Page 22 of Rogue Knight
“As I told you, my lady, you may call upon me anytime.”
In the dim light of the passage, his blue eyes appeared like pools of dark water, his lips curved in a seductive smile. Against her will, she was drawn to him, attracted to his courage and his kindness, no matter he was a Norman. When he smiled, as he did now, his chiseled jaw softened, along with the look in his eyes. Underneath his smile, she sensed there lay a man of unfailing strength and an iron resolve.
Her husband, Halden, had been a free-spirited adventurer who loved the sea. Sir Geoffroi was a steady river whose waters ran deep.
“I hope I will not need to ask you for aid in future,” she told him. Pulling her thoughts away from his eyes and his lips, she walked toward the twins’ chamber. Weariness settled into her bones, but she had to look in on them before she retired.
“Do you know if the sword-maker was among those fighting today?” he asked.
“I doubt it. Feigr may be a supplier of swords but as far as I know, he has yet to raise one against anyone, let alone a French knight. He is an artist, devoted to his craft and to his daughter. But after what happened to Inga, he may have a new use for his swords.” Even to her own ears the words sounded like an accusation. She was frustrated she had not been able to sink her blade into the flesh of the man responsible.
The knight was silent for a moment, then his gaze met hers. “I am sorry for what happened to your friend. Any of the Red Wolf’s knights would feel the same, but then Talisand is a very different place.”
“Talisand?” She could not recall hearing the name before.
“My home, two days’ ride west of here. ’Tis a very pleasant shire where both English and Normans live together in peace.”
“I cannot imagine it.”
“Given the violence you have witnessed, I can well understand.”
Reaching the twins’ chamber, she silently opened the door and peeked in, Sir Geoffroi looking over her shoulder. Magnus, who had followed them, padded in and sniffed at the children. Both slept, the white bandage around Ottar’s head clearly visible in the light of the glowing coals in the brazier. She tiptoed into the room and kissed each child. Retreating quietly to the open door where the knight stood, she waited for Magnus to join her and then pulled the door closed.
Sir Geoffroi scratched Magnus’ ears in a gesture that was oddly reminiscent of her father’s affection for the hound.
“’Tis good the children sleep,” she whispered.
“How is the lad?”
“He seems to be well. I have chided him for following after the men. I do not think he will be so foolish again. Not after he endured his sister’s tears. They are twins, you know.”
“Nay, I did not know but I did observe they were about the same age.”
The light in the narrow space in which they stood was dim and the knight was very close, his shoulders nearly spanning the corridor. When he dropped his gaze to her lips, without thinking she opened her mouth to expel a breath. Heat flowed between them. He wanted to kiss her, she could feel it. For a long moment, neither said a word.
“You are very beautiful, Emma. Be careful.” Then he clenched his jaw and turned, walking toward the stairs. She was amazed when Magnus followed him.
She did not move at first, but watched him walk away and felt a pain in her heart she had not felt in years. A remembered parting. The memory of saying goodbye to Halden the last day she would ever see him as he blithely stepped onto his ship and sailed away. Would she see Sir Geoffroi again? Did she want to? He was a Norman, after all, one who had killed some of her countrymen this very day. Yet he was an enemy who had shown her kindness. No other man had caused her to want again something she had once lost.
She and Halden had been young when they came to realize their love for each other. They had wanted to marry then, but her father had bid them wait. And they had. They were wed but a year when Halden died. A trader whose other loves were his ships and the sea, it had been those other loves that had taken him from her. When his ship was lost in a storm, she had been so distraught, she lost their babe she had only recently become aware was growing within her. Halden was her only love and she had thought not to wed again. With Ottar and Finna, she believed her life full. Now she had to wonder.
She followed the knight to the stairs. As she had once missed Halden, she would miss Sir Geoffroi and the sound of his knight’s spurs in her home. The realization was troubling. She hardly knew him.
Suddenly curious to know what his king would do in York, she asked, “What will happen now?”
He paused and looked over his shoulder. “William would have another castle.”
A sigh of frustration escaped her lips. She hated the wooden edifice that stood above the river at the south end of the city, a symbol of the hated Norman king. “A castle the people of York will no doubt be forced to build.”
He ignored her statement and paused at the top of the stairs. “Stay away from town for the next few days, Emma. William’s army will be seeking revenge for the death of FitzRichard and until they are gone, no woman will be safe.”
She thought of her friend lying hurt and defiled in the bed where she herself would sleep this night. “Your advice is well-taken.”
“In war, not many innocents are spared,” he said with a glance in her direction as he descended the stairs to where his men waited, the sound of his spurs on the steps ringing in her ears.
She watched them leave, wondering if she would see the blond knight again.
The Normans had just departed when a knock sounded. She unlatched the door, thinking it might be Sir Geoffroi returned but, instead, her father suddenly loomed before her, looking exasperated.
