Chapter Six
Benedick. stood at the window, relishing the chill wind. The snow had melted, leaving sodden fields and patches of ice, and the white world in which he had frolicked with Noel, snatching a kiss in its pillowy softness, seemed as much of a dream as all the others.
And just as insubstantial.
Drawing in a deep breath, Benedick watched a lone soldier high on the wall. Not so long ago, that had been him, a young lad striving to be stronger, swifter, fiercer and more clever than all the others. And he had succeeded, all too well, growing impervious to cold, to weather, to feelings of any kind. He had killed not only others, but parts of himself. And now it was too late to call back those pieces that were missing.
“Reminiscing?”
Benedick started at the sound of Noel’s voice, so close and oddly baiting. He turned his head toward her in question, but she looked the same as always, guileless and beautiful, if more somber than was her wont.
“Reminiscing?” he asked, lifting his brows.
“Yes,” she said, with a nod toward the soldier. “You claim you want rest and ease, and yet you fight me every time I try to tempt you to it. You wrap your past around you like a cloak, clinging to it as if for protection.”
“’Tis all I know,” he said gruffly, swiveling his attention to the outside once more. The last thing he wanted now was another lesson in Noel’s philosophy. Play and wishes were fine for her, with her angelic appearance and fairy ways, but he was more fit for grim reality.
“Nonsense. You can read and write and balance accounts. You can mete out justice fairly, and you are a leader of men. This is your keep, and you can see that its people thrive in the years to come. Look to the future, Benedick.”
Her soft admonition irritated him. What did she know of anything, a pampered girl of seventeen summers? He had seen things, done things, that would make her quail. Aye, that would make a grown man weep!
“Go away,” he said curtly. “Your prattle becomes tiresome.” He stared stonily out into the bailey and wished her lilting voice and merry habits gone.
But Noel was never tractable. “I see,” she said sharply as she stepped in front of him, blocking his view. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared up at him, with a boldness that astonished him.
“Now let me make sure I understand. You spent half your life working to improve your lot in the only way possible, through the noble knighthood, and now you would spend the rest of your life atoning for it.”
Benedick flushed with rage. Did the wench dare to mock him?
“Do you know what?” she demanded, tapping her slipper against the tiles as if she were the one rightfully indignant. “I think you want to suffer, as some kind of penance! But those men whose deaths are on your hands would not respect it. Only an honorable life, well lived, will serve their memories.”
Benedick gaped at her, too outraged to speak.
“Embrace life, Benedick!” she said with gentle urgency, and she laid her slender fingers upon his arm as if to coax him. “If not with me then with another woman, but marry and fill the hall with your heirs and pass on to them all that you have struggled to gain—and all that you have learned, as well. Give to your family and your people and yourself. You are a good man, Benedick—”
She paused suddenly, to study him intently, and he felt the light pressure of her fingers as they tightened upon him. “Why do you not know that?” she whispered. “Is it because of your father? Do you think that a bastard born cannot deserve what you have fought so hard to win?”
Benedick trembled in furious denial, his heart pounding and his breath catching at this small woman who dared speak to him as no one ever had before. The gentle understanding he glimpsed in her eyes only mortified him, and he grappled for words strong enough to extinguish it, to turn her and her worthless wishes away once and for all.
“You are a good man,” she repeated softly. “And you have earned your rewards. Seize them with both hands before they are gone to dust.”
She whirled away then, her pale fingers slipping from him, her hair flashing brightly behind her as she hurried from his side. Staring after her, speechless, Benedick was just as enraged by her sudden departure as by all the accusations she had thrown at him.
She was wrong! He was no monkish man to lock himself away, wasting his time in flagellation. She knew nothing of his torment; how could she judge him? His fingers closed into a fist, and he struck at the stones that lined the window.
He had come here seeking rest, and he would have found it, if not for her infernal interference. He could have no ease because of her and her ceaseless revelry, her countless traditions, her continual presence, teasing and tempting him. Lifting his arm to the stones that lined the window, Benedick rested his forehead against it and released a ragged breath. She was wrong, and he knew it.
