Page 9 of The Sword and the Damsel (The De Veres #2)

T he tournament was three days away, and the weather was chill and blustery. This was the first day in a week with no rain. Victor would have preferred to be at the tournament grounds, overseeing preparations, but instead, he was stuck accompanying Lady Carenza and Lady Alais on a visit to Silver Street to pick up tournament prizes.

“Sir Victor, it’s good to see you. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” Lady Alais said, giving him a wink as he bent to kiss her offered hand.

She was right. He was absolutely avoiding her. The rain had given him such a lovely reprieve from her company. Spending time with her had only sharpened his absurd and inconvenient attraction, which he was determined to ignore. Not that time away lessened his feelings. It only reduced the likelihood of his slipping up and making them known in some way. And it was his sworn duty to keep that from ever happening. For today’s outing, he intended to maintain as much distance as possible, keeping conversation and contact to an absolute minimum.

“A pleasure to see you as always, Lady Alais,” he said with a sideways smile. “And you, Lady Carenza,” he continued, bowing.

“My husband is glad you are accompanying us today,” Lady Carenza said with a dry smile. “We’ll try to be quick so that we don’t take up too much of your time. I’m sure that you have more important things to attend to.”

“Think nothing of it, my lady. I am at your service.” He gestured toward the gate, but Lady Alais didn’t move.

“He still refuses to tell me what word he replaced with ‘queen’ the other night, and he won’t tell me about the song with the cat either,” Lady Alais teased. “I tried to ask Daniel, but he turned me down too. Carenza, do you know those songs?”

“As if I’d tell you if I did,” Lady Carenza answered shaking her head. “Give it up.”

Lady Alais shrugged. “For today,” she conceded, grudgingly.

The song about a cat again. Would Lady Alais ever give up?

They set out on foot. On the narrow streets of Winchelsea, it was easier to walk than to ride most places. A fall breeze caught Lady Alais’s hair, and she turned her face to it, closing her eyes and reveling in it for a brief moment. Victor caught a waft of lemon and thyme, the scent that followed her everywhere, and he breathed deeply. He would have to see if he could find a perfume with that scent for Jane.

“Will you be competing in the tournament, Sir Victor?” Lady Alais asked, taking his arm.

He stiffened and gently removed her hand. “I’m sorry, my lady. I need my sword arm free to defend you from brigands.” He could still feel the warmth of her hand on his forearm like a caress. Stop noticing that, he told himself.

“Oh yes, the dastardly brigands of Winchelsea! They might steal me away and ravish me if you weren’t here to defend me.”

He gulped, hearing her say the word “ravish.”

“But you didn’t answer me,” Lady Alais continued, oblivious to the effect of her words on Victor. “Will you compete in the tournament?”

“Of course, my lady.” God’s teeth, his voice was unusually raspy. Did she notice?

“I’m sure you’ll win. I heard about your exploits on Birdie Street the other day.” Victor had a moment of panic before he realized she must be talking about the Matthew raid. “From what I’ve seen of your practice, you’re a better swordsman than any of the other competitors, except maybe your cousin. He might give you some competition.”

“You’ve watched me practice?” That was disconcerting news. He swallowed, hard.

“It’s more interesting than embroidery.” She shrugged.

“Is it? It’s all just poking holes in things,” he said looking down at his feet.

Lady Alais giggled. “But you men take off your shirts and thrash around, gleaming with sweat while you try to poke your holes. It’s all much more stimulating than a room full of ladies with needle and thread poking holes in fabric.”

Victor tried to decide if he was going to keep his shirt on during practice going forward, now that he knew she was secretly watching, but then he decided he didn’t much mind the thought of her gaze on his bare chest. He looked around, ostensibly to be watchful, but more so he could mark the time of day by the position of the sun in the sky. How many more hours did he have to wait before he could see Jane?

Lady Carenza stepped in and took her sister’s arm. “Alais, you might want to spend less time ogling sweaty men and more time praying for salvation. I fear for your silly soul sometimes.”

They arrived at the jeweler’s shop. Lady Carenza turned to him. “Ignore her. She’d flirt with a boulder if she got bored enough.”

