Bessie (9 page)

“The black knight approaches!”

“I’ll give him my favor!”

“He doesn’t want yours, you old crone! He wants hers!”

“Who is she? I’ve not seen her afore.”

“Let him through, it’s the red-headed wench he’s after!”

The crowd parted for the man and his horse. He came to a stop directly before her. The crowd hushed. Bessie brushed stray hairs from her face and looked across and up at him. And hoped she didn’t look as faint as she felt.

His armor was as black as his horse. He had a red plume at the top of his face-plate. There were four large slits in the front of his helm, molded into the metal. He was silent. Large. Frightening.

Bessie wondered if this were the Sir John fellow that was lending Devon his armor. The black knight shifted his horse closer. Her hands shook. Her legs joined in. The man holding her tightened his grip on her, as if she was in danger of falling. He wasn’t far off.

“I’ve come for your favor.”

The metal plate distorted his voice, making his words vibrate. A ripple of sound ran the crowd as the black knight lifted an arm toward her. Bessie kept her eyes on the metal spikes covering the gauntlet he wore. She was afraid to move.

“Take mine instead!”  One of the women about them cried.

Bessie glanced over the black knight’s shoulder, saw that Devon was watching. She tried to ignore everything else. Her heart was pounding. Each breath iced. She cleared her throat. “I’ve...got but one, Sir Knight,” she managed to respond.

“Give it to me.”

Bessie moved a hand to her skirt edge and raised it to show a dress boot and the ribbon attached just above it. The man holding her shifted his hands, supporting the movement. She did her best to ignore how that felt, too. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. She only hoped Roberta didn’t faint.

She held her leg out to him. He caught it with one hand, grabbed the ribbon edge with the metal fingers of his other hand, and pulled, gaining a length of emerald green satin that contrasted vividly with his armor. Bessie replaced her skirt as the knight held the ribbon high, dangling it for all to see. The crowd noise changed from silence to a swell of sound. They were cheering.

The knight moved even closer, pushing her legs with his horse’s neck. He’d brought his arm back down and held the ribbon toward her now. She was in luck the guard who’d lifted her was strong. Capable. He didn’t sway an inch as she tied the ribbon about the knight’s arm, blinking rapidly against the suspicion of tears the entire time. He didn’t say anything. Bessie was silent, as well. She didn’t look to see if he watched her. She didn’t dare. She guessed she was suffering the reaction of making a spectacle of herself. It wasn’t pleasant. Roberta had been right.

The knight moved away, returning to the field. The crowd closed the avenue they’d made for him. Bessie kept her gaze on her skirt. This was terrible. What had she done? Everything had gone awry. She didn’t want to appeal to a stranger in black armor! She wanted Devon, not some faceless stranger.

“Perhaps I’d best take in some air.”  She bent to whisper it to her guard.

“Very well.” 

He moved his hands to her waist and helped her slide back to the ground. Bessie stood in the midst of her guards. Undecided. Embarrassed. Awkward. Her discarded cloak was nowhere in sight.

“We will not leave your side, my lady. You’re safe enough. Come. Let us fetch you a stool.”

Bessie thanked Roberta silently for the guards as she looked toward the dais. Nobody blocked that view. There was a figure sitting there, dressed in brown, with a large off-white veil covering her. She knew it was Roberta, but it could have been anyone. That was how she appeared to Devon Hildebrand? No wonder he called her ugly!

The ground trembled beneath her feet. She couldn’t see why. The sound of armor hitting armor was loud. The crowd cheered. Bessie strained her neck. She wasn’t about to accept another lift, but the stool would work well enough. If, her man returned with it in time.

“The knight gives! What a waste.”

A match takes so little time?
That was odd. More thudding sounds came, more metal hitting metal, and then a man’s cry filled the air. Bessie couldn’t tell if it were Devon or not, because cheering covered it over.

How she wished she were taller!

“Oh. He will survive it. They always do. It’s all for show.”

