Page 31 of The Sword and the Damsel (The De Veres #2)

A lais clutched her ermine stole as she and Victor returned home from Christmas mass. A cold wind howled, but she didn’t care. The Christmas feast was one of her favorite events of the year, and she could hardly wait to show off the new velvet gown she’d commissioned in Canterbury.

But Victor was fidgeting. Something was off. What could have him so worked up on Christmas Day?

“You aren’t worried about next month’s visit to your aunt, are you?” she asked, putting a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“What?” He looked genuinely bewildered. “Of course not. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that you’ve been restless all morning. Something is on your mind. Is it something to do with the negotiations with the archbishop’s representative? I thought you said those were going well.”

His brow furrowed. “They are.”

“Then what’s eating at you? There’s definitely something.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are altogether too perceptive?”

Alais’s heart fluttered at his words. It was so delicious to get compliments that had nothing to do with her looks.

“Only you.”

He smiled his adorable, endearing half-smile.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said, squeezing his arm.

“All shall be revealed very shortly,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and giving her a cryptic smile.

What was he up to?

As they entered the castle gates, Victor pulled her aside just as she was about to go in the front doors.

Mark from the stables came running up.

“Is everything ready as I asked?” Victor asked.

“It is, my lord.”

Victor heaved a sigh of relief and turned to her.

“I have a gift for you, my love. Come with me.”

A gift? That was what this was all about?

“Victor, I already have more silks and jewels than I know what to do with.” Really, it was too much. He didn’t need to spoil her like this.

“This is better than silks and jewels,” he said with a sly grin.

“Better?” What had he done? It was with a mix of excitement and trepidation that she followed him as he led her into the stables.

“Definitely better,” he said coming to a halt in front of the stall next to Socorro. “Meet Ventus.”

Alais gasped as she looked at the gorgeous and powerful chestnut horse before her. The same size as Socorro, Ventus stamped and whickered as if ready for a race. He held himself like a prince among horses, proud and powerful. Victor placed an apple in her hand.

“Your very own charger, my love. The knight I bought him from was very tardy handing him over, but fortunately, he came through.”

“Ventus,” Alais cooed, “we are going to be great friends.”

Ventus eagerly devoured the apple and nudged Alais’s hand for more. Alais laughed. “He’s absolutely beautiful. You’re right. This is better than silks and jewels.”

She pulled Victor toward her by the collar and brushed her lips against his. He responded immediately, moaning against her lips, and running his hands up her back. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened to him. Familiar warmth rippled through her body and pooled in her center. He pressed her up against the side of the stall and deepened his kiss as she raked her nails down his back.

“Keep this up, and I may pounce on you in the hay,” Victor said when she finally released him.

“I like the sound of that, but first…” She drew a finger along his jaw, down his neck, and then down his front. “We race.”

Victor smiled broadly. “I thought you’d say that.”

He turned. “William,” he yelled, “come saddle Ventus and Socorro. Lady Alais and I are going for a ride.”

Soon the horses were ready, and Victor stood beside Ventus, offering his hands to help her up. As she straightened her leg, he took a playful nip at her bottom, which was level with his face. “Victor,” she admonished, but William was looking the other way.

“Tonight, I’m going to make you my Christmas feast,” he said in a low voice only she could hear. The prickling warmth of a blush spread across her face.

“If you aren’t too full of pudding,” she teased, enjoying the view as he turned toward Socorro and mounted. Good Lord, the man had lovely legs.

Soon they were wending their way down Castle Street, picking their way carefully along the icy cobblestones. They passed pilgrims fresh glowing with zeal from Christmas mass, townsfolk in their holiday best, and mummers acting out the Christmas story.

As they turned on Fish Street by the docks, it was quiet for once, the raucous noise quelled temporarily for the holiday. Riding out through the eastern gate, they wended their way down to the beach.

“No Dora to chaperone us this time,” Victor said.

Alais laughed. “I almost wish we’d brought her for old time’s sake.”

“You torture that poor woman enough without bringing her out on a freezing winter’s day.”

