A Midsummer Knight's Kiss

He slipped between the curtains, clenching his jaw in exasperation at Rowenna’s assumption he had no plans of his own. He made his apologies for the intrusion and explained to Sir John that his cousin wished to address him. The old man listened, then gave a brief smile.

‘Your cousin? Bring her in, then, Master Danby. I should be happy to speak a few words to her as she has come so far at such a time.’

He settled himself upright in the high-backed chair while Robbie slipped out to beckon Rowenna.

‘He will see you. Be polite,’ he cautioned.

Rowenna gave him a withering look in response to his warning and declined to answer. She adjusted the ribbons on her cloak, which had come slightly askew, folded her hands neatly and followed behind Robbie, head bowed submissively.

‘M-may I have the honour to present my cousin Rowenna Danby, my lord?’

Sir John’s expression when displeased had been known to reduce a clumsy kitchen skivvy to tears from across the Great Hall. He fixed Rowenna with such a gaze, his gimlet eyes examining her from head to foot.

‘I believe you wish to speak to me regarding my squire.’

Like Robbie, Rowenna had grown up under the eye of Lady Danby and such attempts to intimidate her were sure to fail. He only hoped she would not speak as forthrightly as she used to when addressing Lady Danby—something that had landed her in trouble on many occasions.

To his relief—and slight surprise—Rowenna averted her gaze modestly and smoothly dropped into a deep curtsy with surprising elegance. She remained silent. Robbie glanced sideways and saw Sir John’s expression soften, filling with approval. He motioned Rowenna to rise with a quick shake of his hand.

‘I crave your pardon for the lateness of my visit, but my family are all eager to have my cousin with us again. It has been many years since we last saw him.’ She looked at Robbie and her smile deepened, causing the dimples to return. ‘Far too many years.’

Robbie smiled in return, his eyes meeting her dark-lashed pair. Surely they had not been that long when he had last seen her? He took her hand, fondness rushing through him.

‘Are you here to ask my permission to marry?’ Sir John asked.

‘To marry!’ Robbie exclaimed. A peal of laughter burst from Rowenna as if such a preposterous idea was the most amusing thing she had ever heard. She clasped her hand across her lips.

‘I… No… I merely wish to claim him for a night… We… For an evening!’

Rowenna stumbled over her words as though her tongue was as awkward and disobedient as Robbie’s and she had begun to blush as red as Sir John’s wine. Her eyes flickered to Robbie’s and widened. The two of them could once again have been children awaiting judgement from their parents. Robbie bit back a smile.

‘I have no intention of marrying yet,’ Rowenna added.

‘Good. A squire is in no position to wed.’ Sir John nodded at Robbie. ‘I would advise a man to have made a name for himself before he takes a wife.’

Robbie’s scalp prickled as he wondered if Sir John suspected his hopes towards Mary. Sir John addressed Rowenna once more.

‘Young woman, where is your attendant? You have brought a chaperone, I assume?’

Rowenna gazed on him with clear eyes. ‘Father planned to send the servant to ask, but I decided I would come instead.’

Sir John was stone-faced for what felt like a year. Then he chuckled. ‘Neatly ensuring I am in no position to make you return home unescorted. Very well. Robbie, you have my leave for a short while. Go visit your kin, but be warned, I expect you attending to your duties as usual tomorrow morning. If you hope for any success tomorrow, you will not be late to bed.’

Robbie wondered whether his lord meant success in the bohort—the games for squires to take part in—or with Mary. He was still pondering that when he bowed and took Rowenna’s arm to escort her from the alcove. He left her waiting in the outer room while he rushed two steps at a time to the bedroom and gathered his cloak and money scrip. Cecil and his companions were engrossed in their game of jacks and showed only mild interest in what he was doing. His inability to answer concisely worked in his favour as they returned to their game before he could explain.

He paused at the turn of the stairs and walked the bottom half slowly to give himself time to look at Rowenna. As a child she would have been scuffing her feet or twisting her ribbons into knots, but now she stood perfectly still, hands folded placidly and face serene as a marble statue in a cathedral. Only her eyes gave life to her, darting around the room and taking in everything that was happening.

She slipped her hand on to the arm he held out and they left the inn. A boy was sitting against the wall to the side of the door, his knees drawn up and his feet drumming a repetitive beat on the stones. He had a small brown puppy on a leash that began barking as soon as it spotted Rowenna, racing round in circles in a tangle of long hair.

‘Get up out of the mud, lazy-legs,’ Rowenna said cheerfully.

‘You brought him!’ the boy exclaimed, looking at Robbie in delight.

