Awakening His Lady: Novella (Norfolk Knights Book 3) Read online

  Awakening his Lady (A Medieval Romance)

  Norfolk Knights—Book 3

  Saskia Knight

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Defending his Lady

  Also by Saskia Knight

  Awakening his Lady by Saskia Knight

  © 2012 Saskia Knight

  (previously published as Awakening, book 3 of Gresham Chronicles)

  —Norfolk Knights—

  Claiming his Lady (Novella)

  Seducing his Lady (Novella)

  Awakening his Lady (Novella)

  Defending his Lady (Full-length novel)

  You can sign up to Saskia’s newsletter here (or via her website) for more information on book releases.

  For more information about this author visit:

  www.saskiaknight.com

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Prologue

  Norfolk, England 1206

  Lady Angelique Gresham closed her eyes and fell back on the soft grass, relishing the heat of the summer sun on her eyelids and the sensuous tickle of wildflowers against her ankles. “What a perfect day,” she sighed. “If only it would last forever.”

  Lady Melisende Gresham gazed thoughtfully across the lush river valley to the castle, so solid and prosperous, and watched as the pennant flying atop the battlements snapped and fluttered briefly before changing direction. “Nothing lasts, Angel. You will be married soon, as will Rowena.”

  Lady Rowena Gresham, who paced restlessly as she cast a knowing eye at the crops in a neighbouring field, took one last bite of her apple and threw the core at Melisende, hitting her squarely on the back. “Hush, Melly, I was happy until you said that. I’ll never marry, unlike Angel, lying there grinning like a fool while she dreams of a certain knight. And unlike you, marrying God.” She folded her arms and looked upon the castle with a proprietorial air. “I will live here at Gresham, will run the castle, just as father does. And will live happily ever after.”

  “’Tis that simple?” Angelique’s grin broadened at the sight of Rowena’s supremely confident stance, and turned into laughter as she met Melisende’s answering smile. But Rowena didn’t laugh, just looked out at the line of darkness that lay on the northern horizon. Melisende was right. A change was coming…

  Chapter 1

  North Norfolk Coast, England, 1214

  Lady Angelique Gresham barely felt the chill rain that descended through the ruined chapel roof onto her upturned face. She blinked her eyes to clear the water that clung to her lashes, but dared make no further movement, other than to tighten her grip around the silver dagger.

  Someone was out there, on the black, rain-soaked marsh. No one should be.

  It was too wild a night for man or beast to roam the desolate land between castle and sea. Only a foolish woman would have ventured forth for sentimental reasons—only a foolish woman, whose regret at her impulsive behaviour deepened with each pounding beat of her heart.

  Angelique focused all her senses on locating the shadow that had just passed by the window. She strained to hear any sign of life above the whine of the wind as it caught the jagged edges of the chapel’s flint walls, but she heard no other sound. Her eyes scanned the darkness for movement, but she saw nothing but shadows of stone, black against the charcoal sky.

  She exhaled shakily—not realizing she’d been holding her breath—and edged her way to the gaping hole where the door had once been. She had to return to the castle. No one would hear her cries from here. No one knew where she was. It had been a mistake to come.

  She hesitated under the stone arch, narrowing her eyes in an effort to give form to the shadows outside the chapel walls. Suddenly, the shadows coalesced and before she could raise her dagger, her hand was clamped by a man’s hand, and her body was brought tight against a man’s body. She struggled to draw breath to scream, but a calloused hand closed tight against her mouth.

  “Angel!” His voice was low, strong and insistent. “By Christ, will you be still!”

  Despite the blast of energy that gave her the strength to struggle against his vice-like grip, she suddenly stilled, responding to his voice before her mind had time to inform her body of what it was already aware. She knew this man.

  He loosened his grip and she twisted around, hardly daring to believe what her senses were telling her. In the darkness and rain she could see nothing: only feel his warm breath upon her face. Her nostrils flared as her body reacted to his scent. It was him.

  She raised her hand to his face, touching it hesitantly, still unable to believe that he had returned after all these years. His hand slipped from her mouth and rested on her shoulders.

  “Guy?” Her hushed voice was swept away by the wind, but she knew he’d heard. She could feel the heat of his fingers, despite the thick, fur-lined cloak, as they pressed briefly against her shoulders. His hand covered hers before he twisted her palm to his lips and kissed it. A shiver of desire rippled through her body.

  “The same.”

  A cry emerged from some hidden place deep within and she dropped her head to his chest, squeezing her eyes tight shut, finding the reality of him stronger that way, fearing he would disappear like he did in her dreams. But he didn’t. Instead, his arms swept around her and pulled her close.

  For one long moment she allowed the warmth of his hands to penetrate her body, too long cold; for one long moment she absorbed his presence as if it were an extension of her own, and for one long moment she felt as if anything were possible.

