Page 8 of A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight’s Tale #3)

W hen Cara woke the next morning, she felt safe, warm, and protected.

She was wrapped in masculine arms and it felt wonderful, until the memory of yesterday came flooding back.

She opened her eyes, half expecting it all to have been a dream, but, of course, it wasn’t.

When she tilted her head, her gaze collided, up close and personal with her nemesis? Her Savior? Her kidnapper? Or Stockholm Syndrome crush?

All of the above.

She definitely felt more like herself, cheerful even, and she was clearly still on the Stockholm side of the syndrome, because looking into Wolfsbane’s green eyes, all she could think was, it could be worse.

Cue her memories of the three men she’d met yesterday.

Much, much worse.

“Good morning,” she said, shoving the memories aside, feeling the need to get off on the right foot today.

In fact, if she had her way, they could have an adult conversation about her freedom, how she could obtain it, perhaps interspersed with a few kisses, because come on, the guy did save her life yesterday.

And he looked absolutely scrumptious this morning with his bright gaze, rumpled hair, and oh, so masculine face.

The fact that she hadn’t kissed him after he’d saved her was a major oversight on her part.

“A good morrow to you, as well,” his voice was as deep as she remembered, and very attractive with his rough accent and foreign way of speaking.

Cue internal sigh here.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Cara.”

“You may call me Wallace.”

Her lips twitched. Well, a kidnapper would need to hide his identity. “All right then, Wallace, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well, Lady Cara.”

When she moved to get up, his grip tightened for a long moment, before he finally let her go.

She almost relented and gave him a cuddle. She’d be this guy’s teddy bear any day of the week.

She bit her lip, unexpectedly shy when it came down to it, and quickly stood and stretched, feeling much better after a good night’s sleep.

They did their back turning thing from the night before, and then she followed him as he went to check his snares.

Two had caught rabbits and she watched as he broke their necks.

Oooh!

She flinched and turned away, and did the same again when he skinned and gutted the tiny creatures.

But when he soon had the fire going again, and the meat cooking, she was once again grateful for him, the fact he was taking care of her, and his presence.

As a city girl, who knew fighting and camping skills would make her heart flutter?

She thought about the dating websites she’d been on over the years, and not once had the mention of either of those skills ever turned her head.

Silly, Cara.

The meat sizzled over the fire, making her stomach rumble.

Now that sense prevailed, and heads were calm, it might be a good time to talk to him about their plans.

She wasn’t sure where he’d been taking her yesterday, but she now trusted him a whole heck of a lot more, and thought maybe they could have an actual conversation.

“What’s the plan for today?” she asked.

He shot her a slightly suspicious look, but she held his gaze and he finally answered. “We will be home before nightfall.”

That sounded encouraging. All of this traipsing about in the woods was definitely not her thing, but if she had to do it, she was glad she’d ended up with him. “Are we rushing, or stopping to smell the roses along the way?”

“Roses?”

“You know, are we going slow, enjoying the journey?”

“Ah, very clever. We shall go at an even pace,” he said, then clarified, “But we shall enjoy any beauty we see along the way.”

She caught herself admiring his tanned, muscled chest, partially revealed by his gaping tunic, saw him watching her doing it, and smiled.

“Anyway,” she said brightly, lowering her gaze, “I ... I’m not sure I said it, but, thank you for what you did yesterday. For saving me.”

Even as she felt gratitude swell once again, she had the conflicting thought that she’d never have been there in the first place, if he hadn’t taken her from Stirling Castle.

Perhaps she really did have Stockholm Syndrome.

“’Tis my pleasure to care for you, my lady.”

Aww. And then he had to go and say something gallant like that. She was a mess.

Still, it sounded as if they’d be at his house today, and though any and all thoughts of skedaddling had fled, especially since she didn’t enjoy the thought of separating at the moment, she’d figure it out when they arrived.

Another day with his arms wrapped around her might be exactly the therapy she needed, and she wasn’t going to beat herself up about it.

She shot him another glance, acknowledged once again she really did find him attractive, and clasped her hands together in front of her.

When he stood, she was quick to do the same, that familiar panic rising.

His smile seemed genuine enough when he held out his hand, and she hurried forward to take it.

“Will you help me into my chain?”

She gave a nod, and between the two of them, they lifted it over his head, settled it in place, and refastened his arm leathers and belt.

