A Knight's Honor Page 5

  "Sir Knight," she cried. "Please. I know not what is happening to me."

  "Trust me," he grunted. "I will not leave you wanting."

  He continued thrusting and retreating, driving her, pushing her until she could stand it no longer. Pressure built; and then it happened. Her muscles contracted, she spasmed, heat flooded her core, and she screamed. He

  continued pumping into her, panting, crying out as he emptied himself inside her.

  Naught but harsh breathing filled the chamber. While Falcon had a vague memory of having lain with other women, he knew that what he and Mariah had just expe­rienced was unique and precious.

  Mariah stirred beneath him. Fearing he was crushing her, he pulled out and settled beside her.

  "That was ... I cannot describe it," Mariah murmured. "I have never felt anything like that before in my life. What did you do?"

  "You are very good for my pride, lady," Falcon said, grinning. "I made love to you. When you mated with your husband, did he give you no pleasure?"

  Mariah shook her head.

  "Then he did not deserve you," Falcon observed. "I am glad I am the first to unleash your passion."

  Falcon thought she looked so adorable all rumpled, her lips swollen from his kisses, that he wanted her again. He decided he must have been without a woman a very long time to be so greedy, and so ready.

  He turned Mariah toward him; she went willingly into his arms. Then he began to make love to her again, using his hands, his mouth and his lips to arouse her. When he lifted her on top of him and told her to ride him, he knew by her puzzled expression that this, too, was another plea­sure her husband had denied her.

  "Ride you?"

  He spread her legs so that she straddled him. Then he lifted her slightly and pushed her down onto his swollen cock. She gasped. He smiled. Grasping her buttocks, he began to move her up and down until she learned the

  rhythm. She proved an apt pupil. Soon she was riding him like a bucking bronco, bringing them both to a shattering climax.

  After that they slept. Mariah woke to the church bell announcing Lauds. Sir Knight was sleeping soundly be­side her. She studied his face in the flickering candlelight, wondering how many women he had made love to before learning to do it so well. She smiled. Asleep, he looked very young and very vulnerable.

  But he was a strong man. He had survived injuries that lesser men would have succumbed to. And she knew— knew—he would hate her if he learned she had lied to him and used him. Edwina had predicted a son would come of her coupling with Sir Knight, but if it did not, she would always have this night to remember. And God will­ing, there would be other nights like this one before Sir Knight left.

  Mariah rose without waking him, donned her dis­carded robe and returned to the solar. Edmond was still sleeping. She wasn't going to tell him about this night, or any others that might follow. Only if she conceived would she confess her sin. Until then, she fully intended to savor the pleasure Sir Knight gave her.

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  Falcon began to feel as if he belonged at Mildenhall. Dur­ing the day he trained with Mildenhall's knights, proving his worth as an experienced swordsman. He ate all his meals at the high table with Mariah and either played chess or just conversed with Lord Edmond when the old man felt up to it. But the nights belonged solely to him and Mariah.

  She came to him at Matins, sometimes left at Lauds,

  but more often than not lay with him until Prime, when the castle inhabitants began to stir. As far as Falcon was aware, no one knew about their nightly trysts. The passion he and Mariah shared within his chamber was without compare. The only thing stopping him from asking her to wed him was his lack of memory.

  One night, as Mariah lay sated in his arms, he couldn't recall how long he had been Lord Edmond's guest and asked Mariah.

  She thought a moment, and then said, "You were brought here on a Saturday, the day cotters bring produce to the castle. Since then, four Saturdays have come and gone."

  Falcon reared up. "That means I've been here well over thirty days. Has no one come looking for me?"

  "Nay, but we are a remote holding and seldom have visitors."

  "Has no one heard rumors about a missing knight?"

  "If they have, word hasn't reached us yet. Are you so anxious to leave us?"

  "I need to know who I am and where I belong, Mariah."

  The conversation came to an abrupt halt when Falcon turned to Mariah and began making love to her. Thinking about his missing past made him edgy and uncomfort­able, but making love to Mariah made him forget for a short time that he was a man with no name, no past and no future.