  But then reality filtered through her shocked senses. She shook her head and slid her hands up against his chest holding him at bay. He would go from her, like he always had, her dreams reflecting his disappearance nine years before. She couldn’t allow his leaving to hurt her again. She couldn’t risk losing herself in him.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To see you.”

  His powerful voice had softened and she could hear emotion in the timbre of his words. But she shook her head once more and stepped away. His fingers slowly unfurled from her cloak, as if reluctant to release her.

  “Why? What do you want with me?”

  “I wish to see you, to talk with you, to find out how you fare.” He reached out to touch her cheek but she shook her head, tilting her face up to his in an attitude of defiance she hoped would make him keep his distance. If he didn’t, she’d be lost. It must have worked because he let his hand fall back to his side. “But not here. Come, I will escort you back. The marsh is a chill and pitiless place to greet an old friend.”

  An old friend. That was all she was to him. “Of course.”

  She turned and walked swiftly down the narrow path that led to the castle, aware of his presence just one step behind. Her mind raced, trying to catch up with the surge of emotions and reactions that flooded her body. Was he really here to see her? If so, what did he want from her?

  They entered the castle by the postern gate, which she’d left unbarred for her return. There was a small group of guards talking and drinking by the gatehouse but they didn’t notice them pass. She led him up the outer steps of the keep to the Great Hall.

  On
ce inside the dimly lit Hall, she scanned it to see if Guy had brought others, to see if anything had changed. But it was just as she’d left it. The fresh rushes, laid by the servants before they’d departed to attend the Charter Fair earlier that day, the dying embers of a fire and an old, deaf dog, half asleep, who flicked his tail in lazy welcome.

  “Where is everyone?”

  She started at the closeness of his voice behind her and walked away, busying herself with lighting the other rush lights, her hand trembling as she held up a lighted taper to the tallow. It sputtered into life, the flames flickering over the unadorned whitewashed flint walls. She drew in a deep breath and turned to face him.

  “My steward, Sir Richard, and the rest of my servants are celebrating in the town after the Charter Fair. Probably sleeping it off by now.”

  “Leaving you alone? Why did you allow it?”

  She plucked off her cloak and draped it over a wooden bench to dry, still with her back to him. “Because I am safe. My guards are at the main gate.”

  “They didn’t even notice you coming in through the postern gate.”

  “They assumed it was barred. I’d slipped out for a few minutes only and at high tide the castle causeway will be impassable. Anyway, I think it is a little late for you to worry about my safety.”

  She glanced at the trestle table on the dais where supper for one was laid out. “I’m sorry, I’m not prepared for company.”

  “I want nothing, Angel. Just to talk.”

  “You must have wine.” She opened a large solid chest and plucked out another mazer cup, keeping her eyes down, still unable to meet his gaze. “The silver cups are already packed, I’m afraid.”

  “Packed? You are going somewhere?”

  She nodded, but refused to elaborate. “Are you hungry? You must have been riding long and hard. I have some supper here. I hope it’s enough.” She brought the food to the table before the fire and laid it out, her eyes cast down, as if busy checking that all was in order for their supper.

  “Stop, Angel, turn to me.”

  She returned to the chest and took her time searching its contents. “There is more food in here somewhere. You should have told me you were coming. How far have you travelled, did you say?” She could hear herself babbling but she couldn’t stop. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to see Guy de Lacey again.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Well, it must have been far. We are so isolated here. You—”

  Suddenly she felt his hands run up her arms. She closed her eyes tight and the lid of the chest slipped from her hands and banged shut.

  “Stop, Angel.” He turned her to face him and brought his hand to her chin and lifted it. “Stop. Look at me.”

  Slowly she opened her eyes, keeping her gaze lowered to his mouth—the softness of his lips was separated by a firm, uncompromising line. She frowned. That sternness was new. Her gaze lifted to his cheeks, roughened with stubble. He must have been riding long hours, not to have shaved. She touched his face, she couldn’t help herself.

  “The texture of your skin, your hair, it’s different, it’s changed.” Her fingertips scraped against the stubble, tracing a path that took her back to his lips.

  “Nine years brings changes to a man.”

  “And to a woman.”

  His head moved under her hand. “No. Not to you.”

  She looked up into his eyes then. Hazel eyes that glowed golden, reflecting the jumping flames of the rush lights that were beginning to lick into the cold air, consuming it and giving them strength. Just like him, she thought. If she let him, he’d consume her. And she couldn’t risk that.

  She turned her back to him—drawing a deep, ragged breath as she went—and busied herself pouring wine into each cup. “I’ve changed, Guy. And you mustn’t think otherwise. Please, be seated. You must be hungry and tired.”

