One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy)

by D'Angelo, Dana

  She nodded her head. “Aye, that you do,” she said, paying no attention to Ava’s warning look. She made a move to go. But Jonathan angled his body, partially blocking her path. She looked up at him, quirked one eyebrow, allowing her impatience to show.

  “I would like a word with you, my lady,” he said to Rowena.

  It was not a request but a demand. The arrogant tone in his voice made her bristle, and she wanted to push him aside and once again she had to refrain herself. What was it about this man that tested her powers of restraint?

  Before she had a chance to deny him, Ava spoke up. She smiled sweetly, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “I’ll give you two a moment alone to speak,” she said and then turning, she gave Rowena a meaningful look: behave.

  Jonathan sent Ava a grin which softened the fierce look on his face, making him appear almost boyish.

  Rowena pressed her lips into a thin line. Her father was still angry with her, and given his volatile mood, he would be unhappy to learn if she offended any of his guests, especially one that was a close relative to his bride.

  Ava walked a discreet distance ahead to allow them some privacy.

  But Rowena continued to frown at Jonathan as if by doing so she could make him change his mind and leave her alone. She was trapped and they both knew it. “I do not think ‘tis appropriate that we are seen alone together, sire,” she said, breaking the silence.

  “We’re not alone,” Jonathan said, sweeping his hand around him to indicate the number of knights and their ladies making their way to the chapel. “However if you think ‘tis more appropriate, we can always meet in the town inn afterward.”

  “Do you even know who I am?” she demanded. When he didn’t answer right away, she continued. “I am Lady Rowena de Belleville. I am not a strumpet that you can lure to the town inn.”

  “But I know ‘twas you who I met in town. At that time, you were not dressed in such finery.”

  She became still. “I do not know what you speak of, sire,” she said but even as she said it, she could feel her heart beating faster at her lie. “Indeed, all I know of you is that you are a relation to my father’s bride.” She began to move toward the chapel entrance. “I must go. My father will not forgive me if I am late for the ceremony.”

  “We still have some time,” he said, his tone dismissive. While the majority of guests were now in the chapel, there were still a few lagging guests in the courtyard. “The castle is the last place I thought I would find you.” He paused. “Tell me, if you are Sir Philip’s daughter then what were you doing in town dressed as a peasant?”

  Her mouth felt as dry as dust. “I still do not know what you are talking about,” she said. “I have not been in town of late.”

  “I’m certain that you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he said, shrugging. “The game you started has intrigued me. I just wanted to know when we can continue it.” His gaze roved over the gown that she wore which showed off her generous breasts, small waist, and the soft curve of her hips.

  He merely smiled back when she sent him a frigid glare.

  Her hair, shining black as midnight, was decorated with sparkling jewels and plaited atop her head, allowing it to frame her striking face. She possessed a small nose and had generous, sensual lips that begged to be kissed. The stubborn tilt on her small chin did little to detract from her loveliness and Jonathan found her all the more desirable because of it. In normal circumstances he wouldn’t have wasted his time with her because it was clear that she didn’t like him. He preferred his women warm and amicable. But when it came to Rowena, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to break through her wall of ice, especially since he knew how warm and responsive she was underneath the facade.

  “In our last encounter you left so quickly. I was quite disappointed that we couldn’t let our kiss grow into something more.”

  “Now I think you have gone mad, sire,” Rowena said, sending him an innocent look.

  “There is no need to lie,” he said, his voice soft. “I never forget a face, especially not a face as beautiful as yours.”

  “We have never met!” Rowena protested.

  “Aye, we have never met officially.” He bowed. “Sir Jonathan d’Abelard,” he said. “And since we are already intimate,” he gave her a slow smile, “you may call me Jonathan.”

  He said the words as softly as if they were hot caresses.

  “Sir Jonathan,” she said, giving up her play of ignorance. She looked around, and said in a low voice as if she were afraid someone would overhear her, “I would appreciate it if you would not speak of what happened in town. I do not think my father would take kindly to hearing what transpired.”

  Jonathan smiled. “I won’t reveal a thing,” he said.

  Rowena returned his gaze but didn’t smile back. “I would rather that we forget that our encounter in town ever occurred,” she said.

  “Ah, but how can I forget that kiss? I lay awake at night dreaming of you,” he said. “You may have spoiled me for other women.”

  The door to the chapel flung open and a servant came out, urging the remaining people in the courtyard to enter.

  Rowena let out a sigh of relief and picked up her pace as if she wanted to be rid of her unwanted escort. But Jonathan easily kept pace with her.

  They hadn’t gotten very far when a young knight spotted them and with determined steps, he made his way over.

  The youth wore the Ravenhearth livery colors over his chain mail, and looked the part of a dashing young combatant.

  “Is something amiss, Lady Rowena?” he asked as he joined them. He gave Jonathan a cool, assessing look.

  “Nay,” she replied shortly. “‘Tis nothing that I cannot handle myself.”

  But the young knight wasn’t listening to her. “I’m Sir Derrik d’Evant,” he said, pulling himself to his full height, and thrusting out his chest. “I’m told that you are Sir Jonathan d’Abelard.”

