A Knight to Remember Read online

Hugh didn’t normally ask to meet with her in the morning. He was usually busy with sword or archery practice, or completing tasks assigned by the captain of the guard. However, with the visit from the chancellor from London, some of the castle’s daily routines had been changed to accommodate the esteemed guest.

  Was Hugh…could he be planning to propose marriage? If so, she would say “aye,” for she loved him, too.

  Excitement quickened Aislinn’s steps as she made her way to the far end of the garden, where gnarled apple trees shaded a pair of stone benches. She sat, smoothing her gown. Unable to sit still, she rose and paced in front of the benches.

  The wrought iron gate to the garden creaked. She stared at the path winding its way down to the fruit trees. ’Twas foolish to feel anxious, when she knew Hugh loved her. She willed herself to be calm.

  Hugh came into view. He ran down the path, his tousled hair catching the light. Joy filled her.

  He reached her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her, hard. His fingers caressed her, while his tongue swirled against hers, coaxing deeper and deeper kisses from her until she could hardly breathe.

  “Aislinn,” he whispered against her lips. His arms went around her and squeezed her tight.

  “What is it?” she asked softly, for his body trembled against hers. She waited, breathless, for him to say the words she longed to hear: I love you, Aislinn. Will you be mine forever? Will you be my wife?

  He held her at arm’s length. His eyes sparkled. “The chancellor asked to speak with me early this morning. A private audience.”

  “The chancellor?” A private audience with such an important man was an honor indeed.

  “He was walking with his lordship by the tiltyards yesterday and saw my archery practice. He called me over to him and asked where I had trained. Of course, I told him I had no more training than most squires.”

  “You are far superior with a bow and arrow, though, to most squires,” she said with a proud smile.

  Hugh gazed down at her, his expression sobering. “The chancellor… He asked me to go to London with him.”

  “What—?”

  “He wants me to train for the king’s guard.”

  “Hugh!” Her breath suddenly felt like ice in her throat. “That…’tis wonderful.” Yet, in truth, ’twas not wonderful at all. Not if they were to be separated.

  He laughed, the sound rich with excitement. “Can you believe it? Me, a lord with naught to my name, going to train for the king’s guard.”

  “Naught?” Aislinn gently swatted his arm. “You have me. Us.”

  Hugh leaned away a fraction and caught her hands in his. “Aislinn.”

  “How far is Drandwick Keep from London? You will surely be able to visit.”

  “I do not know yet. ’Tis…” He shook his head. “There is much to sort out.”

  The ice within her spread through her rib cage. “We will find a way to be together. Right?”

  He looked away. In his handsome profile, she saw an element she’d never witnessed before: ambition. “I cannot make you any promises, Aislinn. Not now.”

  “But, Hugh—”

  “’Tis the best opportunity I have ever had.” His eyes, blazing with determination, locked with hers. “The king’s guard. The chancellor…he said he would not tolerate any distractions from my training. Surely, you understand.”

  She didn’t. She loved him with every bit of her heart that was starting to crack. She couldn’t bear to think of her days without him. Aislinn fought for words, but her stunned mind refused to oblige.

  He squeezed her fingers, then released her hands. “I am sorry, Aislinn. I…” He swallowed hard. “I am sorry.”

  “Hugh, please.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You said you loved me. We—”

  “I know what I said.” Hugh shook his head, such finality in that simple movement. “I am sorry. I truly am.”

  His gaze met hers one last time, and then he turned and loped away. She wilted back onto the bench, the stone akin to a sheet of ice against her palms. Oh, God, she was so cold inside, she vowed she’d never be warm again.

  In the quiet shade beneath the trees, she hugged herself and wept, intense sobs wrenching from her lips. Tears dripped onto her bodice. She cried until her tears ran dry and her face stung from the salty wetness. How she ached inside, a hollow, nagging, endless pain that refused to go away, not that afternoon, when she’d finally returned to the keep to find that Hugh had left with the chancellor. Not for many weeks afterward.

