A Midsummer Knight's Kiss

by Elisabeth Hobbes

  Emboldened, she wove her way through the crowd to stand within Robbie’s eyeline. He looked in her direction and stiffened, the laugh freezing on his face, then vanishing. She almost turned away, but then the smile returned, became genuine, softer and moved to his eyes as well as his lips.

  ‘My apologies for intruding, Master Danby,’ Rowenna said, walking towards him and noting with pleasure that the women moved aside like the Red Sea parting before her. ‘I have a message from a family member.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll come immediately.’

  His reply was out of his mouth almost before she had finished and he was moving, muttering apologies to the group as he left them to follow Rowenna. She slipped behind a pillar to a quieter area of the hall.

  ‘Who sends a message? What is wrong?’ Robbie asked.

  ‘The message is from your cousin.’ Rowenna bit her lip. ‘She said some things she regrets. She wishes to apologise for them.’

  She looked at the ground. Robbie took hold of her hand and lifted it. Instead of kissing it, he placed it within his hand against his chest.

  ‘You sent me for wine, but I failed my duty,’ he remarked.

  ‘I don’t need any wine,’ Rowenna muttered. ‘You were right. Let’s not argue any more.’

  ‘I was unfair,’ Robbie said.

  ‘You have your opinions. I dare say some of them were right.’ Rowenna affected a smile. ‘You can’t go through your whole life being wrong.’

  He graced her with a slight smile and her spirits lifted a little. They stood in silence, watching the dancing. Men and women stood around in groups, flirting and laughing. Geoffrey caught her eye and she waved, though with little enthusiasm. Mary was dancing with an unknown nobleman, her blond hair gleaming.

  ‘I’ll wager she washes it with saffron water,’ Rowenna muttered under her breath. She pushed a stray strand of her own dark locks back into their golden net, conscious of Robbie watching her with an odd expression on his face. She hoped he hadn’t heard her comment.

  ‘I thought this would be more fun,’ she admitted. ‘I love dancing, but the chatter and gossip bores me. How can you stand to be around such empty-headed frivolity?’

  ‘I sometimes wish I could leave all this behind me, too,’ Robbie admitted. He held his arm out.

  ‘Would you like to take a w-walk outside? It will be cooler and quieter. I don’t want to dance.’

  This was the second time a man had suggested they venture out into the garden and now there was no hesitation or reservation in Rowenna’s mind, only an all-consuming urge to be alone with Robbie.

  ‘I don’t want to dance any more, either,’ she agreed. ‘I see you so rarely and you’ll be gone before long.’

  She did not know if he had the same purpose in mind as Cecil had, but she knew without question that she would not refuse if he did.

  Chapter Ten

  Arm in arm, Robbie and Rowenna made their way to the courtyard. Torches burned in sconces set into the walls where insects buzzed frantically around the flames. A rowdy group of youths sat drinking on the closest wall, and somewhere behind them young couples were giggling together at some private amusement. Robbie instinctively shied away from both groups. Rowenna had called him staid and perhaps she was right. He escorted Rowenna away from the bustle and they wove through the low hedges to the opposite side of the square where it was darker and quieter.

  ‘Mmm...’ Rowenna tipped her head back, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. ‘That is better. The air smells lovely.’

  Robbie bent and plucked a handful of lavender from the closest bush, rubbing it to release the scent. He held it out to Rowenna. She put her hand on Robbie’s to hold it steady as she buried her nose deep into the leaves, drawing in the scent. Her fingers were warm and Robbie felt the heat from them spreading down his arm.

  ‘I’m sorry I tricked you into leaving the group, but you looked so uncomfortable by the fire.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Robbie said. It was true. At no point had he resented Rowenna enticing him away from the company. He had simply been relieved they were no longer quarrelling.

  She giggled. ‘Do you remember when I was surrounded by geese and you came to my rescue? I thought of that when I saw you there.’

  They sat on the steps of a small fountain. Rowenna tilted her head back and stared at the sky, which was clear and star filled. The moon cast light on her bare throat, illuminating the curves of her collarbones and drawing Robbie’s eye to the contrast between the creamy naked skin and deep red silk that concealed her bosom.