Bessie looked at the man who’d spoken. He seemed disappointed at the knight’s survival.

“No. It is not!”

“The gentry never allow true injury. If there’s bleeding to do, they will find one of us to do it for them.”

“Take back your words!”

Bessie backed into the three guards left to her as men began fighting right beside her, nearly pulling her into an enlarging melee. Oh. This was worse than terrible. She might as well admit it. Roberta had been more than right.

“There’s the black knight, again! Look! They cannot unseat him.”

“Come, my lady.” 

The man who’d lifted her whispered at her ear, before he touched her elbow. Bessie walked beside him in a humble fashion. The air no longer intoxicated and thrilled. It made her shiver.

“The silver knight is down!”

Bessie stopped. Her heart fell. Devon had been unseated?
He wasn’t hurt, was he?

“He’s not done. See? He’s got his lance out.”

“Oh! That looks like it pained.”

“Lift me. Now!”

Bessie grabbed the guard’s sleeve and commanded it. He hoisted her in front of him, and held her there.

It was Devon, all right. He was on the ground. And bleeding. The blue ribbon was dark with it. Bessie cried out, but it was lost in the crowd noise as the black knight bore down on him again.

“No!”

She screamed it as the silver knight toppled and lay still. Tears blurred her view. Fire hit her chest. Each heartbeat contained agony. The silver knight’s squire raced to his side and helped the knight sit. All about her Bessie heard the reaction from the crowd.

“Thank the Lord. He lives.”

“He does? What a shame.”

The guard’s grip slipped. Bessie fell. Stumbled. She didn’t care. She wanted to be far away from the man who was disappointed. She wanted to be far away from all of them.

“I’ve found a keg for you, my lady. Here. Sit. I will go and see to the knight’s injuries.”

“I...would rather leave, I think.”

Another of her guards answered her. “You cannot leave, my lady. The black knight still wins. He wears your favor. He may wish more from you.”

“He might?” 
Oh dear
. She hadn’t even considered that!

“You hear the crowd?”

“Yes.”

  “That is why you need to stay. Apologies. Your absence could start a riot.”

“Drat the man!”

Bessie listened as knight after knight fall. Each time her heart grew heavier, her spirits lower...because the one in black won. Her guardsman returned. She was watching for him. She hadn’t checked the field since Devon had been unseated. She knew it was the final bout. She didn’t care. All she cared about was Devon. The man in black should be tired by now. He should have fallen from sheer exhaustion.

“The silver knight has a gash on his arm. He’ll survive.”

“Oh! Thank you.”  Bessie smiled at the news. Devon wouldn’t be happy with an injured arm, but at least he lived.

“Ah! ’Tis over. The black one wins!”

Someone shouted it, and Bessie made a face in that direction.

“You need to stand, my lady. He’ll be looking for you.”

Bessie didn’t know if her legs would support it. But she stood up without help. The vantage from the keg put her in clear view. It was odd, but she knew the knight had been watching for her. She could have sworn it as he dipped his helmet in her direction before riding to the dais. And everyone was watching as he dismounted and pulled the helmet off.

“Oh. Dearest God.”

Bessie’s whisper was drowned out by the reaction of the crowd as Devon Hildebrand turned and waved. And her stupid legs wouldn’t hold her. She collapsed back onto the wooden top of her keg.

It couldn’t be!

Reaction made her shake, cry, and laugh. All at the same time. She wasn’t noticed. Everyone seemed to be watching the field. Devon must be accepting his winnings. Bessie dabbed at her eyes with her skirt hem. Devon hadn’t lied. He was very good.

She knew when he approached. She didn’t have to watch. The crowd’s reaction told her of it. One of her guards offered an assist to stand. She used it.

Devon was untying his green ribbon as he walked his horse toward her. The crowd parted. She may have missed what he thought of her when he first saw her, but it was a moot point. His emerald gaze didn’t shift from hers. And he looked very pleased.

“Who is she?”

“I’ll scratch her eyes out!”

