A Knight to Remember Read online

  He reined in his horse and then dismounted. Reaching up, he asked Philippa to come down from the animal’s back. She shook her head.

  “Please, Apple Cake.”

  “I am s-scared.”

  “I know. So am I. Sometimes, though, we must do things that frighten us.”

  “B-but—”

  “The sheriff will not let anyone hurt us. Nor will the other guards.”

  “Neither will I,” Aislinn added. She’d dismounted from her mare and crossed to them, her smile warm. “Philippa, will you please come down? I have something I wish to ask you.”

  The girl hesitated a moment longer, then allowed Hugh to help her dismount.

  “W-what did you want to ask me?” Philippa said, curiosity in her huge eyes.

  “Would you like to go for a walk? We will not go far from your father’s side. However, there are pretty flowers growing along the verge. I thought you might like to pick some with me.”

  “Is that all right, Father?”

  “’Tis a fine idea.” Hugh nodded gratefully to Aislinn. She would keep Philippa busy while he talked with the sheriff. He fought a tug of tenderness as his child slid her small hand into Aislinn’s and went with her to the opposite side of the road.

  If he’d been less of an idiot years ago and married Aislinn, she would have been the mother of his children. How effortlessly she’d slipped into the role of mother with Philippa today—

  The chime of a metal buckle drew his attention to the sheriff. The lawman took a wax tablet and stylus from his saddlebag and looked at Hugh. “How about if you start from the moment you sensed your attackers? Give as much detail as you can.”

  “Fine.” Hugh cleared his throat. “I remember an eerie feeling, a sense of being watched, when we reached this stretch of road. I was riding in front, my two men-at-arms behind. Philippa and I were riding together, as we did today. She was so excited about our journey. She felt so grown up, traveling alone with me, without her sisters.” The memories were cruel, mocking him in the pain hammering through his skull.

  “You reached this spot,” the sheriff urged, “and then—”

  “Suddenly, we heard shouts. Hoofbeats. Four riders galloped out of the woods, their swords drawn. They had clearly been waiting for us. The thugs surrounded us, ordered us to drop our weapons or be killed. I refused. I drew my sword. So did one of my men-at-arms. The other man…” He almost choked on the memory of the guard’s betrayal.

  “The other man-at-arms?”

  “Shaw sold me out to the attackers.”

  Hugh glared at Shaw, who was drawing his horse back in retreat. Shaw’s anxious gaze shifted to the four thugs, even as he said, “I am sorry, milord.”

  “Sorry?” Hugh snarled over Philippa’s terrified sobs. “Traitor.”

  “Quiet,” the black-haired lout growled at Shaw. “Go, now.” Shaw wheeled his horse around and galloped away. Hugh’s remaining man-at-arms faced them, his weapon raised.

  “What do you want?” Hugh demanded. Did they know about the emerald pendant he’d tucked into his clothing? He’d told few people of the jewel—’twas safer that way—but mayhap someone had caught a glimpse of it amongst his possessions. He had few enemies that he knew of. He could think of no other reason for an attack.

  Lip curling, the black-haired thug tipped his head toward the man-at-arms. “Kill him.”

  “Nay!” Hugh roared. “Tell me what you want.”

  His words went unheeded. Two attackers converged on the man-at-arms, their swords arcing down in brutal slashes. Steel clanged. Spitting an oath, and with Philippa clinging to his waist, Hugh spurred his horse into the fight, but the glinting swords cut dangerously near to her body. He’d die rather than see her hurt.

  Hugh turned his horse away. “I must put you down,” he said against her ear. “When your feet hit the ground, run for the woods. Hide.”

  “F-Father—”

  “I will call you when ’tis safe.”

  She clung more tightly to him, refusing to dismount from the animal.

  “Please, Philippa.”

  A grisly, gurgled cry snapped his gaze back to his man-at-arms. Face going slack, the man toppled off his horse, his throat streaming blood. He landed on his back on the road, his eyes sightless in death. Hugh said a quick, silent prayer for the loyal guard who’d given his life trying to save him and Philippa.

  The thugs gathered around Hugh. Dread, sharper than the frightened whistle of his daughter’s breathing against his throat, hummed in Hugh’s veins.

