At His Command-Historical Romance Version (30 page)

Amice gasped. She looked around as if trying to catch sight of an enemy. Her pretty mouth tightened. “I see. Do what you think best.”

Harry itched to make his presence known, but forced himself to wait, even as Amice’s gaze took in the tree he hid behind.

Martin signaled for two knights to stay. He mounted and led the others away.

Amice hovered over Nicholas. The tears gathering in her eyes burned Harry’s gut like sour milk.

He couldn’t take two knights with only a dull eating knife. But perhaps he could distract them long enough to get Amice on a horse…. Taking a deep breath, he picked up a heavy rock.

This could very well be his final chance.

Harry threw with all his might. The rock landed with a loud thud on larger rock. One of the men, sword drawn, hurried toward the sound. Harry picked up a small boulder. As the man passed Harry’s tree, Harry hit him on the back of the head. The knight dropped to the ground with a thump.

Amice and the remaining knight looked worried. He shook his head, clearly not wanting to leave her alone. He drew his sword and looked from side to side.

When he turned his back, Harry hurried from his hiding place and smashed the knight’s head with a rock. The man fell at his feet.

Two knights in two minutes. Harry smiled at his prowess as he grabbed Amice from behind and hauled her onto the nearest horse. At first she must’ve been too stunned to scream, but as Harry clambered up behind her she found her voice. Though he doubted anyone would hear, she screamed so loud Harry wondered if he’d ever hear out of his right ear again.

“Let me go! Help! To me!” she shouted.

Harry reached around Amice to grab the reins, but she writhed and twisted. The horse ran as though his life depended on it.

“Fool!” Harry yelled. “Do you think to jump?”

She took the reins and tried to haul the horse in. Amice’s hair flew behind her, getting in his eyes. The mass of curls itched, but he couldn’t release her or the reins.

His every dream hinged on the next few moments.

From the depths of unconsciousness, Nicholas heard a faint scream that grew louder and faded. His pain-dulled senses recognized Amice’s voice. Compelling himself to awaken, to move, he opened his eyes to see her on a horse galloping into the distance.

Where was she going in such a hurry, away from Castle Rising and without him? Why was she screaming? Throbbing agony in his left arm, which must’ve broken when he fell, prevented him from thinking clearly.

Someone rode with her. Harry. Holding her.

Ignoring the pain as best he could, he stood and mounted Merlin, who’d been placidly munching grass. As Nicholas cradled his injured arm to his chest against the bouncing gait, he and Merlin sped toward Amice and Harry. His heart raced faster than his horse.

Slowly they gained on Amice. If anything happened to her…. She meant everything to him. He could not, would not, lose her.

“Amice!” he yelled.

Hooves pounded ever closer toward Amice, drums of doom sounding for Harry. His horse breathed heavily and slowed. “Go, go, go, you sluggard!”

He twisted. A furious Nicholas approached, left arm pressed against his chest. Damn the man, how had he mounted and caught up so fast?

Harry kicked and kicked as he led his horse toward the right side of the road.

With an injured arm, Nicholas couldn’t pull either of them down. He drew alongside and edged sideways to cut them off. Despite Harry’s desperate kicks, his horse trotted to a halt.

There was no place to hide.

Amice slid down as Nicholas pulled a sword from a saddlebag, pointing it at Harry.

Who had no weapon, nothing with which to defend himself.

“Let’s make this a fair fight.” Nicholas tossed him the sword.

Before Harry could grab it, Nicholas had drawn a second sword.

Amice cried, “Nicholas, no!”

“It’s the only way, Amice. I can’t kill him without giving him the chance to defend himself.” He dismounted with care.

Harry and Nicholas assumed the age-old positions of adversaries. Sweat dripped down Harry’s face as they circled. Nicholas appeared calm, as though he awaited a meal instead of a fight to the death.

“Wait,” Amice ordered, pulling the cloth sash from her gown. She wrapped it around Nicholas’s neck, then secured his arm against his chest.

Harry chafed at the delay, but feared he’d hurt Amice if he attacked.

She gazed at Nicholas with obvious love.

That was all Harry needed to see. He lunged at his rival, pushing Amice aside. She stumbled back, out of harm’s way.

Harry knew he was no match for the king’s man, but fought with the recklessness of one who had nothing to lose. Nicholas swatted Harry’s strikes like a horse swishing its tail at flies.

How could Nicholas exert minimal effort, while he, Harry, was almost too weary to stand? With no thought to technique, he swung and swung.

Floodwaters of panic rushed through Harry’s veins. He was running out of energy, and thus out of time. Any second he expected to feel Nicholas’s blade slice through him.

To watch his lifeblood spill into the dirt.

Still parrying Harry’s swings with ease when Martin and the others rode into view, Nicholas said, “Take him. And give strict, specific orders to keep him secure. We’ll turn him over to the King’s Bench and let them hand down a sentence. He’s not worth killing.”

With that, Nicholas moved in, coming alive as he pounced on Harry. A single stroke sent Harry’s sword flying. Defenseless, Harry had no choice but to submit to Martin. Harry hung his head.

Martin tied Harry’s hands behind his back.

Nicholas said, “You ride on, we’ll follow.”

Despite the throbbing agony in his arm, he wanted a moment alone with Amice, to reassure himself she was all right.

His heart still raced too fast. He could’ve lost her.

As the others rode back to Castle Rising, Amice rushed to Nicholas’s uninjured side to receive a one-armed hug. Their lips met with the passion of reprieve and the aftermath of danger. Despite his pain, despite standing in the middle of the road, he felt the sizzle of desire.

Nothing would keep her from him now.

“Amice,” he breathed.

Fat raindrops began to fall as they resumed their kiss, mouths melding. Rainwater slithered down their faces.

