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Authors: Suzanne Barclay

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BOOK: The Knights of Christmas
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But once there, she had no daubt that her knight would welcome her into his bed. And his arms.
 
Benedick scowled as he watched Noel call for more of the strong wine. There seemed to be a lot of it flowing during the small supper and afterward. Alard was already laughing too loudly from his seat on the bench against the wall, where he was trying to entice a village maiden onto his lap.
Benedick groaned. What was his ward up to? Although her time here had nearly run out, she continued to hold herself with grace and beauty and an abundance of good spirits. Until today.
Although taut as a bowstring himself, Benedick had begun to notice a tenseness about her this afternoon that seemed to grow as the evening wore on. She kept darting quick, wide-eyed glances in his direction as if agitated by the very look of him. He frowned when her gaze slid away and color stole up her cheeks.
What was she up to? He was accustomed to her ploys. Sometimes, despite his warning, she tried to tease him under the mistletoe or drag him on a private stroll, but he would have none of it. Try as he might to ignore it, he felt a twinge of guilt about her banishment that made him all too happy to accede to her wishes for now. Yet the niggling doubt about his decision did not extend to pleasing her in private.
 
Leaning back in his chair, Benedick closed his eyes against the sweet, tempting sight of her, and acknowledged his own weariness. He was tired of fighting this attraction, tired of clinging to a life that had never given him satisfaction, and just plain tired. Last night, after the strange dream, he had stayed awake till nearly dawn. And now Noel was plying him with drink that was making him even more drowsy.
“More wine?”
The sound of her voice echoing his thoughts made Benedick blink. His lashes fluttered open to see her pushing another cup toward him while nervously tugging on a lock of her hair. She avoided his gaze in a way that was wholly unlike her, and his eyes narrowed. Was she trying to get him drunk?
Benedick straightened as the suspicion shot through him. The whole situation reeked of one of Noel's schemes, but why? Did she think to drag him insensate before the priest? The old man knew better than to marry them when Benedick was in his cups. What, then? Benedick watched her dart a swift glance at him and studied her. Her blue eyes glittered too brightly and her face was flushed as if she, too, had consumed too much, but he knew that she had not. When she passed him the wine with fingers that trembled almost imperceptibly, suddenly he knew.
She was going to try to seduce him.
Benedick's body rose enthusiastically to the idea, and he shifted in his seat, tugging at his braies beneath the table. He promptly quelled the niggling voice that told him to go along, wholeheartedly, with her scheme. For, if he did, he would surely end up married to her. And he didn't want that, did he? The answers didn't seem too clear anymore, and he ran a hand through his hair.
No matter, he told himself, for little Noel wouldn't have much success if she kept forcing wine upon him. He was not your typical drunk. He did not lose his inhibitions and dance upon the tables. Nor did he bark and growl and beg for a fight. He simply fell asleep, which ought to wreak havoc with dear Noel's plans.
As if suddenly noticing his rather vacant expression, she appeared at his shoulder. “You look tired. Let me help you up to your chamber.”
Benedick wasn't tired enough to ignore the tension in her voice, and so he shook his head. “I'm going to sit by the fire,” he muttered. Suddenly he didn't like the idea of sleeping through her seduction, especially when she might demand marriage in the morning anyway. Dragging his chair to the hearth, Benedick sat back and looked into the flames.
His will was weakening, he admitted with a disgruntled sigh. Just the thought of Noel coming to his room made him hard and hot. Lying with her in that great, soft bed would be more potent than any dream. Drowsy with drink, Benedick let the scene play out in his head. What would she wear? How would she act? Right now she looked as eager as a lamb to slaughter, and Benedick frowned. That's not what he wanted from her. What did he want? He wanted her gone, he told himself, but his resolve was fading. He wanted her...
Closing his eyes against the slow seep of desire, Benedick let himself drift upon a waking dream that dissolved into slumber. And soon, the visions he had tried so hard to escape claimed him at last.
