Page 26 of When I Fall in Love (De Piaget #4)

J ennifer held on as Nicholas’s horse galloped down the beach. It was spectacularly romantic and she wished she’d had music worthy of it playing in the background. But since she didn’t, she simply held on and enjoyed the fact that she was out of the viper’s pit she’d been living in for the past day and a half. It had made her wish she didn’t understand medieval Norman French so well. Heaven help her, but she couldn’t go work for any of the harpies Lady Joanna had brought to Artane.

She could hardly bring herself to hope she might not have to.

Nicholas turned his horse away from the water and rode back inland until they reached the edge of a forest. He walked the horse until he found a glade, then reined him in. He slid down, then turned and held up his arms for her.

She fell into them as if she’d been doing it every day of her life.

He clutched her to him and buried his face in her hair. “I missed you,” he said in a muffled voice.

She let out the breath she’d been holding and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I missed you, too.”

He let her slide down to her feet, then looked at her gravely. “Did you?”

She smiled. “I’m a little afraid to admit how much.”

“I’m not,” he said. He pulled her hair down, then smoothed his hand over it. “I cursed every moment and every league that separated us. It was dreadful.” He bent his head toward her, then hesitated. “May I kiss you?”

She couldn’t help a breathless laugh. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I fear that once I begin, I won’t be able to stop.”

“What of your legendary self-control?”

“I lost it along the strand somewhere.”

She smiled. “Then kiss me and we’ll just hope for the best.”

He did.

In fact, he kissed her so long and so well that she began to wonder if her self-control might be on its way out. Finally, he lifted his head and looked down at her. For the first time, his eyes were a dark gray. She reached up to push his hair out of his eyes.

“Your eyes are stormy,” she said with a smile.

“I am undone.”

“Poor man.”

He leaned his forehead on hers. “You’ve no idea,” he whispered.

“Actually,” she said with a shaky laugh, “I think I know exactly what you’re talking about. We’re in trouble.”

“I agree. We’d best find somewhere to sit before my knees are no longer equal to holding me up.”

She reached up and touched his face. “You look tired. You sit and I’ll go look for something green for lunch—”

“Please, nay,” he said, laughing. “No salad. I brought food.”

Jennifer watched him fetch a saddlebag from his horse. He walked back over to her and led her over to sit on a log. Jennifer sat down gratefully, as she wasn’t sure how steady on her feet she was going to be. She’d forgotten, over the past day, just how handsome he was.

And that apparently, in spite of her earlier fears, he was rather fond of her.

Nicholas dug things out of his saddlebag, then slid her a sideways look. “Have you eaten today?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t remember.”

She felt his arm slip around her shoulders. He pulled her close and held her for a moment in silence, then released her and ran his hand over her hair.

“Forgive me that I did not return as I said I would,” he said quietly.

“Where did you go?” she asked, then she shook her head. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me—”

“Of course I’ll tell you,” he said easily. “I went to Raventhorpe, to see to business with my sister and her husband. My father’s stallion threw me on the way back. I walked home.”

“How far is Raventhorpe?”

“I’d say about twelve leagues.”

“Twelve leagues?” she echoed. The man had walked thirty-six miles to get home? “You’re a fast walker.”

“I ran, mostly.”

“Why didn’t you just go back and borrow another horse?”

“Because Raventhorpe was the wrong direction.”

She felt a little faint. “I see.”

“I hope you do.” He leaned over and kissed her, then handed her bread. “You had best have that whilst you can. I can think of far more interesting things for you to do than eat.”

Jennifer couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I suppose I can, too.”

Lunch was, as always, up to Artane’s usual standards of quality. Jennifer drank from the bottle like any good medieval gal on a picnic would have, then handed it to Nicholas.

“So,” she said casually, “how was Amanda?”

He choked. “You know too many of my secrets and I know too few of yours.”

“I was willing to tell them, but you wanted a fortnight of silence.”

He smiled ruefully. “Aye, I know. And to answer you, Amanda was as she always is—feisty, outspoken, and lovely. She’s coming to visit in a se’nnight. I daresay you’ll find her to be a kindred spirit.”

“Was she happy to see you?”

“I am her favorite brother,” Nicholas said, “though perhaps not, of late. I kissed their young daughter, left with good wishes for returning to Artane, and prayed I would find you still here.”

