Page 19 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

A nother recruit, another meal.

Evelina had a mind to claim a headache and would have done so if dealing with her father would not have actually given her one.

Ashcroft Manor, the smallest of the Ashcroft properties but Evelina’s favorite, boasted only a small hall capable of hosting perhaps thirty guests.

The largest of her father’s properties could hold three hundred, but Evelina always found their northern castle cold and drafty, and though she and her father did not agree on much, spending much of their time here was one exception.

At least, it had been until the Guardians formed. Now, for more than four summers, she and the staff at Ashcroft Manor were forced to play host for each and every new recruit.

“Daughter,” her father boomed as the hall came into view. “Come, quickly.”

Sighing, though not loudly enough for him to notice, she stood by her father’s side at the entrance to the hall.

He insisted they greet all guests this way, and with a small staff of only six or so servants, who even now began to carry jugs of water and pitchers of ale to their table, she and her father were quite conspicuous.

Their steward, Cuthbert, opened the great doors, Evelina having arrived just in time.

She could not see their guests yet but could hear voices and the sound of the manor doors closing.

Cuthbert appeared first, Lord Stirling behind him.

It was difficult not to notice the infamous archer, now an instructor at Blackwood, with his eye patch quite prominent.

Next to him stood his constant companion, Sir Eamon.

It was those two who had trained the first of the Guardians’ recruits, and sometimes it felt as if the men were her uncles rather than her father’s friends.

“You should not have to be told to straighten your back, Evie,” her father whispered.

In response, she pushed her chest out even farther, making the low cut of her gown more conspicuous than it had been already.

“Evie,” her father warned.

“Just doing what you asked, Father.”

While she’d concealed her sigh, Evelina’s father did not. If he was frustrated with her, perhaps he should stop attempting to govern every single move she made.

With his white, neatly trimmed beard and red-and-gold-trimmed surcoat, her father made a handsome figure even if he did command everything about Evelina, including her stature.

They did not look at all alike, and sometimes Evelina wondered if he truly was her father or just some man who raised and tolerated her.

“Greetings,” he boomed now to their guests.

Smiling at Sir Eamon, her favorite of all those at Blackwood despite his stern countenance and grizzly appearance that frightened most others, she was about to step forward...and then stopped.

Their final guest, the esteemed tourney knight, Sir Gareth, moved out from behind Eamon.

He was, without any question at all, easily the most handsome man Evelina had ever looked upon.

With a defined jawline and eyes that could fell a woman simply by their unwavering gaze, his face was almost too perfect.

Dark hair to his shoulders, dressed in a black and silver surcoat, he appeared fit to grace a royal court but kindly enough to belong in a hall much less esteemed than that.

It was his smile that made him so attractive.

Reaching his eyes, which crinkled ever so slightly at the corners, his smile was all at once warm and deadly, welcoming but also holding a warning.

She had no doubt this man’s reputation was warranted.

He was, most extraordinary of all, somehow different from all the others. Confident, aye, like most of them, but lacking the swagger that so put her off from most of the recruits that had graced their hall.

“I would introduce,” Sir Eamon was saying, “our newest recruit, Sir Gareth Claymore of Fenwall. Your host, Baron Ashcroft, and his daughter, Lady Evelina.”

Sir Gareth moved in front of her first, as was proper. Taking her offered hand, his fingers warm and magnificent, he bowed to her and placed his lips ever so gently onto her hand.

“A pleasure,” he said, his voice low and gentlemanly, “Lady Evelina.”

Much too soon, his lips, and his hand, were gone.

Her hand had been kissed in such a way by so many men, but never, not once, had her body come alive as it had just done.

Evelina wanted nothing more than to run from the hall’s entrance, find Amalia, and ask her if this was how it happened.

Her maid had been with a man before—two in fact—and she’d given her virginity precisely because “I am a farmer’s daughter and the only advantage to such a station is the ability to give in to your heart’s desire. ”

At the time, she thought her maid mad. To bed a man she did not intend to marry? It was not only Evelina but the law, and the church, that forbid it. But Amalia did not apologize for neither wanting to marry nor giving herself to a man anyway.

Finally, she understood.

“Welcome to Ashcroft Manor, Sir Gareth,” her father said.

“Come, dine with us. Lord Stirling,” he added by way of greeting.

As the men moved forward into the hall, Eamon fell behind with her.

Her father rarely greeted Sir Eamon. There was no doubt he did not care for the man, even though they’d been in each other’s presence many times, but Evelina could not understand why as he was one of her favorite people in all the world.

“You look lovely this eve, my lady.”

“As do you,” she teased. Evelina was certain the word “lovely” had never been used to describe Eamon before. No matter his clothing, it nearly always appeared to her as if Eamon were about to step onto a training field or into battle.

“Ah, well, I cannot help as much. God graced me with a fair appearance, and ’tis a fact I must live with.”