This one was different, Benedick sensed that immediately. Instead of the usual warmth that permeated his being, he felt cold and distanced, an outsider, as he had been so much of his life. Blinking against the dimness of the world around him, he saw a hall that was strangely similar though different.
Greenery was everywhere, along with brightly colored swatches of cloth and glowing candelabras denoting the season, yet something was subtly altered. Around the high table gathered a group of people, and Benedick wanted to protest the crowding but could not find his voice. Moving closer, he saw that they were children of various ages, but why did they surround his seat? And why could he not see it?
In front of the table, a tall dark youth stood by a pretty girl with golden hair that seemed familiar, while two smaller children had their backs to him. Benedick saw another boy holding a baby, but the other side lay in shadow.
“Happy birthday, Mama!” they all shouted, and a woman rose from behind them. With a start, Benedick recognized her at once. It was Noel, only older. Still beautiful and graceful, but mature and womanly wise, she smiled and laughed so gaily that he wanted to go to her.
Instead, he remained silently rooted to his spot, while she moved among the children, drawing them to her with a loving gentleness that startled him until he realized they must be her own offspring. But how? And then she turned, a special smile reserved for someone seated in the shadows... in his chair!
Her husband.
Rage swept through Benedick as he tried to see man hidden there.
Come out of the darkness, you coward, for I would know you!
he shouted, though no one heeded him. His hand went to the hilt of his sword even as he knew that he could not kill the father of Noel's children. Their children. Beautiful and laughing, they filled the hall with life.
Jealousy consumed him, sharp and stinging, and he shouted for an answer.
Identify yourself!
When none replied, he turned to Noel. Her eyes sparkled with happiness, yet she seemed to know him not.
Who is he?
Benedick demanded, reaching out to force her response.
“Wake up,” she said.
Benedick blinked. “Who is he?” he demanded as she knelt before him. Grabbing her shoulders in a savage grip, he leaned close, frantic to learn the truth. “Who is your husband?”
She looked startled. “Why, you are, of course.” For a long moment, Benedick wasn't sure if he was still dreaming or if the dream had become reality. Then she smiled, her lips curving so near to his own that he nearly claimed them and her, too. Dazed by the powerful vision, he felt like weeping for the want of her, for the want of...everything.
“If I can convince you, that is,” Noel said. “Now, come up to your chamber. You were asleep in the chair.”
Shaken more than he cared to admit, Benedick focused on her voice, her face, until instead of the woman of his dream, he saw Noel, her eyes bright with intent.
His chamber.
“No,” Benedick said unsteadily, as the present came flooding back, and with it, Noel's heady plan to seduce him. “I think I'll sit up here tonight.”
“Here! Why?” she asked, obviously flustered. But her dismay only made Benedick more determined. She was young, beautiful, a virgin, and he knew that his drowsiness would disappear if he found her in his bed.
“'Tis tradition,” he muttered through gritted teeth. She was positioned between his spread legs and the thought of her bending her head forward and that golden hair flowing over him like silk made him painfully hard. Along with the knowledge that she wanted him.
Obviously she wanted something—either him, the keep or marriage—enough to offer herself up for it. But hers was a gift he could not accept. Although his body throbbed with frustration, Benedick was not so base as to take a young girl of good birth he had no intention of wedding.
Unlike his father.
The thought brought Benedick to his feet, and he drew her up with him. “Go on, Noel. 'Tis late, and you must seek your rest.”
Her eyes were as wide and blue as the ends of the earth must be and better than any dream. “But I—”
Benedick shook his head, even though his blood thundered and heated. “Catherine,” he called over his shoulder to one of her attendants. “See Noel to her chamber and make sure that none disturb her sleep.”
When the handmaiden drew her away, Benedick sank back into his chair and stared into the flames. Gradually the hall quieted down, the servants made their beds in the corners and he heard the soft sounds of their retirement. At his nod, Alard extinguished the last of the candelabras and lay down on a bench nearby. For once, the youth did not pester him with annoying queries or comments, and Benedick was grateful for it.
