Rogue Knight (Medieval Warriors Book 2) (12 page)

Hearing the insult, Emma’s eyes flashed in anger. She had to
bite her lower lip to keep from giving him a scathing rebuke. Surely the
archbishop had heard the remark.

“Will you not eat, Emma?” asked Sir Geoffroi looking at the
choice pieces of venison he had placed on her side of the trencher.

She stabbed the piece of meat as if it were FitzOsbern
himself and brought it to her mouth and bit down hard. But when the succulent
juices encountered her tongue she had to praise the food. “’Tis very good.”

“The knights do not often dine so well,” said Sir Geoffroi.
“We buy from the market and the herdsmen and hunt for both deer and boar, but
the preparation is usually a simple roast on a spit, not cooked in the
well-spiced sauce that has made this venison so tender. And you must try some
of the boar,” he added, laying a slice on her trencher, along with a large
helping of roasted beets, onions and turnips. “’Tis delicious.”

Emma was amused. Did he realize he had set enough on her
side of the trencher to feed two men? “You will make me fat should you expect
me to eat such large servings, sir knight.”

He turned his head so that his twinkling blue eyes met hers.
“I would see you always well cared for, Emma.”

In that moment, she forgot she was sitting in the Norman
castle surrounded by her enemies. She thought only of the knight who had been
her savior more than once. Her kind Lucifer, who was no fallen angel. More like
Gabriel, the bringer of good news. Her gaze lingered on his handsome face, his
high cheekbones, his striking blue eyes and his full lips.
Aye, Gabriel.

The archbishop drew her attention as he began to speak. “I
was delighted to see you here, Emma, dining with the new castellan. Mayhap your
presence will cause others in York to see that peace is in their interest. We
must urge them to submit to William. Further rebellion will only lead to more
hardship and death.”

The archbishop’s voice had grown thinner with age, yet she
believed Sir Geoffroi had heard him because he had been listening intently.
But, thankfully, the knight could not know why the archbishop thought her
presence might send a message to the people of York not to pursue rebellion. “I
have little to say about what the people might do, My Lord. They have much to
regret and many losses to mourn, not the least of which is their freedom.”

The archbishop sighed but said nothing.

* * *

Knowing well the losses Emma spoke of, Geoff was grateful she
had accepted his invitation to dine with his fellow Normans. It might be
difficult for her but he selfishly enjoyed having her by his side. He was proud
of how well she had done, how effortlessly she had moved among the French
nobles. And he was surprised.

Mayhap she and her husband had been among the wealthier
citizens of York. The home her husband left her certainly bespoke of such
status. The tapestries that hung on the walls in her home were as well made as
the ones Gil had added to the new hall.

Geoff sat close to her on the bench, his tunic touching her
gown, close enough to feel her heat, to smell her fresh scent and to notice her
body stiffen at FitzOsbern’s remark. Her reaction told him she understood the
words Fitz had spoken in French. Since Geoff had learned English in the three
years he’d been in England, he did not think it unusual for one as intelligent
as Emma to have learned some French in the year William’s knights had been
garrisoned in York.

There was much he wanted to ask her but the questions never
made it to his tongue, for he worried her answers might destroy the delicate
trust that had grown between them. He needed time to understand her, time for
her to freely tell him of her life. Time in which the budding affection between
them could grow. Mayhap with summer’s coming and peace, they would have that
time.

From across the table, Helise spoke. “Emma, I am thinking of
planting a garden for the new castle. Gilbert,” she looked toward the
castellan, who had stopped talking to listen, “has welcomed my efforts. We’ve
servants enough to do the work, but you know the soil of York better than I,
what to plant and where. If I could persuade you to assist me, I would welcome
your advice.”

“Do help her, Lady Emma,” said Malet, “for my lady wife is
most determined to make the garden a success before we leave at summer’s end
for
Holderness
.”

Geoff suspected along with help for her planting, Helise
wanted Emma’s company. He knew of her kitchen garden behind her home, which she
had tenderly cultivated with her servants since the first signs of spring.
Helise’s garden would be a much larger affair, one to supply a castle. Would
Emma want to take on such a task with all she had to do? Would she even know
how to begin?

