Page 50 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

H e was not exactly how Evelina had described him.

Most of the recruits had been invited to Ashford Manor upon their arrival, and the earl’s son was no exception.

Though Amalia had not seen him that eve, that the son of the Lion of Ravensbrook was among them had caused quite a stir.

His father’s legendary feat, in which he secured victory with half as many men as the enemy while leading the charge under King Henry at the Battle of Ravensbrook , was well known.

It was also well known that the earl was a staunch supporter of King Stephen, making his son’s recruitment to the Guardians of the Sacred Oak quite surprising.

Also surprising? That the man was the most devastatingly handsome she’d ever seen.

With black hair, neatly shaven, and with a shade of ice blue eyes that looked almost otherworldly, Lord de Vere, or Roland, as he asked that she address him, had made it nearly impossible to eat that bowl of stew.

She could not taste it, each bite an effort, when instead Amalia would have preferred to sit back and simply stare at him.

And perhaps the most surprising thing of all was that he seemed to like her. At first, she thought perhaps he was simply performing a duty, one Sir Eamon had told her about—Gareth’s three friends were to serve as makeshift protectors while she remained at Castle Blackwood.

It was not that Amalia wasn’t aware that she was pretty. She’d been told so many times, though she believed her lady was much more beautiful than she. Most of her suitors, however, had been servants. Farmers’ sons. Some knights, aye, but rarely a man such as Roland.

If a lord, especially an eldest son, offers you attention, Amalia, know his intentions. ’Tis never to marry, and if they beget a child on you, the babe will be for you and you alone to rais e.

Her mother’s advice before Amalia left home to serve Lady Evelina.

It was advice she’d never forgotten, believed with her whole heart, and had, until now, followed.

Amalia might have given herself to two different men, but both times she had believed they loved her and would ask for her hand in marriage.

And while she did not marry either, Amalia had at least believed they would remain together at the time.

She had no wish to give her body to a man who had no intention of doing so.

And yet . . .

When Roland had looked at her during the meal, the flutters in her chest--and lower--said otherwise.

“As you know, we take meals in the hall, but when the men are too busy in the training yard,” Roland said as they left the great hall, “food is also brought out to us.”

“That is unusual, is it not?”

As they passed recruits, knights, and servants alike scurrying to their next class or training session, some looked at them, but differently from when Amalia had made her way belowstairs earlier. A quick glance at Roland, and those passing by quickly averted their gazes.

“You command a level of respect here already,” she noted, aware that Roland had been one of the later recruits.

“My name does.”

His voice, more gruff than before, made Amalia peer more closely at him. His expression matched his tone. “You seem displeased by that. Is it not an honor to be the son of such a man?”

“Honor. Curse. There are many words I might use to describe having the Lion of Ravensbrook as one’s father.”

She stopped beside an alcove overlooking the training yard at the rear of the castle. Enclosed by an expansive inner wall, the field was massive, and filled with men training everything from their sword hands to the bow and arrow farther toward the edge of the property.

“A curse? How is such a thing possible?”

Roland looked out to the training yard and then down to the velvet cushion atop a stone bench cut into the side of the castle wall. He gestured for her to sit, and Amalia did so. He sat a respectable distance from her, angled toward her but also able to see out the rare bay window.

“I could have captured King Stephen myself and the deed would not compare to my father’s.”

Oddly, there did not seem to be a bitter tone to his words. “To live up to such a thing,” she said. “I would assume it would be quite impossible.”

“Especially since my father supports the king.”

“I’ve heard as much. So ’tis true?”

“Aye.” He looked out the window, watching his fellow recruits. Roland’s strong jaw clenched, the only sign of his annoyance with the topic. Or his father. Or both.

“Is he angry that you are here?”

Roland looked at her. “He knows not that I was recruited to be here but will learn of it eventually. I was visiting one of our country manors, one I stand to inherit, when Sir Eamon and the others approached me. They’d heard I supported the empress, a fact I’d never hidden and one my father has more than once threatened my inheritance with. ”

“Do you not worry he will take it from you?”

Roland shrugged. “It matters not. Empress Matilda is the rightful ruler of England. Henry willed his daughter to succeed him. Stephen seizing the throne in her stead means only he was more properly positioned, because of the bishop of Winchester, to take what did not belong to him. My father, and men like him, wish only to retain their titles and lands.”

“But you wish for more?

Roland’s smile was not at all innocent. “I wish to retain them as well as my father, but the cost, for me, is too high.”

So Roland was willing to stand by his ideals even at the potential loss of the earldom. “You are quite noble, my lord.”

“Roland,” he reminded her. “I can be.”

What did he mean by that?

“Tell me of you, Amalia. How did you come to be here?”

She’d been staring at his hands. They were large, a scar running from his left thumb across to his pinky finger offering evidence that Roland did not simply play at battle. Was he as skilled as his father with the sword?

Amalia looked up into those cool blue eyes.

“I am a simple farmer’s daughter. Many years ago Lady Evelina and her father attended a market where we sold eggs and vegetables.

Evelina had been walking past my father’s cart when she bumped a carton of eggs, which fell and shattered.

I quickly cleaned it, and her gown too. Since she was without a lady’s maid, Evelina inquired if I might be interested in the position. Of course, I was.”

“From farmer’s daughter to lady’s maid. Not a common story.”

“Not at all. I’ve been grateful ever since and adore my lady.”

“And the baron?”

“My mother often chided me for speaking ill of someone when instead I could say nothing at all.”

He smiled. “Wise advice.”

“She is a remarkable woman, my mother. And yours?”

“Sometimes I believe my mother is the only reason I’ve not yet been disinherited. But when my father learns of this...” He waved his hand toward the training yard. “Ours is not the only family split on two sides of this conflict.”

“Indeed, it is not. But perhaps with the king’s imprisonment, this conflict will be at an end.”

“Perhaps.” Roland did not appear convinced. “We speak of disinheriting, a topic you yourself are forced to navigate.”

“Aye.” Amalia could not look away from his eyes. It was as if they looked into her very soul. “I fear it will never be safe for Lady Evelina to return here, lest Lord Ashcroft attempt to repudiate her marriage.”

“You yourself bore witness to it. As did Sir Eamon. And I can assume it has been consummated many times over by now, so...”

She looked down at her hands, not usually this shy about such topics. But Roland did something to her.

“Apologies,” he said. “I shouldn’t have spoken so crudely.”

Her chin raised. “I am not so inexperienced—” she began, and then quickly stopped talking. What had she been thinking, to speak that freely?

Roland’s eyes sparkled, as if he would tease her. Instead, catching his smile, he stood and offered his arm. “Should we continue our tour?”

Her arm fit easily in the crook of his. Roland’s nearness affected her more than it should, but Amalia found her voice. “Aye,” was all she managed.

After today, she would do well to stay away from this man until her lady returned. When Sir Eamon warned her about the men who might take advantage, he had not likely meant one of the very men meant to protect her.

Roland was honorable, aye. But politics and women, Amalia knew, were very different matters indeed.