A Knight to Remember Read online

  She set the bowl down.

  His belly growled.

  Hiding a smile, she picked up the bowl again and faced the bed. His jaw at a stubborn tilt, he refused to look at her.

  Mayhap he just needed the right kind of persuasion.

  “If you eat this porridge,” she said, “you may ask me questions. One question for every mouthful you swallow. Mayhap my answers will stir your memories. ’Twould be a good thing, aye?”

  His head turned, and he met her gaze.

  “Do you agree?” she asked.

  “You will answer each question truthfully?” he countered.

  “Aye.”

  “Very well.”

  She spooned out some porridge. Honey glistened on the cooked oats swimming in milk. Holding the mouthful out, she waited.

  His lips parted, and he eased slightly forward.

  She slipped the porridge into his mouth.

  He had the most captivating lips, sensual and beautifully formed. A droplet of honey clung to his lower lip, and suddenly, she was drawn back to a summer feast, when she and Hugh had snuck up to a secluded corner of Drandwick’s battlements.

  “Bite.” He held out the pastry drizzled with honey and almonds.

  She bit into the confection. The sweet, crunchy dessert fell into her mouth. Honey dripped into the corner of her lips, and she giggled.

  His gaze fell to the honey. Before she could lick it away, he was there, his tongue gliding over her mouth and then inside, bringing the honey with it, sweeping the delicious confection up with his tongue and sharing it with her. Nothing had ever tasted so good…

  A chuckle snapped her attention back to the stranger. “Milady?”

  The honey was gone from his lip. He must have licked it away. “Sorry,” she said. “Your question?”

  “Whose room is this?”

  “My husband Matthew’s. My late husband’s, I should say. He died six months ago. ’Twas his private chamber where he read, worked on accounts, and wrote letters.”

  The stranger nodded, his mirth fading. “I am sorry to hear he died.”

  “’Tis kind of you. He was a good man.” Matthew had been loyal, compassionate, and honorable, even if he hadn’t been good with the castle’s finances.

  The patient tipped his chin toward the bowl, indicating he wanted more, and she fed him again. This time, she gently stirred the porridge until he’d finished. Far better to keep busy than stare at his mouth and think about kissing.

  “Why are the Latin words drawn on the wall?”

  She smiled. “To Matthew, they signified the way he strove to live his life. Strength of character, fidelity in marriage, and luck in regard to taking risks, for without risk, there is no gain.”

  “I see.” He accepted another mouthful.

  Again, she stirred the porridge. Curiosity burned within her to see if he might have milk on his lip or mayhap a smudge of oatmeal. She frowned, kept her gaze on the bowl, and stirred with more conviction.

  “Did you love your husband?”

  A very personal question. A refusal to answer burned on the tip of Aislinn’s tongue. As the objection formed, though, she saw an answering rebuttal in his eyes. She hadn’t stipulated that certain questions were forbidden. How foolish of her.

  “I did love him. As I said—”

  “I know what you said. Was he the only man, though? The one you loved with such passion he lived in your soul?”

  The question sucked the air from her lungs. Mercifully, she found a way to avoid answering in the rules she’d set. “That was another question.”

  “I will eat another mouthful, then, before you answer.”

  Hating the sensation of being ensnared, Aislinn pushed another spoonful into his mouth. She shivered inside, aware of him studying her. When he swallowed, she could no longer deny him an answer. “There was a young lord, many years ago. I loved him more than I can say. However, our relationship did not last.”

  “You decided to end it?”

  “Nay, he did.” Her brows rose. “’Twas another question, I believe.”

  The patient grinned.

  He ate the next portion without protest, but before he could speak again, Aislinn waved another spoonful at him. “You must eat first before asking.”

  He rolled his eyes, but obeyed.

  Only one or two mouthfuls left in the bowl.

  “Have you seen your young lord since you parted ways?”

  How she resented the ache stirred up by his words. “I have not tried to find him, and I have not asked about him. I did not see any benefit to such inquiries.”

  “Not while you were married, mayhap. Now you are free to wed again. He might be, too.”

