How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel Read online

  “He’s not beat you?” Frowning, he touched her purple jaw.

  She winced and grabbed her ledgers from the basket hanging on the saddle. “That was just an accident before the wedding. I haven’t given him a chance to hurt me.”

  “But we met the new lord yesterday. He seemed like a fine man. Good lineage and stout heart.” He sent her a look and tone that challenged.

  “You met him?” Not fair. She was going to warn her people before the knight had a chance to worm into their good graces. She pouted. No one should like The Beast.

  “Aye, we shared a glass of mead and spoke of the business of the mill. He stayed for, but a few minutes. Said he was anxious to get home to you.” He winked and put her horse under the roof of the mill.

  “Now, come in out of the weather. It’s about to downpour. Then we can talk about flour and grain and coin. My favorite subjects and yours.”

  At the end of the day, Marcus eased into the warmth of the pool.

  Soon after, Thomas ascended a few steps and stripped. “Where have you been all day? I almost struck your squire when I saw him wearing your colors. I thought ill-fortune had come to you.”

  “Glad you didn’t kill the lad. I’ve grown fond of him.” He stretched and wet his head under the water. “If you need to know, I’ve spent the whole day following my wife.”

  “Really? I thought she was locked and guarded in her room. Saints help us, tell me. Is she actually a witch?” He covered his naked breast like a maid and immersed himself fully.

  “Very amusing. And no. She has some kind of tunnel out of her chambers that leads into the baths.”

  Beads of moisture clung to his beard as he popped up with a grin. “How convenient for her. Bloody miracle. Warm water.”

  Marcus grabbed a fistful of scented powder from a clay pot and scrubbed his scalp. “Aye. It is. Where are the fires that heat it?”

  “Below us. There’s a man whose job is to throw peat into a pit. The fires heat the rocks. And I believe, if he stokes it high enough, it’ll heat a chamber under the great room and the heat will rise through holes in the floor. In the winter, it warms the whole of the manor.”

  “Ingenious Romans.” He ducked, rinsed, and handed the pot to Thomas.

  “Agreed.”

  Two other villagers came into the baths and settled at a lower pool; he kept his conversation at a near whisper. “So, tell me, where was your little gypsy today? Did you have to skewer a lover?”

  “By God, that’s what I thought when I rode after her, following the morning mass. Dressed as a boy, she was, with that mess of black hair under a cap. She mounted her pony with her legs bare to her thighs, sprite as a wood nymph.” He hardened at the memory. A man should not have to ache for his wife.

  “Get ahold of yourself. So who was she going to meet? Where’s his head? Or at least tell me you removed his family jewels.” Thomas laughed and splashed.

  He splashed back, only more so, until the battle was won. Only then did he lean back and reach his toes to the smooth tiled edge, liking how it contrasted with the rough cement. “The old miller. The one we met yesterday.”

  “Say it’s not so. He’s a happily wed old man.”

  “‘Twas the oddest thing to see. She had a large ledger of parchment under one arm and an abacus under the other. Definitely not a tryst.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “She was accounting?”

  “Aye, I saw it all, hiding from a copse of trees. And understand this well. When she bid farewell to the miller and his family, they were all smiling.”

  “She collected her taxes, mayhap some rent, and the man was smiling? I don’t believe you.” He scrubbed and rinsed.

  Cooled water trickled out on a lower side of the bath to be replaced by warm coming from an upper ledge, closer to the fires. “It’s all true. Then his family all embraced her. She rode out into the rain and did it again and again. First at a beehive type of dwelling, then at a shepherd’s home. She should be doing needlework, sitting on my lap by a warm hearth, not collecting taxes in a downpour.”

  “So why didn’t you stop her?” He finished washing, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared.

  “By God, I wish I knew. By the end of the day, she almost nodded off on the horse in exhaustion. I didn’t do a thing but follow. I was curious, I suppose, and not sure I wanted to give myself away. What in Hades is wrong with me?” He squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it, I am undone by her.