  “Remember,” the black-haired man said with a sneer, “the young lady is not to be harmed.”

  Hugh froze. They didn’t want the emerald. They wanted Philippa. Who wanted her, and why?

  “Father,” Philippa whimpered, trembling.

  “Why do you want my daughter?” Hugh yelled, leveling his sword at the closest thug. “Why? I have a right to know.”

  “You do not need to know,” a brown-haired man said. The scar slashing across his face contorted as he smiled. “Soon you will be dead.”

  The black-haired thug nudged his horse closer, his weapon aimed at the back of Philippa’s head. “Set her down.”

  Hugh fought a crushing wave of helplessness. “I will never hand her over to the likes of you.”

  He struck out with desperation and rage. Steel blades clashed. He dodged a parry from another attacker, lashed out again, but there were too many opponents. He curled his body to shield Philippa, and an instant later, the flat of a blade slammed into his skull. His teeth jarred together, and his vision went black at the edges.

  He grabbed for his saddle, but his hands refused to work. Sliding sideways, his body unresponsive, he saw Philippa alone on the horse, crying. He fell, stunned, to the dirt.

  The thugs dismounted. His senses returned enough for him to fight. He kicked, punched, as they dragged him onto the verge. The thugs answered with vicious kicks.

  Hugh’s vision blurred as he searched for Philippa. She was struggling in a man’s hold. Her screams and sobs tore at him. He tried, dear God he tried, to crawl back to the road. His world was going black.

  The emerald. He could offer it in exchange for his daughter’s freedom. He tried to speak, but swift kicks to his lower back sent him rolling onto his side. He fell still, struggling for breath. The thugs laughed. They stepped away, talking amongst themselves. He was no threat now. He was as good as dead.

  The metallic smell of blood rose from his skin. The pain in his skull… He could not bear it. Not anymore. As his eyelids slipped closed, as his body settled heavily into the crushed plants beneath him, he forced his stiff fingers to close around the emerald pendant. He pushed it, as far as he could, beneath the flattened stalks and leaves.

  The bastards had his daughter. They’d taken his life. But they wouldn’t have the emerald pendant.

  “Emerald pendant, you say,” the sheriff repeated.

  Hugh blinked hard, rolled the tension out of his shoulders, and then strode through the dock and nettle plants to the ground beneath the trees. He crouched and tilted his head, locating the rotting fallen branch and group of spindly seedlings that he’d seen as he’d lain on the edge of consciousness. ’Twas foolish to hope that the jewel was where he’d left it, but still, he had to know.

  He trailed his fingers over the ground.

  “’Twas a large emerald, was it not?” the sheriff asked.

  “Aye. Rectangular in shape and set in gold.” A rare and valuable gemstone that was rumored to unite soul mates—if he believed the frightened ramblings of a Saracen prisoner who’d been desperate to save his life and that of his family. Fool that Hugh was, he’d liked to believe the emerald had some kind of romantic power. ’Twas why he’d brought it with him on his journey days ago, after all.

  “I believe Lady Locksmeade has that jewel in her possession.”

  Hugh paused. “Aislinn?”

  The sheriff had pulled a rolled parchment from his saddlebag and was skimming what
was written there. “Mmm. She found it near your left arm, under crushed plants. She said it appeared as though you had tried to keep it from your assailants.”

  With a wry laugh, Hugh fell back onto his arse. He fought a dizzying rush of shock, mingled with relief. He couldn’t see Aislinn or Philippa through the bushes and plants blocking his view, but he could hear their voices. “God above,” he muttered.

  “I gave her the jewel for safekeeping,” the sheriff said. “’Twas safer at her castle than at my gaol. She signed a writ agreeing to return the jewel to you once you’d regained your memories.”

  “I see.” Shaking his head, Hugh laughed again. ’Twas no less than a miracle that after all the thousands of leagues that emerald had traveled, all the years it had been in his possession but neglected, that she was the one to end up with it.

  A miracle, indeed. Or some kind of romantic power.

  “I have just a few more questions about your attackers, Lord Brigonne,” the sheriff said. “If I may?”