Lady Alais turned to him and responded in exactly the same voice, “Ignore her. She’d lecture God Himself on moral rectitude, given the chance.”

With that, the sisters swept into the jeweler’s shop, past the two burly guards protecting the shop’s glittering wares.

Victor had a moment of blessed peace. He nodded at the guards, and they nodded back. They recognized him, of course, and knew better than to bother the head of the Watch. Victor leaned against one of the posts holding up the shop’s awning.

Why couldn’t Lady Alais let him be? It would be so much easier if she ignored him, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from torturing him. Even though she obviously didn’t mean anything by it, he couldn’t brush it off. He knew he’d be dreaming tonight of holding her against his bare chest while he ran his sword through brigands hell-bent on ravishing her. He couldn’t escape, even in his sleep.

A tempting, savory smell wafted on the breeze, and Victor turned to the baker next door. He could do with a lamb pie about now, come to think of it. Soon he was back at his post with a delicious hand pie. As he bit into it, he tried to focus on what still needed to be done for the tournament and mused on different ideas while he ate. He was licking the last bits of pie off his fingers as the ladies emerged from the shop.

“Here,” said Lady Carenza, handing him a small, but surprisingly heavy leather pouch. “You’d best hold onto this until we’re back in the castle.”

He already knew what it contained: a heavy gold ring set with a ruby and a gold cloak clasp set with diamonds. These were two of the three prizes for the tournament. The third was a beautiful black destrier that was already housed up in the castle stables. Lady Carenza would give away the clasp to whoever she deemed the most valiant competitor. Lady de Vere would give away the destrier to the best jouster, and Lady Alais would give away the ring to the best swordsman. Victor didn’t want the clasp or the horse, but he was determined to have the ring if he had to give his own cousin a concussion to get it. He might not be able to woo her, but he could win her favor for a day. It was the most he could dare to allow himself.

As they set off back to the castle, Lady Alais turned once again to Victor. “So tell me about your cousin, Robert. Are you two close?”

Victor took a deep breath. Robert was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

“We fought together in Spain. He’s the reason I’m still alive. The swordsman that gave me my beauty mark—” he said, pointing at his scar—“was trying to cut off my head. Robert deflected him just in time.”

“How heroic!” Her eyes shone with admiration, which made him clench his jaw, though he couldn’t say why. “You were both fighting the Saracens in Spain, were you not?”

They turned onto Castle Street, when he heard a commotion up the hill. He tried to see what was happening, but too many people were in the way. Suddenly, people began diving to the sides of the street and into doorways. Lady Carenza noticed the danger first, and screamed, “Alais, get out of the way!”

Then he saw it. A heavy cart filled with wine barrels had come loose from its chocks and was rolling out of control down Castle Street, straight toward Lady Alais. Without thinking, he launched himself at her, knocking her over, and rolled with her to the side of the street, out of the way of the cart, which thundered by before it crashed into the side of a nearby inn.

Victor realized with alarm that he was lying on top of her, his arms wrapped around her. For a moment, madness took him, and he lingered, feeling her lush curves pressed against him as the fresh scent of lemon and thyme swirled around them. But then he felt his body start to respond, and he rolled away in a rush before she could notice. “Are you hurt?” he asked kneeling beside her.

She sat up slowly, wincing slightly. “I’m a little bruised but otherwise fine, I think.” She put a hand on his arm. He looked at it and back at her. “Thank you. Truly.” Her eyes shone with earnest gratitude. There was none of the usual mischief or flirtation in her look. “Can you help me up?”

He tried to ignore the spark of heat as he took her hand in his and pulled her to standing. “Looks like you scraped your elbow, my lady,” he said, turning her arm gently.

“Is she hurt?” asked Lady Carenza, running over.

“Just a little scrape,” he answered, letting Lady Carenza see Lady Alais’s arm. Then he took the deep blue scarf he was wearing around his neck and wrapped it carefully around the injury.

“Thanks to Victor, I’m fine,” Lady Alais said, grasping his arm when he finished tying off the scarf.

Victor swallowed hard and began reciting the schedule for the tournament in his head, as fire radiated through his body from the place where she clung to his arm. He said a silent prayer for deliverance, uncertain how long he could stand physical contact with her before he betrayed himself in some way.