  Again, the stranger pried into very personal matters. What gave him such right? Anger tingled through her as she scraped a last serving out of the bowl. When she held the spoon to his lips, he seemed aware of her irritation, for wariness shadowed his eyes.

  “You have one last question,” she said.

  “Then I will waste no words. If you were to see that young lord again, if I should happen to be that man—”

  “I choose not to say what might happen.” The spoon dropped into the bowl with a clink, and she spun away. Her hands trembled.

  “If I am that man,” he said quietly, “I want to remember why I broke your heart. I must have been a damned fool.”

  Chapter Five

  Seated beside Aislinn at the lord’s table in Pendersley’s great hall, Nolan Riverwell wiped his mouth on a linen napkin. He winked at her. “’Twas an excellent meal. As usual, you have spoiled me.”

  Aislinn smiled at him. “I am glad you enjoyed the fare.” She had asked Cook to prepare roast lamb with a peppery gravy, frumenty, roast onions and carrots, buttery mashed turnips, and to finish, a bread pudding drowned in brandy and swimming in creamy custard. Since Nolan had been one of Matthew’s closest friends—they’d both been twenty-five years older than she and friends since they were boys—she’d leaned early on what were Nolan’s favorite dishes.

  He reached for his wine goblet while looking across the crowded hall lined with trestle tables, where servants and men-at-arms ate and chatted. She followed his stare and couldn’t tamp down rising anxiety. How bare the hall seemed; she’d sold the large, colorful wall hangings last month. So far, she’d managed to keep the castle well enough on her own, but for how much longer?

  The strain of that unknown made her acutely aware of Nolan’s gaze as it returned to her and trailed down the bodice of her gown. Admiration gleamed in his eyes, and she forced herself not to glance away. She’d worn a silvery gray bliaut today, fitted to her curves and cut from fine silk, with embroidered flowers at the neckline, draping sleeves, and hemline. While braiding Aislinn’s hair, Gilly had woven in matching gray silk ribbons.

  Today, Aislinn had dressed as a wealthy noblewoman; she might be struggling financially, but she still had her dignity. Nolan hadn’t visited just to enjoy a meal with her; he’d come to ask her to marry him. Again.

  She must remain strong in what she wanted. She’d wed again when she fell in love—not because the king wished to control her lands by marrying her off to one of his lackeys. Her marriage to Matthew had been arranged by her father. She’d loved Matthew, but not in the aching, blinding, all-consuming way love was depicted in the chansons, or that she remembered from her blissful days with Hugh.

  Her next husband would be a man of her choosing, a man she loved so passionately, so completely, her soul would nigh burst with joy. All points she must keep in the forefront of her mind when Nolan brought up the subject of her future happiness, likely any moment now…

  He cleared his throat. “Aislinn—”

  She placed her hand on his. “I could use a walk after that meal. Would you care to see what I’ve done to the gardens?”

  “I would.” As he stood, sunshine skimmed over his shoulder-length hair that was more gray now than black. “You must show me the rose bushes I brought you a few mont
hs ago.”

  “Of course.” Aislinn was proud of her rose garden, even if ’twas much smaller than the magnificent one at his keep. In the weeks after Matthew died, she’d spent many afternoons pulling weeds and tending her roses, and the work had helped her heal. She couldn’t forget all of Nolan’s help, either; he’d been most generous with the cuttings he’d given her to build her garden.

  Together, they strolled across the hall to the stairwell leading down to the bailey. Once outside, Aislinn felt the tension within her lessen a little.

  While they walked, her attention strayed to the window of the keep, to the chamber where the stranger lay. She hadn’t been able to return to his room yesterday and had left orders for Tilford to once again stay with him through the night. Was her patient feeling any better? Had he regained any of his memories? Once Nolan left, she’d go to the patient’s chamber and check on him.

  “Last time we spoke,” Nolan said, “you mentioned you needed a carpenter. Did you find one?”

  “I believe so.” Aislinn told him of the arrangement she’d made with Erwin.

