Hot Knights Read online

  “Then we will have to make do.”

  “Yes, sir.” Henry nodded eagerly, but the blank look in his eyes told Robert the man had not even a vague idea how to proceed.

  “Here.” He handed Henry the destrier’s reins. “Be kind enough to tend to my horse, and I will search out a spot where we may all rest this night.”

  “Oh, aye, sir. I’ll take right good care of yer ’orse, sir.” Henry heaved a great sigh, smiled, and left.

  Turning his gaze on the spot where the women tended Lady Juliana, Robert stripped off his wet shirt and donned the dry clothing. Too bad a soul could not be changed as easily as clothing. If such were possible, his life would be much different, and he would never have met Lady Juliana Verault.

  Chapter 2

  Juliana woke the next morning to the sound of cheering. Despite lingering aches, she hurried to rise and straighten her clothes, then rushed from the shelter to see what prompted the noise.

  Her heart leapt to her throat as she spied her knightly rescuer walking slowly along the remains of the bridge.

  On the far shore beyond the gap left by the fallen stonework stood a number of the male travelers who had crossed before the bridge fell. They busily knotted two coils of rope together.

  Above, the knight grasped one of the few remaining stone posts on the bridge rail and leaned forward over the broken edge. What was he doing? He would get himself killed. Knowing only that she had to stop him, she ran for the bridge.

  Henry stepped into her path, halting her beside a large boulder. “Nay, Sister Juliana. Sir Robert gave orders. I am not to let you onto the bridge,” the groom said.

  Juliana opened her mouth to object, then shut her lips firmly. From the far shore, men tossed one end of the linked ropes to the reckless, Sir Robert. Even if more of the bridge fell, he now had a chance of surviving. But could the men keep hold of the rope?

  She straightened her shoulders and plastered her most sympathetic expression on her face. “Henry, do you wish to receive your wages?”

  “Aye, sister.” He nodded eagerly.

  Across the water, the men took their end of the rope and tied it around one of the still-standing columns on the riverbank. That done, they returned to face Sir Robert.

  She forced herself to concentrate on Henry. “To earn those wages, perhaps you should follow the orders of the women who pay you, not those of some interfering knight.”

  Henry turned back to Juliana and swallowed. “Sir Robert says you will not be goin’ on to Palermo with the other Beguines, s-so you are not payin’ me wages no more.”

  “Sir Robert is wrong.”

  “He also said that I might not live long enough to enjoy any wages, if I was to let the king of England’s cousin set foot on that bridge. Are you truly Longshanks’s cousin, Sister Juliana?”

  “Yes, Henry. Longshanks is my cousin,” she replied with greater heat than she intended. She was very upset that Henry took a stranger’s orders over her own. However, her groom was not at fault.

  The guilty party strode in her direction from the bridge. When he reached the boulder, Sir Robert ran his end of the rope twice around the stone and tied off the line.

  Juliana nodded in reluctant approval. With a second rope looped around the first, Sir Robert had fashioned an efficient means for hauling a raft back and forth across the river. However, they had no raft.

  “Thank you, Henry.” Sir Robert approached them. “I hope you had no difficulty with the task I set you?”

  Though he spoke to the groom, the knight directed his darkling-green gaze at Juliana.

  “N-nay, Sir Robert. All went just as you said it would.”

  “Excellent. Go now, tend the mules and help Sisters Berthild and Gretle prepare to cross the river.”

  The groom left.

  Juliana wanted to shake the knight. How dare he order her servant about! She hid her irritation behind a serene smile. “A word with you, Sir Robert.”

  “I am at your service, milady.”

  Startled by his formal address, she blinked but kept her smile in place. Then she turned to walk along the shore. “I am but a humble Beguine. ’Tis no need to address me as if I were a noblewoman.”

  He grinned.

  A disturbing flutter curled low in her stomach. She blinked in wonder at her sudden and seeming insatiable hunger. She had not broken her fast yet, so she could be hungry.

