To Love an English Knight Page 4

  Chapter Seven

  Charles saw the pain flash across Freya’s face before he was consumed with the woman who clung to his neck. He knew Freya would take this situation the wrong way, not that he had to account for his actions. Did he not tell her he was through with her? Why not enjoy a short reprieve with a woman he had always been fond of? Why should it matter that Freya’s feelings were hurt. She would now get a taste of how it felt to have your expectations of someone fail.

  But in his heart, Charles knew Freya mattered no matter what he had told her in the heat of the moment. Yet, he refused to give in to the young woman who constantly challenged him. A little distance from Freya was all that was needed to clear his mind. Lady Livinia could be a welcoming distraction.

  Livinia kissed both his cheeks before hugging him again. He returned her embrace until he observed Freya’s hasty departure inside the keep. Pulling Livinia’s hands from around his neck, he held her at arm’s length.

  “You look well, my lady, despite the circumstances that bring you to England’s shores,” Charles murmured. “How long has it been since you have been to Wolverhampton and when we last met?”

  “Charles! We have been informal for more years than I can remember. Why the change?” She laughed before looping her hand through his arm.

  “Is your brother here?” he asked.

  “Of course. You must know we are here to pay our last respects to our dear, departed cousin.”

  “Then you know the reason for keeping our conversation formal, along with anything else between us, my lady.”

  “I never knew you to be so restrained, Charles,” she said, keeping their conversation light. “Roland is harmless.”

  A chuckle escaped Charles. Roland was as fierce a warrior as any of the de Wolfe kin, and harmless was not a term he would use for the man. “Better cautious than being struck down by your brother’s sword if I were to take liberties with his sister. Where is he?”

  She gave a casual wave of her hand. “Inside somewhere. I suppose he might be with Nicola. The poor woman is completely distraught, not that I blame her under the circumstances.” She shook her head. “Men die in battle all the time. But ’tis a tragedy to lose her boy so early in life.”

  “You do not mourn your cousin?” Charles asked as they entered the keep.

  “Of course I do, Charles. I suppose my heart is hardened after losing my father at such a young age and leaving my brother to raise me. Men and their stupid oath to die upon the field of honor. What honor is there to give your life to a cause for another to gain all the glory?”

  Charles gave her a small grin. “Spoken like a woman who does not understand why we go off to fight in the first place. But Lord Padraig hardly died in war, my dear.”

  “Nay! His party coming home from Caen was ambushed. Why they did not return home directly to Wolverhampton, we may never know. It took weeks for the one guardsman who survived the attack to make his way to the closest village to get help. By that time, nothing could be done to save them. Nicola barely arrived home alive,” Livinia fumed while tears formed in her eyes. A sob tore from her lips as though only now the reality of why she was here hit her.

  Charles pulled her into his arms while she buried her hands in her face against his chest. “Come now, Livinia… no more tears, I beg of you. You know I could never stand to see a woman cry.”

  She peeked up at him. “Me, or any woman?”

  Charles cleared his throat, feeling as though a trap snapped shut around his neck. “Any woman,” he answered before distancing himself once more from the lady. “We have only ever been friends, Livinia. Nothing more.”

  “I have always cared for you, Charles. Tell me you care for me, too,” she purred in a soft French accent. Her cheeks blushed with her confession.

  “As a friend…”

  “Surely more than just a friend,” she said, skimming a finger up and down the front of his tunic.

  He took hold of her hand. “Friend,” he repeated.

  She gave a heavy sigh before tossing her head back to stare once more at him. Her hair fell in soft curls to frame her lovely face. “I suppose you are still infatuated with my cousin. I would have thought her marriage to Lord Douglas would have stopped it.”

  “I never said I loved Lady Catherine.” He gulped, knowing how untrue those words were only several months ago.

  “Love? Who said anything about love? If your feelings for her were true, then I am surprised you did not wed her yourself.”

