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

he would not now change who he was and unburden himself, particularly on the shoulders of a woman.

“Everything will be fine, Regan. You must not concern yourself with anything other than getting well. I miss your company and pray you will be back by my side soon.”

Looking at him thoughtfully, realizing there was much more happening than he was letting on, she reached her hand up to his face and traced the thin scar on his cheek. Worriedly, she said, “That is my wish, as well, Milord. After all, I must fear for my son and fret over the influence of your bawdy knights on his very soul.” Then she smiled up into his stunned face. “'And I miss your smile and your touch and your conversation, most heartily, Milord.”

Calder's face softened as he stared down into her luminous green eyes, which were fixed so pointedly on his own. “God only knows what I would do if I could not have you near me, Regan. You are all that is good and true in my life and I would give my own for you, need be.”

She was surprised and touched by his words, which were spoken so fervently, and tears filled her eyes as she demanded softly, “Come, lay with me for a short while.”

He gently lowered his muscular frame onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her. Regan fell asleep a short time later, with her head resting comfortably on his chest, listening to the persistent thumping of his heart. Calder stroked her hair and studied her face as she slept. He felt so relaxed and comfortable with her in his arms that he too drifted off to sleep, able to forget for a short time the troubles and pressures still to be dealt with.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 23

 

 

Over the next few weeks, Regan slowly recovered her strength. Tension remained high between the villagers and the Normans, but there were no further altercations. No one had been restrained in the cellar since that first week. The cold, damp room, along with only bread and water to eat, made a lasting impression on those that had been there, and none of the others cared to enjoy the same discomfort.

Calder had his men on the training field daily, regardless of the weather. He realized how soft he and his men had become and was determined to remedy the situation. The uneasy feeling that had pushed him to get the castle built had lessened during the winter season, but there was still a small niggling of uneasiness that he could not rid himself of.

Besides, he and his men would be attending the tourney in London come spring and, although it was, purportedly, just fun and games, the participants knew better. Depending on the terms agreed to, a man could lose much should he be defeated, including his gear, his horse, his lands or even his life. Calder had rarely lost any contest, but he would be up against Roderick's men, and they were as underhanded and deceitful as their leader. It would not be easy to beat them, but Calder had no question in his mind that it would be done.

 

            

                  

Regan slowly made her way down the stairs with Gayle's assistance. She had insisted on getting up and dressed, although that act itself had sapped most of her strength.

She paused, with a slight smile of triumph on her lips, to catch her breath at the bottom of the stairs. Calder was sitting at the Lord's table, pouring over some papers in front of him. Wallis peered over his shoulder, pointing his finger at certain areas. She was too far away to hear their words, but could see that Wallis was very enthusiastic about the points he was trying to make.

Sighing contentedly at the sight of Calder's handsome face, she pulled her gaze from him and glanced around the rest of the Hall. Most of the knights appeared to be relaxing near the fire while the wind whipped and howled outside the Manor. She smiled as they laughed and swore quite heartily as they threw their dice, or moved their men on one of the many board games that some of them chose to play.

The smile abruptly faded from her face and her brow creased in concern when she saw Radolf. The boy was kneeling on the floor. A cloth was wrapped around his head, covering his eyes, and his hands were extended out behind him. Several of the knights took turns slapping his hands, and a large, gangly puppy barked shrilly as it ran in circles around the laughing group.

“Let the boy be,” Regan called out, anger ringing in her voice.

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and watched as Regan strode determinedly over to her son.

Radolf stared up at her in surprise as she snatched the cloth away from his eyes. “What is it, Momma?” he asked, seeing the worry on her face.

“Were these men hurting you?” she asked, with a scathing look at the knights who had been striking him. They, in turn, stared shamefully at the floor, shuffling their feet and refusing to meet her eyes, which were snapping in fury.

Radolf just giggled. “No, Momma. We're playing a game.”

“A game?” was her incredulous reply.