  * * *

  When Aislinn and the others rode into the bailey, Gilly hurried out of the forebuilding, her green wool gown swaying at her heels. Her gaze flew to Hugh, then Philippa, asleep in her father’s arms, then settled on Aislinn.

  “You left with one stranger, milady, and came home with two,” Gilly said, as Aislinn reined in her mare.

  Aislinn smiled. “The man we tended is a stranger no more. His memories returned while we were in the village.”

  Gilly’s widening gaze darted back to Hugh. He was grinning, Aislinn noted. That lopsided, roguish smile of his always stirred a warm glow in the pit of her stomach.

  “And?” The lady-in-waiting thrust out an impatient hand, almost hitting one of the stable hands in the head. The lad ducked out of harm’s way, approached Aislinn’s mare, and took hold of the reins she handed down to him. “Milady,” Gilly grumbled, “you must not keep the rest of us in ignorance.”

  “I was right about our patient,” Aislinn said. “He is Hugh Brigonne.”

  Gilly blew out a relieved sigh. “Not a thief, then.”

  “Nay,” Hugh answered from astride his horse. “Not unless you count all the women’s hearts I have stolen.”

  Aislinn fought the urge to glance over at him to see if the rogue had meant her heart. He might have, for his voice had gone soft and husky as he spoke.

  However, Gilly hadn’t noticed. “Not a murderer, either,” she continued.

  “Not of ladies-in-waiting,” he said easily. “Not unless they test my patience and I grow very annoyed.”

  The older woman’s plump hand instinctively flitted to her throat, but she managed a chuckle. Then, her eyes softening, she asked, “Who is the young girl?”

  “Hugh’s daughter, Philippa,” Aislinn said. Another stable hand set a wooden block on the ground and Aislinn dismounted. When Gilly reached her side, Aislinn said, “Philippa is eight years old, and the oldest of Hugh’s three girls. She has been through quite an ordeal. I will tell you more about it later, but for now, she deserves a hearty meal, a hot bath, ointment for her wounds, and a good rest.”

  “Say no more, milady. I shall be glad to see to her needs.” Gilly hesitated and peered up at Hugh. “As long as her father agrees?”

  Hugh looked weary enough to fall asleep in the saddle. Relaying his account of the attack had clearly drained his physical and emotional strength. When he’d asked Aislinn if he could return to her castle, at least until he was hale enough to undertake his journey home, she’d gladly agreed. Philippa, too, needed to recuperate. And, after not seeing Hugh for twelve years, Aislinn hoped they would have a chance to talk, to catch up—

  Nodding to Gilly, Hugh said, “I know you will treat my daughter with great care—as well as you tended me.”

  The older woman flushed. “I shall, milord.”

  Philippa stirred. She rubbed her sleepy eyes with her fists, then looked around at the towering keep, the thatch-roofed stables and outbuildings nearby, and the servants who had paused in their tasks to see the newcomers. “Where are we?” she whispered.

  “Pendersley Keep,” Aislinn said. “My home. I hope you will like it here. We enjoy having guests.”

  A small sound escaped from Hugh, and she dared to look at him. His smile this time was even more crooked, and from his narrowed eyes, she instinctively knew he was remembering how he’d been tied to his bed. A tingling heat swept through her, but she forced it down and gestured to the older woman. “Philippa, this is Gilly. She is my lady-in-waiting, and she looked after me when I was a girl. She will care for you while you are here. I am sure after your long day you would like a tasty meal. How about some fresh clothes more suited to you?”

  Philippa smiled shyly down at Gilly. In return, the older woman tapped her chin with her finger. “I think this young lady would like two bowls of stew and two big chunks of bread to mop up the gravy. Then, a couple of custard tarts. What do you say to that?”

  The young girl giggled. “I will eat every bite.”

  “I thought so.” Gilly winked.

  “Sounds like an excellent plan,” Hugh said. He swung down from his horse and helped Philippa dismount. The stable lads took the reins of his horse and led the animal to a water trough.

  “I almost forgot, milady.” Gilly faced Aislinn again. “The carpenter visited earlier today.”

  “Regrettably, when I was not here.” Aislinn sighed. “Did Cook speak to him about her ideas for the pantry?”

