Tender is the Knight (25 page)

At first, Miguel considered refusing everything, but his instincts told him that one did not deny the Earl of Cornwall and successfully live to tell the tale.  He knew he had little choice.  Besides, he wanted the property in Wales very much.  He was a greedy man.

It was his greed that told him to obey.

***

“Are you really leaving tomorrow?”

Dennis didn’t look up from packing his traveling satchel.  Ryan had asked the question ten times within the last hour alone.
  He was patient with her.

“I should have left a week ago and you know it,” he said softly. “I have remained to make sure you were well on the path to recovery.  Since you are doing so well, there is no longer any reason for me to stay. I must go, Ryan; you know this.”

Sitting on their enormous bed and swaddled in a lovely surcoat of white lamb’s wool, Ryan watched him pack with great sorrow.  She had been avoiding this day, knowing it was coming, but now that it was upon her she was wracked with sorrow.

In the past week, they had grown so incredibly close.  Dennis had never left her side.  The physic from Falmouth was still at the castle, having taken up permanent residence in the loft and finding more than enough patients to keep him busy.  Dennis kept him there for Ryan’s sake but Ryan insisted the man help the villagers that were still living in the inner bailey.  Though Dennis would have liked to have cleared the inner bailey altogether, he wouldn’t do it until he knew Ryan was strong and sound.  He didn’t want anything to upset her recovery, even something as small as displacing the villagers she still felt a sense of responsibility towards.

So they spent every waking hour together and the sleeping hours, too.  They would play card games for hours on end with a deck of painted cards Thomas had given Ryan as a gift years ago.  Sometimes Clive or Charlotte or Riston would join their games, which then turned loud when Charlotte would lose.  A few times, Riston had brought dice to the chamber and he and Ryan and Lyla would play dice until Dennis broke up the game because he didn’t think it was lady-like. 

All of this wonderful living went on over the past week, normal life playing out between people who had once been such bitter enemies. 
It would have been perfect had they not had to bury Thomas and Douglas in the middle of it.   St. Stephen’s church down near the wharf held a small mass for both knights, although Thomas was the focus of the service.  Dennis, Ryan, Lyla, Riston, Charlotte and Clive were the only attendees, and Ryan had wept as they had buried her father under the hard-packed floor of the chapel.  Douglas ended up out in the garden, far away from the man he had murdered.

Now,
that wonderful week of bonding was coming to a close and Ryan faced losing Dennis to a damnable war in Wales under circumstances that she hardly understood.  True, she knew the reasons behind his leaving. She had been there when he had discussed them.  But the fact remained that he was leaving her and that was all she could seem to focus on.

“Dennis?”

He shoved a rolled tunic into his satchel. “What is it, my love?”

She fidgeted with the hem on her sleeve. “If Riston is going, why can’t I?” she asked. “I will not be any trouble.  You need someone to take care of you while you fight.”

He stopped packing and put his hands on his hips. “Do I really have to answer that?”

“You do.”

He sighed heavily and began to look around the chamber to see if he had collected everything he needed. “Because you must stay here where you are safe,” he told her.  “You are still recovering from your wound and I will be on the road for many weeks, eventually fighting in Wales where it is freezing cold and snowing. I would not subject you to such conditions and you know it. Why would you ask such a foolish question?”

Ryan frowned. “A man who loves his wife would always want her to be with him, no matter what,” she said unhappily. “Did you lie to me when you told me
that you loved me?”

He rolled his eyes at her; she was close to pitching a fit and, frankly, he found it rather humorous.  Moving to her, he put his hands on her arms and kissed her cheek when she petulantly turned her face away from him.

“Each night I look into the sky of blue,” he whispered against her face. “For each star there’s a reason I am in love with you.  If there was anyone I would give my whole life to, it is you, my love. How can you doubt me?”

His words were soft and whispered, like a sweet strain of poetry.   She put her arms around his neck, holding him tightly.

“Dennis, please take me with you,” she murmured. I do not want to be without you.”

He buried his face in her hair. “I cannot,” he murmured. “Please do not beg me. You know I do not like it when you do that.”

He let her go to resume his packing and she frowned, so deeply unhappy. “Then I shall follow you,” she said. “I will track you like a hound tracks a fox.  I will follow you unto the ends of the earth.”

He didn’t respond to her. She was posturing now
, furious that she had been unable to change his mind.  It only made her angrier.

“You do not believe me?” she asked, climbing off the bed.  “I can do it, you know. I am very good at tracking.”

He looked at her, then, a smile playing on his lips. “I am sure it is your vast experience as a hunter that has taught you such things.”

She made a face at him and he laughed.  But Ryan wasn’t finished. “I shall stow away in your saddle bags.”

