Once Upon a Historical Christmas, page 9
“There were a lot.”
“I am obviously a dangerous fellow, to have been given a tower cell rather than a chamber in the keep.”
She crossed to the chair and sat, smoothing her skirt with an elegance born of refined breeding. “I would not call this a cell. You appear to have all the comforts of the room in which I am staying.”
With an irritated grunt, Holden crossed his arms, wincing as his fingers touched his bruises. “Are there guards outside your room?”
“Nay.”
“Were you warned not to leave your chamber?”
She shook her head.
“As I said, I am a dangerous fellow.”
A faint smile curved her lips—a perfectly-formed mouth that looked made for kissing. Not that that would ever happen between him and her. Startled by the unexpected thought, Holden forced himself to concentrate on what she was saying.
“—so you can hardly blame Edouard and the others for thinking such, after the manner in which you confronted me and Claire.”
Whatever words he’d missed, Holden was not going to let on that his mind had wandered to kissing her. “I was only doing my duty to protect Norwin, as I explained.”
“Why did you threaten us with your sword? Did Claire and I appear to be such a menace to the babe?”
He tried very hard not to chuckle. They’d been as menacing as newborn lambs. He could easily have taken their knives from them, if he’d so desired—and if he’d been steady on his feet and sharp of mind. “Mayhap I did not need the sword. I apologize for holding it to your back. I had just fought four mercenaries and had no idea if you were working with them.”
She nodded, thankfully accepting his apology, but her gaze dropped to her hands in her lap. “It can be difficult to know who to trust.”
He sensed she was speaking of more than the encounter in the forest. Guilt pricked his conscience. Damnation, but he didn’t want their first conversation in years to end up in discord over what had happened when they were younger. He also didn’t like to think that mayhap someone else had hurt her. “How are you?” he asked, gentling his tone. “Are you well? Have you been so in the years since we last saw each another?”
She bit down on her bottom lip before nodding.
“Your parents?”
“Both dead now. Father passed on a few years ago.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” ’Twas the polite thing to say, even though he’d never met her mother, and her sire had been a right bastard. “I had heard you were living at Wode, a ward of Lord and Lady Brackendale.” Holden had sent a letter to her at the castle, but had never received a reply; he’d always wondered whether the missive had reached her or not.
“I am still living at Wode.” Mary fidgeted. “Lord Brackendale died last winter, but I stayed on as a ward to help her ladyship in whatever ways I can. She is like a mother to me.”
“Ah. Well, she must be missing you, since you are here for Christmas.”
“She always spends the holidays with her loved ones, so she is here too. This morning, she traveled to the town market with the de Lanceaus and several friends.”
“Imagine if you had gone with them, instead of venturing into the forest?” Holden winked. “We might never have run into one another again.”
Her face turning pink, she looked down at her hands again. “Not true. We might have met at a feast, tournament, or some other gathering.”
He hadn’t expected her to blush. Aye, she was shy…but mayhap she had feelings for him? Questions crowded into his mind, but he cautioned himself not to bombard her with too many. He must work on earning her trust.
Having met her again, he also couldn’t let Christmas come and go without finally accomplishing what he’d tried to do long ago: make things right with her.
As Mary pushed wisps of hair back behind her hair and glanced over at the table, he studied her profile: high cheekbones, gracefully sloped nose; generous mouth. His heart acknowledged there was another reason, too, beyond repairing the past. He wanted her, as he had years ago. Wanted to learn what made her laugh, brought her joy, made her feel complete. If there was a chance—any chance at all—of winning her love, he must chase it.
She wasn’t wearing an engagement ring, but that didn’t mean he could court her. “If I may ask…?” he said.
Unease touched her features. “That depends what you want to know.”
“Did you ever become betrothed to what’s-his-name?”
“Lord Rowell’s son? Nay. He wed someone else. I do not think he and I would have suited, anyway.”
Hope kindled within Holden. He shouldn’t ask, but he had to. “No lord, then, has yet claimed you for his own?”
***
A gasp lodged in Mary’s throat. What a bold question.
A little voice inside her insisted Claire wouldn’t let him get away with such boldness. Nor should she.
“Why do you care to know?” How proud she was that her voice wavered only a little.
He shrugged; the linen of his shirt rasped against the mortared stone behind him. “Just curious.”
A note in his voice suggested there was more to his inquiry than curiosity. Humiliation and hurt tangled up inside her, for she was all too aware that most of her friends were betrothed or married, while she didn’t even have a suitor. While she’d been courted, none of those lords had ended up being men she wanted to wed. None had intrigued her the way Holden had.
Even now, God help her, she found him compelling.
Holden’s steady, unwavering focus remained on her. He clearly expected an answer.
Be brave, like Claire.
“With respect,” Mary said, “I have already answered quite a few of your questions.”
“Not that one.”
“Are you betrothed?”
Holden grinned, a lazy uptick of his mouth then shook his head. He winced, as though the movement had caused him pain.
“Why not? If I may ask.” Ha! Now that was showing bravery.
“You may ask. Truth be told, I married when I lived in France—”
Her heart froze.