Even in the dim light of the hearth, where the Yule log still burned, Benedick could see the greenery everywhere, and he could smell the pungent odors of spices and boughs and berries, but without Noel's presence the place lost its festive air. It became only a room, dark and bleak and full of nothing.
Benedick sucked in a ragged breath as the memory of his vision returned. He felt a sudden tightening in his chest when he considered the choices it had offered him. Long into the night, well past the time when all around him slept, did he sit there, contemplating his past, his present and his future.
And he realized that he could lock himself away at Longstone with his scars and his memories, or he could become the man in the dream. He could be Noel's husband and the father of those children and embrace life with all the vigor he had once thought lost in battle.
And for one long moment, still in the darkness, he nearly wished for it to be so.
Chapter Seven
 
 
N
oel stumbled to her chamber, bewildered and off balance. All day she had summoned her courage, expecting to be bedded this night. Instead, it seemed she had been oddly rebuked by the man she had intended to seduce. Had she gotten Benedick too drunk? Noel knew little of wine's effects, for her father had been a temperate man. And what was all that shouting about her husband?
“Are you all right, Mistress Noel?” Catherine asked. “You look pale. Here, sit down.”
“I'm fine,” Noel answered. Sinking onto the edge of her narrow bed, she was vividly reminded that this was not where she had expected to sleep. The knowledge made her breath catch on a sob, and she cleared her throat, pushing aside her tumultuous emotions, at least until Catherine was gone.
“Let me help you undress,” the girl said, and Noel nodded. The daughter of her father's old steward, Catherine had been brought up in Noel's household after the man died. She was barely fifteen, but responsible beyond her years, and Noel had gladly brought her along to Longstone. Lately she had noticed the maid's eyes lingering on Benedick's playful squire, and she hoped that Alard did not break Catherine's young heart.
The thought swiftly brought her back to her own problems, and Noel shuddered as Catherine tucked her into her own bed. Alone. “I will bring a pallet in here beside you,” the girl said, studying her anxiously.
“No! You go on to sleep. I will be fine.”
“But Sir Villiers told me to make sure none disturbed you,” Catherine said, obviously torn between her duties. “Perhaps I will put a stool outside your door and sit for a while.”
“Very well, but I would have you get a good night's rest, for tomorrow is...another day of celebration,” Noel said, her voice breaking.
“Are you sure you are well?” Catherine asked.
“Yes. Go on now,” Noel urged. Closing her eyes, she waited until she heard the door shut, and then she turned her face into the pillow, but she did not weep, for fear Catherine would hear.
Finally Noel sat up, hugging her knees in the darkness and fighting back tears of frustration and bewilderment. Her scheme to seduce Benedick had gone strangely awry, and now she had but one day remaining before Epiphany. One day in which to work some sort of miracle, or else...
Her wish was not going to come true.
Stifling a sob, Noel told herself that it was time to face the truth. She had gambled her future and lost. Maybe Benedick was right, and she was a fool for believing in wishes. Maybe her mother was wrong, and there was no such thing as Christmas magic. The whole season might well be a sham, a jape in which people played at kindness in order to revel and feast.
Immediately Noel was seized by guilt for such thoughts. They rang of disrespect for her mother, if not blasphemy. And her entire being rebelled against such a calloused view of the world. Determinedly she clung to her vision of a holiday filled with goodwill toward men and miracles beyond the ken of mere mortals, for if she couldn't believe in Christmas, then, surely, there was nothing to believe in. But if wishes were real, then why had hers gone so terribly amiss?
 
Perhaps she had only herself to blame, Noel mused. Instead of asking for something like health or contentment, she had been selfish—and she had involved someone else. Had she really the right to decide Benedick's fate for the benefit of her own?
Wiping away a tear, Noel realized that she had no business taking over Benedick's life. It was one thing to wish her own happiness, another to foist her hopes upon him. In her own defense, she thought that he needed her, but she could not be sure. She knew only that he wanted her.
