King's Knight (Medieval Warriors Book 4) Page 10

  His enticing opponent inhaled deeply and let out a breath as she took her bottom lip between her teeth and considered the board. The swells of her breasts pressed against the edge of her velvet gown. He tried to keep his mind on the game ahead but, in truth, her presence was distracting. Merewyn was far more interesting than any game of chess.

  Glancing at the black pieces on his side of the board, he moved one of his pawns forward. As he had been taught, it mattered not which color began the game. “I will move first. That way, you will have time to think.”

  She looked down at the board and brought her elbow to the table, her fingers playing about her delicate alabaster throat. Turning her unusual blue eyes on him, she said, “I expected you to make the first move, but I do not need time to think, not yet anyway.”

  Her slender fingers wrapped around a pawn and caressed it before moving the piece forward.

  His mouth watered. When he looked up, beneath her long lashes she watched him. His mind strayed to the afternoon he had wandered into her chamber drunk and encountered those same seductive eyes, then filled with anger. He blinked and forced himself to focus on the game. Mayhap he needed a knight. He moved the piece, carved and painted to look like a black knight, forward two squares and to the left.

  He was feeling quite confident until Merewyn licked her lush bottom lip while studying the board. His groin swelled in response and he shifted on the bench, thankful his tunic covered his reaction. He was certain her seductive movements were innocent, but she could not have made him want her more had she set out to do so.

  Merewyn glanced up once before moving her white knight forward.

  His mind wandered, seeing again her thighs clenching the sides of her pony as she galloped by the targets, rapidly loosing arrows with deadly accuracy. Dragging his mind back to the game, he straightened in his seat and moved his bishop across from her knight. Satisfied with the move, he folded his arms and waited for her next move.

  The game continued with both of them making careful moves, Merewyn surprising Alex with her skill. He had known she was intelligent, but the way she played chess told him she could be clever, as well.

  Shifting on her bench, Merewyn appeared to carefully consider her next move. One of her long fingers played with a strand of flaxen hair lying across her shoulder. The strands caught the light from the candles turning them into liquid gold. His fingers itched to touch the silken strands.

  Two more pawn moves and he captured her knight, thinking he had her. But then his eyes fastened on her hand moving to the delicate skin of her throat.

  After what seemed but a moment’s passing, Merewyn looked up and smiled. “Checkmate.”

  * * *

  Thrilled she had won but reluctant to act too much the victor, Merewyn offered Alex another smile. “Fortune was with me.” When she had spoken the word that proclaimed her the winner, Alex had looked startled, as if waking from a dream. With him watching her, it had taken all the concentration she could muster to maintain any strategy at all. Unsure she could do it, her hope had risen when he continued to appear distracted. Mayhap he had been tired of the game having played several rounds.

  “You may have had fortune on your side,” he said, “but you also displayed a fair amount of talent. Rhodri might have been a good teacher, but you must have been a keen disciple.” He dipped his head to her. “Well done, my lady.”

  She thanked him. Because Alex’s praise meant much, she resisted the urge to correct him for calling her a lady when she clearly was not.

  Countess Ermentrude stood and gave a small cheer; Lady Serena nodded her head, smiling.

  Rory and Guy left the other game and came to congratulate her and tease Alex. “Felled by the fair damsel!” proclaimed Guy with glee.

  “We dare not tell the king of your loss to a lass,” chimed in Rory with feigned terror.

  Alex grinned at Merewyn. “We will see who wins the next game.”

  Pleased she had won, Merewyn did not think Alex minded the jests he endured from his fellow knights. Mayhap he would win the next game as the gleam in his eye portended.

  Talisand’s lord, having defeated Earl Hugh, rose from his bench. Joined by Lady Serena, he proposed a toast. “To the talented ladies!”

  Everyone raised their goblets. Countess Ermentrude downed her wine and proudly said, “I love to see a bold knight vanquished at chess by a lady. ’Tis one of the few battlefields where we can be the victor.”

  Earl Hugh hastened to give his opinion. “ ’Tis best it is so.”

