Super Summer Set of Historical Shorts

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Nicholas glanced over her head at the torch. A slow smile formed on his mouth.

  Noelle turned to see what Nicholas was staring at. And then she saw the red bow and the sprig of mistletoe dangling from it. She turned back and looked at Nicholas with a smile. What would he do? She wondered.

  “It would seem that your ladies have done a good job of decorating, and you, milady, have been caught,” Nicholas said in a husky voice. He lowered his head.

  The intensity of his gaze made Noelle tremble. She should do something. It was the custom to kiss whoever you caught under the mistletoe, but she was promised to another. But this kiss really wasn’t important, just a tradition, she thought to herself, as Nicholas’s lips met hers.

  All thought of resisting fled her mind.

  After all, it was Christmas.

  Nicholas’s mouth brushed gently over hers. He gave her time to pull away.

  She did not.

  Good, he thought.

  Nicholas’s arms went around her. He was going to end this attraction he felt for her once he gave her a thorough kiss. Her arms slid around his neck, and he shook with a raw need that shot through him like a spear.

  When he pressed his mouth against her lips, she parted them slightly and let him delve into her sweetness. God, she was pleasing. She responded to his touch, and when she molded her body to his, he thought that what little reason he held on to had surely deserted him.

  Her passionate response became a burning need, and he wanted to taste all of her.

  Where was the strong discipline that Nicholas prided himself in?

  Evidently, he’d left it on the battlefield.

  Good thing she wasn’t the enemy. Or was she?

  The door at the top of the steps opened, and Nicholas forced himself away from Noelle. Reluctantly, he glanced up.

  “I came to see if something had befallen ye,” Dirk said with a grin. “But I see that ye have things well in hand.”

  “It was the mistletoe,” Nicholas said, his voice raspy.

  “Aye. I plan on finding some mistletoe myself,” Dirk said, then added, “Ye do realize that the tradition calls for everything to be done in twelves. Lady Noelle now has eleven more times to pass under the mistletoe in keeping with the season.” Dirk’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

  “I had forgotten,” Nicholas said, but his gaze was on Noelle. “Thanks for the reminder,” he told Dirk, who had already gone back inside.

  “I think we should go inside, too,” Noelle finally said as she lowered her arms from around Nicholas’s neck.

  Nicholas looked down at her flushed face. Her lips were slightly swollen and wet. “You are still standing under the mistletoe,” he finally said with a smile. “Should we try for the other eleven times?”

  She gave him a devilish look. “I will not deny that I enjoy kissing you, Nicholas, but we must—” She stopped reaching up to touch the side of his face.

  He caught her hand and kissed her palm, then bent down and kissed her once more. “It is probably foolish to admit,” he whispered, “because one day we will not stop with a kiss. Someday, we will discover just what happens when a spark of fire ignites.”

  Desire, something Noelle had never experienced, left her frightened, but also curious. She had never dreamed she could feel passionate toward someone ... but Nicholas was the wrong someone. Yet, she couldn’t stop these feelings. Nicholas stared at her as if his statement should frighten her, but he had to learn that she was not the weak female he thought she was.

  Noelle liked a good challenge.

  “Until that day, milord,” she finally said, then turned and started up the stairs.

  CHAPTER 11

  Once inside the Great Hall, Noelle could see that everyone was ready to celebrate the feast. They stood in several groups, talking excitedly. Their work this day had made everything festive.

  Carolyn and Isabelle met Noelle as soon as she entered the gaily decorated room.

  “It is almost time. We must take our seats at the table,” Carolyn said.

  “It took you a long time to walk that short distance from the chapel,” Isabelle commented.

  “I was talking,” Noelle replied vaguely. She couldn’t help looking back toward the door to see if Nicholas had entered the hall and was coming her way.

  He was not.

  He didn’t so much as glance her way as he strode to the other end of the long table.

  Finally, the hall grew quiet as they waited for First Foot. Before the feast could begin, the season had to be ushered in.

