Secrets Of The Knight

by Julia Latham

  Diana may have had trouble being impulsive, but at least she realized it and attempted to curb it. Archie did anything he wanted, the moment he thought about it. When he was young, he would have gotten along far better with their father if he would have simply known when to keep his mouth shut. Now he glared at Tom down the length of the table, where he sat between Cicely and Diana.

  When Archie was finished with his custard, he set down his spoon with a thump, and Diana jumped. Tom put his hand on her thigh, but if he thought to calm her, then he didn’t understand what his touch did to her.

  Archie’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Tom. “I heard you came to court Cicely. You never asked my permission.”

  “You do not allow your sisters to live with you, Winslow, so why should I ask your permission? It was the king who suggested I come. I took that as my permission. And ‘court’ is an inappropriate word. I came to meet both of your sisters and see if we suited.”

  Archie ignored his reference to King Henry, as Diana knew he would.

  “Both sisters?” Archie bellowed.

  Diana flinched as the great hall grew even quieter. She prayed that Tom would not bring up their relationship, when nothing had been decided.

  Tom cocked his head, his expression confused. “Are not both young ladies eligible?”

  “They are,” Archie answered, looking around as if he realized that everyone was staring at him. “But Diana—”

  And then he simply stopped. Diana kept waiting for him to say she was more a man than a woman, one of his favorite taunts, but he didn’t.

  At last, Archie said, “Which woman you’re here to chase is not as important as your unsuitability to marry into my family.”

  Tom’s smile took on an edge. “I am a viscount, cousin to the king, wealthy beyond what you can imagine.”

  He looked around the great hall of Kirkby Keep as if judging it, and Archie’s face reddened.

  Tom continued pleasantly, “And how would those qualities make me unsuitable?”

  Archie slammed his hands onto the table. “You know damn well why you cannot find a wife, why you had to journey into the north away from London. Your brother may have been an ass, but you were supposed to be a priest. And that wasn’t good enough for you. You had to murder your own brother and take everything he had. I will not allow one of my sisters to marry into such a scandal.”

  Diana held her breath, and now it was her turn to put her hand on Tom’s thigh, pray that he could hold his temper. But she forgot that he’d spent six years doing just that. He had taken abuse from so many people, had made some foolish mistakes, it was true, but he had not allowed it to make him bitter. He still wanted a wife and a future and children.

  She herself was furious on his behalf, wanting to shout at Archie that the late viscount was worse than an ass. If Archie wanted scandal, she could give it to him, proclaiming the truth about the viscount’s death before all. But Tom’s hand covered hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. He had taken the blame for her, and obviously wanted to keep on taking it. She felt humiliated and miserably guilty.

  “You’ll be happy to know,” Tom said mildly, “that no decision about marriage has been made. Yet Mistress Cicely and I have decided that our relationship is best kept as friendship.”

  “Then she’s smarter than I ever gave her credit for,” Archie said, pushing to his feet. “What about Diana?”

  Diana’s jaw hurt from clenching her teeth so hard.

  Tom smiled at her intimately. “We’ll see.”

  He’d just openly proclaimed his sole interest in her.

  Archie reddened. “You cannot force a woman to—”

  “That is enough!” Diana said, rising to face her brother. She knew Tom had tensed at her side. He was a different man now, and she was proud of him. “Lord Bannaster is our guest, and I will not listen to another word of inhospitality.”

  Archie stared at her in astonishment. “How desperate do you have to be to think that he—”

  Now Tom slammed to his feet, the look in his eyes murderous, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “Please find your bed, Archie,” Diana said firmly. “You must be exhausted.”

  Archie opened his mouth to retort, but instead looked around again at the unfriendly faces watching him. Stiffly, he said, “I am thinking of you, Diana—and you, too, Cicely. I am your brother and it is my duty to protect you.”

  Perhaps in his strange way, he thought he was being considerate of them. The threat of scandal had a lot to do with it, of course, since he had a wife and a title to protect. But the old Archie would never have admitted to caring about his sisters’ well-being. Perhaps their long separation had changed him, if only slightly.

  Diana glanced at Cicely, then said in a quiet voice, “Archie, I thank you for your concern. I understand your objections. I am certain Cicely and I will give it great thought.”

  He had their dowries, and could have brought the money up to control them, but he didn’t. Instead he only turned away and walked upstairs.

  “Hmm,” Cicely said thoughtfully. “He seems to have mellowed.”

  Tom looked between the sisters in surprise. “That behavior was mellow?”

  Cicely only shrugged and left the table. “Good night, Lord Bannaster.”

  Diana frowned as she watched her sister ascend the stairs. It was still early in the evening for Cicely.

  “I am ready to retire as well,” Tom said, his face grim. “Sleep well, Mistress Diana.”

  He walked stiffly up the stairs, and Diana stared after him, feeling hurt and angry on his behalf. But Archie wasn’t the only one who’d hurt him.

  And she could not let him suffer.

  Chapter 20

  In the middle of the night, the only light in Tom’s bedchamber came from the low embers of the hearth. Diana leaned back against the door, waiting, but her entrance must not have disturbed him, because he didn’t move in his bed. She did not regret coming here; this was where she needed to be, at Tom’s side. She went to the hearth and added more wood, watching with satisfaction as flames caught and flickered.

