She Owns the Knight (29 page)

Gillian nodded, sucked in a shuddering breath, and tried to control herself. Anyway, she needed to be clearheaded so she could decide what to do next. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the slightest clue.

***

The next morning, one hand hidden behind his back, Kellen waited behind some shrubbery as Gillian approached. He was determined to court his lady. If he did it aright, perhaps Gillian would settle and cease pining for her old life. Mayhap if he did it correctly, she would even cede her heart and reward him with a kiss or two.

When she rounded the corner, his heart beat harder as he quickly moved forward to walk with her. “My lady?”

Gillian started and stared up at him, her eyes blank as if lost in thought, her face pensive, her usual vitality missing. “Oh. Hello.”

“Good morrow. Where are you off to, then?”

“What?”

“Where go you, lass?”

As if looking for an answer, Gillian glanced around the bailey at knights, servants washing laundry, and at the wagon rumbling through the gate. She seemed a bit distracted, which to Kellen’s mind, was not necessarily a bad thing. Taking her arm, he pulled her to a stop at the other end of the shrubbery, blocking her view of the goings-on around them.

“I have something for you,” he said. “A gift.” Taking his hand from behind his back, Kellen dangled a string necklace on two fingers, the pearls and gold beads gleaming in the sunlight.

Gillian’s eyebrows rose and her mouth parted. “Oh, wow.” She placed a hand to her heart. “It’s gorgeous.”

Kellen smiled at her reaction. She had not been interested in recreating her bracelet or in choosing something from his treasury, but he hoped the shiny piece would please her, and in some way make up for the missing trinket. Perhaps it would even cause her to
forget
the cursed piece.

“I thought you might wear it on our wedding day.” Kellen spread the necklace apart with both hands and lifted it toward her head. “May I?”

Gillian bent slightly and Kellen slipped it over her hair and smiled when she arranged it against her bosom where it looked very lovely indeed. She glanced up and smiled weakly. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Ah . . . ” Kellen rubbed the back of his neck. “I have something more for you.” He glanced around, glared at one of his men who happened to walk too close until he hurried away, then reached inside his tunic and pulled out a piece of parchment. “I’ve written a poem for you.”

Gillian tilted her head to the side. “A poem? Really?”

Kellen cleared his throat. The troubadour had declared his efforts feeble. Mayhap the man had even dared to laugh until Kellen had half-strangled the pansy-faced she-goat. But afterward he’d been in the proper frame of mind and tried to help Kellen finish the missive. Kellen had not allowed it, however; at that point he’d realized he’d wanted it to be from himself and no other.

Another quick glance assured him they were alone and he took a breath and began to read. “My lady’s smiles do suffer my heart to wake. Take pity on the pain, for ’tis drunk on thy beauty and laughs for the future; for when I die I will know I have lived well. For passion is a pleasing thing, and bonds as strong as horse or hound or blade.”

Kellen swallowed, held his breath and looked to see if Gillian understood what he was trying to say.

Laughter erupted from directly behind the shrub. Kellen recognized the high-pitched squeals of his foster sons as, still shrieking, Peter, Ulrick, and Francis ran along the length of the greenery and out the other side.

Face heating, Kellen was about to go and thump the spying miscreants when Gillian grasped his arm and he allowed her to pull him in the other direction. He should have let the troubadour help him, after all.

Gillian stopped and faced him. “Did you write it yourself?” she asked softly.

Kellen swallowed. Glanced at the retreating figures of the boys who had best run faster if they wanted to escape unscathed, then reluctantly turned his attention but did not lift his gaze.

“Did you care for it?”

“Yes. Very much.”

Kellen let out a breath and nodded. “Aye. I did. I wrote it myself, with no aid.”

Gillian held out a hand. “May I?”

Kellen gave over the small bit of parchment and Gillian took it, looked at it for a moment, then gazed up at him. She pressed it to her heart. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.

He sucked in a breath, nodded, willed the heat to leave his face, and finally met her gaze. She still did not seem herself, her usual liveliness absent. “Is aught amiss, my lady?”

Gillian shrugged, then smiled wistfully. “Will you make it better if it is?”

“Aye. Think you I cannot carry your burdens?”