  Lady Serena rolled her eyes and clinked her goblet against Ermentrude’s, the two exchanging a grin.

  “We had best retire,” said Alex’s father. “The bells toll Compline and our next stop is Shrewsbury. Beyond that, a long road awaits us to London.”

  Merewyn did not disagree and, with the others, ascended the stairs to her chamber, thinking of a rematch with Alex. She was not being very true to her plan to keep distance between them. In truth, she relished any chance to be with him, even if it meant losing a game of chess.

  As it turned out, their stop in Shrewsbury was brief, but she got to see Alex’s brother, Roger, who she had not seen since she left Talisand for Wales. His chestnut hair, the same color as his father’s, made him look much like the Red Wolf, save for his brown eyes.

  Their host, the old earl, Roger de Montgomerie, had begged his friend, Earl Renaud, for time to show them the Benedictine Abbey he had founded. Merewyn was glad Earl Roger prevailed.

  Talisand had a beautiful stone chapel built by Lady Serena’s father, but it paled in comparison to the church at Shrewsbury. At least four times larger, the abbey church dedicated to Saint Peter had massive rounded stone arches the chapel in Talisand lacked. A long walk on a gray stone floor led to the magnificent nave with tall windows that allowed light to flood the church.

  “ ’Tis another Norman cathedral that replaced a Saxon church,” remarked Lady Serena, “but this one is beautiful.”

  When Merewyn told Alex it was not like any she had ever seen, he was quick to reply. “Westminster Abbey in London is even more magnificent. ’Tis much larger and grander than this one. The Conqueror himself was crowned there as was his son.”

  CHAPTER 6

  A foreboding like a black cloud hovered over Alex as they entered London, riding down the Strand toward the palace. It had naught to do with the dark sky above threatening rain, the foul-smelling mud splashing onto Azor’s withers, or the dirty, narrow streets with their buildings pressed closely together.

  The cause of it, he knew, was the king.

  With his notorious temper and his strange proclivities, many knights disdained the royal court. In private he could be easy, tossing off jests as one given to frivolity, however, in public and when angry, he was given to fits of temper accompanied by stuttering. At times, William was barely able to converse. Then he would turn savagely cruel, seeking to intimidate those around him. Only on the battlefield could William Rufus be counted upon to act the leader of men like his father, appreciating boldness in others.

  With Alex, the king had been generous. But what would he be with Merewyn?

  If he could, Alex would spare her and his mother the evenings at court. But since they had come to London, their presence at court would be expected. While his father, who had attended the king before, would find little surprising, the women would be shocked at what they might see. For Merewyn, there was also danger. And not just from the king. Ranulf, the king’s priest and advisor, ruthlessly pursued any beautiful woman he desired. Against both Alex vowed to guard her well.

  Their party numbered more than a dozen since Earl Hugh and a few of his men had joined them in Chester. Alex was always amazed the earl could still sit a horse since he had grown corpulent, not unlike the Conqueror in the years before his death.

  Alex remembered those years and the hectic days that followed the king’s deathbed confession in Normandy. Once William Rufus learned he was to have England, he had made haste
to cross the Channel and claim the crown, taking Alex with him. Upon their arrival, the new king had knighted Alex, then only eighteen.

  The hooves of their horses splashed dirty water from the muddy puddles as they headed toward the River Thames.

  “Our house should be ready to receive us,” he said to his father, riding next to him. “I asked the king’s messenger who came to Talisand to assure it was so when he reached London.”

  Talisand’s lord raised a brow. “The king’s messenger does your bidding?”

  Alex smiled to himself as he remembered why the man had so quickly agreed, for Alex had once defended him before the king. “He owed me a favor.”

  His father’s expression was assessing. Alex knew him well enough he did not fear him like he had once feared Earl Hugh, but it was still true that the knight called the Red Wolf could terrify weaker men with just a look. “ ’Tis well and good our lodgings are ready. I would not want to try and find rooms at the king’s palace.”

