Page 41 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

E ach day was the same.

Glorious. A life Evelina could gladly endure. Waking up in Gareth’s arms, breaking their fast, strolling about town, another meal. They talked and laughed and tried to forget this was only a temporary life. A placeholder life until their future could begin.

So far, there had been no word from Eamon. Since they were little more than a half day’s ride away, she and Gareth agreed it was surprising to have received no word.

“Try this?”

“Nay,” Evelina said. They sat at a table belowstairs at the same inn where they stayed. It was late for a meal. They’d been to the blacksmith, and Gareth had not wanted to leave his sword while it was cleaned and sharpened. “You know I dislike cabbage.”

“Try it anyway. Maybe this is the first cabbage you’ll enjoy.”

She did not think it would be so, but she did try it. And swallowed, against her better judgment.

Gareth laughed. “I’ve never met a maid who disliked so many varieties of foods.”

That made her think. “How many maids have you known?”

The twinkle in his eye told Evelina he would be teasing her.

“There is my mother, of course. And I’ve three aunts, all of whom will adore you. And then?—”

“Gareth,” she interrupted. “That is not what I meant.”

He took a bite of roasted pork. “I know precisely what you meant, wife. But I will not be speaking of any other woman in that way from this day until the day I die.”

“Sweet words that little answer my question.”

He ignored her. “I have a question for you.”

“Even though you’ve not answered mine? You are a slippery one, Gareth.”

“I take that as a compliment, love.”

“Except, it wasn’t meant as one.”

Gareth smiled. “Tell me something of you I do not know.”

Though he did not answer her, Evelina could admit she perhaps might not want to know. So she allowed herself to be led to a different topic of conversation.

“Something you do not know,” she repeated. “I have a mark on my lower back that appears as if it is a crescent moon.”

Gareth finished chewing. “Do you? I shall verify such information myself this eve.”

The thought of it sent a chill up Evelina’s back.

Each morn, and night, Gareth had shown her something new.

Together, they continued to explore each other’s bodies, each day Evelina less shy with him.

Like the man himself, Gareth’s lovemaking was both strong and gentle.

One moment he tossed her on the bed, the muscles in his arms flexing, his strength evident.

Then next, he kissed her with all the reverence in the world, making her feel as if she was the only thing that mattered.

Which, of course, was not true.

At times, when a shadow passed across his face, she wished to ask him why. Unfortunately, Evelina thought she knew already.

She took a sip of ale. “I very much look forward to it,” she said.

He winked. Evelina loved when he did that.

“Gareth?” she ventured, unsure how to begin.

“Aye, wife?”

Chuckling, the moniker one she was not yet accustomed to, she tried to find the words.

“Evie, you know there is naught you cannot ask me?”

“I do,” she said. “’Tis just that, at times, I can see the worry on your face. Will you tell me why?”

He pushed his trencher away, finished with the meal. Sitting back, he grabbed the mug in front of him and looked at her.

“I worry most for you. If your father . . . Lord Ashcroft . . . does not accept the marriage, you will have lost everything.”

“Nay.” She shook her head. “I will have lost nothing of importance.”

“You would be the wife of a tourney player, our home not one at all. It is not a life suitable for children, but I know no other. I’d hoped...” He stopped.

This was what she most wanted to know. “Go on. What did you hope?”

Gareth took a swig of ale. “I’d hope to redeem my family’s name as one of the Guardians of the Sacred Oak. Without them, I am nothing more than a man who can wield a lance well.”

“If Matilda retakes the throne, surely you and your family will be rewarded for your exploits at Lincoln Castle?”

“Perhaps. It is the most I can hope for, but I still worry for your future as my wife.”

She thought on his words. “If I bring no land or property to this marriage but we are able to live on the road, traveling from tourney to tourney, so be it. I would much prefer that to the alternative.”

Evelina could tell Gareth did not fully believe her. Somehow, she had to prove the truth of her words to him. Before she could do so, Gareth sat up straight, obviously recognizing someone. She spun around to see two men walking toward him. They looked familiar, but she could not place either one.

“Married,” one of the two men said, smiling. They sat, one beside her and the other beside Gareth. Now that they were closer, she recognized both as recruits but could not place either of their names.

“Lady Evelina,” said the second man, sitting beside her. “I would congratulate you on your marriage, but I’m not yet convinced Gareth as a husband is worthy of it.”

“Since you likely have forgotten him,” Gareth said to her, “Sir Roland de Vere is sitting beside you. Too close,” he added, “beside you.”

