Chapter 8
The first evening, they halted in a village Angelet had heard of but had never been to. The inn there was quite acceptable, and the innkeeper was familiar with Otto and Dryton, so Angelet was given the best room. She would have been even more pleased, except that the sour-faced Bethany would share it with her, to preserve her honor.
Rafe came up to them and pointed to a small pyramid of sacks and boxes. “Bethany, those items all go up to the lady’s chamber. You should be able to take care of it in three or four trips.”
Surprisingly, Bethany nodded and went to work.
Angelet was happy…then she noticed the chest of gold. “What are you doing with that, Sir Rafe?”
“It’s also going in your room, my lady.”
“Must it?” she asked, as Simon and one of the Dryton guards wrestled it upstairs.
“Tactical decision. Both you and the maid will be near, and I’ll see that guards are within earshot of the room. Someone will always be awake.”
“Would a thief actually try to come into my room?”
“It’s a risk,” Rafe said. “But better that the gold is inside, instead of left in the carts.”
“If you think it best.” She looked up the stairs, then felt Rafe touch her arm.
“I promise you’ll be safe.”
She nodded, feeling a little better. He was the Knight of the Raven after all, undefeated in all the contests he entered. Otto would have hired the best.
They ate well that night, since the inn was a prosperous one and Angelet was a better class of guest than most. She had thinly sliced beef in a sauce rich with the taste of red wine, which soaked into her trencher, turning the hard bread into a very satisfying course. However, despite the meal, or perhaps because of it, she felt rather restless.
She stood up, only to find that Rafe stood too. “My lady?”
“I was cooped up all day in that rolling box. I need to move. I’ll take a walk through the town. Bethany can come.”
“Yes, my lady,” the maid said quickly enough. Her earlier pique was gone. In truth, Bethany was perfectly good at all the skills a maid should be good at. Her changeable moods created all the problems.
Rafe shook his head. “You may take a walk, my lady, but the maid can stay here. I’ll escort you.” He put a hand meaningfully on the hilt of his sword.
Angelet said, “Surely I’m not in danger in a village a day’s ride from Dryton?”
“You won’t be in danger if you’ve got a soldier as escort.”
The daylight was waning when Angelet stepped out of the inn, followed by Rafe. The feeling of being guarded was novel. She had never been considered important enough to guard before, beyond the usual restrictions imposed on all women of her birth. She would have expected it to annoy her—being constantly under someone’s view. But in fact it felt comforting to have Rafe near her, perhaps because she was certain that no one would dare harm her while he had that sword strapped to his side. Or just perhaps because he was a pleasure to look at. Any woman would be pleased to have such a man walking by her, wouldn’t she?
The town was compactly built, with the slightly taller buildings all huddled up together along the main road, so that the sky above was just a narrow strip of clear purple, like a silk ribbon.
Warm, gold light from candles and cooking fires shone out of windows and doors, thanks to the mild weather. Angelet hummed to herself as she peeked into the lives of these strangers. She saw families of all types. There were young couples chasing after little wild things pretending to be children—the shouts of the boys made her smile. There were fat, content older couples who lived more quiet lives. There were merchants and laborers, apprentices and traders. But no ladies like her.
A sudden feeling of intense loneliness assailed her, and when she saw an open field with a pond on the other side, she took the narrow path cutting through it. All the while, Rafe had said nothing, content to be her shadow.
But Angelet grew curious. She asked, “Is this a common task for you, Sir Rafe? To act as a bodyguard, or an escort?”
“No. I’m only here as a favor to Simon Faber.”
“So you know him well?”
“Barely at all, to tell the truth. We met in Ashthorpe. He proposed I join his group to seek the job offered by the lord of Dryton. If he hadn’t spoken with me in the tavern, I would probably be miles away right now, looking for the next tourney to compete in. That’s what I usually do.”
“I’m happy you’re here instead,” she said, feeling very shy. “You take well to this work—the men all respect you. I saw today how they jump at the slightest command. You’re a natural leader.”
Rafe laughed at that. “I’m nothing of the sort. Simon and his boys are just green. Any authority would seem wise to them.”
“You are too modest.”
“That, my lady, is not something I’ve ever been accused of.” Rafe gave her a wicked grin.
“What is a more common accusation?” she returned playfully.
“Oh, too handsome, too charming, too clever…that sort of thing.”
“Not modest at all, then.”
“As I warned you when we first met,” he said.
Seeing a large fallen log near the edge of the pond, she stopped. “I’d like to sit here a while.”
“We have time.”
“You could sit with me…unless you need to keep watch, lest a deer or a rabbit comes to attack me?”