“—but I wed for duty, not love. My wife died last autumn.”
“Did you have young ones?” she dared to ask.
He shook his head. “I also have not yet found a lady with whom I wish to spend the rest of my days.”
Astonishing. With his striking features and noble lineage, she’d have thought he’d be able to find another spouse with little effort.
“You seem surprised,” he said.
“A little. You are very handsome—”
His brows rose. “You think me very handsome?”
Oh.
Oh, dear.
The urge to run flared again, but fleeing would destroy any progress she’d made at being brave. Ignoring the fluttering of her pulse, she said matter-of-factly: “I do. Of course, I cannot speak for other ladies, who may feel quite differently about your appearance.”
“Of course.” He dragged his hand over his jaw, as though fighting a grin.
Had he just teased her? She frowned, determined not to lose courage. “While finding a husband has been important to me, other commitments have also demanded my attention.”
“Ah. Such as? If I may ask?”
Aye, he was definitely teasing her. But, he could only fluster her if she allowed him to do so. Relaxing the clasp of her fingers a bit, she said, “You have no doubt heard of Tye’s siege of Wode last January, which led to a battle and eventually, reconciliation with his father.”
Holden nodded. “I have heard the chansons.”
“I was at Wode when Tye attacked. I became his hostage, along with Claire.”
Shock etched Holden’s features. “Did you, now?”
Pride stirred within her. “I even had a pivotal role.”
“You did? Do tell.”
She smiled, for ’twas thrilling to see Holden so enthralled. “I had to swoon at a critical moment, to provide a distraction.”
“Did it work?”
Her belly clenched. “Not as well as we had anticipated. But, all resolved in the end.”
“You must have been terrified.”
“I was, but—”
“You could have been killed.” He’d almost growled the words.
“Mayhap,” she agreed, “but I also knew others’ lives depended upon me.”
After a silence, in which his expression revealed both concern and dismay, he nodded once and eased away from the wall to lean forward and rest his arms on his knees. “I do understand that sense of responsibility.”
“’Tis one that all knights of the realm bear, I vow, being protectors.”
He studied the worn planks beneath his feet. “When we fail in our duty—above all to those who have put their faith in us—’tis utter torment.”
A lump settled in her throat. “If you are referring to what happened in the forest—”
“I am. I failed to protect my nephew.”
“You did what you could.”
“If Norwin had been hurt….”
“But, he was not. He is safe.” When Holden’s pained gaze rose to meet hers, she smiled, hoping to offer reassurance. “I held him not long ago, after he had been fed. He was content and slept soundly.”
“Can I see him?”
“Well, I do not—”
“Please.” The raggedness of his voice revealed the torment of which he’d spoken. So did the anguish in his eyes.
A knock sounded on the door.
Holden exhaled a harsh breath. “Come in.”
Mary rose as the door opened, admitting a maidservant holding a mug.
“From the ’ealer,” the woman said. “She said ye’re ta drink it all at once.”
“All right.” Holden motioned for the woman to set the drink beside his saddlebag on the table.
“I should go,” Mary said; she’d been brave enough for one visit.
Holden stood. “Thank you for coming to see me, Mary. My nephew—?”
“I will see what I can do. But, I cannot make you any promises.”
A Knight's Redemption
Catherine Kean
Chapter Seven
Holden startled awake at the sound of knocking. He blinked to clear his vision while pushing up on his elbows.
He remembered drinking the infusion, feeling drowsy not long afterward, and then lying down on the cot. He’d shut his eyes as his headache had started to subside and must have fallen asleep.
The knock came again.
If only Edouard and Tye hadn’t confiscated his wooden comb when they’d taken his weapons. If he was about to meet his former liege, he’d like to look respectable.
“Enter,” Holden said. As the door opened, he sat up, raked a hand through his hair, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Mary walked in, holding Norwin, wrapped in a blanket Holden didn’t recognize. The baby, alert and sucking on his fingers, was definitely his nephew; Holden had looked for, and found, the mole on the boy’s chin, and his blue eyes were the same color as Holden’s and his sister’s.
Holden swallowed hard. How grateful he was that Mary had managed to win him a visit with Norwin. He must be sure and thank her—
The baby’s gaze found Holden’s. Norwin’s face crinkled into a chubby-cheeked grin that showed his two bottom teeth that had only recently broken through the gum.
“Look,” Mary whispered. “He recognizes you.”
“I should hope so,” Holden said, his tone gruff with joy. “I am his favorite uncle.”
“Then you must hold him now.” When Holden started to rise, she shook her head. “You are wounded. Stay sitting, and I will hand him to you.”
His masculine pride resisted, for he didn’t take orders from women. But, she was hardly commanding him in battle or in the presence of fellow warriors, and he did want to hold his nephew.
He sat, and she leaned down to give him the child. A honeyed scent wafted from her, one that reminded him of sweet, ripe fruit. He longed to shut his eyes and drown in the fragrance of her. But, as she bent over, and her gown’s bodice gaped a little, he caught a tantalizing glimpse of creamy skin and shadowy cleavage.