  “Aye, ’twill be crowded,” said Alex.

  Nearly twenty thousand people lived in London now and, with William summoning his army, Alex expected the numbers to swell as knights, men-at-arms and seamen poured into the city. Taverns would be overflowing with men and fights among them would be a common occurrence. Already the streets were filled with more people than when he had left.

  From the other side of his father, Earl Hugh spoke. “As I am oft here, I have long maintained a house not far from the palace.”

  Alex turned in his saddle to look at Merewyn, riding alongside his mother. Both women appeared tired, their shoulders drooping like plucked flowers left in the sun. The air was thick with moisture, draining strength, making him glad he wore no mail. “We will soon be there,” he encouraged.

  At his words, Merewyn lifted her head and straightened her back.

  He smiled to himself and turned back to face the streets of London. Merewyn had fortitude. She would not allow him to see any weakness.

  A short while later, Earl Hugh and his men left them to head down a side street. The Talisand group continued on, arriving in front of the two-story manor that was their destination.

  Their London house was larger than the one at Talisand because, while it lacked a hall, it possessed a large dining chamber with a hearth. It had windows, now shuttered, on both sides looking out on the street and, from the second story at the rear of the house, one could see the River Thames.

  The manor’s door was nearly on the edge of the street. A narrow strip of stones ran along the front of the house, a feature shared by many of the homes on the Strand. The trees and flowers so abundant in Talisand were missing altogether making the house seem dour in its mood.

  Alex dismounted and handed Azor’s reins to the young groom who waited before the door. “Did you receive my message, Ric?”

  “Aye, sir, all is ready for his lordship. The stable boys will take the horses and see them fed.”

  “You have my thanks,” he told the groom. Glad things had gone well, Alex helped Merewyn down from her mare. He was enjoying having his hands on her waist. For more than a sennight, he’d been at the task. Ignoring the jests of his companions at the attention he paid her and the occasional puzzled looks from his mother, he was always there to assist Merewyn. She had never complained about the long days yet he knew she was often weary. Each time he had helped her from her horse, she thanked him even as her sweet smell filled his nostrils, driving him half-mad for want of her.

  Giles, the gray-haired steward who had served his father as long as Alex could remember, rushed out the door to greet them. “My lady, my lord, all is ready. The bath water is heating and a dinner of roast duck will soon be served.”

  “You have our thanks,” said his father. “We are tired from the road and all you suggest will be most welcome.” Draping his arm around Alex’s mother, the two followed the steward into the manor. Sir Geoffroi walked behind them with his son, Guy. Alex, Merewyn and Rory followed. The men-at-arms tramped around to the stable where they would lay their pallets for the night.

  Inside the house, drinks of spiced wine awaited them. Shedding their cloaks, they accepted the warm cups smelling of cloves and cinnamon, gratefully imbibing the sweet wine tasting of spices and honey. He was happy to see that the drink revived Merewyn. Like a flower given water and sun, she smiled, her cheeks reddening with the heady wine.

  Their eyes met over their cups and the room grew more heated. “So, what do you think of London?” he asked her.

  “I am overwhelmed. ’Tis even larger than Chester. And your home,” she said looking around, “is beautiful.”

  Their London house was more richly appointed than the manor at Talisand but Alex loved his home in the north and preferred it above this one.

  Nelda came down the stairs. “Your chamber is ready, my lady,” the maidservant said to her mistress.

  “Come, Merewyn,” said Alex’s mother, “let us have that bath Giles spoke of and shed these mud-stained garments for some clean gowns.”

  Alex’s gaze followed the two women as they ascended the stairs, then he joined the other men as they strolled into the main chamber.

  “It appears London has not changed,” said his father looking out the window to the street. He turned into the room and faced Sir Geoffroi. “I doubt you have missed it any more than I.”

  Guy’s father laughed. “Nay, I do not miss London. Nor do I miss York, or any other town. I prefer to remain on my lands near Talisand where Emma and I can live in peace. ’Tis enough to attend the barons’ meeting and give what advice the king will take. Our sons can ride to battle with their young king.”

