Honoring his Lady: A Medieval Romance (Norfolk Knights Book 5) Read online

  Honoring his Lady (A Medieval Romance)

  Norfolk Knights—Book 5

  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

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by Saskia Knight

  Honoring his Lady by Saskia Knight

  © 2020 Saskia Knight

  —Norfolk Knights—

  Claiming his Lady (Novella)

  Seducing his Lady (Novella)

  Awakening his Lady (Novella)

  Defending his Lady (Full-length novel)

  Honoring 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.

  Notes on Norfolk

  Today, Norfolk is a quiet, rural county in eastern England, criss-crossed with narrow roads, golden fields, and full of tantalising reminders of a very different past. With over 659 medieval churches still standing, you can’t help but reflect on a time when Norfolk was rich, heavily populated and a very different place to the one in which I grew up!

  To help you figure out where the books in the Norfolk Knights series are set, I’ve created the map below. The first three books featuring Rowena, Melisende, and Angelique are set in and around the medieval ports of Blakeney Haven and Cley, close to where I was raised. Book 4 onwards are set on the coast, near the rivers and Broads of east Norfolk.

  Wherever I live, Norfolk will always be my home and I’m happy that I can share a little of my love for it with you through the stories of the three Gresham sisters, and the de Vere family.

  Happy reading!

  Saskia

  Prologue

  Norfolk, 1198

  Thirteen-year-old Lady Alice de Courcy ran through the field of swaying crops beside her castle home without a backward glance. Her unbound, fair tresses flew behind her, rivaling the golden barley in their brightness.

  Despite the fierce summer sun, she continued to run until she reached the woods. There the sunlight became dappled and the air fresher as she arrived at the stream where she always met her best friend, William. He was there, waiting for her as usual.

  “Alice,” he greeted, with his customary brevity, and shy smile. She often wondered how he managed to convey so much in so few words. She’d decided it was because his eyes were so expressive—a deep brown, as brown as the soil in winter, fringed with thick dark lashes. They were eyes you could trust.

  “William,” she said, placing her hand against her chest as she tried to regain her breath. “Goodness! It was not easy to get away today. The castle is in an uproar, and Mother is even more bad-tempered than usual.”

  She waited for him to ask why, but he simply continued to lean against one of the gnarly old oaks, and watch her, a slight smile playing on his lips.

  “Are you not interested to know why?” she asked.

  “Aye, if you wish to tell me.”

  She shrugged. “Nay, if you don’t wish to know, then I shall not tell you, even if it is most interesting,” she teased.

  She took a few steps away as if she might wander along the stream, before dropping to her knees to admire a clump of bright wildflowers. She stroked the buttery yellow petals, aware of William behind her. He knelt beside her, plucked a flower, and offered it to her.

  “What should I do with it?” she asked, wanting to provoke him into something more than distant admiration.

  “Place it behind your ear. It will look pretty.”

  “You should place it there.” She didn’t know who was more shocked, her for uttering such flirtatious words, or the very proper William. He’d never touched her other than to hold her hand when they were younger. For the last few years, though, even that had stopped, much to her frustration.

  Their gazes locked as he did as she bid, and brushed her hair aside with his long, calloused fingers, and gently slid the flower behind her ear. She watched his throat convulse as he swallowed. He stepped away and sat against a tree, his eyes still on her.

  “So?” she asked.

  “So?” he repeated.

  “Does it look pretty?”

  “Alice,” he said with a warning narrowing of the eyes. “You know it does.”

  “I know nothing of the sort.”

  “Well, now you do.”

  “I suppose I do. So”—she spread her skirts prettily around her—“now we’re here, what shall we do?” She knew what she wanted him to do. She wanted him to kiss her like she’d seen the stable boy kiss her maid.

  “Talk?” he suggested.

  She sighed. “I suppose so. Of what shall we talk?”

  “You can tell me what you wanted to tell me earlier.”

  “Oh, that. It is nothing. Simply my father’s cousin is coming to stay while my father is in London.”

  William frowned. “Why is your father in London?”

  Alice shrugged. “He says he’s needed there. But I heard my mother tell her sister that it was good riddance.”

  “But what about the land?”

  Alice laughed. “That is so like you, William. Your first thought is always for the land.”

  William smiled, too. He wasn’t like the other youths who hated to be laughed at. She’d told him that once, and he’d replied that indeed he was, but somehow she could say anything, and he didn’t mind.

  “As it should be, Alice. For it is the land which gives us life.” He raked his fingers through the rich earth and rubbed it between his fingers, letting it shower to the ground.

  For some reason, she was stirred by the way he fingered the soil so tenderly.

  “Anyone would think you love the soil more than people, more than a person,” she couldn’t help adding.

