A Midsummer Knight's Kiss

by Elisabeth Hobbes

  ‘I’m sorry, that was forward of me.’

  ‘No,’ Robbie rushed to reassure her with a smile. ‘I’m feeling a little tender, that’s all. You made me jump.’

  In truth, her touch had been confusingly soothing and stirring at the same time and now she had removed her hand he wished he had let her keep it there. She could stroke those gentle fingers across the bruises that were starting to appear and ease the ache in the muscles that protested in his back and abdomen, arms and legs.

  He blinked, wondering how Rowenna’s innocent attempt to soothe him had led him to imagine her touching him so intimately and in other places. He dragged his eyes away from her and fixed his eyes instead on the shift in his hands. He must appear so dishevelled, standing there wet and half-clothed. He thanked Providence he had kept his hose on rather than stripping down to the loincloth he wore beneath. That was not remotely appropriate a sight for a maiden to witness!

  Living in a busy household and travelling about England, Robbie had shared rooms and beds with Sir John’s other squires. And since the abominable embarrassments of early youth had passed, he had ceased to care about nakedness. Appearing half-clothed in front of his fellow men was one thing, but in front Rowenna, Robbie felt a curious coyness.

  It wasn’t helped by the way Rowenna continued to stare at him openly as if she was looking at an elephant or manticore, or some other such oddity rather than a man. Her father and brother worked in unbearable heat in the forge and often worked bare to the waist, so she must have seen male bodies before. Why she was regarding him with such wide eyes was something Robbie could not explain.

  ‘Thank you for the shift. I should dress. I need to go speak to Sir John.’

  He thrust his arms into the voluminous linen and pulled it over his head. When his head emerged he was surprised to see an expression of disappointment on Rowenna’s face.

  ‘I hoped you would join us.’

  Robbie’s stomach clenched at the sight of her disappointment. If it had been Rowenna alone he might have considered it, but he had been unnerved by the sudden reunion with Roger and did not want to repeat that in public. There would have to be a meeting at some point, but he would delay that as long as he could.

  ‘I can’t come with you. I know today is a holiday for you, but I must attend my master and his retinue.’

  ‘Must you really? Father has secured seats in one of the front stands thanks to his influence with the Mayor. We have the best view of the lists you could imagine. Your father was speechless when he saw where we were going to be sitting.’ Her eyes gleamed once more, her momentary disappointment vanishing.

  Roger loved to watch the jousting. Robbie shared Rowenna’s smile at the thought of his stepfather’s enthusiastic response.

  ‘It’s so exciting! I’ve never seen so many things all happening at once. You’d hate to miss out,’ Rowenna wheedled.

  He folded his arms across his chest and looked sternly at her. She gazed back boldly and Robbie sighed. He took her face between his hands, his thumbs resting in the hollows beneath cheekbones that had not been there when she was younger. He was taken aback by how much he longed to study and trace his fingers over these fascinating new contours. He tilted her face up so he could smile down at her and she would understand his regret was genuine.

  ‘You know how to tempt me, Ro, but I’m not free to do what I wish as you are. I have obligations.’

  ‘Ah, that is a shame. We had hoped to see more of you before you leave.’

  ‘You’ll see me often enough, don’t fear.’

  ‘Until you leave and I get sent back to Ravenscrag.’

  She pouted, then gazed up at him with eyes that were ringed with thick, dark lashes. Her lips parted a little. Robbie felt his own do the same. He gave a wistful sigh and saw a flicker of something in Rowenna’s eye that he didn’t fully understand. He withdrew his hands slowly, reluctant to break the contact with her soft skin.

  Robbie walked to the bench and began shrugging on a tunic and fresh hose. He craned his head over his shoulder to look at Rowenna, who was folding his discarded tunic. She looked downcast, her full red bud of a mouth in a pout. As soon as she glanced up and saw he was looking at her, the pout vanished. He felt a little stab of remorse.

