One Knight's Kiss: A Medieval Romance Novella by Catherine Kean

Author:Catherine Kean [Kean, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-07T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“Lord de Bretagne has just ridden into the bailey, milady.”

“Thank you.” With a nod to the man-at-arms, who quit the hall, Lady Whitford set down the gold silk bliaut she’d been mending by the fire; the one she intended to wear on Christmas Day.

Honoria had been making centerpieces of beeswax candles, pine cones, and evergreens. She hurried to her parent’s side, sliding her arm through her mother’s as she stood.

“Guillaume always enjoys the boar hunt,” Lady Whitford said. “He will be eager to ride to the forest as soon as possible.”

Honoria smiled. “There are only two days left before Christmas.” Radley had vowed to follow the same customs as their sire when he’d become lord, and that included serving the boar’s head on a silver platter on Christmas Day.

Her mother winked as they headed for the forebuilding stairs. “The feast just wouldn’t be same without the boar, would it?”

Honoria murmured her agreement while trying not to grimace. She’d never liked the taste of roasted boar, and didn’t particularly enjoy seeing the wild pig’s head displayed with an apple in its mouth, but she understood her brother’s wish to preserve their family’s traditions.

When Honoria and her mother walked out into the chilly but sun-drenched bailey, Guillaume was standing beside his destrier and talking with Radley. When the older lord saw them, he waved and crossed to them, his hair white in the sunshine.

“Valerie, my love.”

Guillaume embraced Lady Whitford and kissed her on the lips. Honoria knew without doubt that he adored her mother. That soul-deep love lauded in the old tales was real and powerful: The kind of love Tristan wanted and that Honoria wanted too, some day.

After one more kiss, Guillaume drew back, holding her ladyship at arm’s length.

“You are well, Honoria?” he asked.

“I am.”

“She finished decorating the hall this morning,” said Lady Whitford. “It looks splendid. So does the kissing bough she and Cornelia made together.”

“Where is my daughter?” Guillaume asked.

“She complained of a headache this morning,” Honoria said. “She decided to stay abed and rest.”

“Ah. Well, please give her my regards. I will see her after the hunt.”

The clip-clop of horses’ hooves drew Honoria’s gaze to the stable. Tristan, Sydney, and several other men-at-arms had emerged, leading their mounts. Tristan made an impressive figure in his forest-green woolen cloak and knee-high boots. Catching her gaze, he nodded to her before he was lost to her view among the other riders and horses.

Memories of last night on the battlement rushed into her mind. Had Tristan wanted to kiss her? Or had she imagined his interest, her romantic soul interpreting the shadows so that she discerned hunger when in truth he didn’t care for her in that way at all?

Honoria truly did want to know how it felt to be kissed by a man, and before she turned twenty. Surely that proved she wasn’t letting life pass her by? She suddenly realized she could show Tristan how much she was taking initiative in her own life and find out how he felt about her.

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