“Now Abigail —” Georgie said, holding his hands out, pleading.
She continued to glare at him as if he was a beggar that had just walked into her establishment asking for free ale. “You heard my father, you need to leave,” she said. “You don’t have any money, and you’ve already caused too much trouble in here as ‘tis.”
Whether it was from too much drinking or from the wench’s harsh words, the big man started to crumble right before Jonathan’s eyes.
“He’s about to cry,” a man in the crowd said with a smirk. Others around him started to laugh. “He hasn’t gotten into a real fight yet and he’s going to cry already.”
If it were possible, Georgie’s face turned a deeper shade of red and he looked as if he wanted to disappear into the floor boards.
Jonathan took a sip of his drink, and set his tankard on the table. “There will be no fighting here today, friends,” he said in a voice loud enough so that everyone could hear. “Go back to your stools. We’re here to get drunk, not fight over women.”
The men grumbled good-naturedly, and went back to their seats.
Georgie looked at Jonathan with relief. He dropped his head, and looked around as if to see if anyone was listening. “Despite my size, I’m a terrible fighter,” he confessed in a low voice.
“I don’t fight well either,” Jonathan lied.
Georgie pushed at a young man sitting at the next table, forcing him to vacate his seat. Grabbing the stool, he dragged it over to sit beside Jonathan. “Well since we can’t fight, it looks like we’ll just have to get drunk then,” he said, grinning.
“My friend is buying. Bring us more drink, wench!” Georgie hollered over the noise.
Abigail made a face at him, but she walked over with a jug of ale, and pocketed the coins that Jonathan had pushed her way. She poured the drink into the empty tankards.
“My apologies for the misunderstanding, friend,” Jonathan said, just as the serving woman was about to leave their table. “I wasn’t aware that she belonged to you.”
The serving wench spun around on her heels, and settled the jug on the table with a thud. “I heard that,” she said, narrowing her eyes at them. “I’ll have you know that I don’t belong to anyone, and especially not to him.” She jerked her thumb at Jonathan’s companion. “The only man I would care to have is Sir Philip himself. He’s a most desirable man, unlike some men here.” She folded her arms across her ample chest. “I’m told Sir Philip was happy before his wife died, and I’m sure I could make him happy again if he would have me.”
“You make him happy?” Georgie said dismissively. He put his tankard to his lips, and drained its contents. “I doubt you can make anyone happy.”
Abigail’s narrow faced turned bright red and she looked as if she was ready to launch into a string of curses. Jonathan decided to intervene before the discussion got out of hand. He cocked an eyebrow at her, “More ale?” he said, pushing more coins toward her and nodding meaningfully at the empty vessel in front of Georgie.
She pursed her lips, and poured the last of her ale into the tankard. Georgie picked up the vessel and guzzled its contents. He smacked his lips with satisfaction.
“What do you know of Sir Philip?” Jonathan asked, looking at Georgie.
He pushed his tankard out to the middle of the table. “Buy me more ale and I’ll tell you whatever you want,” he said, his voice beginning to slur.
Jonathan nodded.
Georgie grinned in response. “Well, he has the temper of a devil,” he said. “Some even say he’s the devil incarnate when he’s overcome by anger, which seems to happen quite a bit, I hear.”
“But he’s a just and fair man,” Abigail argued. “He governs that town well and fairly. Unlike other lords, he doesn’t overburden us with taxes.”
She opened her mouth to say more but Georgie interrupted her. “You don’t have any ale in that jug. Be a good wench and bring us some more,” he said.
Abigail clenched her jaw as if she fought to restrain the words from coming out. When she turned her eyes to Jonathan, he just shrugged.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t listen to him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” she said before stalking away.
“She’s wrong about that,” Georgie said to Jonathan. “People don’t think I’m too clever up here,” he tapped at his temple, “just because I’m built like an ox and I also happen to be the butcher.” He shrugged and looked at the empty tankard with longing. “But people talk when I’m around, and they forget that I can overhear them.”
“Well I heard on the way over here that Sir Philip is planning to marry again,” Jonathan said, choosing his words carefully. “This time to Lady Lorena du Veaux of Airndale. Have you heard if this is true?”
Georgie blinked at him in surprise. “Sir Philip is marrying again?” he repeated. “I didn’t hear anything about that. I remember when his wife died of the plague he swore he would never marry again. This Lady Lorena must be exceptional, wealthy or both, if this news be true.” He let out a loud burp. “I would imagine Lady Rowena not taking this well at all.”
“Lady Rowena is the lord’s daughter?” Jonathan asked. “Why wouldn’t she take well to the news?’
“Aye,” he said, nodding. “She’s as beautiful as an angel, and aside from her gray eyes and hellfire temper, she looks the very image of her mother. They say Sir Philip blames her for the death of his wife.” He nodded his head at the confusion he saw in Jonathan’s face. “She caught the plague from Lady Rowena, and ‘tis said that’s why the lord can’t bear the sight of his daughter. When he remarries, he will likely force her to choose a husband.”
“If Sir Philip blames his daughter for his wife’s death, then why didn’t he marry her off sooner?”