Her blue eyes looked troubled, but finally she nodded. “You probably could.”

He longed to erase the look. “Then let me. What were you thinking of? Earlier, when I stopped you.”

She tucked the poem inside the bodice of her gown and held out her hand. “Come with me.”

After a lingering glance at her bosom, and a fleeting press of envy for his poem, he grasped her small, soft hand and walked with her toward the gardens.

“I never told you about . . . well . . . about the couple who raised me.” Gillian took a breath. “Their names were Alan and Christina and they were wonderful people; I loved them so much. They had a son named Nicholas and he was . . . like a brother to me.”

Kellen squeezed her fingers, willing her to continue.

“They all died in an accident and, well, I wanted to die, too. I felt very alone. I’ve been thinking about them today and wondering what they’d want for me.”

Kellen squeezed her fingers again. “’Tis hard to lose loved ones.” He led Gillian toward a bench and, after a quick glance around, sat and pulled her onto his lap, feeling pleased when she did not protest.

Kellen opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then tried again. “I did not truly know Catherine. She went about her life, as did I. When she died, I felt cheated and angry, my chance at an heir gone with her. While I did not love her, I wanted to. I tried to be a good husband and was happy about the coming babe.” He lifted a hand and tucked a length of blonde hair behind her ear so he could better see her profile.

“Life can be difficult at times, Gillian, but you will never be alone again, I swear it. You have me now. It sounds as if your foster family treated you with love. I believe they would want you happy. Can you be happy with me?”

Gillian turned and placed her arms around his neck, pressed her face against his skin and hugged him.

Kellen, pleased by her reaction, wrapped his arms around her, held her tight, and realized he was the one in danger of falling in love. He only hoped it was requited.

After Catherine, he’d not thought to trust a woman again, but Gillian easily breached his defenses with warmth, sincerity, and candor. Catherine had been cold, unscrupulous, and deceitful.

He admitted to himself that Gillian had captured his heart completely.

He felt hope again, anticipation, desire. His arms tightened further, but she did not protest, relaxing against him, her arms about his neck, her breath warm against him.

“Can I ask you something?”

Kellen relished the feel of her in his arms. “Aye. Anything.”

“What are you planning to do with the dowry my father paid you?”

“It will go to help our people. I also want to improve our position here on the border. The more men we have, the better trained and outfitted they are, the better our situation and strength.”

“Oh.”

“Do not worry on that. I will always keep you safe.” Kellen considered what more he might do to further his suit, and remembered her curiosity about his marriage proposal. She had wondered at the romance of it.

For her, he could be romantic. He could propose and it would be everything she might wish for. He
would
capture her heart as she had his. She could depend upon it.

***

Hours later, Gillian lay in bed, wondering once more what she was going to do. The Corbett’s impending arrival, and the imminent threat of exposure, had left her exhausted, feeling like a sword was hanging over her head. Maybe she deserved it for blatantly stealing Kellen’s affections from Edith, but she couldn’t dredge up even a smidgen of regret. Kellen was hers now and Edith could get lost.

Gillian turned over, unable to get comfortable. She was going to have to tell Kellen everything before the Corbett family arrived. Either that or run away.

She snorted. She could leave a note,
don’t look for me, it might be plague,
because, yeah, for sure she’d be able to survive in medieval England on her own.

Anyway, even if it were an option, she wasn’t sure she could get herself to leave Kellen at this point. She loved him. Really, really loved him. And she was starting to suspect that he just might love her back.

Earlier, she’d practically melted into a puddle at his feet when he’d asked if she could be happy with him. If she just told him everything, threw herself on his mercy, surely he’d choose her and forget about the fortune Edith brought?

Gillian turned over again. “Marissa, are you awake?”

Marissa sighed. “Must you move about? Are you not tired?”

“When you got married, did you bring a big dowry to your husband?”

“Of course.”

Gillian hesitated. “Kellen wrote me a poem today. It was so incredibly sweet.
He
was so sweet. Do you think he’d take me without a dowry?”

Marissa jerked the covers up. “The land and money are for the good of his people. Your people now. Never underestimate what you bring to this marriage. Lord Marshall has many to care for.”

“But my sister already brought him a dowry. Why does he need another one?”

