He would just have to capture Edward during the melee. Then he could question the man and use him as ransom if necessary to get his true enemy here. And if the baron’s son was aware of his father’s misdeeds and had done nothing to atone for them, Giric might just take his life instead.
Wouldn’t that cause more damage to the baron, anyway? Ending Edward’s life would surely destroy the man, and wouldn’t that be a more fitting way to avenge his father’s death?
Early the next morning before the sun had a chance to rise, Giric made his way to the great hall in hope that Edward would make an appearance to break his fast. Sleep had eluded him until he’d decided to follow the baron’s son as time allowed to get to know the man’s strengths and weaknesses. His years at court had taught him how to observe others without their knowledge.
Just as golden rays broke through the windows, Edward strolled into the hall and sat near a group of men who welcomed him with boisterous greetings that Giric could see, but not hear, from his seat. The group ate as they laughed and talked with one another.
When they finished their meal, Edward stood and started back toward the steps, but one of the men he’d been dining with stopped him, then herded him toward the exit.
Giric covertly followed the pair as they left the castle and walked through the village. They wandered in and out of establishments and stopped to converse with a couple of knights on the street. Giric watched as the tall, thin, blond man with Edward seemed to orchestrate their interaction with the others. He comported himself as if he were in charge, and Edward’s easy smile made it appear as if they might be close friends. Giric would find out who he was by the time the sun set.
A soft, familiar laugh danced above the sound of the busy street, floating through the air and resting gently in his ears. A small thrill shot through him. He turned and scoured the crowds.
There she was. His bonny lass from last night.
She wore her curly, waist-length hair partially plaited and free of a headpiece today. It was the first time he could see her lovely, oval-shaped face without any barriers. He was better able to appreciate her beauty this way. The day was sunny, and the warm rays highlighted the changing shades of her tresses. The glorious strands were a subtle brown, but at the same time, it had a luminescent quality to it as if the sun had kissed it.
He liked the idea that she might be partial to being out in nature. He had assumed English lasses spent all their time indoors mending stockings.
She had high cheekbones that were rosy with mirth as she watched a show where the actors were using dolls to mimic the characters they were portraying. He had to admit it was entertaining, but he was more interested in watching her. He could become accustomed to gazing upon the lady’s face.
It was a shame she was from England, and he did not have time to court her properly due to his mission. He had learned a little about her, though. Her clothing, like today’s purple gown, made it obvious she was no camp follower. She seemed to be a lady of some gentler breeding, perhaps the daughter of a knight or lord.
He tore his gaze away to watch the door of the shop Edward had entered. As he waited for his quarry to reemerge, he pondered the commonality of the man’s name. He’d met two more Edwards this morning while breaking his fast.
The lass laughed, drawing his attention again, and he couldn’t resist moving closer. Although his feet carried him toward her, his eyes darted back and forth between the English lass and the door to the establishment where Edward was shopping.
He found himself by her side. “Good day to ye, fair lass.”
Her eyes met his and lit. “Good day, Sir Giric. I see you have found me.”
“At first I thought ’twould be hard no’ kenning yer name, but all I had to do was ask any passersby where to find the bonniest lass in all of England.”
She blushed, and two women standing near her broke out into laughter.
“I trust you slept well and are rested for the day’s activities,” she said.
A loud burst of noise came from the stage, and the other ladies returned their attention to the show, but his lass kept her focus fixed on him.
“I might have slept better had I no’ thought there was a lass whose favor I wish to gain but who willnae grace me with her name.” He moved close and whispered in her ear, “If I ask yer friends, will they tell me?”
But he didn’t want that; he wanted her to open up to him, and he desired to hear it from her mouth. His eyes were drawn to her lips. They were full and smiling and a deep, rosy pink that he suddenly realized he wanted to taste.
He swallowed as unexpected stirrings shot through him.
“I have known you one evening. They are faithful companions who have earned my trust over many years, and I believe they will keep my secret should you compel me to ask them to do so.”
“I wouldnae dream of forcing yer hand in any matter. Surrender is sweeter when given freely.”
“Well, then.” She leaned in, and he caught a whiff of fresh-cut roses. He wanted to close the distance between them and inhale. There was something intoxicating about this woman. He’d never had someone so boldly taunt him. “Ye have just earned a point for your honesty.”
He licked his lips, and she drew back. Her intense gaze locked on his, tightening his body.
“I am making it my quest to earn yer confidence.” Her friends were watching them again with sly smiles, and he knew they’d overheard. He nodded in their direction, waiting for his lady, if he could call her that when he didn’t know her name, to introduce them.
“Then perhaps ye will escort us to the bakery when the show is done. I have heard they make the most divine lemon cakes.”
His gut twisted. Argh, he wanted to. But he had his mission. His gaze darted back to the shop, just in time to see Edward strolling away from it. If he’d waited a second longer, he would have missed the man.
“I’m devastated that I cannae join ye. I have some business to see to.” His attention jumped between Edward and the lass. He would lose the man in a moment if he didn’t leave. Yet his English lady looked disappointed, and regret stabbed in his chest. Had he just destroyed his chances of getting to know her?