“I’ll risk it,” he said, sitting down just close enough that if she reached out she could touch him. “The local rabbits are probably not a threat.”
She laughed. “You don’t act like any other knight I’ve met. Not that I’ve met many. I enjoy talking to you.”
Rafe gave her wink. “Don’t get used to it, my lady. At your nunnery, you’ll endure days of silence. Or endless prayer.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“Why is it to be a nunnery?” he asked, more intently. “Why not marry again? You were widowed so young. How have you not gained more suitors?”
“I have nothing to offer. Who would wish to marry the broken widow of a minor nobleman’s son? Even aside from my affliction, I bring no great lands, nor distinguished name. And…” she broke off.
“And what?”
“Nothing.”
“Were I a lord, I’d offer for you.”
“Were you a lord, you would need to make alliances, or gain land, or get an heir, like any other man. You’d choose a young bride with a great dowry to bring to the marriage bed.”
“Just as well I’m not a lord then. None of those things do I want. Not lands, or alliances, or an heir.”
She was skeptical. “What man doesn’t want a legacy? What would your father say if you told him such?”
“I don’t know, because I don’t know who my father is,” Rafe said. His tone was careless, but she saw a flash of pain in those deep blue eyes. “Maybe he’s one of the great lords of England. Or maybe he was a common soldier, dead a day after siring me. I have no idea, and no loyalty to a man I have no name or face for. Let that be my legacy—that I won’t do the same to a child that my father did to me.”
“Oh,” Angelet said, reaching out to cover his hand with hers. “Don’t say that. You don’t know where you come from, but I am sure you were loved. Your mother, what of her? Did she tell you nothing of your birth?”
“My mother’s identity is a mystery to me too. I don’t remember her at all. I think she must have got rid of me the first moment she could after I was born.”
“You can’t say that about your mother!” Angelet said, thinking of what she’d do to see her own son again.
“I can and I will,” Rafe said bitterly. “The cold fact of the matter is that I was born a bastard and then instantly abandoned. So don’t speak to me of family name or legacy. They’re empty dreams, stories nobles tell each other to convince themselves they’re better than the peasants plowing their fields. I’ll make my own way.”
“Is that why you’re a soldier?”
“It’s a profession where skill is all that matters. Doesn’t matter how noble a man’s blood is…he can still lose it all on the battlefield.”
Angelet winced at the thought of him dead.
“Forgive me,” he said. “None of these things are subjects to discuss with a lady. I shouldn’t have said anything. In fact, why am I telling you any of this?”
“Do you not normally confide in a woman?” she asked.
His expression became more closed off than before. “I don’t confide in anyone.”
“You must have someone,” she said. “I refuse to believe you’re alone, without friends or companions or someone you love.”
“Why does it matter to you?” he asked. He turned toward her, his expression dark. “I don’t want pity—”
Without knowing that she was going to do it, Angelet leaned over and kissed him.
It had been a terribly, terribly long time since she’d kissed a man, and the initial touch of his mouth to hers sent a shock through her whole being, as if she’d been brushed with fire. She leaned closer, deepening the kiss as she laid her hands on his shoulders.
She didn’t know what she thought he would do in reaction to her wanton advance, but she expected something faster and fiercer than what he did.
Rafe slipped one work-roughened, calloused hand behind her neck, teasing the soft skin there. He took his time tasting her, running the tip of his tongue along her lower lip. Angelet moaned a little as she pressed herself closer to him. The dusk surrounding them weakened her inhibitions, allowing her to indulge in this unwise but most tantalizing folly.
He drew out the kiss slowly, as if they were the only people in the world. Angelet desperately tried to remember how she was supposed to kiss, but with every passing second, her mind spun further and further from reason, lost in the maelstrom of sensation caused by Rafe’s mouth on hers. No need for her to remember how to kiss…he knew what to do. When she felt his tongue flick against hers, she gasped and pulled back for a second, but Rafe didn't let her go far—by now he’d somehow wrapped both arms around her, and she was molded against him, kissing him over and over.
Only when the cry of a night bird pierced the air did she recall exactly where she was, and why. She pushed herself away from Rafe, breathing hard. “A moment,” she gasped. “I need to…I don’t know what I need…” She shook her head, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “Forgive my behavior.”
“Nothing to forgive, Angelet. I liked it.” His voice was warm, easy. “If that's how you show pity, maybe I do want to be pitied after all.”
“It wasn’t pity,” Angelet confessed. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not like this normally.”
“Or you are, and you just needed to get free of your prison to know it.”