  Then she rose and slowly walked across the carpeted floor, letting her dressing gown fall from her arms and puddle on the floor behind her. Nude, she lifted his coverlet to slide in beside him and saw the sheen of his open eyes.

  “I wondered at your plan,” he said softly, looking down her body with appreciative eyes that narrowed with rising passion.

  “Oh, Tom.” Shivering, she slid beneath the warmth of his blankets, encountering a cocoon of heat and the faint, masculine scent of Tom, so arousing to her.

  Naked, he pressed against her side and she moaned with sheer delight, as if she’d been denying her hunger for him for an eternity instead of days. She loved him, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  And then she felt his open mouth on her neck, a gentle sucking that made her shudder. He explored her skin with soft kisses, tender caresses. Her breasts ached for every touch he teased them with, her thighs spread as if she wantonly begged for him. Beneath the blankets that surrounded him, he rose up over her body, but only to reach more of her with his kisses. He scattered them down her belly, across her thighs, the trailing silkiness of his hair making her shudder. She touched him, tried to coax him into taking her, but he ignored her wishes and concentrated on his own purposes.

  And although she’d come to offer herself in sympathy and love, his purpose was obviously giving her pleasure.

  She stiffened when his mouth moved even lower on her body, as with gentle fingers he parted the curls at the joining of her thighs.

  “Easy,” he whispered.

  His breath in so private a place made her gasp, and she almost resisted in embarrassment as he spread her thighs farther. But then he licked her, his hot tongue a rasp that made her stifle a cry of ecstasy. She couldn’t bear the pleasure of it, squirmed and rolled her head back and forth with every stroke, arching her body off the bed as her climax seemed to explode inside
her.

  Barely a heartbeat later, Tom used his body to separate her thighs even farther and buried himself deep inside her, as if he could wait no longer. She loved his need and his passion, and held him to her, stroking his skin, leaning up to kiss his chest, his neck, and at last his mouth. They lost themselves in each other, the ecstasy of their joined bodies, the sweet fulfillment that they reveled in.

  He came so quickly that she flung her arms wide and laughed with the knowledge that he could not control himself in his desire of her.

  With a groan, he collapsed atop her, and she enjoyed his weight and the firmness of his slick muscles.

  Into her neck, he said, “You are a witch, to make me lose myself so.”

  She wrapped herself around him, arms and legs, almost humming her satisfaction.

  Sated and tender, yet still uneasy about her motives, Tom rolled to the side, then propped his head on his arm, thinking that he could look upon Diana forever. “But why did you risk so much to come to me tonight?”

  “My brother was terrible to you, even though you’d declared your interest in taking me off his hands. I had to come.”

  She thought it was about her brother? He tried not to feel disappointed, but told himself if he ever needed patience, it was now.

  He settled his hand on her breast, unable to be near her without touching her.

  “We seem to have problems with our brothers,” he said, hoping that this topic would lead to others.

  “Surely Archie cares more about his reputation and pride than about Cicely and me. That is the only reason he came.”

  “I don’t know about that. I almost thought he did not know how to say that he was concerned for his sisters.”

  Her eyes grew thoughtful, as if she’d considered that but had disregarded it out of long habit.

  “People change,” he added softly.

  She rolled onto her side to face him, breasts touching his chest, her arm looping over his waist. “We both know that.”

  “I’m not sure my brother could have.”

  She tensed.

  “Nay, do not think I am still angry with him, for I have put that behind me. And I’m not talking about his death either. ’Tis about what he tried to do to you. You were a virgin when I took you, so I know that he did not…but it must have been terrible for you.”

  She caressed his face. “Why bring up the past, Tom? It is over with.”

  “I think it is a ghost between us yet, and I don’t know how to change that except by talking.”

  She kissed him, nuzzling her nose to his. “You sometimes talk too much.”

  “Aye, but I can change. You did see me at mass the other morning.”

  She giggled. “Father Francis almost tripped on the altar when he saw you. Why did you come?”

  Shrugging, he said, “Because you introduced me to him. He seemed like a good man, more interested in his flock than in his divine authority. And you once said that God had not caused my problems; I have finally understood that you were right.”

  He rolled onto his back to look at the shadowy ceiling, and she nestled into the crook of his arm, her head on his shoulder.

  “I was always quick to judgment and resistant to changing my mind,” he continued. “My brother protected me when I was a boy, therefore, I assumed he could not do anything bad. I convinced myself of that for a long while. Even as a man I clung to my opinions, blaming the church and priests for what one man had put me through. And when I decided I had to marry, needed a wife and an heir, I was ready to persuade the first woman who met my standards. And ‘persuade’ is too nice a word for what I did to her.”

  “People change,” she repeated.

  “You showed you did, last night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, when I first came here, you threw me into a dungeon.”

  She groaned and covered her face, but he pulled her hands aside to kiss her.

  “And when your brother came here,” he said, “you wanted to confront him in righteous indignation on my behalf, but you controlled yourself.”