  Suddenly, the King’s Surveyor shouted, “Wassail!” to everyone in the room. Then he stepped over to the high table where the king and queen sat.

  “May the feast begin, sire?” the surveyor shouted so that everyone in the hall could hear him.

  King Arthur shook his head and then he stood and said, “No. First Foot must first cross the Christmas threshold!”

  From the rear of the hall, a voice sounded. “I am here, sire!” A tall and lanky dark-haired jester smiled. First Foot began to dance and half-skip toward the front of the room. His ankle bells jingled and jangled merrily as he danced around the high table.

  Finally First Foot danced his way over to a green line that had been marked on the floor to represent a threshold. On one side was Christmas joy, which must be invited inside. “Should I jump?” he asked them as he danced toward the crowd and then back to the line again.

  “Aye!” everyone shouted.

  With a great flourish, First Foot jumped across the green line, and then danced back to the head table, where he removed his cap and bowed. Everyone at the table tossed coins into his hat.

  “Now everyone will have both pleasure and good luck in the coming year,” Carolyn said.

  “I will take pleasure any day,” Isabelle chuckled.

  “Let the feast begin,” King Arthur announced.

  The servants brought in pork in spicy sauce, and game pies. Noelle ate but her mind kept wandering to Nicholas. How did he feel about their kiss? Apparently, he hadn’t given it much thought, for he was in deep conversation with Sir Lancelot and Sir Pellias.

  Once the feast was over, someone suggested they play Blind Man’s Bluff. A group of twelve, including Noelle, Isabelle, Elizabeth, and Clarisse, formed a circle.

  One of the ladies said, “Who will pick the Blind Man?”

  “I will choose the Blind Man as well as play,” King Arthur said as he joined them. He looked around and saw that Nicholas was away in a corner, talking with men and not enjoying the activities. “Sir Nicholas, you have been chosen to play,” Arthur shouted over the music being played by the minstrels.

  Nicholas came, but he was still frowning when he reached Arthur.

  “You do know how to play this game?” Arthur asked as he tied the blindfold around Nicholas’s eyes. When the blindfold was snug, he turned Nicholas around several times and then darted back out of his reach to play the game. Each of the players took turns running up and tapping Nicholas, then darting out of the way so he couldn’t catch them—that is, all but one.

  Clarisse ran up and tapped Nicholas’s arm but he was quick and caught her. “You are it,” Nicholas said.

  “But who am I?”

  “Lady Clarisse,” Nicholas said as he drew off his mask.

  “I see that you have Lady Clarisse under the mistletoe,” King Arthur said.

  “Yes, you must kiss her,” several of the others chimed in.

  Nicholas looked at the king, sending a hidden message that made Arthur smile. Nicholas leaned down to kiss Clarisse, meaning it to be a light kiss, but Clarisse wrapped her arms around his neck, drew him close, and kissed him long and hard.

  “I’m going to see the queen,” Noelle said disgusted by Clarisse’s display.

  “You don’t want to play anymore?” Carolyn asked.

  “Nay.” She had no desire to watch Clarisse fawn all over Nicholas.

  Noelle made her way to Guinevere and the two of them part
icipated in several other games. But Noelle wasn’t enjoying the feast as she once had. She didn’t like the fact that Nicholas had kissed someone else. She knew her response to the kiss was stupid. After all, it was just a game. But Clarisse had made sure she was near Nicholas for the rest of the night.

  He hadn’t come over and talked to Noelle once. As a matter of fact, it seemed that he had spoken to everyone in the room but her.

  Was Nicholas avoiding her?

  When the festivities were over and everyone had started for their sleeping chambers, Noelle wasn’t the happiest person as she made her way down the corridor. She knew she was making herself miserable, but she also didn’t know how to stop her feelings. This was all so strange and new.

  Noelle had been having a pleasant dream of the kiss shared with Nicholas when someone shook her shoulder. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped as a hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Shhh,” a man said.