“I would be pleased to help you,” Emma said graciously.

“Very good!” exclaimed Malet.

Geoff supposed the sheriff also wanted a woman’s
companionship for his wife while they were in York, but Geoff had another
reason to be glad she had agreed to Helise’s request. He would see her more
often.

“How fortunate for me,” offered Gil, “this garden business
will bring you back to the castle I am responsible for.”

Geoff held back the curse that nearly slipped from his lips,
but allowed the scowl on his face at the thought of the handsome castellan
paying court to Emma.

“I detect Sir Geoffroi likes not your coming into my
castle’s bailey,” said Gil.

“’Tis not the castle’s bailey, so much as the castellan that
concerns me,” Geoff said.

“Do not mind the cocks’ banter, Emma,” advised Helise.
“Before the dinner is over and Sir Geoffroi sweeps you into the night, we must
plan for your return.”

Geoff heard Emma let out a sigh and he reached his hand to
hers where it rested between them on the bench, giving her slender fingers a
gentle squeeze. “Her sons are here, Emma, and only a bit older than the twins.”

She looked across to Helise. “Mayhap I will bring along one
day the two children who are my charges.”

“I am certain my boys would like to meet them,” replied
Helise.

Listening to the exchange, Geoff wondered. Had she agreed to
help Helise for his sake, or only because she was at heart a gracious woman? He
hoped her desire to see him had led to her willingness to help Helise, but
however it came about, it pleased him that she would be close to where he was
most days, where he could see her more often. With difficulty, he pulled his
gaze from her face. In Helise’s company, she would also be protected by Malet’s
guards—and from Gilbert’s attentions.

When the last course was served, musicians came forward to
entertain the guests, a bard with a triangular-shaped harp and another musician
with a dulcimer. They reminded him of Rhodri and the evenings at Talisand when
the Welsh bard and Lady Serena had entertained them with song. He missed Talisand
and such evenings, but were he to leave York without Emma, he would miss her
more.

He glanced beyond Emma to see the music was lulling the old
archbishop to sleep.

“Why, Sir Geoffroi,” Emma suddenly said, her eyes following
the platter the servants set before them. “’Tis strawberry tarts. I have seen
wild strawberries growing near the edge of the fields. Knowing your fondness
for the sweet treats, you must be eager to partake.”

He grinned. “I am.” He reached for a tart and placed it on
her side of their trencher, then retrieved one for himself, “Yet I do not see
how they can rival the ones served by a certain lady of my acquaintance who
lives in York.”

“Oh, but these you need not share with a hound and two
ravenous children.”

He laughed at the memory, for it was a pleasant one and not
just because of the tarts.

“The sharing of them was half the pleasure,” he said.
Reminded of Emma’s household, the young woman who lived with Emma came to his
mind. “How is Inga? I did not see her this day.”

“She was resting when you arrived. I think she is
recovering, yet sometimes when she is lost in her thoughts, there is a sadness
about her. While ’tis understandable, it worries me.”

The music faded into the background. The candlelight cast a
warm glow on Emma’s ivory skin and made her blue-green eyes change to a dark
blue. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to claim her as his. To see her at
Talisand. “Mayhap a change of place might help her.”

“Mayhap…” said Emma.

When the music stopped and the last of the tarts had been
consumed, the guests rose. Helise came to engage Emma in conversation about the
plans for the new garden.

Malet drew Geoff aside. “Sir Geoffroi,” he whispered. “I
must tell you after watching your lady this evening I do not think she is just
any widow in York.”

“I would agree, Malet, she is more comely than the other
women of York and what you do not see is her heart, as beautiful as her face.”

“You do not get my meaning,” Malet said in apparent
frustration. “For one thing, she speaks French. Did you not see her eyes narrow
when Fitz made his unwise remark? Helise pinched me she was so annoyed with the
man, but it hardly suited for me to take the earl to task in the middle of the
feast.”