She smiled. Fair. Another word most would not use to describe him, but Evelina adored the man’s quiet wit even if he showed it to few people.

The word could be used to describe the knight, however. Stealing a glance as they made their way to the table, she watched as Sir Gareth easily charmed her father, who laughed at something the young knight said.

“He is as honorable as he is skilled.”

Eamon had noticed her looking. If there was one person who hoped to see her married more than her father, it was Eamon. The man never ceased his matchmaking, even knowing neither of them would have a choice in her husband.

“Eamon,” she warned. But her warning went unheard as they reached the table.

Since their party was small, both she and her father would dine with their guests rather than at the head table.

Sitting directly across from him would make it difficult to ignore the man.

That she wasn’t sure if she wanted to do so—ignore him—was even odder still.

Looking at Sir Gareth was not a hardship by any means. In fact, she was doing just that as the first of their meal was delivered, and he noticed. Holding her gaze, the knight addressed her for the first time since their greeting.

“Tell me something of yourself, my lady.”

“What do you wish to know?” she asked, her father and Lord Stirling engaging in a debate over some other new recruit and Eamon simply watching them.

“Do you have any sibling here at Ashcroft Manor?”

“I do not. ’Tis my father and I alone. Do you, Sir Gareth? Have siblings?”

“I’ve two older brothers,” he replied.

“Are they tourney knights as well?”

The others finished their discussion and listened as Sir Gareth spoke.

He might be younger than her father and the instructors, perhaps the same age as she and certainly he’d not seen thirty summers, but Sir Gareth demanded attention when he spoke.

He was polished in a way that the other recruits, even sons of great earls, were not.

He was not at all what she expected from a great tourney champion.

Not pompous and self-serving at all. At least, he did not appear so.

“Nay, my lady. They are not.”

“Sir Gareth’s father is a great man,” Lord Stirling said. “A supporter from the start who paid the ultimate price for it.”

Though all here at Ashcroft knew of the Guardians, neither the name Lady Maude, nor Empress Matilda, nor the names of her family members were ever spoken aloud in the hall.

Years of secrecy had been upheld, since the Guardians of the Sacred Oak formed, but all were aware of the price they’d pay if the order were discovered.

“The ultimate price?” she asked. “Did he lose a family member in battle?”

“Perhaps not the ultimate price,” Sir Gareth said. “For we lost nothing but our lands and titles.”

“Ones you will have restored,” Evelina’s father said, as if he had the authority himself to accomplish such a feat.

“It is my greatest desire,” Sir Gareth said as they began to fill their plates. “To restore my family name.”

“Precisely how we lured him here,” Eamon said with a very rare wink. The man scowled more often than he did not, though she knew much of it was to uphold a reputation. He was softer on the inside than anyone she knew.

“How did these two convince you to come?” she asked.

If her father and the others looked at her strangely, there was no help for it.

Aye, she usually did not speak so much when they welcomed recruits.

Most had already asked for her hand in marriage by now, either by reputation or upon first meeting her, well before they knew Evelina at all. So she did little to encourage them.

Typically.

“’Twas not difficult for them to do so when they told me of the cause, as Lord Stirling said.”

“I am sorry to learn of your misfortune,” she said, lifting a wine glass to her lips. Taking a sip, Evelina allowed the conversation to flow around her. As usual, her father asked questions of the new recruit, all of which he answered amicably.

At one point, as the meal progressed, he looked at her.

It was brief, and though she’d felt appreciative gazes from men many times before, Evelina’s heart raced now even as she tamped down such thoughts.

As often as Eamon attempted to fan the flames between her and some of the recruits who had graced their halls, her father had discouraged it.

She was to be betrothed to the Lady Maude’s son.

At least, that was her father’s most fervent wish—that his backing of the Guardians, which would no doubt be successful in one day restoring her to the throne, would gain enough favor to see his only daughter wed to Henry Fitzempress and become the future queen of England.

A misguided dream, of that she was certain. But it served Evelina well for now, as it allowed her to remain unwed.

Such thoughts filled her head until Evelina’s father startled her as the meal wound down.

“Do you play chess, Sir Gareth?”

“I do,” he said as her father stood.

“Very good. My daughter is passing fair at it as well. I have a matter of some concern to address with you both,” he said to the instructors. “Evie?”

She took his cue and stood as well.

“I would be pleased if you would join me,” she said, indicating the seats near the corner of the hall where a fire raged. Though it was late spring, the keep always remained cool, courtesy of its stone walls, despite tapestries that adorned every wall. “For a game of chess.”

“Nothing would give me as much pleasure as doing so, my lady.”

Since the others had already taken their mugs and walked away from the table, his hushed words were for her ears alone.

Their eyes met.

This time, she had no doubt of his interest. But there still remained one difference between Sir Gareth’s gaze and that of the many others that had come before him.

She returned it.