“It will make his position even stronger. It will help more of his knights secure a place. It means more property and crops to feed his people. It will earn gratitude and respect for you, as well. You must cease trying to turn everything into a romantic gesture.”

“Right. Of course you’re right.” Gillian sighed. “But you should have seen his face today when he read me that poem. He was so earnest and wonderful and . . . and . . . just so cute.” She knew she was gushing but couldn’t seem to help herself. “Is your husband romantic?”

Marissa turned onto her side, her back to Gillian. “He has no flowery words but is dependable and offers loyalty and protection.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Go to sleep, Gillian,” Marissa said wearily.

Gillian turned over. She wished she could sleep and forget about her troubles if only for a little while. She knew she’d soon have to tell Kellen everything and throw herself on his mercy. She probably ought to do it tomorrow.

She remembered the way he’d looked at her earlier, his expression tender and possessive. Would that change? She had to admit, despite the poem and the way he’d held her so close, she was concerned. Her ex-fiancé had been romantic, too, but in the end he’d only wanted her for what she could give him. Would Kellen be any different?

As worried as she was about being put in the dungeon or hanged, she was actually more troubled about her heart. When her fiancé had revealed his true colors, it had definitely hurt, but she’d gotten over it. If it turned out Kellen only wanted her for the money she was supposedly bringing, if his expression changed from tender to contemptuous, she just wasn’t sure she’d recover from the pain.

Marissa would
not
lose her temper. She would not allow Gillian to affect her mood. Lord Corbett was expected soon, and perhaps his family as well, so they needed to finish the final touches for the wedding. But it was not easy to concentrate with Gillian pacing about the solar.

“Gillian,” Marissa forced a genial tone. “Will you please settle? We need to finish stitching these gifts for your mother and sisters.”

Gillian walked to the window, yet again, and looked out. “I can’t. I need to talk to Kellen.”

Marissa forced her jaw to relax. She would be patient. She would not let Gillian drive her to madness. “Later. At the moment, you need to work. Perhaps you can help Beatrice sort her . . . feathers.” Marissa stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Was no real work to be done this day?

“No, now. I sent the boys to go and find him.”

Marissa’s mouth opened and shut as she tried to decide how to chide Gillian without losing her temper. Finally she gave up. “Honestly, Gillian, you will cease moping and pacing about. ’Tis affecting us all and getting on my nerves.”

She set her stitching aside. “Kellen is mooning about and trying to find ways to please you and must I remind you,
yet again
, that as lady of the castle, ’tis your responsibility to set the tone for your home. If you have your husband running about after you, trying to win your smiles, then he has no time for his duties. You must needs—”

“Lady Hardbrook! Lady Hardbrook!”

The three boys, Peter, Ulrick, and Francis came running into the solar.

“Gentlemen.” Marissa shot them a stern look as they slid to a halt. “You forget your manners.”

Ulrick bowed quickly and the other two boys copied him. “Apologies, my lady, but Lord Hardbrook is at the gates!”

“He is riding a huge stallion!” said Peter. “Come on!”

As the boys ran out, Gillian stopped, turned to look at her, and Marissa found she was struck dumb.

Gillian’s head tilted to the side and she looked concerned.

“Are you okay? What’s the matter?”

Marissa’s fingers started to shake and in that moment she hated Gillian more than she’d ever hated anyone in her entire life.

If Gillian’s husband were to turn up unexpectedly, she would toss her dignity to the wind, run down the stairs, and throw herself at him, regardless of the fact that she’d only embarrass them both.

Of course, Kellen never seemed embarrassed. He seemed to admire Gillian more than any husband Marissa knew of.

Marissa was suddenly at a loss about what to do. She was fearful to meet her own husband, or at least fearful to meet him in the manner she’d been intending.

Gillian’s brows furrowed. “Marissa, are you all right?”

The longer Marissa stared at Gillian the more she thought about her decision to follow Gillian’s silly and immature lead in this. What if she
were
to act like Gillian? What if she
were
to go downstairs, right this moment, and throw herself at her husband? What if she were to flirt with him? Kiss him?

Her stomach tightened so much it ached and, when dizziness assailed her, she remembered to breathe. Would he set her aside in disgust? Would he shove her away in embarrassment for them both? He might. But what if he hugged her back? What if he greeted her in kind?