At that moment, Robert came riding up in shining armor, just cleaned for the tournament, his golden curls stirring in the chilly November breeze. He held his white plumed helm in his left arm and looked every inch the fairytale hero.

“Oh dear, my lady Alais, you’re hurt!” he said, jumping down from his horse. “Please allow me to accompany you back to the castle. You can ride my horse.”

Victor’s heart sank to his toes. This wasn’t the deliverance he’d hoped for. Robert might appear to be a perfectly reasonable match for Lady Alais, but he’d always been viciously competitive and more than a little petty in his behavior toward Victor, even if he had saved his life. It was a small wonder that at that moment, Victor wanted to run him through with a lance.

Yet, for some inscrutable reason, Lady Alais turned to Victor, asking permission with her eyes to accept Robert’s offer, as if it was his to give. He stared down at her and blinked, but could offer no answer. He had no words.

Lady Carenza answered on her behalf. “Thank you for your offer, Sir Robert. I’m sure my sister would be much obliged if you saw her safely back up to the castle. I’ll follow with Sir Victor.”

He watched with gritted teeth as Robert helped her onto the horse and they began to wend their way back up to the castle.

Lady Carenza gave him a sympathetic look as he watched his cousin lead Alais away. “Don’t let her tie you in knots. She’ll be safely married and out of your way soon enough.”

That’s what I’m afraid of , he refrained from saying.

“Shall we return to the castle, my lady?”

They made their way back up the hill.

*

At dinner that evening, Victor found himself sitting next to Robert, forced to listen to him enthusing about the loveliness and graciousness of Lady Alais.

“Thank the Lord that I was there to save her! If I hadn’t happened by just then she would have been forced to walk back to the castle, despite her injuries,” Robert told a nonplussed Sir Elias. “I don’t know what you were thinking, Victor, letting the ladies walk.”

Victor focused on his roast duck in red wine sauce and tried to ignore his cousin.

Lord Guy elbowed him in the side. “I say, that wasn’t very chivalrous of you. But maybe you’re trying to give your cousin an unfair advantage with Lady Alais. Considering her generous dowry, maybe you’re trying to enrich the coffers of Guestling.”

Victor gave Lord Guy a look that made him blanche. Weaselly fortune hunter…

“The money’s nice, but it’s not the only appeal,” said Lord Alphonse, oblivious, taking a drink of wine directly from the pitcher. “Spirited little filly, isn’t she? Hot-blooded, I’ll warrant. Such lovely lines, and those hindquarters…” He whistled. “Wouldn’t mind saddling her up and taking her for a nice long ride.”

A dagger pinned Lord Alphonse’s sleeve to the table. “You will speak respectfully about Lady Alais in my presence unless you want to become better acquainted with my blade,” Victor said in a voice cold enough to freeze Rye Harbor, even to his own ears.

“No offense intended, my lord,” mumbled Lord Alphonse, hastily pulling his limbs out of Victor’s reach as soon as Victor removed his blade and sheathed it.

Thank heavens he’d already eliminated Lord Guy and Lord Alphonse from the running. When he’d shared their exploits from their little night out with Lords Rossignol and de Vere, they’d readily agreed. But he still hadn’t found a good reason to discredit Sir Elias and Robert. And Lord Louis, he supposed, though he hardly counted. He might be a nice man, but Lady Alais would never agree to marry him.

Meanwhile, Sir Elias and Sir Robert kept whispering to each other. What were they up to? He’d have to find out.

His reverie was interrupted by the start of the evening’s entertainment. A troubadour began singing a lover’s lament about a gallant knight whose lady love refused to grant him a kiss. He ignored it. He didn’t have much use for love songs.

Another troubadour sang a satirical piece skewering his aunt and her court for decadence and dissolution. That was slightly more interesting, better than listening to drivel from Lady Alais’s suitors at any rate.

Last, Lord Daniel got up and sang a duet with Lady Carenza about whether a lover should be subservient to his lady love or treated as her equal. Lady Carenza was positively cheeky in her performance. Victor thought that after a performance like that, “Carenza” at the Bird in Hand was likely to get extra business. Indeed, Lord Daniel appeared to fully appreciate his wife’s talent from the way he looked at her.

