Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01 Page 3

Seated between Lady Baldith and Sibilla, he found himself held captive by their ceaseless chatter.

  Feigning interest, he could not stop thinking about Warin’s older sister. Egad, he thought, I do not even know her name.

  Throughout the meal, he kept an eye on Warin as the lad’s anxious gaze kept returning to the door. He alone noticed when Warin slipped away from the table to speak to an elder serf woman standing in the shadows by the door.

  Whenever Fulke broke away from the cloying women to speak to Warin, Sir Everard would materialize by his side with an excuse to lead him away.

  Frustrated, at one point he came close to following the lad into the garderobe to demand answers.

  Left with no choice, he reluctantly returned to the table. Curtly responding when one of the women questioned him.

  He believed his chance had come at last when the family prepared to retire for the night. Bidding him a curt good eve, Sir Everard motioned for Warin to ascend the steps before him, leaving him to grind his teeth in frustration.

  Warin’s duties would not officially start until after they left Kenwick, yet he had no intention of waiting that long. Pondering the many possibilities that would explain Sibilla’s comments, he deemed the elder sister to be a fallen woman. If that were the case, he could not very well hold it against her. It would make him no better than a lowly charlatan.

  The fact that his men were privy to the latest turn of events worsened his already dark mood. Well into their cups from the free-flowing ale, Gervase and Guy spoke in animated tones, no doubt making plans to pursue Warin’s older sister. Barely perceiving Albin’s low disheartened sigh had him fighting the urge to stalk from the hall in disappointment.

  As Sibilla leaned into him, plying him with endless questions about the latest court fashions, something he knew absolutely nothing about, he recalled the fiery spirit displayed by her sister. When she grew bold enough to place a pudgy hand on his sleeve, he remembered the slender grace of another’s, even as they waved in anger.

  A cold breeze swept the hall as the heavy ironbound oak door swung open, drawing him from his recollections.

  The elder woman Warin spoke to earlier rushed across the hall. Lost to her own musings, she failed to notice him.

  Gripping the front of her coarse, brown woolen kirtle, she hastened up the steps.

  Standing, he followed her flight along the upper arched passage until he lost her to view. After a light rapping sound, he detected low conversation.

  To the sound of returning footsteps, he retreated to the shadows with a smile. At last, he would have his answers.

  Descending the steps, he heard panic in the woman’s voice as she whispered anxiously, “I tell you Master Warin, she refused to even look at me. When Rolfe did not recognize Eddiva, she snatched him up, taking to the woods with naught but the moon to guide her.”

  Swinging his cloak around his shoulders, Warin spotted Fulke as he stepped into the light.

  Warin placed a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder as she inhaled sharply. “I apologize if we disturbed you, my liege.”

  “What seems to be the trouble, lad?”

  “With your permission, Hylda cares for my sister and has summoned me to stop her.”

  Suspicion narrowed Fulke’s brows. “Stop her from doing what, exactly?”

  Hylda blurted, “My mistress brought a small boy with a fever to the stream. She has him in the water, your lordship.” Her eyes sparkled with tears in the dim light. “The water is nigh to freezing. Please let master Warin come, he is the only one that can make her see reason.”

  By the Saints, Fulke swore to himself. The lad’s sister must be daft.

  Without pausing for his cloak, he headed for the door. “Lead me to my horse.”

  Hylda reached the base of the hill on foot by the time he and Warin rode from the stables.

  A sense of urgency gripped him as he rode slightly behind Warin. The woods, dense with ancient yew and lofty oaks ran at the base of the hill for as far as the eye could see. Even by the light of the full moon, it was dark by the tree line where Hylda waited.

  Catching her breath, she called, “We must make haste, Master Warin.”

  Reaching for Fulke’s reins, he secured both horses to a tree bough. His breath steaming in the cold night air, he called over his shoulder, “Stay close my liege, the woods are thick until closer to the stream.”

  Picking through the heavy underbrush, Fulke followed Warin into the near blackness, holding aside branches to keep them from snapping back at Hylda as they made their way forward.

