A Midsummer Knight's Kiss

by Elisabeth Hobbes

  He studied her placid expression—an unkind observer might call it vacuous—and concentrated on the way she spoke with visitors to their stand easily, making perfectly judged observations and compliments. She was elegant and well connected, accomplished and wealthy. There was no doubt she would make an excellent wife for an ambitious knight. Sir John was quite right; Robbie would be a fool to turn down the chance of advancement such a connection would bring. He had longed for Mary’s affection and she was still the beautiful woman who had caught his eye. No doubt they would be happy enough together.

  But as he contemplated it, his stomach grew heavy with an aching he could barely withstand. If there was the slightest chance Rowenna could learn to return his feelings, he could not throw that away.

  Before he gathered his bow to return to the butts, he spoke in a low voice to Sir John.

  ‘I have been thinking about your offer. You are being generous in allowing me to celebrate my knighthood with my family,’ he said. ‘I will receive them and I will make my decision tonight.’

  Tonight he would speak with Rowenna. The right word or a significant look would tell him if there was any hope for him and see his life set down one path or another.

  Chapter Twelve

  The wine-coloured surcoat seemed too extravagant to wear for a private dinner and still bore creases from a night on the bedroom floor, so Rowenna dressed in her favourite blue gown and bound her hair with the pale ribbons she had bought at the market. She was halfway to the inn before she recalled that Mary had worn a similar blue.

  Hal walked between his wife and daughter, an arm for each woman. He must have sensed Rowenna’s change of mood because he paused.

  ‘What is wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. I was just wishing I had worn a different gown.’

  ‘This is a small gathering of family and friends. There is no need for ceremony,’ Joanna said. ‘Besides, you look beautiful in that one. Any man who could not see that would be a fool.’

  ‘Who said anything about a man?’

  Her parents exchanged knowing looks. Rowenna did her best to ignore them.

  ‘This one is so simple.’ Rowenna sighed, tweaking the neck into place so that it rested on the edges of her collarbones.

  ‘You look as fine as any lady of court. You would shine in any company,’ Hal said.

  ‘Any company that would admit a bastard’s daughter,’ Rowenna muttered beneath her breath. ‘No gown in the world would help me otherwise.’

  Joanna elbowed her sharply and Rowenna glanced at Hal, hoping he had not overheard her. She had heard the hint of bitterness in his laugh and did not want to add to her beloved father’s frustration at something that was not his fault.

  She quickened her step. Sir John, at least, was one nobleman who did not think their family was beneath his notice. No doubt Mary would be wearing a fresh gown of a different colour, and Robbie would not compare them anyway.

  Roger and Lucy had already arrived with their daughters. Rowenna’s party was the last to arrive at the inn and were admitted by the innkeeper himself. The man must have been overjoyed at the unanticipated size of the party and had filled the room with lamps. Even though it was a hot night, a fire burned fiercely in the hearth and the air was stifling. The tempting smell of roasting pig wafted through the room, mingling with the scent of beeswax, and a pair of musicians played soft airs from the corner of the room.

  Rowenna’s foot began to tap and she hoped that there would be more dancing. She would show Cecil Hugone that it took more than one evening of dancing to tire her. She was glad of the loose sleeves of her underkirtle that billowed freely and would cool her as she moved. She paused. Dancing with Cecil had caused the argument with Robbie. It was not worth her pride to risk another argument. Cecil’s opinion could go unchallenged.

  The dividing doors were open between Sir John’s private chamber and the communal room. There was still an invisible division between master and household, Rowenna noticed, as he and his wife sat at their fireplace in the recess on comfortable cushioned chairs, while his retinue kept to the long table and wooden stools in the larger part of the inn. Cecil was sitting on the end closest to the nobleman, but Rowenna was pleased to see Robbie was actually sitting with Sir John’s party. Now he was a knight-in-waiting he had been elevated to a superior position.

  He wore his finest livery, his dark hair brushing the collar of the high-necked tabard. Rowenna remembered the way her fingers had played with the soft curls the night before and a shudder of longing rippled over her.

