Page 20 of When I Fall in Love (De Piaget #4)

J ennifer braided her hair, tied it with a ribbon, and turned toward the doorway. She’d had a wonderful time the night before. In fact, the whole day had been wonderful. She’d had a lovely lunch on the beach, a decadent nap during the afternoon, an excellent dinner, then the pleasure of an evening spent dancing with four handsome men, one of whom she really, really liked.

It was terrifying.

She let out a shaky breath. The thought of two weeks spent pretending to be medieval nobility, followed by the rest of her life as just an average medieval peasant was just not pretty, especially since she would probably spend the rest of that life longing for the company of the lord of Wyckham.

He was, as Megan would have said, truly the epitome of all knightly virtues.

She smoothed her hand over her dress. It was hard to pinpoint just when he’d unwittingly laid siege to her heart. Maybe it had been that first moment when she’d seen him, sitting on top of his horse, so magnificently handsome that she hadn’t been able to draw a decent breath. Maybe when he’d stroked her hair in front of Wyckham’s fireplace. She was fairly certain she’d been in trouble when she’d realized that he’d altered a dress for her with his own hands so it would be long enough.

And then there had been the dancing the night before ...

She sat down on the bed because it seemed safer than trying to stand up. She put her face in her hands and let out a shuddering breath. What in the world was she doing? Playing with fire, that’s what she was doing. She was spending days on end with a terribly handsome man paying terribly flattering attention to her, all clothed in medieval finery and accompanied by fine music made by wonderful medieval musicians.

It would not end well.

She had to tell him no. Didn’t she?

Yes, she did. She stood up and walked across the room. She would find him while her common sense still had the upper hand. She flung open the door and walked out purposefully into the hallway. She pulled up short and squeaked in surprise.

Nicholas was standing against the opposite wall, leaning back against it with a foot propped up underneath him and his arms folded over his chest.

She felt a little weak in the knees. All right, so she had marched out into the hallway, firm in her determination to tell Nicholas to get lost so she could get right on with her miserable medieval-gal working life.

Now, she wondered if she’d just temporarily lost her mind.

He dropped his hands and pushed away from the wall. He smiled. “A good morrow to you, my lady.”

“Ah,” she began weakly, “you’re awake early.”

He smiled. “I thought it best to be here before sunrise.”

“Why?”

“I feared you would bolt.”

She tried to swallow, but she wasn’t entirely successful. “I considered it.”

“I imagined you would.” He took her hand in his and pulled her down the passageway. “You realize that I’m not going to allow you to renege on your promise, don’t you?”

“Well—”

“I will be forced to convince you afresh each morning, you know. What a waste of early hours that could be spent atop the castle enjoying the sea breezes, or out in the lists learning how to express your displeasure with a sword.”

She looked at him in desperation. “But I don’t fling.”

“Fling?” he echoed. “Fling what?”

She would have laughed, but it just wasn’t funny. “You fling when you romance a woman, take her to bed, then leave her the next day.” She paused. “I don’t do that.”

His expression was utterly serious. “It never would have occurred to me to ask you to.”

She hesitated. She was tempted to mutter abandon hope all ye that enter here but she thought Dante probably wasn’t appropriate. Then again, Nicholas spoke Latin, so Renaissance Italian wouldn’t have been so far off.

He pulled her down the passageway again. “No flinging.”

She gulped down a bracing bit of chilly passageway air and surrendered without a fight. “All right.”

“Good,” he said, sounding satisfied. “Now, let us hurry, before the lads eat everything.”

She took another deep breath and followed him down the stairs. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She could spend the next two weeks with him and remain unaffected.

She was almost sure of it.

Soon she was sitting at the table with him and his younger brothers and enjoying another in what was becoming a string of very fine meals. She finished, then realized that someone was missing.

“Where’s Robin?” she asked.

“He’s out in the lists, I imagine,” Nicholas said, sitting back in his chair. “He must leave this afternoon to fetch Anne and his lads from their yearly fortnight of torture at Fenwyck. He is no doubt indulging in a few hours of training before he’s forced to go be polite to Anne’s sire.”

“Torture?” she echoed. “Doesn’t he get along with his wife’s family?”

“I’ll answer that,” Miles volunteered. “Nay, he does not, though I daresay he has reason. Geoffrey of Fenwyck never liked him and sought any reason to prevent him from wedding Anne. Of course, Robin did his part to provide as many of those reasons as possible.”