Before she could turn coward, she stood. “Come with me, ladies. I need your assistance.”

Vera and Yvonne jumped up at the urgency in Marissa’s voice and they followed, as did Gillian.

“Not you, Gillian. You, you just . . . ” She waved her hand. “Just . . . do something.”

Her ladies hurried with her to her room. She needed to change into her most beautiful gown, uncover and brush out her hair, one of her best features, pinch her cheeks and bite color into her lips.

“Wait!” called Gillian from behind them. “What’s happening? Where are you going?”

Marissa found she could not answer. She was scared spitless.

***

Determined to talk to Kellen and tell him everything, Gillian waited until Marissa was out of sight before leaving the solar. She’d explain who she was, or rather, wasn’t. She’d tell him where she was from, how she felt about him, her hopes for their future together. Everything.

At the thought, her heart rate increased and her hands felt cold and clammy, but she really couldn’t stand the suspense a moment longer. With shaking fingers, she slipped on her pink pack for the proof it contained to back her claims, smoothed her yellow dress, and headed out to find him.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she immediately saw Kellen talking with a well-dressed older gentleman below who, from the looks of him, could be none other than Kellen’s father. Kellen looked up, smiled, and beckoned to her. “Gillian,” he circled his hand a few more times. “Come and meet my father.”

Taking a shaky breath and feeling a bit deflated by the fact that she’d have to put off her talk, she went downstairs and joined them, slipping her hand around Kellen’s arm, linking them.

He patted her hand possessively, then held his own over it. “Gillian, this is my father, Lord Edward Hardbrook. Father, this is Lady Edith Corbett, my betrothed. I call her Gillian.”

Gillian smiled at the pride in Kellen’s voice and held out a hand, which Lord Hardbrook took in one of his, bowed over in a graceful gesture, before kissing the back. “I am very pleased to meet you, my dear.”

Gillian arched a brow at the smooth move. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too. I can certainly see where Kellen gets his good looks and charm from.”

Kellen grinned and Lord Hardbrook laughed in surprise. “Thank you, my dear.” She could see he was flattered, but she’d meant it. His father was just an older version of Kellen and it was nice to know Kellen would still be yummy to look at in a quarter-century. The thought made Gillian’s hand clench on his arm. Would it be her at Kellen’s side, or some other wife?

“My son seems well pleased with his choice of bride, as am I,” said Lord Hardbrook. “I welcome you to our family.”

“Thank you.”

Lord Hardbrook’s eyes widened as he looked beyond Gillian and up the stairs. Gillian turned to see Marissa descending, dark hair floating about her shoulders, looking pale but beautiful in a royal blue gown, her fine features slightly strained.

When she reached the bottom she took a deep breath, then ran at her husband, throwing herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. Lord Hardbrook’s mouth dropped and he gaped for a moment, but quickly encircled his wife and chuckled as she clung to him. “Hello, wife, I have—”

Before he could say more, Marissa grasped his head, pulled him toward her and kissed him thoroughly. The man seemed frozen in place for a moment, but quickly relaxed and got into the spirit of the kiss, his arms tightening about his wife.

Gillian wiggled her brows at Kellen who brought a fist to his mouth to clear his throat and hide a smile. As the kiss continued, they both looked everywhere but at the couple in front of them.

Finally Kellen took a step back, pulling Gillian along with him. “Well, yes, then. We will see you at supper,” he said, as he turned around, caught Gillian’s hand and pulled her away.

They both walked fast until finally they were almost running out the front doors. They barely made it outside before they burst out laughing.

***

When her husband finally broke off the kiss to gaze down at her, surprise, pleasure, and interest in his expression, Marissa was pleased to see his breathing was as unsteady as her own. His gaze fell to her lips, his color heightened, and he clasped her in his arms as tightly as she could have ever wished for.

Her hands lowered to his chest and she could not help but smile up at him as she gasped for breath. “I have missed you, husband.”

A smile curved his lips as he gazed down at her. “I can see you have. I have missed my own sweet wife, as well.”

