The Christmas Knight (33 page)

“I’m so sorry,” Ranulf whispered, his voice full of remorse and self-loathing for what he still needed to do. “But I must continue. I promise the pain will pass.”

Bronwyn lifted her head from his chest and shifted off his lap so that he could once again massage her legs. “Then I’ll be able to walk again?” she asked, staring at her two immobile limbs. “They look so…pale.”

Ranulf paused and pushed another piece of bread into her palm, motioning for her to sit back and eat it. Then his fingers resumed their unpleasant task of kneading the sensitive flesh. “The firelight doesn’t make it easy to see, but I can already tell that the circulation is returning. The skin is much warmer to the touch and the unnatural color is gradually lessening. You’re going to be fine.”

With the last few words, his speech had become halted, and his hands started shaking, forcing him to stop. He had not been lying—although he would have. She was going to recover completely. He had been given a second chance.

“I love you, Bronwyn. I always have,” he whispered, unmoving, still staring at her legs. “From the first moment I saw you, you lit up my soul. Such happiness doesn’t come to men like me. I thought if I said it aloud, then it would all disappear, I would lose control…and you.” He paused and tilted his head to look at her directly. “I won’t ever make that mistake again,” Ranulf vowed. For the rest of their lives, she would know just how much she meant to him.

Bronwyn gently leaned forward and peered into his face before reaching out to stroke his cheek. “I was so afraid, Ranulf. Not of dying, but of not seeing you one last time. I should have told you that I understood why you didn’t tell me about my father. That I do trust you and never stopped loving you.”

Ranulf clasped his hand around her neck and drew her lips to his. This time the kiss was sensuous and filled with renewed promise. She was the fire in his blood and as necessary to life. He probed the warmth of her mouth as his hands tenderly caressed her spine. Responsive to his touch, Bronwyn moved in closer, shivering with need. His body ached for more, but he feared crushing her frail frame. Still he could not muster the will to break the embrace and gave in to the desire for one more sweet kiss.

When he finally lifted his head, Bronwyn lay in his arms, reveling in their strength, feeling like she was floating on a blissful cloud. She trusted this man above all others. He’d been hardened by years of being alone, but from him, she received a tenderness unlike any other. He comforted her with a masculine calm. His presence brought her a kind of security. She lifted her gaze and traced the silver scar on his cheek. “I knew you loved me,” she said softly. “I have known for some time.”

“Lily said you did.”

At the mention of her sister, Bronwyn pushed against his chest to sit up. Her legs cramped at the effort, but no longer did they scream in agony. “We have to go! Ranulf, we have to leave right now. We have to get back to Hunswick. Luc is after my sisters and I—”

Ranulf placed a finger over her lips. “They are safe, love. Tyr hasn’t left Edythe’s side and I have ordered two men as guards to Lily, even though she doesn’t know it. Baron Craven cannot get to them.”

Pulling his hand down, Bronwyn sought additional reassurance. “But you, are you safe? I saw the battle, and the king—”

This time, Ranulf used a soft lingering kiss to silence her concerns. “As long as you are mine, nothing else matters.”

Bronwyn chuckled. “Nothing? What about Hunswick? My sisters?”

“The people of Hunswick will recover the instant they see you and both your sisters are stronger than I would have thought. Even when I left, they were preparing for Hogmanay because they knew you would have wanted it.”

“Tonight is First Footing?” Bronwyn squealed, her eyes dancing with happiness. “If we leave now, do you think we could arrive in time?”

Ranulf furrowed his brows. The ride was long and she had only just started to recover. “It might be too painful.”

“Ranulf, First Footing is my
favorite
holiday. My sisters and I have always welcomed the first visitor and this year will be no different. I want to be there.”

Seeing the longing in her eyes, Ranulf could deny her nothing. But this year, it would be different. She would be the one welcomed.

If he could get them there in time.

Up ahead, just outside of Hunswick, a lone dark man was approaching the gatehouse. Ranulf urged Pertinax into a faster gait, catching the designated first visitor just in time. “Tory!”

The solitary figure stopped and looked around, moving into the moonlight. Seeing Ranulf riding toward him with Bronwyn sitting across his lap, the young soldier’s jaw dropped open. Bronwyn couldn’t help but chuckle at Tory’s openly shocked expression and the tinkling sound of her laughter filled the air.

Ranulf pulled Pertinax beside Tory. “Sorry to disrupt your plans, but I have a different visitor in mind.”

Tory’s face broke into a huge grin and he reached into his bag to pull out the log, salt, drink, and bread Lily had given him earlier. Handing them to Bronwyn, he said, “I’ll go and spread the word. I have a feeling that everyone is going to want to greet Hunswick’s first visitor this year.”

Bronwyn accepted the items, tears filling her eyes with joy. She looked up at Ranulf. “That’s why you didn’t want to stop and take a break,” she breathed, her voice barely audible. Then, she gave him a blinding smile and mouthed the words “Thank you.”