Sinking to their knees in the road, oblivious to the dirt, Nicholas pushed a damp strand of hair off Amice’s face. “Now,” he said.

He needed to reaffirm his life and love. Only she could do that for him.

“Here? Are you sure?”

“More than anything.”

The rain became a downpour. Not bothering to remove their drenched clothing, Nicholas reached under Amice’s skirts. He couldn’t undo his own garments with one hand, but Amice willingly applied herself to the task.

Nicholas knew this was love. He’d suffered a painful injury, they were soaked, in the middle of a public road, but their need for each other overrode their bizarre circumstances and actually heightened his desire. “I want to be inside you.”

She straddled him and guided him into her. Deeper, still deeper he plunged, then moaned with his release. Amice joined him seconds later with sweet gasps.

“How I love you,” he said.

“And I you.” She kissed him once more.

They mounted and rode toward Castle Rising. Toward home.

The first time he’d seen her, she was wet as she was now. Had some part of him known even then that she was the woman for him, the love of his life? He watched her with a small smile of satisfaction on her face.

To love and be loved was far better than anything he’d experienced. He couldn’t define what made Amice different, what made her inspire such deep feelings in him, and he no longer wanted to try.

All he needed to know was that he believed in their love.

The announcement of their wedding kept the gossips’ bellies full for days. Everyone clambered to attend, each woman trying to anticipate and outdo the bride’s finery.

Nicholas was honored that both York and Margaret would be present. He realized the gesture was also political, to prove the factions were getting along.

When Amice entered the crowded chapel, Nicholas’s heart stopped. She looked incredibly beautiful and radiant in a blue brocade gown. The amethyst necklace he’d given her sparkled around her neck along with her mother’s. But the gems couldn’t compete with the sparkle in her eyes.

When she stepped into his arms at the end of the ceremony, when his lips met hers for the first time as his wife, his heart overflowed with love.

During the feast, Nicholas ignored ribald jokes and suggestions shouted by guests succumbing to drink. He told his wife how beautiful she and her gown were.

“Remember the day we argued when I was dying wool? I’d wanted to match the color of your eyes, but the finest cloth I could buy or weave couldn’t replicate the shade. I happened upon this fabric at a market. The way it catches the light was exactly what I’d been hoping for.

“I planned to wear this gown for my wedding to another. Where only I would know it was a symbol of my love for you,” Amice said. “But now I can proclaim it to all.”

She leaned forward and kissed him.

“Yes,” he agreed. “We can proclaim our love to all.”

Belinda strolled up to their table. “I came to offer my good wishes to the happy couple.” Her tone was bitter, not friendly.

Nicholas decided Belinda should be found out. She didn’t deserve the praise and recognition she’d garnered for Amice’s work. Though the poems were scandalous and against Henry, though Nicholas couldn’t approve of them, York deserved the truth. For one thing, it would strengthen his and York’s reluctant alliance. For another, the protector needed to know who his true supporters were.

“My beauteous bride, I must speak briefly to York. I shall return shortly.” He bestowed a loving kiss on her, lest Belinda had any lingering hopes that he wasn’t a happy groom.

A few moments later, York stood and offered a toast to the newlywed couple. He turned to Belinda, seated nearby. “Lady Belinda, mayhap you could honor us with a verse in tribute to our friends?”

Belinda blushed and bit her lip. “Your Grace, I’d be happy to prepare a ballad, to be sung later. Composing cleverly takes thought.”

“Surely you can come up with a verse that captures the spirit of this moment. Can you not think of one? Any little rhyme will do,” York replied.

All the guests waited and watched.

“What, no humorous and witty words for us?” York pressed.

The silence lengthened. He turned to Amice. “Perchance you could come up with something?”

Amice stood, ready to acknowledge her contributions. Typical of the protector to take charge of the situation and make the outcome clear to all. She glowed with pride that Nicholas had discussed her poems with York.

Creating verse on the spot, and one in honor of one’s self was a bit awkward, but she’d give her best effort.

“When two once far apart in love unite

The heart shall sing its joy throughout the night.

Entwined as one the couple greets the day

For decades full of happiness they pray.”

Amice couldn’t help but enjoy the looks on the nobles’ faces as they realized what was happening. She felt a twinge of guilt at Belinda’s suffering, but decided she’d earned it.

A round of applause began slowly, then gathered in volume. Belinda rose and swiftly walked out of the hall.

Relief soared through Amice. It was over.

She couldn’t wait to begin her life with Nicholas as husband and wife. To sleep in his arms every night. The security and contentment of snuggling against him would be the perfect completion to a productive day. She hadn’t comprehended the depth love could add to every moment.

They’d spend as much time as possible at Castle Rising, but would return to court as his duties demanded. She vowed that unlike many couples, they’d live together. She wouldn’t spend months alone, even at her beloved Castle Rising, while Nicholas served at court. And when he was ready to go on his pilgrimage, she’d go with him.

Amice wanted to shout from the battlements so all would know of her happiness.

Nicholas crossed the crowded hall, astounded by his sense of fulfillment. How much time he’d wasted believing marriage was akin to being taken prisoner by the enemy. His desire for Amice grew each day. He still reacted like an infatuated youth. Whenever they were separated, he longed to be in her company again.

He reached his bride, who sat with her hands folded and her eyes closed.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, not wanting to startle her.

She opened her eyes and smiled. “Being grateful. For you. And because dreams I barely dared to dream came true.”

Epilogue

December 1454

Two days after Christmas, Amice and Nicholas continued the twelve-day celebration with the court, still clouded by Henry’s continuing illness. But this year, the clouds were thinner due to York’s successful protectorate. And because of the thriving heir to the throne, Prince Edward, now over a year old, who represented England’s future.