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  Two days later, Falcon was heading out to the training field with his borrowed sword when Mariah intercepted him. "You've been training every day. Would you like to do something different today?"

  He sent her a lopsided grin. "That depends on what you have in mind."

  She laughed. "Behave, Sir Knight. Come with me to the mews. You haven't visited there yet."

  A buzzing began in Falcon's head. "The mews?"

  They turned in the direction Mariah indicated. "You haven't seen Edmond's falcons. He takes great pride in them. I thought we might take them out today. There's a peregrine Edmond is particularly fond of. He used to love to hunt. Do you—"

  Falcon stopped in his tracks. The buzzing in his head grew louder, and devils began dancing in his brain. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the pain.

  "Sir Knight, what is wrong? Are you ill?"

  Falcon stared at Mariah. "What did you call me?"

  "Sir Knight. 'Tis what I always call you."

  The buzzing turned into a roar. Holding his head, he fell to his knees. His breath seized, and in that breathless moment he remembered his name and everything else about himself.

  Mariah dropped down beside him. "Shall I summon Edwina, Sir Knight?"

  He looked up at her, unfocused, disoriented. But out of the pain came illumination. "Do not call me Sir Knight. I have a name."

  Air exploded from Mariah's lungs. "What just hap­pened?"

  He rose slowly, shakily. "I know who I am. I remember everything. The attack, where I was headed and where I had come from. I am one of King Henry's knights. I fought with him in France and earned his praise. My name is Falcon of Gaveston and ... and... God's teeth! My betrothed is waiting for me in London. We were to be wed over a fortnight ago. I must bid your father good-bye and leave immediately. Pray God Rosamond is still wait­ing for me."

  Stricken, Mariah searched his face for a hint of the man she knew as Sir Knight, her lighthearted lover. But that man was gone, replaced by a stranger. The moment he had remembered his name and past, his face had changed, hardened. He had his own life and purpose now, and she meant naught to him.

  Not that she ever could have been anything to him. She had Edmond, and Falcon had Rosamond.

  "You must love Rosamond very much," Mariah dared.

  Falcon shrugged. "I hardly know her. The king chose her for me as payment for my years of faithful service to England. He promised to find me a wife who would bring me land and wealth. As third son, I've had to make my own way in life. The only way I can have enough money to provide for a family is to marry an heiress. Rosamond is perfect for me."

  He turned to leave, unaware of Mariah's breaking heart. She followed him into the hall and trailed him up the stairs to the solar. They found Edmond sitting in a chair near the window, a blanket tucked around his legs.

  "Mariah, Sir Knight, how did you know I was lonely? Sit down and make an old man happy."

  "I know who I am," Falcon said without preamble.

  Edmond stared into Falcon's eyes. "Aye, I can see a difference in you. Pray, do not keep me in suspense."

  "I am Sir Falcon of Gaveston. My father is the Earl of Gaveston. I am a knight
in King Henry's service."

  Edmond stroked his chin. "I should have known you

  were one of Gaveston's lads by the color of your eyes. I've always admired your father's golden tiger eyes. I knew him many years ago."

  "Sir Falcon is betrothed, and his bride-to-be is waiting for him in London," Mariah revealed. "He is anxious to leave."

  "We will miss you, Sir Falcon," Edmond said sadly. "Feel free to bring your bride to Mildenhall for a visit. Mariah will make you both welcome, will you not, my dear?"

  One look at Mariah was all it took to remind Falcon of what he was leaving behind. He would never forget their nights of unbridled passion, the closeness that had grown between them. But as much as he might desire it, he could not remain at Mildenhall now that he knew where he be­longed and with whom. He would always remember Mariah. How could he forget her? If not for his commit­ment to Rosamond and the king, he could remain here forever and be happy.

  But his duty lay in another direction, and he never shirked his duty. "May I borrow a horse, my lord?"

  "Of course, take any mount you fancy. Consider it a gift"

  "Thank you. Mariah, might I have a private word with you?"