“Perhaps I will see ye this afternoon? Ye said ye would be attending the jousts,” he said as he backed away.
“Yes. I will.” Her tone was optimistic, and relief filled him when he realized she did not feel slighted by his refusal to escort them.
“Then do I have yer permission to seek ye out?” He took her hand, surprised by his own action. She didn’t protest.
“I would enjoy that, Sir Giric.”
He liked the sound of his name on her lips and the feel of her soft skin touching his.
“Farewell, my nameless lady.” He brought her hand to his lips as he dipped his head. Before placing his mouth to her flesh, he inhaled. This time along with the roses, he smelled sandalwood. His whole body tensed at the intoxicating mix, and he wanted to pull her near, close the distance between them, and...
What? They didn’t know each other. Nothing would come from this flirtation, but he couldn’t stop.
He pressed his mouth to her soft skin. His gaze lifted to see her eyes transfixed on him. Her lips were parted, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss her. If just skimming her hand set his body on end, what would the sensation of her wine-kissed mouth do to his control?
He pulled away. “Until then, fair lass.” He bowed, turned, and regretfully ran in the direction Edward had gone.
Jennet studied Giric’s broad back and shoulders as he bounded down the street. In the dim candlelit rooms and courtyards of last eve, she’d not realized how light his hair was. With his build and coloring, he could be a descendant of Thor from the famed Old Norse myth. And she did feel as if a bolt of lightning had jolted her because her chest was light as exhilaration thrummed through her.
Ada tugged at her hand and drew Jennet’s attention back to her friends. Her cheeks heated as both her companions waited f
or her to explain her flirtation with the stranger. Warmth spread through her limbs as she tried to contain her excitement. Was the knight truly vying for her affections?
“Who was that?” Ada’s smile accused her of hiding the brawny man.
Well, she had. She’d wanted to keep her Scottish knight a secret, and she’d thought after last night, she might never see him again anyway. Besides, her best friend had been absent all evening, and she could only guess by Ada’s flushed cheeks and disheveled appearance when she’d arrived at their room this morning that she and Eddie had been celebrating their engagement ahead of their wedding.
“His name is Sir Giric de Beaumont MacDonald.”
“And?” Ada prodded.
“And he’s the nephew of the queen consort of Scotland.” She had to admit that the tingles spreading through her just talking about him were a warning sign that perhaps she liked the knight’s attention a bit more than prudent.
“Where did you meet him?” Her friend tapped her foot.
“We shared a dance last evening.”
“And you were going to keep him a secret?” Ada pinched her lips together in mock disapproval.
“Well, you were quite busy with my brother last night, and I couldn’t find Sybil, so I hadn’t had the chance to tell you.”
Sybil stilled and became stoic.
Ada had been beaming and talkative all morning, but their other companion and chamber-mate, Sybil, had been appalled by Ada and Eddie’s actions. Sybil’s brother was the Earl of Bruton, Lord Roger Nash. They were close neighbors in the south and had accompanied them on the journey. Sybil was sharing a room with her and Ada since half of England seemed to have been invited to this tournament.
Over the last few years, Sybil and the baron had been visiting sporadically, and Jennet sometimes found herself alone with the baron as her friend had tried to steal Edward’s affections. Lord Roger Nash was close to fifteen years her senior, and she was always intimidated by the way he took charge of their household, ordering everyone about as if their servants belonged to him. She tolerated it because he’d been a good friend and mentor to Eddie. Although she loved Ada and thought she was the best choice for Edward, Jennet couldn’t help but feel a bit of compassion for Sybil’s hurt pride at Eddie’s disinterest.
“Well, tell us all about this Scottish knight,” Ada persisted.
“We only shared a dance and conversation.”
“It appears he wishes to share more than a dance with you. Do I need to tell Edward to beware of Scottish knights, lest the man whisk you away, and I never see you again?” Ada giggled, but Sybil only narrowed her eyes.
Heat crept up Jennet’s neck. “No. You know how I feel about Scotland. You will never find me living there again.”
“As long as you promise not to leave me. Let’s get those pastries. Sybil, what did you think of the show?” Ada turned to their friend, trying to pull her into the conversation. Maybe she sensed the tension as well.
“It was a nice distraction, but I’m looking forward to the jousts.” Sybil finally smiled, and Jennet hoped the animosity she’d felt after learning Edward would marry Ada was melting.
“Perhaps we will find you a knight or a baron. Have you spied anyone who might catch your interest?” Maybe now Sybil could focus on another man. Perhaps Jennet’s younger brother, William, who had remained at home to see to their father. Yes, if she couldn’t find Sybil a suitor here, William would do. That way, they could all remain close.
“No. Not yet, but we have plenty of time.” Sybil started toward the shop.
Jennet and Ada followed as they made their way to the bakery. They’d almost reached it when shouting erupted behind them. Jennet turned and saw a horde of people running in their direction. A woman fleeing the raucous crowd smacked into her, knocking her to the ground. Ada held out a hand as people continued to dash away from the scene.
On her feet, Jennet glanced around to see people streaming toward them. Sybil shouted, “Over here,” and motioned toward the buildings.