But what if she wasn’t?
Another day gone.
Benedick laid his head against the pillow, expecting a sense of relief, but it did not come. Lately he was not so eager to see the arrival of Epiphany, only two days hence, as he once had been.
Ever since Noel’s outburst, Benedick had tried to ignore the questions she raised, but some of her accusations struck too close to the truth to be dismissed. He was forced to admit that the shame of his birth had long hung over him. He had worked and fought and struggled to prove himself, but to whom? His parents were dead. Perhaps it was time he took a long, hard look at his life.
Unfortunately, every time he did, he saw Noel.
No doubt, that was because she made such a nuisance of herself. Each time Benedick turned around, she was there, tugging on his hand, trying to get him to join in a child’s game of Bee in the Middle or dragging him out to gift the birds with a wheat sheaf—another one of her Christmas traditions.
She had many of them, and as master of the keep, he was expected to participate in all of them. After a while, Benedick stopped arguing with her about it and suffered his “fun.” Perhaps she was right, and he had denied himself for too long. It was a startling concept, for he had never known anyone who was truly content, but the more time he spent around Noel, the more he wondered if he was embracing grim reality a bit too fiercely.
Slowly he began to realize that a little celebration and revelry was not amiss, but wrapped up in his acceptance of Noel’s philosophy was acceptance of Noel, for how could he find happiness on his own, without her direction?
And there was the rub.
For Noel was not his to hold, and in a few short days, she would be gone. In the meantime, Benedick had formed a rather uneasy truce with his ward. He was willing to participate in her ridiculous traditions, play assorted silly games and converse at length with sundry villeins. Indeed, he allowed Noel full reign over his household, just as long as he was not alone with her.
Although not the kind to admit to his own limitations, Benedick did not trust himself where his ward was concerned. He could no longer deny his attraction to her, for it went beyond physical desire to a deeper yearning to which he refused to succumb.
Yet, as long as Benedick kept his distance, he could avoid temptation and preserve his ward’s honor. He could maintain control of his body and his mind, he told himself firmly, even in sleep. And so, resolutely he willed away dreams of Noel even as he drifted into uneasy slumber.
All too soon, the visions came, and this time they were different. Instead of lying abed with Noel, he was astride his great destrier returning home from a long, enforced absence. Around him, the world was dark and vague, and he was alone.
Eager to reach his keep, Benedick sent the horse to the top of the rise that led to Longstone, only to find some other castle, crumbling and cold in its stead. Confused, he traveled onward to familiar hills and a castle that looked to be his own, but when he entered, it was nothing but a timbered shell. Swearing wildly, he spurred his mount, thinking to escape this maze, if not the dream itself, but soon he faced the same lands. Another keep loomed ahead, shrouded in fog, yet Benedick kept his distance, wary, until a woman rose out of the mist.
Noel.
Cloaked in blue as clear as her eyes, she was so beautiful that Benedick’s breath caught and held. Then she ran toward him, golden hair flowing behind her, and her smile of welcome made his heart pound with joy. Sunlight suddenly streamed around them, and he dismounted. Hurrying to greet her, he reached out to catch her up in his arms...only to awaken with his hands full of blankets.
Tossing them aside with an oath, Benedick sat up and rubbed his eyes as if to remove the last vestiges of his dream. Of course, the meaning of this little nighttime drama was painfully clear. In fact, if Noel had been a different sort of female, Benedick might have suspected her of tainting his food with some kind of potion. But Noel was far too sweet to do evil. As well, he had been eating and drinking the same as the other residents, yet he seemed to be the only one beset by these visions.
Alard, worthless cur that he was, snored loudly from his position before the door, as if to confirm Benedick’s opinion. Leaning back against the pillows, Benedick frowned at the irony. After years of uncertain berths, he was now cradled in a soft bed in a spacious chamber with a bright hearth, but he was unable to enjoy it.
Because of the dreams.