“Where else would I go?” she asked lightly.

“The question is,” he began slowly, “where else would you go if you could?”

She looked at him in surprise, but he was studying his hands.

“Which is not a good question for today,” he said, taking a deep breath, “for I fear I could not bear the answer.” He flashed her a weary smile. “Especially if it wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear.” He rubbed his face with his hands suddenly. “I haven’t slept.”

“I imagine you haven’t slept in a couple of days.” She put her hand on his back and rubbed it gently. “Why don’t you take a nap.”

He smiled dryly. “How interesting it will be to watch me sleep.”

She stroked his hair for a moment or two, then tucked some of it behind his ear. “Actually, it sounds like a great way to spend the afternoon. I get to ogle you without worrying what you’ll think of me.”

“Ogle?”

She bit her tongue, then smiled. “Sorry. A word from home. It means to stare at in a lustful way.”

“You?” he asked doubtfully, but his eyes were twinkling.

“I’m not a complete prude,” she said. “I can appreciate the sight of a good man as well as the next woman. And when the sight happens to be you—” She shrugged. “How can I help myself?”

He stood up and pulled her to her feet. He slowly wrapped his arms around her and smiled down at her.

Then he kissed her.

By the time he lifted his head, she wasn’t sure she was ever going to catch her breath.

“Are you going to actually manage to sleep now?” she gasped.

“I doubt it,” he said, then rested his forehead against hers. “By the saints, Jennifer McKinnon, you have vanquished me. If only I had the strength to allow you to vanquish me a bit more.”

She pulled away and took off Montgomery’s cloak. She laid it on a patch of ground near the log that was fairly free of rocks and roots and, thanks to the trees, free from the drizzle she could see had started up.

“Take a nap.”

“So you might ogle?”

She smiled. “Of course.”

He hesitated. “I think—”

“Too much. Lie down, Nicholas, and get some sleep. I can keep watch over you. Trust me, I really don’t mind.”

He drew his sword. He stretched out on Montgomery’s cloak and laid his sword down beside him.

“Wake me if you hear anything.”

“I will.” She sat down on the log, put her elbows on her knees and her chin on her fists, then watched him.

He smiled, then his eyes closed. Within moments, he was sound asleep.

Jennifer indulged in her lusting with reckless abandon. It was dangerous, but she didn’t care. He was just perfection, from the flawlessness of his face, to the manly set of his boots. She could hardly believe that three months ago she had been in Manhattan, fighting off a groping attempt by Michael McGillicuty and thinking that life was just not going to get any better.

Now, she was sitting on a log in medieval England, still tingling from the kisses of a legendary medieval knight, and starting to truly believe he had feelings for her.

She looked for quite a while longer, then sighed and turned to stare at the shore she could see in the distance. She wondered if Megan was looking at that same view. Was her mother? Had her family flown over only to waste time and money looking for her? Would they figure out there was a gate at Ledenham’s abbey and try it only to have it never bring them to the right place?

She sighed. They would be frantic and there would be no way at all to find out what had happened to her.

And what would happen to her? Would the handsome knight propose to the scullery maid and turn her into a lady? Or would she live and die in obscurity, forced to serve one of the complete shrews currently inside Artane’s hallowed halls?

“Jennifer, you’re thinking again.”

She dragged her sleeve across her eyes and looked at him. His eyes were closed. “I wasn’t.”

“You were. I could tell.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

He opened one eye and looked at her. “I sleep very lightly.”

“Too lightly, apparently.”

He opened both eyes and looked at her blearily. “What is it?”

She shrugged. “I can’t help but think a little, but it wasn’t about ... well, it wasn’t about our fortnight.”

He held out his hand. She put her hand in his and let him pull her down to sit next to him.

“Tell me what, then,” he murmured.

“Later,” she said, leaning against his side. “When you wake back up.”

“I should argue. I will, when I can keep my eyes open.”

“You do that,” she said with a smile.

For a while he stroked her back and smiled sleepily. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning over now and again to kiss his cheek, his mouth, his closed eyes.

He opened those beautiful gray eyes at one point and looked at her. “Lady,” he said seriously, “my self-control is almost to the breaking point.”

She smiled. “I’ll leave you alone, then.”

He caught her about the waist as she pulled away. “Stay,” he said. “But...”

