The Dark Knight (20 page)

She was even more astonished when another voice answered, the voice of a child.

“Sì, mio padrone.”

Avalene followed the direction of Percival’s gaze and caught a glimpse of a foreign-looking boy with dark brown hair and honey-colored skin. Long willow branches lay over his shoulders like a woman’s hair, as if he had just pushed through them. He wore strange garb and seemed very thin, and he held something in his hands that might have been a tray of food. He bowed and backed his way out of their sanctuary through the trailing canopy of willow
branches. For a moment they both remained frozen in place.

“That boy saw me naked.” She pushed against Percival’s chest to get him off her so she could put her clothing to rights, and was grateful when he released her.

“He did not see you naked,” Percival said, even as he rolled off her and picked up his shirt. Despite her agitation, she could not help but watch him. Powerful muscles stood out in hard lines along his shoulders and arms, flexing in fascinating ways as he put his shirt back on. “I suspect Rami got an eyeful, but I doubt it will cause him any lasting damage.”

Her hands stilled on her laces. “You think my humiliation is cause for humor?”

“Nay, I think it fortunate that Rami interrupted us when he did.” He looked at her over his shoulder and his lips curved upward in a grin, his expression so unexpected and so disarming that she felt her breath catch. “You are entirely too tempting in the morning, my lady.”

She didn’t know what to make of his lighthearted mood. “Are you … are you going to blame me again for those kisses?”

He shook his head. “I knew full well what I was about.”

“I should say so,” she grumbled.

That broadened his smile. “Still, I went further than intended. You have my apologies, my lady.”

Percival rummaged through their saddlebags and found her rucksack as she tried to work a knot free in the laces of her surcoat. Rather than give the sack to her, he sat down and began to search through its contents.

“This is much less than I imagined you would try to bring along.” He handed her a comb from the bag, and continued digging. “An extra chemise, stockings, a
comb, hairpins, ribbons, needles, threads … what is this? Ah, never mind. ’Tis a clever little mirror.”

She had never seen him so at ease in her company. Usually there was an underlying element of tension between them, as if he were constantly on guard. She almost hated to ruin his mood. “Why did you speak Italian to that boy?”

Percival stilled for a moment, then went back to his exploration of the rucksack. “He understands only Arabic and Italian. Where did you learn to speak Italian?”

“Merchants. Italian merchants,” she clarified. “Where did you learn the language? And where did that boy come from?”

“Rami is newly arrived from Italy and does not yet speak more than a few words of French and English,” he said. “Fortunately for Rami, I learned to speak Italian when I was a child, and there was an Italian knight in your father’s service who helped polish my skills with the language. The men who are with me also know the language.” His mouth turned downward as he continued to riffle through her belongings. “Where did you encounter Italian merchants, and how is it you were allowed in their company long enough to learn their language?”

Despite his casual tone, she felt certain he was focused entirely on her answer. She could understand his concern. All Italian men had a certain reputation when it came to women, an almost instinctive power to seduce them. Even the youngest apprentices had a way of focusing all of their attention on a female that made them hard to resist. “The merchants seek lodging at Coleway each year on their journey between the fairs at Shrewsbury and Chester. Their parties stay at Coleway for at least a fortnight.”

One dark brow rose. “You were allowed to associate with these men?”

“Only in the great hall or common areas,” she said, “and only when my aunt or Lord Brunor were present.”

His curt nod indicated acceptance of her answer, but his continued silence encouraged an explanation.

“I spent little time with the merchants since I could ill afford their wares, but their apprentices often carried trinkets that they would barter for the veils I embroidered.” She would not admit that she was just as flattered as every other woman at Coleway by the attentions of their intriguing visitors. She recognized early on that the Italians enjoyed all women and she was nothing special. “I learned a few words of Italian by bargaining with the apprentices.”

“It seems you learned enough to understand what I said.”

It was more question than comment and she dutifully answered. “I have a talent for learning languages, although I have not had much occasion to practice my Italian. Perhaps I can learn more from the boy, Rami. Who is he, by the way? A page? Your servant?”

“He was a slave, a recent acquisition of mine from a cruel master. I do not like to see children abused.” He slid apart the two halves that protected the polished surface of her mirror, then tilted the metal disk this way and that as if he were intrigued by the way the light reflected off its surface. “An Italian merchant owned Rami, perhaps one of the very merchants who visited Coleway. Rami still looks painfully thin because his master was slowly starving him to death. In a moment of weakness I decided to purchase him. I have little use for the boy and offered him his freedom, but he refuses to leave. He tries hard to please. Ofttimes he tries too hard.”

And that was how she learned Sir Percival was a true knight and hero. She couldn’t name one knight at Coleway who would have bothered himself to save a heathen child in such straits. There was a soft heart beneath Percival’s forbidding exterior, another unexpected surprise.

“That was very good of you to rescue the boy,” she said. “ ’Tis little wonder he wants to please you.”

He made a noncommittal sound and brushed her concern aside. “Our breakfast still awaits us, and then we must be on the road again. ’Tis already well past dawn.”

The thought of leaving their lair made her feel suddenly awkward. They had been moments away from being entirely naked and spied upon by a little boy. In a field. With God only knew how many other people about. She was not acting like herself, but Percival had no way of knowing this was out of character for her.

“There is something I must tell you,” she blurted out. The sudden intensity in his eyes was disturbing enough to make her grasp for words. “I do not—that is, I am not—I have never before been so free with my favors!”

The look in his eyes intensified, but he remained silent.