“Flings,” Nicholas clarified.

Jennifer looked at him. “Flings? Before they were married?”

Nicholas nodded. “But given that all his flings were blonde and Anne knew he flung them in an effort to forget her, I suppose she doesn’t fault him overmuch.”

Jennifer smiled to herself. She would have to be more careful with her words or she would have the entire place messing up future editions of the Oxford English Dictionary.

“Interesting,” she murmured.

“Interesting is watching Robin and Nick train,” Miles noted. “We might, if you like.”

Jennifer turned to Nicholas. “Is that what you do after breakfast?”

“Generally,” Nicholas said. “When I’m home with Robin. He demands sport as often each day as he can have it.”

Jennifer looked at Miles. “And you? What do you do now?”

“Wait until Nick has worn Robin down before I venture into the lists,” he said with twinkling eyes. “Today, though, perhaps the little lads will keep you company whilst Nick and I train.”

“I won’t have time after Robin has gone,” Nicholas said, “because Jennifer and I will be in Mother’s solar where she will take her ease and I will play the lute for her.”

“Might I come?” Montgomery asked. “I like it when you play the lute, Nick.”

Nicholas pursed his lips. “We’ll see. Be my squire this morning and I’ll consider it.”

Montgomery leaped to his feet. “Mail shirt or leather jerkin, Nick?”

“How long has Robin been outside?”

“Two hours.”

“Leather jerkin then,” Nicholas said. “The garrison will at least have the edge taken off him. Do you mind?”

Jennifer realized he was asking her. “Mind what?”

“If I train?”

“Nicholas, I’m not going to tell you what to do with your day. But,” she added, “I will listen to your lute playing this afternoon.”

He smiled. “I will endeavor to please you. With your permission?”

Jennifer watched him leave with both Montgomery and John bounding after him. She sat back, then realized Miles was staring at her. She smiled reflexively. “Yes?”

He shook his head. “I was just looking.”

“What did you see?”

“What Nick sees, I imagine.”

“And that would be?” she asked uneasily.

“A woman so far superior to anything he’s ever met that it’s a wonder he can draw a decent breath.”

Jennifer laughed. “You are a flatterer. I’m sure your brother has scores of women trailing after him, trying to catch his eye.”

“Oh, he does,” Miles said, “but none to equal you.” He took her hand and kissed it briefly. “I should be so fortunate.” He looked at her for another moment or two, then smiled and rose. “Let us go, shall we? I’d best escort you out now, before Nick comes in to find out why I haven’t.”

She nodded and rose with him to walk around the high table. She followed him out of the hall and down the stairs into Artane’s courtyard. Today, though, it didn’t seem so strange and that in itself was a little strange. She walked across the dirt with only a slight jarring of her sense of reality when she heard men swearing in the lists and the blacksmith’s hammer pounding in the still morning air. The mist, however, felt familiar, and the smell of the ocean was comforting. She was comfortable with Miles in a brotherly sort of way. She had on a good dress and she had shoes that fit.

What wasn’t to like about that?

Miles produced a cloak and put it around her shoulders. “I’ll show you where you might sit and best observe the mayhem.”

Jennifer hugged the wall with him and walked along until he stopped her and showed her a stone bench. She noticed that Montgomery and John were standing farther down the wall, watching intently. She sat down, then realized why.

All right, so she had seen Nicholas do a little damage to Ledenham. She’d watched him in the lists trying to sweat out the last of Ledenham’s poison. She had even watched him go at Miles at the abbey. But now she realized he hadn’t been all that serious before.

She wondered if she would be the one to manage to take a decent breath at any time in the foreseeable future.

There was no question that Robin de Piaget was an absolute master. He was aggressive, ruthless, and quite loud in his taunts. He was everything she had expected he would be, given his propensity to grin at things that amused him and needle his brothers at every opportunity. He was strong, fast, and relentless. He reminded her a little of James MacLeod, who intimidated first by his sheer presence, then finished with the killing blow of perfect technique.

But Nicholas ...

Her mouth went unaccountably dry.

She was no expert in assessing the skill of swordsmen—her stays in Scotland and her association with Connor MacDougal aside—but it looked to her as though Nicholas was every bit his brother’s equal.

