Beguiled By The Forbidden Knight

‘I was sent,’ she admitted cautiously. ‘Why?’

‘I thought you might have been coming here to thank me for not revealing how we met. Is that why you came?’

‘No, I did not!’

He licked his lips and grinned.

‘Do many of the women here spend their time dancing around in fields and singing to themselves? It seems out of keeping with the devoutness of your choice of life.’

The girl paled and muttered something beneath her breath. Gui couldn’t be certain, but thought he heard the word choice.

‘I wonder if this frostbitten welcome is because of who I am,’ he pondered aloud, ‘or whether the same would be extended to any man who dared enter this female sanctuary.’

‘Sanctuary!’

The word exploded from the girl with the violence of an arrow loosed from a bow. She pushed herself from the stool, knocking it over in the process, and spun away from the table. She faced the slit of window, eyes turned towards it. The window was large enough to admit light into the cell, but high enough to prevent the occupant viewing the world beyond. Her hands were by her side as she craned her neck, her fingers curling and uncurling at her skirts.

She wore the same shapeless grey garment she had removed by the river that hid the figure Gui had so recently been enjoying remembering. The veil she wore masked her hair and acted as a frame for a pair of angular cheekbones and a shapely jaw, but was not as heavy or austere as that worn by the prioress or the nuns who had attended her. Her clothes were plain, but not the habit of a nun or sister so she had not yet taken holy orders, if she ever intended to. He imagined sliding his hand slowly beneath the unsightly garment, running his fingertips lightly up her slender body and easing it off her until she was clad only in the clinging shift she had worn in the river. He reeled. Blinked away the vision that had struck him so unexpectedly.

Careful to make no sound that might disturb her, but desperate to draw closer, Gui pushed himself from the stool and stood beside her. She flinched, shoulders tensing as she became aware of his presence, but did not shy away. Gui followed her gaze. He was taller than she, but even he was barely able to make out the courtyard beyond the window and nothing beyond the high wall.

He remembered the joy that had filled her voice as she sang and the carefree way she had danced along the riverbank. He stepped a little closer, turning so that he was standing opposite her. She faced him with the same obstinate manner that had been apparent when she had squared up to him in the river.

‘If this is a sanctuary, it is from men like you,’ the girl snarled. ‘Normans who brutalised the countryside at your King’s orders!’

Gui sighed. ‘I told you before, I come from Brittany, further to the south and indescribably more beautiful than the flat north coast that our King hails from.’

‘It’s all the same to me,’ she snapped. ‘Men are the same wherever they are from and who can tell the difference between men from whichever part of France when they are raping and slaughtering the English?’

‘I’ve never raped!’ Gui whipped back. Slaughter in battle he would admit to, but he had never been guilty of defilement.

‘I felt your—your body! In the river when you dragged me under the water.’

Despite his outrage at what amounted to an accusation of attempted violation, Gui felt a flicker of amusement. She was truly innocent if she thought that the slight swelling that had brushed against her was the sign of a man’s arousal! If the water hadn’t been so cold she’d have had a lot more to remark on. That was one part of his body he felt no shame over, at least. He was not going to let her barefaced slander go unchallenged, however.

‘What I was doing was bathing, as I’ve told you before, and I didn’t drag you under to grope you. Besides, what you felt was a natural response. Don’t flatter yourself that it has anything to do with your charms, child.’ He was lying. He’d dwelled on her charms enough since the glimpse of what she possessed. He hoped she couldn’t see that in his eyes.

‘I’m not a child. I’m almost twenty.’ She sounded indignant. ‘If I told them what you were doing when we met, do you think you would be allowed to stay here?’

Gui exhaled loudly. Remembering the desperation in her eyes when she had feared he might reveal where she had been, he knew it was an empty threat. He hardened his voice as he towered over her. Her eyes widened, but she did not step away.

‘Shall we go together and find the prioress? Tell her you were accosted by a naked man—Breton or Norman—as you were fishing dressed only in your shift and see what difference it would make. The outcome would be the same for you, I imagine.’

They watched each other, eyes locked in challenge. They were standing closer than they had been in the river. Much closer. He could smell the slight scent of lavender, which made him want to bury his face in the soft spot behind her ear to see if she was the source of it. The room seemed to grow hotter as the intensity of her gaze held him fast.

‘What would happen to you if I told the prioress?’ Gui asked. ‘You really didn’t want me to admit to having met you, did you? I think you weren’t supposed to be there.’

It was not a threat, but her eyelids flickered. Long and pale, her lashes framed those almost colourless eyes of watery blue. He remembered how he had considered she might be a simpleton when he first saw her, but her eyes blazed with a fierce intelligence that made him draw a sharp breath. She licked her lips nervously. They were wide and soft, made for kissing. He’d bedded women since coming to England, but he never kissed them, too conscious of his scarred lip. He wanted to kiss this sprite more than he’d wanted anything for a long time. Perhaps he should do it and risk the consequences. Let Gilbert return and find his bride for himself.

‘If you kiss me now, I won’t tell anyone how we met,’ he said daringly.

‘Why would I do that?’

Gui was pleased to note it was surprise rather than disgust that sang in her voice.

‘So you can say you kissed a dweorgar and lived to tell the tale.’

She covered her mouth to hide a smile, then quick as lightning lifted on to her tiptoes, put her hands on his shoulders and pecked at his cheek. He turned his head and their lips met. It did not last more than a couple of heartbeats, but their mouths melded together, her warm lips moving in unison with Gui’s and slightly parting with an eagerness that hinted at the promise of what she could offer. He sighed with longing when she broke away.

‘I have to go.’ She ducked past Gui and headed for the door. Gui followed, reluctant to see her leave, and rested his hand on the frame, barring her way.

‘Will you tell me your name before you leave?’ he asked.

‘And risk getting into trouble?’

Gui reached for her hand and held it, not tight enough to hurt, but firmly so that he commanded her full attention. He rested his thumb on the inside of her wrist. Without his glove on would he feel her pulse racing beneath the skin?

‘Let me go!’

‘I won’t tell anyone you did. I’m good at keeping secrets.’

She looked down at his hand holding her captive. With a sudden jerk of her whole body she twisted her arm, pulling away from him. She stepped back. He held on, stepping with her as she went backwards so that they were just as close. They might have been dancing rather than arguing. Slowly he uncurled his fingers far enough for the girl to slip her hand free. She stalked to the door, pausing as she got there to turn back.

‘That is the last time you’ll touch me. If you try it again, it will go badly for you.’

Gui inclined his head in a graceful bow as the girl hurled herself out of the cell, slamming the door behind her.

It was probably for the best. As much as he craved a further, deeper taste of those lips, tempting a novice into his bed would see him damned for certain.

It was only as Gui settled on to the straw mattress in the wooden pallet that it occurred to him the girl herself was the age of the woman he was searching for. He fell into a troubled sleep, hoping fervently she was not the one.

* * *

Aelfhild pressed her forehead and palms against the wall beside the door. Her second encounter with the strange man had been just as unsettling as the first and her heart pounded with the intensity of an army marching through her body. Her wrist tingled where his fingers had touched her, though it had not been painful at the time. The memory of his hand on hers caused her chest to tighten as though the breath was being squeezed from her ribcage. The sensation was disturbing, as much for the lack of distress it had caused her as the act itself.

She glanced to the high window, seeing light flicker as the occupant paced around the room obscuring the lamp. She half-expected him to follow and continue to wheedle information out of her about the identity of his bride. A small part of her hoped he would follow and demand another kiss, despite her insistence he should not do so. Relief fought with disappointment. Before either could win she stepped hastily away from the door, determined not to be found lingering.