Noel's lips curved into a shaky smile as she recalled that even tonight when he sent her away she had felt the pull between them and seen the fierce longing in his eyes before he shuttered them. His behavior had been so odd that she wondered if he knew somehow what she was planning and refused her, not because of a lack of desire, but because he guessed her game. And did not want to marry her.
Ashamed of her scheming, Noel flushed. Perhaps Christmas wishes only went so far and hers had butted up against Benedick's implacable will. If so, who was she to try to overcome it? The question made her pause and reconsider her objectives.
Finally Noel drew in a deep breath and made the most difficult decision of her life. Sitting there in the dark silence of the night, she resolved to take back her wish. She would enjoy what little time she had left but look for no miracle to extend her stay. And then, she would leave on Epiphany and not look back.
And she would do so, knowing that her heart would remain here at Longstone forever with the knight she loved.
 
The holiday celebrations were slowly coming to end, and although Benedick knew he ought to be grateful, he felt a stinging, wistful regret. Despite his initial misgivings, he had come to enjoy the so-called traditions of the season. He relished the twelve dishes at supper, even though they were becoming less elaborate, for he knew that all too soon the winter stores would dwindle in the long wait for spring.
 
And afterward he waited along with the rest of the keep residents to see what new revelry Noel had planned for the evening. As he looked around the benches that lined the walls, Benedick realized that sometime since his return, he had begun to think of these men and women as his people, to take a certain pleasure in their smiles and their happiness. Having known no ties, except perhaps to his former squire, Benedick found it strange that old Hardwin, the servants and the others living here had begun to mean something to him.
Especially Noel.
Benedick watched her now as she brought out rolls of parchment. Considering that tomorrow was Epiphany, she seemed surprisingly serene, but he sensed that she was ever graceful and gracious, even in defeat. At least she was not pouring wine down his throat as she had the night before. He wondered if she had abandoned her plan to seduce him.
Too bad.
Heat flooded his loins at the thought, and Benedick shifted in his seat, frowning. He told himself that he was glad that Noel's stay was nearly ended, that he would be well rid of her and that her departure was what he wanted. But it wasn't true, and he knew it.
He wanted her.
Benedick had never believed in fate, but yesterday's strange dream disturbed him. It haunted him still, for fight it as he might, he knew a longing to be the man in the vision.
Noel's husband.
For the first time in his life, Benedick yearned for something that could not be won by might or wealth, something that would not increase his coffers or his prestige. Despite all his previous vows to the contrary, he wanted to take Noel as his wife. But his desires were tempered by uneasiness and a suspicion that he would be doing her a disservice.
Although Noel seemed convinced of his inherent goodness, Benedick was not so certain. He sought to put the past behind him, but it was a part of him, and he couldn't help feeling that Noel deserved better than a battle-weary knight. And so he was determined to deny himself for her sake and tried to feel the better for it.
So far he wasn't succeeding very well.
Startled from his somber thoughts by Noel's lilting voice, he glanced up to find her leaning close. Too close. “Benedick, you must play, too,” she said.
Oh, what he would love to play with her....
Straightening in his seat, Benedick dutifully took the piece of parchment she handed him as a lively group gathered around the table to share the ink she set out.
“Now you must pick someone in the keep and write down his—or her—fortune,” Noel instructed with a mischievous smile. “Then tie it with a ribbon when you are done.”
“Fortune?” Benedick asked dubiously.
“Yes, of course. As the new year approaches, we all wish to know what it holds for us. And so we make predictions about upcoming events—and each other. 'Tis--”
Benedick held up his hand. “I know. I know. Tradition,” he muttered, but he wasn't annoyed as he once would have been by the admission. Instead, when Noel laughed gaily at his surly response, he felt the same sort of warmth he had known only in his dreams. It was as if he and Noel were bound by more than a few days together. They bantered readily despite the tension that sometimes flared between them, and Benedick realized that he was at ease in her presence as he had never been with anyone else. It felt good. Familiar. Like the home he had never known.
