A Knight's Vow Part 24

bewitched me. I fear if I let you go, I will never see you again." He hesitated, then added, "No one in the village has heard of a Mary who rides horses like Diana and has a father who works with horses."

"You have been asking about me?" Apprehension made her stiffen.

His gaze bore into hers. "Is there a reason I should not?"

She lowered her gaze. "My reputation. Is that not reason enough?"

"I was very clear that I owed the young lady a coin, for she helped me when I needed it. I wanted to thank her. I said nothing that would harm you."

Not knowingly. But the color of her eyes was unusual. If he had bandied about a description...

His eyes were questioning her now. "Tell me where you live," he said. "Is it Clenden?"

She shook her head. Dear saints in heaven, what had she done? All she needed was for him to ride up to

Clenden and describe a maid he'd been meeting in the woods. His life might well be forfeit.

"You must not look for me," she said.

"I do not think I can do that."

"You must. You must promise me now."

"Why?"

"I... am bespoken." It was only a small lie. She would be betrothed by the end of the week. "Mybetrothed would... feel it necessary to try to kill you.""You believe he can do that?""No," she said softly, eyeing the strength of his shoulders, the confidence with which he carried himself.

He could well defend himself. But it would be her father who would go after him, and her father was no match for him. It would be her father who died. And then Robin would be hunted. And killed. Robin could defend himself but not against large numbers.

Robin. Her father. She could not bear being the cause of either's death.

"You do not love him," he stated as if it were a fact.

"Yes..."

"No," he insisted.

"I do," she said stubbornly, even though she knew her eyes must belie the statement. She could not take

her gaze from him, from the determination in the clenched jaw, the burning fire in his eyes. She could not even move away.

"You are lovely," he said unexpectedly. "I envy him."

"I am plain," she protested. She'd always known that. No one said so, of course. Not in so many words, but they had always praised the beauty of her sisters and rarely did the same with her. Her mirror, made of polished steel, reflected a very ordinary face.

"Only to a blind man," he said as his hand took hers and brought it to his mouth. "He must be a poor suitor indeed if he has not told you that you have hair the color of a copper sun and eyes that reflect all the wondrous colors of nature."

She was stunned by the words. And the gesture. It was one made often by courtiers, but Robin was no courtier, though he sometimes spoke as well as one. By his own words, he was a soldier trying to better himself.

Fl.u.s.tered, she retreated to her question. "Do you vow you will not ask questions about me?"

"I do not make vows lightly, mistress," he replied, well remembering the last one given, the one he'd madeto his mother. "And that is not one I'm sure I can keep.""What others have you made?"That I would marry for love. That vow was heading him straight toward disaster. "That I would be loyal to the king." If only those two vows did not conflict.

"Have you seen him?" she asked. "Some say he will ruin the country."

Duncan chose his words carefully. Clenden was in northern England which had been mostly loyal to the

Yorkist cause. "He has issued ordinances protecting the rights of civilians. He seems a fair enough man."

He took her hand and guided her to a dry spot. "But you have not yet told me where I can find you."

"I cannot," she said miserably.

Tell her. Tell her who you are. But the moment he did, all would change. They would no longer be two strangers of equal rank who reveled in one another's company. Would she be awed? Appalled at his lies? His subterfuge? Would she think he was only toying with her?

He was not ready to break the magic of these moments.

But neither was he willing to let her go this time without learning more about her. Or how she came to speak so well. Or play and sing so finely. Had she been a lady's maid or mayhap a by-blow of some important man? And yet she had said her father was a groom. No explanation made sense.

Impulsively, he held out his hand. "Come with me," he said. He could not remember when last time he had been impulsive. Not even this journey to find a bride had been impulsive. It had been calculated, carefully planned with an immediate objective in mind.

Asking a servant girl to run off with him was impulsive. And marriage could be disastrous-for both of them. Henry Tudor had made his wishes clear. Anyone violating them did so at their peril. And that of the people they loved.

Did he love her?

Or was it the sun and the stream and the sense of freedom he was feeling for the first time in his life?

He looked at her and his heart pounded harder. His breath caught in his throat. She made the sun seem brighter. He wanted to touch her. Not just with l.u.s.t, though he would be lying if he said nay to that. But he also wanted to just... feel the softness of her cheeks, the silkiness of her hair. He wanted to hear her sing, and he wanted the warmth that her nearness raised in him.

Love? What did he know of love?

The silence echoed through the forest, a pause that was full of electricity.

Then she released his hand and her fingers did what his had moments ago. They explored his face, caressing the scar near his eye. It was as if silk was being drawn across his face, and yet there was heat, too.

His heart s.h.i.+fted inside him. Turned. Skipped.