All sorts of comments accompanied his passage. Bessie barely heard them. The keg made them a like height. Devon stopped his stallion and regarded her. Both were covered with sweat, breathing heavily. Devon‘s dark hair was plastered to his skull. His horse was frothed.

“Your favor, my lady.”

What was she supposed to do? Did he want a kiss?
Now?
A slow smile curved his mouth before he slid his gaze down her frame and back. Bessie gasped. She didn’t think she was the only one.

“I beg leave to replace this from whence I got it.”

And he lifted the ribbon to his lips to kiss it.

CHAPTER NINE

“You are not going alone.”

“Of course I am. He is my husband, you know.”

“He doesn’t know he is. He thinks he’s cuckolding you.”

“Nonsense. I wonder if I can disguise my voice or if I should be mute the entire time. I wonder if he’ll think it odd.”

“He’ll think meeting with you is odd.”

“Why? That’s what he asked me to do. He could have required a kiss out there. In view of all those people. Thank goodness he’d rather meet me at Aaron-Run’s stable. He wants me there tonight. How could I say him nay?”

“Easily. You could have said something like, ‘as your wife, I’m against the idea, my lord. Your bedchamber is warmer, for one. It’s private, for another. It’s safer, for a third.’  You could have said any of that.”

“And give myself away? Whatever for?”  Bessie twirled about in her gown, watching the full-length apron flare out as she did so.

“You are enjoying this!”

“Don’t be so scandalized, Roberta. Of course I am enjoying it. I am about to give that man the set-down of his life.”

“You will not get the chance. He’ll ravish you, and then you’ll know for certain what sort of a man you wed.”

“I’d rather find out first-hand, then.”

“Why? To make it hurt less?”

“How do you know it will hurt?”

Bessie stopped her dance and looked at the maid. Roberta wouldn’t meet her eyes. There was a long silence before Roberta spoke again.

“Please don’t do this, Bess.”

“Why?”

“A man that will betray his newly-wedded wife is without honor. I don’t want you to find that out about him. I’m afraid for you.”

“Maybe he’ll turn me down. Have you ever considered that?”

“I saw him today. The entire field saw him. He will not turn you down.”

“Then I’ll turn him down. He is not going to have me, Roberta...not until he’s proven himself worthy.”

“You’re setting him up to fail and can’t even see it. I certainly hope you can handle the hurt when it comes.”

“I’ll say if it hurts. And when. I don’t need you to lecture me about it.”

Bessie couldn’t help sounding curt. Ever since Devon had whispered in her ear, she’d felt tied up inside, coiled tightly like a ball of twine. The excitement of enticing him, and perhaps even receiving a kiss was making her breathless with anticipation. Alive with excitement. Abuzz with eagerness.

She didn’t want to look at anything too closely. Besides, he couldn’t actually betray his wife, if she was his wife.

Could he?

Devon had pulled her to him at the joust, after she’d shaken her head at his request. She’d not allow him to replace the ribbon! It was bad enough she’d shown her lower leg already, without doing it again. He’d nearly pulled her atop his horse, bent his head, and Bess had closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. But what had happened? He’d whispered in her ear, instead.

“Meet me at the devil-horse’s stable tonight. I’ll replace it, then.” 

The crowd went wild as her mouth had opened in surprise. They hadn’t known what he said, they’d simply guessed at it. Devon had placed her back atop the keg and turned. Bessie wasn’t the only one who watched him look to the dais, and the shrouded figure of his wife. He had the strangest expression on his face as he’d done so, too.

Oh!

Enough rumination. She had an assignation to attend! A handsome man to entice. A bit of flirtation to ensue. Bessie picked up a cloak, and swirled it about before she donned it. And then she turned back to Roberta.

“Besides, he isn’t betraying his wife. He’s meeting with her. He just doesn’t know it, yet.”

“He’s enjoining a clandestine meeting. With a stranger. Oh, Bess. Bess. I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I was right about the joust, wasn’t I?”