They plagued him nightly. And whether of peace and comfort or lusty pleasures, they always centered around a phantom Noel and lingered during the day, bringing his thoughts ever back to her. If he didn’t know better, Benedick would have wondered if something outside himself was affecting his mind.
A sudden draft rattled the shutters and swayed the curtains around him, making Benedick chill. Indeed, it was lucky he did not believe in such things, for, if so, he might even have blamed his increasing sleeplessness on Noel—and her Christmas wish.
In a narrow bed in her much smaller chamber, Noel also was awake. Undaunted by dreams, she nevertheless lay with her eyes wide-open, her thoughts too frantic for slumber. Finally she abandoned her efforts, sat up and drew her knees to her chest. Hugging them tightly, she turned her attention to Benedick. Wonderful, impossible Benedick.
Ever since she had confronted him about his past, she had sensed the turmoil in him. It seemed as if he wanted to let go and enjoy the fruits of his labors, but something was holding him back. Although there were fewer scowls and grumbles and more of those reluctant smiles of his, he still kept his distance.
Noel sighed. She sensed that she was on the right track, that eventually Benedick would come to appreciate her, if not care for her. She had caught him watching her, sometimes with a fierce look that implied possession, more often with a wistful longing that broke her heart. He wanted her and needed her, if only he would reach out and take her!
She was impatient, even as she knew that the liberation of her knight would be a gradual process. Under normal circumstances, she would bide her time, hoping to sway him with gentle persistence. Unfortunately, she could not afford the luxury of waiting, for time was running out. There were only two days left until Epiphany.
Desperate measures obviously were needed.
She had tried reasoning with him, tried to pamper him, tried to get him to enjoy life, and she had succeeded to some degree, but her only real achievements were underneath the mistletoe and out in the snow. Despite whatever misgivings he harbored, Benedick desired her, yet he had forbidden her to kiss him and cleverly avoided being alone with her. Indeed, the hall was usually so crowded with holiday revelers from both the castle and without that the only real privacy to be found was in the few bed chambers.
Noel went very still at the thought. From what she had seen, Benedick was an early riser, eager to get on with his day, so the only time she could be assured of finding him in his den was late at night. When he was sleeping. In bed. Naked.
Noel swallowed hard. She was not so naive as to compare an embrace beneath the mistletoe to a visit to the great chamber. She knew very well that she had better be prepared to indulge in more than just kisses when she sought out Benedick’s bed. If he didn’t throw her out on her ear immediately, he would make love to her, and there would be no turning back.
Noel shivered. She ought to be shocked by the train of her own thoughts, but instead she felt a flood of tingly warmth. Pleasure, anticipation. A wealth of emotions begging to be set free by his touch. Benedick seemed so often to deride her innocence that perhaps seduction would prove she was not too young, too inexperienced to please him.
Noel caught her breath as she let herself consider such a course: Benedick’s initial resistance, followed by his rough, demanding passion. Noel imagined touching his body, melting into the hard, hot heat of him, and her decision was made as swiftly as the images that flashed before her.
Dizzy with desire, she forced herself to plan carefully. She would have to divert Alard, who lay in front of his master’s door. No elaborate plot was necessary, for she need only ply him with too much wine and he would sleep like a rock. Noel smiled slowly. Some wine might be in order for Benedick, too, just to ease her way past his formidable defenses.
But once there, she had no daubt that her knight would welcome her into his bed. And his arms.
Benedick scowled as he watched Noel call for more of the strong wine. There seemed to be a lot of it flowing during the small supper and afterward. Alard was already laughing too loudly from his seat on the bench against the wall, where he was trying to entice a village maiden onto his lap.
Benedick groaned. What was his ward up to? Although her time here had nearly run out, she continued to hold herself with grace and beauty and an abundance of good spirits. Until today.
Although taut as a bowstring himself, Benedick had begun to notice a tenseness about her this afternoon that seemed to grow as the evening wore on. She kept darting quick, wide-eyed glances in his direction as if agitated by the very look of him. He frowned when her gaze slid away and color stole up her cheeks.