“I’m not in any prison,” she objected, remembering all the details of what brought them both here. “Remember, I’m going to join a nunnery.”
“That’s another word for prison, if the going isn’t your choice.”
“I do want to go there,” she insisted. And indeed she did, if that was where she could be cured of her affliction and if it meant she would see her son again.
“You’re hell-bent on a heavenly reward, even after a kiss like that. So you’re not going to invite me into your bed along this journey? You don’t need a lover, one last wild indulgence before you lock yourself away for the rest of your life?”
She gasped at the suggestion. “I can’t take a lover!”
“Why not?” he asked, sounding far too reasonable. “Consider, my lady, that you have what—a week? two?—before you lock yourself away behind walls for the rest of your life. You might never see a man again. You certainly won’t see one as handsome as me.”
Despite everything, she bit her lip to stop a giggle.
He continued, “For a little while, you’re on your own. You can do anything you like, experience anything you like. Including some pleasures which are denied you by the circumstances of your widowhood.”
“You offer to be my lover,” she said, to ensure she heard correctly. She couldn’t have. His words were too bold and too scandalous to be real.
Rafe nodded, his eyes locked with hers. “If you like, Angelet. If you don’t like, I’ll never press you. You have my word. And if you do take me as a lover, you can rely on my discretion. I’ll never betray a confidence, not during, and not after. And while we’re together, it’s on your terms.”
“My terms?”
He gave her a little smile. “I’ll obey your every command, indulge your every whim, satisfy your every curiosity.”
“Oh.” Angelet had never heard an offer quite like that before.
Rafe took her hand in his. “I’m not modest—I admit that. But I also don’t boast about something unless I can back it up. If you take me as your lover, you won’t be disappointed.”
“Oh.” Eventually she’d have to start breathing again. Rafe’s proximity was making her feel distinctly light-headed.
“And what have you to lose?” he added. “We’re together a fortnight, at most. Then it’s over and we go our separate ways. You to your nunnery, and me to…wherever. Either way, soon we’ll never see each other again.”
“What if we spend a night together and I wish to end it there?” she asked, hardly believing this conversation was happening.
“Then it’s ended. I mean what I say about obeying your every wish.”
“Oh.” Sweet Mercy, stop saying oh, you fool, she thought.
He waited, his eyes intent on hers. She waited for some hint that he was teasing her, or that it was a joke. But everything in his demeanor suggested he was serious.
At last, she whispered, “I must think on this.”
“Of course. It’s an unusual proposal, to be sure.”
“I may never speak of it again,” she warned.
“That’s an answer in itself.” He took her hand, laid a soft kiss on the back of it, and then released her, showing her that he didn’t just take what he wanted. He was content to wait for it to come to him. And his words made it seem quite natural for her to want to come to him.
“You’re a most perplexing man,” she said.
He smiled and it nearly took her breath away. “Yes, I know,” he said. “It’s part of my charm.”
She realized she was already leaning in for another kiss. Lord, he was dangerously attractive. Too bad he knew it.
Trying to recover a modicum of dignity, she rose to her feet. “It’s well past time to return.”
“You’re undoubtedly right.”
But she just stood there, overwhelmed by emotions.
Rafe stood too, never taking his attention from her. He raised one eyebrow. “What’s the matter? One foot in front of the other, beautiful. That’s how I manage it.” Now he was teasing her, but his teasing felt gentle rather than cruel.
“I’m moving.” She took a step. There. She did remember how to walk. Then she stumbled in the darkness.
Rafe’s hand was at her elbow. “Careful,” he said in a low voice. “If you get a scratch, it will look very bad on me. Not to mention on you.”
Rafe walked Angelet back to the inn. It was as if the kiss and his outrageous proposal never happened. But Angelet could still feel his mouth on hers, and his arms around her, a sort of protective circle that urged her to forget the whole world and focus only on him. She had no doubt that if she allowed him into her bed, it would be…memorable. He made no secret of his flirtatious nature and his experience with women.
However, actually accepting his proposal was out of the question. She was a modest lady, a widow, a soon-to-be postulant in a nunnery. She was not some woman ruled only by her lust.
In fact, she’d been good and modest her whole life…and what had it got her except being sent away to a place where there was no other choice but to be good and modest? She curled a lip in irritation. Why should she never be allowed to enjoy anything in life on her own terms? She was always being ordered by someone else. A man with more power and authority than she’d ever have.
I’ll obey your every command.
The more she thought about it, the more Rafe’s offer made her blood catch fire. What would a night with him be like, if he truly obeyed her every command and indulged her every wish? Wouldn’t that be worth it, considering the years of solitary, holy loneliness that awaited her?