Knight of Her Heart (Conquering the Heart) Page 19

  Curiosity bubbled inside Lisette as the knight halted his mount and swung athletically out of his saddle. A squire from Romsey immediately came forth to take the reins of the magnificent horse.

  After a quick glance around him, Richard removed his shining helmet and tucked it under his left arm. Their visitor was not completely at ease, Lisette noted, for his right hand remained close to the hilt of his sword.

  “Sir Richard.” Rowan stepped forward, partially obscuring Sir Richard from Lisette’s sight. “Welcome to Romsey Castle. I am Lord Rowan, Earl of Romsey.”

  Lisette shifted so she could observe all the interactions between the two half-brothers who met for the first time. Although she could not see Rowan’s reaction, she registered Richard’s guarded expression. She allowed herself to study the newcomer feature by feature as he stepped forward and clasped the hand Rowan offered.

  Almost the same height as Rowan, Richard had the same chiselled masculine features—the same firm jaw and high hewn cheekbones. Where Rowan’s eyes were deepest moss-green, Sir Richard’s were brown. About the same age, both brothers possessed a commanding, intimidating presence. Both were warriors, each silently taking the other’s measure in those first few moments of meeting.

  Then the strong column of Sir Richard’s throat worked up and down twice as though he struggled with his emotions.

  Lisette had to bite her lip to stop the tears from forming at the poignancy of the occasion. Whatever had brought Sir Richard to Romsey, ’twas clear that the momentous event of meeting his half-brother was not lost on the visiting knight. As Rowan had his back to her she was unable to observe whether he was similarly affected.

  Although she was unsure what character of man Richard was, and whether or not a bond of brotherhood could be forged between them, that two such noble warriors had been denied their kinship all these years rent at her heart.

  Finally, their hands unclasped.

  “I have heard much about your honour and bravery, Lord Rowan, and have long wanted to meet with you. ’Tis unfortunate that, because I have served King Henry closer to home on our northern borders, our paths have never crossed.”

  “I have heard of your fine service to our king,” Rowan replied, his deep voice steady. He turned toward Lisette. “Sir Richard, I honour you in introducing my wife, Lady Lisette, Countess of Romsey.”

  Richard stepped forward and took the hand she offered. He assessed her, before he drew her hand to his lips and bowed in respect.

  Despite Sir Richard being a man God had favoured with stunning good looks, Lisette knew not the slightest attraction to him. It reinforced to her just how strongly she had committed her love to her husband.

  “Come, Sir Richard. Let us speak in my solar.” Rowan offered his arm to Lisette. “My lady will join us.”

  ’Twasn’t a request of Sir Richard’s agreement but a statement of fact that Lisette would be a party to their conversation. Again she cheered inwardly at her inclusion, for she knew that Rowan was paying her great respect. Even Sir Richard seemed slightly taken aback that she would be present at their parley, but he masked his reaction quickly. The brothers spoke of inconsequential things as they walked inside and toward the staircase at the corner of the hall which led to Rowan’s solar.

  Once seated in the solar, Sir Richard’s manner became grave. “I have been sent by the Duke of Winchester to discuss your unprovoked attack on one of the villages under his protection.”

  Stunned by Sir Richard’s statement, Lisette sat forward on the edge of her chair. She’d not heard of a retaliatory strike being ordered by Rowan and could not believe for a second that Rowan was responsible for commanding such a vengeful attack against innocents.

  Rowan’s mask of impassivity slipped for just a moment before he drew himself up from where he had been seated. Without a word, he walked to a chest. Lisette expected him to open the chest, but he paused in front of it and turned back to his half-brother. “Tell me, Sir Richard, what makes the duke think I was responsible for an attack on his village?”

  “A knight was seen riding through the village shortly before the fire broke out. He wore a tunic which bore the crest of Romsey.”

  As shocking as the news was, Lisette judged that Sir Richard’s tone was not accusing or threatening—more just that he was stating the facts as they had presented.

  “A discarded Romsey banner was also found next to a quiver of arrows that had been dipped in oil,” Sir Richard continued. “Flaming arrows were used to start the fire.”