  “Verily, you are Sister Juliana, as I heard your companions address you, but are you not also Lady Juliana Verault?”

  She stiffened and banished the odd stomach pangs from her thoughts. “I do not deny that I have that title, but I prefer to be known as Sister Juliana the Beguine. You must address me as such.”

  “I do not think that will be possible.”

  “Why?” She blinked.

  “You do not seem much like a sister to me.” His grin broadened, and that same stomach-curling look skimmed her body once more.

  “What I seem is not relevant.” She lifted the corners of her mouth to prove how little he affected her.

  “Relevant or not, I refuse to call you sister. Since I am a courteous man, I will call you Lady Juliana as befits the cousin of Edward Plantagenet.”

  “You are a stubborn man, and stubbornness is an unappealing trait,” she accused with good cheer.

  “Aye.”

  Aye? How am I supposed to deal with such resistance, especially when wrapped in such great size and strength? He reminded her of the bachelor knights she had known in her uncle William’s household. Men who thought to take advantage of her and her sister because their lord held his nieces in so little regard. Mayhap if she knew Sir Robert better, she might be able to circumvent his bullheadedness and retain her serenity. “Despite your attitude, we are cast together in a difficult situation, and I do not know more of you than your given name. I must insist you tell me from whence you come and how it is that you recognize me, for I am certain we have never met.”

  “I am Sir Robert Clarwyn, Baron Ravensmere.”

  “Oh,” she whispered. Shaken, she continued to smile. Even she had heard of Sir Robert. Though she did not know the details of the old scandal attached to the Clarwyn name, she did know that the offense had been so heinous, the Ravensmere lands had reverted to the crown. Sir Robert was a baron in name only; he had no wealth to go with the title. As a knight errant, he owed allegiance to the highest bidder. And because of the scandal, Sir Robert’s reputation was more violent than other mercenaries.

  “I see you have heard of me.”

  “You are one of King Edward’s hunters. The one the court calls the hound, for you have never failed to find any person my cousin sends you to seek.” How it was that Edward could hold the Clarwyn demesne and still command this man’s service? She wasn’t about to ask.

  “Aye.” He shrugged in a semblance of indifference.

  But Juliana saw the tension in his neck and shoulders. The man was far from relaxed.

  She brightened her smile to battle back the despair that threatened. She swallowed again, her throat suddenly more than dry. “And how is it you recognize me?”

  “I have been looking for you. I had word you were traveling with a caravan toward Palermo, and no other woman I have met has matched the description I was given.”

  Uncle William had called her a stick figure with straw and mud for hair. Was he still determined to force her to wed to his advantage? He could have asked Edward to send this knight in search of her, but she doubted that was the case. William guarded his own power as carefully as Edward guarded his, and would avoid any obligation to the king.

  “Why are you looking for me?”

  “Edward of England asked it of me.”

  She should have been relieved. But worry consumed any small relief. “What need has my royal cousin of me?”

  “I believe he wishes a union between yourself and a Scottish nobleman. The ceremony is set for All Saints’ Day. Edward wants you in England before then.”

  “But
what of . . . ?” She stopped in midsentence, not about to mention the betrothal she had broken or the injury she had given her aged future husband.

  “Of what, milady?”

  “Nothing. ’Tis not important.” She would not return to England, but that was a discussion for another day. More immediate problems remained unresolved.

  “What were you doing on the bridge?” she asked, presenting the illusion of calm.

  “Arranging for Sisters Berthild, Gretle, and the other pilgrims on this shore to cross the river and rejoin the caravan.”

  “Mean you for the women to swing across the river on these ropes you have strung? I trow my fellow sisters have not the strength and would drop like stones from the bridge, unless you intend to carry them.” She trilled a laugh to mask her fury at his thoughtlessness.

  “Nay, lady.” He took her arm and turned her to face the river. “As we speak, your fellow travelers send out a raft. We will use the ropes to pull it to and fro across the river. Berthild and Gretle will ride above the flood in as great safety and comfort as can be managed.”

