Page 9 of A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight’s Tale #3)

W allace finished talking to his steward, Sir Gladwin, and had barely seated himself at one of the chairs in front of the fire, when his mother stormed into the great hall.

Not that it was much of a great hall. It had the requisite furniture, tables and benches, but as it was the smallest of the estates their family owned, they’d once considered it no more than a country home.

It was regrettable he’d not thought to fill it full of their riches, before much that they possessed had been confiscated.

She stopped in front of him, blocking the fire, and asked, “Well?”

He wasn’t sure if she referred to the outcome of his aborted battle with Sir Rupert, or the beautiful Lady Cara.

“Well, what?”

“What happened? Who is the girl?”

He shouldn’t be irritated with the one person who had lost as much as he, or even more.

“Please, sit.”

She quickly sat, and he nodded toward the two servants stacking tables and setting up sleeping pallets in preparation of nightfall. “Out.”

They scurried out of the room and closed the doors, leaving them alone.

“I had him exactly where I wished, Mother.” His fist clenched at the remembrance of it.

“What happened?” His mother’s face filled with pain.

“Both kings awaited the outcome. I believe King Henry was unhappy the joust took place, but after agreeing in court last month before witnesses, I believe he felt he could not back down.”

His mother leaned closer. “And then?” She almost whispered the words.

“The joust had begun, when a lady appeared before my steed. I was focused upon Sir Rupert, and almost did not see her, but instinctively pulled up at the last moment, and she was saved.”

She sat back. “The female upstairs?” she glanced at the ceiling.

“Aye.”

“You called foul?”

“Aye. The king would hear none of it. Was glad of the excuse to cancel the joust, the only reparation, giving the girl to me.”

Anger filled her face. “What sort of reparation might that be, pray tell?”

He shrugged. “I no longer blame her. She was chased upon that field, most likely at the behest of Lord Dinsdale. Yet more treachery.”

They sat in silence for a long while. Finally, his mother said, “So, we are to yield? This,” she raised her arms indicating the house, “is how we are to live, the inheritance we pass to your children?”

“Nay, I will never yield. We will simply regroup, and try again.”

He looked at his mother. “Newcastle is as close as I might get to the king again this year. I believe I should go.”

His mother, hands rubbing her temples, sighed wearily and actually sank back in her chair. “Aye. ’Tis a good idea. It would also give your sisters a chance to be seen.”

He’d never witnessed his mother unbend her spine in such a way before, and it echoed his own flagging emotions.

He’d thought to go alone, but she had the right of it. The girls needed to marry, and with so many attending, he’d not deny them this opportunity socialize.

Mayhap he’d leave Cara behind. He’d have to think on it.

“Somehow, someway, we will find a way to recover what is rightfully ours.” He moved, the latent muscles in his body clenching and hardening as he voiced this conviction.

He would. He was determined. He would not surrender their family honor until the last breath left his body.

* * *

Cara woke to the unpleasant sensation of someone staring at her.

Her lids fluttered and she found herself looking directly into the eyes of a stranger, a teenage girl sporting odd-looking ringlets on both sides of her head.

Cara sat quickly, assuming she was needed to do the girl’s makeup for an upcoming scene, and the mattress beneath her crinkled in a peculiar way.

The young girl jumped back with a startled, “Oh.”

Memory flooded, disorienting her, and she sifted through thoughts of the necklace, losing her job, and traveling with Wallace.

This was Wallace’s home.

They’d arrived here after she’d been fired, kidnapped, run away, and attacked. Wallace had saved her. She’d slept in his arms.

And she’d never gotten that kiss she’d been after. The thought, in the midst of all the others, made her blink.

Something was just wrong with her.

She stared at the girl.

“You’re not going to scream, are you?” the girl asked.

She looked so alarmed, Cara had the sudden urge to laugh. Instead, she offered a wide smile. “Nope, not planning to scream. What about you?”

At that, the girl grinned widely. “Not at all. ’Tis simply I heard Wallace brought you home with him. And Mother told me I was not allowed to see you so, of course, I came forthwith.”

“Of course. How old are you?”

“Sixteen summers.”

Cara pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “Well, that explains it then, doesn’t it?”

“Explains what?”

“That you did exactly the opposite of what your mother asked.”

The girl giggled. “I believe I like you.”

Cara chuckled. “Good, because I like you just fine.”

“You’ve a different way of speech.”

“That’s because I’m from America.”

“Where?”

“America. You know, jump in an airplane at bedtime, cross the ocean, and you’ll be there for breakfast.”

The girl looked at her blankly.

“Seriously?”

When the girl’s look turned expectant, Cara shook her head. “Never mind. Do you happen to know where Wallace is?”