  Robbie pulled on his orange-and-blue tabard, buckled on his sword and added his light wool cloak of deep green. There was no need to feel remorse, really. He had to attend to his master’s wishes and could not dance to Rowenna’s tune simply because she wished him to. Besides, as much as he wanted to spend time with Rowenna, his heart tugged him to Sir John’s stand. Mary was there. He might catch her attention. He’d already delayed following Cecil because of Rowenna’s arrival.

  ‘I’ll walk with you as far as the stands,’ he said, offering her an arm. ‘But then I will have to leave you.’

  She placed her hand lightly on his arm and he felt that same tingling as they made their way slowly through the crowds. It was odd. That arm—that whole side of the body—felt more sensitive than the other, more aware of her touch and presence than the casual jostling of other people against his body in the crowd. They were buffeted as they passed through the narrow gate to the main pavilion and Robbie instinctively drew Rowenna closer, slipping his arm from beneath hers and putting it around her shoulder. When she offered no objection he slid it to her waist and drew her close to him in order to shield her from the worst of the crush. Once through the worst of it she stepped free of his embrace and frustratingly did not take his offered arm, but instead walked beside him, striding along with her head high.

  ‘You don’t want my arm?’ he asked.

  She gave him a wicked smile and raised a single eyebrow—a trick Robbie had never managed to perfect. ‘I am trying to catch a husband, remember. I can’t be seen to be claimed already by you, otherwise no one will want me and I’ll have to settle for Geoff.’

  Claiming Rowenna...

  The idea sent a shiver down Robbie’s spine; a frisson of excitement he was unprepared for. He shuddered and glanced at her to see if the words had any effect on her, but she was seemingly unaffected, with not even a hint of a blush on her cheeks. Clearly she did not mean the words to take on the significance they had. It was Robbie alone whose mind had fixed on such improper thoughts. Spending time in her company made him feel as if he had drunk a bottle of strong wine.

  Rowenna wove her way between the tents and stalls, greeting people with a deferential nod here, a graceful curtsy there. She seemed pleased by the admiring looks she provoked, of which there were many. Robbie noted every one. He tried to swallow down the possessiveness that made his throat seize. After all, she had every right to try catching the eye of any man she chose.

  ‘Would you marry your cousin?’ he asked.

  ‘My cousin?’ Rowenna’s eyes flickered over his face and she looked astonished at his question.

  ‘Your cousin Geoffrey.’

  ‘Oh.’ She covered her mouth briefly, turned away and carried on walking. ‘Father would like me to. It would strengthen his business connections if the two branches of the family allied. If I can’t find a better husband soon, I expect I’ll have to agree.’

  She dropped her shoulders and sighed. ‘I wouldn’t be unhappy, I expect. Geoffrey travels from time to time, so I could see the country. I know him well enough to be sure he wouldn’t beat me and he already knows I like to speak my mind so he couldn’t be too disapproving when I did.’

  ‘Those are your criteria for a husband?’ Robbie asked.

  ‘Those are what I would settle for if I could not have a man who loved me.’

  She’d laughed the night before when Robbie had teased her about wanting a stallion to parade, but now he saw she was speaking seriously. He could not imagine her with the overly earnest young man he had met the night before.

  ‘I thought you had higher ambitions of knights or noblemen,
’ he reminded her.

  Rowenna stopped abruptly and looked at him with a more serious expression than he could ever remember seeing on her face. ‘I’m the daughter of a bastard, Robbie. Don’t you realise what that means? If I had time, I could take you past five or six families who would pretend to have something caught in their eye rather than acknowledge me and I don’t even blame them.’

  She didn’t even sound angry, as if she had passed through bitterness and arrived at resignation. Robbie’s stomach knotted. Her words applied to him equally and more than ever he craved the time and space to tell her his secret. But doing so would open him up to the censure she spoke of and dash any chance of marrying Mary. He pressed her hand and the hardness in her eyes softened.

  ‘Anyone w-with s-sense would see past a misfortune of birth and count himself honoured to be noticed by you,’ he said.

  She blushed and her cheeks dimpled.

