Knight Errant (3 page)

“Mean you for the women to swing across the river on these ropes you have strung? I trow my fellow sisters have not the strength and would drop like stones from the bridge, unless you intend to carry them.” She trilled a laugh to mask her fury at his thoughtlessness.

“Nay, lady.” He took her arm and turned her to face the river. “As we speak, your fellow travelers send out a raft. We will use the ropes to pull it to and fro across the river. Berthild and Gretle will ride above the flood in as great safety and comfort as can be managed.”

“Oh.” She felt her face heat. In her worry over Edward, she had misjudged Sir Robert. “That is most considerate of you. The journey has been hard on my fellow Beguines, and your efforts shorten their travail. Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Sir Robert by her side, she paced back toward where her friends waited. “’Tis a shame our guide was so badly injured.”

“The man is a fool and got precisely what he deserved for crossing an unsound bridge.”

She gave him a genuine smile; Sir Robert’s thoughts ran exactly as hers did. “All the more reason for us to pity him.”

“Pity is needed for the caravan that is now without a guide, not for a feckless knight.”

Could the guide’s mistake provide a solution to the problems of stubborn Sir Robert and aid for the other travelers? “Surely you will take his place as guide.”

“Why would I do such a thing? My way lies in the opposite direction. As does your own,” Sir Robert snapped.

“But you are a knight and sworn to aid those in need. The cross you wear is evidence of pilgrimage to Jerusalem and proves that you can find the way. None is as well-suited as you for the task of guide.” She used her most soothing tone. A little flattery never hurt when trying to persuade a man to act against his inclination. She smiled at him, just as she used to smile at her uncle. When she smiled, her uncle had forgotten to bluster. Sometimes he had forgotten to hit, as well.

“My suitability is not at issue. I have an obligation to Edward to see you safe to England and his care. The caravan will have to do without a guide until they get to a town where one may be found.”

“I cannot agree. As a knight, you must not ignore what Providence has placed in your path. The task of guiding us to Palermo is yours by virtue of your arrival just at the moment when our need of you would be greatest.”

“Do you often succeed when you use nonsense to persuade others to do your will?”

Admittedly, mere knighthood was not the most logical of arguments, but the criticism stung. She looked up at him to be certain of his meaning. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes might have been caused by the fact that he faced the sun, but the upward tilt of his lips and the green gleam coming from between those slitted lids suggested otherwise.

“You laugh at me.”

“Nay.” His eyes widened in feigned innocence. “I would never laugh at a lady.”

“Would you not?” She arched a brow at him then turned back to where Henry, Cook, and the elder Beguines prepared for the river crossing. “’Tis of no moment, but your aid as guide to this caravan is of great import.”

He stopped her with a touch on her uninjured shoulder. “Why?”

“Because these are good people in need, and you have the skill and knowledge to fill that need.”

He represented a threat to her life as a Beguine. However, she would deal with that after she got to Palermo, where she was needed.

• • •

She placed the situation before him in desperate simplicity. His vow to protect women weighed on him. Would ignoring the travelers’ need for a guide place all the women of this caravan in danger and threaten that vow? What of his promise to Edward to return Juliana to England before All Hallow’s?

Edward would have to understand. There was time. Several months remained before All Saints’ Day.

“Others have as much skill and knowledge,” he argued, reluctant to agree to her request, even knowing that he could not refuse.

“But those others are not here, nor would we be able to trust them as easily.”

“Trust is for fools.” Juliana’s smile soothed his harsh thoughts. A man might do much for that smile alone. If the man was fool enough to need smiles.

“When the bridge fell, you could have let us fend for ourselves, but you gave aid without any thought to your own safety. You are a knight who saves lives, not one who allows death and danger to threaten innocents.”

’Twas obvious she had no knowledge of the lives he had failed to save. Enthusiasm flooded her cheeks with color and took his breath away. He wanted to please her. Wanted to keep her smile for himself. That would never happen. She belonged to another man. His vow to Edward and the lure of regained lands pulled him to England. How could he go elsewhere?

