Joanna Davis - Knights In Shining Armor Read online

  Haven

  By

  Joanna Davis

  Copyright © 2014 by Joanna Davis

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2014

  Pincushion Press

  http://pincushionpress.tumblr.com/

  For Han

  Chapters

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  1329

  Running.

  The girl was running blindly through the dark woods. All she could see or sense were the vague shadows of the trees immediately in front of her. Behind her, someone was calling her name.

  She was exhausted, having been on her feet for the better part of a day without food or drink. Going home would mean that she could rest at last. Maybe they'd even give her something to eat before her punishment began. She nearly gave in and let them catch her at the thought. What relief it would be to just give in and go back. To let them lift her up and carry her home.

  Home.

  The word was foul to her now. Less than a year ago she would have gladly run back to her home. In fact, she never would have left. But that place no longer existed.

  She shrieked as strong arms closed around her and a man's voice spoke softly in her ear.

  "There now my lady. Where do you think you are going?"

  One

  Five years later

  Rowan stared up at the fortress above him. The high stone walls were well kept. The gate strong. No man would gain entry without invitation.

  Good.

  Beyond the walls stood a castle that was nearly 200 year old. A high tower provided a unparalleled place to keep watch and the parapets would be easily guarded by soldiers. The smooth gray stone soared gracefully into the sky. Fairhaven was rich with history and like the wall, had withstood the test of time.

  It was a fine castle. And it was his by order of the King.

  The inhabitants just didn't know it yet.

  Like his father and grandfather before him, Edward III intended to subdue to Scottish people. The placement of Fairhaven made it an ideal location from which to keep a firm eye on the Scotts and the vulnerable Eastern Coast. During Edward's campaign against Scotland, Rowan had made himself indispensable to the young King. Now Rowan was the one Edward trusted to oversee the region while the King was readying for war with France.

  Plus there was that other matter that the King intended to reward him with…

  Emeline.

  A guard peered out over the top of the gate at Rowan and his men.

  "And what might your business be?"

  Kenneth looked to Rowan. He nodded, given his second in command permission to speak on his behalf.

  "This is Captain Hawthorne. The King has made him warden of this provence and awarded him the title Lord Of Fairhaven and castle herein. You will address him as Lord Fairhaven."

  The guard stared down at him, non plussed. Clearly they were not expecting him. He had assumed some notice had been sent ahead to the lady of the house at least. Rowan frowned. Was she going to be as surprised by his arrival?

  The guard disappeared without a word, causing Rowan's men to roll their eyes. Battle hardened men, they were unaccustomed to waiting for anything. They simply took it. Unless of course, he ordered them not to. He had earned their unwavering loyalty time and again. They liked to win, and he had an uncanny knack for victory. Not to mention keeping them alive.

  Rowan looked through his visor at the castle, feeling his blood surge. It was nearly time to collect his reward for his unwavering service to the Crown. He'd started as the lowest of foot soldiers under Edward II's reign. Only through dint of hard work and a remarkable talent with the sword had he risen far enough to grasp what had eluded him so many years before.

  She was inside there somewhere.

  Emeline had been iressistable to him once. All flashing green eyes and dark silky hair. Her curvaceous figure had caused far more mature and disciplined soldiers to loose their step while marching. But if they caught a glimpse of that face, with her high round cheeks, sweetly upturned nose and cupids bow mouth… they'd been lost. Add to that a sparkling wit and unquenchable zest for life and she was incomparable to other women. As a green boy, he'd hardly stood a chance.

  He wondered idly what she looked like now. It had been a long time since he'd seen her last. Much had happened. He'd risen among the ranks of the King's soldiers at an astounding speed. And she'd been here. With him.

  Her husband.

  Five years of marriage. Marriage to another man. A richer man. She'd cavalierly promised herself to a foolish young soldier and then betrayed him without a moment's hesitation when a better offer had come along. Now the tables were turned and she was at his mercy. The irony wasn't lost on him. He didn't plan on making things easy for her. She would reap what she had sowed, and then some.

  Through an incredible twist of fate, Rowan Hawthorne, the boy she'd cast aside without a backward glance, was now her lord and master. He owned everything that had once been her husbands, and following the old Lord Fairhaven's death, was briefly hers. It made his lips twitch a bit, thinking about having her under his thumb.

  Fate was a cruel mistress, especially for a woman such as she with no one to champion her.

  He smiled grimly at he thought.

  The wheel had turned.

  **********

  Emeline stared down at the men outside. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, twisting her necklace in her hand before pulling her hood lower to conceal her face. It was always better to hide her face when meeting strangers.

  "Hawthorne, did you say?"

  Bran nodded. He'd come to fetch her and Peter, the master of the guards. The few guards they had left anyway.

  "They come from the King?"