  “That news is most disturbing,” Rowan stated in equally serious tones. “You rode through Romsey. You would have witnessed the destruction that a fire caused to the dwellings on the main road.”

  “Aye,” Sir Richard agreed warily.

  “The fire was started just a couple of nights ago.” The Earl of Romsey uncrossed his arms, lifted the heavy lid on the oak chest and withdrew the torn banner of Winchester. “This was caught on a tree branch just south of Romsey. ’Twas found soon after the fire broke out.”

  The disbelief emanating from Sir Richard as he jumped to his feet was too stark to be feigned. Lisette deduced that both Rowan and the Duke of Winchester were innocent of the crimes that had been perpetrated against their respective villages. Some darker power must be involved here, toying with both of them while innocent people were harmed in the evil game.

  “The fire in Romsey was caused by a hail of burning arrows,” Rowan pressed on. “’Twas a full moon and one of the village men has sworn he saw an archer who wore the Winchester crest on his tunic.”

  “The Duke was not responsible for the attack on your village.” Sir Richard’s words were full of conviction and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  “Fear not, Sir Richard, I did not believe it to be so. Once I had accomplished further restoration to the village, I would have paid your father a visit to resolve this matter.” Rowan threw the torn banner back into the open chest as though the fabric was contaminated. “The news you bring—the suggestion that I have been in any way responsible for an attack on your father’s soil—makes it clear there is a third party involved.”

  Sir Richard nodded. “My father could not fathom why, if you held a grievance against him, you would choose to wait until this moment before you struck.”

  “I bear your father no ill-will.”

  “He regards you as a man of honour. He told me that if you held a grievance he would expect you to seek him out personally.”

  Rowan inclined his head. “For a man who does not know me, he judges me well.”

  “You are the king’s first knight. Tales of your honour and bravery are sung by every troubadour in the land and supported by men who have fought alongside you on the battlegrounds.”

  A rueful smile touched Rowan’s lips. “The troubadours are romantics, out to weave a riveting story that captures the attention of fair maidens and matrons alike. I am certain many of their tales are grossly exaggerated.”

  Lisette mentally refuted his humility. All she had witnessed in Rowan’s actions supported the man her husband was reputed to be.

  “The attacks on the villages were by order of a coward, and by one who fully intended to set the seats of Romsey and Winchester against each other. Can you think of anyone who bears you such malice?” Sir Richard pressed.

  “Aye. The attack was clearly personal and meant to cause friction between our two seats. You speak truth that only a vindictive coward would plot such an act.” With one hand he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His brow furrowed. “There is only one I can think of who would aim to use my personal connection with the house of Winchester to cause me grief.”

  “Malin of Baddesley,” Lisette whispered.

  Both men swung to where she was seated. It seemed to her that they had been so engrossed in their conversation they had forgotten her presence.

  Rowan crossed the room to stand by her side. Placing a hand on her uninjured shoulder, he told Sir Richard, “My lady is right. Malin is
the only individual I can think of who would conduct himself in this cowardly manner.”

  Sir Richard paced the room. His profile was almost identical to Rowan’s and right now the menacing expression he wore also reminded her of her formidable husband. “My father...” Winchester stopped and turned toward Rowan. “Our father despises Malin of Baddesley with a passion. He was outraged when he received the news of your mother’s murder and I believe, in part, he blamed himself for her death...for acting upon the infatuation they shared in their youth.”

  Rowan’s fingers tightened on Lisette’s shoulder, revealing his inner tension. “I have sworn revenge against Malin for the death of my mother and my step-father. King Henry has urged me to wait, but with this information I shall approach the king and ask that he grant me the right to arrest Malin.

  Moving forward, Sir Richard positioned himself so he could clasp Rowan’s shoulders.

  From where she was seated, Lisette could see absolute sincerity in Richard’s face.

  Deep sentiment underlined each word as Sir Richard said, “You have one half-brother who is your sworn enemy. I make a sacred oath that you have another half-brother who is your sworn ally.”