  Nolan held the wrought iron gate to the gardens open for her to pass through. “Was that the same journey on which you found the man lying in the woods?”

  Aislinn blinked, startled. “How did you know of him?”

  “I overheard some of your stable lads talking.” Grass whispered against Nolan’s boots as he strode alongside her. “That must have been a bit of a shock for you,” he added, the fruit trees casting shadows across them while they walked.

  “More of a shock for him, I vow,” Aislinn said. “He had been left for dead.”

  “God’s teeth! Does he know who attacked him?”

  She shook her head. Stopping before the rock border that framed her rectangular beds of rose bushes, she said, “He cannot remember.”

  “He has no memory of the assault?”

  “None.” She brushed away a beetle that had alighted on her sleeve. “He does not even know his own identity. Hopefully, his memory will return soon, and we will have answers as to what happened to him.”

  “Poor man.”

  “Aye.” Aislinn pointed to one of the rose bushes in the front row that was covered in new growth. “’Tis one of the plants you gave me. The pink rose, I believe.” She gestured to another, toward the back. “That one, too, was from you.”

  “They are thriving.” Nolan smiled at her. “As, I am sure, the wounded man is healing well in your tender care.”

  His words were pleasant enough, but an odd note wove through them. He sounded almost…jealous.

  Surely not. Nolan had no reason to envy a stranger who, when well enough, would leave the keep and resume his own life. Even if the injured man was Hugh, that didn’t mean he would want to court her. He was likely married, with a family who was missing him and wondering why he hadn’t come home.

  “Aislinn?”

  “I am sorry. I was just thinking—”

  “May I see him?”

  “The wounded man?”

  “Aye. Mayhap I will recognize him. I know most of the lords in Nottinghamshire and many from the royal courts in London.” He shrugged. “I would like to help, if I can.”

  A rush of gratitude warmed her. “You are most kind. I will take you to him.”

  A short while later, Aislinn eased open the door to the chamber. Her patient was awake. Gilly stood by the bed, spooning broth into his mouth.

  When Aislinn strode in, the stranger’s gaze fixed on her. His eyes widened and warmed with appreciation, and he shook his head at the older woman’s offer of more broth. His stare slid from Aislinn’s ribbon-laced hair to the hem of her gown.

  “Milady,” he murmured, his voice almost a purr.

  “Good day,” she said.

  Nolan stepped in beside her. The stranger’s attention shifted to him. The admiring heat in his eyes vanished, replaced by a hard, suspicious stare. His bound hands clenched.

  “Do you remember something?” Aislinn crossed to the bedside. “Do you recognize Lord Riverwell?”

  Her patient didn’t answer. His hands were so tightly fisted, his knuckles whitened. Veins bulged beneath the bronzed skin of his arms.

  Aislinn frowned and met Nolan’s startled glance. “Do you know this man?”

  “I have never seen him before.”

  “He is a stranger to you?”

  Nolan nodded.

  With a puzzled sigh, Aislinn looked back at the man in the bed. He was still glaring at Nolan. The patient’s features, taut with mistrust, had reddened with barely leashed anger. If he hadn’t been restrained, she vowed he would have leapt from the bed and lunged at Nolan.

  “We should let you rest,” Aislinn said to the injured man.

  His lip curled. “I do not want to rest.”

  Aislinn gestured for the older lord to step outside. “Gilly, try to get our patient to eat more broth.”

  “Aye, milady.”

  Aislinn quit the chamber and pulled the door shut. She drew Nolan down the passageway and studied his face in the light of the burning reed torch nearby. “Are you certain you have never met that man before?”

  “If I have, I do not recall the meeting.”

  Aislinn gnawed her bottom lip. “Why did he react with such anger, then?”

  “I cannot say. I expect he mistook me for someone else.”

  * * *

  Aislinn stood in the bailey, near the stables where Nolan and his men were preparing to leave. Her hands were damp, and she discreetly dried them on her gown. How she yearned to go to the wounded man, to try and understand why he’d reacted with such fury, but being courteous to Nolan was also important.