  His tongue became unaccountably, insufferably dry and he found himself craving water or, better still, the wine he had denied Rowenna. He dragged his eyes from her neck and reached into the fountain for the cup on a long chain. He drank deeply, then passed it to Rowenna, who did likewise. She dropped the cup back into the fountain bowl.

  ‘I really was thirsty. The wine was stronger than I realised! Thank you for bringing me out here,’ Rowenna said with a smile that was slightly too wide. ‘You don’t mind that I took you away from your friends, do you?’

  Rowenna dipped her fingers in the water and trailed them from behind her ears down her creamy neck. The gesture must have been unconscious, but it sent prickles down Robbie’s spine and at that moment he would have forgiven her anything up to and including murder.

  ‘I don’t m-mind in the s-slightest,’ he stammered.

  He concentrated on a droplet that had caught in the curve of Rowenna’s collarbone. Would a single drop of liquid stolen from Rowenna quench the thirst that was burning him inside? He wondered how it would feel to lean over and lick it away before letting his tongue explore further up or down her body. A shiver ran down his spine, as the image of himself doing just that exploded in his mind.

  Confusion addled his brain. This was not right. It was Mary he wanted, yet he’d never imagined such outrageous thoughts about her, or craved acting on them so desperately.

  ‘You’re a good friend to look after me,’ Rowenna said. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t get to dance more with your Mary.’

  The words doused his rising passion more than a thousand pails of water hurled at him could do. The corner of his mouth twitched. He hadn’t been feeling very friendly towards her for one reason or another all evening.

  ‘It isn’t any fun drinking too much,’ he said. ‘I remember when I was twelve and first made myself sick by helping myself to an unready batch of Mother’s ale without her knowing. I half believed I was going to die and wasn’t sure that would have been a bad thing!’

  Rowenna laughed, a merry peal that lightened Robbie’s mood.

  ‘I’m glad I didn’t do that. I bet Aunt Lucy was furious. Did she whip you?’

  ‘No. For once she and Lady Stick were in agreement that I deserved it, but Father said it was punishment enough to make me get up at dawn and tend to the sheep as usual. He was right, too. I had to dunk my head in the beck a dozen times before it stopped spinning.’

  Robbie stretched his legs out and leaned back. They sat in companionable silence and it struck Robbie that he rarely saw Rowenna still and tranquil. She was usually darting about, laughing and active. The serene woman at his side was an alluring creature and one Robbie could happily spend the rest of the evening with. He felt a pang of homesickness for the quiet moorland village he hadn’t seen for so long.

  ‘Travelling round England and to France with Sir John’s retinue was exciting, but it feels good to talk of home,’ Robbie said. Mary had talked only of her clothing and whether sapphires or diamonds would match her eyes best. It had become a little boring.

  Rowenna flung her arms around his neck in an unexpected hug that almost knocked him off the edge of the step. He caught her around the waist to steady them both. Rowenna leaned against him so that her cheek rested on his shoulder, one arm still around him.

  ‘I’m s
o pleased you’ve come back, I’ve missed you so much. I always wished I had a brother my own age, but I didn’t need one really. You’re almost a brother to me.’

  ‘Am I?’ He found himself unaccountably aghast at the thought.

  Rowenna was still leaning into him, but now she twisted her body, inadvertently grinding her breasts against his chest, so that her face was turned to his. Her eyes had been sparkling, but now they grew serious.

  ‘No. I don’t think you are really.’

  She was close enough that he caught the scent of wine that still lingered on her lips. It mingled with the cinnamon-scented oil she had dressed her hair with and the lavender he had given her in an intoxicating mix of scents. Robbie’s head was muddled and his thoughts were anything but brotherly.

  Rowenna withdrew her arm from around his shoulder and let it fall into her lap, brushing against his thigh as she did. She looked thoughtful, her eyes flickering over Robbie’s face.