“Why do you wish to know?” The wide-eyed girl looked as if she waited to hear a juicy piece of gossip.

Since Cara was well rested, and therefore, back to her normal teasing self, she obliged. “Because, I need to find him so I can kiss him senseless until he doesn’t remember his own name.”

The girl’s reaction didn’t disappoint. She gasped, her hands flew to her cheeks which flushed with color and she laughed. “If Mother heard you say so, you would be in such trouble.”

Cara grinned. “Then we’ll keep it our little secret, won’t we?”

The girl’s mouth dropped slightly, as if she considered the notion, and then her lips tilted in a charming grin. “I would wish to say I would keep such a secret, but chances are fine I will not.”

Cara laughed. “I like your honesty. I think we’ll get along just great. Now, who are you exactly?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I did not think to say.” She dipped into a quick curtsy. “I am Lady Amelia of Wolfsbane.”

“You’re Wallace’s sister?”

“I am.”

In the spirit of when in Rome, do as Romans do, Cara slid off the bed, put one toe behind her, and dipped into a curtsy, emulating the other girl quite well, she thought. “I am Lady Cara Jones, of Huntington Beach.”

Introductions over, the girl reached forward to clasp Cara’s hands. “We are to be sisters, are we not? You are to marry my brother, Wallace?”

Now it was Cara’s turn to gape. “Sorry, what? Not that I’m aware of.”

The girl stepped back, pressed both hands to her mouth, and giggled. “He has not asked for thy hand yet? Please accept my apologies, I did warn that I am quite unable to keep secrets, though my mother will no doubt think of the most terrible chores if she hears I gossiped. Please, pray tell, forget I said aught, and you can pretend surprise when Wallace asks for your hand. Are you not going to morning prayers?”

“Sure.”

The other girl curtsied several times, and fled the room.

Wallace was planning to ask her to marry him?

That was just bizarre. They’d only known each other two days, though they had been through a lot together, and her first thought was to seek him out and kiss him. But marriage?

Good grief.

Still shaking her head, she noticed her gown was missing and dug out one of the dresses Lady Helena said she could borrow.

It fit well enough, it’s slim-fit bodice emphasizing her shape, and had pretty embroidery along the neckline. She added a rope belt, and glanced around for a mirror, didn’t find one, and decided she needed to find a bathroom.

She slipped into her shoes, brushed her hair, and tied it back with a ribbon before heading into the hall and glancing both ways. The darkness of the corridor was decidedly gloomy.

There weren’t any light fixtures, only a window on the far end offering a minimal glow, and some light spilling up the stairs.

These guys enjoyed roughing it. She opened a couple of doors which revealed dismal bedrooms, until the third revealed Lady Helena, sitting on a chair, getting her hair done by a maid.

They both turned, and heat rose in Cara’s face. “I …” she stuttered. “I’m so sorry, I was just looking for the bathroom.”

“You require a bath?” Lady Helena’s brows arched.

“I wasn’t actually looking to bathe, I mean, I guess I could use a shower, but I was, you know, looking for the facilities.”

Both women looked blank. Finally, Lady Helena said, “Was there not a chamber pot under your bed?”

Of course, Cara knew what a chamber pot was but ... her mouth parted as she tried to be accepting of their way of life.

She’d been going in the woods for the last couple of days, and had no desire to continue the practice indoors, in a pot, before shoving it under her bed.

That was just nasty.

“I didn’t look actually. Isn’t there a bathroom? Or I guess even an outhouse?”

The maid put the finishing touches on Lady Helena’s hair, and the woman stood, folding her hands in front of her.

“There is a garderobe, of course, and you are welcome to use it, though ’tis for communal use. Most ladies prefer their own necessary.”

Cara bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, because she’d been certain Lady Helena was going to say pot to piss in.

She still thought she might prefer a hole to squat over, versus a pot under the bed. She was, after all, used to portable toilets on movie sites. How much worse could the horrors of an indoor outhouse be? “Which way to the garderobe?”

Lady Helena sniffed as if Cara were being ridiculous. “Down at the end of the hallway.”

Cara went on her merry way to the end of the hallway, opened the door, and after one deep inhale, determined to breathe as shallowly as possible as she got through this next trial.

Okay, this was worse. Apparently, portable toilets had some sort of ventilation system the people here hadn’t bothered to install.

But, get through it she did, emerging to shut the door and put her latest grueling experience behind her.

She traveled the dark hallway once again, and down the stairs that led to the first floor, where the open doors and bigger windows let in more light.

She’d been pretty wiped the night before, and hadn’t noticed all the details, such as the wall sconces using real candles, the details on the tapestries, or the industrious servants running hither and thither.

She followed two women who looked as if they knew where they were going and ended up outside, like a lemming, following the crowd.