  ‘I should go. Mother says it isn’t seemly for a young woman to be alone somewhere like this,’ she said. ‘Farewell, Robbie.’

  She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips lightly over Robbie’s cheek before dropping down too quickly for Robbie to respond. She walked away towards the bustle of food stalls, but turned back to him in a flurry of skirts.

  ‘If I don’t see you again today, search for me at the feast on Midsummer’s Night,’ she called. ‘And promise me a dance.’

  ‘Even if it means your potential husbands m-might think you already claimed?’ he answered. His hand twitched with the urge to cover the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him. He kept it firmly by his side.

  ‘That won’t matter. Everyone dances with everyone, I believe. I intend to.’

  She laughed and walked off, her hips swaying in a manner Robbie found distracting. He promised himself he would indeed find time to dance with her at least once.

  He waited until she had vanished, then straightened his cloak and belt, ran his fingers through his hair and made his way hastily to Sir John’s stand at one end of the lists, picking out the orange-and-blue flags which decorated the rail. Cecil Hugone was already sitting on a stool on the level beneath Sir John. A little way further along the party, Mary Scarbrick and two other attendants sat below Lady Isobel, their mistress.

  Robbie bowed deeply to Lady Isobel, then knelt before his master. He made sure his eyes did not stray to the object of his desire, though he dearly wished to know if Mary had noticed his arrival.

  ‘Master Hugone tells me you won your bout and my colours are flying in yet another area,’ Sir John said. He broke off to applaud loudly, as behind Robbie a knight was unseated from his horse and crashed to the sandy floor of the tilt yard.

  ‘I am pleased to bring honour to your name.’ Robbie spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully so that he would not stumble over them. ‘I hope I will do the same tomorrow.’

  ‘You have my congratulations. Rise, Master Danby, and join us.’

  He rose to his feet and at last permitted himself to look at Mary. Her pale hair was caught beneath a wide silk band that matched her gown and her blue eyes were focused on the embroidery she held. If she had noticed his arrival, she gave no sign. Robbie made his way along the row and gave Cecil a pointed stare. Cecil grinned lazily and moved over one stool to let Robbie take his place beside Mary. She gave him a brief flicker of a smile.

  ‘Good m-m-m—’ Robbie stopped and bit his tongue. His hands curled into fists. How could he hope to charm Mary when he could not even greet her? Good day? No, he might stumble over that, too.

  ‘Are you well?’ he said finally.

  She looked at him, then at the lists where the knights were waiting to charge for the third time. She sighed and folded her hands over her embroidery.

  ‘I am, though I will be glad when today is over. I have been sitting here all morning with only jousting to amuse me.’

  Her expression made it clear it had not worked.

  ‘Perhaps I could amuse you?’ Robbie said, sliding his stool a little closer to her.

  She did not appear to object, nor did she seem particularly enthusiastic. Undaunted he continued.

  ‘Have you seen no other events?’ His hopes that she might have watched him fight faded.

  ‘No, only this.’ She sounded exceedingly bored with the jousting that was taking place. ‘You did not take part?’

  ‘I fought with s-s—’ He took a deep breath, conscious of perspiration beginning to bloom on his brow. He gestured to the sword at his side.

  Mary gave another faint smile, still looking bored.

  ‘Not everyone has the skill, I suppose.’

  ‘I enjoyed jousting as a child, but I lost my interest when I left home,’ Robbie said. No need to explain how the rift with Roger had destroyed his love for his stepfather’s favourite pastime and replaced it with an association too painful to think of.

  Mary looked thoughtful. ‘I expect it costs a lot to take part in such an event as this, whereas a sword is cheaper to come by.’

  It sounded like a slight, but Mary spoke so sweetly Robbie could not believe she intended it to be.

  ‘Everything costs a lot of money nowadays. Fortunately my family lives comfortably in Wharram Danby,’ he said.

  Mary’s eyes brightened. She sat straighter, turning her knees towards Robbie and asked him where this was. Robbie began hesitantly to describe the rolling moors that surrounded the village, the busy inn his mother brewed ale for and supervised with frightening efficiency, the flocks of sheep Roger had inherited on his father’s death. The effort was exhausting.