  Hesitating for only a second, Rowan stepped forward and embraced his brother heartily. “Your allegiance is reciprocated, brother.”

  Lisette could not stop her lip from trembling nor could she hold back the tears that gathered and spilt down her cheeks at the sight of the two brothers bonding. As strong as Rowan was, he would benefit from forging this closeness with his brother. The protective wall he kept around his emotions was tangible. She thought that Rowan carried a great deal of loneliness and hurt. ’Twas unsurprising given all he had been through, but this connection with the house of Winchester may help heal the scars on his soul. Ultimately, Rowan would be stronger and more whole if he weakened the wall that had kept those around him from getting too close. She had sensed only that morning at the breaking of their fast that Rowan had reinforced the mental barrier that was erected between them. One day she intended to claim victory for breaching that defensive wall.

  “I need to convey to you a personal message from our father.”

  Rowan nodded.

  “Our father asked me to tell you that he did not claim you as his son out of respect for your mother and her husband,” Sir Richard stated.

  Rowan inclined his head again. “I understand there was great respect between the two men.”

  “Aye. ’Tis what I have also been told.” Sir Richard agreed. “Rowan,” he hesitated, “when our father heard how your mother was murdered, he wanted to storm Baddesley and kill Malin himself. Although you did not know it, Father corresponded regularly with your uncle, Duke Devereux. Devereux told Father that ’twas your right to avenge your parents’ murders.”

  Rowan turned away and walked slowly toward a window. Lisette sensed that he turned in order to hide his reactions to this news.

  There was silence for a moment before Rowan said, “I did not know.”

  “When our father would have sponsored you for your knighthood, Devereux denied him that right. The Duke of Devereux wanted to honour his sister’s memory by having you under his protection. He also told our father that Baron Baddesley had been your father in all ways and that he did not believe you would take kindly at that point to father claiming you as his son.”

  Rowan turned back toward them and gave a grim smile of affirmation. “Devereux was right. His family was the only other family I knew. I arrived there shamed and bitterly angry. Had it not been for my sweet cousin Aveline, God rest her soul, I know not how, or if, I would have survived. I was on a course of self-destruction.”

  “Sir Richard,” Lisette stood, wiping her eyes. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to have you here. That such dreadful circumstances in our villages have led to such joyous personal outcome for you both is truly a blessing.”

  He bowed. “I am blessed now to be able to call Rowan brother, and you, Countess, my sister.”

  Overcome with emotion, Lisette knew she needed to take her leave of the men before she became a weeping mess at their feet. “I believe, Lord Rowan, that our stores are well stocked from your hunting trips and there may be a feast to prepare for our guests from Winchester?” she prompted.

  “Aye. A feast would be most fitting.”

  “Then there is much to be done. I pray you will excuse me while I hasten to see to it.”

  Sir Richard gave her a slight bow.

  Rowan came to her and brushed his lips against hers. ‘Do not tire yourself in your preparation, my lady. Have others do the bulk of the work at your command.’

  Leaning forward, she whispered, “As always, my lord, your wish is my command.’

  Rowan’s expression told her he didn’t believe it for a second. It also promised retribution for her cheeky remark.

  As she took her leave from the solar, happiness flowed through her as she heard Richard say, “Our father has followed all news of you closely and with much pride. If you are willing, he would be honoured to meet you.”

  There was only a slight hesitation before Rowan replied. “Aye. I am willing.”

  “I believe we should unite in our petition to the king to see justice done to Malin of Baddesley,” Richard urged. “He must pay for the damage he has wrought upon both our villages.”

  “I agree, brother. But we must present the king with proof of Malin’s involvement,” Rowan cautioned.

  That, Lisette thought, may be hard to do. However, with the combined resources of Rowan and Sir Richard, she was sure Malin of Baddesley would pay for his crimes at last. He was a fool to fill Rowan’s quiver with more arrows to fire against him.