  Her pleasure was dampened by the sight of Mary sitting beside Robbie, with her low-backed seat pulled close to his. Of course Sir John’s niece would be included, but it irked Rowenna to see she was sitting beside Robbie rather than at her mistress’s side. They had their heads together and Mary was talking rapidly while Robbie listened with a polite smile. Mary was wearing another gown of blue, this time edged with a trim of pale fur. In June, Rowenna thought with contempt. She must be far too hot to be comfortable. Nevertheless, it was laced tight and pushed her small breasts high up her narrow torso, giving her a slender and elegant profile.

  Robbie looked up and smiled towards the visitors. Mary was still talking and had either not noticed their arrival or, more likely, did not care. Robbie put his hand on her arm to pause her as his family arrived, and cocked his head towards them. It was an oddly proprietorial gesture. Rowenna felt her jaw clench and forced herself to smile as she followed her parents to greet Sir John and Lady Isobel. She waited while Hal and Joanna presented themselves and Hal spoke briefly about the matter of the swords before they moved to join Roger and Lucy. She avoided looking at Robbie and Mary, who waited in turn to receive the guests. There was something about the way they sat that caused a sense of foreboding in Rowenna. When it was her turn to move forward, she dropped into a deep curtsy and made her greetings to Robbie’s master and mistress.

  ‘I remember you, young woman,’ Sir John said. He gave her a penetrating look. ‘You claimed Master Danby from me the first night we arrived. I trust you don’t intend to steal him away from us tonight?’

  Rowenna felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair. The way Sir John spoke implied she had all manner of indiscretions planned. The fact that her mind had been full of outrageous daydreams was best kept to herself. She lowered her eyes demurely.

  ‘Oh, no, my lord. I would not be so greedy as to take him from his duty or family tonight. I have no wish to claim my cousin for myself.’

  She stammered her answer with difficulty, half expecting to be struck dead on the spot for such falsehoods, and wondering if this was how Robbie felt when called on to talk. She glanced at Robbie and caught his eye. She expected him to be laughing at her discomfiture but his face was alarmingly solemn. He should be happy on such a night and her stomach plummeted with a sense that something was amiss.

  ‘Good evening, Cousin Robbie,’ she said formally. ‘May I offer my congratulations on your happy news? No one is more deserving.’

  Robbie’s expression grew warmer, but his posture remained stiff. ‘Good evening to you, Cousin. M-my thanks for your w-w-words of kindness.’

  He pressed his lips together. Mary’s lips had twitched at his struggle and Rowenna felt her jaw tighten in response. Her heart swelled with pity that he was forced to speak so publicly and her stomach burned with anger that Mary clearly found it so tiresome. She wished she had another water jug at hand to wash away the woman’s cruel expression, and resolved to speak to Robbie alone as soon as she could.

  ‘I remember you also,’ Mary said, peering at Rowenna. ‘You knocked water over me last night.’

  Rowenna no longer felt like laughing at the memory. Robbie blinked rapidly and looked between them. Rowenna could not tell if he was amused or angry at what he was hearing.

  ‘I do hope you weren’t too inconvenienced,’ she said as sincerely as she
could manage, wishing now it had been wine, not water.

  ‘It dried,’ Mary said.

  Lucy and Joanna were quietly talking, but stopped as soon as Rowenna arrived. They began asking her in detail to tell them what had happened at the feast until she became so tangled in trying to make sure she did not reveal what had happened in the garden that she became quite confused. Robbie left Sir John’s side, so she made her excuse and followed him to the table, where he was arranging cups on a tray. He moved over to allow her space at his side.

  ‘Hello, Rowenna.’ His voice was low and private. It reached inside her and sent ripples through her body, setting her skin buzzing like a cat that had been stroked the wrong way.

  ‘Hello, Robbie.’ To her dismay her voice shook. She caught a breath, unaccountably nervous in his presence.