  “Because of you. And it seems I also have you to thank—or blame—for Cicely’s bliss.”

  He arched a brow in mock offense. “That does not sound very good.”

  Ignoring his playfulness, Diana said, “She was too happy today, and she finally admitted that you were paying her to go away. Tom, after everything she’s done—”

  “Do you not want to be happy?”

  “Well, of course, but—”

  “How long do you think it would have been after I did not choose to marry her that she would have tried to use you and your secrets to get what she wanted?”

  “Well…”

  “Exactly. It was a small price to pay to keep her from bothering us. And we know with her beauty she’ll find a man who will take her off our hands.”

  “Aye, that’s true. But she thinks she won!” Diana added in frustration.

  “Let her. You have won, because you will not have to deal with her frustration anymore.”

  She groaned. “How did you become so important to me?”

  “I like being the one you need.”

  He heard the sharp way she inhaled, knew she probably wasn’t ready to hear the words, but he had to say them.

  Looking into her distraught eyes, he said, “Diana, let me be always at your side. I love you. Marry me.”

  It had taken a lot of self-examination—and mistakes—to learn how to say those words correctly, to understand that one had to mean them, to be ready to sacrifice anything for them.

  But Diana’s eyes turned misty with tears, and they weren’t the joyful kind. Her secrets were still between them like a dark shadow in daylight.

  Before she could speak, he covered her mouth with his fingers. “Think on my words. I do not need an answer tonight.”

  She flung her arms around his neck and held on. “I must go,” she whispered.

  He rolled until she was on top of him, kissed her swiftly. She could not miss that he wanted her again, would always want her.

  She groaned and pressed her belly against his erection. “I cannot linger. If my brother decides to come persuade me against you, he won’t care what time it is.”

  “Then go. Just promise me you’ll think on my words, and believe that I love you.”

  She stared at him for a moment, eyes baffled and full of tenderness all at once. Then she whispered, “I will,” and slid from the warmth of the bed.

  She practically hopped to her dressing gown and pulled its folds about her for warmth, but her feet were yet bare, as if she hadn’t even thought of her comfort in her haste to see him.

  “Hurry, before you freeze to death,” he admonished.

  She blew him a kiss and fled his chamber.

  With a sigh, Tom lay back with his hands clasped behind his head. After so many years of anger against God, he found himself praying to Him for a miracle.

  When Diana was alone in her bedchamber, she donned her warmest night rail, dove beneath the blankets, and shivered until at last her bed was warm. When she could think again, she stared at the ceiling in shock.

  Tom loved her. He wanted to marry her. Most women would have gladly shouted to the heavens their affirmative answer. God above, she wanted to do the same.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she rolled onto her side. But other women weren’t keeping secrets of betrayal from the man they loved.

  Once again, like a tired refrain, she told herself she’d helped clear his name. That she could just put it behind her. But could she put the League behind her? Did she want to?

  She loved Tom, and that should be enough for her. But he wasn’t the one asking her to choose between him and her dream, was he? Nay, it was her own nature that was forcing a choice.

  Late the next morning just before dinner, Tom finished sparring at the tiltyard with his men. He’d taken a lot of good-natured kidding about his relationship with Diana. They all kept giving him advice, from laughing in
sistence that he compose a sonnet to her, to suggestions that he ride high into the dales to gather wildflowers for her—In the winter? he pointed out.

  “I am surprised Winslow is not out here with us,” Tom said, as Talbot helped him remove his training armor. “One would think he would want to show me his skill, hoping I’ll back down from my pursuit of Diana.”

  “Let him become used to you, my lord,” Talbot said. “Surely he wants his sister happy.”

  “What is he going to do, deny me a dowry? I certainly do not care. And Diana is a woman grown, not a girl. When we marry, there is nothing he can do about it.”

  “When?” Talbot echoed innocently, a smile at the corners of his lips.

  Tom only shook his head. How could he explain that he was not Diana’s only choice in life?

  When he went inside to wash for dinner, Mary hurried toward him. The worry in her face made his smile fade.

  “Milord,” she said, “have you seen Mistress Diana?”

  “She did not come down to the tiltyard with me, Mary. I assumed she was working inside this morn.”

  Mary shook her head, beginning to wring her hands in a display of nervousness. “She is nowhere within the castle. I’ve spoken to all the servants and we have not seen her since mass. I did not see her within the ward.”

  “Did you question all the servants working outside?”

  “Nay,” she said, looking hopeful. “I will send the valets.”

  “I’ll go, too.”

  Finally, after a half hour of questioning everyone Tom could find, a young groom stammered to him that Diana had taken her horse and gone for a ride.

  Tom would have felt better about knowing what she was doing, but she’d left hours before.

  The wind was picking up, and the sky threatened snow.

  “Where is Lord Winslow?” Tom asked the groom.

  “He’s gone, too, milord. He said he was visitin’ the village.”

  “By himself?”

  “He took two of his men.”

  Uneasiness roiled inside Tom. Diana did not owe him every detail of her whereabouts, but he couldn’t believe she’d be gone so long without leaving word. In winter, no less.