Lord Guy murmured to Robert, “Are married people allowed to look at each other that way?”

“Lord Daniel is a lucky man,” Robert replied.

“She was supposed to be a nun, you know,” Lord Alphonse said, inserting himself into the conversation. “Never saw a nun look like that though. Pretty naughty nun… I bet she’s—”

Victor lifted Lord Alphonse up from the table by his collar. “I think it’s time for you to retire for the evening, Lord Alphonse. Allow me to accompany you to your room.”

After depositing Lord Alphonse in his guest quarters with some pointed warnings about the consequences of ever saying another word about any of the ladies of the castle, Victor headed down to Birdie Street at long last and bought Jane’s services for the whole night.

“My lord?” Jane inquired seeing the fire in his eye as he closed the door behind them.

“Pleasure yourself, Jane.” His voice was strained and desperate. “I need relief now. It’s the fastest way.”

Nothing moved him like the sight of a woman taking her own pleasure. It was a revelation the first time he’d seen it. Despite the Church’s condemnation, he was certain it had to be a holy thing. How could God have given such beauty and such capacity for pleasure to womankind and not intend for them to glory in it? He watched Jane close her eyes and stroke herself, his breathing growing ragged. He worshipped the miracle before him with his gaze and then stripped off his clothes, climbing on top of her. But suddenly, it was all wrong. The memory of another body pressed against him made him stop short. Jane was a lovely woman in her own right, but she wasn’t the right woman. These weren’t the curves he ached to caress. It was all a poor simulacrum of what he truly wanted. He let out a heavy sigh and rolled to his side.

“What did she do to you today, my lord?” Jane asked, all too knowing.

“Lord Daniel sent me on an errand with her. She kept touching my arm. It was torture. And then I had to rescue her from a runaway cart on Castle Street,” he said, unable to stop himself from confessing all.

“I heard about that! What a mess.”

“For a brief moment, I held her in my arms, her whole body beneath mine. I didn’t mean to, I swear. It happened by accident. And then my cousin showed up with his fancy armor and his stupid pretty face and swept her off to the castle without me.”

“Ouch,” she said, smiling kindly.

“And then I had to spend the whole evening listening to her suitors drooling over her.”

“My lord, if I’m not being too bold, I have to ask…” She paused, her face wary.

“Spit it out, Jane.”

“Well…why aren’t you courting her? Surely, you’re as good a match as any of the others. Why not try to win her?”

Victor exhaled. Jane was too insightful by half.

“I’m supposed to be protecting her, not seducing her. I gave my word of honor. Besides, why would a lovely, young damsel want to be married to this ugly mug? She wants some paragon who is going to sweep her off her feet, a man who will compose love poems and woo her with sweet words. She had five suitors who were all willing to play her game and dance attendance on her every whim. I’m not for her. Besides, it’s my sworn duty to keep her safe until she marries someone else.”

“I think you underestimate yourself. And her too.” She caressed his face and tweaked his nose. “Much as I enjoy your company and appreciate all the coin you shower on me, I’m not the woman you want. I think you should get dressed, go back to the castle, and win your lady love.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He laughed incredulously, but everything in him yearned to do exactly as she said.

“It’s not ridiculous. She flirts with you, teases you, and does her best to get under your skin. I think she rather fancies you.”

“She does that to everyone.” It had nothing to do with him. Did it? No, he couldn’t afford to entertain such thoughts.

“Go home, my lord. You obviously aren’t interested in me.” She looked him up and down pausing on his deflated cock to make her point.

Defeated, he pushed up from the pallet, gathered his clothes, and dressed. “You and she have more in common than looks, you know. You both have a special talent for getting under my skin.”

She smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Now go up to the castle and don’t come back. I expect to hear wedding bells within weeks.”

Shaking his head, he gave her all the coin in his purse. He didn’t want his own lack of enthusiasm to hurt her in any way.

He bid her goodbye and made his way back up to the castle, replaying the moment when Lady Alais was in his embrace over and over in his mind. Duty be damned. His self-control hung by a thread. But what kind of knight would he be if he broke his word and pursued her? And how would she respond? He would have to keep his feelings carefully locked away. No one could ever know.