What was she up to? He was accustomed to her ploys. Sometimes, despite his warning, she tried to tease him under the mistletoe or drag him on a private stroll, but he would have none of it. Try as he might to ignore it, he felt a twinge of guilt about her banishment that made him all too happy to accede to her wishes for now. Yet the niggling doubt about his decision did not extend to pleasing her in private.
Leaning back in his chair, Benedick closed his eyes against the sweet, tempting sight of her, and acknowledged his own weariness. He was tired of fighting this attraction, tired of clinging to a life that had never given him satisfaction, and just plain tired. Last night, after the strange dream, he had stayed awake till nearly dawn. And now Noel was plying him with drink that was making him even more drowsy.
“More wine?”
The sound of her voice echoing his thoughts made Benedick blink. His lashes fluttered open to see her pushing another cup toward him while nervously tugging on a lock of her hair. She avoided his gaze in a way that was wholly unlike her, and his eyes narrowed. Was she trying to get him drunk?
Benedick straightened as the suspicion shot through him. The whole situation reeked of one of Noel’s schemes, but why? Did she think to drag him insensate before the priest? The old man knew better than to marry them when Benedick was in his cups. What, then? Benedick watched her dart a swift glance at him and studied her. Her blue eyes glittered too brightly and her face was flushed as if she, too, had consumed too much, but he knew that she had not. When she passed him the wine with fingers that trembled almost imperceptibly, suddenly he knew.
She was going to try to seduce him.
Benedick’s body rose enthusiastically to the idea, and he shifted in his seat, tugging at his braies beneath the table. He promptly quelled the niggling voice that told him to go along, wholeheartedly, with her scheme. For, if he did, he would surely end up married to her. And he didn’t want that, did he? The answers didn’t seem too clear anymore, and he ran a hand through his hair.
No matter, he told himself, for little Noel wouldn’t have much success if she kept forcing wine upon him. He was not your typical drunk. He did not lose his inhibitions and dance upon the tables. Nor did he bark and growl and beg for a fight. He simply fell asleep, which ought to wreak havoc with dear Noel’s plans.
As if suddenly noticing his rather vacant expression, she appeared at his shoulder. “You look tired. Let me help you up to your chamber.”
Benedick wasn’t tired enough to ignore the tension in her voice, and so he shook his head. “I’m going to sit by the fire,” he muttered. Suddenly he didn’t like the idea of sleeping through her seduction, especially when she might demand marriage in the morning anyway. Dragging his chair to the hearth, Benedick sat back and looked into the flames.
His will was weakening, he admitted with a disgruntled sigh. Just the thought of Noel coming to his room made him hard and hot. Lying with her in that great, soft bed would be more potent than any dream. Drowsy with drink, Benedick let the scene play out in his head. What would she wear? How would she act? Right now she looked as eager as a lamb to slaughter, and Benedick frowned. That’s not what he wanted from her. What did he want? He wanted her gone, he told himself, but his resolve was fading. He wanted her...
Closing his eyes against the slow seep of desire, Benedick let himself drift upon a waking dream that dissolved into slumber. And soon, the visions he had tried so hard to escape claimed him at last.
This one was different, Benedick sensed that immediately. Instead of the usual warmth that permeated his being, he felt cold and distanced, an outsider, as he had been so much of his life. Blinking against the dimness of the world around him, he saw a hall that was strangely similar though different.
Greenery was everywhere, along with brightly colored swatches of cloth and glowing candelabras denoting the season, yet something was subtly altered. Around the high table gathered a group of people, and Benedick wanted to protest the crowding but could not find his voice. Moving closer, he saw that they were children of various ages, but why did they surround his seat? And why could he not see it?
In front of the table, a tall dark youth stood by a pretty girl with golden hair that seemed familiar, while two smaller children had their backs to him. Benedick saw another boy holding a baby, but the other side lay in shadow.