  “Don’t worry. You’ve always been one to study the lay of the land before jumping into battle. That’s probably all this is.”

  “Mayhap so. I followed her home at a distance, even though I wanted to pull the wench to my chest and cover her with my cloak. I actually care that she was wet and miserable. I do. Even though this is all her own doing. After she handed her horse to the stable-boy, I did the same but stayed out of her sight.”

  “A fascinating story, I must say. My day can’t hold a candle to it.” He smirked.

  Marcus looked around as if she might be in hiding, then eased out of the warm water and shivered. “By the time I entered the bathhouse, there was no sign of her; although I’m sure she entered here. It matters not. I’ll find her tomorrow. Tell me, is another fine meal scheduled for this evening?”

  “Aye. Even better, if the smells wafting out of the kitchen are any indication. You would join us again as lord of the manor?”

  “Of course, of course, though I’m a bit worried. Sodden, she was, and tired. A day like today could turn a chill into a deathly fever.”

  “You worry like an old nanny goat. Come. Join us in some merriment. After that, go to your wife. For God’s sake, take her.” He rose and shook until water sprayed in all directions. “Damn. We need more bath cloth out here.”

  “I disagree. You seem to handle drying like a hound without any problem. Always figured you were part wolf.”

  “Ha. The Wolf and The Beast are well met.” Thomas gave him a hearty shove, without warning, and he toppled back into the water. In retribution, Marcus grabbed an ankle and caused him to do the same. After a heated battle, they both needed to surrender or drown.

  Laughing heartily and gasping, Marcus said, “I tell you though, if there were a beast in me, he’d wear thin with her games.”

  “Has she opened her door yet for you?” He spread his legs in a lewd gesture and ducked into a clean tunic left by his squire.

  “Nay, but I’m getting closer.”

  “God’s blood, then. Take what you need from the chit. Your self-restraint is exhausting me. Let’s find the meal. The men have already gathered and beautiful maidens wait to serve us.”

  “Fine. Call Bart for me. Where is he? I need my blasted tunic back.”

  Hours later, he bid a final goodnight to his men. The fire in the great hearth had burned down to embers. Several men snoozed around it; others talked quietly. And yet many had retired to their pallets in the knights’ quarters. He mounted the staircase with eager anticipation. In one hand, he carried a plate of food, in the other a candle. He opened the door to his room, set the candle down upon a dresser, and approached the slit in their common wall. Whereas he had enjoyed a warm bath and fine meal, she was no doubt damp and hungry. The soreness in his heart might possibly have been a bit of guilt.

  “Are you hungry?” He flattened a roll between his hands and passed it through the slit.

  Straw rustled as she lifted off her pallet and bare feet pattered across the floor. “I’m starving myself. Remember?”

  “Take the bread. Mayhap you can start starving again, tomorrow.”

  She did as told and heaved a heavy sigh. Like feeding a caged animal, he slid meat and cheese through the slit. “More?”

  “Is there more?”

  He chuckled. “Aye, reach your hand through and I’ll put some figs in it for you.”

  When she reached, he took her hand, put her soft flesh to his face and held it to his lips. “Lady.” It came out of him sounding like a holy word
. His tongue circled the flesh between her fingers and she groaned.

  “You take liberties.” She didn’t pull back her digits. If anything, she pushed them further toward him.

  He wrapped both of his hands around hers. “Your hand is as cold as snow. Didn’t you light a fire in your room?” Damn the woman. Even if he managed to keep her fed, she’d die from the chill.

  “No, my door has been locked and the fire has gone out, but your tongue is doing a fine job.”

  Groaning, he let go. “Open the door. I can’t warm you well enough in this manner. Why have you not started your fire?”

  “My fingers are a bit stiff and I’ve no peat.” She must’ve turned from him to stare at the useless hearth for he had to strain to hear her voice.

  This godforsaken slit in the wall was chafing his patience. “I’ll have Bart fetch your maid. You could catch your death. Do you still remain in wet clothes?”