Frowning at his wayward thoughts, Benedick snapped up his parchment and predicted much hard work in the months ahead for a certain squire who had enjoyed his holiday all too well. Then he sat back and waited for the others to finish. Some wrote laboriously, some lightly, and Benedick noted Alard's cocky grin with misgivings. He hoped what the squire had written was not too ribald for Noel's ears.
As Benedick watched, Noel gathered up the rolls and distributed them once again. When she leaned over to present him a fat one tied with scarlet ribbon, he studied her intently. Although she appeared to hand them out randomly, he wondered warily if she had set aside a special prediction for him. Shifting uneasily, he was not so sure whether he should have joined in this particular game.
The first few fortunes were tame enough: a rich harvest, a fat purse and a handsome stranger were vague enough to please those who read them aloud. Alard scoffed at his, and Hardwin greeted the eerily soothfast prophecy of fewer duties ahead with relief. But when it was Noel's turn, Benedick glanced at her sharply. Yesterday's dream clung to him, its own predictions all too vivid for his liking, and he knew a sudden urge to rip the document from her hands and toss it into the fire.
Smiling, Noel released the ribbon, unrolled the parchment and began to recite. “You shall marry a man, brave and true, who loves no other as well as you—and present him with a healthy babe before the year is through!”
Beaming at the announcement, Noel looked directly at Benedick as if daring him to dispute it, but he could not meet her gaze. Enmeshed in jealousy and doubt, he had to be nudged twice before picking up his own roll. He finally pulled away the scarlet sash only to feel his heart betray him with a jerk when he recognized Noel's fine hand.
“‘Your future is cloudy, for your path is forked,”' he read.
And so is your tongue,
Benedick was tempted to add. “‘Choose wisely, and good fortune of home and hearth will be yours, the riches of the soul. But keep upon your present road and you will deny yourself all.”'
Benedick smiled in spite of himself at her feeble attempts to influence him. Did she think that he, a hardened warrior, would be swayed by a mere game? Slanting her a glance, Benedict saw blue eyes sparkling with mischief and hope, cheeks delicately flushed and lips twitching with mirth. She teased him still.
And in that moment, his heart, ever the defector, bowed in surrender, forcing him to admit just how much he loved her.
The revelation wasn't as startling as it should have been. Benedick wasn't struck dumb, hit by lightning or visited by angels. He simply looked at his ward and, in that instant, knew what had been coming upon him gradually all along. And it seemed as if everything, from the first time that he saw her, had led up to this moment. It was love—not affection or lust or familiarity—that moved him, and the knowledge burned as brightly as her infernal Yule log.
“But you knew that already,” she said.
Startled by the words that so echoed his thoughts, Benedick lifted his brows in question.
“You knew that you have but one choice to make,” Noel chided gently. Aye, but dare he?
Vaguely Benedick heard Alard beg for Christmas kisses, signaling the end of the game, and the others moved on, but he remained where he was, savoring the idea that he, a bastard and a killer, could know this most tender of sensations. The elusive peace of his dreams was suddenly within reach, and he wondered if this feeling, so intangible but so strong, would be enough for her.
Should he decide her future in his favor?
“Benedick.” Noel's soft voice garnered his attention, and he watched her draw her chair closer to his own. Soon she faced him, her knees nearly touching his, and she leaned forward to take his hands. Not one, this time, but both, her pale, slender fingers light upon his larger, callused digits.
“I know that you forbade me to give you any more gifts,” she began, and though Benedick tried to interrupt her, she continued on, determined. “But you cannot prevent this gift, for it has already been given, without your permission—or my own.”
Puzzled, Benedick eyed. her curiously, noting the slight tremor in her voice and the blush in her cheeks. “Last night, I had planned...” She faltered, her lashes fluttering as she dropped her gaze to their entwined hands, and Benedick felt heat surge through him.
“But when you...” She paused and took a deep breath before beginning again. “Suffice to say that last night I thought long and hard, and I realized that I had used my wish selfishly, that what I want and what I think is best for you might not be right. In truth, I am no soothsayer, and I can not ordain the future.”
BOOK: The Knights of Christmas
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