“You are a bit big,” he said drolly. “Do you think I would not notice you?”

“You would not notice me.”

“I see,” he said, stroking his chin. “I have a better idea. You will stay here like a good lass and I will return to you when my service is over. That would suit me much better.”

He was still somewhat jesting with her but his message was serious.  Ryan could see that her pleading wasn’t going to make headway with him. His mind was made up.  Feeling defeat and despair, she sank back onto the mattress as he finished up with his travel bags.

Dennis noticed she had grown oddly silent.  He looked up from securing his bags to see her sitting on the bed with tears rolling down her cheeks.  Sighing sadly, he sat on the bed beside her.

“Love, I am sorry you are so upset,” he said, wiping the moisture on her chin. “If I could take you, you know that I would. I do not want to be separated from you any more than you want to be separated from me.  But I feel this is something I must do.  If we are to ever know any measure of peace with Launceston, I must take that risk. 
Surely you understand that?”

She nodded, trying not to sob.  It wouldn’t do any good. “I am so frightened for you.”

He pulled her head to his lips for a gentle kiss. “I know,” he murmured. “But I swear I will do everything in my power to return home safely to you. Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Good.”

She suddenly burst into gut-busting sobs. “But I do not want you to go!”

Dennis grunted sadly, watching her explode with anguish. “I know you do not,” he said patiently. “I promise I will return as soon as I can.  I promise I will stay safe.  What more reassurance can I give you?”

Ryan threw her arms around his neck, her mouth on his. “
Reassure me with your touch,” she whispered, her tears wetting his cheeks. “Bed me as you have never bedded me before.  Give me your son before you leave me.”

He looked at her, surprised, but she wouldn’t let him slow her passion for something as mundane as talk.
She was on him quickly, straddling his lap as her hands went to work on the ties on his breeches.  Dennis didn’t stop her; he let her unfasten his breeches just as he snaked his hands beneath her surcoat to realize she wasn’t wearing anything beneath. He could feel her hands on his already-aroused member, positioning her body so he could enter her.  She was already wet, waiting for him, and Dennis grasped her hips as thrust deeply into her.

They moved together and he eventually fell back on the bed, one hand holding her buttocks while the other pulled the neckline of her surcoat aside so that her left breast
was exposed.  He fondled her, pulling at the nipple as Ryan’s soft and responsive body rocked with every thrust. In little time, he released himself into her, feeling her body twitch in response. 

When the grunting and gasping died down, Ryan climbed off of him, pulled his breeches completely off, disrobed herself, and climbed back on top of him. In very little time they were making love again, this time with Ryan’s soft pleas of accompanying him
to Wales being whispered in his ear.  It took every ounce of strength that Dennis possessed to hold her off.  Daylight passed into night, and still they made love to gentle whispers and tender kisses.  It went on most of the night.

When Ryan awoke in the morning, Dennis was gone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

London, England

“
D’ Vant? Where have I heard of this house?”

The man repeated the name as if he could almost recall it from some distant memory.  He had fair, thinning hair and one droopy eye much in the same fashion as his younger brother. The sagging eyelid was a dominant Plantagenet trait that most, but not all, in the family seemed to possess, including His Most Royal Majesty, King Henry III.

“Rodrick d’ Vant, my king, was the son of Robere Avignon d’ Vant, a knight who served your uncle in the Holy Land, and his wife, Maura of Avon.” A small, well-dressed man stood before his king. “Do you not recall your father’s fondness for Maura? She was quite lovely, with long blond hair and gray eyes. She was at court from the time she was thirteen and….”

Henry nodded his head, curtly, to cut him off. “Indeed, I recall her from my youth. Rodrick is her bastard from my father’s loins.”

The well-dressed servant half-nodded, half-bowed. “It was said that your father raped her, resulting in Rodrick.”

“I still do not understand why this son of
d’ Vant has come. Where is Rodrick?”

“
Rodrick is dead, my king. Dennis has come to speak with you on a most urgent matter.”

Henry gazed at his Master of the Chamber through pale, small eyes.  When he rose from his gil
ded wooden chair, there was no mistaking that he was a king in a long line of kings; his royalty was in the very air he breathed. He appeared lost in thought as he paced around his Master of the Chamber, and the chamberlain watched him carefully.

“
I have no use for distant relatives,” he finally said.

“He is your nephew, my king.”

That was true. “I have many illegitimate relatives running about,” Henry snorted.  “This one is no different.”

“Perhaps not, my king,” the chamberlain replied. But he was a wise man and knew how to manipulate his liege. “Yet I understand the
d’ Vant’s are fabulously rich. They control St. Austell harbor, one of the largest harbors in Cornwall.”