“Too true. I hope she’s up at the castle sipping a tisane and eating pastries.”

Ventus pawed restlessly at the sand.

“Patience, Ventus,” she said, petting his neck. “You’ll get to run all you want in just a moment. Are you ready?”

Socorro glared at her as though she’d insulted his pride.

“Do you know… I think Socorro might be jealous?” Victor asked.

“Oh, Socorro. You’ll always be my sweet boy.”

Socorro tossed his head and looked away.

“I told you she’d break your heart, my friend. Let’s win this race so you can regain your pride.”

“Ready…Go!”

Alais tore along the beach on Ventus’s back, not even bothering to check where her opponent was. This was how it must feel to fly, she thought as she and her steed floated down the beach, the wind tearing at her hair. She couldn’t contain her joy and yelped with glee.

When she passed the rock at the end of the beach, she didn’t stop. She wheeled around and charged back. Only after completing the full loop did she rein in Ventus and come to a halt.

Victor arrived on Socorro moments later.

“I won,” she crowed.

He laughed. “You cheated. You didn’t tell me we were racing there and back. I thought we were stopping at the rock.”

“I know. I just couldn’t bring myself to stop. He flies, Victor. Where in Christendom did this horse come from?”

“Not in Christendom, I’m afraid. He originally comes from Arabia. It cost me dear, but I’ve never seen a finer steed. No offense, Socorro,” he said, giving his horse a reassuring pat.

“I love him.”

“And here I thought you loved me.”

“I love you more than all the horses in the world, more than the moon and stars, more than Christmas and my birthday, more than anything or anyone, really.”

He was everything to her, this beautiful, brave man with his warrior’s face and fierce heart. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to see her safe and happy, and she knew it. The same was true of her. She would face any danger, sacrifice everything to see him happy and at peace.

“And I love you with everything I am. Every day, I wake up thinking my heart will surely burst with it. You are a danger to my health and sanity, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you more than I ever thought possible, and I will do so until the day I die and then on into eternity.”

Ventus stamped impatiently, and Socorro tossed his head.

“I think the horses are annoyed by our maudlin nonsense,” Victor said, the fierce love in his eyes belying his amused tone. “Race again?

Full loop this time?”

“Of course!”

“Ready and… Go !”

They raced for another hour until her ears ached with the cold and her hair was such a tangle, she didn’t think Dora would ever be able to tame it.

“We should head back,” she said regretfully, pulling her stole tighter around her. “We need time to get ready for the feast.”

“You’re cold. You should have told me. Of course, we can head back.”

She must have looked quite a sight as she rode up Castle Street with Victor by her side, but she didn’t care. Revelers were everywhere, making merry and partaking freely of the wine and ale the castle provided one and all for the feast day as they climbed up the hill to the castle.

After relinquishing their steeds to the stable hands, they sauntered into the castle hand in hand with all the guilty delight of children who have been up to mischief. Carenza caught sight of them as they hurried to their room.

“Where have you two been? I’ve been looking for you.” She looked them up and down, observing the state of Alais’s hair and Victor’s too-wide grin. “Never mind. I don’t think I want the answer to that question. Just hurry up and get ready for the feast. Don’t make us wait for you.”

As soon as they were in their room, Victor pressed her against the wall kissing down her neck, and her whole body went up in flame.

“We don’t have time,” she complained, not really wanting him to stop. “You heard Carenza.”

“Let them wait. I need you.” His knee pressed between her legs, and she gasped.

“After the feast,” she said with more conviction than she felt.

“I’m not sure I can wait that long. Can you?” he asked, nibbling her ear in the most delicious way.

Someone knocked on the door. “Alais, are you almost ready?” her mother asked through the door.

“Soon Mother,” she called back.

With a sigh, Victor released her. “After the feast,” he said with a look full of promise.