Ranulf laughed silently down at her, glorying in the shared moment. “Ready, love? There are two people on the other side of that gate eager to start this celebration.”

Bronwyn brushed her tears aside and, with mounting excitement bubbling inside her, said, “I think it’s time for another feast.” And with no more delay, Ranulf moved them through the narrow gatehouse and into the inner bailey.

The awaiting small crowd had gathered mostly to respect the wishes of Edythe and Lily, who had insisted the New Year tradition be followed. All knew it had been Lady Bronwyn’s favorite and that she had always insisted on following the Scottish customs just as her mother had. The jubilant occasion was one of the most popular among the people of Hunswick with only Twelfth Night as its rival. This year, however, many had elected to stay away. Edythe and Lily were busy trying to pump the spirits of the ones who had come when Constance gave a piercing shriek that got everyone’s attention. Unable to speak, she extended a wrinkled finger.

Lily went to help the distressed nursemaid as Edythe maneuvered her way through the gasping crowd, cursing her short nature. Had Lily selected someone else besides Tory to be first visitor? Seeing a large warhorse, Edythe marched up to the rider and was about to extend a welcome when familiar misty blue eyes came into view.

Edythe took a step back and started shaking violently. She would have fallen if it hadn’t been for Tyr, who instinctively swung her into his arms as she crumpled out of shock. “Am I seeing a ghost?”

Tyr kissed her hair and shook his head, his own eyes tearing at the joyous surprise. “No, love. She’s not a ghost. I see her, too.”

Leaving Constance in the care of others, Lily stood back up. Upon seeing Bronwyn, the juniper she had been holding went flying into the air. She ran toward the couple, repeating Bronwyn’s name over and over again. Reaching her sister’s side, Lily started shouting the questions all were thinking. “You’re alive! Ranulf found you! How? Are you hurt? Where have you been? Did Luc have you?”

At the last question, Ranulf sent her a silencing look that, for once, Lily heeded. He dismounted, slid Bronwyn into his arms, and then proceeded to carry her toward the Great Hall. “All questions will be answered in due time, but go find everyone and let them know to come to the Hall for food and drink. I believe this is my wife’s favorite of the Twelfthtide holidays and she would like it to be a grand one!”

Immediately the crowd dispersed and the buzz of their excitement could be heard everywhere. Their lady was alive and it was she who would be bringing in the prosperity of the New Year.

S
ATURDAY
, J
ANUARY
1, 1155
F
EAST OF THE
N
AMING AND
C
IRCUMCISION OF
C
HRIST

Ranulf held Bronwyn in his lap as she clapped along to the music. He couldn’t believe someone who had endured such an ordeal could be filled with so much joy. By the time she had bathed and gotten something more substantial to eat, all of Hunswick had arrived to greet their mistress. It mattered little that it was the middle of the night. Even Father Morrell had joined in the festivities, performing a fast jig in time with the music.

Ranulf wished that Bronwyn could join them, knowing her passion for dancing, but he made sure that she was otherwise entertained. If she thought he was being overly protective, she never said a word. Slowly, her strength was returning. She could move her arms freely and put weight on her legs, though for only short periods of time. Nevertheless, each time she tried, they became sturdier under the pressure.

Stretching his arm out behind her back, Ranulf plucked another piece of meat off one of the passing trays of food. After people learned of Bronwyn’s nearly starved state, the kitchen hearths were fired up and soon started spilling out her favorite foods.

Bronwyn, spying the piece of juicy lamb Ranulf was dangling in front of her, pushed his arm out of her view. “No more!” she pleaded. “And tell those still working in the kitchens to come out and join us. They should not be forced to labor while the rest of us enjoy the night.”

Ranulf extended a finger to the large arched windows. Bright light was poking over the horizon. “Night’s over. It’s nearly dawn,” he murmured as he bent his head to nibble on her neck.

“Father Morrell will be quite annoyed if everyone falls asleep during today’s sermon. Perhaps we should all retire.”

Almost too eagerly, Ranulf jumped to his feet. “Well, I think it is time to end the night—or morning.”

Bronwyn had just managed to thank everyone profusely and ensure them all that she would see them shortly before Ranulf decided she had been on her feet long enough. He swept her back into his arms and was about to proceed toward the door when she snuggled closer to his chest and purred into his ear, “Take me to bed.”

“Are you tired?”

Bronwyn bit her bottom lip and gave a quick shake of her head. “I should be, but I am not. All I could do for the past couple of days was sleep in that hole. I need you. My legs and arms need to feel you around them. Prove to me I am alive.”

A need unlike anything Ranulf had ever known surged through him. He hadn’t believed he could feel such conflicting emotions simultaneously. Ecstatic and desperate. Fulfilled yet barren with longing. The only coherent thought in his head was that the path from the Hall to the solar was too far and definitely too long and instead changed direction, heading for Bronwyn’s old bedchambers above the Hall.

