Joanna Davis - Knights In Shining Armor (2 page)

              He was really here.

              Those same dazzling blue eyes, the strong jaw and handsome face. The light brown hair that once curled over his temples was cropped short but other than that- They stared at each other for a long moment before she realized that she was wrong- he
had
changed. He was older, yes, but there was more to it than that. His mouth was set in a grim line. His once merry eyes were stony and hard. His cheeks had hallowed out, making him look chiseled and harsh and… angry…
at her.

              She had been about to take a step toward him but she stopped, uncertain.

              "Wine."

              She blinked at him, trying to understand what he was saying when she could barely hear over the rapid-fire beating of her heart. Rowan was here! He had come at last!

              "What?"

              "Bring wine. And ale for the men."

              She stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Didn't he recognize her? Wasn't he going to acknowledge her in some way?

              "Be quick about it."

              She jumped at the command in his voice and scurried out of the great hall, Magda and Leidel at her heels.

**********

              Rowan sat heavily at the table, waiting for his wine in an increasingly foul temper. He was bone weary, yes, but the excitement of taking the castle had kept him on edge for days. Now instead of being triumphant he was irritated… and confused.

              Perplexed by the sweet look of recognition on her face. By the realization that she still looked like an angel, even partially hidden under her hood. By the fact that his heart had leapt at the sight of her. Ant then she'd taken a step toward him and lifted her hand as if to- what- embrace him joyfully?

              He pushed the thought aside. She was not so foolish to think that all would be forgiven with a friendly greeting. He was not a boy any longer. He would not be appeased by a few stolen kisses hidden in a park while her chaperone was distracted. He was a man now and he didn't want her any more.

             
Liar.

              "Have you ever heard Rowan talk to a woman like that?"

              "He hardly ever talks to them at all, unless he's set on taking them to bed."

              "Well, if he doesn't, I will. Looks like an angel that one."

              "Shut up Kenneth."

              Two of his men, Kenneth and Wyeth, took their seats at the table. They had been with Rowan they longest and together they formed his inner circle. Wyeth was an older soldier, and had been a mentor to Rowan as he came up the ranks. Kenneth was in his barracks from the beginning. While rarely serious, he was a good fighter and kept those around him in good spirits. Rowan had made sure to bring them both along as his fortunes rose.

              He felt his muscles tighten up as Emeline came in back in with the wine and several goblets. She set them down and poured them each a glass as the other servants rolled out a cask of ale for the men.

              He drank deeply, savoring the fine vintage, savoring the warmth of her standing so near. He felt her turn to leave and lashed out, grabbing her wrist.

              She gasped, her startled eyes flying to his. Obviously she wasn't used to being manhandled. He stared coldly into those beautiful green eyes of hers. Those eyes that hid nothing, showing him in one glance the depth of her fear and confusion.

              He felt a twinge of the old Rowan, wanting to tell her all would be well, that he would protect her. But he pushed it aside. If she was afraid, then she would be more biddable. It was to his advantage to keep her off balance.

              "Bring us something to eat. And then come back. I want you to show me to my chamber."

              He released her and turned back to his wine. Across the table, Kenneth and Wyeth exchanged a glance.

              "Did the gel do something wrong?"

              "Lady."

              "What?"

              "She's not a girl, she's a lady. Go see to the horses now."

              Kenneth raised his eyebrows at the harsh command but got up, leaving Wyeth to bear him company. Only Rowan found that he didn't want company at the moment. He wanted-

              Emeline was back, laying a platter before them. Roast chicken, cheese and bread. She stepped backwards again, clearly unsure what to do next. Rowan tore into his food with gusto. Wyeth turned to Emeline and stood.

              "Thank ye for the food Lady-"

              He let his voice dangle, hinting for her name. Rowan watched as she smiled graciously and curtsied.

              "Emeline. It's nice to meet you Sir-"

              "Sir Wyeth, at your service."

              Rowan interrupted them before they could go on. He didn't like the way Emeline was smiling at Wyeth. He didn't like how relieved she looked at the scrap of kindness the older soldier had shown her.

              "How long will it take for a hot bath?"

              "A few minutes. I can go-"

              "No. Send one of the other servants. You wait."

              He could feel disapproval radiating off of his second in command. Emeline was standing to his side, nervously watching him eat. He ignored them both.

              When he was finished eating he stood up.

              "You may show me to my room now."

              She nodded and led him out of the hall. Rowan stared at the gentle sway of her hips, the rest of her figure maddeningly concealed by her cloak. He'd order her to remove it he decided. His fingers itched to snatch it away from her as he followed her up the stairs to a long galley. She stopped in front of a door and waited for him to open it.

              It was a massive chamber with a huge heavily carved wooden bed. A fireplace, chest of drawers and a bench under the window completed the masculine effect. It oozed wealth and privilege. He was pleased.

              He turned to see Emeline hesitating outside the door. He gestured to her to enter. Slowly she came inside and stood near the wall. He caught her staring at the bed with trepidation.

              "Fond memories?"

              "What?"

              "Do you have fond memories of your husband?"

              She stared at him for a moment.

              "No."

              He felt a rush of something at her answer… relief. So she hadn't loved her husband after all. Not that it mattered. She had chosen to marry him and now she was a widow. She was fair game.

              "Is that why you don't sleep in here? I don't see any trace of a woman's things."