  “How did you know I got wet?” Her minty breath surprised him again at the wall.

  “I was in my room and I saw you get on your horse. When I went down to find you, you had disappeared. Where did you go, m’lady? How did you get out?”

  “Your man let me out so I could go to confession and prayer,” the little liar said. “Then I went for a short ride to clear my head.”

  He sighed. At least he didn’t have to admit he’d followed her all day. “I’d come in and help you with your fire. I’d warm your whole body as I’ve warmed your hand if you’d, but let me.”

  “Mayhap just a fire, for now. I feel safer with the wall between us.”

  “We will talk more, I promise. First, open your door for my servant. I give you my word, as a knight, I’ll stay here in my room. No harm will come to you.”

  “I must admit, some warmth would be a great comfort.”

  He opened his chamber door and called out, “Bart.”

  “Aye, m’lord. I’m right here.” He stood red-faced while Sally sat nearby, looking flushed and well-kissed. He’d need to take the boy aside before things went too far.

  “Help Sally bring up some warm furs. Lady Ann will open her door. Make sure she has plenty of fuel for her fire.”

  Bart grinned and winked at the maid. “We’ll have everything upstairs in just a moment.”

  Marcus paced across the floor and called into the slit. “Sally is coming.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Dammit. You don’t need to be a prisoner. I’d have normal relations with you.”

  “Can you promise you don’t need to hang me, on your word as a knight?”

  “Did you kill your first husband?”

  “Thank you for your kindness in seeing to my comfort,” she said in a cool tone and moved away from the wall.

  Damn his oath to Edward and the one to his father as well. Damn honesty. Damn chivalry. He slammed his fist onto a small table, smashing it to the floor. He’d need stronger furniture or a better temperament very soon. How the hell was he ever going to get her to open up?

  He heard tromping up the stairs, giggling, and knocking on wood. Of course, she opened the door to them.

  “Move along,” said Sally. “Our lady is all, but frozen solid. Poor dear. We’re hurrying, truly we are. The peat is damp and hard to light. There. I’ve got it. You go on so I can help her undress.”

  His squire grumbled something about bossy women and when Marcus opened his door, the good lad had stationed himself in the hall.

  Back at the slit, the two women spoke quietly in front of the hearth with their backs to him. It wasn’t long before the wooden bolt slid across the oak door and then silence.

  “Lady?”

  There was no response.

  How long could he survive with a rock-hard rod? He tossed and turned for what seemed like an eternity until finally he slept, dreaming of his dark-haired beauty.

  Chapter 5

  Marcus was up and comfortably saddled before dawn the next day. When his wife appeared from out of the bathhouse, the sun had not yet appeared, but a soft yellow light had spread across the sky.

  “Not a word from you.” He eyed Charles with suspicion. The stable lad responded with a wide-eyed nod, just as she ran across the green and into the church.

  “I’ll be right back. Keep Midnight in readiness.” He dismounted and gave his disappointed horse a pat on the rump. Entering the stone abbey by the back door, he was surprised to land in the monk’s quarters. The sparse room held a table, a clay lamp, two pallets, a hearth, and some furs. James, kneeling quietly in prayer, stood slowly, frowned, and regarded him with a furrowed brow.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’d like to join the mass unseen.” Marcus held palms open and up.

  “What’re you up to, Blackwell? I’m not sure we’re on the same side. Lady Ann has been like a daughter to me and the manner of your wedding pleased me not.”

  “Truly?” He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve yet to even enter relations with her. I’m the one who should be affronted. She’s the one who’s dressed as a lad, running about like a wild hellcat. I’m merely watching out for her safety. How does the church allow it?”

  James regarded him for a moment more and gave a quick nod. He led him down a narrow stone hallway to a pew set up behind the altar and out of view of the congregation. “Blessings upon you, my son. And good luck.”

  No doubt the small hole in the altar had been made for the same reason he was using it. Lady Ann was seated in the back pew with her head in her hands, deep in prayer. He relaxed and let young Brother John’s litany of prayers roll over him.