Before Robbie knew what was happening, the boy had hurled himself upright and barrelled into Robbie, flinging his arms about Robbie’s waist. Rowenna was smiling. Robbie raised his eyebrow.

‘You haven’t met my brother,’ she told him.

Robbie disentangled himself from the boy and held him back to examine him. The child bore the Danby black curls and had inherited his sister’s determined expression. This must be Ralf, the child Joanna had been carrying when Robbie had left Wharram.

‘I thought you said you had no escort,’ he said, narrowing his eyes at Rowenna.

‘A child is hardly a chaperone. Besides, if I had admitted he was here, your master might have sent me away empty-handed.’

She gave him a smile that radiated the innocence she had displayed to Sir John, but her eyes gleamed with a wickedness that made Robbie’s toes curl in a thrill of surprised delight. Before he could answer she drew up her hood and turned away.

‘Come on. Father will be worrying why we aren’t back. The city isn’t as safe as it used to be.’

She began walking swiftly ahead. Robbie threw his cloak over his shoulder, checked his sword was buckled securely at his side, Rowenna’s mention of safety setting his senses on edge. With Ralf clinging on to his arm and asking a dozen questions, he followed her into the city. It was only when he crossed in front of the passage that led to the stables that he remembered he had intended to write his poem to Mary. Just as in his childhood he had been swept up in Rowenna’s plans and had been as incapable of disobeying her as he would be the pull of the tide.

Chapter Three (#u8a221f53-8576-5ffb-9cd1-12f35aac2c86)

Rowenna glanced back over her shoulder. Robbie and Ralf were walking side by side a few paces behind. Ralf was looking up at Robbie with eyes already filled with hero worship even though Robbie was swathed in a plain green cloak that covered the blue-and-orange livery of Sir John’s household. When Robbie was knighted and dressed in finery or full ceremonial livery he would look even more attractive.

She stopped walking abruptly so that Robbie and Ralf nearly collided with her. Where had that description sprung into her mind from? She hadn’t meant to consider his looks, only his bearing and the fact that Ralf was obsessed with knights. Ralf was bombarding Robbie with questions about life in Sir John’s household, but giving him no time to answer any of them. His dark eyes were serious and he nodded politely. It occurred to her that he might have had other plans and that her arrival had not been welcome, but she had been so eager to see him again. The years apart had increased her fondness for him rather than diminished it.

She fell in beside them, with Ralf between her and Robbie, and gave him a furtive look from beneath her hood. A delicious fluttering filled her belly as she looked at him. The letters he had written to her had been packed full with details of his life, the places he had been and whom he had encountered. She had relished every one he sent, but nowhere had he mentioned how tall he had grown or how he had changed. In her mind he had been the same as when she had last seen him, only beginning to take a man’s form with legs and arms too graceless and long. He had grown into a man and a remarkably handsome one at that.

Very handsome!

Rowenna bit her lip to stop a smile spreading to her lips at what she saw and looked again. His hair was cut short in the fashionable style, barely grazing his angular jaw, which bore only the slightest hint of beard. Unlike the rest of their family he was not cursed with unruly curls, and his dark brown locks were smooth and thick, parting to one side.

Her eyes travelled further downward. He had grown taller still since she had last laid eyes on him, but from what she could tell, the rest of his body had filled out a little to compensate. If his arms were any indication, he would be toned and muscular all over.

Watching her brother impulsively throw his arms around Robbie’s lean frame, Rowenna had been filled with the almost uncontrollable urge to do the same. She recalled the awkward dance they had performed when they had greeted each other. Once she would have thought nothing of behaving in such a familiar manner as Ralf and hugging him. This Robbie was no longer the boy she had played rough and tumble with, but a grown man, and she was a woman now. The years apart had created a formality between them and to behave in such a forward manner would be unacceptable and unladylike.

Besides, when Rowenna thought of the word hug, a wayward part of her mind replaced it immediately with embrace and sent her thoughts running head over heels down unexpected paths. She burned inside with curiosity to see if the rest of Robbie’s body really was as firm and taut as the arm she had taken hold of. It was an outrageous thing to think of her old friend, but she could not suppress the way her blood grew hot as it raced through her veins.

Despite her wish to get safely home, she slowed her pace. Ralf was still talking, describing a joust he had seen and tugging on the leash in his hand in a way that caused the puppy to be tugged back.

‘Careful, you’ll hurt Simon’s neck. He’s only small still,’ she cautioned.

Hearing the name, Robbie grinned over Ralf’s head and his eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement.

‘Another Simon?’

Rowenna grinned back. Her mother had owned four dogs in succession and all had been called Simon. It seemed to be a private joke between her parents.

‘Mother says if something works she doesn’t see a reason to change it.’