“I made a promise to Edward.” He spoke sternly, refusing the inevitable. “Neither you nor I can proceed to Palermo.”

“Yes, yes, I hear you.” She waved an impatient hand at him as she stepped toward her Beguine sisters. “Edward wants me to wed a Scot. Nonetheless, we must get Berthild and Gretle to Palermo, not England.”

Robert strode after her, determined to make clear that she had no choice in the matter. “Edward is your king. You must follow his orders.”

“Nay, I must follow my conscience. I do not use my title or the privilege that comes with it, and I owe nothing to any earthly king.”

“I could force you.” He nearly shouted the words to hide the reluctance he felt in saying them. Physical force was not an option when women were involved. She stopped and turned so abruptly that he had to grab her around the waist. He lifted her and held her close against his chest in order to avoid trampling her or hurting her shoulder.

“Put me down.”

The words were soft but firm. He set her at arm’s length, glad to be rid of her, because her body felt entirely too right pressed to his.

“You could indeed try to force me. I assure you that you would regret the choice, for I would make your life a misery.” She smiled sweetly.

He nearly laughed.

“’Tis not possible. You are too gentle to make any man’s life a misery.” Though he knew differently. He had seen her strength of will and determination in a dozen small actions over the past day, as well as her selfless rescue of a drowning boy. Willpower frightened Robert. No wonder Edward wanted this woman married to one of the unruly Scots. Her very smile hid an English rock upon which the Scot would break his barbarian heart.
’Tis a good thing I have no heart to break
.

Her smile broadened. “If you think that, you should have a long talk with my uncle William.” She turned on her heel and jounced down the hill, calling to Berthild not to lift a heavy pack by herself.

Robert shook his head and set off in pursuit of Juliana once again. He caught up with her just as she struggled with Berthild to raise a pack of sodden wool lengths onto a mule.

“Allow me.” He hooked a hand under each of the leather bindings and with one heave thumped the pack onto the back of the nearest mule.

“Oh my.” Berthild’s gray lashes fluttered. “You are very strong.”

Not knowing what to say, he grunted.

“Will you be guiding us to Palermo?” asked the older woman.

“Nay. I have other obligations.” He gave Juliana a warning look.

“What would be the harm in journeying with us as far as Palermo?” Juliana asked, honey dripping from her tone.

“Would you return with me to England, if I guide your band that far?”

“I would be a most cooperative traveler.”

’Twas nothing like the promise he asked for. He ground his teeth on the frustration that ate at him. He could not risk laying hands on her. Nor could he deny the other travelers’ needs. His temper rose at her granite cheer.

“Indeed, Sir Robert. Our need is severe.” Gretle approached, adding her plea to those of the other women.

They could not possibly be as desperate as they claimed. “Surely another of your party has been to Palermo before?”

“Oh no,” Berthild spoke up. “One of the reasons our company hired our now-injured guide is his vast experience. None of us, not even the merchants, have ever been farther than Gascony. We are all novice travelers.”

Incredible! He looked at Juliana, who stood waiting, that perpetually serene smile on her face. Why he longed to shatter her solid calm he did not know.

Did she expect him to simply give up? To desert both her and his sworn duty? She did not know him very well, so he would make certain she learned differently. He might be guilty of all sorts of sin, but he did not give up. Honor demanded that he take her to England. His conscience and sworn oaths prevented him from forcing her. If guiding these people to Palermo would gain her cooperation, that was what he would do.

Not for the first time did he regret accepting this task from Edward. Robert had too many reasons not to hunt women. But the king had made the rewards more than attractive. Restoration of the Clarwyn demesne would change much in the eyes of the court. More importantly, regaining his family’s lands would give Robert a retreat from gossip, if not from guilt and shame.

Watching Juliana from the corner of his eye, he addressed the two older women. “I would be honored to guide your journey to Palermo.”

“That is wonderful, indeed.” Gretle clutched his arm. Delight shone from her eyes.

Juliana’s placid expression brightened. “I knew you would do the right thing,” she murmured as she passed by him.