  "Aye, my lady."

  She sighed. The force outside the gate was formidable. The interlopers couldn't know it, but there were only a handful of men left on the grounds. They had enough food to last them a week or so, but no more. There really wasn't anything to discus. Capitulation was the safest course for the people inside the castle walls.

  "Tell them that we will open the gate on one condition."

  "But my lady-"

  "Do it please Bran."

  He sighed heavily, looking to Peter who raised an eyebrow. They were very protective of her she knew. But it was ultimately her responsibility to be protective of them.

  "My lady has agreed to open the gate on one condition."

  Below them, their leader was growing weary of waiting. He stepped forward- cutting off the other soldier before he could speak.

  "What is this condition?"

  Emeline stepped forward and into arrow range, much to her guards consternation.

  "That none of my people will be harmed."

  "Your people?"

  She frowned at the gravelly voice. It dripped sarcasm and contempt. And yet it sent a tingle of recognition shooting down her spine. She squared her shoulders.

  "That none of the people of this castle be harmed."

  "Agreed."

  "And that none of your soldiers force their-"

 
; She paused, searching for a word, any word, that might make this less humiliating.

  "Um… attentions! On any of the female servants!"

  She stared at the man below her. He was utterly still. She wished she could see his face. It was difficult to gauge his intentions but she prayed that he could be trusted to keep his word. She didn't have much choice in the matter. Any more stalling would be to gainsay the King and considered treasonous. A sudden shiver went through her body. There was something familiar about his voice… and the name… but it couldn't be.

  He nodded curtly.

  "No one will be harmed."

  She nodded solemnly as if making a great oath.

  "Open the gate."

  **********

  Rowan felt his horse side step impatiently. Goliath had clearly caught his masters energy. He was ready to get on with his long awaited revenge.

  She was here after all. He'd been almost afraid that what the King had promised him would not come to fruition. It had seemed almost too good to be true.

  She'd worn a cloak when she stood on the wall above so he hadn't been able to get a good look at her. But there was no mistaking that voice. So certain of herself, of her beauty, her place in the world. But also melodious, dulcet, like the voice of the most cultured courtesan.

  And brave.

  To ask what she had asked of him on her people's behalf… from such a tenuous position… he had to admit it required tremendous courage. He could not help but notice she had asked nothing for herself. That was good, because he was a man of his word and would not have promised her anything in that regard.

  Except retribution.

  In just a moment he would face her. He'd be proud and aloof and immune to her tears. He was certain that she would beg him for favors, kindness, to take her back into his heart… She was going to be disappointed in that regard.

  He restrained the urge to barge down the gate as it slowly opened.

  **********

  Inside the castle was a flurry of activity as the remaining household gathered with Emeline in the great hall. There were few servants about, most having snuck out of the castle under her orders at the first sign of the large party on the roads. They'd calmly walked en masse through the tunnel to the sea. Only old Magda and Leidel the cook had stayed with their lady and the two guards.

  Emeline closed her eyes and waited. She forced herself to be still and calm, no matter what transpired. The next few minutes would determine not only what would happen to her, but to everyone who called Fairhaven home. Their futures could be hearty or bleak for generations to come. She was the lady, the people relied on her to negotiate on their behalf. She was toying nervously with the chain around her throat when the doors slammed open.

  A man walked forward, followed closely by his soldiers. His physique was that of a seasoned warrior, thickly muscled and ramrod straight. His bearing reeked of authority. She could see little more about him then that. He wore a full set of highly polished armor and the top of his face was covered with a visor, concealing his eyes. Their metal spurs clanged jarringly against the floor stones as they grew closer.

  "We bid you welcome, Lord Fairhaven."

  Emeline dipped into a graceful curtsy. She rose slowly, feeling even more unsteady on her feet. The man simply stood there, watching her as if she were a fish with wings. She swallowed a nervous laugh. Whatever was she thinking?

  Finally he moved, lifting his visor from his head and resting it on the long trestle. He turned back toward her and all the blood rushed from her head to her heart. Her mouth opened and she spoke his name without thought.

  "Rowan..."

  It was him. She'd thought of him for a moment outside, by the gate… but she'd squashed that hope, thinking it her imagination. But he was here. After all this time...

  He was really here.

  Those same dazzling blue eyes, the strong jaw and handsome face. The light brown hair that once curled over his temples was cropped short but other than that- They stared at each other for a long moment before she realized that she was wrong- he had changed. He was older, yes, but there was more to it than that. His mouth was set in a grim line. His once merry eyes were stony and hard. His cheeks had hallowed out, making him look chiseled and harsh and… angry… at her.

  She had been about to take a step toward him but she stopped, uncertain.

  "Wine."

