Read The Knights of Christmas Online
Authors: Suzanne Barclay
The Knights of Christmas (18 page)
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At last the mummers finished their performance, Cecily declared it was time she retired, and Giselle was able to return to her bedchamber.
Wearily she allowed Mary to help her disrobe. Although it was nearly midnight, she dismissed her maid with a brief reminder to awaken her at dawn the next day, Epiphany, the twelfth day of Christmas. Giselle felt completely and utterly exhausted, but several of the guestsâbesides Sir Mylesâwould be leaving tomorrow since the snow had stopped, and she had to make sure their departure went smoothly.
Once Mary was gone, Giselle slowly went to the small table where her brushes and combs lay. On it was a covered box about a foot square, with a small piece of parchment attached.
The parchment bore an inscription: “A final gift. Set them free, as you are. Myles.” Lifting the covering, Giselle found a cage containing a pair of turtledoves. They awakened at the influx of light and began to coo plaintively.
Giselle's attention returned to the message, for there could be no mistaking the meaning of Myles's words.
He was setting her free. He was confirming the end of their tentative betrothal, because he thought that was what she wanted.
Wasn't it?
She set the cage down and covered it again, silencing the doves, before walking to her window and gazing out at the snow-covered courtyard. She idly watched the few sentries on the battlements. They were not in any state of watchfulness, for no trouble was expected and certainly not at this time of year, or after such foul weather.
Didn't she want to be free of Sir Myles Buxton? Had she not often proclaimed her desire to have some liberty before she wed any man?
Then another figure caught her eyeâa man coming through the gate and striding toward the stables.
She knew that stride. Without pausing a moment to think about what was proper or dignified or expected of a young noblewoman, Giselle grabbed a thick woolen cloak, snatched up the cage and ran from her bedchamber.
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Myles entered the warmth of the stable and closed the door behind him. The familiar aroma of hay surrounded him, and his horse whinnied a greeting.
He noticed none of these things as he sighed heavily.
He never should have come back here. He never should have seen Giselle Wutherton again.
He loved her. He respected her. He wanted her. He needed her.
If he had required any confirmation of his feelings, his brief journey with Cecily Louvain would have provided it. Every moment in her presence provided incontrovertible evidence of the difference between Giselle and all the other simpering, helpless young ladies Myles had ever met.
If only he had not acted so arrogantly at the first! If only he had proceeded with patience and delicacy, gently wooing her. If only he had spent more time trying to understand her yearning for freedom!
What would it have cost him to wait a few months to announce their betrothal? Had she been asking so very much?
Instead, he had lost his chance, and he regretted it so much he could not endure being near her, knowing that she would never be his wife. Better by far to avoid her, and best of all to leave at first light. For that reason, he had elected to sleep in the stable, so that he could leave as soon as possible.
He hoped she appreciated his last present, and wondered if she had any idea of the cost to the giver.
With such thoughts for company, he saw that his stallion was properly bedded down, procured two blankets and proceeded to make his bed on a pile of straw. Then, as he unlaced his tunic, the stable door creaked open. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the figure who slipped inside and closed the door behind her, holding something in her hands.
“Giselle?” Myles whispered incredulously.
He was extremely aware that his heart was racing and that she had never looked more beautiful or more desirable. Her long, waving hair was loose about her, and her slender figure was wrapped in a cloak as if it were a royal robe. His brow furrowed as he tried to imagine what had brought her here, at this hour, and alone.
“I wanted to speak with you and you didn't come to the feast.” As she came closer, he recognized the cloth-covered parcel in her slender hands.
She held her freedom. The one gift he could give her that she would not refuse.
“I wanted to thank you properly for bringing Cecily, and for the mare and all your other presents.” She was near enough for him to see clearly. Near enough to touch. “Thank you.”
“I wanted to make you happy,” he replied softly.
“You have.”
He swallowed hard. He had thought he was already suffering, but at her words, which seemed to him to be the confirmation that she was pleased to be released from their betrothal, he began to understand what true suffering was. He turned away so that he didn't have to look at her.
And then she reached out and touched him. Gently. On his arm.
Unwillingly, yet powerless to resist, he faced her. Her gaze was puzzled, and he wondered that she couldn't see his anguish, so very real to him.
“Sir Myles,” she whispered, holding out the cage, “I do not want this last gift.”
He stared at her as he struggled to comprehend her meaning. “You don't want the birds? Then let them go.”
She nodded wordlessly and went to the door, where she released them into the dark night and then watched them fly away. As she did so, he realized that beneath her cloak she wore only her shift and thin slippers.
“You had better fly, too, my lady, before you are discovered here,” he said brusquely.
She slowly turned to face him once more. She closed the door and walked toward him with a determined expression he knew very well by now.
“I have released you from our betrothal,” he whispered. “Now you had better leave before you are discovered here, alone with me and in such attire, or your uncle may try to force a marriage between us.”
“Were you planning to depart tomorrow without speaking to me?” she asked, ignoring his warning.
“Yes. What is there to say?”
“I did not think you were a dishonorable man, Sir Myles.”
“I did not ask you to come here in your shift,” he said hoarsely.
“That is not what I meant. I was speaking of your challenge.”
Giselle held her breath while she waited to see if he would understand her meaning, or if she had done another foolish thing by coming here.
“What about the challenge? It is over, finished, done. I have lost, and so you are free.”