  Aislinn sniffled against the pillow. How foolish to shed tears. She was a very different woman now to that young maiden, who years ago had no more to worry about than her latest work of embroidery, or her lessons on household management, or—

  A soft rap sounded on the solar door.

  “Come in,” Aislinn called, recognizing Gilly’s knock.

  The older woman carried a small pewter plate of bread and cheese. Crossing to the bedside, she held out a sealed note. “This just arrived, milady. ’Tis from the healer.”

  Aislinn sat up, the bedding falling to her waist. She broke the seal on the missive. While she read what was written inside, Gilly set the food on the table, walked to the window, and opened the shutters to let in the sunshine.

  “Are you well, milady? You look as if you were crying.”

  “I am fine,” Aislinn said, shrugging off Gilly’s concern. Gesturing to the note, she said, “Larina contacted me at the sheriff’s request. She asks that I visit her as soon as possible.”

  “Why?”

  “She did not say, although she did mention ’tis a matter of some urgency.”

  “A matter that concerns our patient?”

  “I am guessing so,” Aislinn said.

  The older woman crossed to the nearest of the two carved linen chests pushed against the opposite wall. She lifted the lid and searched inside for appropriate garments for Aislinn.

  Aislinn’s gaze shifted to the second linen chest, the one that had belonged to Matthew. She hadn’t wanted to part with his belongings, and so they remained where they’d always been. A good thing, mayhap. At least she’d had clothes for the stranger.

  “The sheriff might have found out our patient’s identity,” Gilly said, draping a fresh linen chemise and silk gown over her arm. “I must say, I am curious about what you will learn today—as long as ’tis good news.”

  If Aislinn’s patient was confirmed to be Hugh, would that be good news? In a way. Yet, if he was married, and if Philippa was his beloved wife, ’twould only reinforce the turmoil still churning within Aislinn, the knowledge that Hugh could never be hers.

  “Surely it must be good news, milady,” Gilly soothed. “Otherwise, would not the sheriff have ridden here and arrested the stranger?”

  “I suppose.” Pushing aside the bedding, Aislinn rose, the floorboards cold under her bare feet. She quickly washed and, with Gilly’s help, dressed in the chemise and flowing russet gown with a squared neckline. She slipped on brown leather shoes. Seated on the wooden stool pushed near to the window, she ate while Gilly brushed her hair and tamed it into a single braid that she pinned into a neat coil around Aislinn’s head.

  “Lovely,” Gilly said, smiling.

  “Thank you.” Aislinn stood and set her empty plate aside. “I will go and see the stranger before I leave. Will you please find Tilford and tell him to saddle my mare and have an armed escort ready?”

  “Of course. If you do not mind, milady, I will stay here and help prepare soaps and creams for the coming market day. Is that all right with you?”

  “Aye.”

  Leaving Gilly to the arrangements, Aislinn quit her chamber and made her way to the stranger’s room. Four guards stood outside, as she’d ordered yesterday, an extra precaution now that the patient was no longer restrained.

  “Any trouble last night?” she asked the men.

  “None at all, milady,” the blond guard nearest her answered.

  “Good.” She knocked
and stepped inside.

  Her patient stood at the window, his broad back to her, his hands laced behind his back. His dark hair stirred in the breeze drifting in from outside, and as she entered the room, he glanced at her, his gaze calm but assessing.

  Aislinn’s breath caught. ’Twas odd seeing another man in her late husband’s clothes. He wore one of Matthew’s knee-length tunics and a pair of black hose, also Matthew’s. The scuffed leather boots, however, were likely Tilford’s.

  The tunic was a rich, walnut brown with black embroidery at the cuffs and neckline. Matthew had worn it only a few times, having preferred clothes in shades of blue and green. On Matthew’s large but less muscular frame, the garment had looked rather ordinary; on the stranger, whose broad shoulders and wide chest filled out the tunic to perfection, ’twas magnificent.

  The stranger belonged in sumptuous garments. Today, the angles of his face, his imposing stature, all added to the impression of noble authority. He looked as though he could command a fortress and do it well.