  “Oh.” She felt her face heat. In her worry over Edward, she had misjudged Sir Robert. “That is most considerate of you. The journey has been hard on my fellow Beguines, and your efforts shorten their travail. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome.”

  Sir Robert by her side, she paced back toward where her friends waited. “’Tis a shame our guide was so badly injured.”

  “The man is a fool and got precisely what he deserved for crossing an unsound bridge.”

  She gave him a genuine smile; Sir Robert’s thoughts ran exactly as hers did. “All the more reason for us to pity him.”

  “Pity is needed for the caravan that is now without a guide, not for a feckless knight.”

  Could the guide’s mistake provide a solution to the problems of stubborn Sir Robert and aid for the other travelers? “Surely you will take his place as guide.”

  “Why would I do such a thing? My way lies in the opposite direction. As does your own,” Sir Robert snapped.

  “But you are a knight and sworn to aid those in need. The cross you wear is evidence of pilgrimage to Jerusalem and proves that you can find the way. None is as well-suited as you for the task of guide.” She used her most soothing tone. A little flattery never hurt when trying to persuade a man to act against his inclination. She smiled at him, just as she used to smile at her uncle. When she smiled, her uncle had forgotten to bluster. Sometimes he had forgotten to hit, as well.

  “My suitability is not at issue. I have an obligation to Edward to see you safe to England and his care. The caravan will have to do without a guide until they get to a town where one may be found.”

  “I cannot agree. As a knight, you must not ignore what Providence has placed in your path. The task of guiding us to Palermo is yours by virtue of your arrival just at the moment when our need of you would be greatest.”

  “Do you often succeed when you use nonsense to persuade others to do your will?”

  Admittedly, mere knighthood was not the most logical of arguments, but the criticism stung. She looked up at him to be certain of his meaning. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes might have been caused by the fact that he faced the sun, but the upward tilt of his lips and the green gleam coming from between those slitted lids suggested otherwise.

  “You laugh at me.”

  “Nay.” His eyes widened in feigned innocence. “I would never laugh at a lady.”

  “Would you not?” She arched a brow at him then turned back to where Henry, Cook, and the elder Beguines prepared for the river crossing. “’Tis of no moment, but your aid as guide to this caravan is of great import.”

  He stopped her with a touch on her uninjured shoulder. “Why?”

  “Because these are good people in need, and you have the skill and knowledge to fill that need.”

  He represented a threat to her life as a Beguine. However, she would deal with that after she got to Palermo, where she was needed.

  • • •

  She placed the situation before him in desperate simplicity. His vow to protect women weighed on him. Would ignoring the travelers’ need for a guide place all the women of this caravan in danger and threaten that vow? What of his promise to Edward to return Juliana to England before All Hallow’s?

  Edward would have to understand. There was time. Several months remained before All Saints’ Day.

  “Others have as much skill and knowledge,” he argued, reluctant to agree to her request, even knowing that he could not refuse.

  “But those others are not here, nor would we be able to trust them as easily.”

  “Trust is for fools.” Juliana’s smile soothed his harsh thoughts. A man might do much for that smile alone. If the man was fool enough to need smiles.

  “When the bridge fell, you could have let us fend for ourselves, but you gave aid without any thought to your own safety. You are a knight who saves lives, not one who allows death and danger to threaten innocents.”

  ’Twas obvious she had no knowledge of the lives he had failed to save. Enthusiasm flooded her cheeks with color and took his breath away. He wanted to please her. Wanted to keep her smile for himself. That would never happen. She belonged to another man. His vow to Edward and the lure of regained lands pulled him to England. How could he go elsewhere?

  “I made a promise to Edward.” He spoke sternly, refusing the inevitable. “Neither you nor I can proceed to Palermo.”

  “Yes, yes, I hear you.” She waved an impatient hand at him as she stepped toward her Beguine sisters. “Edward wants me to wed a Scot. Nonetheless, we must get Berthild and Gretle to Palermo, not England.”