  “We are almost there, my liege,” Warin called from somewhere up ahead.

  Stumbling onward, the dark gradually gave way to moonlight spilling across a small copse with a wide stream cutting through it.

  Reaching the banked slope, Fulke stood mesmerized by the scene before him. In the light of the moon, Warin’s sister stood waist-high in the freezing water. Clad only in a thin linen chemise, she lovingly cradled a small child in her arms. Rocking him, she smoothed the boy’s wet hair from his brow with a trembling hand. With her sodden chemise clinging like a second skin, her entire body shivered from the cold.

  Fulke had never before witnessed such a selfless act.

  Warin dashed down the bank into the water as Fulke crashed back into the moment finding his voice. “Zounds mistress, come away,” he shouted.

  About to follow Warin, Hylda’s faint words stopped him. “My mistress cannot hear you, your lordship.”

  Stumbling away from the edge of the bank, he swung around to face her. “What did you say?”

  “Mistress Reina cannot hear you. She lost her hearing as a wee babe, your lordship.”

  Fulke focused on the couple in the frigid water. Their mouths moved as if they quarreled, yet he could not hear a single word being spoken.

  “Tell me how this is possible,” he breathed.

  “She can understand what is being said by following lips. Master Warin began showing her from the moment he could speak,” Hylda replied proudly.

  He stood transfixed a few moments longer. Seeing Reina refuse to leave the water, he slid down the bank and into the water.

  Surprise registered on Reina’s face as he splashed his way towards her and her eyes widened in alarm the moment she recognized him.

  Reaching her side, Fulke gently lifted Rolfe from her arms. Passing him to Warin, he said. “Take him to his mother.”

  “Aye my liege.” Holding Rolfe high against his chest, Warin waded for the shore.

  Facing Reina, Fulke paid no heed to the frigid water soaking him.

  Before she could even cross her arms in modesty, he swept her up in his arms. Holding her close against him, he turned for the bank.

  His leather boots slipping in the mud, he struggled to scale the steep incline. Entering the darkness of the trees, he protected Reina the best he could from the thick foliage. Calling ahead to Warin, “Make haste lad, your sister is nigh to freezing.”

  Cradled in his arms, he felt Reina tremble uncontrollably. Hazarding a peek down, he saw her eyes briefly focus on him, before drifting closed. Praying they were not too late, he inhaled sharply when she went limp, her head rolling back against his arm.

  Struggling with their burdens through the thick underbrush, Fulke shouted to Hylda, “Stoke the fire in the boy's hut.”

  Without a word or glimpse back, she hiked up her kirtle to take flight.

  Fulke followed her departure as she crashed through the thick bracken, before he lost her to the darkness.

  He sprinted past Warin once they cleared the trees to the hut he had seen Reina enter earlier in the day. Bending low through the portal, he rushed inside.

  Having stoked the fire, Hylda gathered blankets, alongside another woman.

  As Warin entered, the woman hastened to lead him to a small pallet beside the hearth. “I shall take him, Master Warin.” Gathering the boy in her arms, she stripped off his sodden clothes before bundling him in blankets.
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  Fulke brought Reina to the opposite side of the now blazing hearth, laying her down on the thin straw pallet set beside it. Forsaking modesty, he knelt beside her to grasp the hem of her chemise. Ripping it down the middle, he flung it aside as he snatched a blanket from Hylda to cover her pale, trembling form. Lifting a delicate foot, he began to chafe warmth into her frozen toes.

  He briefly looked up when Hylda knelt beside him. “See to her fingers and pray it is not too late to save them.”

  Catching Hylda’s eye as he began to caress life into Reina’s frozen calves, he managed a wry smile. “I assure you, I am not taking liberties with your mistress.”

  “I know very well the difference between a lustful eye and a healing one. I place Reina’s life above any modesty she would cleave to, your lordship.”

  Fulke gazed at Reina as he massaged color back into her frozen limbs. With high-sculpted cheekbones, small pert nose and full pouting lips, he found her to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  “You said she lost her voice as a babe. What happened to her?”