  “She did. He took a few measurements and made some notes. I am sure he knew what he was doing, but…”

  “But?” Aislinn coaxed.

  “I must say, milady, ’twas a bit odd, the questions he was asking.”

  “In what way?”

  “He wanted to know about the stranger you found by the roadside. He said he’d heard about the attack from someone in the village. The carpenter wondered where in the castle the stranger was staying. When I asked why, the carpenter said he didn’t want to disturb or wake our patient, but while answering, he wouldn’t meet my gaze. The carpenter was rather shifty-eyed, if you know what I mean. He was sweating, too, quite heavily.”

  Frowning, Aislinn met Hugh’s gaze. “You were right to be suspicious, Gilly,” Aislinn said.

  “What did the carpenter look like?” Hugh asked.

  “Tall. Shoulder-length brown hair. He was your age, milady, I would guess,” the older woman said.

  “That description fits many men in this county.” Aislinn shook her head. “Well, when he returns, please advise me as soon as possible.”

  “I would like to see the man, too,” Hugh added.

  “Of course.” Gilly’s attention shifted to Philippa, standing with her fingers linked through Hugh’s. The older woman stretched out a plump hand to the girl. “Come, then, young lady. Let us go to the kitchens and see about that stew.”

  Philippa slid her smaller fingers into Gilly’s. “And the custard tarts,” she said.

  “Oh, aye. You like custard, then?”

  “My favorite is apple cake,” Philippa said, her voice drifting back to Aislinn and Hugh as she and Gilly strolled away. “But custard tarts are delicious, too.”

  “I think those two are going to be good friends,” Aislinn murmured.

  Hugh chuckled. “I think so, too.” His expression sobered, and he reached out and caught Aislinn’s hands. The brush of his skin on hers, the intensity of his stare, sent a fresh, shimmering anticipation gliding through her and settling in places she didn’t dare acknowledge. “We have a lot to talk about,” he said quietly, “now that I remember who I am.”

  “Indeed, we do.” She swallowed, her throat tight with old, pent-up emotions. “I meant to tell you before now, but I have your emerald pendant—”

  “I know. The sheriff told me. Yet, I do not wish to discuss your safekeeping of the jewel, for which I am very grateful.” Hugh gently squeezed her fingers. “Later today, we must find an opportunity to speak in private. ’Tis especially important
now that I recall why I was traveling that road, so far from my home, the day I was wounded.”

  Chapter Ten

  Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the horn windows of the keep’s great hall, casting a golden glow over the vast room and the hearth where Aislinn sat reading a letter by the fire. She smiled, for Magdalen’s missives were always a treat to receive, written with swooping letters and great excitement.

  How would Magdalen react when Aislinn wrote back and told her about Hugh? No doubt her dear friend would have plenty to say on the matter.

  Sipping wine, Aislinn read Magdalen’s letter twice. Servants in the hall were readying the tables for the evening meal, and she could no longer delay speaking with Hugh. She hadn’t seen him all afternoon, and her stomach had tied itself in knots, for she couldn’t help but wonder what he was going to tell her. Why had he been traveling so far from his home? Why had his eyes warmed, his tone softened, in ways that had suggested his journey had involved her?

  Surely, she hadn’t imagined the way he’d looked upon her. Had she?

  A shiver wove through Aislinn. Forcing down her anxiety, she rose from the chair by the fire, smoothed her hands over her gown, and headed for his chamber.

  Partway there, she met Gilly, her arms laden with folded garments.

  “Good afternoon, milady.”

  “How is Philippa?” Aislinn asked.

  “Last I saw that sweet child, she was tucked into bed in one of the guest chambers and almost asleep.”

  “Did she eat all that you promised her?”

  The older woman chuckled. “Indeed, she did. Then I ordered a bath for her and scrubbed her from the crown of her head to her littlest toe. I hope you do not mind, milady, but I took in one of the chemises you no longer wear so she would have a proper garment to sleep in.”

  “Of course I do not mind.”

  “Thank you, milady. If you will excuse me, I must put away these clothes and see to a few other matters.”

  Aislinn continued on to Hugh’s chamber. No guards stood watch; there was no longer any need. Standing outside, she sucked in a breath. Raising her hand, she knocked, then opened the door.