She had the sneaking suspicion he didn’t actually need her help, but was unaccountably happy to do it.

So, her life, at the moment, would consist of one minute at a time, and she’d see what came.

* * *

Once they were back on his mount, traveling in the right direction, he saw a new side to his lady.

And yes, he acknowledged, he was thinking of her as his.

She sat forward today, one knee up, the other leg dangling near his own, hazel eyes bright and seeking.

She still seemed to revel in his arms about her, immediately sinking against him once when a deer jumped in their path, before displaying a charming excitement over seeing the creature.

Another time, they’d startled a family of quail, and she’d cooed at the babies, so he’d not had the heart to lift an arrow against their parents.

It seemed that somehow in the space of a day, she’d managed to tame him.

She had a curious way of talking, that by turns charmed, and alarmed him. From the way she spoke, he could tell she’d been much at court, and they did things far differently than he’d envisioned.

Though he had a mother and two sisters to care for, apparently, he’d neglected the opportunity to understand women.

In some ways she made him feel a dullard.

When she spoke of the time spent in New York, he’d not known there was such a place.

He’d been to York, a crowded filthy place, but had not known they’d built a new one. Rather than display his lack of knowledge, he’d simply listened and refrained from comment.

“Have you been to California before?” she started the conversation once more.

He thought for a moment, and decided she would not think him lacking if he admitted he had not. “Nay, where is it exactly?”

“On the West Coast. I grew up near the beach, not too far from Disneyland, and of course, Hollywood was always a big presence. Me and my friends always thought we’d end up on the big screen. Unlike you, I eventually set my sights on working behind the scenes. I knew I wasn’t a good enough actress, but I love to do makeup.”

He blinked, at a loss, before finally saying, “I’m sure you would have excelled in either endeavor.”

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Oh, you’re a charmer, aren’t you?”

Having never been called such a thing in his life, he did not know how to answer. He did not wish to deny it, but was afraid she would find out quickly enough the untruth of such a statement.

Again, he decided silence was his best option.

When she leaned against him, her head on his chest, he was in no hurry to get where they were going.

If he were on his own, he’d continue riding, and eat a piece of jerky on his journey.

With her there, he’d stopped for a meal of oats and jerky, and he’d even gone so far as to scavenge some berries for her pleasure.

He did not know himself, anymore. And worse, did not seem to mind the change.

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do now that I’ve lost my job.”

Had she angered the king or the queen? Lost a position as lady-in-waiting? “Was that why you ran onto the field? Were you in despair?”

Perhaps she did not even know Sir Rupert. He found the idea pleased him.

“I’ll admit I was upset. The director was yelling, someone I considered a friend got me fired, and the guard was scaring me,” she shook her head. “With everything happening, I just had to get away, you know?”

She sank back, seeking comfort? His hand tightened on her waist.

“Anyway, I still don’t remember how I ran in front of your horse. One minute I was running out into the field, you know, the one with the shrine? And the next I thought I was going to die.”

It was amazing how easily he retrieved information from her once he stopped asking. Even as he thought it, he blurted out, “How do you know Sir Rupert Dinsdale?”

She shrugged. “I haven’t met him personally. I’m more in charge of the ladies, most especially Princess Pat.” She glanced back, “Uh ... I mean ... Patrice Levy.”

So, she had served as lady-in-waiting. The gown and jewelry made sense. And yet, the king handed her over to him. He wondered what she’d done to fall from favor.

“Of course, I do know his storyline, or rather, I thought I did.” She twisted to look at him once more. “I thought he was the hero of the piece?”

She was asking him. Asking for his version of events, and he felt almost humbled that she was willing to listen. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“If I am to tell you the truth of it, I will have to start back when my father and Sir Rupert’s father, Lord Paul Dinsdale, served together as young men during the expedition to Poitou. They went on behalf of a young King Henry, intent on helping him reclaim his lands and titles.”

His mouth twisted. “Soldiers and friends, they defended Henry’s rights to the Angevin Empire. They both fought well, and though unsuccessful, were awarded prestigious marriages.”

His hands circled her waist, enjoying the supple feel of her for a moment until he held onto the pommel. She placed her small hand upon his wrist, pulling a tenderness from him as easily as her next breath.