At his words, tears filled her eyes and the last of her misgivings melted away. She leaned up on her toes to whisper, “My ladies have moved Gillian’s things to their chambers. I thought perhaps you would wish me to show you our room and help you get settled?”

Edward glanced about quicky, nodded, released her, and practically shoved her toward the stairs, his hands firm on her waist. “I would like nothing better.”

Disbelief, relief, and happiness bloomed inside Marissa as she hurried up the staircase with her husband directly behind her, urging her onward.

She conceded that she had definitely been too harsh with Gillian. It turned out the girl knew a thing or two about managing a household, after all.

***

Kellen headed with Gillian across the bailey, toward the training field, and smiled when she giggled. “You are amused?”

“I couldn’t believe that was Marissa. I never would have guessed she had such a passionate marriage. Never.”

Kellen laughed. “Nor I. I have not seen the two of them act in such a way as that before, but I am happy for my father.” Marissa had seemed cold in the past and he knew what it was to be married to a passionless wife.

Looking down at Gillian, he let go of her hand and put his arm about her shoulders, pulling her close, enjoying the sunshine, the walk with his lady, the way she so easily slid her arm into place about his waist, and the way his heartbeat sped at her touch. “My father is here, and soon yours will be, also. I cannot wait for you to be mine.”

He could not help but notice the way Gillian tensed at his words, her expression bordering on fear.

“You need not distress yourself. I will be gentle with you, I swear it.”

Gillian nodded and squeezed his waist. “I know you will.”

“Are you worried over the wedding?”

She shrugged, but remained silent.

“I cannot wait until is it over, as well. Life will be more peaceful afterward. I swear I will do all in my power to help you settle into your new role. I want you to be happy, Gillian.”

Gillian pulled him to a stop and looked up at him. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then sighed.

“What is it?”

She took his hand. “I have something I need to tell you. It’s important.”

Gillian looked about as if searching for privacy, and Kellen realized this could be the perfect opportunity to carry out his plan. “And I have something to say to you, as well. Come.”

Grabbing her hand, he pulled her toward the training fields, past his men and the orchard, and to the private garden beyond. He was relieved to see it was unoccupied as he dragged her toward a pretty little bench and settled her upon it.

She slipped off her backpack. “Kellen?”

“Aye. Give me a moment.” He could feel the pulse beat in his own throat, and could feel himself start to sweat as he paced back and forth. Finally he stopped, took a breath, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Gillian, you are . . . ”

He studied her beautiful face, the soft blue eyes, thickly lashed, the full and inviting lips, the high cheekbones framed by her disheveled blonde hair, and tried to remember the words so painstakingly memorized. Finding the distance between them intolerable, he knelt on one knee, his face almost even with her own, and grasped her hands in his.

His mind blanked, all the memorized words going straight out of his head. He swallowed, and looked into her eyes. “Gillian, I have not the pretty words that some men do, but I . . . I have loved you from almost the moment we met.”

Tears filled her pretty eyes and, when she tried to speak, he put a finger to her soft lips, silencing her. He had to finish this or he’d kiss her and be done with it.

“The first day I met you, when I took you from Royce, I knew you were mine. But do you remember at the rocks? When you took my hand as we walked back to the keep?”

She nodded.

“When you took my hand, I was certain I was yours.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back, turned it over and kissed her palm, then, holding her trembling hand to his cheek, gazed into her tear-filled eyes. “You are everything. My life, my love, my all. Will you marry me, Gillian?”

***

“Oh, Kellen . . . ”

Gillian felt her face crumple as he blurred before her. She’d been concentrating so hard on what she was going to say to him that, when he’d sunk down on one knee, when she’d realized he was proposing, she’d been taken completely by surprise.

She blinked against tears as she looked into his earnest face, felt his warm, raspy skin against her fingers, and all the problems between them fell away.

She loved him, and he loved her. She could see it in his face,
feel
it as he looked at her. She wanted him to choose her
so much,
and here he was, this strong, capable, gorgeous man, barely breathing as he waited for her answer. He had such a tender expression on his face, it was all she could do to not simply melt into a puddle at his feet. He’d choose her when given the choice between her and Edith. She really believed he would.

His brow creased in sudden worry and he swallowed audibly. More tears rushed to her eyes. “Kellen, I love you so much.”