  “You know very well I was only the captain of her guard. Her brother would have never allowed our marriage,” he answered even while a knife twisted inside his gut. “Besides, she is happy.”

  “Are you happy, Charles?”

  “I suppose I am,” he said. His gaze naturally went across the great hall to find Freya.

  “I heard you had petitioned my cousin before his death to stay at Berwyck and remain in service to Catherine,” Livinia said, interrupting his thoughts of Freya. “Why you would want to stay in Scotland is beyond me.”

  “’Tis not so bad, and the clan has been welcoming.”

  Livinia took hold of his arm again before she leaned up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Who is she?”

  “Who?” he replied, knowing whom Livinia referred to.

  “The woman who looks like she would like nothing better than to put a dirk in my back.”

  He should have been prepared when he witnessed the dangerous glint in Freya’s eyes. Obviously, she was jealous of Livinia, and he supposed he could understand why. Livinia was a beautiful woman, much like Catherine.

  “Let me introduce you to Lord Douglas and his sister.”

  “How would it benefit me, Charles?”

  “She is your family—by marriage.”

  “That girl is in love with you, Charles.”

  “You are imagining things.”

  “Are you blind?” she asked.

  Perhaps he was… As they moved closer to Freya, he felt Livinia’s hand tremble on his arm.

  “No wonder she hates me,” she said so quietly, Charles had to bend down to hear her. “She thinks I am a rival for your affection.”

  “Nay, she does not.”

  “We shall have a wager, and I will prove to you how much she loves you. Let us see how jealous we can make her.”

  “’Tis not wise, Livinia,” Charles warned, but any further words he may have uttered stuck in his throat as Livinia released his arm and strode confidently up to Freya.

  “Lady Freya,” she called out. “At last we meet. ’Tis so nice to have extended family.”

  Freya appeared unprepared for such a welcoming, especially when Livinia enveloped her in a fierce hug. And when Livinia at last let Freya go, she began chattering about all the things she used to do with Charles and Catherine in their youth when she and her brother came to visit Wolverhampton.

  Caught between the two women, Charles could only stand there in silence, afraid they would fight for his affection. Perchance they would put him out of his misery. What had he gotten himself into?

  Chapter Eight

  Freya stabbed at the embroidery in her hands. Realizing the thread had become a tangled mess, she put the needle down and began to unravel the knot that had somehow formed in her furious attempts to stay busy and not think of Charles and that woman.

  Jealousy had gotten Freya into trouble with Charles before, and now it thwarted her attempts to win him back. First, his relationship with Lady Catherine had made Freya lose control. Now, ’twas Lady Livinia. If Freya did not know better, she would have thought the two had already pledged their troth to one another. The occasion for this gathering was hardly one to be celebrated, and yet Livinia acted as though they were not here to mourn the loss of her cousin and his son.

  “Roland! At last you decided to join us,” Livinia called to a man who came down the turret stairs and made his way into the great hall.

  Good heavens! Were all the de Wolfe’s born with such good lo
oks? ’Twas not hard to see they were all related since they had the same physical traits whether they were a man or woman. But Roland seemed excessively so. Tall and broad shouldered, his long, black hair swayed as he made his way toward the hearth. But ’twas his hazel eyes when they looked upon her that caused Freya to lose her breath. He gave her a smoldering look of appreciation before bowing before her.

  “And who do we have here?” he murmured with a slight French accent. Taking her hand, his lips lingered over her knuckles before kissing them. The warmth of his breath made her heart skip a beat. ’Twas nice to be appreciated by a handsome man even though Freya knew he would never win her heart.

  Catherine spoke before Freya could find her voice. “Roland, ’tis good to see you again. I know you have already met my husband earlier, but may I present his sister, Lady Freya of Berwyck. She has journeyed here with us to lend support to the family.”

  Freya gulped at the lie but was thankful Catherine allowed her to keep her secret. “’Tis a pleasure tae meet ye, Lord Roland,” she said with a small smile.