  “I was, but am no more. Not now I have you to feast my eyes on.”

  She heard him step behind her and she froze, unable to move, even as his hands captured the long strands of hair that had escaped her widow’s coif. She closed her eyes as he wrapped her curls around his fingers, drawing his hand closer to her head with each sinuous movement. She tensed as his fingers fumbled briefly with her coif and net before her hair was freed, and tumbled into his waiting hands. He lifted her hair to one side, his breath, hot against her neck.

  Heat pooled in her stomach revealing a long-forgotten desire that she’d presumed dead. That it was still alive shocked her into movement. She put down the cups of wine that her trembling hands threatened to spill and turned to him, her hair falling around her face, untamed and tousled by his hands.

  “It’s your turn to stop. Now! Don’t you dare turn you charm on me again, Guy. You think you can return here and seduce me after all these years? You think I’ve been waiting for this?” Her breathing was coming in short, sharp pants, aroused by his proximity and by the frustration that he’d waited so long to come to her.

  A faint smile flickered on his lips and in his eyes. “Maybe.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Your face is flushed, your eyes bright.”

  She took his hands and flung them away. “Through anger, Guy. Anger! I want no one. There’s only one thing I want now.”

  His eyes narrowed but his smile lingered. “Just one thing? You are easy to please, my lady. Tell me what it is you want and I’ll give it to you.”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “’Tis not so easily given.”

  His smile faded. “Tell me. What is it you want?”

  “My freedom.”

  Chapter 2

  He shook his head. “Freedom.” His whisper left a trail of goose bumps across her skin. “Who amongst us has that?”

  She swallowed. “I do. Or I will. I repeat, Guy. I will not be seduced.”

  Despite her determination to meet his eye, to convince him she was speaking the truth, she had to turn away first. She picked up the cup of wine and held it out to him, cursing her trembling hand that would do nothing to help convince him of the veracity of her words.

  He took the wine and sipped it, his eyes still watching her intently. “What have I done to make you think I wish to seduce you?” His eyes sparkled in the light. “Your hair is damp. I was merely freeing it from its bonds so it could dry.”

  “So considerate.” She sipped her own wine. “You would have me believe you’ve changed so much?” She shook her head. “I cannot.”

  His face was suddenly serious. “I was ever considerate of you. Of only you.”

  “So considerate you would declare your love for me and then leave me without a word.” She sat down in an armchair, her fingers brushing the silky smooth carvings, whose design was muted by age. “Please take a seat.”

  She wondered if he’d even heard her as he continued to stand, leaning against the fire lintel, the ruddy glow of the flames illuminating his suddenly tense features. A muscle flickered in his jaw. “I had no choice but to leave. I had nothing to give you.”

  “I wanted nothing.”

  “You didn’t know what you wanted. You were young. But I knew what you wanted, what you deserved. And it was more than the nothing you’d have got if you’d married me. Your father would have disinherited you; he would never have allowed us to marry. He wanted you to marry a man of wealth.”

  A cold stillness swept through her veins. It was as if a night had fallen that would never break. “I had no care for what my father wanted. He had no love for me. I would have trusted you with my life then, Guy. I offered you my life but you turned it down. You wanted adventure and excitement more than you wanted me.”

  He shook his head. “I did what I thought best. I left so you could have a better life.”

  “Better?” The word was barely audible through the bitterness that choked her. “Well it is now my husband is dead. I earned my wealth and now I intend to keep it. I have my lands and my dower, thanks to the King.”

  He frowned. “I was wrong. You’ve
changed. You were never so mercenary, so unfeeling.”

  “You try and be caring about a man who abused me in the vilest way. You try and regret the death of a man whose only pleasure was in the pain he inflicted on others. I am glad he died. Because if he hadn’t, I would have.”

  He reached out to her but Angelique slapped his arm and turned away, unable to look into his eyes because of the painful memories that flooded her mind.

  “I didn’t know—”

  “How could you? No one but my closest servants knew. He took great pains to pretend he was a good man to everyone else.”

  “I would have returned.”

  “No you wouldn’t.”

  His hazel eyes turned fiery and his hand shot out and held hers with a grip, from which she couldn’t have pulled away, even if she’d wanted to. And faced with the full strength of him, she didn’t want to. He’d broadened in the years since she’d seen him. Always tall, he now had the breadth to make him undeniably a powerful man. The hand that gripped hers was large, the muscles in his forearm bunched under tanned skin.

  “Woman, stop your recriminations and listen.”

  “I’m listening. Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what your purpose is.”

  “I’ve told you what my purpose is. I’ve come to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “The King has rewarded me well for my years fighting with him in France. And you are free now. I want you.”

  “You want me.” She nodded to herself, feeling her anger rising. “No, what you want is to own me. I know men now. I know what they want.”