The other man shrugged. “As I understand it, he was gripped by grief and allowed Lady Rowena to grow wild.”
“Don’t girls of noble birth have nursemaids to control them?”
“Oh, Lady Rowena has a nursemaid, but she regularly escapes from that woman. As far as I heard, no one can control her.”
Georgie’s eyes lit up when he saw Abigail returning to their table with a full jug of ale.
But she didn’t look at him.
Instead she dumped the ale into the tankards in front of them before abruptly turning to serve another customer, forgetting to take the coin on the table.
Georgie watched as she moved away. “Sir Philip should have married his daughter off a long time ago,” he said, suddenly sober. “Lady Rowena sets a bad example here. The women don’t listen to us men. But everyone knows about Sir Philip’s promise to his dead wife — a promise to let Lady Rowena marry for love.” He spat the last words as if it tasted bitter in his mouth. A miserable look crossed his face as he watched Abigail flirt with a man at the opposite end of the room. “Women here want to marry for love too, but they don’t know what love is, even if it hits them on the side of their heads.”
CHAPTER 5
Jonathan ducked out of the alehouse, and discovered that the town had filled up considerably.
The streets were packed with people and animals heading toward the market cross, making it difficult for anyone to pass. He slipped in between two wooden houses to allow himself to think without getting jostled. He had plied more and more drink onto Georgie and the man opened up like a book. Jonathan now had more than enough information on Philip and his unmarried daughter. He just needed to go to a couple of other establishments to confirm his findings. After being a widower for a decade and being gripped by grief for all that time, Philip managed to keep his people happy. Jonathan’s own father didn’t have the ability to do that. And as things stood now, Philip was a damn saint. There wasn’t anything Jonathan could find that would prevent him from giving his blessing to Lorena.
He took two steps and barely had enough time to react when a woman came hurtling toward him as if the fires of hell were nipping at her heels, and nearly toppled him over.
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p; Large smoky eyes framed with long dark lashes looked up at him in astonishment. “I am sorry,” she said, sucking in a heavy breath. “I did not see you there.”
“Obviously,” he said, offering a hand to steady her.
Without thinking she took it and when their hands touched, she drew it back as if she accidentally placed her hands on hot coals. For a split second her expressive grey eyes clouded over with confusion, and she shook her head as if to clear it.
The quick action dislodged her hood, and he caught a glimpse of her smooth oval face. A curiosity took a hold of him, wanting, for some reason, to see more of her face, to know the color of her hair. “Who are you?” he said softly as if speaking louder would scare her away.
But she didn’t hear him. She turned her head and bit down on her lip as she glanced behind her. In the next moment, she stiffened her spine and drew the cowl more firmly over her head.
Jonathan followed her gaze, and saw the two knights in full pursuit of someone. And that someone was standing right in front of him.
“You are still holding my hand,” she hissed as a note of panic crept into her voice. “Let me go, please.”
Jonathan didn’t attempt to loosen his grip, afraid that if he did, she would vanish just as quickly as she had appeared. Urged by some inexplicable desire to help, he drew her closer, wanting to shield her from the guards. “Tell me, why are those men after you?”
Rowena didn’t know that the stranger had intended to help her. All she knew was that his grip on her hand was as strong as iron manacles.
Thinking that the stranger was going to turn her over to her father’s guards, she gritted her teeth, and kicked him in the shin.
“Ow!” he said, letting go of her hand, and rubbing the area that she kicked. “That hurt.”
“You would not let me go,” she said. Then looking up at him her eyes widened, suddenly seeing him for the first time. There was a long scar that started at his cheekbone and disappeared into his beard. His hair was dark brown and reached a little past his wide shoulders. In all his bearing and massive size, he could possibly be a robber or a murderer or both. Rowena forgot her annoyance, and took a step back, wanting to put more distance between them. His dark brown eyes looked at her now as if he could see through her disguise.
Jonathan made a move as if to grab hold of her again.
“I do not have any coins,” she said in a brave voice. She looked around quickly to see if she could find something to use as a weapon. “However if you touch me again, you will feel more pain than the last time.”
“Cease your attack.” Jonathan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Surely you’ve wounded me enough,” he said. “Here I was thinking that I should help you get away from your pursuers and you think that I am after your coins. Tell me why you are running away from those men? Perhaps I can help you.”
She glanced again toward the market cross, trying to weigh her options. But she didn’t have much time to think too long. Out of the corner of her eyes, she again saw a flash of sliver and black. Her father’s men.
They were now several paces from where she stood, she realized with a sinking feeling. The sea of people provided a small distraction for the guards, but all they had to do was look down the narrow alley and they would see her. She had wasted valuable time speaking with this stranger and now found herself in a dangerous circumstance. If she started to run, she would no doubt draw their attention.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried her best to think of what to do next.
All too soon her worst fears were confirmed. She sensed rather than saw the guards looking at her direction. “You there!” one of them shouted. It was Derrik! She could recognize his arrogant voice anywhere.
She swallowed hard, and took a step forward. “Perhaps I will allow you to help me after all,” she said in a rush.
