Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Madeline Martin

  ‘Is it?’ She stopped momentarily as she dragged her palm across her clammy forehead, frustrated at having to play cat and mouse. ‘I cannot see why. If you are truly whom you say you are.’

  ‘You doubt me?’

  ‘What am I supposed to believe when I cannot even see you?’

  ‘It would be simpler if you did not.’

  ‘How can I be assured that you are who you say you are then?’

  There was no response. A hushed silence wrapped around her in the moonlight, making her shiver. And just when she was convinced that he was no longer there, he spoke again.

  ‘Very well, as you wish.’ The shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness and made Gwen take a step back and gasp. His braies and hose covered long, honed limbs and a short, dark cloak with a wide hood covered his head, his face invisible beneath it. Strapped to his back he carried two swords sheathed within its scabbard, criss-crossing his body.

  ‘Well? Are you satisfied, my lady?’

  She rubbed her eyes several times and felt her jaw drop, unable to believe that the man still shrouded in darkness was Ralph de Kinnerton. This man was huge in every sense—an embodiment of a powerful warrior and nothing like the long-limbed skinny boy she once knew. She took a step back, suddenly feeling more unsure about being in the middle of the woods with this...stranger.

  ‘It is me, Gwenllian.’ He sighed deeply, without making an attempt to come closer or revealing anything that she might recognise.

  He remained in the near darkness, the outline of his tall frame the only part of him that was visible. There seemed to be a wide chasm between them as they stood some distance apart, facing each another.

  ‘How can I be certain? You look nothing like the Ralph de Kinnerton I knew.’

  She had expected him to move forward, to show his face, so that she would believe that his voice and this man—Ralph—were one and the same.

  Instead, he stood pinned to the spot and took an exasperated breath before he spoke again. ‘What would you like me to say, Gwen? Shall I recount that first time you came to Kinnerton, or remind you how you got that tiny little scar above your left eyebrow, in the brook not very far from here? Or what about the many times we would sneak here to Pulverbatch Castle, here to these very woods...to this very tree?’

  ‘Oh, Lord, it...it is you.’ Her hand shot to cover her mouth.

  ‘Yes.’ He expelled a deep breath. ‘And after I saw you, I believed you also had a right to know the truth about me.’

  Gwen suddenly found this—being in these woods with this version of Ralph—so unreal.

  ‘I still cannot believe you’re alive,’ she whispered, pushing down a sudden wave of unfettered longing.

  He shook his head. ‘I very nearly wasn’t. For quite some time it was debatable whether I would survive.’

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘You need not concern yourself about me any more, Gwen.’

  She blinked, puzzled at the cool detachment in his voice. It seemed that this was all the information she was to be offered. Yet, had she expected more because of courtesy? Familiarity? The friendship and love that they once shared? That no longer seemed to apply to their connection, after all this time. That, she was sure, she had quashed six years ago anyway.

  Gwen gave her head a little shake as though clearing it. ‘I see. Well, I’m glad that you have seen fit to allow me to know the truth, sir.’

  ‘Just so.’ His stance was so rigid as he stood with his legs apart, his back straight. ‘Especially since your curiosity made you seek Thomas Lovent with more and more questions.’

  Ah, so this was what this was all about. Her persistent inquisitiveness about what had happened to Ralph after the ribbon was given back to her risked the exposure of whatever scheme Ralph and his friend had devised.

  Something else suddenly occurred to her. ‘You are his squire, the man who followed Sir Thomas into the hall?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  She suddenly felt ridiculous that she had cared. That she had grieved over this man, who seemed more like a stranger now. God, but she barely recognised him.

  ‘I should have realised there would be a reason such as this for you to tell me now.’

  ‘I regret that my perceived demise caused you such anguish, but know this—once I saw you again, I knew that you had a right to know about me.’

  ‘But not immediately, however.’

  Gwen’s jaw set, realising that he had seen her a few times and yet waited before informing her on this night. She could not help but feel a twinge of hurt, knowing that he had not done so until this moment in these woods, steeped in so many memories from their past. God, when she thought of the tears that she had shed, when she believed him to be dead. How she had mourned Ralph de Kinnerton and all this time—all these years—he had been alive, but had chosen not to tell her.

  ‘You were obviously there, listening as I spoke to Sir Thomas, while I was still grief-stricken, believing you to be dead.’

  He could have prevented the anguish, guilt and sorrow that had filled her heart when she had believed he had perished in a faraway land, but had chosen not to. Had she meant so little to him and been so inconsequential that Ralph could not have informed her earlier than this? Had their friendship, connection and love counted for nothing? Evidently not.

  ‘I’m sorry for that, but it was a shock to see you again as well. I should possibly have said something earlier, but in truth I can trust so few people in my life that I wasn’t sure that I should.’

  Gwen could not help feel that somehow Ralph’s reasons for withholding the truth all this time stemmed from the manner in which they had parted and his belief of her indifference towards him. This had been something she had painstakingly brought about, in order to get him to flee without her. God help her, but she had never fully considered the implications of the devastating wound she was inflicting on both of them.

  ‘Even me?’