Predictably, Henry’s interested was teased.  It would do well for the expensive Welsh war he was financing to be civil to a rich relative, no matter how distant. He appeared to rethink his harsh stance. “Isn’t my brother at war with
d’ Vant?”

The chamberlain shrugged. “For years there have been disagreements,
Your Grace.  The Earl of Cornwall is also, no doubt, aware of d’ Vant’s wealth. Perhaps he wants it for himself.”

Henry pondered the idea of his brother becoming more wealthy than he already was and the very thought recoiled him. “A vital matter, did you say?”

“He said that it was vital and most urgent, my king.”

The king lifted an eyebrow.  The day outside was waning and he was looking forward to the evening feast; a liaison he had sent to France to solicit mercenaries for his Welsh campaign had returned and he was eager to speak to the man. Even now, his chamber servants were preparing his garments, tunics of silver and shoes of leather and gold, and the fine wine he had been sampling for the last hour had given him a glorious mood. 
Dennis d’ Vant was not a part of his immediate plans.

But he had to be careful not to offend a rich relative. “Send him away,” Henry said. “I will see him later, tomorrow perhaps. House him in fine chambers and tell him I shall send for him.”

The chamberlain bowed deeply. “With respect, Your Grace, he has ridden all the way from Cornwall in three days. He says that that the matter involves your brother, Richard.”

Henry’s interest was immediately peaked. “Why
did not you say that before?”

“You did not ask,
Your Grace.”

Henry’s thin face tensed. “You toy with me, Faison.
An unwise choice.”

The man bowed low, so low that his face nearly touched the floor. It was an exaggerated gesture of obedience; if Henry was wily and cunning, Faison du
Rennic was twice that with a ruthless streak to match.  Of all Henry’s obedient courtiers, Faison would be the one most likely to find himself in the vault with his questionable tactics. But he and his king made a troublesome, oddly comfortable pair; in spite of his character, Faison was nonetheless a very wise man.

“Never would I attempt to do so, my king,” he lied sincerely. Then, his head came up ever so slightly and his bright eyes looked at Henry. “But it would be my suggestion that you see him. Perhaps he brings news of your brother. You did send him a missive requesting funds for Wales, did you not?”

Henry’s look of anger vanished. “Why would d’ Vant bring news of my brother?”

Faison straightened. “There is but one way to find out, my king.”

The king almost looked excited. “Perhaps he’s come to tell me that my brother is dead as a result of their skirmishes.”

The chamberlain smiled. “Then the earl’s vast fortune has defaulted to the crown.”

The idea struck Henry and he was consumed with the possibilities. The servants were waiting patiently to dress their king for supper but he waved off the entire group and they scattered like chickens. Planting himself in his gilded chair, he flicked an imperious wrist at Faison.

“Show my dear nephew in.”

***

“You really
should not be angry at him, you know,” Lyla said impatiently. “The way you were begging and carrying on, I do not blame him for leaving in the middle of the night like he did. You gave him no choice.”

Ryan
stood before the lancet window, brushing her long amber hair with a bristly horse-hair brush.  Over two weeks since her accident, she was quickly gaining better mobility in her right arm and shoulder, but her improving health had no bearing on her sour mood.  Her pretty face was terribly dour as she gazed into the bright morning beyond the window.  In the distance, sea birds rose and fell, and the sun glittered off the diamond-like waters of the bay.  But Dennis’ absence made the beauty surrounding her seem colorless and sad.

“I simply cannot believe he left without saying goodbye,” she muttered. “When we went to bed that night, he never said a word about his plans.”

Lyla was trying to repair the gown that had been damaged by the arrow attack.  Patrizia had managed to dye the gown a darker gray color to cover the blood, but the torn woolen material was another matter. While Patrizia sat on the floor hemming the torn skirt, Lyla’s steady hands focused on the shoulder.

“
Ryan, you cried and begged for Dennis to take you with him until he could stand it no longer,” Lyla set the mending in her lap. “He is only a man, for pity’s sake. How much begging and tears did you think he could take from you?”

Ryan
turned away from the window. She was wearing a gown of thick blue brocade this day, embroidered with yellow and pink and green flowers about the bodice.  Gathering her long hair at the nape of her neck, she silently secured it with a pale blue ribbon. 

“He could have at least told me goodbye,” she said again. “I hate him for it.”

“No, you do not,” Patrizia said quietly. “You love him just as he loves you.”

“I do not!”

Lyla shook her head. “Enough, Ryan. We have been listening to you bemoan him for the past few days and I am tired of it. The man must do as he must and he does not need your troubles.”

A flash of anger moved through
Ryan’s golden-brown eyes. “I wasn’t giving him trouble. He needs me, whether it is at St. Austell or in London.”

