The Knight's Return Read online

  She blinked fast and this time he saw the tears she had hidden from him before. But they were the most beautiful happy tears he’d ever seen.

  He swiped one away with his thumb.

  “I would have no other man for his father.” Her voice wobbled, but her smile never wavered.

  “Come,” he urged her, opening the door to a future they had earned together. “Let us begin anew.”

  Epilogue

  Sorcha’s third wedding outshone the first two, her happiness radiating from her like a light from within.

  Music swelled in the courtyard as the dancing began after a meal more lavish than any she’d ever enjoyed. Bells and flutes trilled their song into the warm breeze as the musicians found their rhythm, and Sorcha contemplated the way her joy overflowed. Perhaps her guests could not see it, but she felt it from the moment the king had declared her union sacred.

  Nay. The glow within began when Hugh had sealed his promise upon her lips with a kiss witnessed by hundreds of villagers, a full contingent of knights and a royal retinue. The kiss had been one of love and not duty, the kind of magical moment she had dreamed about since she’d been a lonely little girl and her father had filled her head with romantic visions of the abiding love he’d shared with the most beautiful woman in the world—Sorcha’s own mother.

  Sorcha’s heart had searched for that kind of love all her life, and at last she had found it with Hugh de Montaigne. He caught her eye from his place near the minstrels now, his handsome face lit with pleasure and more than a little hunger for her.

  She could not wait for their wedding night. They would make love, safe in their new home. Secure in their new trust for one another and the promise of forever.

  “Sister,” Onora whispered at her elbow suddenly, tugging Sorcha away from a table full of flower chaplets one of the villager girls had made for the day’s event. “I need your assistance.”

  Sorcha tore her eyes away from her husband to focus on Onora, knowing the glow of happiness in her heart was not going anywhere. She could spare her guests—and especially her beloved sibling—a little of her time.

  “Aye?” Sorcha hugged Onora, grateful she could be here today after they had been separated for so long. “How can I help?”

  Onora grinned, her blue eyes dancing merrily as her dark hair glimmered under the strong sunlight.

  “You can introduce me to yonder knight.” She pointed toward a tall, exceedingly handsome gentleman dressed in the rich fabrics of someone with noble standing.

  The man spoke to a friend close to his own age, but he glanced up once as if seeking someone—only to find Onora in the crowd.

  The look they exchanged told Sorcha all she needed to know, and it gladdened her heart all the more.

  “I do not know him, but I will speak to Hugh about him at once.” Thrilled to have an excuse to steal away Hugh from the crowd if only for a few moments, Sorcha brushed a kiss along her sister’s cheek. “I will be back in but a moment.”

  Hastening toward the minstrels where she’d last spotted Hugh, Sorcha was stopped twice by well-wishers who wanted to welcome their lady to Edenrock. She promised to visit them both in the coming weeks, for she had vowed to herself that she would be an industrious lady who was no stranger to the men and women who served the keep.

  For now, however, she kept her eye on the prize—her strong and noble protector. The man who wanted to call Conn his own.

  “My lady.” He bowed politely to her as she approached, although his eyes told her he’d rather wrap her in his arms.

  “My lord.” She dipped her knee in equally polite greeting. “May I speak with you a moment?”

  He wasted no time in spiriting her away from the crowd. They ducked behind the raised platform where the minstrels performed a merry tune. Hugh tugged her past a fire pit where a few old men took refuge to play dice. They raised their drinking cups to the new lord as the pair dashed alongside a storage shed for wood that served the hall hearth.

  Pressing her up against the unforgiving plank wall, Hugh kissed her. Sorcha’s senses ignited, her arms winding about his neck as she gave herself to him.

  Strong hands clamped her hips, drawing her close. His lips lingered over hers as if they had all the time in the world.

  She would have liked nothing better than to lose herself in the moment, but she mustered all her restraint to break free. It took a long moment to catch her breath, but when the capacity for speech returned, she shook a chiding finger at him.

  “What happened to the man who would not keep his wedding guests waiting?” She recalled those moments before their nuptials when he refused to delay their vows for the sake of kisses.