“Given my actions last night and this morn I would no longer blame you if you thought I was some sort of harlot. I do not know what came over me. I never act this way. Something is wrong with me.”

The corners of his mouth turned up again. “Aye, there is definitely something wrong with you. Many things, as a matter of fact.”

Many?
She could guess at a few, but what more did he find wrong with her? Apparently the confusion showed in her expression.

“ ’Tis not such a mystery,” he said in a kind voice. “You are fleeing from an unscrupulous steward who would force you into a dishonorable marriage with the
help of your aunt. You are in the middle of the wilderness with a man you barely know and without a chaperone. We are both aware of the attraction between us and we both know this is perhaps the only situation in which we are not bound by any rules. Few young women ever find themselves in such a predicament. I would be worried if you felt perfectly yourself under these circumstances.”

“I—I appreciate that you have treated me with honor,” she said in a quiet voice. “Many other knights would not behave as nobly as you have.”

He took her hands and pressed his thumbs into the centers of her palms in gentle, soothing motions that should have been calming, but instead felt incredibly wicked. “I have never wanted nor needed to force myself upon a woman to gain her favor. If you decide to find me repulsive, then you need not worry that I will take you against your will. If you continue to find our interludes as pleasant as I do, then I suspect you will lose your innocence before this journey ends. Normally I am a patient man. I would prefer to wait until we reach a soft bed with no worry of being overtaken by a search party, but our time is limited and I wish to enjoy every moment with you to its fullest. If you waken me the same way each morn, ’tis possible I may not wait until we reach London to make you mine.”

Her cheeks warmed over the way he said
make you mine
. “What we are doing, what we will do is sinful.”

“Is it?” he asked. “Our bodies recognize that we are well matched, even if our minds rebel against the idea. We are in a moment out of time. You are not pledged to any man but me and I am pledged to no other woman. Life is an uncertain thing, Avalene. Events in the future will likely separate us, but no man or woman knows if God will bless them with a future. Our path is uncertain.
Today is all that is sure. We can live for just these moments as if we were pledged to each other. Indeed, we actually are pledged to each other in a sense. I am your knight. You are my lady. Time is all that can change those facts, but time is not yet our enemy.”

His logic sounded so reasonable that she wondered if he had practiced the speech. It was certainly persuasive.

“This is all happening so quickly,” she said. “I did not expect to find myself in such a position … ever. Suddenly I am supposed to disregard every tenet that I have lived by all my life?” She shook her head. “I should resist everything about you that I find irresistible. Just the touch of your hand upon mine is enough to make me forget myself. But then another voice inside me says this is wrong, the same voice that cannot believe I let you unlace my gown and chemise as if I were a common strumpet. I am not that kind of woman, and yet … somehow I am.”

“I suspect you will discover many surprising things about yourself on this journey,” he said. His gaze dropped to their joined hands and he released his hold on her as if he had been unaware of the contact. “For the first and perhaps the only time in your life, you are free to act upon impulse.”

“I cannot bring myself to think it is right.” She laid her hand upon his arm and it seemed a reflexive gesture when he covered her hand with his own. “At other times, there is nothing about this that feels wrong. Can you give me a little time to sort through my feelings? Truly, I am not so impulsive a person as I have acted since we met. I need time to come to terms with everything that has happened, and decide how to move forward.”

“Are you asking for my permission, or do you seek permission from yourself?” His words were harsh, but
the look in his eyes was gentle, understanding. “I will not blame you again for our intimacies, but you must admit that you have a hand in bringing them about. I am not a monk, my lady. If you tempt me, I will respond. If you hold yourself apart, I will respect the distance you put between us. However, I am not above plying temptations of my own. That is the best I can promise.”

“ ’Tis a fair bargain.” She forced herself to take her hand from his arm, and then released a small sigh. “I shall try my best not to tempt either of us until I can think clearly again and decide what is the best course.”

“I trust you will let me know when that momentous decision comes about.” He surprised her by catching her hand and turning it over to place a brief yet sensuous kiss in her palm. “Right now, I am famished and in need of sustenance. Let us break our fast, and then you will have all day to think over your decisions before we stop again for the night. Just be aware that I intend to sleep with you every night until we reach London.” His smile grew wider. “For your protection, of course.”

This was turning into a more interesting and enjoyable interlude than Dante could have possibly imagined. To think he had been opposed to the plan! Without it he would likely be sitting in the squalid heat of London to await his summons from the Council, bored and restless, his thoughts dwelling impotently upon what awaited him in Venice. Instead he had this last chance to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine of the English countryside, with the distraction of a beautiful woman on his arm. A beautiful, willing woman, he corrected, as his gaze slid over her.

Avalene was busy putting everything back into the rucksack that he had unpacked, her movements elegant and economical, her attention focused completely on the task. He had never encountered a woman so beautiful who was so completely unaware of her looks. Nothing in her manner indicated that she thought herself out of the ordinary, and yet she was stunning, a treasure that had awaited his discovery. Last night he had staked his claim on that treasure.

Although their kisses were meant to be a distraction from her chilling discovery that she could sense his lies, the distraction worked in ways he hadn’t intended. One taste of her emptied every rational thought in his head. It was not until she called him “Percival” that he finally came to his senses and realized she had neatly turned the tables. His clever ruse to drive her away by insulting her with accusations of seduction and then crudely suggesting an affair were also miscalculated, but he had hardly been thinking straight. He wanted her, and at the same time, he wanted to keep her safe. How could he protect her from himself?