  Robbie seemed nervous, too. His hand shook as he meticulously lined up the goblets on the tray. He looked at her from the side of his eyes.

  ‘Did you really knock a w-water jug over Mary?’ Robbie’s tone gave nothing away, but as she met his eyes, she saw a brief flicker of amusement that he blinked away.

  ‘I was so busy concentrating on an interesting conversation I became clumsy. Fortunately Mary seems to have suffered no ill effects.’

  ‘Yes, fortunate indeed.’

  Now was the chance she had been waiting for to tell him why she had done it, but she would have to admit to eavesdropping, which Robbie would, quite rightly, take a dislike to. It could lead to another argument, which she was determined to avoid.

  ‘I’m glad to see you. I wanted to congratulate you last night, but you were busy once the announcement had been made and Geoff insisted on taking me home.’

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t take you,’ he said, dropping his voice even lower so she had to concentrate to hear it. He looked so concerned and sounded so earnest. ‘Believe that I would have if the choice had been mine.’

  He moved his fingers in slow circles over the back of her hand. Rowenna’s heart melted with affection, but her resolve to declare her feelings wavered. He’d warned her to hide her emotions and there had never been a greater need than now. She must not let slip the desires he caused to blossom within her. If she could draw him away to somewhere private, the words would spill from her lips easily enough, but here was too public.

  ‘Oh, Robbie, it doesn’t matter.’ She laughed, squeezing his hand. ‘I reached home safely and it was sweet of you to worry, but I was happy to go with Geoffrey.’

  ‘Do you m-mean that?’ He sounded so serious, as if he had received a mortal wound. Rowenna tossed her head airily, determined to stop him feeling guilty.

  ‘Of course. It was of no consequence who took me. I would not have torn you away at such a time for all the world.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have been tearing me away. I told you I wanted to take you.’ He leaned in close and took her hand. Flames danced up and down her arm. She wanted to tell him that she had lied and it mattered very much, but the thought of admitting her feelings was worrying.

  She put her hand on his arm, speaking playfully. ‘I’m so pleased for you, but you do vex me. Why didn’t you tell me before when you came to the house that you were to be knighted? You did know, didn’t you?’

  His grin transformed from shy to broad and his entire face lit with pride. Rowenna tilted her head to one side and gave him a mock-stern glare.

  ‘You made me play-act with you and I teased you horribly. I would have been more serious had I known.’

  She paused, recalling the other pretence they had done and the words of love she had wished were for her. Robbie had sounded so convincing that it had been hard for her to believe he was not in love with her. What a fool she had been to turn away from his kiss then. The gentle endearments echoed in her memory and made her want to sob at the missed opportunity. It was not too late.

  ‘I can be serious, you know,’ she said. ‘When there are things that matter. You believe that, don’t you?’

  ‘I do.’ Robbie spoke quietly and his voice was grave. His eyes looked sad and it tore her heart. She reached a hand to his cheek and turned his face to hers. His slight beard was soft beneath her fingertips. She remembered the way it had prickled against her lips and became distracted by the memory for a moment. He must think her mad to be daydreaming. She lifted her eyes to apologise, but found he was staring past her with an unfathomable expression. He looked over her shoulder to where their parents were standing and his expression grew dark.

  ‘Is Roger angry that you kept your knighthood secret from him?’ she asked.

  Robbie’s lips twitched. ‘No. He approves of keeping secrets.’

  They were standing in shadows, half-hidden from the room. Rowenna reached for his hand again and laced her fingers through his.

  ‘I looked for you at the tournament ground today, but I couldn’t see you,’ Robbie said. His eyes flickered, roving up and down her face, and she felt the sense he was searching for something she did not understand.

  ‘I did want to talk to you, but Father wouldn’t let me go,’ she said irritably. ‘I have barely any time left in York and I had to spend it in the house. Thank goodness Cecil came to visit. He was the only company I had all day.’

  ‘Cecil visited you?’ The corner of Robbie’s eyes tightened. Jealousy? Not enough to give her hope.

