“If Lord Pitt discovers you’re conspiring against him in any way, he’ll make you suffer.” Sir Aldric’s brows slanted above eyes that were warm with concern. “I have no wish to see you suffer.”
The candlelight from the altar flickered across his features, highlighting the strength in his chin, the firmness of his mouth, the solidness of his jaw. “If you are concerned, then why do you not look at me or speak to me when we are in the great hall together?”
My question was completely off-topic and much too bold, but it was out before I could drag it back in.
His eyes registered a moment of surprise. “I keep to my place, my lady. I don’t wish to overstep the boundaries and set a poor example to the other knights under my command. If I promote a familiarity with you, then my men may imitate me.”
“Or they may not care.”
“I’ve already rebuked some of my men for speaking about you. And I have no desire for others to look at you and do the same.”
“Of what ill do they speak?”
“No ill.” His voice dropped a notch. “They speak only of your beauty.”
“Oh?” I watched his expression and attempted to decipher his thoughts. “Surely you would not judge them too harshly?”
His lips curled into a slight but rueful smile. “I would flog them if I could.”
At his admission, my own smile broke free, and a strange delight pooled in my belly. Was he jealous when the other men spoke of me or paid me attention?
“If you are punishing your men, then it must be because they are speaking falsehoods and imagining beauty where there is none. You are a cruel master.” I was unabashedly pushing him for a compliment, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
He took a step toward me so that he stood a mere handbreadth away. I was suddenly aware of the span of his broad chest, his clean musky scent, and the heat that emanated from his body.
Although he was taller, the intense glimmer in his eyes seemed to draw me upward and into him farther. The pull was irresistible. Every nerve sparked at his nearness, charged with the need for a connection with him. I waited for him to slip a hand around my back and pull me against him, or at the very least to caress my cheek.
But he initiated no move to touch me. Instead he made a languid pastime of studying my features, his breath echoing in the space between us.
“My lady,” he whispered, finally settling his sights upon my lips. “If my men speak falsehoods, it is only because they don’t do your beauty justice.”
The compliment was more than I ever could have dreamed or expected. And it left me too breathless to speak. I wanted to fall into his arms and have him sweep me up, but I was too overcome with pleasure to move.
Before I could give in to the desire to swoon against him, he broke our connection by pivoting and opening the door. In an instant, he’d retreated into the hallway. He bowed his head at me in a gesture of servitude. Then he turned and strode away.
I was helpless but to watch him, wanting to call him back but knowing with certainty that this man was not at my beckoning. I had thought to play with him, to coax him into flattering me. But he’d easily shown me, as he had every other time we’d interacted, he was the one in control and I wouldn’t be able to manipulate him.
I sagged against the doorframe, suddenly weak from the interaction with him. I clung to the cold stone to keep from collapsing.
For the first time in my life, I’d met a man who neither feared me nor bowed to my wishes. And I liked it.
Chapter
9
I spun in a semicircle arc, parried a counterattack, and then lunged, putting all my strength behind the next attack.
My opponent fell back a step, not expecting my heavy swing. I followed up my lunge with a series of continuous sharp blows against the other knight’s sword until at last he stumbled and fell backward. He landed on the ground, his sword spinning out of reach.
I pressed the tip of my blade at his gorget and held it there for several seconds. Then I broke away, sheathed my sword, and strode to the side of the corded-off fighting ring. Once there, I removed my helmet.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of my opponent rising and flexing his hand which was likely sore from my attack. He too removed his helmet, revealing the sweat that rolled down his forehead and cheeks.
The heat from the June afternoon had grown oppressive, even more so within the confines of our armor. The grit of dust mingled with my own perspiration, and I could taste the salt of it on my tongue.
“Well done, Windsor,” Pitt called from where he sat under a canopied pavilion in the shade while servants stirred a breeze by pumping large fans. “You remain our undefeated champion.”
I bowed in acknowledgement of his praise. The tournament had been ongoing for the past several days with knights coming from the surrounding lands to participate. I’d sincerely hoped the tournament would draw the Earl of Ulster, that among the throngs of other lords and ladies, he’d feel safer delivering the ransom to Pitt.
But with the tournament coming to a close, I’d resigned myself to the possibility that the earl wasn’t planning to ransom his daughters. That likelihood frightened me more than I cared to admit.
Though I refrained from glancing past Lady Glynnis to the bench where the lowliest of the ladies had been relegated, I knew Olivia was still sitting in the same spot next to Isabelle where she’d been before my fight had commenced.
She’d taken her place there whenever Lady Glynnis came out to the lists to watch the tournament. Although Olivia had done her best to remain a passive onlooker, I’d noticed the longing in her eyes to be one of the privileged allowed to fight. She watched each round with keen interest, following moves with practiced skill, her fingers twitching with the need for a sword.
Someone had foolishly indulged Olivia’s whims as a child by teaching her swordfighting. While I understood the benefit in learning self-defense, I saw no other reason for ladies to engage in physical combat. It was simply too dangerous. Even if Olivia was bored with the embroidery she was forced to do every day with Lady Glynnis, such work was much more suited to a lady.
“You’ll have the place of honor at the banquet this eve,” Pitt declared as he rose to his feet. “And you’ll choose one of the fair maidens to accompany you.” He swept his arm over the unmarried ladies who cooled themselves with elegantly decorated folding fans.
I swept a cursory glance over the women without seeing any of them. I had no desire to have a dinner companion, having no wish to mislead any of the young maidens into believing I was interested when I was not. But Pitt would insist as he had at past tournaments.
After one of my previous championships during the feasting, Pitt had encouraged me to take a wife from among the maidens. After much teasing and cajoling, I’d divulged to him that I had no desire or plans to wed again. Once had been enough for me. I’d failed in my efforts to love Giselle the way she’d needed. If I’d been a better husband, if I’d loved her the way she’d needed, then maybe she wouldn’t have died.
I wasn’t worthy of loving again. I was better off by myself.
Though Pitt was well aware of my feelings on the matter and now understood what had driven me into his debt, he still pushed women at me all too often. He was good-natured, even fatherly about it. He had no children of his own, only two married daughters from Lady Glynnis’s first husband. At twenty-two, I was half his age, the age of a son if he’d had one. Since he regarded me as a son, he’d designed to help me overcome my past whether or not I wanted his aid.