s sleep. She emerged from the tent as the camp began to stir and made sure those already up had bread and ale to break their fast.

  Marcus appeared, his dark locks tousled. He raked his fingers through his thick hair, which only made her wish she were the one taming it. The thought troubled her. She barely knew this man yet already her body quickened and came alive when he drew near.

  “Are you ready to walk the stalls in search of bargains?” he asked.

  “Do you think they will be open this early?”

  He shrugged. “Most should be. Once they see a paying customer is at hand, they will make themselves available.”

  They strolled side-by-side to the area where the booths stood. A few were empty but most already had someone stationed with the displayed goods, ready to negotia
te with buyers.

  Marcus pointed out various stalls for her to visit, noting which might give her a better price.

  “You seem very familiar with the sellers and their wares,” Jessimond noted, wondering how many of the women he’d made friends with since he’d called everyone by name as he described their booths and what they sold.

  “I have a lot of time on my hands. After Rand and I exhibit our sword skills or perform our joust, I am free to come and go as I please. Sometimes, I go to the plays and have even acted in a few in a minor role. It’s allowed me to wander around and get to know the others traveling with us, beyond the mummers.”

  “Where should I start?”

  He told her the three stalls to visit that would have the best quality of cloth. Knowing she spent another’s coin, Jessimond wanted to get the most for the money Elias had given her last night. Both she and Marcus bid for material in wool and linen for the next half-hour, and she came away with exactly what she would need to complete the costumes Ralph had urged her to make.

  Marcus accompanied her back to her tent. They saw Agatha rolling a wheelbarrow, taking the last of the props to the stage area.

  “I’ll be behind the stage if you want to come watch from there,” Agatha said. “You can even help me hand out some of the props if you wish.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” Jessimond promised.

  She held the flap of their tent open. Marcus ducked inside so he could lay their purchases on her pallet. His large frame filled so much of the space that her movements were restricted. Jessimond knelt so she could separate the cloth into different piles and think about what she would start first. She would begin sewing after she’d spent time observing Bartholomew sing and the mummers’ first performance of the day.

  As she moved the cloth, she discovered a rich, red wool that resembled rubies in the depth of its color. She rose, the material in her hands.

  “I’m afraid one of the merchants accidentally included something we didn’t buy,” she told Marcus.

  His eyes only gleamed at her. “’Twas no mistake.”

  Confusion filled her. “I did not pay for this, Marcus. I need to return it.”

  Jessimond started around him but he caught her arm.

  “I did pay for it, Jess,” he said softly.

  “You . . . do you wish for me to make a new tunic for you or Rand?” His fingers scorched her arm. She was aware how close their bodies were to one another.

  “Nay.” His eyes glowed at her. “I bought it . . . for you.”

  “For me?” She hated how her voice squeaked. Swallowing, she asked, “Why?”

  Marcus lifted the material from her hands and placed it on the pallet again. “I thought the color would suit you. I want you to sew something for yourself. You’ve taken care of the mummers this past week. Now, do for you.”

  Her knees grew shaky. “Marcus, I cannot accept a gift like that. The wool is very fine. I’m sure it was terribly expensive.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re worth it, Jess.”

  At that moment, Jessimond knew Marcus was going to kiss her.

  Chapter 8

  Marcus saw in Jess’ eyes that she knew what was coming. A moment later, his lips brushed against hers. He didn’t know the last time he’d kissed a woman who’d never been kissed. Mayhap never.

  Marcus planned to take his time. The mummers were all at the play, including Agatha, getting ready for their first performance of the day. No one would miss them.

  And no one would interrupt.

  His fingers lightly held her in place as he continued to softly move his lips against hers, setting a languid pace that would be hard to keep. Already, her scent drove him wild. She smelled of vanilla and warm sunshine, a delicious combination.

  Jess hadn’t moved beneath his fingers. For a moment, the look of panic in her eyes had made him believe she might flee. She’d stayed, though.

  Now, he wanted to show her why that decision was wise.

  Slowly, he took small nips at her full, bottom lip, the one which had tempted him beyond measure. Marcus heard each quick intake of breath every time he did so, followed by a tiny whimper. He ran his tongue along that sweet, lower lip, gaining a small taste of the woman who had haunted his dreams.

  But when it came to Jess, he was a greedy man.

  His tongue found the seam of her mouth and teased her lips apart. He dipped inside, still holding her steady, and tasted the honey of her mouth. An unexpected ripple of pleasure ran through him.

  It made him want more. Much more.

  Marcus drew her to him now, needing the feel of her body next to his. Her full breasts pressed against his chest. His hands slid down her slender back. He spread his fingers wide, keeping her against him even as he sampled her again and again.