  He raised those dark eyes to her, and her heart stopped.

  “More than most, that much is true, but not more than you.”

  She turned away to hide her smile. It made her feel good when he said things like that. She’d always known he’d liked her best of all girls. It would have been hard not to know, for he’d been telling her thus ever since she was a child. But in recent years, although he’d never tried to kiss or caress her, his admissions of love made her feel something else, something quite different.

  She lay on the soft grass and closed her eyes, aware that his eyes were upon her. “Listen to the birds singing! Isn’t it glorious? Like the choir in Norwich Cathedral.”

  The grasses rustled as William lay beside her. She stretched her fingers out and held her breath, wondering if he would do as she wished. When she felt the tentative touch of his fingers upon her own, she released a long sigh and opened her eyes. He curled his fingers around hers and swept his thumb along the side of her hand, circling twice around the nail of her little finger. She’d never known a sensation like it. It was as if he touched other parts of her. For one long moment, neither
moved.

  Later, when she remembered that moment, she could have sworn that the birds had stopped singing, that the leaves, high above them in the tree’s canopy, had stopped moving, that the air had been sucked from her body. And later still she’d wished with all her heart that her life had ended then, with such sweetness.

  But, instead, a darkness came upon them. A cloud slid across the sun at the same time as they became aware of the sound of a horse’s hooves drumming into the ground upon which they lay. It was William who jumped up first, looking toward the woodland path along which a horseman was riding.

  Alice stood behind William as the stranger approached, spotted them, and pulled his great destrier to a savage halt. Alice shivered as the stranger’s eyes swept over her.

  “You must be Alice.” His voice was no friendlier than his eyes.

  She swallowed. “Indeed, sir.”

  “I offered to find you when your mother said you were missing.”

  The chill Alice felt didn’t leave her, but she curtseyed as she’d been taught. She had no idea who this man was but could tell he was accustomed to being obeyed. He had not the appearance of a lackey.

  “Come,” he said, “we can ride together back to the castle.”

  “Thank you, sir, but I can walk.”

  He leaned down, and she didn’t like the way his breath smelled of brandy. His hand came around hers and grasped it tight. “Back to the castle with you, little maid.” He pulled her up in front of him, and she clung to the horse’s mane.

  She turned to William, who glowered at the man, his fists clenched. It wasn’t like him. Her world had turned upside down.

  “Alice, I—” shouted William.

  But whatever William said was cut off as the stranger grasped her around the waist with one hand, and shouted at his horse to canter away.

  William watched the only girl he’d ever loved taken away from him by a stranger. He was panting with anger. Sweat beaded his face, and yet he felt a sickening chill settle deep inside. Something was wrong, and he knew not what it was. But, the same feeling he had about the soil which he loved so much, told him the truth about Alice.

  There were three things he knew without words: one the land, and two, his beloved Alice. Something threatened Alice, but he, as a mere sixteen-year-old youngest son with no prospects, was powerless to either identify it or remedy it. But he’d do as he always did, he’d watch out for her.

  One day she would be his. That was the third thing he knew.

  Chapter 1

  Autumn, 1205, Norfolk

  William cantered into the bailey yard at Wanham Castle and jumped off his horse. God’s bones, he was hot. He squinted up at the blue sky where high clouds were beginning to form and was thankful his day’s work was done. It would rain later. He felt it. He’d been out on the land since sun up, making sure that the last of the harvest had been brought in before the heavens opened.

  He tossed the reins to the stable boy and walked across to the pump, pulling off his shirt as he went. One of the maids quickly detoured from the pigsty where she had been taking some peelings, dropped the basket, and primed the pump for him.

  They exchanged a smile, while the stable lad glowered behind them, as he obediently took William’s horse to water. William shook his head.

  “You should marry him and put him out of his misery, Mary.”

  She glanced casually at the back of the lad in question. “Simon? He’s but a lad.” She took William’s shirt from him. The water began to flow into a bucket, and William took both handles and waited for it to fill.

  “And you’re naught but a lass, so you’ll be well suited.”

  “I’d be better suited to someone taller and stronger, methinks,” she said, blatantly eyeing his chest. It swelled as he took a deep breath, readying himself for the shock of cold water against his heated skin. It wasn’t the only thing to swell. Mary’s gaze could raise the dead, and he certainly wasn’t that. Her gaze slipped lower, and her mouth tweaked with merriment. She raised lusty eyes to his. “Anytime you’d like a roll in the hay, Sir William, let me know.” He shook his head and flung the bucket of cold water over his head. He gasped as it poured over his hot, sweaty body. And so did Mary, whose ripe bosoms swelled with a big sigh as her eyes swept him from head to toe once more.