  ‘Even you.’

  ‘Well, then you honour me, sir.’ She lifted her head. ‘Yet not enough to tell me what it is that you are doing here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I see.’ She felt a coldness trickle through her. ‘Although I can only guess that this has something to do with the prospect of gaining coin through this tournament, so you can get Kinnerton back?’

  ‘Can you blame me for trying?’

  ‘Of course not. But in this highly furtive manner, when you’re still presumed dead? While pretending to be another knight?’

  ‘Never you mind about that.’

  ‘Very well, but I imagine you believe that you’re doing your duty.’

  She could hear his quiet, hollow laugh. ‘Oh, yes, and you know very well about that, Gwen.’

  ‘What are you implying?’ She suddenly felt sick in her stomach as it twisted tightly.

  ‘Nothing, my lady. Only that the decision you made, when we last saw one another and parted ways, forced me to realise the importance of where my duty should actually lay.’

  ‘Did you believe that the choices I took were easy?’

  ‘You misunderstand me, Lady Gwenllian,’ he said in a clipped tone. ‘However, I cannot claim to know why you made the decisions you made.’

  Gwen felt as though she had received a blow to the stomach. Where once they had known and trusted one another, her actions had made Ralph doubt and question everything about her.

  ‘Yet, it was made with great difficulty, sir.’

  ‘I can believe it was and I hope to relieve you now from whatever those difficulties may have been.’

  Her smile felt brittle. ‘As easy as that?’

  ‘We can only do what we believe to be right, after all.’

  ‘And did you?’ She exhaled, unsure whether she wanted to know. ‘Did you believe what I did was right? To stay behind here in England?�
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  ‘That is not for me to answer, my lady. Not now...after all this time. Besides, it was a good lesson for me...a necessary lesson in the changes that I had to make if I were to be the man my father had wanted me to be.’

  Gwen closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. She felt bereft and saddened by this admission that Ralph had made. Had these changes that he had deemed necessary pushed out every last vestiges of the old Ralph? Indeed, did that side of him, the one she once loved and cherished, even exist any more?

  ‘Tell me something, sir—why did you give me back the ribbon?’

  He stepped back further into the darkness before answering. ‘I could no longer lay claim to such a gift and the meaning behind it. I wanted you to have it back.’

  ‘I see.’

  But, no, she did not see.

  It was the only part of his behaviour that seemed to conflict with the indifference Ralph now presented and the singular ambition that he pursued. Not that it really mattered now.

  ‘Well, there’s nothing further to say then.’

  ‘No,’ he muttered, allowing that single word to fill the silence for a moment. ‘If I...if I may ask whether I can count on your secrecy regarding everything you have learnt tonight?’

  ‘You may be assured of that. Your secret is safe with me.’ She swallowed as she took a step back as well.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Gwen rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. She suddenly had an overwhelming need to get away from here. From the secrets, the revelations, the lost hope. And a boy who had become a man. A man who was a stranger to her now.

  She flicked her head to face him one more time. ‘You have changed, sir.’

  ‘I have,’ he said, bitterly. ‘In more ways than you’ll ever know.’

  Oh, yes, those old wounds seemed to be far deeper than she could have ever imagined.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ralph bent his head, ignoring the metal digging sharply into his neck from the back of his helmet. It penetrated through the many layers he was wearing underneath, making a visit to the blacksmith, who had taken temporary residence in the outer bailey, a necessity in order to fix the problem and smooth out the rough edges. Or it would once he had finished his training.

  Ralph brushed his hands up and down his horse’s glossy mane. ‘We can do this...’

  He squeezed his calves and heels against his faithful black destrier’s lower flank, flicking the reins, making the animal sprint ahead.

  Ralph held off until he got closer to the makeshift target of round, hollow, metal rings that had been suspended from a long-erected stand, until he lowered his lance. He shifted the angle of the lance as he clutched it firmly in his left hand, his eyes narrowing.

  Closer. Closer. Closer, still...

  And then it was there—the target swinging back and forth in the breeze. Ralph tilted the pointed sharp metal end of his lance towards it as he thrust through the hollow centre and caught it, making it slide down the pole.

  He heard clapping to the side and knew it would be Tom, but as he glanced over, he spotted his mentor, William Geraint, standing with his arms crossed beside him as well.

  ‘That was excellent, Ralph.’ Will smiled, nodding at him as he rode towards them. ‘Much better than your attempt yesterday.’

  ‘My thanks—the technique of awaiting the target until I had it on sight was probably what made the difference.’

  Will shrugged. ‘That’s really Hugh’s gem of advice but it’s a good one, nevertheless.’

  Ralph passed the lance to Tom. ‘Indeed, it is.’

  ‘I would recommend, however, that you wait a fraction longer until you have the target directly in your sight.’

  ‘Duly noted.’

  Will rubbed his jaw and tipped his head at him. ‘And bring the lance a little higher, in line with your ear. That way you can strike expediently in either direction.’

  Ralph nodded. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘No, just keep up the practice, Ralph. I’m glad we’re finally making progress here.’ Will gave him a wry smile before turning on his heel. ‘And lest I forget, Isabel would like the presence of your company tonight, so I hope to see the two of you at the banquet later.’