  Had he really been gone from the church so long that he’d forgotten the words? While away, he’d received communion as was available. Even when he attended mass, however, his mind was elsewhere, such as staying alive for another day.

  He started a count of the number of times forgiveness was mentioned during the service. In the quiet, he found a moment for a rare prayer and hoped that God visited this church and was listening. Please, if you’ve any fondness left for me, Lord, don’t make me have to hang her.

  After mass was finished and breakfast needs attended to, Lady Ann headed back to the stable while he followed at a safe distance.

  That evening, he didn’t even bother to keep up the pretext of dining with his people. “Would you head the table for me?”

  Eyeing one of the young ladies in Ann’s tutelage, Thomas answered for once without wit. “I will if you see to it that the lady over there joins me.” He pointed out a maiden with long blond tresses, hid only by a thin veil.

  “She’s a bit young, isn’t she?” Marcus motioned her forward with a wave of the hand.

  “Unlike you, I’m a bit more of a traditionalist. I prefer not to have to retrain them.” He snickered and all, but drooled as she crossed the floor.

  She lowered her gaze and curtsied. “What can I get you, m’lords?”

  “Fill this plate for the Lady Ann and return back to me, promptly. What’s your name?”

  “Lady Meredith.” She curtsied as a noble-born, dashed off to the kitchen, and returned with a full plate of food.

  “Thank you. Sit here with my man, if you would be so kind. I feel the need to retire early and the table needs a mistress.”

  The blond beauty turned a deep shade of red while Thomas grinned and mouthed, “I owe you.”

  “Think nothing of it. I hope your wooing goes better than mine.” He turned to leave, but said as an afterthought, “She’s young, under my roof and my care. If you bed her, you best marry her.”

  “Aye. I understand the rules with this one.”

  He watched them make dove-eyes at each other for a moment. Then, from the hands of cupid, a pang of jealousy struck him. Enough. Shaking his head at his own fate, he trudged up the staircase. Long ago, he’d learned there was no point in wishing; better to concentrate on what lie in front for the taking. He tapped on the oak door. “I see you’ve had another busy day.”

  Her voice came out muffled.r />
  “Speak louder.”

  His wife uttered a colorful oath under her breath and yelled back, “What say you?”

  Uttering his own oath, he moved into his chambers and spoke into the slit at a more normal volume. “I saw you bring a book to the blacksmith. What was it?”

  She came closer and her breath warmed the hole. “It was a mechanism book, with drawings on how to build another mill. Wouldn’t that be grand? What wonders of the world there are in books. I just wish I had more.” A long pause ensued. “Oh dear, I apologize. I don’t suppose you read?”

  “I read Latin, English, French, Italian, and several versions of Aramaic,” he said with some pride. Let her chew on that for a moment.

  “My goodness. Had I, but known. I’d have shown the book to you first. Of course, if I had opened my door … I mean … Well, damn it. Do you know how to build mechanisms or not?”

  He chuckled. “I’ve been known to build some.” Most were war machines, but she didn’t need to know that. What a fascinating creature with a remarkable mind. He’d never known a woman to be so inquisitive about everything.

  “How wonderful. I can’t wait to show you some of my findings. Eventually.”

  His pulse raced. It’d been a long time since someone had admired him for more than his prowess with a sword. “I’d love to sit with you by the fire and hear you speak of anything at all.”

  The lady’s sweet breath bathed his face with a minty fragrance. “Really?”

  His throat dried and his pintle swelled under his tunic. “Aye.”

  “Then why didn’t you just take me, today, instead of follow me? You could have insisted on your, ah, husbandry rights.”

  Damn. Her tone sounded wishful. If he’d only known. “I’d rather you come willingly into my pallet. I’ve had enough of wars. I’d have peace with you.”

  She put her hand through the slit and he drew it across the rough stubble of his face. Kissing her palm, he trapped her with his lips. Was his headstrong wife ready to recant?

  “What is it that holds you back?” He held his breath. Would they join as one tonight?