Victor dressed quickly and went downstairs to avoid temptation, or so he said. With Dora’s help, Alais put on her new, red-velvet dress with a brocade panel in front and long bell sleeves that dripped to her shins. Dora tsk -ed at the state of her hair but soon had it pinned up in elegant side buns beneath a crespin whose gold net was studded with pearls. A wisp of sheer white silk draped down the back from the circlet. Last, Alais donned the ruby necklace, earrings, and bracelet Victor had bought her in Canterbury. She was ready.

When she made her entrance in the grand dining hall, she was the last member of the family to arrive. Jugglers and musicians entertained at least half the town, gathered beneath their roof to celebrate the feast day. The hall was decorated with festive tapestries, and braziers and candelabras gave it a merry light. Evergreens decorated the trestle tables, and the floor was strewn with fresh rushes and herbs.

She heard murmurs and gasps as she entered, and with some petty delight, she saw her outfit was even grander than Carenza’s. But then Carenza had always had a rather severe sense of fashion. Why she wore that awful pearl rosary with the tiny carved skull all the time, she would never understand.

What mattered most, though, as she made her entrance was the look of wonder and adoration on Victor’s face. He looked like he was enthralled by a holy vision and nearly dropped his silver wine goblet. As she took her place beside him at the table, he whispered, “You are a queen among women. I am honored beyond words to be at your side.”

Daniel stood, and the hall hushed. He looked commanding in his midnight blue velvet cotte with slashed sleeves and billowing folds flaring from the waist. He gave a brief speech in honor of the holiday, commenting on the new ties with Hastings and Canterbury, and invited her father, Lord de Vere, to bless the feast. Her father led them in the Lord’s Prayer as they all bowed their heads. When he finished, he spread his arms with a smile and said, “Let us feast!”

An entire roasted boar was carried by four servers and placed in the middle of the table. An army of servants appeared with a seemingly endless procession of platters and tureens for their table and then for the rest of the hall. There was venison, mutton, and sweetmeats. Hot, crusty loaves of bread and cheeses were laid on every table. There was pottage and roasted root vegetables. Mulled wine, mead, and ale flowed freely.

Alais took a sample of everything, unable to resist the decadent aromas.

“How is the venison today?” Victor asked, leaning in.

She took a bite. “Quite good, actually. The cooks didn’t overcook it for once.”

“Excellent, then I’ll have some,” he said, reaching for the platter.

“I’d skip the mutton, though. It’s rather tough.”

He grinned. “Thank you for saving me from mediocre mutton, my lady. I am in your debt.”

They ate until they could eat no more, and then the plum pudding arrived. Victor winked at her as he served her a slice, despite her groan. As usual, she had overindulged. Nonetheless, she ate the rich dessert and even nibbled on a gingerbread cookie. She thought the ties on the sides of her gown might burst if she took another bite.

That’s when the first troubadour stepped up onto the low wooden stage at the side of the room. Alais sipped mulled wine and leaned against Victor, who wrapped an arm around her as they listened to the plaintive tune about a beautiful lady locked away in a castle and a lover who lived merely to look upon her face from afar and no more. Another troubadour took the stage and sang a fiery song about going to war and laying siege to his cruel lady love.

Daniel and Carenza got up and sang a merry Christmas carol. By the end, everyone in the hall was singing along. A few were even dancing. Daniel gestured for the other troubadours to join them on stage with their lutes, and they each took turns leading a verse in a reprise. Before long, they’d run out of real verses, and the performers were improvising increasingly ridiculous parody verses.

Victor stood up and held out his hand. “A dance, my lady?”

She stood and accepted his hand, and soon they were whirling to the music, which had somehow devolved into increasingly ribald country songs. Daniel and Carenza surrendered the stage, leaving four troubadours to hold court, and everyone got drunker and sillier.

When she had danced until she could hardly stand, Victor whispered in her ear, “Do you think we can go now?”

Alais looked around. Her parents were dancing. Carenza was leaning back casually in Daniel’s arms, obviously tipsy. Iselda had already excused herself and gone to bed.

“Yes, I think we can.”

“At last.”

He pulled her upstairs to their room and showed her that Christmas had hardly begun.