  “It was the king I would not keep waiting. And now that he has seen us wed, I doubt we interest him overmuch.” He brushed his jaw along her cheek, his thigh pressing hers. “We have earned a few moments alone.”

  Her heart picked up speed.

  “I fear if we indulge more than a few moments, we will be in no condition to return to the feast.” The chaplet of flowers perched on her head was already sliding sideways. “And I have a favor to ask of you before we—retire.”

  Hugh straightened.

  “Name it.”

  Oh, but she would enjoy this marriage if that was his response to her requests. Not that she anticipated many wishes that hadn’t already been met simply by becoming his wife. His love.

  “I would like you to tell me if a certain gentleman would suit my sister, and if so, perhaps you would introduce them?” Sorcha tugged him back toward the fire pit where the drinking old men hardly noticed them. Or perhaps they were too discreet to pay them any mind. “He’s over there.”

  She pointed out the well-dressed gentleman.

  “Ah.” Hugh grinned. “Your father would approve, you can be sure.”

  “Really?” Sorcha had thought of her sire more than once today, hoping he would forgive her fully when he heard that she’d been wed by King Henry himself.

  “Young Niall has lands to the north and his mother is as Irish as yours, for one thing. He will not support any Norman invasion of Connacht.”

  “No?” Sorcha realized his answer did not address her biggest concern. “But is he—kind?”

  Hugh peered back at her, his eyes glowing with good humor. In fact, she thought she spied the same radiance she felt inside this day.

  “If he is worthy of his noble birth, he was probably born with a sword in hand and has killed men in battle. But if you’re asking about his disposition toward women, I can only say I have not heard anyone speak ill of him.”

  “I cannot wait to tell Onora.” She squeezed Hugh’s arm. “How about if you introduce them and then we can take our leave for the night?”

  Hugh peered up at the sky meaningfully. “Before nightfall?”

  Lifting up on her toes, she kissed him full on the mouth, not caring if the old men could still see. She put all of her desires into that kiss, determined to have Hugh to herself soon.

  “Aye.” He broke off the kiss, his word raspy with want. “Before nightfall. But you should know that a message came for you a short while ago.”

  “For me?” Confused, Sorcha wondered who would know to send her tidings on her wedding day when it had been so hastily arranged.

  “Here.” He thrust a scroll into her palm. “One of the minstrels is from Connacht. He arrived a fortnight after we did.”

  Recognizing the unbroken seal upon the stiff parchment, Sorcha’s gaze sought Hugh’s.

  “It’s from Father.”

  Hugh nodded. “I considered waiting to give it to you until after the wedding in case he demands we send Onora back. But as I will not bend to his wishes where she is concerned, I hope whatever he says cannot distress you.”

  She appreciated his thoughtful concern and hastened to break the seal on the letter. As she unrolled the parchment, she angled it between them so they could both read.

  My daughter,

  It is with a grateful heart that
I write to thank you for protecting your sister against a threat I did not perceive. After witnessing her betrothed upon the battlefield, I saw a man with a taste for bloodlust that turned many a stalwart warrior’s stomach. I would have regretted submitting any daughter of mine to such a match.

  To be sure, I did not think any of the suitors I suggested for you were such men. But I forgive you for acting on your own view. I did not raise you to sit idly in the hall when the fate of the realm was discussed, so I should not have been surprised that you did not sit idly by when I decided your fate for you.

  You have my blessing. Onora has my blessing. I pray God blesses you both with happiness and many children. Perhaps you will find it in your heart to send one or two of them back to the land of their grandfather one day, as I have kingdom to bestow. No Norman bastard—begging your husband’s pardon—will take it from me any time soon.

  Father

  “Oh!” With a cry, Sorcha clutched the note to her heart. Overwhelmed, she ducked her head against Hugh’s surcoat and realized that tears were streaming fast from her eyes.

  “But it is good news, is it not?” Hugh wrenched her away from him and tipped her chin up to study her face. “All is forgiven. And you don’t need to send him any of our babes if you do not wish it.”

  A laugh slipped free as her emotions spilled over.

  “It is only good news. And we have many years to decide if we can part with any child for a summer or two.” She could not imagine fostering her sons or daughters, but oh sweet merciful heaven, she liked the idea that her father cared enough to want his family around him.