Amelia found her and tugged her forward to join Lady Helena to stand up front as they packed into the small chapel where Father Hazleton stood before an altar.

He sang Latin in a nice, baritone voice. He spoke about a saint, some sort of confessor of faith, led them in a really long prayer, mostly about acts of contrition and repentance, and purgatory.

His assistant sang next.

Following the example of those around her, she held her hands in prayer, bowed her head, and made the sign of the cross.

As they left, she was separated from Lady Helena, and she turned back to see Father Hazleton watching her.

Regardless of the warm summer morning, a shiver went down her spine.

* * *

She ended up in the great room and glanced around at the long tables, candelabras, beamed ceilings, and the large fireplace with a stone mantel set along one wall.

The room was full of people eating breakfast, others served food, there were several sitting around chairs by the fire, and Wallace himself stood at the far end, speaking with a man much shorter than himself, who nodded at everything Wallace said.

A sense of relief swept through her and she immediately started toward him, ignoring the curious stares directed her way. In fact, it wasn’t her imagination that every single person she passed turned to watch. Even Wallace stopped his conversation at her approach.

He gave a slight bow, a courtesy he’d not bestowed before, and, with a smile and a dip of her head, she curtsied in response.

As she faced him, a myriad of emotions rushed through her. Happiness to see him, memories of their time together, a bit of elation at the thought of him asking her to marry him. His apparent infatuation left her feeling giddy.

Not that she’d accept his proposal, but it was flattering.

She could feel his gaze, and another rush of excitement flooded her. Was this hero worship? Because she’d spent so much time in his arms? Because she found him so attractive? Out of nowhere, she felt herself blushing.

“Lady Cara, I trust you slept well,” Wallace’s voice, deep and rumbly, made her heart flutter.

The man was driving her insane.

She took a breath to get hold of herself. “I did, thank you.” She’d actually slept the night through, regardless of the mattress. Perhaps the sheer amount of darkness had knocked her out.

“I have waited to break my fast with you.”

She smiled. “Oh, you’re a sweetie!”

His gaze lit up, and he held out his arm.

She took it, his compelling warmth familiar and enticing as he led her to the table.

The servants set down warm damp towels, and she copied Wallace and washed her hands.

Next, they served bowls of oatmeal, and set a platter between them with eggs, meat, and apples. She was once again struck by the simplicity of their lives.

She picked up her spoon and tasted the oatmeal. Delicious. “You know, I never asked how you won that job in Hollywood? I mean, you’re one of the main characters, so it can’t have been your first rodeo. So,” she waved her spoon, indicating his home, “how does this type of lifestyle fit in with all the glitz and glamour?”

He spooned food off the plate between them, serving her, and then himself. Finally, he said, “At times you are difficult to comprehend.”

Was he implying his reasons were so obvious she should easily understand? Her shoulders hunched a bit. All right, so maybe she hadn’t been raised as simply as him, but that didn’t make him some sort of Gandhi.

He was an actor, for heaven’s sake. In the same industry as she was. Amish and actors didn’t seem as if they’d mix. It was a legitimate question.

She gave a slight shrug and took a bite of scrambled eggs.

After a moment, he asked, “Have I offended you?”

She’d never been that person, the one who was easily insulted, so she determinedly shrugged it off. “It’s all good.”

“The food?” He looked so confused she laughed. “Yes, the food is good. I’m good. Everything is good.”

“Ah,” he said, though he still looked baffled enough that it amused her, and her annoyance melted away.

They were joined by Lady Helena, the girl she’d met earlier, and a younger girl, probably another sister, as there was a family resemblance to Wallace.

They sat on the bench across from them.

Some of the diners finished eating and left, and others sat down. They all acted as if it was normal to basically have a restaurant in their house.

No one around her spoke, so she looked between Wallace’s family. It was time to lighten the atmosphere.

She didn’t want to give away the girl who’d come to her room earlier, so Amelia was out.

One look at Lady Helena’s cool expression, and she knew they’d have nothing to talk about.

She still felt a little weird about Wallace’s refusal to respond to her question, so not him.

She looked at the youngest sister, a girl of about fourteen or so, and smiled. “Hi, I’m Cara.”

The young girl looked excited to have been addressed, and piped up, “I am Lady Doris.”

“Does everyone call you Dori?”

She shook her head.

“Do you mind if I do?”

This time she smiled and nodded.

Lady Helena said to her youngest daughter. “Finish your meal and stop thy jabbering.”

That comment was probably more directed toward Cara, but she couldn’t get herself to care.

She glanced at Amelia, who looked between her and Wallace, as if expecting something to happen.

To amuse the girls, and herself, she wrapped her hands around his left arm and said, “And maybe I could call you Wally?”

