Chapter 8
The first evening, they halted in a village Angelet had heard of but had never been to.
The inn there was quite acceptable, and the innkeeper was familiar with Otto and Dryton, so Angelet was given the best room.
She would have been even more pleased, except that the sour-faced Bethany would share it with her, to preserve her honor.
Rafe came up to them and pointed to a small pyramid of sacks and boxes. “Bethany, those items all go up to the lady’s chamber. You should be able to take care of it in three or four trips.”
Surprisingly, Bethany nodded and went to work.
Angelet was happy…then she noticed the chest of gold. “What are you doing with that, Sir Rafe?”
“It’s also going in your room, my lady.”
“Must it?” she asked, as Simon and one of the Dryton guards wrestled it upstairs.
“Tactical decision. Both you and the maid will be near, and I’ll see that guards are within earshot of the room. Someone will always be awake.”
“Would a thief actually try to come into my room?”
“It’s a risk,” Rafe said. “But better that the gold is inside, instead of left in the carts.”
“If you think it best.” She looked up the stairs, then felt Rafe touch her arm.
“I promise you’ll be safe.”
She nodded, feeling a little better. He was the Knight of the Raven after all, undefeated in all the contests he entered. Otto would have hired the best.
They ate well that night, since the inn was a prosperous one and Angelet was a better class of guest than most. She had thinly sliced beef in a sauce rich with the taste of red wine, which soaked into her trencher, turning the hard bread into a very satisfying course.
However, despite the meal, or perhaps because of it, she felt rather restless.
She stood up, only to find that Rafe stood too. “My lady?”
“I was cooped up all day in that rolling box. I need to move. I’ll take a walk through the town. Bethany can come.”
“Yes, my lady,” the maid said quickly enough. Her earlier pique was gone. In truth, Bethany was perfectly good at all the skills a maid should be good at. Her changeable moods created all the problems.
Rafe shook his head. “You may take a walk, my lady, but the maid can stay here. I’ll escort you.” He put a hand meaningfully on the hilt of his sword.
Angelet said, “Surely I’m not in danger in a village a day’s ride from Dryton?”
“You won’t be in danger if you’ve got a soldier as escort.”
The daylight was waning when Angelet stepped out of the inn, followed by Rafe.
The feeling of being guarded was novel. She had never been considered important enough to guard before, beyond the usual restrictions imposed on all women of her birth.
She would have expected it to annoy her—being constantly under someone’s view.
But in fact it felt comforting to have Rafe near her, perhaps because she was certain that no one would dare harm her while he had that sword strapped to his side.
Or just perhaps because he was a pleasure to look at.
Any woman would be pleased to have such a man walking by her, wouldn’t she?
The town was compactly built, with the slightly taller buildings all huddled up together along the main road, so that the sky above was just a narrow strip of clear purple, like a silk ribbon.
Warm, gold light from candles and cooking fires shone out of windows and doors, thanks to the mild weather.
Angelet hummed to herself as she peeked into the lives of these strangers.
She saw families of all types. There were young couples chasing after little wild things pretending to be children—the shouts of the boys made her smile.
There were fat, content older couples who lived more quiet lives.
There were merchants and laborers, apprentices and traders. But no ladies like her.
A sudden feeling of intense loneliness assailed her, and when she saw an open field with a pond on the other side, she took the narrow path cutting through it. All the while, Rafe had said nothing, content to be her shadow.
But Angelet grew curious. She asked, “Is this a common task for you, Sir Rafe? To act as a bodyguard, or an escort?”
“No. I’m only here as a favor to Simon Faber.”
“So you know him well?”
“Barely at all, to tell the truth. We met in Ashthorpe. He proposed I join his group to seek the job offered by the lord of Dryton. If he hadn’t spoken with me in the tavern, I would probably be miles away right now, looking for the next tourney to compete in. That’s what I usually do.”
“I’m happy you’re here instead,” she said, feeling very shy. “You take well to this work—the men all respect you. I saw today how they jump at the slightest command. You’re a natural leader.”
Rafe laughed at that. “I’m nothing of the sort. Simon and his boys are just green. Any authority would seem wise to them.”