  Mariah followed him out the door and into the corridor. "I'm sorry, Mariah."

  "Don't be," she said brightly. "I knew you would regain your memory one day. As your body healed, so did your mind. Now you know where you belong, and it isn't here."

  How could she sound so cheerful when it was killing

  him to bid her good-bye? "I will never forget you. I will always think of you with affection." He brushed a tear from her cheek.

  "We were never meant to be, Falcon. You have your life and I have mine."

  "I'd best be on my way."

  "Aye. I wish you and your betrothed many years of happiness."

  He stroked her cheek with the back of her hand and then let his arm drop back to his side. Mariah wanted to cringe away. His touch felt like that of a stranger, even though she knew him as intimately as a woman can know a man.

  "Farewell, Sir Falcon."

  Falcon stared at her for the length of a heartbeat, and then walked away. He wanted to kiss her good-bye but knew it wouldn't be the right thing to do. Everything had changed the moment he reclaimed his identity. Falcon of Gaveston had had many women, he remembered that. But Mariah was more than just a woman he had bedded and discarded. Mariah was ...

  A woman he had to forget if he hoped for happiness with Rosamond.

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  London hadn't changed in his absence, Falcon thought as he entered the city. He headed directly to Whitehall, ex­pecting to find Rosamond waiting for him. The first person who recognized Falcon nearly fainted at the sight of him.

  "You're supposed to be dead," Sir Albert Melrose croaked when he recovered his aplomb. "We searched for you from Norwich to London and back again. Where have you been?"

  "Lost in a fog," Falcon said dryly. Falcon and Sir Al­bert were comrades in arms but had never been friends. The knight was too full of himself for Falcon's liking. "I'll explain after I see the king."

  "You'll have to go to France to see him," Sir Albert replied. "He left with his army two days ago."

  "Why are you still here?"

  He sent Falcon a sly smile. "I just recently married. The king gave me leave to escort my wife back to our es­tate. I plan to join him in France at a later date."

  Apprehension churned in Falcon's gut. "What lady did you wed? Do I know her?"

  "Aye, my bride is Rosamond of Norwich."

  Falcon glared at him, his face stony, his eyes darkening from gold to murky brown. A muscle at his temple twitched, the only sign that he'd heard Sir Albert's words. "You lie!" he hissed. "Rosamond is my betrothed."

  "You're supposed to be dead, remember? Once me search was called off, I offered for her and her father ac­cepted. You're not the only knight who longs for a piece of England to call his own. My bloodlines are as good as yours; the Earl of Norwich saw no reason to return home without a husband for his daughter and asked Henry to sanction the marriage."

  Falcon lunged at him. He might have killed Sir Albert had Rosamond not appeared at that moment. "What are you doing to my husband? Take your hands off him, sir!"

  Falcon turned at the sound of her voice. Rosamond staggered backward. "Falcon! This cannot be. You are dead."

  Falcon gave her a mocking bow. "As you can see, my lady, my death was grossly exaggerated."

  Beyond speech, Rosamond merely stared at him.

  "What happened to you?" Sir Albert asked, keeping well out of Falcon's reach.

  "I was attacked by bandits and left for dead. I awoke hours later at Mildenhall Castle, severely injured and without a memory."

  "Mildenhall Castle? I've never heard of it," Albert mused.

  " 'Tis off the beaten path, but it could have been found had the search for me been more thorough. Who was in charge of discovering my whereabouts?"

  Albert cleared his throat. "I was. After a sennight, we concluded that you had been attacked by bandits after you left Norwich. We believed you'd been slain, and your body devoured by wild animals."

  "How convenient for you," Falcon sneered.

  "Even the king was convinced you were dead," Rosa­mond interjected.

  Falcon's gaze sought his former betrothed. "Did you even wait a sennight to marry after I went missing? Did you even mourn me?"

  "Pray do not speak to my wife in such a demeaning manner," Albert charged. "If you wish to challenge me, do so and I will select my seconds."