“My father was to marry Lady Helena of Warwickshire, aligning himself with her family. But, Lord Dinsdale was fair and pleasing to look upon, and caught Lady Helena’s heart. They tried an elopement, but were caught by my father.”

“Your father stopped an elopement? How?”

“My lady mother was reminded of her duty.”

She shook her head, scoffed. “Wow. That sounds positively medieval. Did your parents ever fall in love?”

“They were pleased to fulfill their roles.”

“Huh. So, your father and Lord Dinsdale have been enemies ever since?”

“I believe my father was willing to forgive, but they failed to keep the same company, and saw ever less of each other.”

“That’s sad,” Cara murmured, “but it happens like that sometimes. Facebook is nice, but not everyone is on it.”

“Facebook?”

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. So, what happened next?”

“Lord Dinsdale’s feelings festered and he joined forces with several others who wished to see my father discredited, and his lands dispersed.”

“Oh, no! Seriously? I didn’t think this was how the story went. I am going to have to start reading scripts all the way through before filming. If I’m not blackballed.”

He tried to make sense of her words, couldn’t, but was still glad he’d corrected her misperceptions.

“The villains were successful, mostly because my father was unaware of the plot against him. Accused of treachery, false evidence against him was brought before the king, and when he tried to defend his name before God, I believe he was poisoned and unable to defend himself in combat. My lady mother curses the day she met Dinsdale and wishes him dead.”

“Whoa. So, this really happened in the past?”

“Aye.”

“That is so awful. I can’t believe anyone would do that.”

“Believe it,” his tone was clipped as he remembered all that had been taken.

“What a sad story. I would have sworn I heard from Patrice that Rupert Dinsdale was the hero, and you were the villain.”

“I’ve no doubt you have heard such. ’Tis what most believe, even now.”

“Huh. Well, fired or not, I’ll be watching the film, as now I’ll be wondering how it all ends.” She twisted to look at him, smiling. “And can I just say that I love how much you get into your role? The way you just described everything to me from the Wolfsbane point-of-view was amazing.”

Impatience filled him as he tried to decipher her meaning yet again.

He fell silent, but she filled the time, commenting on the scenery, and the goings-on in Hollywood, and he even laughed at one point as she described two ladies vying for the affection of a gentleman, who preferred to remain in a closet.

Such silliness.

But it did keep him from brooding, his foremost occupation in the years since his father’s death.

His spirits lifted, and things seemed brighter with her in his arms.

Before the sun had set, they finally arrived at Wolfsbane Manor.

Cara looked around with interest, and he was suddenly unhappy he could not offer her more.

“This is your home?”

He heard no censure in her tone, but answered her shortly regardless. “Aye, that is the way of it.”

“It’s nice. Big!”

He looked at his home with a fresh eye, trying to see it as she would. A bridge led to the gatehouse and guardrooms, and the main house held but six bedchambers and one solar. The great hall was more than half the size they were used to.

The chapel was new, and he supposed a lady would appreciate such things.

His garrison consisted of five men: two knights, a watchman, and two men-at-arms. He’d not the charge of even one squire.

He wasn’t much impressed.

And where she came from king’s court and castle? He supposed she lied to spare his feelings. No matter. It was her new home now and she’d adjust as they all had.

In the last two days he’d made his decision, and would be posting the banns forthwith. He’d saved her life twice over, and she may not have meant to, but she’d played her part denying him vengeance, and could bear the consequences.

And when he’d successfully won back his honor, name, and holdings, she could share in those as well.

But for now, like the rest of them, his mother and sisters included, his new bride would soon get used to her new circumstances.

* * *

Cara was entranced by the house.

Surrounded by trees, made of soft red brick, it looked like a romantic miniature castle and even had a moat! The building was tall, with pitched roofs, three turrets, a drawbridge, and a battlement tower.

She counted five chimney’s, two dormer windows, and a bell tower. The front windows were arched, and there was a lake in the distance, and wildflowers grew in profusion.

It was simply beautiful.

Guards watched as they crossed the cobblestone bridge and passed underneath the arched entry and into a large square courtyard. A young man came running forward and Wallace threw the boy the reins.

“Pray, forgive me, my lord, I did not see you coming.” The kid, thin, wiry, with long, brown hair sticking to his forehead, looked stricken.

“Do not fash thyself.”

