If Not For The Knight, Debbie Boek [electronic reader TXT] 📗

dark hair and, as he dismounted, she could see that the back of his head was cut close to his scalp, maybe even shaved. His face was broad, his nose bent at an irregular angle, apparently having been broken more than once. His eyes were narrow slits as he stared hard at Edgar. Regan found his visage so frightening, that she felt compelled to look away.

It was the other knight who caught her attention completely. Not as big as the barbarian who accompanied him, he was nonetheless large and powerfully built. His golden brown hair was also cut short, but not shaved in the back as the other's had been. His face was intense. His deep blue eyes fixed steadily on Regan.

She felt herself blushing as she watched him. She knew those broad shoulders, remembered the feel of those strong, supple fingers caressing her so tenderly. Regan knew who he was.

Calder stopped his horse and dismounted. His eyes never left Regan's as he walked toward her. A long, thin scar marred the right side of his face. For some reason she could not fathom, it made him even more ruggedly handsome than he would have been without it.

“Can you not even take your eyes off him in my presence, slut?” Edgar hissed.

Before Regan had even comprehended what he said, Calder struck out with a large fist, hitting Edgar square in the jaw and knocking him down into the mud.

“The girl was hurt, you insolent cur. We tended her wounds. Now, show her the respect that is her due.”

Edgar just lay in the mud, glaring scornfully up at Calder as he rubbed his jaw.

“Show her the respect that she is due.” Calder demanded again, in a low, threatening tone.

Edgar glanced at Regan and she flushed in response, knowing she was no longer worthy of anyone's respect. She reached out and placed a hand on Calder's arm as he took another step toward Edgar.

“Please,” she whispered, her eyes wide and pleading as she looked up at him. She was not sure what she was pleading for, no more humiliation for Edgar, perhaps. No more undeserved gallantry on her behalf, maybe.

Calder simply stared down at her for a moment, mesmerized by the endless depths of her brilliant green eyes, caught up in the memory of how she had felt in his arms, and knowing that, given half a chance, he would take her again, right here and now.

Sanity returned to him once more when he heard Draco loudly clear his throat.

“What is your name?” Calder asked softly.

“I am Regan,” she answered a little shakily, finally removing her hand from his arm. He stood so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. His nearness, and the intensity of his gaze, caused her heart to pound furiously and she found it difficult to breathe normally.

“And what is this man to you?” He indicated Edgar with a nod.

“He is my betrothed. We were to be wed in two days’ time.” Tears filled her eyes as she spoke and only Calder knew the true reason for them.

He felt no shame or regret for what had happened between them, but he did feel sorry for the position he had placed her in. If the villagers found out what they had shared, she would be ostracized by them, particularly if he had gotten her with child. He accepted his responsibility for her predicament and decided he must do what he could to help her.

He turned back toward Edgar, who was still lying in the mud. “You have my permission to marry this girl two days hence.”

Edgar continued to glare at him. “Will you be done with her by then, Milord?” he asked, his voice thick with sarcasm.

He doubled up in pain when Draco kicked him in the ribs. “Watch your tongue, Saxon cur, or you won't live long enough to see your wedding night.”

All of Calder's men had come out of the Manor by then. They stood nearby, watching the exchange, their hands never far from the hilt of their swords.

“Graeham,” Calder said, “take these three and lock them up in the stables. I'll decide what to do with them later.”

Edgar and the others were dragged, none too gently, toward the stables. Calder remounted and prepared to leave, but stopped when Regan called out to him.

“Milord,” her voice was soft, with a musical lilt to it, but he could hear the fear in it as well “what if Edgar chooses not to marry me?"

“He does not have a choice in the matter,” Calder replied firmly, reining his horse about and galloping away without a backward glance.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 2

 

 

Regan hung her head as she slowly made her way back to her parents’ cottage. Rancid smoke still filled the air around the smoldering cottages, or what was left of them. She picked her way around the personal items people had been able to save from the flames that were laying on the ground. Men stood alongside their ruined homes, their faces filled with defeat and hatred. Women cried, hugging themselves; scared, angry and confused.

She was relieved to see that her parents’ cottage had survived and hurried towards it.

“Filbert, come quickly,” her mother called when she entered the cottage, easing Regan's mind as to their fate.

Filbert was quite elderly and did not move quickly, no matter what the circumstances. Her mother had already poured her a cup of tea before he reached the room.

Giving Regan a heartfelt hug, he sat down beside her and vainly tried to hold back his tears. "I was so worried about you."

His first wife had borne him four sons, none living to see adulthood. When she died, he had married Gayle, a much younger woman, hoping she would bear him many children. Instead, she was only able to produce one beautiful little daughter, whom he doted on as if such a child had never before graced a man's life.

“I'm fine, Father,” Regan said, unable to stop the trickle of tears escaping down her cheeks. “I heard the fighting and saw some of the cottages burning. I was running home when I tripped and hit my head.” Her hand, involuntarily, went up to her temple which had developed a deep, ugly bruise around the cut.

She had never lied to her father before, but certainly could not tell him all of what had happened after that.

“One of the Normans must have found me when I was unconscious and took me to the Manor. I woke there this morning and found Edgar and some of the other men standing in the Courtyard. I fear Edgar thinks I went to the Manor on my own. He seemed quite angry with me.”

“No, dear one, he is angry with the Normans, not you. It is just easier to express his anger at you. We lost many friends in yesterday's battle. And Heaven only knows what evil will befall us now that we are under the rule of these barbarians.”

He shook his head in anger and sorrow, then gave Regan a sad smile. “Do not worry, my child. Edgar will come to his senses and realize it is not you that he should be angry with. But, perhaps we should postpone the wedding for awhile, until we see how we fare with our new rulers. Mayhap, they will not be ruling us for long, after all.”

Regan looked at him in surprise, wondering if it was wishful thinking on his part, or if there would be more fighting soon. Remembering how fearsome the Normans had looked that morning, she shuddered at the thought of it.

“But, Father, the scarred warrior has already told us the wedding will take place in two days.”

“That is Calder,” her father spat, “the leader of this gang of brigands. It is his brother t'will be our new Lord.”

Then he looked over at Regan in confusion. “How did he know you were to be married?”

She blushed. “I told him this morning when we were in the courtyard with Edgar. He says that he will insist that Edgar go through with the marriage.”

“Why would that matter to a Norman dog like him?” Filbert wondered aloud, staring thoughtfully at his daughter.

“Enough already, Filbert, the girl is hurt and needs her rest. Leave her be.” Gayle hustled Regan over to her pallet and made sure she was warmly covered before kissing her on the cheek. Returning to the kitchen, she began to heat a large stone in the fire. When it was hot enough she tossed it in water and then bathed Regan's bruise. Once that was done, she made a balm of the whites of new eggs and rubbed it over the cut to help it heal quickly.

In the meantime, Filbert made his way back outside to finish the repairs on his fishing net and to ruminate about what would become of them under Norman rule.
 

 

Later, the entire village, except the men still locked in the stables, turned out for a mass burial of family and friends killed in the battle the day before. The Norman warriors kept a respectful distance away, but sat strong and proud on their destriers, ready in case the high emotions of the day should cause trouble to begin.

That evening, Calder had all of the men in the stable returned to their homes, except Edgar. He was given a loaf of bread and a flask of water, nothing else. Calder had him brought before him in the Great Hall the following morning.

Edgar was cold and hungry and miserable. The presence of the huge warriors standing on all sides of him did not make him feel any more comfortable, but he tried not to show his