  Alex shared a glance with his two companions. “If the king has his way, we will soon be on our way to Scotland.”

  “First we must endure the king’s court,” said Rory.

  “Aye,” said Alex. Raising a brow toward Guy, he said, “Best not to appear too prettily dressed, else your youth and that handsome face of yours might be confused with the king’s favored courtiers.”

  Guy looked affronted.

  Sir Geoffroi scowled.

  “That has not changed?” asked Alex’s father.

  “Nay,” said Alex. “If anything, ’twas worse after we returned from Normandy.”

  * * *

  Merewyn sighed with relief when she arrived at the chamber assigned to her. Her body ached from the long day’s ride. The room was dim; the only light was the narrow band spilling in around the edges of the closed shutters. She opened them wide, eager to view the surrounding area.

  The window faced east toward the river. On the far bank of the Thames stood a few buildings, but on either side of them the land appeared to be untamed marsh. Dark clouds hung low overhead, their brooding color turning the waters of the Thames a dull gray. A stench rose in her nostrils making her grimace. She could not tell if it was the river or something else. As they had ridden into London, the whole city seemed to smell of raw offal. She could not imagine a king living in such a place, but then Alex had told her William Rufus was not often here.

  Behind her, a knock sounded.

  “Enter.”

  Nelda peeked her head around the oak-paneled door, her blue-gray eyes scanning the chamber as her dark plait fell over her shoulder. “Can they bring the bathing water in now, mistress?”

  “Aye, of course. And ’tis your chamber, too, Nelda. Lady Serena told me we were to share.”

  “Do not be concerned with me,” the maidservant said, opening the door wide to admit two boys lugging pails of steaming water. “The chests will be here shortly so you will have fresh clothing after your bath. I will bathe while you and Lady Serena are at supper.”

  The girl was efficient as she moved the copper tub to the center of the room and gestured the lads to fill it. When they had done so, Nelda ushered the lads from the room and waited by the door as two male servants carried their chests into the room, along with Merewyn’s bow and quiver of arrows.

  Once the men h
ad gone, Nelda made a quick survey of the chamber, a satisfied look on her face. “I will return after I’ve seen to Lady Serena.”

  “Thank you, Nelda.”

  Alone, Merewyn peeled off her gloves, her gown stained with mud, her undertunic, shoes and hosen. Taking the pot of soft soap from her chest and picking up a drying cloth from the stack left on her bed, she breathed in the scent of Talisand’s flowers and stepped into the tub.

  The light from the window fell across her body. Most of her skin was a pale ivory, but even with her straw hat, her face felt tight, as if it had gained color from the sun, for they’d had good weather.

  She eased her body into the steaming water and laid her head on the edge of the tub letting the hot water soothe her. Her mind filled with images of their travel to London. She had loved seeing the countryside and places she had never been. The days spent conversing with Lady Serena had been pleasant. But most of all, she had enjoyed being with Alex, mayhap too much. She was fond of seeing him each day. He could be charming as well as commanding and often he had made her smile in their brief stops or at supper. Whatever there was between them, it had grown, at least on her part. It was there whenever he touched her, placed his hands about her waist or allowed his gray eyes to linger on her.

  It was dangerous, but she could not bring herself to show him indifference.

  In Shrewsbury, they had played chess again and he had won. She had been relieved. It was better that way. Friends traded wins.

  The memory of the first night he had kissed her flickered in her mind. He had said they could be more than friends. What had he meant? She would not be his mistress and could never be his wife. What more was there for them? In truth, she feared she was playing with fire. But she could no longer deny her heart.

  The bath water began to grow cold and, feeling a chill, she quickly rinsed her hair and reached for the drying cloth. Stepping from the tub, she dried herself and changed into a linen gown the color of green summer leaves. Nelda would return to help her with the laces. Would Alex think it feminine? Her archer’s clothing had been sewn to conceal her curves. Though she was slender, she did have them and, for Alex, she wanted to appear more than a bowman.