But the frightening part was, he was quieter about it.

And no doubt deadlier because of it.

It didn’t matter how ferocious Robin’s attack was, Nicholas gave no ground. It didn’t seem to make any difference how many jaw-droppingly rude comments Robin made to him or about him, he ignored them and wore nonchalance like a shield.

“Nicholas is,” Miles said quietly, “as you can see, the only one who gives Robin decent sport.”

“What of your father?” Jennifer croaked.

“My father taught them all he knows.” He smiled at her. “He holds his own still.”

“Are they showing off?” she managed.

Miles looked at them thoughtfully, then shook his head.

“Indeed, I daresay they are holding back so as not to upset your delicate humors.”

She looked at him in surprise, then saw the hint of a smile. “You’re terrible.”

“Thank you.”

She turned back to look at the combatants. “They’re very good, aren’t they?”

“None better in England or France,” Miles said easily. “And they are equally matched, though Robin would prefer death to that admission.”

“And Nicholas says nothing?”

“What do you think?”

“I think Nicholas is a very, very dangerous man.”

“I know my delicate humors are at peace when he’s guarding my back.”

Jennifer pulled the cloak closer around her, leaned back against the damp stone, and watched everyday life in medieval England go on in front of her. It was no wonder the men were in such good shape. No time at the gym, just time with a sword in a muddy field. She started to wonder if they enjoyed it or if it was drudgery, then Robin said something particularly vile to Nicholas.

And Nicholas laughed.

She was enormously grateful she was sitting down.

Maybe the stories had been true and he was perfect. She could easily see how every man with a son might want Nicholas to train him. She could see how any king with a battle to win might want him involved. She could also see how every woman who ever laid eyes on him would fall all over herself to get him to look at her just once. She could only imagine what a woman would be willing to do to have him look at her twice.

And she had tried to get out of their fortnight?

What was she, nuts?

She watched for quite a while, until the mists thinned and the day began to warm. It could have been an hour, it could have been three. All she knew was that she just couldn’t look away from Nicholas de Piaget.

She was beginning to think he’d fully earned his place in Artane lore.

“Wine?”

A midmorning cup was just the thing for her, surely. She accepted a cup from Miles and drank happily. It was probably better than the water and it certainly settled her nerves. She clutched the cup and allowed herself for the first time to look at Nicholas without attaching all sorts of checks for her common sense to sift through.

He was gorgeous. Yes, she had thought that from the start. But now, she noticed different things. She noticed how the mist plastered his fair hair to his head and how it stuck up here and there when he dragged his sleeve across his face to get the sweat out of his eyes. She noticed how his laugh lit up his entire face and made her want to smile reflexively. Robin was astonishing, but there was something so lethally polished about Nicholas. She could understand now why Miles despaired of ever seeing him in a towering rage. Even dripping with sweat and obviously working quite hard, he looked elegant.

“He is beautiful,” she said, then clapped her hand over her mouth. She looked at Miles with wide eyes. “Ah,” she said quickly.

Miles smiled. “I’ll keep your secret.”

“Ha,” she said with a snort.

“I provoked Nicholas for a reason. I wanted to see the man you’re looking at now.”

She smiled. “Then I’ll admit it was worth it. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Said what?”

Jennifer looked up and saw that the guys had apparently finished with their work. Nicholas was standing far enough away that he didn’t drip on her, but close enough that he’d obviously heard her.

“I said that it was worth the trip out in the damp to see you two try to kill each other,” she said quickly.

Robin waved his hand dismissively. “Light exercise. I didn’t want to do him any damage, given that he intends to pass his afternoon indulging in manly labor with a lute.”

“Why don’t you go,” Nicholas suggested. “Now. And be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Robin said. He bowed to Jennifer. “I’ll bring you better company than this fool here in the person of my Anne. Hold out hope for that.” He looked at Miles. “Behave and keep the little ones in line.” He clapped Nicholas on the shoulder, then walked back off toward the hall.

Nicholas resheathed his sword, then smiled. “I’d help you up, but you may not want to touch me.”

She held out her hand and he took it and pulled her to her feet. “I have a high tolerance for lots of things,” she said with a smile. “Just don’t think I’m going to come out here and pick up a sword with you.”

He looked surprised. “You don’t think I would treat you as I do Robin.”