“You are too modest.”
“That, my lady, is not something I’ve ever been accused of.” Rafe gave her a wicked grin.
“What is a more common accusation?” she returned playfully.
“Oh, too handsome, too charming, too clever…that sort of thing.”
“Not modest at all, then.”
“As I warned you when we first met,” he said.
Seeing a large fallen log near the edge of the pond, she stopped. “I’d like to sit here a while.”
“We have time.”
“You could sit with me…unless you need to keep watch, lest a deer or a rabbit comes to attack me?”
“I’ll risk it,” he said, sitting down just close enough that if she reached out she could touch him. “The local rabbits are probably not a threat.”
She laughed. “You don’t act like any other knight I’ve met. Not that I’ve met many. I enjoy talking to you.”
Rafe gave her wink. “Don’t get used to it, my lady. At your nunnery, you’ll endure days of silence. Or endless prayer.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“Why is it to be a nunnery?” he asked, more intently. “Why not marry again? You were widowed so young. How have you not gained more suitors?”
“I have nothing to offer. Who would wish to marry the broken widow of a minor nobleman’s son? Even aside from my affliction, I bring no great lands, nor distinguished name. And…” she broke off.
“And what?”
“Nothing.”
“Were I a lord, I’d offer for you.”
“Were you a lord, you would need to make alliances, or gain land, or get an heir, like any other man. You’d choose a young bride with a great dowry to bring to the marriage bed.”
“Just as well I’m not a lord then. None of those things do I want. Not lands, or alliances, or an heir.”
She was skeptical. “What man doesn’t want a legacy? What would your father say if you told him such?”
“I don’t know, because I don’t know who my father is,” Rafe said.
His tone was careless, but she saw a flash of pain in those deep blue eyes.
“Maybe he’s one of the great lords of England.
Or maybe he was a common soldier, dead a day after siring me.
I have no idea, and no loyalty to a man I have no name or face for.
Let that be my legacy—that I won’t do the same to a child that my father did to me. ”
“Oh,” Angelet said, reaching out to cover his hand with hers. “Don’t say that. You don’t know where you come from, but I am sure you were loved. Your mother, what of her? Did she tell you nothing of your birth?”
“My mother’s identity is a mystery to me too. I don’t remember her at all. I think she must have got rid of me the first moment she could after I was born.”
“You can’t say that about your mother!” Angelet said, thinking of what she’d do to see her own son again.
“I can and I will,” Rafe said bitterly. “The cold fact of the matter is that I was born a bastard and then instantly abandoned. So don’t speak to me of family name or legacy.
They’re empty dreams, stories nobles tell each other to convince themselves they’re better than the peasants plowing their fields. I’ll make my own way.”
“Is that why you’re a soldier?”
“It’s a profession where skill is all that matters. Doesn’t matter how noble a man’s blood is…he can still lose it all on the battlefield.”
Angelet winced at the thought of him dead.
“Forgive me,” he said. “None of these things are subjects to discuss with a lady. I shouldn’t have said anything. In fact, why am I telling you any of this?”
“Do you not normally confide in a woman?” she asked.
His expression became more closed off than before. “I don’t confide in anyone.”
“You must have someone,” she said. “I refuse to believe you’re alone, without friends or companions or someone you love.”
“Why does it matter to you?” he asked. He turned toward her, his expression dark. “I don’t want pity—”
Without knowing that she was going to do it, Angelet leaned over and kissed him.
It had been a terribly, terribly long time since she’d kissed a man, and the initial touch of his mouth to hers sent a shock through her whole being, as if she’d been brushed with fire. She leaned closer, deepening the kiss as she laid her hands on his shoulders.
She didn’t know what she thought he would do in reaction to her wanton advance, but she expected something faster and fiercer than what he did.
Rafe slipped one work-roughened, calloused hand behind her neck, teasing the soft skin there.
He took his time tasting her, running the tip of his tongue along her lower lip.
Angelet moaned a little as she pressed herself closer to him.
The dusk surrounding them weakened her inhibitions, allowing her to indulge in this unwise but most tantalizing folly.