He had failed to dent her serene armor. Worse, he had committed himself to a troublesome and unnecessary journey to Palermo. How had she done it? Without saying a word, Juliana had somehow bent his will to hers, and he had not even gotten her clear promise to return to England.

He studied her shining calm. His father had worn a similar serenity. Robert had adored the man’s good-natured control. Control that cloaked an evil too great to tolerate, even in a beloved parent. What threat to a man’s soul did Lady Juliana hide beneath her tranquility?

He watched the gentle sway of her hips as she went to help the cook with his pots. Robert’s body hardened, despite the knowledge that he would never touch her. The woman was a menace. Edward was right to want her under some man’s thumb. It could not happen soon enough to suit Robert.

Too bad Palermo lay more than a month distant and the same back again. ’Twas more weeks of traveling with her serenity than he wanted to risk. But risk it he must. He could not simply ignore her. Before they reached Palermo, he had to convince Juliana to return to England. Saint Swithan’s shroud! How he was to accomplish that without setting hands on her, he did not know.

• • •

At noon the next day they stopped beside a pond to allow the travelers to rest and refresh themselves. Juliana brought Robert a meat pie. His mouth hummed with the thought of savory spices, tender beef, and flaky crust. He bit into the pie, chewed, and nearly gagged. ’Twas all he could do to swallow the vile mess.

“Did you make this?” he mumbled with his mouth still half full, eager to know what imp had captured hell in a pastry.

Juliana’s cheeks colored above her ever-present smile. “Nay, ’tis Cook’s work.”

Robert’s eyes watered as he chewed the foul meal. “And you pay him for this?”

“’Tis charity. My talents lay elsewhere.”

He looked her up and down, noting the gentle swell of breast and the full curve of hip. Just what talent she might have at
laying
elsewhere interested him mightily. But she was a lady, Edward’s cousin, and promised to another, so Robert did not offer the crude jest. Instead he choked down his bite of pie, mustered as much innocence as he could, and said, “What exactly are your talents, milady?”

Her eyes grew round, and her lips parted in a slight
O
of surprise. Her breath quickened. The pulse in her throat beat rapidly. Robert caught the scent of something warm and yeasty mixed with a more delicate aroma, like wild heather. Visions of those lips pleasuring his body filled his mind. Shaking his head at himself, he shoved temptation away, then watched her firmly close her mouth. Was she nervous? Impossible. One of the maddening things about Lady Juliana Verhault was her complete lack of feminine fidgets.

She squared her shoulders. “I sew, help to comfort the sick, and advise my fellow Beguines on matters of production and trade to generate income for our charitable efforts. Tell me, Sir Robert, where do you plan for us to rest this night?”

The abrupt change of subject silenced him. She could not mean that she wanted to share his bed. To even imagine she could want that was thinking with his cock.
Remember who this woman is
. Once more he shook his head to clear it of rampant lust.

“I know of an abbey a half day’s ride away that has comfortable, separate quarters for both men and women.” For his own benefit, he emphasized
separate
.

She looked at him with confusion arching her brows but managed to maintain her smile. “Oh, that will never do.”

Her forwardness took him aback. “You object to men and women sleeping apart?”

“Nay, I object to the abbey.”

“Whatever for? An abbey is by far safer and less costly than any inn and a great deal more comfortable than the ground.”

“I agree, but since Beguines are not a recognized order and do not hold the status of nuns, some men in holy orders believe us to be heretics. Identifying who holds such beliefs is nearly impossible, so we avoid abbeys. That persecution is also the primary cause for our travel to Palermo. Our sisters there are beleaguered by weavers, who do not like the small amount of competition we give them. They harass us, causing no end of trouble, yet none who represent the church in Palermo will give aid to our sisters or even discourage the weavers. Sisters Berthild, Gretle, and I are the first of many from Ghent who go to strengthen our numbers in the city.”

Robert discreetly disposed of the rest of the pie and tried to make sense of what she said. “You go to Palermo because a few weavers and friars think Beguines are heretics?”

“Nay, mostly because the weavers want to discourage competition.”

“Why have the city authorities not intervened?”