“But stop kissing you?”

“If you have any pity in you at all, aye,” he said with a smile. Then he shook his head. “Truly I am unwholesomely weary. I can scarce believe what I’m saying.”

She stroked his cheek. “I’ll leave you alone until you’re more yourself. But I will look.”

She did, for most of the afternoon. Eventually, she crawled to her feet and stretched the kink out of her back. She took Nicholas’s saddlebag back to his horse, then wandered over to sit on her log. She sighed deeply, enjoying the sound of the sea and the smell of the rain.

Until a twig snapped behind her.

She wasn’t quite sure what happened after that, but one minute she was in the middle of turning around to see what was behind her, and the next, Nicholas was on his feet and she’d been pulled behind him. He was fully awake, with his sword in his hand and his body completely tensed for battle.

Jennifer shivered. He had been, just the moment before, deeply asleep. She had forgotten for a moment just what he was capable of.

“No threat, mate,” said a male voice.

“Is that so?” Nicholas asked quietly.

Jennifer peeked around him. A very large, very scruffy man stood there, a knife in his hands and a rotten-toothed smile on his face.

“Then again,” the man said, drawing his sword and grinning, “per‘aps there is. Yer lassie there is quite fetching. I think I’d like to ’ave ’er.”

“I don’t think you’ll manage that,” Nicholas said mildly, “for you’ll need to go through me first.”

“With pleasure.”

Jennifer backed away as they engaged each other. She snatched up Montgomery’s cloak once Nicholas was off it, then bumped into something behind her. She whirled around and found herself facing another man the same size as the first.

“I believe I’ll be havin’ ye first,” the man said, drawing a knife.

Jennifer realized immediately that Nicholas couldn’t take care of both of them at once. Well, actually he probably could have, but she didn’t want to test it when she might be able to help.

Though her first instinct was to shout at the man and try to make him think she was too feisty for the effort, she had the feeling it was the wrong choice. The man facing her was obviously not one to be discouraged so easily.

She dug deep for her best acting emotion and began to weep piteously. The man laughed and started to loosen his belt. Jennifer cowered until he was close enough, then she kicked the knife out of his hands. She flung Montgomery’s cloak into his face, then kicked him as hard as she could in the groin. When he was doubled over, she grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head down. She brought her knee up as hard as she could into his nose.

He stumbled away, howling.

“Jennifer, my horse!” Nicholas shouted.

Jennifer grabbed Montgomery’s cloak, then ran for Nicholas’s horse and swung up into the saddle. She held the reins and watched as he fought the first man ferociously, giving their attacker no choice but to hold up his sword like a shield. Nicholas punched the first man in the face. Jennifer heard the man’s nose break from where she sat. Nicholas backhanded the second, sending him sprawling, then resheathed his sword and ran for the horse. He pulled himself up behind her.

“Go!” he shouted, kicking his horse into a gallop.

Jennifer hung on to the reins and hoped they wouldn’t fall off.

“I should have killed the whoresons,” he growled into her ear.

She shook her head. “Not worth it,” she shouted into the wind.

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “You were magnificent.”

“No,” she said, with a shaky laugh, “I was terrified.”

He was silent until they reached the village, then he took the reins from her and slowed his horse to a walk. “I fear there was more to it than a simple assault by ruffians.”

“What do you mean?”

“I suspect Ledenham.”

She turned her head to look at him. “Really?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” he said grimly. “We won’t go out again without guardsmen.”

They rode through the village, through the barbican gate, into the inner bailey, and on to the stables. A stable lad came over to take Nicholas’s horse as Nicholas swung down.

“Nay, lad, I’ll see to it, but thank you.”

“Of course, my lord Nicholas,” the boy said with a smile. “A good e’en to you.”

“And to you, lad,” Nicholas said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He turned and held up his arms for her.

Jennifer let him set her on her feet, then followed him into the stable and watched while he tended to his horse. She thought about the first time she’d watched him do the same thing. So much had changed. She never would have imagined, on that particular evening, that she would be sitting in the stables at Artane, watching him tend his horse, and waiting for him to turn around and look at her.

Affectionately.

As he was doing now.

Jennifer watched him lean back against the stall door and look at her for a moment. Then he held open his arms.