  Roland grinned as though he had won a prize. He continued to hold her hand. “The pleasure is mine, mademoiselle. We must share a trencher together at the evening meal so we may become better acquainted.”

  Freya stole a glance toward Douglas to see him scowling in her direction. Whether his ill mood was for her or the man who stood near her chair was hard to say. “Only if my brother allows it, my lord,” she said, knowing Douglas would expect such a response.

  Roland laughed and bowed again. “But of course he shall grant me permission. Is this not so, Lord Douglas? After all, we are family, are we not, mon ami?”

  Douglas took hold of his wife’s hand before giving his answer. “The pleasure of my sister’s company at the evening meal has already been given to Sir Charles. Mayhap another time, Lord Roland.”

  Her breath left her while her gaze traveled to the one man who owned her heart. He appeared as startled as Freya, and she instantly knew this was some ploy to keep Lord Roland away from her. This could work in her favor.

  “Oh, Charles!” Livinia pouted. “I so hoped to share a trencher with you this eve. We have so much to catch up on.”

  Freya’s brief moment of happiness fell at the woman’s words.

  Roland bent down to whisper in her ear. “My sister has been friends with Sir Charles for most of her life,” Roland murmured as though he knew her thoughts. His next words confirmed her emotions were visible for all to see. “If you care for him, you should speak up before Livinia puts her hooks into him.”

  Looking up, his amber eyes sparkled with mischief. This man could be dangerous to a maid. He was used to getting what he wanted, and apparently Freya held his interest enough for him to linger by her side.

  “Did I say I cared for him, Lord Roland?” she whispered before picking up her embroidery. She needed a distraction.

  A rumble of laughter caused her heart to flutter once more. “’Tis clear enough to see that you hold some affection for him. But if you say there is nothing between you, then you give me hope that we may spend time together while you are here.”

  “I hardly know ye, my lord.”

  “There is no better time than now to remedy such a fact, ma cherie.”

  His endearment was flattering but hardly appropriate. “My brother would never allow it.”

  “Shall we put that to the test, Lady Freya?” he said in a husky tone.

  “I think not,” she replied, but he ignored her and stood to his full height. Good heavens he was tall.

  “Lord Douglas…since I am deprived of your lovely sister’s company for the evening meal, mayhap you would allow me to accompany her in a short stroll outside.”

  Freya gazed upon Douglas, giving him what she hoped was a pleading stare to deny the request. He ignored her, the dolt!

  He waved them off. “I will allow it, but take Winifred with you as a chaperone.”

  Roland held out his hand for her to take, and Freya could hardly gainsay him. Her hand slid into his as he helped her from the chair. “Shall we, my lady?”

  He tucked her quaking hand into the crook of his elbow as they began making their way from the hall. Winifred followed several steps behind.

  “Ye are overly confident, my lord. Is this a de Wolfe practice?”

  He laughed, and this time his eyes twinkled in delight. “I saw an opportunity and took it. Is there anything wrong with enjoying the company of a lovely woman?”

  She gave him a small smile. “As long as that is all ye want from me, then a walk would be lovely. I am obliged tae adhere to my brother’s wishes as long as yer intentions are honorable.”

  “As a knight of the realm, you have my word I shall behave myself.”

  He appeared sincere, but Freya could only ponder how long such a vow would last. She could see for herself he was used to getting his way where women were concerned. With his handsome appearance, he could have any woman he wanted, but the question remained: what did he want with her?

  Chapter Nine

  Charles’s temper flared while he observed Roland’s hand wander down Freya’s waist and lower. He was ready to pull her away no matter that such an action would create a scene.

  “My brother seems to be interested in your little bird,” Livinia said in a quiet tone. “Do you suppose he will make an offer for her?”

  “Not if he cares to keep his hands,” Charles muttered before giving her a short bow. “Excuse me.”