He studied Wallace as if to decide for himself whether his employer was angry or not, and finally nodded his head. “Yes, my lord.”

Cara looked on in wide-eyed silence. Besides being an actor, was Wallace really a lord? Like, English Aristocracy or something? She didn’t want to gawk or look like an American rube, so, a conversation for another time.

She could see no introduction was forthcoming, so she finally said, “Hi, I’m Cara, what’s your name?”

Once again, the boy’s gaze went to Wallace and at his nod, he said, “’Tis Favian, my lady.”

She arched an eyebrow at the title, but when in England, right? Wallace called her that too. “It’s nice to meet you, Favian.”

“Thank you, my lady,”

Wallace did that amazing thing again, where he dismounted with her in his arms and, as per usual, her heart fluttered at his strength.

She grinned at him. She would swear on a stack of bibles there wasn’t a female on the planet who wouldn’t react the same way.

He studied her face, a question in his as he helped her stand for a moment, and she was glad he did as her legs had fallen asleep on the ride.

Wide-eyed, she glanced around at the buildings laid out around the square courtyard, and the people working at different tasks, even as they seemed to watch them.

A good-looking man, muscular, dressed in a nice tunic, and probably in his fifties strode toward them. “About time you showed up. Leaving me to hold down the fort while you go off to find beautiful females.”

Wallace grinned, and it caught her eye, because she hadn’t known he had dimples. A rugged masculine face, short beard, and dimples? So attractive, and so not fair!

“Lady Cara, this is my steward, Sir Gladwin,” Wallace said warmly. “He fought beside my father and has been with our family since before I was born. He was steward at Wolfsbane Castle.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you, my lady,” Sir Gladwin bowed. His thinning gray hair was combed neatly, and he was missing a front tooth, though from the way he smiled, it didn’t seem to bother him.

“How did you fare?” Sir Gladwin asked, still smiling, but he couldn’t hide his concern.

Wallace’s lips tightened and he clapped the other man on the shoulder. “We’ll talk later.”

Sir Gladwin nodded. “Later, then. Thy mother awaits.”

Wallace took Cara’s hand before he was hailed once more. “My lord?”

A priest, dressed in brown robes, a cross at his chest, came out of a chapel on the property. He started in their direction.

“Father Hazleton. Come, there is someone I would have you meet.”

The priest, probably in his mid-forties or so, with a stern face, and just a bit of gray in his dark hair, limped toward them. “Welcome home, Lord Wolfsbane.”

“I trust you are well?”

“Aye, my lord. Getting better every day.”

“Glad to hear it. This is Lady Cara Jones,” Wallace placed a hand on her shoulder.

Cara smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.” She wasn’t sure what the etiquette was, so she didn’t offer her hand.

The priest looked her over, his gaze lingering on her necklace. “You have been baptized? Confirmed?”

“Uh …” Nosy much? “Yes. My father saw to that.”

He nodded. “I will expect to see you both for morning mass.”

“We will be there,” Wallace said.

He nodded, and without another word, the priest walked back toward the chapel.

She glanced at Wallace, eyebrows raised.

“Come,” was all he said, and walked her to what she assumed from the large double doors, was the entrance. One door opened before they reached it.

“Wallace!” Exclaimed a tall, middle-aged blonde. Her gaze flitted between the two of them. “We did not know when to expect you.”

The lady wore a pale green medieval gown, and Cara glanced around to see Favian leading the horse out of the courtyard, talking to Sir Gladwin, and realized their clothes could be period pieces as well.

Was this a tourist attraction?

“We took our time to smell the roses, as it were,” Wallace said, glancing down at Cara. He didn’t smile, but his mention of their earlier conversation warmed her heart.

“Mother, this is Lady Cara Jones. And Cara, this is my mother, Lady Helena of Wolfsbane.”

Lady Helena’s gaze dropped to Cara’s necklace, before she nodded once.

Cara smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“And you, as well, my dear,” Lady Helena said, shooting a questioning glance at her son.

“We’ll put her in Amelia’s room for now,” Wallace said.

“For now?” His mother questioned.

“Yes, for now,” he said firmly.

“If you’ll follow me,” Lady Helena led the way inside.

Cara was reluctant to follow, and, in fact, clung to Wallace’s hand, her chest tightening at the thought of separation.

He gave her a slight smile, and indicated his mother. “I am sure you wish to freshen up, get something to eat, and rest.”