“I don’t know what you would do,” she admitted with a shaky laugh.

He smiled. “You needn’t feel you must indulge me. It was an offer made mostly in jest.”

“Oh, I would come,” she said honestly. “Just don’t expect too much.”

“I’ll expect nothing and simply content myself with the pleasure of your company,” he said. “But not today. Today, I think, demands an afternoon of leisure in my mother’s solar. And aye, Montgomery, you’can come.”

“And me?” John asked.

“And me?” Miles drawled.

Nicholas looked at her and sighed. “I see no hope of escape.”

“I like your brothers.”

“Unfortunately, they seem to be enamored of you as well. Perhaps my playing will soothe them to sleep and then we will be free of them.”

“And then what will we do?”

He smiled with a shrug. “The telling of secrets is out, I suppose. We’ll think of something.”

I’ll just stare at you would have been first on her list, but she suspected that it wouldn’t be wise to say as much, so she simply walked back with him to the great hall and kept her thoughts to herself. She was acutely aware of him and what she’d just seen in the lists. It was amazing that he could be so lethal one moment and so pleasant the next.

She wondered just how in over her head she was getting.

She supposed that might be a thought she should avoid contemplating too much for the next thirteen days.

Half an hour later she was seated in a comfortable chair in Gwennelyn de Piaget’s solar with a fire in the hearth and a freshly washed lord of Wyckham plying his lute.

His voice was as perfect as the rest of him and he played better than any of the men from the night before. He had an enormous repertoire of songs, so many that she thought she might have to listen to them more than once to learn them all.

The rest of the morning passed most pleasantly, with Montgomery having been sent at one point for food. The afternoon was equally lovely, with nothing but music and conversation to enjoy. By the time Nicholas got up to light candles, Montgomery and John were snoring on a rug in front of the fire and Miles was snoring in a chair. Nicholas sat back down and looked at them in disgust.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” she asked with a smile.

“Aye,” he admitted. “It was.”

She looked at him and wanted to ask him a dozen questions, beginning and ending with why in the world he didn’t find himself married already. Surely there had to have been at least one girl he could have proposed to. Surely there had been at least one girl who could have overlooked the matter of his birth.

Then she realized that he was smiling at her. “What?” she asked, smiling reflexively in return.

“You were scrutinizing me. I think perhaps I should be afraid.”

“Are you ever afraid?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not often.”

“I didn’t imagine so.” She paused. “Thank you for a lovely day.”

“Ten-and-three remaining,” he said pleasantly. He set his lute aside. “What would you do tomorrow?”

She looked into the fire for several moments, then looked back at him. “Is this how all your days go?” she asked. “So easily?”

“Nay,” Miles said, smacking his lips a time or two. “Generally his days begin much earlier and end later, with more work between dawn and dusk. One would think he was wooing, what with all the lute playing he’s done today.”

Nicholas reached over and smacked Miles smartly on the back of the head. Miles only laughed, stretched, and rose.

“I’ll see if supper might be ready soon. Don’t say anything important while I’m gone.”

Nicholas threw him a glare, then turned back to her and his expression softened. “I suppose he has it aright about the earliness of the hour usually.”

“Would you mind if I just followed you around tomorrow to see what you do?”

“If you like.”

She suspected she would like it far too much. “Yes,” she said. “I would.”

“Done, then. Let us go find supper.”

She nodded with a smile, then let him pull her up. She tripped over the rug at her feet and fell into his arms. Then she made the enormous mistake of looking up into his very lovely gray eyes.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said, holding her gently by the arms. “Steady now?”

“Not entirely.”

He laughed, put his arm around her shoulders, and turned her toward the door. “Food. It is our only hope.”

She went with him and decided that maybe she would quote Dante for him. Hope? Hope that she would emerge intact from a fortnight spent in his company? Hope that she could keep herself from falling in love with him?

Impossible.

“You’re thinking,” he said in a singsong voice.

“Oh, no,” she said with a half laugh. “No more of that. I’m convinced.”

“Good.”

She took his arm as they walked down the passageway as easily as if she’d been doing it her entire life, ate next to him without feeling the slightest bit of discomfort, and finally went to bed in his sister’s bedroom without finding it at all unusual.

Convinced? Yes, she was convinced.

Convinced she was in deep trouble.