“Make-believe isn’t reality.”

“You are right. I am thinking it is better. Don’t wait up for me. I may be late.”

Bessie blew the woman a kiss and turned before Roberta’s attitude rubbed off.

~ ~ ~

The stables were warm, smelled of horses, and seemed to have as many torches lit as the main house did. Bessie had never visited the stables at night. It felt strange. Eerie. She pulled her cloak closer about her and looked for Aaron-Run’s stall.

“You came!”

Strong arms wrapped about her from behind and pulled her into the blackness of an unlit area. Bessie’s voice caught in her throat in a scream, while her heart continued hammering even after she recognized the voice.

“I thought something might prevent you. Perhaps...you have a husband?”

He spun her neatly in his arms, capturing her hands against his chest. Bessie’s eyes widened.

Lighting from outside the stall barely lit his features. Her own were dark. Devon had pulled his hair back into a queue. It made his features look more chiseled than before. She’d no idea his eyelashes were so long, either. Their shadow reached to the bottoms of his cheeks and carved an arch over his nose.

She could have swooned at his handsomeness. Any village maiden would have.

“Aye,” she whispered.

“And little ones, too? Surely your husband keeps your belly filled with a babe?”

“My husband never touches me.”

He frowned, whether at her whisper, or the content of her words.

“The man is a sightless fool.”

Devon pulled her upward, bent his head and touched his mouth to hers. And the world stopped. Spun crazily. Re-righted. A shockwave of reaction hit her breast. Her legs. Her toes. She moaned, her lips parted, and he slipped his tongue against her inner upper lip. Liquid warmth ran her spine and came right back up to her breast.

Bessie started trembling. It was too soon. Altogether startling. And beyond amazing. She’d no idea a kiss felt like this!

Devon lifted his head and regarded her for long moments.

“You needn’t fear me, little one. I shall do no more than replace the ribbon as I requested. Unless you ask more of me.”

Bessie couldn’t answer. She was using a whisper, but couldn’t even find that faculty at the moment.

“You will let me know?”

“What?”  She didn’t have to remember to whisper. Her voice was missing.

“If you’ll be asking for more.” 

“I—”

Devon narrowed his eyes as he regarded her. That expression carried even more impact. Bessie was having difficulty finding words, let along voicing them, and the way he studied her made it worse. Her mouth went dry. An obstruction formed in her throat. And her heart started hitting away at it.

“We need more light. Hold to me. I’ll find a brighter spot.”

How was she to do anything but, since he lifted her with one arm and simply carried her? She was small. He was strong. And this demonstration did stranger things to her pulse than before. She clenched her fingers about folds of his tunic as he walked.

“I was afraid you’d demur. Fail to meet with me. And now that you are here, I’m a-feared that you’ll disappear.”   

He was speaking to the region beside her ear as he walked. The slight breeze from his breath teased and tickled, causing a riot of gooseflesh along her skin. She shut her eyes, and breathed deeply. He smelled wondrous. She knew he’d bathed after the joust, this time in warmed, scented water. He’d done it with MacClaren’s aid. He hadn’t wanted his wife near him.

She wondered why the bath water hadn’t disguised his particular scent. That was rather unfair.

“Ah. Yes. This is much better.”

Bessie’s eyes opened. She felt him swing a gate shut before putting his leg on one of the rungs. He settled her onto his thigh, bringing her head level with his. She was alone with him. Touching him. And quivering in place. She couldn’t even look at him!

Where was her courage?

She didn’t recognize his tunic. It wasn’t elaborate, such as Stansbury would have ordered. Nor, was it being worn properly. Devon’s collar gaped open to mid-chest. The material looked to be soft leather. She should be certain. Her hands were still holding the material. She was having trouble with her fingers. They were clenched to each side of him, one in front and one at his back. She had to consciously unfasten them. She focused on the movement. First, to releasing her right hand. Then the left.

“Look at me. Please? You are so lovely. So...beauteous. You’ve no idea what you do with those chestnut-colored eyes.”