It was an almost physical pain to separate herself from him, but one step at a time, she made herself follow his mother, glancing around as she did so.

The entrance floor was made of stone, and had a couple of pretty tables with vases and doilies on them. A few portraits hung on the wall, and off to her left was a great hall, with tables, huge wall hangings, and a giant fireplace.

She, who was never even star-struck anymore, was more than impressed.

Lady Helena led the way up the steps, and Cara clung to the polished banister as she made her way up the curved staircase.

It felt awkward, following a complete stranger, though she supposed that’s what Wallace essentially was to her as well.

Before they’d even reached the top, she heard giggling coming from down the hall.

They crossed rough wood flooring toward the noise, and Lady Helena stopped in front of a door and opened it.

Two young girls, laughing and chatting, folded laundry, and they stopped short, their eyes widening the moment they saw the two of them.

They both curtsied. “Mother,” the tall blonde said, and the shorter, dark-haired girl quickly followed suit. “Mother.” Both looked at Cara with wide eyes.

“Finish this work, posthaste, and then run downstairs and see if Cook needs any help from you in preparing for tomorrow.”

The words were innocuous enough, but the tone seemed harsher than required.

Both girls dipped another curtsy. Mother, apparently satisfied, moved on.

Down the hall, Lady Helena opened a door on her right. “This is my eldest daughter’s room, but for now she can sleep with her sister.”

The sharpness was gone from her tone, but she was still quite stern. Cara resisted the urge to curtsy, as she didn’t want to encourage the woman to send her downstairs to see if Cook needed help. “Thank you,” was all she said.

Lady Helena proceeded into the room, and bent to the fireplace. Lighting a taper from the embers, she lit two candles sitting on the nearby bureau.

Cara glanced around. There was a bed, a wardrobe, a chair, and a heavy curtain pushed to one side of a glassless window opening. Wooden shutters opened to the late summer night. A red and gold hand-knotted rug graced the floor, and there was a small, landscape painting hanging nearby.

She glanced up to see there were no light fixtures, and then at the wall beside the door, to see there was no switch.

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. It was lovely, but all in all, pretty primitive.

Lady Helena pulled one of the drawers open. “Here is an extra gown that should fit, and some nightclothes,” she indicated folded bundles of clothing in the drawer before snapping it shut.

She straightened and folded her hands together. “I will send up a birch stick for your teeth, the servants will bring you water to wash with, and do you require sustenance or can you wait until the morn?”

The sharpness entered her tone again, and Cara, still caught on birch stick? was almost tempted to agree, that yes, she could wait, but she was starving and didn’t want to go searching for a kitchen later.

“Something to eat would be great.”

“Very well, I will see you in the morn.”

With another glance at Cara’s necklace, that was that, apparently, because Lady Helena was out the door, and snapping it shut behind her without another word.

Cara glanced at the candles, fireplace, and spartan room. It was a minimalist’s dream.

A girl dressed as a medieval servant brought some bread, cheese, and ale which tasted like heaven. Another followed with water and a birch stick.

She ate, drank, and washed up before laying her dirty, wrinkled gown over the only chair and getting into the sleepwear which turned out to be a long, white nightgown.

She tried to take the necklace off, but no luck. She finally gave it up.

She actually tried brushing her teeth with the stick, softened on one end, but finally bailed after digging it into her cheek one time too many.

The sun was down, and she blew out the candles and crawled into bed. She sank into its softness, but had to move a few times to get comfortable, as the necklace dug into her neck, and it felt as if the mattress was probably stuffed with hay or something, and she was getting poked.

So not just minimalists, but maybe Amish or Quakers or something? She had no idea if they had those in England, or if this was going to turn out to be some sort of equivalent.

She moved around to get comfortable, and then finally released a long breath and let her body relax. She was actually feeling disappointed.

As weird at their beginning had been, over the last two days, anticipation, and a hope for something more with Wallace had blossomed within her.

Long distance relationships were a thing, right?

She turned over and sighed deeply once again. She knew herself enough to know this wasn’t the life for her. A Hollywood party-girl and a Quaker?

It sounded like a movie cliché.

Sad to say, the two just wouldn’t mix, and she was pragmatic enough to accept it.

That didn’t mean she had to like it, was her last thought before she drifted off to sleep.