  She blinked at him, trying to understand what he was saying when she could barely hear over the rapid-fire beating of her heart. Rowan was here! He had come at last!

  "What?"

  "Bring wine. And ale for the men."

  She stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Didn't he recognize her? Wasn't he going to acknowledge her in some way?

  "Be quick about it."

  She jumped at the command in his voice and scurried out of the great hall, Magda and Leidel at her heels.

  **********

  Rowan sat heavily at the table, waiting for his wine in an increasingly foul temper. He was bone weary, yes, but the excitement of taking the castle had kept him on edge for days. Now instead of being triumphant he was irritated… and confused.

  Perplexed by the sweet look of recognition on her face. By the realization that she still looked like an angel, even partially hidden under her hood. By the fact that his heart had leapt at the sight of her. Ant then she'd taken a step toward him and lifted her hand as if to- what- embrace him joyfully?

  He pushed the thought aside. She was not so foolish to think that all would be forgiven with a friendly greeting. He was not a boy any longer. He would not be appeased by a few stolen kisses hidden in a park while her chaperone was distracted. He was a man now and he didn't want her any more.

  Liar.

  "Have you ever heard Rowan talk to a woman like that?"

  "He hardly ever talks to them at all, unless he's set on taking them to bed."

  "Well, if he doesn't, I will. Looks like an angel that one."

  "Shut up Kenneth."

  Two of his men, Kenneth and Wyeth, took their seats at the table. They had been with Rowan they longest and together they formed his inner circle. Wyeth was an older soldier, and had been a mentor to Rowan as he came up the ranks. Kenneth was in his barracks from the beginning. While rarely serious, he was a good fighter and kept those around him in good spirits. Rowan had made sure to bring them both along as his fortunes rose.

  He felt his muscles tighten up as Emeline came in back in with the wine and several goblets. She set them down and poured them each a glass as the other servants rolled out a cask of ale for the men.

  He drank deeply, savoring the fine vintage, savoring the warmth of her standing so near. He felt her turn to leave and lashed out, grabbing her wrist.

  She gasped, her startled eyes flying to his. Obviously she wasn't used to being manhandled. He stared coldly into those beautiful green eyes of hers. Those eyes that hid nothing, showing him in one glance the depth of her fear and confusion.

  He felt a twinge of the old Rowan, wanting to tell her all would be well, that he would protect her. But he pushed it aside. If she was afraid, then she would be more biddable. It was to his advantage to keep her off balance.

  "Bring us something to eat. And then come back. I want you to show me to my chamber."

  He released her and turned back to his wine. Across the table, Kenneth and Wyeth exchanged a glance.

  "Did the gel do something wrong?"

  "Lady."

  "What?"

  "She's not a girl, she's a lady. Go see to the horses now."

  Kenneth raised his eyebrows at the harsh command but got up, leaving Wyeth to bear him company. Only Rowan found that he didn't want company at the moment. He wanted-

  Emeline was back, laying a platter before them. Roast chicken, cheese and bread. She stepped backwards again, clearly unsure what to do next. Rowan tore into his food with gusto. Wyeth turned to Emeline and stood.

  "Thank ye for the food Lady-"

  He let his voice
dangle, hinting for her name. Rowan watched as she smiled graciously and curtsied.

  "Emeline. It's nice to meet you Sir-"

  "Sir Wyeth, at your service."

  Rowan interrupted them before they could go on. He didn't like the way Emeline was smiling at Wyeth. He didn't like how relieved she looked at the scrap of kindness the older soldier had shown her.

  "How long will it take for a hot bath?"

  "A few minutes. I can go-"

  "No. Send one of the other servants. You wait."

  He could feel disapproval radiating off of his second in command. Emeline was standing to his side, nervously watching him eat. He ignored them both.

  When he was finished eating he stood up.

  "You may show me to my room now."

  She nodded and led him out of the hall. Rowan stared at the gentle sway of her hips, the rest of her figure maddeningly concealed by her cloak. He'd order her to remove it he decided. His fingers itched to snatch it away from her as he followed her up the stairs to a long galley. She stopped in front of a door and waited for him to open it.

  It was a massive chamber with a huge heavily carved wooden bed. A fireplace, chest of drawers and a bench under the window completed the masculine effect. It oozed wealth and privilege. He was pleased.

  He turned to see Emeline hesitating outside the door. He gestured to her to enter. Slowly she came inside and stood near the wall. He caught her staring at the bed with trepidation.

  "Fond memories?"

  "What?"

  "Do you have fond memories of your husband?"

  She stared at him for a moment.

  "No."

  He felt a rush of something at her answer… relief. So she hadn't loved her husband after all. Not that it mattered. She had chosen to marry him and now she was a widow. She was fair game.

  "Is that why you don't sleep in here? I don't see any trace of a woman's things."