“Yes, Milady,” one of the knights answered in relief. “Hot cockles.”

“Hot cockles? The game is to strike my child for the fun of it?” Her brittle tone left no doubt as to her opinion of such a game.

“Yes, Regan,” Calder replied, from very close behind her. “It is very popular among the men and Radolf asked to join them. It was his turn to guess which of them slapped his hand. If he guesses correctly, he wins a ha'penny.”

Feeling her face begin to flush, she looked up into Calder's eyes, which were sparkling with amusement. “Radolf, stop the pup from yapping so,” Calder instructed, giving Regan a chance to recover from her embarrassment.

“I apologize,” she said quietly to the knights, who were still standing uncomfortably in front of her. “I did not realize it was a game.”

She twisted her hands together, suddenly feeling foolish and unsure of herself amidst the large, fearsome men.

“No harm done, Milady,” Garrick said warmly, hoping to ease her discomfiture.

The knights were aware of her situation with Calder but, unlike the villagers, were delighted about it. Their leader had never had a woman around long enough to give him any comfort and, even though she was a Saxon, they were able to see how much this wench meant to him. For that reason alone, they would treat her with the utmost respect and protect her with their life, if need be.

“Come, sit with me,” Calder said gently, taking her arm and leading her to his table.

Wallis hastily collected the plans for the castle that he had been going over with Calder. “Good day, Mistress Regan,” he said politely.

“Come back with the drawings this evening and we will finish our discussion,” Calder ordered, dismissing him.

“Please, Calder, don't let me interrupt your business,” Regan said worriedly.

“It is no problem. Both Wallis and I need a break from it anyway. We've been pouring over the damn plans all morning.” He rubbed his eyes wearily, and then offered her some wine.

“No, thank you, Milord. Are the plans for the castle coming along well then?”

“Wallis has a fine mind and has come up with some very interesting ideas. Now we are trying to figure out best how to implement them. The weather will be improving soon, so we need to get a better idea of what our first steps will be. It is a slow, tedious process, but we are making some headway on it. But, what of you? You must be feeling a great deal better.”

“Oh, yes, Milord. I tire easily still, but I couldn't bear to lie abed one more minute.”

“You mustn't try to do too much too soon, you know.” Pulling his chair up close beside hers, he added, “I've never had such a scare as you gave me. I couldn't bear it if you fell ill again.”

Smiling tenderly, she said, “Please accept my apologies, Milord. I will certainly be more cautious in the future.”

“I would appreciate that,” he answered, with a slight nod of his head and a sardonic grin on his face.

She reluctantly pulled her eyes away from his magnetic blue ones and turned to watch Radolf play. He was wrestling now with one of the massive knights, laughing and giggling as they tossed and turned around the floor of the Hall, the puppy nipping at both of them all the while.

“It seems that RadoIf has made himself some friends,” she said, her heart swelling at the sound of his gaiety while he played.

“Yes,” Calder replied dryly. “I'm just not sure if the men felt he needed to be taken under their wings, or if they use him as an excuse to act as children themselves.”

He shook his head in mock dismay as Garrett wailed in pain. Having been knocked away from the boy by Holt, his momentum caused him to crash into a nearby table, shaking everything and spilling the contents of cups and pitchers along the length of it.

The puppy gave up chewing various body parts on the players and hastily ran over to lick up the spilt ale. Having cleaned up as much as he could before being booted out of the way, he then proceeded to spend the next several minutes endlessly chasing his tail. He finally gave up and plopped down in an exhausted heap in front of the fire.

Smothering a laugh, Regan turned back to Calder. “Will it be alright if he returns here occasionally to spend some time with his new friends?”

Calder's brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, return here?”

“I am almost well, Milord. RadoIf and I will have to return to our cottage soon.”

“No.”

“No, what?” she asked, her voice quavering slightly, a sliver of fear creeping into her heart at the thought that he might try to keep her son, their son, from her.

“Neither of you will be