  He became aware of two things at once. One, Jess’ arms had wrapped around him, letting him know she wasn’t going anywhere. The outline of her hands branded his back. The second surprised him, though it shouldn’t have.

  She began kissing him back.

  At first, she was tentative as she felt her way, her inexperience showing. But Jess Gilpin was a clever woman. Within minutes of being kissed for the first time, she imitated—and then improved—on what he did. As her hands roamed his back, she kissed him eagerly, with passion, stroking his tongue with hers until he groaned into her mouth.

  A war now ensued between them, one for domination and control. His hands moved past her waist and cupped her rounded buttocks, kneading the tender flesh. She clutched him more tightly, her breasts swelling against him.

  Marcus longed for more but knew they must stop. Gradually, he went from deepening each kiss to slowly withdrawing, until finally he forced himself to totally break the kiss.

  Still, he held her close, reluctant to part from her, his lips traveling up her delicate nose and landing on her brow. He pressed one last, tender kiss there and then studied her face.

  Jess’ lips were bruised from their love play. Her eyes appeared dazed. Clouded. Finally, they cleared and focused on him. Slowly, the corners of her mouth turned up.

  “I rather like kissing,” she informed him, her smile growing.

  Jess brought her hands from his back and moved them along Marcus’ chest, hard as a stone wall. They rose higher until her fingers locked behind his neck and pulled him toward her. Marcus might think they were finished but Jess was only starting. She yanked down hard and his mouth crashed against hers, his fingers tightening on her bottom, digging into her flesh.

  She teased him as he had teased her, nipping and licking her way until she slipped her tongue inside his mouth.

  Oh, praise the Virgin Mary! This. Was. Heaven.

  Jessimond remembered every little trick Marcus had taught her and then added a few of her own. She knew they worked their magic. Not only did the fever within her grow, but she felt the pounding of his heart against her breast increase until it drummed out of control. His hold on her tightened. His mouth took command once more and, this time, she let him, giving in to the soaring feelings within her.

  They kissed until she thought their lips might fall away, scorched until the fire ignited between them had consumed them whole, the flames burning high into the sky.

  Then suddenly, Marcus released her, pushing her away, confusing her. Jessimond’s entire body trembled. She found it hard to stand on her own. Tears threatened to fall when she realized she had disappointed him.

  “What . . . did I . . . am I doing something wrong?” she asked.

  Marcus stood panting, raw need written across his face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can do better.”

  He jerked her toward him, enfolding her in his massive arms, his lips brushing her hair. “Nay, sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. In fact, you did everything right. Too right, I’m afraid.”

  Jessimond wriggled in his arms and then discovered something stiff and uncompromising between them. She realized his member had grown as hard as a
rock. Glancing up, his brilliant blue eyes had darkened in passion and desire.

  “We must stop, Jess,” Marcus said softly. Giving her a wry smile, he added, “You can feel why.”

  “You want me?” she asked breathlessly, secretly delighted at the notion.

  His hand cupped her cheek. “Aye. More than I have ever wanted another woman.”

  “I doubt that,” she said, unable to believe she could have that great an effect upon him. “You are a very physical man, Marcus. I’m sure you’ve coupled with dozens of women. Ones far more experienced than I. Ones who have brought you pleasure.”

  He smoothed her eyebrows and then traced his finger down the slope of her nose until he placed it against her lips.

  “I’m no saint, Jess. I don’t claim to be. But your kiss has kindled something within me that I’ve never felt.”

  She started to speak but he pressed his finger against her lips to silence her.

  “I want to kiss you again, Jess Gilpin. I want to do more than that. I want to bury my face in that glorious mane of golden hair. Press it between your breasts. I want to feel those breasts. Lick them. Suck them. My cock wants to bury itself deep inside you and never leave.”

  Jessimond shivered at not only the words but the passion behind them.

  “Those are things for you to do with a husband, sweetheart. Not me.”

  He gave her a hard, swift kiss and released her. Jessimond felt woozy, as if she’d had too much wine to drink.

  “Stay in your tent for a while,” he warned. “Your lips are swollen and your face is flushed.”

  Marcus stepped to the tent’s flap, his eyes still burning. “I will see you later.”

  With that, he was gone.

  Jessimond sank to her knees, knowing her feet could no longer hold her up.

  She had wanted to leave Kinwick to find adventure and experience love.

  Was this the start?

  She touched the tips of her fingers to her lips in wonder. Marcus’ mouth had been there just moments ago. Already, she craved his kiss again. His touch. Never had she felt safer and yet more exhilarated than in the circle of his arms.