  “You are correct.”

  “Aye, the same knight who is also known as the Iron Hawk,” Derrik said, nodding his head as if confirming a fact.

  Rowena looked at Jonathan with wonder. “You did not tell me that you are the Hawk,” she said, sounding as if she had forgotten her irritation from a moment ago. “This means that you are King Edward’s legendary strong man, the man who is said to have never lost a battle. And like the predatory bird, ‘tis said you tear your enemies apart limb by limb. If these tales are true, ‘tis no wonder your name strikes fear in the hearts of men. The Hawk is a larger than life hero, the stuff of the Arthurian legends.”

  Derrik nodded. “I heard these same fairy-tales as a child. It may be true regarding your status with King Edward, however I question the validity of those battle stories,” he said, his tone sounding full of challenge. “‘Tis impossible for one man to have victory in every battle he fights, whether ‘tis with one other man or with an entire army.”

  Rowena looked at the young knight as if she was surprised at his boldness.

  They were nearing the chapel entrance now, and Ava stood at the door, waiting for her. She glanced at them, clearly wanting to stay and hear what Jonathan had to say but she moved off when Ava beckoned for her to hurry.

  Jonathan watched Rowena’s shapely figure move ahead of them, her round hips swaying gently with an unconscious grace.

  “I am no longer in the king’s permanent service,” he said, his tone mild. He had been in Edward’s service, but that was many years before — before Amelia was murdered in cold blood by the Grey Knight. Jonathan had Edward’s blessing to seek and pursue Amelia’s killer to the ends of the earth.

  Jonathan moved to follow the others inside.

  Derrik put his hand on Jonathan’s sleeve, stopping him. “She won’t have you, you know,” he said.

  Jonathan looked at Derrik’s hand as if it was covered with grime. “Are you telling me this to warn me away from her?”

  Derrik dropped his hand and flushed, giving himself away. “Few
men are able to capture the heart of the lady. I doubt that you will have much success.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Rowena moved to the side of the pillar, slightly away from the rest of the dinner guests. From her vantage point, she was able see everyone else but it was more difficult for them to see her. Dinner was completed, and the servants cleared the trestle tables, stacking them along the far wall to make room for dancing and other entertainment that her father prepared for the evening.

  Unable to help it, her gaze often drifted to the newly married couple.

  With Lorena by his side, her father looked ten years younger. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought their union was a love match and not the practical one in which he claimed.

  And even though Rowena didn’t like to admit it, she knew her father’s attention would now turn to her and her marital state. Ava already informed her that her father had a list of suitors for her. She hadn’t seen the list, although she wasn’t surprised to learn that Jonathan was included in it. Her father raved enough about the Iron Hawk’s feats and fighting prowess to make her feel nauseated.

  At first she bulked at the idea that these knights were her only choices. But in the end she was forced to acknowledge that her father wasn’t a heartless man. He was at least allowing her to choose a knight to marry, a choice, she knew, that few women in her position would ever have. Still a tiny part of her heart rebelled. How was it possible for her to find love within three month and from a list of men that her father assembled? Political power and social advantage aye, but she didn’t think a union with any of the suitors held any promise of love or happiness.

  Rowena felt a little disheartened that no one else seemed to hold love or her happiness in high regard. It was partly her mother’s doing, she realized. Her mother was the one who gave her a glimpse of what a marriage could be. “Few women in your station are able to marry for the sake of love,” her mother had told her. “I want you to find happiness and love, just as I did in my own marriage.”

  Maybe if the troubadours and minstrels never sang about the love and romances of great men and women, she might have dismissed her mother’s musing and dutifully married any man that her father chose for her. But she grew up listening to the Arthurian romances. And even though her father stayed true to his word and banished the love songs and stories at supper, many of those old stories were already entrenched into her heart and mind.

  She leaned her head against the pillar, and let out a soft sigh. Then there was also what she witnessed. The love and happiness that her parents shared was not falsified for anyone’s benefit. She was convinced that if Rosalid lived, warmth and joy would still radiate throughout Ravenhearth.

  ***

  Jonathan looked broodingly at the servants cleaning up, annoyed at the direction of his thoughts. All he could think of was Rowena. It didn’t help that the man next to him kept talking about her attributes. As if he didn’t know all about them. His gaze returned to the raven haired beauty just as she got up from her seat. She left the table at a hurried pace, almost as if she was heeding the call of nature, but at the last moment, she veered off into the corner of the hall that was hidden in shadows. His heart skipped a beat. Glancing at the men surrounding him, he saw that no one else seemed to notice her disappearance. He got up from his seat, causing the man beside him to look up in surprise. But Jonathan paid little notice to him since his attention was focused elsewhere.

  When he finally found her, she was deep in thought. “You are looking entirely too serious,” he said, interrupting her. “What are you thinking of?”

  She turned at the sound of his voice.