  He held his breath, feeling as though someone was brushing fingers across the inside of his chest. He hadn’t released Rowenna when he had the opportunity and he was content to keep his arm around her for as long as possible to prolong the feeling. He had the overpowering urge to kiss her to see what she would do in return.

  ‘Robbie, is something wrong?’

  Nothing other than the fact that his heart was ravaged and his flesh was on fire with the thought of kissing Rowenna. His cousin. His closest friend, whose familiar eyes looked out of a face he only half recognised and whose body was that of a woman, not a child any longer. He was more confused than he had ever been.

  Rowenna’s words pulled him back from the unexpected snicket his fantasies were leading him down.

  ‘No. Nothing is wrong.’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘I was just remembering Wharram. The last time we sat together like this was the night before I left.’

  ‘I remember.’ She twirled her fingers in her hair. ‘I gave you a ribbon as a favour.’

  ‘I still have it,’ he admitted.

  She was looking at him solemnly, her eyes no longer gleaming. ‘You told me you would see me before you left, but I woke late and you’d already gone.’

  Robbie stretched out, digging his heels into the dirt. The truth swelled inside him, longing to burst out, but he refused to let it. Rejection from Rowenna was too terrible to contemplate.

  ‘I quarrelled with Roger when I w-went home. Leaving w-was best for everyone.’ It was the closest to the truth he dared confess.

  ‘I’ve seen how uneasy you are around him. It’s sad. Will you tell me what happened?’ Rowenna stuck her legs out alongside his, feet pointed together, and leaned against him. Robbie became acutely conscious of where their bodies pressed and the gaps where they did not.

  He drew a long breath, wishing more than ever he could share his secret. ‘Things I considered important, he assumed could be stamped beneath fresh rushes and forgotten.’

  He started to tell her how Roger had tried to commandeer the men during the riot, but fairness made him recall that Roger had backed down and let Robbie lead. ‘You know him. He sweeps everyone up in his belief that he knows best. He has a long shadow I do not wish to live beneath.’

  ‘You’ll leave again soon, won’t you?’ Rowenna said. ‘Will you make your peace with Roger before you do?’

  ‘Perhaps. I’m in no hurry to return to Wharram.’ Robbie examined his hands.

  ‘I don’t blame you.’ Rowenna’s voice was wistful. ‘I wish I could see what you’ve seen. My father travelled the country during his apprenticeship. Your father spent years fighting in France and Italy.’ She gestured towards Robbie, skimming his chest with her fingertips and causing his heart to beat double time. ‘You’ve seen London. I’ve never been more than a day’s travel from York.’

  Robbie took a deep breath, catching the scent of the lavender again, and something else on the air behind it.

  ‘Roses,’ he murmured.

  He stood and walked to the back of the garden until he found the trailing bushes that had been trained to climb around a small gateway. They were large blossoms, deep red and almost overpowering in the richness of their perfume. He twisted the fullest bloom from the stem, taking care to avoid the thorns. Rowenna had followed him.

  ‘It smells wonderful,’ he said, cupping the rose in the palm of his hand and bringing it to his nose.

  ‘May I?’ Rowenna asked.

  This time Robbie did not hold the flower out at arm’s length, but kept it where it was so he could smell it at the same time. Rowenna leaned in towards him. She rested one hand on Robbie’s shoulder. The other took hold of his wrist to steady it as she had done when she smelled the lavender. She buried her nose in the petals and took a slow, deep breath, then sighed with pleasure, closing her eyes and inhaling again. Her face was close to Robbie’s, tilted a little to one side, with only the flower between them. He could count the individual eyelashes that seemed to reach all the way up to her arched brows. Her lips were the same deep shade as the rose he held, almost as soft as the velvety petals, but much fuller and more enticing.

  ‘Beautiful.’ He sighed.

  ‘It’s so strong it makes me feel light-headed,’ Rowenna said.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him over the top of the flower, the long lashes widening to frame eyes that were now heavy with sensuality. Her lips curved into a wide smile and Robbie’s heart began to beat faster. He was starting to feel light-headed himself, but that was nothing to do with the scent of the rose. Light-headed and more than a little reckless.