“You shouldn’t...say such things.”  Even whispered, her voice carried a tremor. And he wanted her to look at him? She’d faint.

“Why not? Who is to say me nay? I’ve a victory under my belt, a beauteous wench in my arms, and all night to play. I see no reason to keep silent.”

Bessie gasped, her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened. She barely had time to control the expression as he put a hand beneath her chin and forced her head up to face him.

“I didn’t realize until now that you’d eyes of such warm brown. I knew you had hair like fire. Now, the entire countryside knows it as well. It was like a beacon today from the midst of them. Did you know that?”

She couldn’t avoid answering this time. Not when he cocked his head and waited.

She nodded.

“You wished me to notice you, didn’t you? I already know the answer, but I want to hear it from you. Come along. Please? Don’t be stingy with your words.”

A slight smile played at the side of his mouth. He was right, she was being stingy. He had every reason for his arrogance. It was maddening, and it was wholly exciting at the same time.

She nodded again.

She didn’t have time to catch a breath before Devon grunted and pulled her to him. Bessie should have put more material at her breast if she didn’t want to know what his hard chest felt like. Devon wasn’t going to be denied. She sensed it as his lips took hers again, shoved hers open, and this time he flicked his tongue against hers. Realms of sensation swelled and crested, and pinged and stung.

But it was wrong. Bessie put her hands to his shoulders, and shoved.

Devon was trembling as he released her. The chest before her eyes filled and exhaled with deep breaths, sending a rush of air onto her. It startled. Frightened.

She dared a glance.

His upper lip was lifted, his eyes narrowed. He’d dipped his head a fraction, to look at her through his upper lashes. Bessie tried to slide back from him, but he held her fast with one arm about her waist.

“You play with fire, wench. I am not certain I like it.”

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

He yanked her back into contact with him. Bessie cried out.
Oh, no!
Roberta had been right. She was going to get ravished by her own husband!

Devon lowered his head to her neck, placed a kiss to her skin and started sucking as he moved upward. Toward an ear. Along her jaw. His lips sent sensation flickering before them. Bessie fought the sensation. She clenched her thighs together, slammed her lips shut against the moans, and focused on the torch.

Nothing worked.

Her soft cry seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. Devon slid his mouth along her shoulder, pushing her blouse out of his way as he went. At the exact same time, he was sliding his other hand along her ankle and up her calf. It startled. Shocked. And then it terrified.

“Wait! Please! I can’t let you—! Stop! Oh, please?”

She’d ceased whispering. Her voice didn’t sound normal, anyway. It was too breathless and filled with anguish. It had stopped his foray beneath her skirt. His hand was embedded between her knees as he regarded her from the end of her shoulder. And then he asked one word.

“Why?”

“You’re wed! You have a wife and—”

“Would that my wife was as winsome! I’d grace her bed all night, if she were.”

“But...you said—. You promised! Have you no honor?”

Tears were starting. Bessie couldn’t believe it. She sniffed rapidly and blinked even quicker. And somehow managed to stave them off.

  He lifted his head and sent a lengthy, loud sigh into existence. When he spoke, it wasn’t in her direction. It was to the other side of the stall.

“I’ve honor enough, my lovely one. And I did promise. Would that I hadn’t. I wouldn’t be standing here, swallowing need and unable to do a thing about it.”

“You forced me!”

He turned to her and his eyebrows rose. “I’ve done little. A bit of enticing. A flicker of flame to a candle wick. It’s my cursed luck that you won’t allow me to finish.”

“You’ll not touch me?”

“’Tis a strange request, when you’re atop my leg as you ask it.”

“Put me down, then.”

“Oh. I think not.”

Bessie sniffed again. “But...you promised.”

“I said I’d not to do anything against your wishes. Unless you ask it. I didn’t promise not to touch you. I still have to return your ribbon. To right about here.” 

He slid a finger along her lower leg. Bessie gasped.