  The days of exile were well and truly behind her.

  “I do owe your father a great deal,” Hugh admitted, stroking a fingertip over the tender fullness of her lower lip.

  “He did not even mention helping us with a dowry for Onora. And you’ll recall the wily old king robbed you of your rightful treasure after you watched over me,” she reminded him, tucking the letter from her father under her girdle so she could share it with Onora.

  “Be that as it may,” he said as he guided her back into the festivities where dancers spun and dipped their way through the steps of a round, “he gave me the only treasure worth having.”

  Her heart full of love and thankfulness, Sorcha pulled her warrior husband into the dance, her feet as light as her cares. She would be sure Onora had her introduction and that she greeted all the lovely people who had welcomed her into her new home. But for just a few moments more, she planned to revel in the pleasure of knowing that for this moment, everything in her world was just exactly right.

  * * * * *

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  “I’m the illegitimate daughter of notoriously scandalous parents, Mr. Milford. Candidates for my hand are unlikely to be lining up at the gates.”

  “Don’t be so quick to discount your charms, my dear. Or the charm of your substantial dowry. Or even your brothers’ influence. There are as many reasons to marry as there are marriages.”

  Annalise snorted. “Oh, yes. Perhaps I shall marry for dynastic reasons, or perhaps for property or influence. After all, a loveless, practical marriage worked out so well for my mother.”

  “Well, you’ve routed me on that one. I can think of no suitable rejoinder.” Ned rose to his feet and extended his hand. “And since that is the case, let me be the first to wish you a long and happy spinsterhood.”

  Her mouth gaped open. And then she laughed.

  And he froze.

  This was the first time, Ned realized. The first time he’d seen her eyes light up and her mouth curl. The first time he’d witnessed her features melded together in glorious accord to produce exquisite beauty.

  Unbelievable what a change came over her face. Unheard of what effect her throaty, rasping laughter had on his body.

  It pounded a beat upon his ear, quickly taken up by his pulse. It echoed through him, finally residing in his stirring nether regions.

  So easily she did it, awakened these sensations within him—without any apparent effort at all. And she had called him potentially dangerous? Clearly the intelligent thing for him to do would be to steer clear, to leave her to the tender ministrations of Lord Peter Blackthorne.

  “You were right.” She smiled up at him as she took his hand and climbed to her feet. “I do feel better.”

  Ah, well. When had he ever chosen the intelligent path?

  He did not relinquish her hand. He used it to pull her in, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her. “At the risk of repeating Lord Peter’s mistake and anticipating too much—may I ask if you’ll be my partner in battledore tomorrow?”

  Her smile dimmed. Her breath came a little faster. His own had gone shallow, as if he’d just run a race—and lost. He ran his gaze over the appealing lift of her brow and the curious angle of her chin. His index finger twitched.

  “I should like that,” she said.

  His finger trembled again and he lifted it, traced the pink and tender shell of her ear, the unique sweep of her jaw. Her pulse leaped beneath her skin, triggering his own. Slowly he tilted her chin up, waiting for her to object, to step back, to slap his hand away.

  She did none of those eminently sensible things. Which left him free to do the entirely impractical thing.

  Baby soft, the skin of her lips. Her whole body trembled when he touched her there.

  He leaned in. Her eyes closed, even as she stood straight against him, strung as tight as a bow. He pressed his mouth to hers. It was a soft kiss, sweet and chaste. And yet he was hot and hard and as ready as he’d ever been in his life.

  She drew back a little. Sighed. Their breath mingled a moment before she slowly backed away.

  “Oh,” she breathed. Her dark eyes were full of wonder and something that looked like fear. He took a step toward her, but she only shook her head. His outstretched hand fell to his side as she turned to disappear into the wood. This was the first time, Ned realized. The first time, since he’d come to the house party at Welbourne Manor, that he’d seen her eyes light up.

  * * * * *

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  available May 2009 from Harlequin® Historical.

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  The Knight’s Return

  © 2009 Joanne Rock

  ISBN: 9780373295425

  HARLEQUIN

  Ed♥n