The Splendid Hour by Kathryn Le Veque

CHAPTER THREE

“If I accept Ludlow, then I keep it out of John’s hands,” Christopher said to David. “Wigmore, too. That castle is strategic and it is enormous, so I shall give one castle to Peter and the other one to Sherry. I’ll garrison the whole damned southern Marches to keep John from it. If he thinks giving me these properties will cause me to change my mind about him, then he has gone mad.”

David couldn’t disagree. It was well into the night at the feast at Hollyhock House in the same hall that only hours earlier had seen the unhappy king and his rebellious warlords face off. At this feast, however, with the presence of women, the men were behaving themselves. Female presence always made the men behave themselves.

Which was why Christopher had sent word to his London townhome for his wife and daughters to join them.

Dustin, the Countess of Hereford and Worcester, arrived in the company of her older daughters. Christin, Lady de Sherrington, was one of them. She was married to Alexander and, for a time, had been one of William Marshal’s best spies. A beautiful woman with dark hair and her mother’s gray eyes, she had retired from the spy game in order to have children, but she was still as wise and cunning as ever. When she entered Hollyhock House, her husband was quick to claim her upon his arm. He hated to be far from her and her appearance at the feast was a welcome event.

Two years younger than Christin was her sister, Brielle. Named after Marcus’ wife, Gabrielle, Brielle de Lohr had blossomed into an astonishing beauty. She looked exactly as her mother had in her youth – a thick mane of blonde hair, buxom and petite, but instead of Dustin’s gray eyes, she had deep brown ones when no one else in the family had. She was unmarried yet, and considered quite an eligible young woman, but for years she and Jax de Velt’s youngest son, Cassian, had their eyes on each other. Even as she entered the manse with her mother and sister, Cassian wasn’t far behind.

He’d ridden escort all the way from Lonsdale House.

No one would look at Brielle for fear of Cassian’s wrath.

Cassian had gone to foster at Lioncross Abbey Castle, seat of Christopher de Lohr, at a young age, so he and Brielle had essentially grown up together. Jax was a very large man, as were his elder sons Cole and Julian, but Cassian had undergone a growth spurt when he was about nineteen years of age that made him taller than anyone. He’d sprouted up, bulked out, and become a beast of a man, and all of him a slave to a little blonde who equally adored him.

Unfortunately, Christopher wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge anything between Brielle and the youngest de Velt son, and the mighty beast of a man who was Cassian was fearful to push his suit, so he bided his time… and stayed close to Brielle, wherever she went.

As Cassian entered behind the women, his father was there to greet him. With Jax and Cassian embracing, Christopher pulled away from Marcus and David and went to greet his wife.

“My lady,” he said with a warm gleam in his eyes. “You look ravishing, as usual.”

Dustin de Lohr was a truly spectacular female specimen who had seen forty years and two. But to her husband, she was an ageless beauty who was much like a fine wine – the older she became, the better she looked, and Christopher was as smitten now as he was when he’d first met her. But she was also willful, stubborn, opinionated, and fiercely protective of her husband and family, which was why he wanted her at the feast.

The situation, for them, could possibly be changing.

He needed her counsel.

“Thank you, my lord,” Dustin said coyly, fighting off a smirk.

Christopher lifted her hand and kissed it. “You are welcome,” he said. “But did you wear that gown to seduce me? You know what happens when you wear it.”

He was referring to the dark blue silk that displayed her full, white bosom most ably. She chuckled at her husband of over twenty years. “I do not need to wear this gown to seduce you,” she said. “If I wanted to do that, I would have worn nothing at all beneath it like I did in our younger years.”

Christopher fought off a grin. “I do remember you doing something like that back when we only had five children.”

“Now we have eight and I have stopped doing that for a reason. Every time I do, we have another child.”

Christopher burst out laughing, kissing her hand again and finally her cheek. When he was finished, she removed her cloak, handing it over to a nearby servant as her gaze moved about the hall.

“Where is Keeva?” she asked, referring to Daveigh’s wife. “I’ve not seen her in a very long time.”

Christopher looked around for the de Winter’s Irish-born wife, spying her flame-hair inside the hall near the hearth.