She and Ada ran for the small alley between two establishments where their friend waited. Jennet’s eyes darting around as if she expected more danger. It appeared they would be safe from the fleeing villagers and visitors until whatever had happened to upset the crowd was settled.
Her hands burned, and she lifted them to inspect her trembling palms. Red marks evinced her fall, but the skin was not torn.
“Are you hurt?” Ada asked.
“No. I’ll just be bruised. I wonder what’s happening.” They moved deeper into the alleyway.
Taking a deep breath, Jennet turned to look back toward the street and froze. A large man blocked the way they’d come in. Her pulse accelerated. He brandished a knife, and his gaze darted back and forth between the three of them as he slowly stalked forward, swinging the blade around as if trying to choose who to attack first. The dark intent in his gaze sent chills spiraling to the pit of her stomach.
Sybil grabbed her arm and pulled her farther back, attempting to shield her from the approaching man. She glanced over her shoulder to the rear of the close. Their escape was cut off by large wooden crates that had been left outside one of the business’s doors. She swung around. The brute had turned his sights on Ada.
The man started toward her brother’s love, who stood shaking and rooted to the ground. Jennet pulled free from Sybil’s grasp and latched onto Ada to draw her back before the man got closer.
“What’s happening here?” A familiar voice came from behind their attacker, but the drawl was sharp, angry.
Sir Giric.
Relief flooded her.
The brute turned to face the knight who had come to their rescue. Without a word, the villain charged at their savior, attempting to sink his knife into the Scottish knight’s side. Giric dodged, and the man stumbled past him, nearly falling to the ground. The brute regained his footing and charged at Sir Giric again, but her knight knocked the weapon free of the man’s hand, then punched their attacker in the face. The brute’s hand rose to his nose as crimson spilled from his nostrils. The man’s eyes narrowed with rage before he reevaluated his opponent and fled down the alley for the street.
Sir Giric gave chase.
He stopped at the street and gazed in the direction the man had run. But he shook his head before pivoting around and running toward them. “He’s lost in the crowd. I willnae be able to find him right now. I’ll make inquiries this afternoon.”
All she could do was nod.
“Are ye injured?” He took her hand and lifted it to inspect for damage before his scrutiny traveled over her, seeming to check for injuries. She turned her fingers over in his palm and twined them with his, reassuring herself with his steadying presence. His hand in hers was comforting, and she would hold on as long as he let her.
The concern in his eyes surrounded her with warmth. She fought the urge to throw herself into his embrace until the pounding in her heart stilled. His strong arms would surely stop this quaking in her core.
“No. You arrived before he was able to cause harm. I think he was crazed. It looked like he was going to kill us.”
Giric’s gaze traveled to her companions to evaluate their condition as well. “Are ye ladies uninjured?”
Her friends only nodded. Apparently satisfied everyone was safe, he analyzed their surroundings.
“This way,” he instructed as he guided them out the back of the alley through a space that she hadn’t seen before. She was thankful his hand still held hers. Several people loitered on this roadway, but it was calm.
Giric stopped and glanced around; she assumed to get their bearings. “There appears to have been a brawl. I think Lord Yves is having the streets cleared. Hopefully, that will end whatever foolishness has taken place.”
“Do ye think it’s s-s-safe?” Ada stumbled over the words. It was the first time in years her friend’s stutter had been noticeable, and Jennet’s heart ached for her.
“Aye. I’ll see ye ladi
es back to the castle. Come.” He looked them all over before his gaze again rested on her, reassuring, soothing. He stopped. “Is that where ye are staying?”
“Yes. The castle.”
“Then come, my lady.” He kept his hand locked securely with hers.
“Jennet,” she said.
Their eyes met, and she felt as if she were floating. For a long moment, they were the only people in the world. She licked her lips as her body heated. His touch and the intensity of his blue gaze sent a rush of awareness through her.
“My name is Jennet.”
Chapter 4
Giric turned the word over in his mind. Jennet. It was a lovely name. It suited her. He was frozen, gazing into eyes that watched him as if he could save her from drowning.
Instead, he was falling into the dark pools of her eyes. She trusted him. Delight shot through him. Despite her teasing from the evening before, he sensed she was reserved and didn’t take many into her confidence.
A pressure somewhere in his chest lightened. He’d been blaming himself for his father’s fate for years. And now this lass gazed upon him as if he had a purpose. One that years of fighting under the king had not given him, something deeper than duty.
A kiss from her was more necessary than a breath.
He shook his head. This was not why he was here. He’d come to England to find revenge, not be sidetracked by this bonny creature. Aye, she made him laugh, but she also made him forget everything else.
Och, where was his enemy’s son now?
He’d lost the man in the confusion. When shouts had started, and the throng of people began running, he’d seen her…Jennet…across the street as her friend pulled her from the ground. They’d sought shelter in the alley. He’d dodged the currents to reach her and ensure she made it to safety.
Even now, as her hand trembled in his, he felt a strong urge to protect her. Maybe it was because he’d failed so long ago. But he didn’t think so—there was something about this woman that reached in and soothed the scorched parts of his being that he’d thought would never bear emotion again.
The Highland Knight's Revenge Page 3
