Knight: Once a Knight Part 24

"You could if you married me."

She turned away. "We've already had this conversation."

"It wasn't a conversation, it was a shouting match."

She moved her shoulders uncomfortably. "Nothing's changed since this afternoon."

He chuckled. "Oh, Alisoun."

"Except Sir Walter!"

"I can't keep you safe here. I can't keep your people safe here. You have a market, and a busy town center. Peddlers come through, and country people and farmers who've heard about your prosperity and seek some for themselves. I can't keep track of every stranger every moment he's here. Neither can your men, and this vicious attack on Sir Walter is going to put your villagers at odds with the very people who come to trade with them."

"I know that." She placed one hand on her stomach and one on her head. "I don't know what to do."

He moved closer and pressed her hard for a decision. "Can you take a chance with them?"

She didn't move.

"I've seen robberies and beatings on the road less vicious than the one inflicted on Sir Walter." Laying his hand over the one she pressed to her belly, he asked, "Can you take a chance with the babe?"

She looked up at him, and for the first time, her every emotion showed on her face-fear, distress, anguish. And he wished he had his old Alisoun back. He wanted that serenity for her. He wanted her to have the time to relish her accomplishments, her skills, her pregnancy. But he wanted her to do it with him, and she had to understand their marriage was no longer just an option. It was a necessity.

He hadn't intended to comfort her until she'd given in, but he couldn't bear to see her so upset. Wrapping her in his arms, he rocked her against him.

Turning her head into his chest, she wailed, "I'm so embarra.s.sed."

"Embarra.s.sed?" He moved her back a little. "Why embarra.s.sed?"

"I failed in my responsibility to care for Sir Walter."

"Corpus Christi." He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Setting her down in the middle, he leaned close and told her, "If there's something keeping Sir Walter awake tonight, it's that he failed in his responsibility to you."

"Nay, I-"

"Alisoun." He kissed her.

"I should have-"

He kissed her again.

"I didn't-"

He kissed her again. And again. Soft, gentle kisses that cradled her senses and finally brought her relief from the endless round of self-recriminations. Then he tasted her tears and used his sleeve to wipe them from her cheeks. "You're the best lady any demesne could have. You know you are."

She pressed her lips together and sniffed.

"Admit it." He kissed her. "Admit it."

"I am."

He wanted to grin at her reluctant confirmation, but more than that he wanted to kiss her. She needed his kisses now, needed solace and security. With his tongue, he outlined her lips. When they parted, he ran his tongue along the b.u.mpy ridge of her teeth. She lay there, limp, and he thought she was doing nothing more than absorbing peace of mind from his embrace and affection, but when he thrust his tongue into her mouth she met him.

He pressed harder, sealing their lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He climbed onto the mattress next to her.

The pillows lay above them, and the blankets lay below. Their feet banged the footboard. He'd done this all wrong, but he hadn't planned to do more than console her. He hadn't planned on his rush of desire or her ready response. He still wanted to console her, but with his touch on her cheek, his kiss on her breast...and when she pushed her wimple off, he perceived she wanted it, too.

He lifted each individual lock of hair to his lips, then arranged it around her face like rays of the sun. Quiescent, her eyes half-closed, she let him do what he would. Some men might have been offended. He himself might have remembered his long-dead wife and the way she had lain like a limp fish when he touched her. But with Alisoun, her very lack of motion was a confession. She'd ceded her power to him and trusted him to not abuse that power.

"So you like to talk to me." With his finger, he curled the short wisps of hair in front of her ears. "You think I enchant you when I tell you what I think."

She stretched, adjusting her shoulders. "You don't say the things other men say."

"Like?"

"The other n.o.blemen always talk about themselves and how strong they are and how they killed a boar with their bare hands." She blew a puff of air out and rolled her eyes. "Like I'd believe that."

Putting his fingers under her neck, he ma.s.saged the taut muscles. "They just want to impress you."

"Why? What makes a man think he can impress a woman by telling lies?"

"Some women aren't as discerning as you are."

"Some women pretend to believe."

He grinned and imagined the scene. A respected warrior, fabricating his strengths to impress the cool woman beside him. And the cool woman questioning him until he stumbled in his tale. No wonder she'd remained unmarried.

He looked down to see her staring at him. "You don't tell tales," she said.

He shrugged. "I haven't killed any boars with my bare hands lately." He trailed those hands down the front of her and loosened the laces that held her gown together.

As he widened the gap in her gown, his hands brushed against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, still covered by her shift. She shivered, and gooseb.u.mps tightened her skin. "I doubt you've wasted time on something so trivial. You were too busy-"

He cupped her and she took a big breath.

"You were too busy becoming the legendary Sir David."

Rubbing his thumbs over her nipples, he said, "Not much of a legend anymore."

She smiled. "Your lance strikes ever true."

He froze and searched her face for an explanation.

"What?" she asked. "What?"

"You made a jest."

"So?"

