His Fair Lady (9 page)

“I am not so fragile as you assume, Sir
Knight. I am accustomed to walking and will do so, as will most of
our companions.” She nodded to the sundry band of pilgrims,
tinkers, tradesmen, scholars, religious, and more as they assembled
at St. Martin’s tomb, on the city’s west side, preparing to depart
on the main road north.

Pivoting on her heel, Ana mentally closed
the matter and stalked gracelessly away to join the others. Against
her better judgment, she cast a glance back over her shoulder only
to find fire kindling in the knight’s eyes. She smiled inwardly,
taking a perverse pleasure in the knowledge she’d aroused his ire,
which, as a noble knight, he was bound to hold in check. ‘Twould be
unchivalrous to reproach a “lady” publicly, she mused.

Moving toward the back of what might loosely
be called the retinue’s line — a jumble of people, donkeys,
packhorses, carts, dogs, and crates of chickens — she released a
long sigh. The knight was entitled to be angry, she supposed. When
he failed to find a suitable horse for her to ride, he sold his
fine saddle for one of different design, fitted with a small
cushion at the back. It would allow her to ride behind him
“pillion,” as he called it. She was unsure how, exactly, one rode
pillion but she was certain she’d not like it.

“Hannibal will not harm you, if that is your
concern,” the knight called, breaking into her thoughts as he led
the beast forward by the reins and rejoined her. “You need not fear
his size. He favors you.”

Ana cast a skeptical glance over the
brutish stallion, then cocked her head to one side. “He
favors
me? How can you be sure? Did
he tell you as much?” she taunted.

The knight locked his gaze with hers. “I
warrant, you’d know if he did not.” He let the implication of his
statement hang between them, weighting the air.

Ana grew uncomfortable under his continued
stare and shifted her eyes toward the monstrous horse once more.
Hannibal looked like he would simply gobble up anything, or anyone,
he disliked. In truth, the beast did unnerve her, but that wasn’t
the reason she refused to ride. She’d ridden the full distance from
Chinon to Tours pressed against the knight’s chest, his arm
fastened securely around her. She could still feel the memory of
his steely hold on her — about her waist and beneath her
breasts.

She eyed the small cushion where she would
be expected to ride pillion. Presumably, in order to remain seated,
she would need to wrap her arms securely around the knight’s
middle. That would result in her breasts being pressed into his
back for the entirety of the journey. She had no desire to endure
such nearness, or intimacy, with the knight.

Then, too, there was the matter of the
mail hauberk he
wore beneath his surcoat. Her back
still prickled from where she’d leaned against it during her
journey here, the ringlets of iron overlaying the knight’s hardened
frame. Her backside had also suffered, and not a little, from the
long hours spent in the saddle.

Instinctively, her hand sought the abused
area and she rubbed at the soreness there. “‘Tis not your horse
that concerns me. I’ve had enough of riding for a time and much
prefer to walk.”

The movement of her hand drew the knight’s
gaze. Comprehension lit his eyes. Ana dropped her hand away
instantly and shifted her stance. ‘Twas a mistake, she realized at
once, for now, his eyes fixed on the curve of her backside then
slowly trailed upward. A tingling warmth passed through her.

“Very well, my lady.” The knight cleared a
roughness from his voice, one not present the moment before. “I
shall walk with you and give Hannibal his leisure for now.”

He raised steel-blue eyes to hers, sending
waves of unease cresting through her. Was she ever to be affected
so by the man’s slightest attention toward her? He merited her
scorn, not a blushing response.

“I am not your
lady
. And you needn’t trouble yourself on my
account. Ride if you wish.”

“I find I, too, prefer to walk,” he returned
genially — too genially — one side of his lip tilting upward in a
half smile.

Irritating man, she fumed silently. He knew
full well she had no choice but to endure his presence.

Within the hour the travelers set forth from
the city, heading north toward the duchy of Normandy. Tours had
reminded Ana greatly of Chinon, with its narrow streets and
half-timbered facades. Now, as with Chinon, the landscape outside
the city walls quickly gave way to forests thick with oak and
beech, opening from time to time onto luxuriant fields and
vineyards.