  Noelle struggled to sit up and freed herself from the man’s grip. “Tristan!” she whispered impatiently. “What are you doing in my chamber?”

  “Keep your voice down. I am not supposed to be here so this will have to be quick ... I need your help.”

  Noelle got up and went to the fireplace to retrieve a brand, then lit a small candle. “What?”

  “My squire, Gareth, is sick and William is too young,” Tristan hesitated. “I need—I need you to be my squire today,” Tristan said. Then he added, “You have been my squire before.”

  “But that was play. What is wrong with Gareth?”

  “His stomach. He’s retching all over the place,” Tristan answered. “Please.”

  “You know the knights would not welcome a lady in their midst.”

  “They will never know. I have brought Gareth’s clothes for you. You are both the same size. You can tuck your hair under this hat. No one will ever know.”

  Noelle looked doubtful, but admitted “This could be enjoyable, but none of the lord knights will like it if they discover me,” she said as she slipped the braies on under her gown.

  “Then do not let them discover that you are a woman. No one will ever know. It’s just for today. I’m sure that Gareth will be better by tomorrow,” Tristan said. Then, with a smile, he asked “Did you know that King Arthur is going to knight me today?”

  Noelle’s head snapped up. She smiled. “I had not heard thus. At least now I can be there.” She went over and hugged her brother. “I am proud of you.”

  “It is about time I made a name for myself. Cranborne belongs to John. I need to find my own holding.”

  Noelle nodded. It was really unfair that Tristan hadn’t inherited Cranborne since he was better suited to run the castle, but she had no control of the rules which had been established long before her birth. “You are up early. Have you not slept?”

  “Nay, I have been in the chapel, purifying my soul.” He grinned. “According to you, I have had need of purifying for a long time. Now I must go back to the chapel. I only left when William came to tell me about Gareth,” Tristan said and started to leave, but stopped. “I will not be the wealthiest knight, but after a few quests, perhaps I will bring riches to Cranborne.”

  “Then I will not have to marry?”

  A look of tired sadness passed over Tristan’s features. “Do you not care for Sir Gavin?”

  At least she knew this brother cared for her feelings. “Turn your back so I can finish dressing.”

  Tristan did so, but said, “You did not answer my question.”

  “Sir Gavin is a good man and a good knight, I judge, but ....

  “But?”

  Noelle sighed. “I do not have feelings of love for him. Nor he for me, I wager.”

  “Aye,” Tristan said with a knowing nod and then added in a low, composed voice, “you love another.”

  “Nay,” Noelle said, not certain she was telling the truth. “You may turn around again. What makes you say such?”

  “I have seen the way you look at Sir Nicholas.”

  How could her brother think such a thing? Had she done something that led him to believe she had feeling for Nicholas? Did anyone else at court think such as well?

  Just how had she looked at Nicholas?

  Noelle felt her face turning hot. “I-I have made friends with him.”

  “And I’ve known you all your life . . . you don’t look at Sir Nicholas as a woman does a friend. I think you have found the one you have sought all these years.”

  Noelle sank to the only chair in her chamber and sighed. “You’re correct. I have tried not to think of Nicholas at all, but he creeps into my thoughts when I know I should be thinking of Sir Gavin. If that is the way of a woman in love, then it’s so.” Noelle sighed again. “But he doesn’t love me, so it’s hopeless,” she said. Then she pulled on her shoes.

  “Nicholas is the hardest and bravest of all the knights. I know you have heard of his reputation with women.”

  “Aye, I have heard. So you do not care for him?”

  “On the contrary, I admire Sir Nicholas greatly, and I wish I could be brave and fierce like him. He has that strength and coldness of feeling that makes him invincible,” Tristan said. “That same coldness allows to dally with women and leave them without a backward glance. You must be careful that he does not use you in the same manner and break your heart.”

  “There is nothing I can do. I cannot make Nicholas love me if he does not. And then there is also Sir Gavin …” Noelle shook her head and placed her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to talk of this now.” She rose abruptly.