  ‘I don’t mean the flower,’ he murmured.

  He folded his hand over the rose and lowered it, noticing in the back of his mind that his hand was trembling. He bent his head down a little more until he was close enough that his mouth was next to Rowenna’s. Close enough that he could feel the softness of her cheek against his. Close enough to whisper and be perfectly certain that no one else who might venture to this part of the garden would be able to hear the words that were meant only for her ears.

  ‘I mean you.’

  And he kissed her.

  Rowenna gave a small squeak of surprise and her eyes widened. Her mouth hardened, but before Robbie pulled away, conscious that he had forced himself on her, they became soft again and Rowenna was kissing him back with a sensuous slowness, letting her eyes fall shut as she slid her hands around Robbie’s waist to rest in the middle of his back. Her lips were as warm and eager as Robbie had dreamed they would be. He raised his hand, still clutching the rose, and rested it at the nape of her neck to draw her closer. The perfume of the bloom mingled with the scent from Rowenna’s hair in an intoxicating manner, pulling Robbie into a whirlpool of ecstasy that he would gladly drown in.

  It was not Robbie’s first kiss, but as Rowenna’s lips moved with a gentle pressure that indicated she was far from unwilling, he realised with a jolt of jealousy that neither was it hers. Someone else had taught her to match the rhythm and pressure of her partner and respond in kind. Someone else had claimed her before him. He lowered his arm and slowly withdrew his lips from hers. Rowenna opened her eyes leisurely as if she was waking after a heavy sleep. Robbie wished he could be at her side to see if she looked as alluring then as she did now. Her lips were still slightly parted. Robbie shivered at the idea of returning to the kiss, but she took a step backwards and another, keeping her eyes fixed on Robbie.

  ‘That was the first impetuous thing I can remember you doing!’ she said. ‘I should never have called you staid.’

  She raised her hand and ran her fingertips over her lips. Shadows played across her face and Robbie couldn’t tell if she was angry, disappointed or consumed with the same desire that riddled his body.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Robbie muttered.

  ‘Why? It was only a kiss! There was no harm in it.’

  No harm. She seemed unaffected.
>
  ‘I didn’t ask.’

  He was as shameful as the men he had warned her against, but even as he denied it, he drew closer, leaning in towards her so that their faces were close and he could lose himself in her eyes.

  ‘Oh, but you did,’ Rowenna assured him. She licked her lips with the tip of her tongue and Robbie’s legs threatened to give way. He could still taste her on his own lips. ‘You’ve been asking ever since we came outside, only not with words. With your eyes.’

  ‘But you’re my friend,’ he said, edging closer.

  ‘Well, that was very friendly indeed!’ She gave a merry, rippling laugh, then looked at him coyly. ‘Did you like it?’

  Certain parts of Robbie’s anatomy were threatening to demonstrate their approval whether he willed it or not. He could feel himself swelling, acutely conscious of the uncomfortable shifting and hardening taking place inside his breeches. He hoped to all the saints that Rowenna was not aware of the bulge that was growing firmer and more commanding of his attention with every moment. Had his body so obviously betrayed the urges he felt? It had been intoxicating. So exquisitely good. Jealousy coursed through him once more.

  ‘You’ve done that before,’ he said.

  She lifted her jaw, unabashed but with a hint of defensiveness in her voice. ‘So have you.’

  ‘Who? Was it Cecil?’ If she said yes, Robbie was sure he would explode with jealousy.

  ‘I only met your friend today. Credit me with some discretion!’ Rowenna’s brows knotted. She twisted the end of her ribbon around her fingertip and gave him a sidelong glance.

  ‘I kissed Tom the fuller’s son on May Day three years past, and Matthew Esmond kissed me at Ralf’s last birthday feast. Oh, and on Twelfth Night just gone I kissed Wat Corridge.’

  Nothing more recent than six months. Wat was a friend of her older brother who Robbie remembered, probably unfairly, as a dull-witted lout, not remotely worthy of her notice. Better than kissing Cecil, but even so, Robbie couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

  ‘Why them?’