He stared in horror. “You will do no such thing.”

“Wally of Wolfsbane,” she teased. “I think it has a nice ring to it.”

He gave her a dangerous look. “If you persist, I will find a tedious task for you to accomplish until you are too tired for jesting.”

She laughed, but let it, and him, go. She noticed several in the crowd looking askance and realized what little conversation there was, was spoken in low tones.

Most simply ate and then got up and left, off to do whatever it was they did.

There were an awful lot of folks in this manor.

It reminded her of a movie set, with far too many people running here and there, and you always had to wonder what exactly it was they were doing.

“What sort of work does everyone do here?”

She caught Lady Helena taking a good look at her necklace, before the other woman answered. “Whatever task we set before them, and they do it well.”

That was a non-answer, something Cara was familiar with, having worked on many a Hollywood set.

If you didn’t commit to being in charge, you could share the blame with others when something went wrong.

Amelia and Dori looked between her and their mother and Amelia desperately appeared to want to say something.

Cara gave her an encouraging smile.

“There have not always been so many here. ’Tis just that ever since —”

“Amelia! You will mind your tongue, and are excused from the table. Take your sister, and thyself to the sewing room.”

Amelia hung her head, and Cara felt sorry for the girl. She was at an age where she wanted to be independent, but was still under her mother’s thumb.

She remembered those days well. Mom, a partner in a law firm, had been proud of Cara’s social skills, but hadn’t known what to do about her flightiness, and had often despaired of her learning what she considered basic skills.

Like math. Ha!

Her mom had done her best through Cara’s teen years, but their personalities were so different, they’d clashed on almost every level while her mother tried to groom her for law school, and Cara played with makeup and texted boys.

After she’d finished her liberal arts degree, and had gotten her first job, Mom resigned herself and they’d gotten along much better.

If she was here long enough, she could give Amelia a few pointers on how to deal with a frustrated mother who only had her best interests at heart.

She turned to Wallace. “What are your plans for the day?”

He looked a little surprised at the question, but finally said, “There is much to be done.”

“Like what, exactly?”

He scowled.

She glanced around the room with its huge fireplace, tables, stone floor, and beams. “I mean, I get your family is into the whole minimalist thing, and believe me I can appreciate that. If you knew how small my workspaces can be on set, you’d be amazed at some of the things I give up so I can have more room for my tools. I definitely respect what you’re doing here, and I’m sure you’re super busy.”

Neither of them responded, and the silence started to get uncomfortable. “Anyway, if you can’t give me a lift, I’m hoping you’ve got a phone, or a computer, or something I can contact a friend with, and hopefully get a ride? I’m sure the sooner I’m out of your hair, the better.”

Wallace and his mother exchanged a look.

“There is much I would discuss with you,” he said to Cara.

There was an undercurrent of some kind and she remembered the marriage proposal. Her smile wavered. Still, it could be a starting point to discuss them staying in touch. “All right.”

Lady Helena glanced around and gave Wallace an exasperated look. “For privacy’s sake, perhaps it would be best if we meet in your room.”

He stood and held out a hand to Cara.

She took it, and he didn’t release her, falling back into the old pattern they’d established in the woods.

Last night she’d wanted to end their budding relationship. But today, perhaps not. He wasn’t just a minimalist. He was also an actor, part of the Hollywood culture, same as her. A girl could change her mind.

When she left this place, she was sort of hoping they could keep in touch. Maybe exchange phone numbers, text messages, flirty phone calls. She certainly wasn’t opposed to seeing where this attraction between them might go.

He released her hand to let her go up the stairs first, his mother followed, and he brought up the rear.

As she didn’t know where to go, she waited until Lady Helena led the way down the hallway in the opposite direction from where Cara slept last night.

Lady Helena opened a large, arched, wooden door and went inside.

A huge tapestry was pulled back from an open, glassless window. Wooden shutters, opened to the weather, let some sunlight in, though the room was still on the shadowy side.

Now that she thought about it, she didn’t think there was glass in any of the windows.

But, no judgment on her part. She recycled too. If these guys wanted to leave a smaller footprint from their time on earth, they had her full support.

Wallace shut the door and indicated the two women sit on a bench near the foot of the bed.

The bed was a work of art. A four-poster, with light curtains, large pillows, and an incredible homemade quilt.

She dutifully took a seat beside Lady Helena, and waited for Wallace to speak.

In their world, with the Amish-type deal they had going on, Wallace might think it was acceptable to let his mother witness his proposal.

She took a deep breath, striving for serenity. Even though she hadn’t known him long enough to accept such an offer, she’d let him down gently. And definitely stay friends. Who was to say more wouldn’t come of that?

She clasped her hands together on her lap, and looked up at Wallace expectantly.