  Clearly aware of her scrutiny, he gestured to his clothing. “Do I meet with your approval, milady?”

  His tone held such teasing lightness, she smiled. “You do.”

  “And you, milady.” His warm gaze prowled over her, from her hair to the toes of her shoes poking out from under her gown. “You look exquisite.”

  She fought the pleasure stirred up by his words. One thing he’d obviously not forgotten was how to charm a woman. “Did you sleep well last night?” she asked.

  “I hardly slept at all.”

  So she wasn’t the only one who’d spent most of the dark hours staring at the ceiling. “I am sorry. Were you in pain?”

  “A bit, but ’twas not the reason for my lost sleep. I had too many thoughts running through my head.” He gestured to the bed, where several books lay open on the mussed blankets. “I hope you do not mind, but I read awhile to help me pass the night.”

  “Of course I do not mind.”

  He crossed to the bedside and trailed a finger down the ragged edge of a parchment page. “I learned about different varieties of mushrooms and how to use them to treat ailments. A more worthy pursuit, I guess, than plotting how to kill my guards with linen bandages and beeswax candles.”

  Aislinn blinked hard. “Pardon?”

  “Before I murdered the rest of you in your beds, that is.”

  “W-what did you say?”

  He winked. “I am jesting, milady.”

  Of course he was. She met his mischievous gaze and laughed. “Do not jest like that around Gilly.”

  “Why not? ’Tis rather amusing to see her pale to the color of old bed sheets.”

  Aislinn couldn’t help it; she giggled. “You sound just like—” Hugh. Barely in time, she caught the name from escaping her lips.

  “Just like?” he coaxed softly, his voice akin to a lazy caress.

  She averted her gaze and ignored a pang of yearning. “Someone I knew.”

  “Someone you loved?”

  Somehow, she managed a noncommittal shrug.

  He drew in a breath, as if to say more. Then, as though changing his mind, he said, “I understand the clothes I am wearing were your husband’s. I assume these books were also his?”

  “Aye. He loved to learn. His collection of tomes was never big enough.” Meeting the stranger’s gaze again, she said, “I came to tell you that I will be riding to the village today. Gilly will remain here. If you need aught while I am away, ask the guards outside.”

  He stilled, his hand on the leather cover of the book he’d just closed. “Why are you going to the village?”

  “The healer summoned me. An urgent matter.”

  The stranger strode around the bed, his boots thudding on the floorboards. “Does this matter concern me?”

  He stood in front of her now, towering over her. Restless energy crackled in the short distance between them. “I do not know,” Aislinn said. “I will find out—”

  “I will come with you.”

  “You are wounded.”

  A sigh of frustration hissed through his clenched teeth. “I am much recovered. Please. If possible, I would like to see the roadside where you found me. Mayhap being there again will help stir up my memories.”

  ’Twas a good idea. Yet, having to keep watch on him…

  “I will be no trouble to you or your guards.” He caught her left hand and pressed it over his heart. “I promise.”

  The pressure of his rough, warm palm on the back of her hand sent awareness racing down her arm. Sparks of sensation shot straight to her belly, and lower. Saints above, but if she heeded the lustful yearnings inside her, she’d be sighing at his touch, swooning against him, and rising up for another kiss.

  She pulled her hand away. “Let me consider—”

  “I must go with you. I must find out who I am”—his voice roughened—“for both our sakes.”

  In his eyes, she saw a reminder of the impassioned kiss they’d shared, of the desire that simmered between them now. That desire promised to run richer, burn brighter, than anything she’d experienced before. To feel so strongly about this man was dangerous and reckless. She wanted—needed—to know who he was, before she risked any more of her heart.

  “All right,” she said.

  He smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I will ask one of your guards to escort you to the bailey. We will leave as soon as possible.”

  “Very well, milady.”

  “You will pose me no trouble. You will heed all of my orders.”

  He feigned a hurt expression. “Of course.” Before she could turn away, his mouth tilted into a roguish smile. “If you like, milady, I can confirm my sincerity with a kiss.”