Desire flared. His mind went blank.
Thankfully, he quickly regained control of his senses. As Norwin’s weight settled into the crook of Holden’s left arm, and he tucked in the edges of the blanket, the lad burbled up at him.
Holden grinned. “Good afternoon to you, too, Norwin.”
Mary perched on the edge of the nearest chair. “He has the sweetest smile.”
“He does indeed.” Holden rubbed noses with the baby, whose smile broadened. “He is going to be a charmer when he grows up. No woman will be able to resist him.”
“No woman can resist him now. The maidservant who fed him did not want to hand him over to me. She is completely smitten. So is Claire, even though she has a babe of her own.”
Envy threaded through Mary’s words. As Norwin caught hold of Holden’s index finger and hung on, Holden said, “You want children, then.”
She made an indignant sound. “Once again, you are bold.”
“Most women do want young ones. I will just assume you do.”
Her mouth gaped. “Did no one ever warn you ’tis foolish—and potentially disastrous—to make assumptions?”
She appeared so indignant, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “As soon as you stepped into the room, I knew how you would answer.”
Surprise, but also interest, lit her gaze. “What do you mean?”
He gently rubbed his thumb against Norwin’s small, pudgy hand. “Your face was glowing. Your expression told me that you enjoyed holding my nephew, that it fulfilled you somehow. ’Twas not difficult to guess that one day, you would like to be holding your own son or daughter.”
“One day, mayhap. I must fall in love and wed first, before I think about bearing children.”
A practical answer, but filled with longing. “Is that the wish you will make this Christmas? To find true love and marry?”
She shook her head. “I do not believe in Christmas wishes.”
A pang of sympathy wove through him, for he sensed that once, she’d had faith in such things. Had she given up on marriage and a family? Surely not. She was young, comely—
“I am very happy for Claire that she found happiness with Tye,” Mary said. “Seeing them and Isolde together…. They make a perfect little family.”
Perfect. ’Twas how Holden felt about being an uncle to Norwin. If being a father was even half as humbling and wonderful, he’d be happy for the rest of his days.
“Judging by your expression,” Mary murmured, “you also want children of your own.”
“I do.” Difficult memories brushed his thoughts, while he kissed Norwin’s fingers. “I have wanted them since I was young.” When Mary remained silent, he added quietly: “My mother died giving birth when I was seven years old. The babe, a boy, lived for a few days. I had promised my mother I would protect him, and I did. I went without sleep, holding and rocking him while he wailed, but he was born too soon. He did not survive.”
“I am sorry,” Mary whispered.
Silence settled, while the fire snapped in the hearth. For some reason, his thoughts slipped back through the years to the winter afternoon when he’d rushed into the fire. His protective instincts had spurred him to rescue Anna, and those same instincts had determined his actions on the road earlier today. If he were presented with the same circumstances again, he’d made the same choices, without hesitation.
“Until the day I die, I will do all that I can to protect children,” Holden said. “Above all, those who are my family.”
***
Oh, mercy, but she wanted to weep.
Holden’s revelation about his baby brother had touched her deeply. For so many years, it had been easiest for her to be selfish, to hold tight to her anguish, to remember Holden as an arrogant, insensitive knave, rather than a hero who’d braved an inferno to rescue an infant. And yet, his story about his younger brother further proved he had a champion’s heart.
She longed to rise and go sit beside him on the cot; to show support for what he’d said and done. Her stomach knotted, though, at the thought of being so close to him. ’Twould take tremendous courage. More, mayhap, than she had within her this day.
“You have gone quiet,” Holden said.
She nodded, still struggling with indecision.
“Did my words offend you?”
“Nay. Quite the opposite. I just….”
“Mmm?”
“Well, I…never expected you to share such a personal circumstance with me.”
“To be honest, I never expected to, either.”
While she mulled that surprising admission, Holden carefully laid Norwin lengthwise on his legs. The baby now faced him, with his head resting on Holden’s knees. After catching hold of Norwin’s hands, Holden bounced his legs up and down, jostling the infant. The child beamed and giggled.
“He loves that,” Mary murmured.
“’Tis my role, as his favorite uncle, to teach him about riding a horse.”
Mary laughed. “He needs to grow up a bit first. He cannot even crawl.”
“Aye, but he is going to be a big, strong knight one day. He will benefit from starting his training early.” Holden continued to bounce the infant. “Our destrier is at a walk now. We are going over the castle drawbridge and onto the main road, for we are going on an important quest for our liege.”
Oh, goodness, but Holden was silly…and thoroughly charming. “You will take forever to complete your quest at a walk,” Mary noted.
“True. We shall spur our mount to a canter.” He jounced the child a little harder. Norwin burbled in delight. Then Holden gasped. “Enemies! We are being attacked.” His legs quickened in their bouncing, as though he’d urged the horse to a gallop.
Eyes bright with excitement, Norwin squealed.
“You are just going to run away?” Mary feigned surprise. “Surely, if you are bold knights of the realm, you should draw weapons and vanquish your foes?”