  Falcon's mouth settled into a grim line. "I will not lower myself by dueling over a faithless damsel. I will leave immediately to join the king in France."

  Turning on his heel, Falcon strodeoff, hurt and disillu­sioned by the shabby treatment he had received from his king and his friends. He no longer had a betrothed; the land he had been promised had been yanked from under him by a quirk of fate. He felt lost and without direction.

  Briefly he considered returning to Mildenhall and claiming Mariah. But he discarded the notion as soon as it was born. He could not offer for any woman; he had naught to offer. Furthermore, he suddenly realized that he was fiercely angry at the Earl of Mildenhall and his daughter. Why hadn't Lord Edmond sent someone to London to find out if a knight had been reported missing? The earl's failure to do so was unforgivable. Falcon had lost a wife and an estate because of Edmond and Mariah's negligence.

  Falcon left Whitehall, fury and disappointment burn­ing deep in his gut. He had a great deal to accomplish be­fore he sailed to France. He had to let his family know that he was alive, and after that, he needed to collect his squire, who had charge of his war chest, and find out if he had enough money to outfit himself for battle.

  Rosamond and Albert could go to the devil, for all he cared. What he yearned for now was a sword in his hand and someone to fight until the anger drained out of him.

  Chapter 4

  London, five years later

  The court at Whitehall had been in a jubilant mood since a victorious Henry and his army had returned from France two months earlier. With the forces of the French King Charles VI defeated, the triumphant Henry had forced Charles to recognize him as his heir. That had been a great day for England, a cause for prolonged celebration.

  But once King Henry returned to London, he immedi­ately became immersed in affairs of state. Petitions awaited him, many too complex to act upon without fur­ther investigation. To those petitions Henry assigned ad­visors to act in his stead. After giving one such petition considerable thought, he sent for Sir Falcon of Gaveston.

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  When Falcon received word that the king wanted to see him, he hoped the reason was that Henry had found an­other heiress for him to wed. Five years hadn't erased the bitterness he harbored at losing Rosamond and her lands />
  to Sir Albert. And it still rankled that his supposed death had been so easily accepted by everyone, even his family.

  Nor had Falcon forgiven Lord Edmond and his daugh­ter for neglecting to seek information about him when he turned up at Mildenhall without a memory. But much could be forgotten and forgiven if Henry found him an­other heiress. Falcon still yearned for land to call his own, but only the king could grant it.

  Falcon paused before the king's privy chamber to com­pose his thoughts and slow his racing heart. He hadn't felt this kind of excitement since he'd helped Henry win French lands for England. There was still more to be ac­complished, but for the time being, the battles were over.

  A guard opened the door; Falcon strode inside. He found Henry alone with his secretary.

  "Ah, Falcon, come in, come in."

  Falcon approached the king and bowed. "You wished to see me, sire?"

  "Aye." Henry gestured toward a chair. "Sit down; you tower over me like some great bird of prey."

  Falcon perched on the edge of a chair, too nervous to be comfortable. Though he knew the king well, he felt more at ease riding beside him in battle than sitting be­side him in his royal chamber.

  "As you know," Henry began, "I have been inundated with petitions and matters of state since my return."

  "I am well aware of your duties to the Crown, Your Majesty."

  "Aye, and it just so happens that you can help me."

  "Me, sire?"

  "Indeed. In fact, I can think of no one more suited to handle this particular matter for me."

  Falcon's spirits fell. "I thought... I hoped you had found an heiress for me."

  Henry dismissed Falcon's words with a wave of his hand. "I am still assembling a list of eligible heiresses for you to choose from. While the search continues, a matter at Mildenhall needs attention—attention I have scant time to devote myself to at this time."

  Falcon's heart pumped furiously. "Mildenhall, sire?"

  "Aye. I remembered that you are familiar with Mildenhall and its inhabitants and thought of you imme­diately. I want you to go to Mildenhall and investigate a problem that has arisen there. You are to act as my sur­rogate and have the power to resolve the problem as you see fit. I will not dispute your decision, however you de­cide."