“Happy birthday, Mama!” they all shouted, and a woman rose from behind them. With a start, Benedick recognized her at once. It was Noel, only older. Still beautiful and graceful, but mature and womanly wise, she smiled and laughed so gaily that he wanted to go to her.
Instead, he remained silently rooted to his spot, while she moved among the children, drawing them to her with a loving gentleness that startled him until he realized they must be her own offspring. But how? And then she turned, a special smile reserved for someone seated in the shadows... in his chair!
Her husband.
Rage swept through Benedick as he tried to see man hidden there. Come out of the darkness, you coward, for I would know you! he shouted, though no one heeded him. His hand went to the hilt of his sword even as he knew that he could not kill the father of Noel’s children. Their children. Beautiful and laughing, they filled the hall with life.
Jealousy consumed him, sharp and stinging, and he shouted for an answer. Identify yourself! When none replied, he turned to Noel. Her eyes sparkled with happiness, yet she seemed to know him not. Who is he? Benedick demanded, reaching out to force her response.
“Wake up,” she said.
Benedick blinked. “Who is he?” he demanded as she knelt before him. Grabbing her shoulders in a savage grip, he leaned close, frantic to learn the truth. “Who is your husband?”
She looked startled. “Why, you are, of course.” For a long moment, Benedick wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming or if the dream had become reality. Then she smiled, her lips curving so near to his own that he nearly claimed them and her, too. Dazed by the powerful vision, he felt like weeping for the want of her, for the want of...everything.
“If I can convince you, that is,” Noel said. “Now, come up to your chamber. You were asleep in the chair.”
Shaken more than he cared to admit, Benedick focused on her voice, her face, until instead of the woman of his dream, he saw Noel, her eyes bright with intent.
His chamber.
“No,” Benedick said unsteadily, as the present came flooding back, and with it, Noel’s heady plan to seduce him. “I think I’ll sit up here tonight.”
“Here! Why?” she asked, obviously flustered. But her dismay only made Benedick more determined. She was young, beautiful, a virgin, and he knew that his drowsiness would disappear if he found her in his bed.
“’Tis tradition,” he muttered through gritted teeth. She was positioned between his spread legs and the thought of her bending her head forward and that golden hair flowing over him like silk made him painfully hard. Along with the knowledge that she wanted him.
Obviously she wanted something—either him, the keep or marriage—enough to offer herself up for it. But hers was a gift he could not accept. Although his body throbbed with frustration, Benedick was not so base as to take a young girl of good birth he had no intention of wedding.
Unlike his father.
The thought brought Benedick to his feet, and he drew her up with him. “Go on, Noel. ’Tis late, and you must seek your rest.”
Her eyes were as wide and blue as the ends of the earth must be and better than any dream. “But I—”
Benedick shook his head, even though his blood thundered and heated. “Catherine,” he called over his shoulder to one of her attendants. “See Noel to her chamber and make sure that none disturb her sleep.”
When the handmaiden drew her away, Benedick sank back into his chair and stared into the flames. Gradually the hall quieted down, the servants made their beds in the corners and he heard the soft sounds of their retirement. At his nod, Alard extinguished the last of the candelabras and lay down on a bench nearby. For once, the youth did not pester him with annoying queries or comments, and Benedick was grateful for it.
Even in the dim light of the hearth, where the Yule log still burned, Benedick could see the greenery everywhere, and he could smell the pungent odors of spices and boughs and berries, but without Noel’s presence the place lost its festive air. It became only a room, dark and bleak and full of nothing.
Benedick sucked in a ragged breath as the memory of his vision returned. He felt a sudden tightening in his chest when he considered the choices it had offered him. Long into the night, well past the time when all around him slept, did he sit there, contemplating his past, his present and his future.
And he realized that he could lock himself away at Longstone with his scars and his memories, or he could become the man in the dream. He could be Noel’s husband and the father of those children and embrace life with all the vigor he had once thought lost in battle.
And for one long moment, still in the darkness, he nearly wished for it to be so.