"A bawdy jest."

A spark of indignation made her stiffen. "I am not without humor!"

"Aye, it's been there all along." He slipped the gown over her shoulders and down, stripping it from her completely, and as he worked on divesting her of the rest of her clothing, he said, "But you do make me think I'm a wizard."

Sir David's face loomed above me where I slept on my pallet in the great hall, and his hand shook my shoulder. "Get up, Eudo. I need you."

It never crossed my mind to question his command. I stumbled to my feet, rubbing my eyes, and pulled my short cape over my clothes. I think he had to help me-no one wakes an eleven-year-old boy after a strenuous day without having to fight the lingering consequences of sleep.

The others in the great hall rolled away from us, but no one grumbled. Sir David had reestablished himself as a legend once again, and we all knew our safety depended on his experience.

The rush lights on the wall flickered eerily as he led me by the hand to the outer door, then we stepped outside into the darkest night I'd ever beheld. The cool air slapped me awake and Sir David asked, "Can you walk now?"

I nodded and stifled a yawn, and we moved toward the drawbridge. The men-at-arms challenged us before we even knocked, and Sir David mumbled, "Good. They're nervous."

His whispered instructions took only a moment, then two of the men-at-arms disappeared and the chains that held the drawbridge rattled. The sound carried through the still night like the clatter of a corpse's bones, and my skinny knees knocked in sudden alarm.

The drawbridge was never lowered at night, certainly not after an attack like the one that had occurred that day. But without hesitation, Sir David strode across the planks and I followed. I had no desire to leave the castle, but if I had to go, I wanted to keep nigh to my lord.

"Not so close, lad." Sir David craned his neck and looked at the starry sky. "Don't you want to know our destination?"

I did, but I didn't think I would like the reply.

"We're going to the churchyard." Sir David looked down at me and I thought I saw him grin, although his mouth was nothing more than a black hole in the dim glow of his face. "What do you think of that?"

I thought he was mad, but wisely kept my own council. Instead I tentatively suggested, "If you have need to pray, Sir David, there's a chapel in the keep."

"I don't want to pray. I want to visit the graves in the village church."

I crossed myself and with a boy's hysteria wondered why Sir David's eye sockets appeared empty.

Set on a rise above the village, the church stood apart from the other buildings, and the graveyard sloped off to the side toward the forest. I hoped in my deepest heart Sir David jested, and he would lead me somewhere, anywhere but there.

But nay, the damp gra.s.s beneath our feet made squeaking noises as we cut a straight line across the meadow.

Sir David seemed utterly at ease in the darkness, moving with the poise of a cat and speaking in a cheerful tone that eased a little of my paralyzing fear. "Are all of Lady Alisoun's family buried there?" he asked.

"Some of them. The older graves are there. The more recently dead were laid to rest within the church under the altar."

"Are the villagers still buried there?"

"Aye, sir, although not close to Lady Alisoun's family."

"The countess's family is set apart?"

I nodded, although I knew he couldn't see me. "By a fence, aye."

"So no one has been buried in the family plot for years?"

"No family has been buried there for years, but if a visitor is taken sick and dies, we bury them with honor in that place."

"Ahh." Sir David's exhale sounded like he'd had a revelation. "Has anyone died and been buried there recently?"

"Oh, nay. The last time anyone was buried there was clear last winter."

"That is a very long time ago," Sir David agreed. "Who was it?"

"My lady's friend and her babe came to visit, but they sickened and died within two days."

"Who was this lady?"

"The d.u.c.h.ess of Framlingford."

Sir David stumbled and almost went down.

I grabbed for him. "Are you ill, sir?"

His hand found my shoulder, and he pressed it. "Afraid you'll be left alone out here?"

I saw no reason to lie. "Aye, sir."

"The moon is rising. See?" Sir David pointed toward the eastern horizon, and indeed, I saw a white glow on the mountain tops. "You could find your way back, even by yourself, but to tell you the truth, I doubt anyone is mad enough to come out so late."

"Except maybe the man who hurt Sir Walter and tried to hurt my lady." My low voice wavered abominably, but Sir David heard.

"So you think he's mad, too?"

"I hope so, sir," I said fervently. "I hope he's obviously raving mad, for I don't want to think he's someone who walks among us undetected."

"Well said." Sir David didn't offer any rea.s.surance, however.

I noted that, and started walking close on his heels again.

"Tell me what happened with the d.u.c.h.ess of Framlingford."

I searched my memory. I hadn't really paid much attention, and at that time in my life, the previous winter seemed eons ago. "The d.u.c.h.ess was a friend of my lady's, I recollect, and apparently had come for a visit to Beckon. That's one of my lady's other castles."

"Why?"

"I don't know, sir."

"I thought you might have heard gossip."

"There's not much gossip about my lady. Never before has she given us anything to gossip about."

"Before me, you mean."

I knew better than to answer that, but Sir David didn't seem to require a reply.