  Patting the glossy coat of his bay destrier, Nolan faced her. “You will contact me if there is aught that you need?”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  Nolan’s gaze skimmed her face, and his grin softened. He caught her left hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her fingers. “Think on what I have said. My offer of marriage is most sincere, Aislinn. I would give you all that you desire.” He kissed her hand once more. “You would never have to worry about debts or hiring carpenters ever again.”

  Part of her whispered she was a fool not to accept him, right here, right now. He’d already proposed twice and wouldn’t wait for her forever. Yet, she didn’t love him, not in the way she’d cherished Hugh. Surely ’twas not too foolish or selfish of her to want to find true love?

  She waited in the bailey until Nolan and his armed escort had ridden over the lowered drawbridge and onto the road beyond. Then, she whirled in a shimmering rustle of silk and headed to the stranger’s chamber, her breath tight in her throat.

  He was alone. Gilly had no doubt taken the broth bowl and spoon to the kitchens. The stranger’s gaze shifted from the painted words on the wall to her, and her pulse jumped at the fury and anguish still churning in his eyes.

  Aislinn hurried to the bedside. “What is wrong? Did you remember—?”

  “I know that man, the one who was with you earlier. Is he gone now?”

  She nodded, then rested a hand on her patient’s broad arm, careful to avoid his healing bruise. His muscles and skin were as hard as rock beneath her palm, his body still tensed and ready to do battle. “How do you know him?” she asked. “Lord Riverwell said you two had never met.”

  “He is lying.” The words ground between the stranger’s teeth.

  He seemed so determined that he was right. Why would Nolan lie? She could think of no reason for him to do so. To her knowledge, he’d never once spoken false to Matthew, or her, or anyone else. “If you are an acquaintance of Nolan’s, where did you meet?”

  “I cannot remember.” The patient swallowed hard, his eyes blazing. “My mind refuses to clear, to divulge how and why I know him. As soon as I set eyes upon him, though, I felt rage boil inside me, and an agony…” He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly struggling with his turmoil. “’Tis the worst kind of pain.”

  “Agony relat
ed to your wound?” Aislinn glanced at the pillows behind his head, relieved to not see any blood seeping through the bandages. Mayhap she should inspect the injury again.

  “Not my head,” he muttered. “My heart.”

  Tears glistened in his eyes, his emotional torment so raw she drew in a sharp breath.

  She gently squeezed his arm. “I am sorry—”

  “How can you be sorry?” His anguished tone caused her stomach to knot. “How can you, when even I do not understand why I feel this way?”

  Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. He instinctively tried to raise his right hand, but ’twas still securely tied. His grunt of annoyance became a violent roar. “Damnation!”

  “Please. Calm yourself.”

  “Untie me!” he bellowed.

  “I explained why I cannot.”

  A sob wrenched from his throat. “Untie me!”

  The chamber door flew open. The two guards rushed in, their daggers drawn. “Milady.”

  The stranger’s harsh breathing echoed in the chamber. His bare chest rose and fell, fury surrounding him like an invisible, molten armor. She sensed, however, that he would never turn his rage on her.

  To the guards, she said, “’Tis all right. You may leave.”

  “Are you certain, milady?”

  “I am. Go.”

  Exchanging uneasy glances, the two men left, shutting the door behind them.

  Aislinn’s attention returned to the stranger. He looked less furious, but his moist eyes still burned with turmoil.

  “Now,” she said. “I will look at your wound—”

  She straightened, readying to move to the table and felt a tug on her hair.

  Looking down, she saw he’d caught hold of the end of her braid. Her hair was twisted around his clenched fingers.

  “Let me go,” Aislinn demanded.

  “Untie my hands.”

  Dangerous excitement shivered through her. “I will not ask again.”

  His bold stare didn’t waver. “Then you know what you must do. Untie me.”

  Chapter Six

  Aislinn held the stranger’s piercing gaze. She was lady of this keep. He was her guest. Only a simpleton would challenge her in such a brazen manner when, with one shouted command, she could summon the guards to subdue him with force.