Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2016-11-21T18:00:00+00:00

ONE KNIGHT’S KISS

CHAPTER ELEVEN

December 24

Honoria opened the shutters at her chamber window to reveal a gray, overcast sky. She shivered in the frigid breeze and hoped that today, Christmas Eve, would be much better than yesterday, when Cornelia had avoided Honoria. At mealtimes, the younger woman had sat with her father at the opposite end of the table to Honoria and had left the hall as soon as the meal was finished, instead of staying to chat or embroider by the hearth.

Earlier yesterday, Radley had ridden off with several guards to settle grievances between two farmers with neighboring lands, and hadn’t returned until late afternoon. Radley had assigned a man-at-arms to care for Tristan’s wound, so Honoria had wrapped the gifts she’d purchased in pieces of linen and tied them with twine, and had spent the afternoon with her mother. Tristan had rested in bed most of the day, but had kept her and her mother company by the fire in the evening. While he hadn’t mentioned kissing again, and neither had Honoria, the memory of their stolen intimacy had glinted in his eyes when their gazes had met. Sitting near him had made her feel alive with a glorious awareness she’d struggled to contain.

But she had. Kissing Tristan had caused tremendous upheaval. After being awake most of last night thinking about the situation, Honoria still wasn’t sure what to do about it. Mayhap a morning walk would enlighten her.

Honoria fastened her cloak and headed to the bailey. She passed under the kissing bough, hanging from the archway separating the hall from the forebuilding stairs down to the bailey, on the way. No else was coming or going at the same moment, though, so no berries were picked or kisses were stolen—although some obviously had been, likely by the servants, because there were fewer berries than before.

Outside, a line of peasants bringing their rents ran underneath the gatehouse and across the lowered drawbridge. Radley was greeting the visitors, shaking hands and ruffling children’s hair, just like their late sire had done. She smiled wistfully, for in so many ways, Radley was like their father.

There seemed to be more men-at-arms on duty at the gatehouse and in the bailey, however, than usual on Christmas Eve. Surely Radley didn’t expect fights or thievery among the peasants? Or was there another reason for the increase in guards?

“I think he enjoys meeting his tenants,” said a male voice. She turned to see Tristan walking toward her with only the slightest limp.

“I believe he does, too. How is your wound?” ’Twas a good sign that he was dressed and didn’t feel the need to stay abed.

“My thigh still hurts, but ’tis less painful than yesterday,” he said. “Thanks, no doubt, to your fine stitches and that smelly but effective salve.”

She laughed.

“Ah. There is the smile I was hoping to see.”

Honoria sobered. Wishing she didn’t ache inside, she looked back at the folk.

“Cornelia will come around, you will see.” Tristan had obviously noticed the younger woman’s behavior yesterday.

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