As the road wound once more through the
woodland, tiny, plump goldcrests swept overhead, twittering their
high-pitched “zee-zee-zee” as they disappeared into the forest’s
canopy, ablaze with the reds and golds of autumn.

Ana stole a glance at the knight as he
walked beside her,
matching his pace to hers. He
positively towered over her. She took in his mail hauberk and the
unsightly, head-conforming hood that encased his hair. His trim
beard and mustache were golden brown in color, and the bare
portions of his face — what little showed of it — were tanned as
though he’d labored long in the sun.

The knight’s eyes suddenly shifted to hers
and she quickly dropped her gaze away. Directing her attention
frontward over their assorted companions, she shored up her nerve
then blurted the question at the fore of her mind.

“How do you bear walking so long in your
armor? It looks to be heavy and uncomfortable. Must you always wear
it?”

“‘
Tis of little consequence and the
day is most pleasant.” He shrugged. “One must be ever prepared for
the dangers of the road.”

“Dangers?” Ana darted a glance along the
fringes of the forest. Finding nothing of concern, she settled her
eyes once more on the knight. “I know little of such things, though
I’ve heard tales of travelers’ plights. Since arriving in Chinon
many years ago, I’ve left its safety but once. My family traveled
to Samur on a matter concerning my foster father’s business.”

“Then consider your journey to England a
great adventure,” he said lightly, almost cheerfully.

Ana stiffened. Was the man callous? He’d
wreaked havoc on her life, preventing her marriage and stealing her
from those she loved and from all she knew.

“What holds the prospect of adventure to
you, Sir Knight, holds naught but heartbreak for me.”

He blinked over eyes lit with surprise.

She ignored the look and drew her mantle
close about her — a thin, unsubstantial shield between the knight
and her frayed emotions.

“This morning you said we will travel first
to Le Mans,” she remarked, changing the subject.

“Aye. First to Le Mans, then on to Rouen and
the coast at Boulogne. From there, we’ll cross the Channel and land
at Dover.”

Ana pressed her lips together. She’d
never sailed upon the water, nor seen
La
Manche
— the Channel — or any great body of water for
that matter.

“And what then will happen, once we land at
Dover?”

“Then we’ll seek the royal court, and I
shall deliver you into the keeping of Lord Gilbert, your
grandfather.”

“He is
not
my grandfather,” she said flatly.

“I have no doubt that he is.”

“Your lack of doubt matters not one whit,
Sir Knight. You shall be proven wrong and, by your own oath, you
shall be required to return me to Chinon. ‘Tis forgone.”

He looked down his perfectly straight nose
at her, at the same time hiking one brow high.

“You’ve a saucy tongue, one most unbecoming
a lady. ‘Twould be in your interest to harness that member before
you assume your place as a highborn maiden and heiress. A sharp
tongue could gain you unwelcome results.”

He pulled his gaze from hers to stare
straight ahead. “And my name is not Sir Knight. ‘Tis Sir Royce de
Warrene. You may address me as Sir Royce.”

Ana lifted her chin. “As you wish, Sir
Knight, but I am no lady and intend to prove it so.”

A small muscle twitched at the corner of his
eye as he glanced down at her. He regarded her with a narrow look.
“By your mouth and manners you have already succeeded, but by blood
you have not, as I’ve said before. Let us leave it at that.”

Ana flinched at his censure, his opinion
abundantly clear. Well, she’d wanted him to agree with her, had she
not? And he did. In his eyes, owing to her behavior, she was no
lady.

The thought rankled.

She cared not at all what he thought of her,
she told herself. Not one speck, crumb, or jot. Not at all. She
wished only to return to Chinon, to her foster parents and to
Gervase, the man who loved her. Still, her curiosity needled.

Seeing the knight had lengthened his stride
and pulled ahead of her with his massive horse, she quickened her
steps to catch up with him, falling in by his side.

“Tell me, Sir Knight, should Lord Gilbert
believe I am his lost granddaughter — not that I am, understand —
but should he believe so, what will befall me then?”