  ‘My lord.’

  Ralph was still perched on his mount with Tom beside the horse on foot, as they watched their patron’s retreating footsteps.

  Tom finally spoke. ‘That went well.’

  ‘I still need to go over it a few more times, if you would be so obliging to set it up again.’

  ‘Certainly. Shall we try for an even smaller target this time? It might be interesting to see if you can rise to the challenge?’

  ‘Very well.’

  Tom looked up at him and pulled his hood over his head as Ralph turned his horse, Fortis, around. ‘Don’t look now, but Lady Gwenllian has just noticed you from afar.’

  Ralph turned Fortis again in the direction that Tom had motioned towards and his breath caught at the sight of Gwen with her companion beside her, stopping and staring at them from beyond the training area.

  It seemed as though their gaze caught and fused together even though there was considerable distance between them. Even though the back of Ralph’s head and neck were encased within a padded coif and his whole face was covered by the metal helmet with only narrow slit openings for him to see through. It did not matter.

  He saw her and his heart tripped over itself.

  Ralph was meant to have felt much lighter, with his conscience eased after having disclosed to Gwen the fact that he was alive and back in England a few days ago.

  He was supposed to feel relief from that revelation, so that he could move on with his life. Push her out of his mind, so that he could focus on what really mattered to him now—this.

  Winning this tournament and somehow getting Kinnerton back.

  He had to hone his skills so that he could pitch them against the best knights in England. And somehow prove that he was actually capable of becoming the Marcher Lord he was supposed to be. A Marcher Lord that many, including his father, had doubted he would be successful at.

  Ralph had endured his father’s criticisms throughout his life, but these were compounded more so when his cousin had come to live with them. Everything changed when Stephen had arrived in Kinnerton. He had taken an instant dislike to Ralph and revelled in exposing his inadequacies to his father. All in the hope of gaining favour and presenting himself as a far better candidate as heir. And although Ralph bitterly knew his shortcomings, coming from his own father it had been painful. More so, since there had been few who had not shared that perception of Ralph.

  God, but even Gwenllian had probably doubted his capabilities all those years ago. It certainly explained why she had not fled Kinnerton with him. And if he had been honest with himself, Ralph knew that they had been right to doubt him. Back then, he had none of the necessary skills to command respect—neither in physical ability, his presence or through any leadership qualities.

  Now he did, however. Now Ralph could show them just what he was capable of...he hoped. Indeed, he hoped that he was fortuitous enough to put everything he had learnt into practice.

  He let out a slow breath as he pondered on the beautiful woman who plagued his dreams.

  His reunion with Gwen had not eased anything and he had not achieved any peace of mind. Their whole encounter had been difficult. Ralph had wanted to let her know that he was alive so that it would cease any further interest in him. Her curiosity had to be satisfied and now, hopefully, it was.

  But then that did not mean it had lessened his curiosity about her life and everything that had happened after they parted six years ago. The truth was that Ralph had so many questions of his own about what she had done since then.

  And his disclosures in the woods had certainly not gone as smoothly as he’d
hoped. In his haste to only tell her what he wanted her to know, avoiding her difficult questions, Ralph had inadvertently offended Gwen.

  God’s breath!

  Although it might have not been his intention, it was probably for the best that she believed his indifference towards her. Ralph needed to cast aside those feelings which had resurfaced ever since he had set eyes on her. It would not do to rekindle any of them, however much he still desired Gwen, even after all this time. Even after the pain that she had caused him all those years ago.

  Indeed, as long as they kept apart from one another, he would hope to eventually achieve some semblance of peace and equanimity regarding Gwen. Then everything would fall into place, as that last link from his past would also finally break and he could be the man he was always meant to be. The man she evidently hadn’t believed he could be.

  He blinked and made a small inclination of his head, which she returned before turning on her heel and walking away, her veil flapping in the breeze.

  Yes, it was imperative that he did not allow himself to be drawn into any sort of acquaintance or familiarity with Gwenllian ferch Hywel.

  ‘Come, let’s get on with this.’ Ralph scowled.

  * * *

  The day passed without further interruptions but Ralph was still distracted. And this was not made any easier now that he was under the same timber-framed roof as Gwen. He hadn’t wanted to come to the banquet this evening, knowing it best that he kept his distance from Gwenllian. It was the only way to stop this incessant curiosity about the woman.

  Yet Ralph could not deny Isabel de Clancey’s company for the world, especially as she had only just arrived with her infant daughter to see her husband. Isabel was like a sister to him, whose warmth and interest in his well-being was as bewildering as it was humbling. He knew unequivocally that without Isabel’s help and support he would not be where he was today. Hell, he doubted whether he would even be alive.

  ‘I trust that everything is going as well as we had planned, Ralph?’ Isabel’s head was turned away from him as he moved forward to fetch the jug of ale while he performed his duties as a squire.

  ‘Not quite. Have you not spoken with Lord de Clancey, Isabel?’ he muttered as he poured some ale into her mug.