  Chapter 14

  Climbing the stone staircase, Rowan made his way to the chamber he shared with his wife. This day was one he would long remember—for all the right reasons. ’Twas incredible that he had forged a bond so quickly with Sir Richard. For many years, in truth since he’d been driven from Baddesley, he’d kept people at a distance. Aveline had breached that distance.

  Rowan’s world was changing. Lisette had forged a close bond with him on all sorts of levels. Today he’d met and bonded with a brother.

  As the day had progressed and Sir Richard and some of his men had joined the knights of Romsey in their sword practice, Rowan’s respect for Sir Richard had grown steadily. His brother was a fine swordsman and he had asserted his strength and skill against the men he had trained with—without the need to show-off. Sir Richard was a man whose character Rowan had fast grown to respect.

  After Lisette had left the solar, the conversation had turned to more personal topics. Both he and Sir Richard regretted they had not enjoyed the closeness of brotherhood earlier. Richard was the only other son born to the Duke. Rowan’s other six half-siblings were females!

  Richard had confessed to being uncomfortable that he was the Duke’s legal heir by virtue that his birth had been legitimate, but Rowan had waived away the concern. Rowan had no need of the Duke’s title or of his wealth. His service to the king had earned him his wealth and his title in his own right and he assured Richard he was happier that way.

  Rowan paused outside the door to the chamber he would share again with his wife, now she was recovering from her injuries. Anticipation quickened his pulse rate at the thought of Lisette waiting for him. Despite the wilful streak in her which, he suspected, he would need to constantly rein in throughout their lives, she was a woman he was proud to call his wife. The feast she had organised tonight at such short notice had been fit for King Henry and his courtiers. There was nothing anybody could criticise about her dedication to all her duties as his chatelaine. This eve she had been the perfect hostess.

  Upon opening the door, he saw that a single beeswax candle burned in a holder on a chest by their bed. Its light cast soft shadows on her face as she lay in bed, propped up on a pillow, and waited for him. Her shoulders were bare above the bed linen. One bore a dark bruise from her injury, otherwis
e her skin had a healthy glow and was completely unblemished. That her shoulder had not been completely crushed was simply miraculous.

  “I hoped you’d come, my lord.”

  He closed and bolted the door before he moved toward her. “This is our chamber, Lisette. Your injuries have been the only thing keeping me away, for I would not wish to hurt either you or the child you carry.”

  He tracked the movement of her throat as she swallowed. “Provided you place no weight directly on the bruise on my shoulder, all will be well.”

  The smile that curved his lips was probably matched by a devilish glint in his eyes as he thought of all the possibilities for lovemaking that lay ahead this long night. In her naivety Lisette would have no idea of the direction of his thoughts. Nor did she appear to have any idea of the intoxicating picture of beauty she presented lying abed. Her allure enraptured him, made his blood flame and bewitched him completely. As impressive as the fare had been this eve, he had been more interested in feasting on her. He’d been beset by an all-consuming hunger which craved the primitive joining of his body with the sweetness of her flesh.

  “I wish to see all of your splendour, Lisette,” he rasped through thickened vocal cords. “Uncover yourself for me.”

  The rise and fall of her chest was shallow as her gaze locked with his. Her lush lips parted on a short, swift inhalation. “I am at your command, my lord.”

  Her hands edged the bed linen down slowly. ’Twas the cruellest yet sweetest torment he’d experienced. When she exposed the lush mounds of her breasts with their raspberry whorled tips, every drop of his life’s blood had surely drained south to pool in his loins. Such was the potency of her effect on him, his genitals swelled and pulsed in arousal.

  Mouth dry, his own breathing shallow, he could bear it no longer. Moving to kneel on the soft mattress beside her, Rowan bent to pay homage to first one and then the other tautly-budded nipple with his mouth. Nuzzling her warm flesh he smelled the delicious womanly scent of her and longed to taste her. His tongue darted out to the rosy tip of one of her nipples, revelling in the feel of her soft firm flesh. Flesh which would provide sustenance for the child she carried. Control of his more base needs was sorely tested as he whirled his tongue around the firmly beaded nipple and delivered light, teasing flicks while she trembled with reaction.