  Finished with Reina’s hands, Hylda began to unbraid her wet hair. “I fear it is not a happy tale, your lordship. However, if you wish to hear it, I feel it owed to you after your assist this night.”

  “Go on,” Fulke dipped his head.

  “Sir Everard and Lady Malina doted on her,” she began softly. “A more contented family, none could name. She was such a small lass,” she smiled at the recollection, “more bright eyes, than bodily form. The day of the tragedy, Reina had taken her first steps. I had never before seen them so happy.” She smoothed a wayward curl from Reina’s brow lost in thought. “That eve found Reina gravely ill with a fever. When it spiked, we brought her to the stream in an attempt to cool her heated skin. It was late spring and not nearly as cold as it is now. The sickness passed through the village, striking down my Lady Malina as well. Still, she tended Reina for two straight days without rest. On the third day, Reina’s fever broke. By that time, my lady had become too weak to fight off the illness.” Tears fell freely from Hylda’s eyes. “Sir Everard sent for the priest to shrive her, yet my lady had passed before he arrived.”

  “And then what happened?” Fulke pressed.

  Hylda glanced over at Warin as he stacked wood beside the hearth. He gave her a sorrowful nod as she continued. “After it became known the illness had taken Mistress Reina’s hearing, Sir Everard all but shunned her.” Hylda broke down sobbing.

  She did not have to finish the story. Fulke spent most of his life dealing with men like Sir Everard. The nobility did not accept the weak or infirm.

  He caught his breath at the sensations that rippled through him as he lightly caressed the side of Reina’s face with his fingertips. He was not the only one to have suffered immense loss. In a matter of days, Reina had lost her mother, her father’s acceptance and her hearing. Thrown into a world of silence, she rose above adversity to become the determined woman before him.

  He reached over to clasp Hylda’s shoulder. “Your mistress is fortunate to have you.”

  * * * *

  Reina opened her eyes, disoriented and aching all over. Taking in her surroundings, she found Hylda sobbing beside her. Struggling to rise, she drew in a breath as a large, warm hand came to rest on her bare shoulder, gently restraining her. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran through her as she quickly realized she was bare beneath the thin woolen blanket. Sinking back down, she followed the hand up the muscular arm to its owner. Her eyes widened as she met Baron Erlegh’s concerned gaze.

  Stunned by his presence, she focused on the words flowing from his chiseled lips. “Are you faring better, Mistress Reina?”

  Slowly nodding, she found herself unable to look away from him. Warin broke into her reverie by squeezing her hand. “You are far too reckless, Reina,” he chided.

  “Please tell me Rolfe’s fever has broken.”

  “Be at ease, his skin is cool to the touch.” Shaking his head, he grinned. “In this instance, I cannot very well take you to task for your stubbornness.”

  “I told you it would work,” she replied smugly. Feeling the heat of Fulke’s intense gaze, she asked, “Why did you bring his lordship, Warin? Father is sure to be displeased with you.”

  Warin deflated at the mention of their father. “I had no choice. Besides, father is displeased with everything I do.”

  “Perhaps his lordship will not speak of it,” she ventured.

  Warin briefly glanced to where Fulke sat in amazed silence, watching them. “I believe that to be so. He is the finest man I have ever met.”

  She squeezed his hand. “It pleases me that you think so highly of him. Still, I will not have you blamed for something of my doing, Warin.”

  “It shall not come to that, Reina. We will return to the keep before anyone wakes. If need be, I shall ask his lordship for his discretion.”

  Risking a quick peek, she blushed to see Fulke’s regard settled on her. Feeling warm all over, she turned back to Warin. “I believe him to be taken aback.”

  “I would say so.” His lip quirked. “You should have seen him by the stream. He leaned so far over the bank to stare at us I thought for certain he would fall.”

  Reina could not help herself she burst out laughing. Although no sound came out, her face lit with joy. Calming, she said, “I think it best if you voice your word, Warin. I would not offend his lordship after he has been so kind to us.”

  “I knew you would like him.”

  She glanced at Fulke to see if Warin spoke aloud, only to catch her breath when he smiled. Returning his smile with a shy one of her own, she turned back. “You are not amusing.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Now, would I do that to you, Reina?”