  “What is all the noise?” Isabelle called as she stumbled into the chamber, followed by Carolyn, who was yawning.

  “Tristan. We are not dressed!” Carolyn shrieked. She crossed her arms over the front of her shift. “What are you doing in Noelle’s room?”

  “That is why I am leaving,” Tristan said with a smile. “I will see you later, Noelle.”

  “Noelle, why are you dressed as a lad?” Isabelle asked.

  “I am going to be Tristan’s squire for today,” Noelle said as she tucked the last stray tendril up under her cap. “Will you both pretend that I am sick or in bed so that I won’t be expected at breakfast or on the viewing stand today?”

  “You get to have all the fun,” Isabelle complained.

  Noelle gave her a devilish smile. “It is necessary.”

  Once outside, the crisp air completely wiped the cobwebs from Noelle’s sleepy brain. She liked the freedom her braies gave her. It was nice not having skirts swirling around her legs with each step she took.

  She knew what she needed to do when she reached Tristan’s pavilion. She had to prepare his armor. Tristan would have to take the cleansing bath after he left the chapel.

  Noelle went into the empty tent where she retrieved Tristan’s armor and moved it to a small stool outside of the tent. She also picked up a small tub of bear grease. Taking a seat on the small stool, she propped the shield up against her leg and started rubbing the metal with a cloth.

  A half-hour later Tristan came strolling by. “How are you doing?” he asked as he ducked into the tent.

  “Fine.”

  “I will be back soon,” Tristan said as he came out of the pavilion. “William went with Gareth to the castle. Matilda said she had something that would stop his retching. Will you be all right until I return? As in staying out of trouble?”

  “Yes, sir.” She gave him a wink.

  “Good. Now be a good squire and have that armor polished and ready by the time I return,” Tristan instructed. Then he smiled as she frowned and threw the rag at him.

  Noelle grabbed another cloth and started polishing in small circles. She knew she could do the duties of a squire, but holding her tongue against her brother’s teasing would be another matter. She knew it was customary to treat squires as though they were unimportant. But she was still Tristan’s sister, and he’d best not forget the fact.

  She took sand and sprinkled it
on the cloth and then rubbed it into the metal until it was very smooth and shone brightly in the sun. Next she took a glob of bear grease and smeared it on the armor and shield so the lances would slide off.

  Now, she needed to sharpen Tristan’s sword, but she could not find the sandstone. She saw another squire two tents down, and decided to see if she could borrow his sandstone.

  Noelle realized as she neared the lad that he was Nicholas’s page. Not knowing his name, she bluffed “Cannot find my sandstone. Mind if I use yours?”

  “Morning, Gareth. Sure, it’s on the table by Sir Nicholas’s bed.” The lad said then pointed. “Drag up another stool and ye can sharpen the sword here.”

  Noelle nodded, then ducked into the tent only to come up short. “S-Sir Nicholas,” she said disguising her voice. “I did not know you were in here. I-I came to get the sandstone.” Noelle kept her head tilted so he couldn’t see her face, but she could definitely see him from beneath her lashes. He was moving around in his braies and had yet to put on his tunic. His wide chest was sprinkled with crisp, dark hair. She could plainly see the muscles she’d only felt beneath the fabric of his clothing the night they had spent together in the forest hut. The strength in his upper arms was very evident now that she was this close, and his broad shoulders carried the scars of battle. There was one long mark on his right shoulder that looked as if it must have been very painful. She longed to reach out and touch it.

  “Have you grown deaf this morning?” Nicholas asked.

  Noelle realized she’d been staring at him, forgetting that she was a lad. He was holding the stone out to her, and she had yet to take it from him. Worse, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his body. He was something fine to look upon.

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said bowing to keep him from seeing her face. Noelle quickly covered the distance between them and took the stone, still keeping her chin down. She thought she’d managed to escape safely, but as she turned to leave, Nicholas swatted her on the backside. She gasped.