Once inside her room, he kicked the door closed and walked over to place her carefully on the bed. Bronwyn immediately started to remove her clothes, but he stopped her and instead took over the task.

With each inch of skin he exposed, he placed a soft lingering kiss. He had intended to take his time and savor every minute of knowing she was alive and in his life, but the moment her shoulders were bare, his need for her became all consuming. Her own writhing form proved she, too, was unwilling to wait.

Briefly stepping from her side, he ripped off his own clothes before removing the rest of hers. Falling into her arms, she opened up to him, and unable to stop himself, he slammed inside her. Her body took control. She wrapped herself around him and met each thrust. He knew then that he was still alive. That God had not forsaken him. He was in truth blessed beyond comprehension.

He loved and was loved in return.

The noise of clattering pans and constant squabbling had been growing for the past hour and was now too loud to be ignored. Bronwyn had once told him that these bedchambers were not ones to be coveted and now he knew why. His solar was practically silent in comparison.

“Are you awake?” Bronwyn asked. She was nestled against his side with her arm strewn across his chest and was looking at him.

Ranulf grimaced. “How could I not be with all that racket? What
could
they be doing?”

Bronwyn flipped over to her back. “Preparing for the next feast, of course.”

“I had forgotten.”

Bronwyn gave him a playful nudge with her elbow. “Forgotten the Naming of Our Lord?”

“Yes. I along with everyone else, I might add. This place became a tomb without you here. No feasts, no activity. Without you, no one seemed to know what to do.”

“You did,” Bronwyn said quietly, fondling the covers. “I saw the battle, or at least enough to know you had one. How did you know it was Luc who trapped me?”

The tension in Ranulf instantly returned. “It was the only thing that made sense. But I wasn’t positive until I confronted him. Afterward I had no doubts. I saw the look in his eyes. There was pride in my grief, pride knowing he was the cause.”

“So you fought.”

“I fought and killed, and in the end, I realized it wouldn’t bring you back to me. You were gone and nothing—not even revenge—seemed worthwhile.”

Bronwyn swallowed. “Did Luc say anything before he died? Was he sorry? Or did he hate until the end?” she rambled, not wanting to ask, but needing to know.

“I didn’t kill him. He got away.”

Bronwyn pushed herself to a sitting position and looked down at Ranulf, her blue eyes intense. “Where did he go?”

“My guess is London.”

“But what about the truce? The king? What is going to happen to you?”

Ranulf threw his arm casually behind his head and replied, “Henry will definitely be angry. He takes loyalty seriously and has no qualms about razing castles of those who go against him.”

Ranulf’s lax attitude worried Bronwyn. “But the king knows you are not against him, that you are loyal.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t appear that way. I had no proof Craven tried to kill you when I attacked. And since I didn’t kill him, he is most likely on his way to tell Henry just how I acted outside of the law.”

Bronwyn’s shoulders sagged. “So Luc is going to get away with everything. When he locked me in that room, he had told me he was trapping you. Only later, after the fire and when I saw the battle, did I realize that my death was part of that trap. This was his intention all along. He needed me dead to force you into taking action. I wonder what Luc will do when he finds out that his plan didn’t work,” Bronwyn said, murmuring her thoughts aloud. Then looking down at Ranulf, she pointedly asked, “Since I am still alive, could King Henry give Syndlear to Luc?”

Ranulf returned her stare for several seconds before rising and donning his chainse and tunic nearly simultaneously. Surprised, Bronwyn just sat and watched. Ranulf’s mind had just leaped somewhere else and she wondered for a moment if he was even aware she was in the room.

Grabbing his leather belt, Ranulf looped it across his waist and strode toward the door. Just before he opened it, he pivoted, and asked, “Do you think your legs are strong enough to ride a horse?”

Bronwyn blinked at the unexpected request. “I think so.”

“It doesn’t matter. Pertinax can handle both of us on him if necessary. I’ll send someone to help you dress, and pack. We’re leaving immediately.”

As he swung the door open and proceeded out, Bronwyn realized he was serious. “But where are we going?”

Glancing back at her, he smiled a wicked smile. “Westminster.”

“Westminster! Now? What about the Feast of the Circumcision of Our Lord? I’m the First Footer! I can’t just leave.”

Ranulf came back in and gave her a comforting kiss on the forehead before placing a softer one on her lips.

“Unfortunately, that is one tradition we must break. So pack only what is necessary and don your warmest gown.”

Bronwyn’s heart started pounding as she realized just who Ranulf intended to see and confront. “What are you planning to do to Luc?”

But the question was issued to an empty corridor. Ranulf was gone, and the next time she was to see him, they would be riding out of Hunswick at a speed she wouldn’t understand for another three days.