Lyla looked down to her mending. It was Patrizia who spoke the obvious. “He
is going to Wales.”

Ryan
stared at the women a moment, fighting off the feelings of terror and loss.  They seemed to grow stronger by the day. “Precisely my point,” she said after a moment. “He needs me to take care of him as he fights for the king.”

Lyla gazed up at her as if she was mad. “
Needs
you to take care of him? The last thing he needs is to worry about you while he is fighting battles!”

The hurtful words were nonetheless true. But
Ryan still hated the feelings of abandonment and betrayal even though she knew Dennis had done nothing wrong.  Recalling their last night together, he had perhaps held her more closely than he ever had, and their lovemaking had encompassed the better part of the night. He could not seem to touch her enough, or kiss her enough. She should have been smart enough to realize they were the final touches of her husband. It hadn’t even occurred to her. But as far as she was concerned, Dennis had not won the war. He had merely won a battle and she was determined to have her way in all of this.

“Perhaps you are right,” she sighed, hoping she
did not sound too acquiescent. “I would only be in the way.”

Patrizia smiled up at her sympathetically while Lyla, predictably, was immediately suspicious. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded.

Ryan tried to look innocent. “Exactly what I said, Lyla. You are right; he does not need me hanging about and diverting his attention.”

Lyla’s eyes narrowed. “What are you planning,
Ryan?”

Ryan
gave her an impatient look. “What could I possibly plan with my shoulder only half-healed?”

Lyla
did not believe her for a moment. “A great many things, I would think.”

Ryan
waved a hand at her. “You are mad.”

She turned to the polished mirror against the wall that had once belonged to
Dennis’ mother. The girl staring back at her somehow seemed older, more mature. It wasn’t so much in her features as in her eyes; she looked like a child who had finally learned what it meant to be a woman.

“Who is going with me?” she asked, still staring at her reflection.

Patrizia looked confused but Lyla suddenly bolted up from her chair and began stomping about. “I
knew
it!” she hissed. “I knew this would happen!”

“What has happened?” Patrizia asked.

Lyla whirled to her. “She is going after him!” She threw her hands up in the air as if to beseech God for wisdom. “Why does she always do this?
Why?”

Patrizia looked at
Ryan. “She has done this before?” she sounded confused.

Lyla was raving. “It’s always one stupid scheme after another.
We are forever running about, to and fro, like mindless animals. And it’s all
her
fault!”

Ryan
ignored Lyla. She went to the trunks still stacked against the wall and opened a particularly large one to reveal not only her clothing, but also a worn satchel shoved in with her shoes.   She removed the satchel and threw it on the bed.

Patrizia watched with growing apprehension. “
You are really going after him?” she repeated in awe. “But… you cannot!”

“I can and I will,”
Ryan said calmly. She was tossing garments onto her bed at an alarming rate. “My husband needs me.”

Patrizia looked stricken as Lyla continued to march about. “
You are mad!” she raved. “He does not need you and you know it. You are simply going after him because he told you that you could not. You are a spoiled little girl, Ryan de Bretagne!”

Ryan
reached out and grasped her cousin’s arm as she passed by the bed; the gesture was swift and harsh and Lyla gasped as Ryan’s sharp nails dug into her soft flesh. But when she met her cousin’s eyes, there was no mistaking the deadly intentions within the golden-brown depths and Lyla’s protests died in her throat.

“My name is the Lady
Ryan de Bretagne d’ Vant, and I am going with or without your help,” Ryan hissed. “Dennis has literally saved my life many times over and I shall not leave him to the mercy of King Henry, or Welsh crossbows, or court whores, or anything else that might threaten his well-being. It is my duty as his wife to protect him just as it is his duty to protect me. If you try to stop me, I shall kill you or anyone else who stands in my way. Is this in any way unclear, Lyla?”

Lyla
could not ever remember being frightened of her cousin. But at this very minute she was, because she knew that Ryan meant every word. “No, Ryan,” she said softly. “But as it is your duty to protect Dennis, it is my duty, as your only living family member, to protect you. Do you understand why I must point out the folly of your intentions?”

“I do,”
Ryan let go of her arm. “But I say again that I am going to London, and to Wales, and everywhere else Dennis d’ Vant goes. He belongs to me, and I to him, and we belong together.”

Patrizia had been silent from her comfortable position on the floor. Thus
far, her dark eyes had merely watched everything very carefully. But she had been absorbing and analyzing every word.

“Charlotte
will not let you go,” she said softly. “Whatever you do will have to be by the stealth of night and someone will have to remain behind to make sure your absence is not immediately discovered. Moreover, it would not be good for you to go unescorted. You must have a man to protect you. Travelling simply isn’t safe, Ryan.”