              She was staring at the ground.

              "Answer me Emeline."

              Her head snapped up at his use of her name. There was something almost hopeful in her eyes for a split second but it quickly vanished. He stared at her, wishing he could hear her thoughts.

              "No. I- I never slept here. I have my own room."

              "Where is that?"

              "In the tower."

              He nodded.

              "Very well. You may keep your room for the time being."

              She said nothing.

              "Will they be long with the bath?"

              "I can go check-"

              "Stop."

              She'd been halfway out the door. Was she truly as afraid of him as it seemed? If she wasn't, she probably should be. After all she was the one who had betrayed him, not vice versa.

              "Why do you wear your hood? Are you disfigured?"

              "No."

              "Then why do you wear it?"

              "It just seemed wise."

              "In what way?"

              "To conceal myself around strangers."

              He narrowed his eyes. That was not a satisfactory answer.

              "Take it off. I don't like it."

              She turned so that she stood in the doorway, half in and half out of the room, poised to run. Slowly she lifted her hands to her neck and untied the laces there. She pulled the hood back and he could finally see her profile as she slid the cloak off her shoulders.

              "Emeline."

              She lifted her head to face him and his heart stopped. She was even more beautiful than he'd remembered. Far more so. Time had relieved her of the roundness of youth and made her remarkable features even more pleasing. Her sparkling green eyes peered up at him questioningly. For a moment, she quite literally took his breath away.

              She'd been exceptionally pretty before. Now she was exquisite.

              "Sweet Jesu…"

              She stepped backwards in alarm as he approached her. He reached out and cupped her cheek, turning her face so he could look at her at his leisure. He moved closer, so that their breath intermingled.

              "You are even lovelier than you were all those years ago."

              "So you do remember me? I thought…"

              "Yes, I do…"

              She was staring up at him with a sweet expression on her face. She looked so shy and hopeful that he nearly changed his plans. It was an act of course, but an effective one. He wondered how far she would take it. Her eyes dropped to his lips as he leaned forward imperceptibly. Her eyelids fluttered softly to her cheeks. He felt his whole body tense up in anticipation of having her in his arms again. Why shouldn't he kiss her? She was his, as much as anyone or anything in this castle. He could do whatever he wanted. He could-

              "Hot water!"

              He stepped aside as the burly guard carried several steaming buckets of water into the room, pouring it into the hammered brass tub in the corner by the fireplace. He cursed as Emeline slipped out from under his arm and into the hallway. By the time he'd stepped around the departing guard, the sound of scurrying footsteps were all that remained.

Two

              Emeline crashed up the stairs to her room without holding the bannister, heedless of the sharp fall. She was inside her room with the door slammed before she let the tears come.

             
He was here.

              Joy and anguish were battling it out in her chest, as they had been since his arrival.

              He was here and he remembered her. Oh god he was here! But he was not as
she
remembered
him
. He had changed. He was a hard man now, mayhap even a cruel one. He was going to make her life difficult a'purpose, she could tell.

              He was enjoying this.

              But then he'd said she was lovely. She had seen the old Rowan briefly as he gazed on her with a look full of longing. The look is his eyes had been true, she did not doubt that. And then he'd nearly kissed her.

             
Nearly.

              She knew it was better that he had not, even though she had wanted him to… desperately. But where could it lead? Clearly he was not here for her. It was just chance that this castle was the one he'd been given. Cruel, merciless chance.

              She clasped her hand over her mouth as she sunk to her bed. What was she to do? She knew instinctively that he was a threat to her. She would leave Fairhaven immediately if she was wise. But where could she go? And how?

              No. She would not run from him. Her people needed her. She could not leave until she knew they would be well looked after.

              Then again, being so near to him was intoxicating, even changed as he was. She knew it would be hard to leave when the time came.

              Not when there was a chance that he loved her still. She'd never stopped holding him in her heart. Perhaps they could begin again, all these years later.

              There was a very strong feeling in her gut that that was not the case.

**********

              Rowan sat at the table, fresh from his bath and waiting for the evening meal to be served. He sipped his wine, contemplating his next course of action. His men were seated on either side of him, filling the full length of the table. Only one seat remained empty across from him. Hers.

              "Go and see where your mistress is. Tell her I expect her to join us immediately."

              The elderly servant left to do his bidding. He imagined that Emeline was sulking, perhaps taking longer than necessary to dress herself advantageously, all the better to lure him to do her bidding. He knew of women and their wiles.

              He was wrong.

              In just a few moments she was standing in front of him. She was clad in an apron and a plain woolen dress. Her hair was piled high atop her head haphazardly. There was something on her cheek. Flour he thought. He resisted the urge to pull her into his lap and tenderly wipe it off.

              She looked adorable. But she did not look dressed for dinner. She was making a point obviously. If he was going to treat her like a servant, albeit an imminently desirable one, she would dress like one. He almost admired her tactic.

              Almost.

              "Change."

              "Excuse me?"

              "You will change for dinner and be back down here properly attired before I finish drinking my wine. Unless you want to displease me and see what happens."

              He slowly lifted the goblet to his lips and sipped. He watched the pink rise in her cheeks as she realized what he had just said. He suppressed a smile as she hastened from the room. He ignored the probing look his comrades were casting his way and enjoyed the rest of his wine. With each sip her allotted time was disappearing.