"Will you?" he asked again, holding his breath, wanting with all his will for her to say "aye." No questions. No reservations.

Instead, she looked bewildered. "Where..."

"Do you trust me?" He heard the intensity in his voice. The need to have her trust was overwhelming.

Even though he'd done nothing to deserve it.

He saw her swallow hard. Her small hand tightened in his. "I would not have come had I not."

"Would you leave here? Now? With me?"

It was unfair. He knew it was. For all she knew he was a penniless, inept minstrel; a soldier whose skills were no longer required; a wanderer who had no home to offer, no security. He did not know exactly what she had now. Her dress was worn but was of good quality. She had access to fine horses. She spoke well.

Why would she choose a wanderer? But he needed to know that she would choose him for himself alone, not the wealth he could bring her. In truth, he might have little if he displeased Henry with his choice. By the saints, but he wanted to be chosen for himself.

He did not know what to expect. He saw from the emotions in her eyes that she wanted to go with him. There had been a sudden jump of joy in her eyes. But it had faded as quickly as it had come.

Instead, she moved another step back. "I cannot."

"Does your betrothed offer more?" The question came from confusion, from the hordes of women who had l.u.s.ted over his fortune but not him.

"It is not that," she said. "It is honor. I have made promises."

Duncan had no answer for that. Honor had always meant everything to him. How could he ask anyone else to forfeit it?

She had turned away as she said the words and now his fingers turned her face back toward him. Tears s.h.i.+mmered in her eyes.

He thought about his options. He'd always thought about his options. He had done it for years during a civil war and as a mercenary in Europe. He could reveal who he was. He could shove aside any suitor. He had the rank. He had the power.

That wasn't what he wanted. He'd wanted someone to come to him with her free will, with no reservations.

He wanted what he could not have. He knew that now. He would continue his journey. Surely he could find a n.o.ble lady with no entanglements. The problem was that he did not want a n.o.ble lady. He wanted his lady of the woods.

"Robin?"

Her soft voice seemed to float across the short distance between them. Her fingers tightened in his.

The name was foreign to him. It even took him a moment to remember that he had given it to her. She talked about honor. He wondered whether she would think he had honor if he revealed who he really was.

He dropped her hand. Mayhap he would wait another day. A day or more. Mayhap then he would know in truth. He might know what to do.

He turned away from her, but not before Lynet saw the vulnerability in eyes she expected rarely had any.

She wanted to reach her hand out to him. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to tell him she would go anywhere with him, but she feared it would mean his death. Her father would do anything to get her back. He had been indulgent in many ways, but he would never be indulgent with his honor. He had asked three potential suitors to his home. If she were now to run off with a roving minstrel, she would destroy his reputation forever. And his honor.

He would avenge that. He would have to, or see his power ripped from him. He had balanced his loyalties carefully during the civil war. He needed the goodwill of the men he'd invited as potential sons-in-law. For her to leave with an itinerant musician would be a great insult.

But how she wanted that. She wanted it with all her heart and soul.

She had read the romances of The Castellan of Coucy and Auca.s.sin and Nicolette. In the latter, Nicolette, a captive maiden without lands, falls in love with the son of a n.o.ble-man. She was imprisoned, but finally escaped with her love and joined him in many adventures. She even traveled as a minstrel in her efforts to rejoin him when they were separated again.

Could it not be the other away around? Could not the daughter of a n.o.bleman run off with a minstrel? Or was love just a fancy, told by minstrels and jongleurs to entertain? She had seen little happiness between her parents and had wondered whether true love existed. She had hoped, but never believed. She'd certainly never expected it.

Now, as she looked in the minstrel's eyes, she realized it did exist. Three days, and her world had changed. And having tasted it, she must let it go. She would have memories though. And that was more than she had thought to have.

"I cannot go," she said again, trying to convince herself as much as him. She tried a smile. "I expect you will find a position soon. There is an estate a day's ride from here. I heard some soldiers talking. There is a hunting party. They will be in need of minstrels."

"You want me to go?"

"No. But I cannot continue to... disappear, and you are at risk here."

"I can go to Clenden."

Her throat grew tight and horror ran through her, cooling the warmth that was like warm mola.s.ses. Robin would discover who she was. He would think she had played him for a fool; or worse, he would say something to someone.

"Everyone is leaving," she said, trying to make her voice indifferent. "There is no longer a need for minstrels."

He raised an eyebrow. The left side of those crooked lips twisted upward. "You know this?" he stated quizzically.

"Everyone knows."

"I hear there is going to be a wedding. The oldest daughter. Surely there would be a need for more musicians. Unless," he added, "you think I am not accomplished enough."