“I agree I am free in one way, Sir Myles,” she concurred softly, “but I must tell you that in another, I am not. I see I shall have to tell you plainly, sir, that you have triumphed. I am passionately in love with you.”
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For a moment, she feared he was going to say he didn't care. But only for a moment, for in the next, he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her, the heat of his passion reaching out and enfolding her, until she burned with equal fire. “Giselle, Giselle!” he murmured as his lips trailed across her cheek, only to return to capture her mouth again.
She held him tightly and felt his heart beating as rapidly as her own, his arms holding her as if he never wanted to let her go. But he did, drawing back slightly. “Are you sure? You were so determinedâ”
“Can you doubt it?” she demanded with a smile. “I am as determined in this, Sir Myles, I assure you, unless you do not want me anymore?”
“Don't be ridiculous,” he said, returning her smile, his eyes full of happiness. “I've never wanted anything so much in my life as to have you for my wife.”
“Then I think I am not the only one passionately in love,” she observed with a low chuckle as she sighed and leaned against his broad chest.
“I acted like a conceited fool, Giselle. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I have, if you've forgiven me for trying to find fault with you from the moment I met you.” Her hands traveled up his back, feeling his muscles beneath his tunic. His body felt so perfect against hers, hard and strong and desirable. With tender yet powerful yearnings building within her, she lifted her face for his kiss.
Their lips joined, their breath mingling, and she felt his hands caressing her. Cajoling her. Asking her...
As her own hands began to respond in kind, he moaned softly, then reached around to lift her hands away. He stepped back, a warning look in his dark eyes. “Giselle, unless you wish to consummate our relationship right here and now, I am going to have to beg you to leave.”
She moved away from him, regarding him steadily. He was right, and she knew it. Just as she knew that he truly loved her, and that they could be wed as soon as they wished. Her uncle would certainly not stand in their way.
Myles stared in awe as Giselle reached up and undid the ties of her cloak so that it fell to the ground. “I have a gift for you, my love,” she whispered.
“Whatâ?”
“Take it. Take
me.”
me.”
After that, there was no more resistance, and certainly no remorse, as he lowered her to his bed in the straw.
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Sir Wilfrid frowned at the couple standing before him. “But, my dear,” he said, feigning a dismay he certainly didn't feel, “I thought you wanted the right to refuse.”
“I have changed my mind,” his niece announced.
“A woman's prerogative, Sir Wilfrid,” Myles observed.
“Yes, Uncle. A woman's prerogative,” Giselle confirmed.
Sir Wilfrid could guess how she hated to fall back on that excuse, but it told him more about Giselle's feelings for Sir Myles than a thousand words could have. “You wish me to sign the marriage contract, then?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“And are you still willing to be wed to my niece, Sir Myles?”
“I am, sir.”
“Very well,” the older man replied. Then he smiled. “I am very pleased for you both,” he said, an unmistakably gleeful tone creeping into his words.
“Uncle?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“I...that is, we...we would like to be married as quickly as possible. Perhaps even today.”
“What?” This request was beyond Sir Wilfrid's most imaginative expectation.
“I see no reason for delay, Uncle,” Giselle said firmly, all the while keeping hold of Myles's arm. “We were going to have the feast of Epiphany anyway and we can just as soon make it a wedding feast. I'm sure Father Paul will be agreeable to a marriage blessing at the mass. It is not so difficult a thing for him to do. And so many of our friends are here anyway, it will save them all an additional journey.”
Sir Wilfrid leaned back in his chair and regarded the couple before him. So young and so eager. So happy and so desirous. So full of joy and love. So disheveled, and was that straw in Giselle's hair?
Suddenly an idea came to Sir Wilfrid, based in no small part upon a very memorable incident in the courting of his own beloved wife.
That Myles Buxton would have no scruples about waiting for the wedding night was not at all surprising. But that Giselle would ever considerâ
Sir Wilfrid felt the most outrageous, undignified urge to laugh. She
must
love the fellow, and things couldn't have turned out better if Saint Nicholas himself had lent a hand.
must
love the fellow, and things couldn't have turned out better if Saint Nicholas himself had lent a hand.
Sir Wilfrid coughed and struggled to maintain a dignified demeanor. “If Father Paul has no objections, I see no reason for refusing to allow you to wed today.”
“Thank you, Uncle!”
Sir Myles's smile was a little more shrewd than Giselle's. “Thank you, sir, for agreeing to a speedy marriage,” he said with a touch of his old arrogance, but only a touch. “I care for her very much, and I believe your niece will make a most exceptional wife.”
Sir Wilfrid rose and scratched his beard as he strolled toward the window. “I think you were both hasty in another matter.” He glanced back at them, noticing that they were now fidgeting like naughty children, and again he had to strive to keep a smile from his face.
Then he chuckled companionably. “Well, far be it from me to condemn you, for I'm sure it was all your doing, Giselle.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand for silence. “Quite frankly, I think being in love has addled your wits. If I didn't suspect something, why else would I agree to such a swift marriageâunless I could also see that you two are truly in love with each other?”
“Sir, weâ” Myles began.
“You owe me no explanation beyond what I have already surmised, Myles.” His expression grew grave, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “Giselle is a very determined young lady with very determined ideas, as I have plenty of cause to know. I only hope you appreciate that, Sir Myles.”
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