He skipped a glance to her then returned his
gaze ahead. “Why the very best things imaginable. He will recognize
you as his heiress and install you at Penhurst, his estate. No
doubt he’ll engage tutors to instruct you in the skills you lack
and will need as a lady of import, and then he will seek a match
for you.”

“A match?” she frowned.

“A husband. I know naught of Lord Gilbert’s
standing or the extent of his holdings or titles, but I am certain
he’ll seek a fine match to improve your station and his whilst he
lives. ‘Tis the way of things.”

Ana deepened her frown.

Seeing this, his own brows dipped. “Does
that trouble you?”

“What say shall I have in this match?” Ana
asked, fresh apprehensions clawing through her.

“What say need you have? Your grandfather
shall choose best for you. He has your interests at heart.”

“But he knows not my heart. I alone do. I
would have a say in the choice.”

The knight leveled her a patient, forbearing
look. “You may express your feelings toward a prospective
bridegroom, but your grandfather, being your guardian, will have
the sole and final word in the matter. You must trust in his
judgment.”

Ana rooted to the ground, her fists flying
to her hips, her arms bent akimbo.

“You mean, I am to have no voice in this? I
am expected to wait, utterly mute, as a complete stranger to me
makes a decision that will affect the rest of my life? That is
monstrous! ‘Tis known the way of nobility is different, but in
this, this . . .”

She tossed her hands skyward, anger and
indignation colliding in her, clogging her throat.

“I’ll be no one’s pawn, or puppet, or
cat’s-paw,” she spat out at last. “You castlefolk scorn those of
common stock, ‘tis well known. But be assured, we enjoy freedoms
far greater than your own. At least in this. I may have been raised
as no more than the daughter of a townsman, but as such I have
enjoyed a direct say in whom I would accept in marriage and who
would have rights to my person, to my-my body,” she blurted,
shaking now.

Ana wrapped her arms protectively around her
middle, having said far more than she’d intended, far more than
what was wise.

The knight studied her, his expression
perplexed. “I am sure your grandfather will consider your feelings
in the matter. I did not mean to indicate otherwise. But, he does
have the final decision.”

“And I must obey, even if I do not agree
with his choice?”

“Aye.”

She clenched her teeth, her temper mounting.
“And so a stranger, not even of this land — one claiming to be my
grandfather — will have the right to give me over to yet another
stranger as a bridal prize. And that stranger, in turn, will carry
me off to another, more distant place, filled with even more
strangers. Is that the way of it?”

“Lady Juliana,” he soothed in his rich
voice. “You will have a fine castle to oversee and servants—”

“I am not Juliana!” she flared, drawing the
attention of the others. She lowered her voice, though only
slightly. “I don’t want castles, or servants, or strange men to
take their pleasure upon my person or to tell me what I may and may
not do. I want my cooper, Gervase. He will love me and care for me,
even if humbly so.” She dashed away a traitorous tear, searing the
corner of her eye. “I’ll speak no more on it.”

Ana forced down the emotions that threatened
to overtake her. Struggling to compose herself, she inhaled deep of
the woodland’s cool, earthy scents and drew into herself, shattered
that — should she prove to be the lost heiress — she was destined
to be gifted to some faceless man, a prize trophy for his carnal
appetites, one to beget his heirs upon. His own requirements, of
course, would be based solely on his rank, power, and wealth. ‘Twas
what mattered most to nobles, all they truly understood.

Her foster mother’s description of the
sexual act seized Ana’s thoughts, preyed upon her fears. She
dreaded the prospect of such personal, physical invasion, of such
total possession of her body. And what if the man selected for her
was cruel? What if he abused her, beat her?

She’d chosen well in Gervase. He was a
gentle man with a pleasant humor, one who would treat her kindly in
all ways. He was also reliable and steadfast, a man she could
depend upon and work beside in life, aiding him in his cooping
business, loving him as his wife — partners, really. For all the
castles and finery and luxuries in the word, she’d not trade the
freedom she’d known these years — or Gervase — for any one of
them.