“Of course,” Evelina remembered. “Your father is the Lion of Ravensbrook.”

“Ohh,” the man beside Gareth said. “You might not wish to mention his father. Roland is ever in the man’s shadow and sensitive on the subject.”

She could tell he jested. “You are Sir Alden,” she guessed, not remembering his name from Ashford but knowing by his manner that this was Gareth’s closest friend at Blackwood.

More like Gareth in temperament, more humble certainly than Sir Roland, and his eyes were kindly.

It was easy to see why he and Gareth got on so well.

“I am,” he said, grabbing Gareth’s trencher. There was little meat left, but it seemed Alden did not mind. “Congratulations on your recent attainment of such a fine young knight for a husband.”

“So are you unworthy, as Sir Roland seems to believe?” she asked Gareth. “Or a fine husband, as your friend Sir Alden says?”

“That is for you to discern, my love.”

“My love.” Roland laughed. “You rarely call me as such.” He clutched his chest. “I am wounded.”

“You are much as Gareth described you,” she said to her companion.

He was just the sort of man she avoided .

. . devilishly handsome, full of confidence—too much of it, in fact.

Evelina was sure many women had fallen in love with the man, but none were likely to have their hearts left intact by him.

“Easy to look at. Charming. How else did he describe me?”

“I believe he used...” She paused, intentionally. “Other words than those.”

All three men laughed as the serving maid brought two ales and asked the newcomers if they wished to eat. Evelina caught Gareth’s gaze across the table. Once again, he winked.

“So have you come solely to besmirch my name?” Gareth asked Roland as the serving maid walked away.

“Nay.” His tone changed, causing Evelina immediate concern. “Though we do bring news.”

As expected.

“Tell us.”

Alden thanked the maid, who gave both him and Roland mugs and filled them with ale. “He refuses to accept the marriage.”

“He” could only be Lord Ashford.

“On which grounds? There were witnesses,” Gareth said. “And the marriage has been consummated.”

“Has it truly? Would you care to discuss the matter?” Roland asked Evelina with just a hint of a smile despite the seriousness of the discussion.

“Have you no notion of chivalry?” she teased back. “To ask such a thing?”

“None at all.”

She actually believed him.

“Roland.” Gareth cleared his throat.

“No grounds at all,” Roland said in response. “He refused to see Eamon twice. When he did gain entry, there was little discussion. Ashford suspected you,” he said to Evelina, “had gone with Gareth. He told Eamon he regretted not locking you in your bedchamber.”

“That sounds very much like something he would say. I was surprised he did not.”

“What else?” Gareth asked. He seemed worried, as if sensing there was more.

“He means to have the marriage annulled,” Alden said.

“Impossible.” Gareth, though clearly angry, was controlled. “He cannot.”

“He has powerful friends,” Evelina said, her worst fears coming true. “Ecclesiastical courts have jurisdiction over marriages, as you know. There are many who would take the case, unfortunately. What does Eamon advise?” she asked.

“To remain here.”

“Not so bad a place,” Roland said as his meal arrived. “Though you are missed at Knight School.”

“By you, no doubt?” Gareth’s humor had not left him even though the news was not good. “Who else will remind you of your lessons?”

“What else is there to do at Castle Blackwood if not attend your lessons?” Evelina asked.

In response, Roland shrugged as if he had no answer. She looked at Gareth and immediately understood. There were enough serving maids there, apparently, to occupy him.

“Remain here,” Gareth repeated. “For how long?”

“For as long as it takes for Eamon to talk sense into Ashcroft.” Alden grabbed his mug and took a long swig.

No one spoke after that. Alden and Roland ate their meals.

Gareth leaned back, mug in hand, deep in thought.

And Evelina had naught to say. She would remain here indefinitely, but such a thing was not possible.

They were too close to Ashcroft Manor, and eventually would be discovered.

Unable to take a chance that her powerful former father could see her and Gareth separated, they would have no other choice but to leave.

The tourney circuit. Was such a thing even possible?

Wouldn’t Gareth be discovered if he entered, and won, tournament after tournament?

And while she truly did not care if they did not have a proper home, being with him the only thing that mattered to her, Evelina could tell Gareth wanted that—if not for himself then for her.

When she looked up, her husband was watching her. But the merriment was gone from his eyes, replaced with a look of concern. Of sorrow.

They’d desperately wanted news from home and, unfortunately, got their wish.