“Aye, I had the same impression. She might speak French. So,
what of it? We speak their tongue.”

“There is more,” Malet counseled. “’Tis clear the archbishop
is well acquainted with her and she has the air of a highborn woman. What do
you know of her?”

Geoff grew indignant at the sheriff’s probing. “I know all I
need to. She is beautiful, kind and cares for others. She lives with two
orphaned children and a young woman she has taken under her wing who was sorely
misused by one of William’s more disreputable knights.” He said nothing about
the man whose large shoes he saw in the chamber where they had laid the
sword-maker. He did not want to consider what it might mean, so he dismissed
the thought. Emma was all that was good.

“All to her credit, I admit,” said Malet. “But I cannot help
wondering if she might not be acquainted with the leaders of Northumbria we
replaced. Earl Cospatric, comes to mind for one. Could she be a rebel spy?”

“I had heard that Cospatric left Scotland but as yet he’s
not been seen in England. And no, she is not a rebel spy. What is there to spy
upon? There are no secrets here that I know of.”

“Mayhap not, but I would suggest you watch her closely.”

“I intend to, my lord sheriff,” Geoff said with a sly grin,
“most closely.”

* * *

Emma had not imagined the evening with the Normans would be
so enjoyable, though as she considered it, the pleasantness must be attributed
more to the knight who had accompanied her than to anything else. She had begun
to relax in Sir Geoffroi’s presence when her temper had flared at FitzOsbern’s
remark. The man’s arrogance was exceeded only by his ignorance.

Her respect for Sir Geoffroi and fear of disclosing who she
was had stilled her tongue. She would not embarrass him nor reveal all she
knew. To do so would be to betray the two men she held in highest regard, the
knight she had come to trust and her noble father. Oddly, it had been the
knight who had come first to her mind. But she would not allow herself to
consider that her feelings for Sir Geoffroi might run deeper than merely
respect.

When they had taken leave of their host and descended the
stairs to the bailey, their horses were waiting, along with Sir Alain.

The huge knight grinned, making his scar seem less
formidable. “A pleasant evening, I trust?”

“Most pleasant,” said Sir Geoffroi, helping her to mount her
mare.

Soon they were retracing their path to her home.

For some time, the three rode along in silence. The streets
were darkened, but the waxing moon shining in the star-studded sky was so
bright their horses cast dim shadows.

“Thank you for attending the feast,” said Sir Geoffroi.

“’Twas the least I could do for all you have done for me and
those I love.”

Sir Geoffroi chuckled. “And now you have another garden to
plant.”

“I do not mind. Helise Malet is pleasant enough. And the
twins might enjoy her sons, but I cannot promise that Finna will not again
refer to your king as a bastard.” She smiled at the memory of innocent Finna
speaking with the knight.

“William hates the label, but ’tis what he is. You and
Serena, Countess of Talisand, have in common your dislike of the king. She,
too, once called him that.”

“She is English?”

“Aye, and has no love for William, but for the sake of the
Red Wolf, she tolerates our sire’s presence when he visits.”

Emma could not imagine entertaining the Norman king and
thought Serena must be an unusual woman

They turned down Emma’s street. It was quiet with nary a
candle she could see, save in her own home where the light flickered behind the
skins that covered the windows. She was comforted by the knowledge that the
hearth fire would still be burning and the brazier in her chamber would be
warming the space. Artur, ever faithful, would have seen to it.

They reached her house and Sir Geoffroi slid off his horse
to help her dismount. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and allowed
him to lift her down, her breasts brushing his chest as her feet met the
ground. For a moment their gazes met, the moonlight bathing them in its soft
glow. His hands still on her waist, he bent his head and kissed her lightly.
His lips were warm and as gentle as she had remembered them. Though tender,
there was passion in the kiss and when he raised his lips from hers, he was
breathing heavily. So was she.

He kissed her forehead and whispered, “That you do not
reject my kiss encourages me, Emma. Were we alone, I would not leave you so
soon.” He pulled back and let out a breath. “Still, I would provide no further
display for either Alain or your neighbors who might be curious to know what
passes between us.”