  He stared at her now, struck by her round, glittering grey eyes. And at once, he regretted his decision to approach her. The spark of desire he felt since this morning grew larger and he fought hard to keep the raw hunger at bay. Every move, every gesture she made bespoke of grace and elegance. There was no denying it — she was the most desirable woman in the great hall. The light burning in the hearth blazed in the middle of the hall, its golden glow glancing off of Rowena’s dark tresses. He opened his mouth to say more, but his attention was drawn to her breasts where they pressed boldly against the rich fabric of her gown. His mouth went dry all of a sudden as he became aware of how endowed she was. And how tiny. If he reached over, his large hands could encase her waist and settle on the gently rounded swell of her hips. Being so near her again, he felt intoxicated, remembering all too well the sweet passion that passed between them.

  She seemed unaware of how her presence affected him. “You are following me,” she said, her tone sounding accusatory.

  “Nay,” he said sardonically. “I’m actually standing beside you.”

  Rowena frowned at him as if she didn’t know what to make of him. “And so you are,” she said. Then she shrugged, and turned her face away as if she was dismissing an unwanted suitor.

  “You’re evading my question, my fair lady,” Jonathan said, unperturbed by her coldness.

  His accusation caused her to face him again. “‘Tis my right,” she said, arching one delicate eyebrow.

  Rowena turned to leave when he caught her slender arm. Her smoky gaze settled on his hand, a large and strong hand that seemed to engulf her. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin satin fabric of her sleeve. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his.

  When he returned her gaze, it was as if he could see into her very soul. Then he leaned forward and saw her eyes staring at his mouth. His pulse quickened.

  His lips curled into a smile. “Come,” he said, pulling her toward the area where people congregated, getting ready to dance. “We shall wipe the gloom from your face.”

  Then as if a spell was broken, her dark mood seemed to shift. She looked around as if suddenly conscious of the lively music that the minstrels played. A colorfully dressed man from the minstrel troop took out his lute and then another began singing the familiar verses of a bawdy song. With reluctance, she allowed Jonathan to drag her over to the dancers. They immediately made room for them, and when they joined hands, the circle of dancers closed.

  Soon, they became immersed in the pure energy. Rowena threw her head back, laughing as if the music had taken a hold of her and chased away the last of her dark thoughts, lifting her spirits to a different plane.

  Round and round they went to the sounds of the vigorous tune. Those that watched the dancers clapped in time to the lute, laughing and stomping, almost drowning out the instrument and voice.

  When the song ended, Rowena tossed an enchanting smile of gratitude at Jonathan, a smile that nearly took his breath away. All he could do was grin back at her like a fool. She was magnificent. How did he ever convince himself that she was a poor servant that had run away from the castle?

  He felt a tap on his shoulder and as he turned, he found Derrik standing behind him.

  “Do you mind if I take your place for this next song, sire?” he asked, looking expectantly at Jonathan.

  Jonathan fought down his irritation. Curious eyes looked their way and he was forced to bow and allow the boy to take his place.

  He made his way to where the spectators stood and continued to watch Rowena. She moved like a wood nymph, lithe and beautiful, leaping and twirling, easily outshining all the other maidens that danced around her.

  When Rowena looked his way, he smiled at her. He felt content just watching her, content that the sad cloud that hung over her head had disappeared.

  “She is beautiful is she not?” a voice said at his side.

  Jonathan glanced down, and was surprised to find Rowena’s nursemaid standing beside him. “Aye,” he agreed. The town folk spoke about Rowena at length, always in a tone of reverence. And now he knew why. Anyone would be captivated by her angelic beauty and innocent charm. “But why is she not wed?” he asked curiously.

  “She has yet to find the man that she wishes to wed,” the nursemaid replied.

  Jonathan gave the older woman a considering
look. “That young pup seems in love with her enough,” he said, nodding his head at Derrik.

  “Sir Derrik?” Ava laughed and said, “I would not worry about him, if I were you.” The young knight’s eyes never left Rowena’s face, attentive, almost adoring, although the lady in question didn’t seem to notice. “Aye, he is in love with her all right,” she continued, the corners of her eyes still crinkled in amusement. “But my Rowena will not have him. They have known each other all their lives, and she loves him only as a brother, as their constant squabbling would indicate.”

  “He has warned me that few men would interest the lady.”

  “He would know,” she said, her deep laughter ringing out once again. “She sent several of them away, much to her father’s displeasure.” She gave him a sly look. “You, on the other hand, would make her a fine husband. Sir Philip and Lady Lorena speak very highly of you.”

  “I have no plans to wed,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

  Her eyebrows shot up in confusion. “I have seen you speaking with my lady. Are you not wooing her hand in marriage? I am told that you are on the list of men that Sir Philip has approved of,” she said.

  “Sir Philip has approved of me,” he admitted, “although I have no interest in marrying Lady Rowena, or anyone else for that matter.”

  Still even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the dark haired beauty from his mind. When she smiled at him, just as how she was smiling at him now, it shook him to the core. But he was acting like a besotted fool, a voice inside him berated. What kind of seasoned knight would allow a woman to affect him so? It was pure madness and dangerous as well. If his enemy ever caught wind of what he was thinking, Rowena would be vulnerable, just as Amelia had been. But what was the point in thinking about Rowena in this manner? Tonight there was an unspoken truce between them. She was only being civilized to him because she was afraid that he would expose her. From her attitude toward him this morning, it was clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him.