  ‘Ale and sheep. How...unusual,’ Mary said drily. ‘Tell me more about where you live.’

  Robbie began hesitantly to describe the village with the manor houses at each end. He exaggerated slightly, embellishing the grandeur of the buildings, the size of the flocks and succeeded in capturing Mary’s attention until a fanfare sounded and Mary turned her attention to the two knights on horseback who entered the lists.

  Robbie sat back on his stool, thinking of his stepfather. Roger carried out his required number of days of service to Horace, the new tenant-in-chief of Pickering, but was otherwise content to live quietly with his wife and daughters. He had never sought to take prizes in the tournaments as far as Robbie knew.

  Hal had been the ambitious brother, determined to amass greater riches and more influence in the guild until he had risen as high as he could. Consequently Rowenna’s dowry would be double what Anne, Lisbet and Joan’s might be. To Robbie’s mind it was another example of how feckless Roger had been over the years regarding matters that would affect his family.

  He sat forward again and began to search the crowds for a sign of Rowenna, but couldn’t spot her. Perhaps she was with their family, or perhaps she was lingering by the arena gate, hoping to catch the eye of one of the young knights waiting to take his turn. He was overcome by a sense of restlessness, a need to be walking and easing the ache in his ribs that felt suddenly tight and constricting his lungs and heart. He did not wish to spend the rest of the day sitting here, even if that meant leaving Mary. He could not simply rise and leave, however. As he had tried to explain to Rowenna, his time was not his own to command. He pulled surreptitiously at the neck of his tunic. It was a fiercely hot day now and a solution came to him in a flash. He turned to Sir John.

  ‘My lord, the day is hot. Will you permit me to bring d-drinks to cool everyone’s thirst?’

  ‘A sound idea. As a reward for the victories you and Master Hugone have achieved, I shall bear the cost myself.’

  Sir John passed Robbie a small pouch of coins. Mary gave him her warmest smile so far and he replied with a bow, holding her gaze in what he intended to be a devoted manner.

  ‘What should I bring you?’ he asked. ‘Or perhaps you would care to walk with me?’

  ‘Through the crowds?’ Mary wrinkled her nose doubtfull
y. ‘I’m not sure a lady should. I think I would fear too much what might befall me.’

  Robbie hid a smile, preparing to offer himself as her protector, but was interrupted by the sound of his name.

  ‘There you are, my boy!’

  The sound of Lord Danby’s voice booming across the crows caused Robbie’s stomach to plummet. Was it not enough for Roger to have destroyed Robbie’s belief in his past without now sabotaging his chance of future happiness? Now was the most intrusive time for his family to appear, but sure enough, strolling towards the stand were his parents, aunt and uncle.

  ‘This is your family?’ Mary asked.

  Robbie admitted they were, but was surprised to see Mary looked on them with interest, not disdain. It was clear to see why.

  Walking four abreast, the elder Danbys were an imposing sight. Each wife was on the arm of her husband and they were laughing heartily at some matter. The younger children followed behind and only Rowenna was missing. She, unlike Mary, had no qualms about walking alone in the castle grounds.

  The adults were dressed in their finest clothes. The two men were still vital and handsome, even though grey flecked their hair and beards, and their bellies hinted they were used to eating well. Roger wore his rich wool cloak thrown informally back over one shoulder, revealing a tunic edged with embroidery a finger’s length thick and an intricately decorated scabbard hanging from a glossy leather belt. Uncle Hal’s velvet doublet, robes and chain were a sign of his status in the guild for all to see.

  The crespine that concealed Aunt Joanna’s hair was red silk that seemed to give out its own light as it flowed down her back. Robbie’s mother wore a shorter veil of light blue—similar in colour to that worn by Mary—clearly chosen to best display the three sapphires set into an intricately worked gold necklace that she wore around her neck. The sapphire ring that matched her husband’s caught the sunlight, glinting on her hand where she rested it on Roger’s arm.