  ‘Yes, regarding Sir John’s commission. I would rather it had been you who had come, of course. Mother has designed the most intricate hilt for the daggers. They’re beautiful. They have leaves and acorns and...’ She bit her lip and left her description unfinished. Everything she uttered sounded so foolish that, if he had not guessed how she felt, Robbie must think her weak-minded.

  ‘You would rather I had come than Cecil?’ Robbie leaned towards her, lips parting slightly, and for one wonderful moment she thought he might be about to kiss her. Her heart began to beat rapidly and she felt breathless at the thought. The temptation to give in to her desire was so fervent it took her a great deal of strength to keep from reaching out to him and pouring out the way her heart burned. Though it pained her, she affected a wide smile.

  ‘Of course. I’m always happy to see you. I rarely see my friends as often as I’d like.’

  He looked at her sharply. ‘We are friends, as well as cousins? You see me as a friend? And there is nothing that could alter that?’

  He was talking in riddles. What did he fear would happen between them to break that bond? Not a half hour conversing with Cecil. Not even a dance.

  She fixed her gaze on him and studied the thickly lashed, dark pools of brown that were burning with an intensity she could not explain. A little closer and she would be able to kiss him. His mouth was set in an uncertain line and she longed to press her lips to them and feel them yield to the gentle pressure of hers. She remembered Joanna’s warning. She spoke in a cheerful voice.

  ‘Robbie, you have always been—and always will be—my dearest friend. No secrets, no knighthood, no illicit kisses can change that.’

  For a moment there was stillness. Silence surrounding them. Robbie’s pupils flared, but the skin around his eyes tightened. His mouth curled slowly into a gentle smile.

  ‘Then we shall always be friends.’

  For some reason his tone made her want to sob. From the corner of her eye Rowenna saw Mary walking towards them.

  ‘Robbie, my uncle is waiting for his drink,’ she called. ‘May I claim your attention on his behalf?’

  Robbie dropped Rowenna’s hand and gave her a smile that she could almost convince herself was one of regret. ‘We must talk soon.’

  She nodded dumbly, heart too full of words to be capable of speaking any of them before Mary was with them, sliding herself in between Robbie and Rowenna. She bestowed a serene smile on Robbie and gestured to the table beside them.

  ‘Robbie, you should advise my uncle’s servants
to take care where to place the jugs on the table, unless we all might be awash again.’

  Wine was too good to waste tipping over her. Pig’s grease. Boiling pitch. Goose muck. Rowenna seethed silently while affecting a smile.

  Robbie picked up the tray. Rowenna straightened the goblets and turned the handle of the jug to face him, giving him a defiant grin. She was pleased to see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

  ‘Perfectly safe from spilling. You’d best go and do as you are bidden.’ Robbie held her gaze, looking doubtful. Rowenna slid her eyes meaningfully to Mary. ‘Go. I promised Cecil earlier that I would say hello to him and I really should. I’ll speak again with you later,’ she called as Robbie made his way slickly through the gathering.

  ‘Your cousin is fond of you, I see,’ Mary said. ‘I wish I had known beforehand of your existence. A female companion in the city would have been pleasant, but he never spoke of you.’

  Mary gave a sly smile. She implied they shared confidences, but Rowenna knew Robbie had barely spoken with her. She ached to tell Mary what she had overheard, but settled for returning the smile.

  ‘I can imagine how lonely it could be without a companion to share confidences, but you seemed to have a friend last night from what I recall.’ She looked past Mary to where Robbie was attending Sir John. He stood straight backed with his head inclined deferentially towards his master, but their eyes met briefly. He wrinkled his forehead and his expression clouded. Rowenna winked at him and he looked away quickly. Rowenna fixed Mary with a stern look.

  ‘As for Robbie, he does not speak much to anyone unless he has something worth saying. Or someone worth saying it to.’

  Mary’s smile froze and her lips turned into a sharp pout. ‘Then I shall have to learn to coax words from him. We shall have plenty of time.’