  Chapter Eight

  Aislinn halted her mare in the market square outside Larina’s premises. She sensed the stranger’s keen gaze upon her back and fought the sensual shivers weaving through her.

  If you like, milady, I can confirm my sincerity with a kiss.

  Those words, indisputably an invitation, had echoed in her thoughts every moment of the ride to Crannley. He’d ridden behind with two of her men. His injuries hadn’t slowed their pace, and he’d grudgingly accepted her request to keep moving when they’d passed the spot where he’d been found; she’d promised they would stop on their return. Yet, his offer of a kiss still hovered between them, an unfinished challenge, as though he’d tossed down a gauntlet and waited for her to dare to pick it up.

  She might have refused his kiss in his chamber, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want it—then or now. Her skin tingled with the memory of how wickedly good their kiss had been. A kiss to savor, to cherish, to crave over and over again.

  As she did.

  Forcing aside the aching tug of desire, she handed down her reins to one of the men-at-arms and dismounted. The painted wooden sign above Larina’s premises—a rendering of a tied bunch of herbs and an earthenware pot—creaked on its iron chains in the morning breeze.

  Smoothing the creases from her cloak, she turned to address the men. The stranger, already dismounted, was studying the sign. His gaze shifted to meet hers.

  “Tether the horses,” she told her men. Then, to the stranger: “Once I know what Larina has to tell me, I will come and find you. Do not leave the market square.”

  “Aye, milady.” Jaw taut, he studied the rest of the buildings in the row with Larina’s. He looked impatient, unsettled. His attention shifted to the villagers going about their daily tasks, the children near the men-at-arms who were throwing sticks for a mongrel to chase, the horses and carts entering and leaving the square, as if he was trying to find some detail of note that would unlock his memory.

  Aislinn knocked on the door to Larina’s premises. The healer’s door was normally open, unless she was seeing a patient. As Aislinn waited, she watched the stranger wander to where a young knight was securing a leather sack to his saddle. A longbow was propped against a wooden post, and the stranger gestured to it
while talking to the young man.

  The door to the healer’s home opened. “Milady.” Larina smiled. “I hoped ’twas you. Please, come in.”

  Aislinn stepped inside, her senses filling with the smells of crushed herbs and burning tallow candles. Her gaze went to the back room to see that the door was shut.

  “I am hoping she will fall asleep,” Larina said softly, keeping the main entryway open to the market. “She is exhausted, poor thing.”

  “She?”

  Larina nodded. “She is the reason I contacted you. This morning, a villager going to feed his chickens found a young girl, about eight or nine years old, hiding in the brush near his chicken coop. She was frightened, crying, and refused to give her name. He summoned the sheriff. He brought the girl to me.”

  “Who is she?” Aislinn asked.

  “I do not know. She was too frightened to confide in me or the sheriff. However, I can tell from the rope marks on her left ankle that she was held against her will.”

  “Mercy!”

  “I am also certain she is of noble birth, even though she is dressed in a peasant girl’s clothes.”

  “A lady,” Aislinn whispered.

  “Her skin is clear from eating good food. Her nails are strong, and her hands are not cracked like those of a peasant born into a life of hard labor. I imagine her feet were equally smooth and soft, until she ran barefoot on the road in the middle of the night in her frantic escape.” She clucked her tongue. “The poor girl’s feet are all cuts and scrapes now.”

  “How awful.” Aislinn shook her head. The circumstances must have been dire indeed for the child to make such a dangerous run for freedom, especially alone and at night. “How can I help? Do you think she might talk to me?”

  “I was hoping so, since you are also a lady. You also know many of the noble families in Nottinghamshire. Perhaps you will recognize her.”

  “I will gladly—”

  The door to the back room opened. A girl appeared in the embrasure, hobbling on bandaged feet. Her dark brown hair, once neatly braided, trailed in a disheveled snarl over her left shoulder. The braid hung to the waist of her dirty, loose-fitting woolen gown, and she clutched the end of her hair like a lifeline.