  She beamed, “Aye you would.” Clutching the blanket, she continued, “Now, if you do not mind, I would like to dress.”

  Warin kept his lips visible to her as he addressed Fulke. “I believe it best if we return to the keep soon, my liege. It is well past matins.”

  “See to the horses, lad.” Rising, Fulke gazed down at Reina with an unfathomable expression, before addressing her. “I shall leave you a moment to dress, Mistress Reina.” Dipping his head, he stepped into the brisk night air.

  Much weaker than she initially thought, Reina struggled into a sitting position.

  Hylda rushed over to help her stand. “The coldness of the water has weakened you, Reina.”

  Taking her under-gown and kirtle from Hylda, she began to search for her chemise; spotting the sodden mass beside the hearth, she bent to retrieve the rent cloth. Raising her eyes to question Hylda, she hesitated as every scene she envisioned led back to Baron Erlegh seeing her naked.

  Discarding the ruined chemise, she finished dressing, determined not to ask.

  She knelt before Eddiva to run a hand along Rolfe’s wet brow. With a relieved sigh, she sent up a quick prayer of thanks. The fever appeared to be breaking.

  Touching her hand, Eddiva said, “Ye shall not leave my prayers all the days of my life, Mistress Reina.”

  Gently squeezing her work-roughened hand in acknowledgement, Reina smiled.

  * * * *

  Returning to escort Reina, Fulke once again found himself amazed by her selflessness. Kneeling in the dirt with no regard for her skirts, she lovingly tended a child not her own.

  Long ago, he stopped believing women like her existed in the world. He found her to be the embodiment of all that was innocent and good. In that moment, he realized a painful truth. He would never be worthy of her.

  “Your lordship?” Hylda questioned. Dragging him from his grim thoughts.

  “What is it, Hylda?”

  “Sir Everard,” she began.

  “Shall hear nothing of this,” he finished for her.

  “You have my thanks, your lordship.”

  Watching Reina approach, he murmured, “Think no more of it.”

  “Shall we, Mistress Reina?” Exte
nding his arm, he smiled.

  At the light touch of her hand, he ignored the feelings elicited by her touch. “Coming, Hylda?”

  “I intend to pass the night here, your lordship. Eddiva may have need of me.”

  With the moon on its descent, it had grown darker since they entered the hut. The meager light afforded coming from the open door.

  Shivering in his wet clothes, Warin stepped forward. “Shall I take my sister up before me, my liege?”

  “No lad, I shall take her up before me, my horse can bear the additional weight.”

  Reina tilted her head to get his attention, before arching a shapely brow.

  Embarrassed, he belatedly added, “Not that you weigh more than my battle gear, mistress.” Realizing he must sound like a babbling lack-wit, he looked away, cursing under his breath.

  Reina tugged his sleeve until he looked at her. When she had his attention, she smiled.

  Fulke briefly covered her hand. “Thank you for your kindness, mistress. I assure you, I do not make a habit of playing the fool.”

  He vaulted into the saddle before reaching down to lift her up. Guiding her legs around the pommel, he positioned her sideways on the saddle before him. Reina moved to situate herself as his wet hose soaked through her clothing. Briefly brushing against his manhood, a spark of lust ignited into fire when she wrapped her arm around his waist to balance herself.

  Adjusting in the saddle to conceal his sudden arousal, Fulke tightened his arm, gently easing her back against his chest as the wind gusted, causing a lock of lavender scented hair to caress his cheek. Gritting his teeth, he fought to control the surge of lust threatening to overwhelm him. Forced once again to re-adjust his seat, he spurred his horse in the direction of the keep.

  Warin turned to them as they set off, “With your permission, my liege, I shall await you at the stables.”

  “We shall not be far behind, lad,” watching Warin ride off into the light of the waning moon.

  Finding himself in his own personal version of hell, Fulke sought the resolve to keep his hands to himself. With Reina snuggled against him, her cheek resting lightly in the crook of his neck, he found himself torn.