That was invitation enough. She jumped up and threw herself at him. He laughed as he caught her, then he smiled down at her purposefully.

“Heaven help me,” she managed before he proceeded to kiss her.

She put her arms around his neck and held on. When she finally had to break away to breathe, she was light-headed and laughing.

“Meet me here after supper,” he cajoled.

“Do you have to ask?”

“Tomorrow, too?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And the next day? And the day after that?”

She buried her face in his neck. “That is starting to sound serious.”

“We have another se’nnight,” Nicholas whispered against her ear, “and then we will have serious speech indeed.” He pulled back and looked at her. “Until then,” he said kissing her briefly, “let me woo you.”

“Anything you say,” she said.

“What I would like to say is farewell to the madness inside, but I fear it may go on for a bit yet.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I will begrudge my grandmother every moment that is not spent with you. We’ll make do for the next day or two, then see if my grandmother won’t start for home. Until then, just ignore the wenches she brought. I certainly intend to.”

“Do you?” she mused.

He shook his head wryly. “Jennifer McKinnon, if I kiss you any more in an effort to convince you of that, I’ll be unable to walk back to the hall and you’ll be forced to carry me. Instead, believe my words as we seek out supper and a chaperon. It may be our only hope.”

He took her hand and Montgomery’s cloak, then led her from the stables. She walked with him across the courtyard toward the great hall. He looked up and stopped still. “Damn.”

“What?”

“My father,” he said, “and he wears a particularly paternal mein.”

“Is he going to lock me in Isabelle’s chamber for keeping you out too late?”

“I imagine he’ll lock me in Isabelle’s chamber for a like reason.”

“Let go of my hand then,” she said, trying to pull away.

“Nay,” he said cheerfully.

He pulled her up the steps with him and stopped a pair of steps below his father. “Papa,” he said pleasantly, with a small bow.

Jennifer bobbed a curtsey for good measure.

“I daresay,” Rhys said sternly, “that ’tis a trifle late to have a lady of breeding out of her hall, wouldn’t you agree, son?”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Father, I am a score and eight.

I daresay I am old enough to determine what is suitable or not. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Jennifer found herself the recipient of Rhys de Piaget’s gaze, but when turned her way it became quite a bit friendlier. He held out his hand and gave her that devastating de Piaget smile that all his boys seemed to have mastered. She put her free hand in Rhys’s and allowed him to pull her away from Nicholas as if she hadn’t a competent thought in her head. Rhys de Piaget was stunning. It was obvious where Nicholas had come by not only his looks but his charm.

Rhys tucked her hand under his arm and smiled at her in a way that made her want to agree to whatever he wanted before he even asked.

“Daughter, since your own father isn’t here to keep you safe, and demand that you be wooed properly,” he added with a dark look thrown Nicholas’s way, “allow me the honor of doing so.”

“Of course, my lord,” she said, mesmerized beyond reason.

“Jennifer!” Nicholas exclaimed.

Rhys turned a stern look on him. “And you, whelp, will treat her with the respect and honor she deserves. She should be chaperoned. She should be wooed in plain sight.”

“We were in plain sight!” Nicholas bellowed. He paused. “Well, we would have been if anyone had been passing.” He glared at his father. “Nothing happened!”

“She’s wearing your brother’s clothes.”

“It was a disguise.”

Rhys pursed his lips, then turned to Jennifer with a smile. “Come with me, Mistress McKinnon, and let me put you in the care of my sweet wife.”

“Father!” Nicholas protested.

“I understand there will be music for dancing tomorrow night,” Rhys said, turning to look at him coolly. “Bathe beforehand, and perhaps this lovely maid will favor you with a turn.” He turned Jennifer around and walked up the stairs. “I assume my son has fed you today, or are you hungry?”

She smiled up at Rhys. “He did feed me, my lord, and he was very chivalrous and solicitous.”

She thought it was probably best not to mention anything about swords.

Or kissing.

“It is fortunate for him that his chivalry was in full flower, else I would be forced to meet him in the lists. And believe me, my girl, when I tell you that I can still best all my sons.”

“I believe it, my lord. And it is obvious to me that your blood flows through their veins. Nicholas has shown me sword skill that has left me breathless.”

Nicholas grunted, but said nothing.

Jennifer followed Rhys into the hall and saw, to her dismay, that it was full of the usual suspects milling about, listening to music being played. She hesitated in midstep thanks to the glares she caught the moment she was noticed.