“She is over there,” he said. “But give me a moment, if you please. I brought you here for a reason.”

Dustin lifted an eyebrow at him, her gray eyes fixed on him. “Not simply to shine?”

He grinned. “Not entirely,” he said, looking over the heads of those crowding the entryway and the doorway to the great hall. He spied Peter, Alexander, and Marcus just inside the door and he emitted a low whistle, catching their attention. “I must speak with you and Peter and Marcus and Sherry.”

Peter and Marcus started gravitating in his direction, followed by Alexander and Christin. Since Christin was savvy in the politics of England, Christopher didn’t mind that she joined the group as he took them into Daveigh’s small solar and shut the door. She was as astute as her husband, brother, and father, so her opinion was respected. Christopher was about to speak when the door abruptly opened and David entered.

He shut the door behind him.

“I want to be part of this,” he said to his brother. “Have you told Peter yet?”

Christopher shook his head. “Not yet,” he said, looking to his eldest son. “I will make this brief. The Marshal has informed me that John wishes to make a bargain with the warlords holding London, starting with me. It would seem that de Broase and de Lacy have fallen out of favor, forfeiting several of their properties to the Crown, the larger ones being Ludlow Castle and Wigmore Castle.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose. “Ludlow?” he repeated. “That massive place? And Wigmore? My God, those two are enormous. They hold a huge chunk of the Marches.”

Christopher nodded. “I know,” he said. “John has offered me Ludlow and Wigmore along with Knighton and Risbury. That would nearly double my empire. But this comes at a price.”

Marcus, who hadn’t heard any of this yet, was understandably wary. “What price, Chris?”

Christopher looked at him. “That the rebels pull out of London,” he said. “I am not the only warlord he will be making an offer to, but I am the first. And, it seems, mayhap the biggest offer. He’ll grant me all four properties if I pull my army out and convince the other warlords to do the same.”

“And if you refuse?”

“Then he’ll give the properties to des Roches so the man can bring his French barons to the Marches,” he said. “We’ll be crawling with French bastards and God only knows what else. Either I accept the offer or I will spend the rest of John’s reign defending my borders and my vassals from des Roches and his scum.”

Marcus usually kept his emotions in check, but even he was shocked at what he was hearing. “That is no choice at all,” he said strongly. “He’s threatening you.”

“He is, indeed.”

“What do you intend to do?”

Christopher shrugged. “What can I do?” he said. “It’s a strain on manpower and finances to keep five hundred men here in the city and I know it is a strain for the other warlords who continue to keep men here, so pulling them out would actually be a relief.”

Marcus was thinking through to the long-term consequences. “And royal troops take the city once again.”

Christopher nodded. “London belongs to the royals,” he said. “It always has, it always will. We held it to gain leverage against John so he would sign the Great Charter and he has.”

“But he hasn’t held up any of the terms.”

“Nor have we by not pulling out of the city when we said we would.”

He had a point. The barons had agreed to withdraw from London as part of the terms of the Great Charter. Marcus snorted. “Then we cannot exactly condemn the king for doing what we are doing.”

Christopher shrugged in agreement and Marcus shook his head, turning away as he pondered the situation. Christopher’s focus moved to Peter and Alexander once more.

“It is my intention to agree to John’s proposal,” he said. “Peter, you shall be the garrison commander of Ludlow Castle. It will belong to you. Sherry, you will be the garrison commander of Wigmore. You both shall keep all of the tolls and taxes from the properties, paying me a quarter of the total yearly take. That will make you both quite wealthy. You are not, however, allowed to raise taxes without my approval, but we will discuss the terms more in detail before you assume your posts. Do you have any questions so far?”

Peter and Alexander were somewhat stunned by the turn of events. Ludlow and Wigmore were without question two of the largest castles on the Marches, so this was a lucrative post for them both. It was Alexander who spoke up.

“Who occupies the castles now?” he asked.