  He’d lain with wenches but had always made sure that they weren’t Wanham wenches. He was destined for another, and one, he was sure, who wouldn’t take kindly to hear of his exploits in bed. Or in the field, come to that.

  He tossed his head back, sending droplets of water flying into the sultry air. He thrust his fingers through his hair and slicked it off his face. “I thank you for your offer, Mary. But I have eyes for another.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t you fret. Lady Alice need know nothing about it. Besides, she’s a lady, and what do ladies know of tumbling?”

  William didn’t know the answer to that. His sister-in-law, Kezia, had seemed to take to tumbling very well with his brother, Rufus. And, although she hadn’t been raised a lady, it turned out she’d been born one. He hoped that his Alice might show the same interest in coupling as Kezia.

  William jerked his head to the stable. “Wed Simon, that is my advice to you, Mary.”

  He plucked his shirt from her hands and dried off the excess moisture before running up the steps to the castle’s Hall, leaving Mary scowling behind him. He pushed open the heavy oak door and breathed in the smell of beeswax and fresh herbs. His sister, Katherine, now the lady of the castle, made sure to continue to adhere to their mother’s high standards. The morning sun streamed through the open shutters, revealing the luster of the well-oiled table upon which Katherine worked.

  “You’re back early and washed already!” exclaimed his sister, Lora, looking him up and down. “It’s not yet past the middle of the day! What ails you, Will?”

  “You’d have me work all the hours God sends?”

  Lora shrugged. “You always do. What’s so different about today?”

  He didn’t want to answer and so, instead, feigned interest in Katherine’s accounts. She looked up and absently rubbed the ink from her fingers. William noticed shadows beneath her eyes. The eldest of his sisters had borne the brunt of the work since his mother’s death. “Is the last of the harvest brought in?” she asked.

  “Aye,” he said. “And it’s been a good one, despite the men we diverted to fight for the de Courcy castle.” He accepted a glass of ale.

  “It was necessary and successful,” said Lora. “Alice and her mother are back living in their home. Shame her father didn’t live to see it.”

  “Aye. That last battle proved too much for him.”

  “But I hear Sir Bayard of Wrotham is living at the castle again. Apparently, Lady de Courcy invited him.” Lora sniffed. “That man is as slippery as an eel. One minute he’s fighting against the de Courcys—and us—the next he’s ingratiated himself back into their home.”

  “Aye, well, hopefully not for long,” said William. He’d never liked Sir Bayard, but now, at least his dislike had been vindicated. The man was a turncoat traitor.

  “Why?” asked Celestria. “Do you know something we don’t? Because I heard he was helping Lady de Courcy find a match for Alice.”

  William looked up sharply. “And why would he do that?”

  Celestria shrugged. “I know not. I’m merely repeating what I’ve heard.”

  “Well, don’t,” said Katherine, with uncharacteristic ill humor. “You’re obsessed with marriage.”

  “It’s natural,” replied Celestria, unperturbed by the scolding. “You should be too.”

  “What is it, Katherine?” asked William. “Nothing wrong with our trade, is there?”

  Katherine rubbed her neck. “It could be better. It’s not as good as when Mother was alive. Her name made things happen. But some have stuck by us.”

  “And why would they not?” William asked. “Our word is good. You worry too much, Kat. You’ll see. All will be w
ell.”

  Katherine twisted her full lips into a rueful smile. “And you always see things too simply, Will.”

  He put his hand on her, willing his strength to travel to her slender shoulders, which always took on more of a burden than they should. “That’s because they are simple.”

  Celestria, who had been playing with one of the dogs, looked up sharply. “Then why is it you are not married yet?”

  William ignored the barb. Unlike his brothers and Lora, he and Katherine didn’t rise to Celestria’s sharp tongue and quick wit. He exchanged a glance with Katherine, but for once, his reliable sister didn’t brush off Celestria’s comment.

  Katherine pushed the papers away, stood up and smoothed down her skirts. “Celestria has a point, Will. There’s nothing to stand between you and Alice now.”

  William held out his cup, and a maid replenished his ale. It gave him time to think because, for once in his life, he’d determined upon a course of action which he wasn’t willing to share. “Now that Alice’s mother no longer wishes her to marry Rufus?”

  Celestria gave a sharp laugh. “That was never going to happen. Anyone who’d heard Rufus and Kezia at night would know that.”

  “Celestria!” reprimanded Katherine. “And how would you know of such things?”

  Celestria rolled her eyes. “I have ears, sister—ears to hear Kezia’s cries of passion.” She dramatically hugged herself, imitating actions that William hoped she knew nothing of. “And ears to hear the servants’ gossip.” She stepped closer, her beautiful eyes wide. “Did you know that often, Hawise said—and she would know because she lay closest to their door—that Kezia made the sound of passion all night until dawn came.”