  Livinia’s laughter echoed in the air when he left, but he gave her no further thought. Crossing the room, he made his way toward Roland and Freya. She seemed enamored with the de Wolfe knight.

  “Surely ye jest, my lord,” she laughed with sparkling eyes. She barely turned to acknowledge Charles when he came close.

  “I would not dare, Lady Freya. I was but a lad of eight summers and did not have much experience with horses at the time. I was showing off to a pretty serving girl, if I recall, and when I leapt onto the horse’s back, it took off across the field. I honestly thought the beast would drag me across England were it not for Padraig’s timely arrival and aid.”

  Freya laughed again before turning toward Charles. “Lord Roland was amusing me with childhood memories of his cousin,” she said with a bright smile. She nearly took his breath away with her radiance.

  He gave the other man a short nod before lifting his hand for Freya to take. “If you will excuse us, Lord Roland. The evening meal is about to begin.”

  “Of course,” Roland said before he performed a courtly bow. “I will look forward to conversing with you again, Lady Freya.”

  Freya bobbed a curtsey before taking Charles’s hand. He could feel it tremble when he placed it on his arm.

  “Ye do not care for Lord Roland,” she said as they made their way through the great hall.

  Charles gave her a short glance, but Freya only stared straight ahead as they traversed around tables and toward the dais. “What I do not care for is the way he looks at you.”

  “Why should it matter tae ye if he or any other man looks at me?” she said, tossing her head. “Ye have all but told me ye have…what did ye say? Oh, aye…that ye were washing yer hands of me. Surely after such an admission, ye have no say on who pays me the slightest bit of attention.”

  “You care for him?” he asked through clenched teeth. Why did it bother him so much if another was enamored with Freya? Because he still cared for the woman that was why!

  “He is handsome, like all those in the de Wolfe family. What is there not to admire?”

  “He is a warrior used to taking what he wants.”

  Freya shrugged. “He is pleasant tae converse with.”

  A low moan escaped his lips. “I am certain conversing is not all he has on his mind where you are concerned, little one.”

  She halted mid-stride, her mouth opened in surprise. Bloody hell! He let that endearment slip past his lips again. She bit her lower lip as though unsure if she should s
peak about whatever was now running through her mind. But all Charles could think of when he stared at those lips was to kiss her senseless.

  “Tell me the truth. Did ye ask Douglas for us tae share a trencher tonight?”

  “I will not lie to you Freya, but nay, I did not.”

  Her smile vanished before disappointment filled her eyes. “Are ye sorry ye have tae dine with me this eve?” she asked in a breathy whisper.

  “I was actually looking forward to this eve,” he replied honestly.

  Her eyes widened. “Ye were?”

  He raised her hand to his lips before placing a kiss upon her knuckles. “Aye. No matter what I may have said to you several days ago, I still care for you, Freya.” His answer must have pleased her, for her expression transformed to one of sheer happiness.

  He helped her into her chair before taking a seat next to her. Food began to arrive, and he put the choicest of meats on their trencher to share. Wine was poured, and she took a sip from her goblet before she turned her eyes upon him.

  “And what of Lady Livinia? The two of ye seem…close.”

  “She is a friend, Freya, nothing more.”

  “She wishes tae be more.”

  “She is but an old acquaintance.”

  Freya sighed. “A woman knows such things even if men are too blind tae see what is before them.”

  “You are speaking nonsense,” Charles said in a firm tone, hoping Freya would let the matter rest.

  “I willnae gainsay ye, Charles, but I know what I see. If she does not care for ye, then what is she up tae?” She took a bite of food and peered down the table to Livinia and Roland who raised his cup to Freya in a silent toast.

  What indeed? Charles thought, thinking of the wager Livinia continued to boast about. If Livinia told her brother to occupy Freya’s time to make Charles jealous, it was working.

  “Roland appears smitten with you,” Charles answered instead.