What she tried not to notice, however, was how Rhys smoothly and unobtrusively put himself between her and the company in the great hall. He put his arm around her and walked with her along the left side of the hall and down the passageway to the kitchen.

He made her a place at the worktable, allowed Nicholas to sit next to her, then chatted pleasantly with Cook while a private supper was prepared for them. Jennifer looked at Nicholas.

“Hello.”

He smiled wryly. “Aye and that may be as close as we come to a friendly greeting.” He reached under the table and took her hand. “My father, your protector.”

“He’s very kind.”

Nicholas grunted. “Aye, I suppose so. If it means we might avoid dining with the full company in the hall, then I might just have to agree with your opinion of him.”

But he scowled at his father just the same as he served them supper.

Jennifer smiled as she ate with one hand and held Nicholas’s hand under the table with the other.

“The lengths we must go to,” Nicholas grumbled.

She smiled at him. “It could be worse.”

“Aye, my father could be sitting between us.”

“Don’t give him any ideas.” She paused. “Nicholas?”

“Aye, love?”

She smiled reflexively at the term. “I was just thinking I wanted to learn to use a sword. Better than just a few swings on the beach.”

He looked at her gravely. “Today was frightening, no doubt.”

“Weren’t you frightened?”

“For myself? Nay. For you? Aye, terrified. But you managed quite well.”

She nodded. “You’ll help me?”

“Always.”

“Where?”

He considered. “The tower chamber. Perhaps we’ll steal Robin’s page to keep watch for us.”

“Does Robin have a page?”

“Aye, Christopher of Blackmour. It will give the lad a respite from Robin’s dawn-to-dusk training regimen. Perhaps we’ll even invite him in whilst we work, so he can see good technique.”

She smiled. “You’re terrible.”

“Robin deserves it, wouldn’t you say?” Nicholas asked. “Keep Montgomery’s clothes. When I have a sword secured, I’ll send Christopher for you. No one will be the wiser.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Surely not,” he said, handing her a cup of wine. “Yet another reason to pass time in your sweet company? The pleasure, believe me, is all mine.”

“What time? What pleasure?”

Jennifer looked up to see Rhys leaning on the table and peering intently at his son.

“Time for bed, wouldn’t you say?” Nicholas said cheerfully. “I’ll walk my lady upstairs.”

“We’ll go together.”

Nicholas protested, but it was in vain. Jennifer soon found herself being escorted by both men. She managed to get through the great hall with a minimum of fuss. There was a bit of elbowing between the two men as they went up the stairs, but eventually Isabelle’s door was reached. Nicholas looked at his father.

“Isn’t Grandmère enough of a chaperon?” he complained.

“I daresay she isn’t,” Rhys said pointedly. “Now, kiss your lady’s hand and be off with you.”

Nicholas swore at his father, then turned and gave Jennifer a look that would have made her want to fan herself if he hadn’t had hold of her hand. He bent over that same hand and very chastely kissed it.

“Meet me later on the roof,” he said in Gaelic.

“You forget that I speak that tongue as well,” Rhys said in the same language. “And nay,” he said, removing Jennifer’s hand from his son’s and continuing on in French, “she will not meet you on the roof.”

Nicholas glared at his father. “Did I ask for your aid in this?”

Rhys pointed down the passageway. “Go, whelp, before you force me to remind you who is the superior warrior.”

Nicholas pursed his lips, then looked at Jennifer. “Tomorrow, then, my lady.” He patted his sword meaningfully. “Our only hope.” He handed her Montgomery’s cloak. “You might need this as well.”

Rhys took Jennifer’s face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. “A good sleep to you, my dear.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

He shooed her inside. She smiled at Nicholas, then went inside and shut the door.

She wanted to laugh, but she thought it might be best to just go to sleep. She wished desperately for a journal. Her entry would have included an afternoon with a magnificent man, a brush with death, and being adopted by a powerful medieval lord.

It had been a fairly good day.

She wondered briefly whether or not Nicholas was right about Ledenham being behind their little attack, then put it out of her mind. If nothing else, she would gain some sword skill. She supposed in the Middle Ages, that could only be a good thing.

And that would give her more time with Nicholas.

And that was the best thing of all.