Before he had a chance to ask her what she meant, she edged closer to him until her body pushed him against the wooden house. She raised herself on her toes and grabbing hold of his head, she brought his face down to kiss her.
And as soon as their lips touched, even though she initiated the kiss, she felt as if the world had turned on its axis, and she needed to rest her hands on his muscular shoulders to keep from falling. A flash of heat radiated from the top of her head down to the tip of her toes. She was so startled by it that she tried to pull away.
But the stranger must have anticipated her move because he held her fast. He glanced briefly over her shoulders and she knew from his look that someone was approaching. “A little more enthusiasm,” he murmured in her ear, “if you want to convince the guard that we’re lovers.”
With a slight nod, she complied and offered her sweet lips once again. Her body softened and molded against his. He could hardly remember that they were putting on a show for the benefit of the guards. All he could do was groan.
She felt so right in his arms, this strange woman, yet she didn’t have the expertise of a common whore and that made his curiosity peak even more. He asked her twice about why she was being pursued and she still had not answered his question. Perhaps she was a servant trying to escape punishment at the castle.
“You there, mistress,” the guard said. He stood several feet away from them. “A word if you please.”
Jonathan pressed the woman closer, cradling her between his legs. “Go away,” he growled. “She’s busy.”
“I wish to speak to the woman…”
“I said she’s busy,” Jonathan said, brushing a soft kiss on her generous lips. “You best find some other woman to accost.”
The guard turned scarlet at the blatant dismissal and when his companion called, he backed away to join him at the end of the alley.
Jonathan waited a few more minutes before he reluctantly drew away from the woman. “They’re gone,” he murmured. “Come along with me, and we can finish this game at the inn nearby.”
Rowena’s eyes flew open as if she now realized the full implications of what she had done.
She dropped her hands to his hard chest, and pushed at him, wanting to get far away from him and the strange feelings that he evoked. “I’m sorry,” she said, unable to look him in the eye. “I — I didn’t intend for things to go so far.”
Jonathan laughed quietly. “I would want things to go a little further,” he said, but made no move to let her go.
“This is not a game,” she continued in a shaky voice. “I was desperate —” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “‘Twas a mistake to kiss you.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly as if she were trying to purge the kiss from her memory.
“I wouldn’t say I regret this mistake you speak of. I quite enjoyed it.” He gave her a wolfish smile, as if he wanted nothing more but to remind her again of how enjoyable the act was. “Unfortunately I have my own things to attend to. Perhaps we can meet at another time and place and finish what we started.”
Ava’s warning rang in her head, and Rowena took a step back as if she needed to increase the gap between them. Aside from the fact that the guards were tracking her, she was all too aware that it wasn’t safe for a young noble woman to be wandering on her own. She was lucky that this stranger had no intent on harming her.
“I doubt that we shall ever meet again,” she said, her voice quavering slightly. She threw a guilty glance toward the market cross, and saw the guards retreating into the mid-day crowd. “I have to go before they return.”
“Before you go…” Jonathan said, taking her hand again, now caressing it, as if marveling at how soft her hands were. “Tell me what your name is, fair maiden.”
She shook her head as if to break away from the charm that he wove around her, and she reluctantly pulled her hand away. “It does not matter what my name is,” she said. “Thank you for helping me. I will be forever grateful.”
“Perhaps you can still show me how grateful you are…” he said suggestively, bending his head to nuzzle her neck. But she didn’t respond to him as he hoped.
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“They’re coming back!” she said, the panic creeping back into her voice. With one strong heave, she pushed Jonathan aside and dashed off, her hooded figure already blending into the crowd by the time he had recovered his balance.
He made a move to go after her, but stopped himself, remembering almost too late about his promise to Lorena. There was a reason he came to Ravenhearth and it wasn’t to chase after runaway wenches. He ran his hand through his hair, and let out one long breath. He was just about done collecting the information he needed and then he could return to Airndale, and get back to his real purpose.
CHAPTER 6
From where Rowena stood, she could see the distant rolling green hills and the farm fields that dotted the landscape. The sound of trickling water could be heard coming from the woods. And of course, if she looked behind her, there was the castle, large and looming over everything.
A group of young people as well as a horse and cart containing a young family passed her on the road. Rowena bowed her head, and pulled the hood down further in case anyone recognized her. But no one looked at her direction. They were far too busy with their flirting and bantering to notice one small hooded figure walking alone on the road.
She reached the town border without further incident.
Things were quieter at the fringes of town, although she could hear the faint sprinkling of music off in the distance. The sound was light and merry — far from how she felt at the moment. In a relatively short span, her life had become complicated. And now her encounter with the stranger made things confusing as well.
The sound of scattered chatter coming out of the woods caught her attention. It was obvious some people preferred to spend the holiday within the solitude of the woods rather than the jostle of the town. After the events that transpired, Rowena needed a place of solitude to ease her turbulent thoughts. Sitting among trees always calmed her spirit. On impulse, she allowed herself to follow the tempting sounds, veering off the road and picking her way through a worn path that led into the thicket. One branch after another snagged her cowl so she drew the hood down, leaving her head bare.
One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) Page 4