  Robert strode after her, determined to make clear that she had no choice in the matter. “Edward is your king. You must follow his orders.”

  “Nay, I must follow my conscience. I do not use my title or the privilege that comes with it, and I owe nothing to any earthly king.”

  “I could force you.” He nearly shouted the words to hide the reluctance he felt in saying them. Physical force was not an option when women were involved. She stopped and turned so abruptly that he had to grab her around the waist. He lifted her and held her close against his chest in order to avoid trampling her or hurting her shoulder.

  “Put me down.”

  The words were soft but firm. He set her at arm’s length, glad to be rid of her, because her body felt entirely too right pressed to his.

  “You could indeed try to force me. I assure you that you would regret the choice, for I would make your life a misery.” She smiled sweetly.

  He nearly laughed.

  “’Tis not possible. You are too gentle to make any man’s life a misery.” Though he knew differently. He had seen her strength of will and determination in a dozen small actions over the past day, as well as her selfless rescue of a drowning boy. Willpower frightened Robert. No wonder Edward wanted this woman married to one of the unruly Scots. Her very smile hid an English rock upon which the Scot would break his barbarian heart. ’Tis a good thing I have no heart to break.

  Her smile broadened. “If you think that, you should have a long talk with my uncle William.” She turned on her heel and jounced down the hill, calling to Berthild not to lift a heavy pack by herself.

  Robert shook his head and set off in pursuit of Juliana once again. He caught up with her just as she struggled with Berthild to raise a pack of sodden wool lengths onto a mule.

  “Allow me.” He hooked a hand under each of the leather bindings and with one heave thumped the pack onto the back of the nearest mule.

  “Oh my.” Berthild’s gray lashes fluttered. “You are very strong.”

  Not knowing what to say, he grunted.

  “Will you be guiding us to Palermo?” asked the older woman.

  “Nay. I have other obligations.” He gave Juliana a warning look.

  “What would be the harm in journeying with us as far as Palermo?” Juliana as
ked, honey dripping from her tone.

  “Would you return with me to England, if I guide your band that far?”

  “I would be a most cooperative traveler.”

  ’Twas nothing like the promise he asked for. He ground his teeth on the frustration that ate at him. He could not risk laying hands on her. Nor could he deny the other travelers’ needs. His temper rose at her granite cheer.

  “Indeed, Sir Robert. Our need is severe.” Gretle approached, adding her plea to those of the other women.

  They could not possibly be as desperate as they claimed. “Surely another of your party has been to Palermo before?”

  “Oh no,” Berthild spoke up. “One of the reasons our company hired our now-injured guide is his vast experience. None of us, not even the merchants, have ever been farther than Gascony. We are all novice travelers.”

  Incredible! He looked at Juliana, who stood waiting, that perpetually serene smile on her face. Why he longed to shatter her solid calm he did not know.

  Did she expect him to simply give up? To desert both her and his sworn duty? She did not know him very well, so he would make certain she learned differently. He might be guilty of all sorts of sin, but he did not give up. Honor demanded that he take her to England. His conscience and sworn oaths prevented him from forcing her. If guiding these people to Palermo would gain her cooperation, that was what he would do.

  Not for the first time did he regret accepting this task from Edward. Robert had too many reasons not to hunt women. But the king had made the rewards more than attractive. Restoration of the Clarwyn demesne would change much in the eyes of the court. More importantly, regaining his family’s lands would give Robert a retreat from gossip, if not from guilt and shame.

  Watching Juliana from the corner of his eye, he addressed the two older women. “I would be honored to guide your journey to Palermo.”

  “That is wonderful, indeed.” Gretle clutched his arm. Delight shone from her eyes.

  Juliana’s placid expression brightened. “I knew you would do the right thing,” she murmured as she passed by him.

  He had failed to dent her serene armor. Worse, he had committed himself to a troublesome and unnecessary journey to Palermo. How had she done it? Without saying a word, Juliana had somehow bent his will to hers, and he had not even gotten her clear promise to return to England.