“Fitz Walter,” Christopher replied. “When he turns those castles over to me, he will take the men he brought with him. It is my understanding that de Broase left some of his army behind, so there should already be a contingent of men, but we will reinforce that with de Lohr men. Understand me well – once I get my hands on these castles, John shall not get them back, no matter what happens. They are mine and will remain mine until the end of all things, so your task will be to hold those castles for the House of de Lohr. Forever, if need be.”

Now that the shock was wearing off, the pleasure was evident on Peter and Alexander’s faces. “Who shall man Knighton and Risbury?” Peter asked. “Those are substantial garrisons.”

Christopher stroked his chin. “I realize that,” he said. “I was thinking of sending Cassian to Knighton and possibly Addax al-Kort to Risbury. You remember Addax and Essien, Marcus? The Kitara princes?”

Marcus looked at him sharply, disbelief in his expression. “Are those two serving you now?”

Christopher grinned. “Those young men we took under our wing and helped train on the sands of The Levant those many years ago have never lost their loyalty to England because of us,” he said. “They were serving a Flemish count before they ended up with de Velt. When I heard about that, I demanded they come to Lioncross and serve me, and they’ve been there ever since.”

He was speaking about two young men from a country far to the east of The Levant who had fled their country in a hostile takeover. Their father, the king, had been killed, so Addax and Essien were forced to flee. They made their way to The Levant via a merchant caravan and ended up under the care of Christian knights – Christopher de Lohr and Marcus Burton. When the wars were over, they were separated from their Christian mentors and traveled to Ghent where they were trained and knighted. They were brilliant men and fine warriors, and Marcus was quite pleased to hear that they had turned up again.

“That is excellent news,” he said. “I have always wondered what became of them. I’m very glad to hear they have made their way to England.”

“And I,” he said. “They are excellent knights, both of them.”

“I look forward to seeing them again, soon.”

“They will be quite thrilled to see you, also,” Christopher said. “Addax will make a fine garrison commander, so I will send him and Cassian to the smaller garrisons. Truly, this situation may work out better for us in the end. We could never hope to hold London for any length of time, anyway, so accepting those four castles in exchange for pulling out my men… I have the better end of the bargain.”

Christin, who had been listening intently, spoke up. “Do you intend to only allow my husband to be a garrison commander?” she said. “Or will you give him the property someday? He deserves that, Papa. So does Peter.”

Christopher looked to his ambitious daughter. Not that she wasn’t correct in her declaration that both men were deserving, but he didn’t want to make any commitments at the moment. “Aye, they do,” he said. “But I also have six sons who all must have a piece of my legacy, so do not push me into making any decisions today. Be pleased that you will soon be chatelaine over such a fine castle.”

Christin opened her mouth but Alexander shook his head at her, faintly, a silent husbandly command that forced her to keep silent. As she made a face, unhappily muzzled, Christopher turned his attention to his wife who had, thus far, remained silent during the exchange.

He looked at her, the woman who had been by his side for so many years. She was strong beyond measure, wise and clever. He wanted to make sure she understood the greater implications of what was to happen.

A husband who was taking on more responsibility.

“I know this is a good deal to take in, but I wanted you to know what had transpired this evening,” he said. “I suspect we will be returning home sooner than we had planned because of this latest development. There is much to plan for.”

Dustin was clearly mulling over what she’d been told. “It is a great deal, to be sure,” she said. “I am not astonished at the scope in which your legacy is growing. There is no one in England who deserves it more. But that is not why you invited us here tonight.”

Christopher’s eyebrows lifted. “What do you mean?”

She cocked her head. “I know you too well, my love,” she said. “You said that the king is going to be here tonight and you would not invite me to be in the same hall as that man unless you needed me badly. What do you need me to do?”

Dustin and John, not surprisingly, had a history as well. There had been a time, many years ago, when the then-prince had abducted Lady de Lohr for his own nefarious purposes. Christopher had saved her, of course, and ever since then, he’d made sure his wife and daughters were nowhere near John.

But Dustin was correct.

He needed her for something.

“Astute as always, Lady de Lohr,” he said with a glimmer in his eyes. “I do believe Peter needs your assistance.”

Hearing his name, Peter perked up. “Me? What do I need?”

Christopher looked at him. “If I am not mistaken, Agnes de Quincy and her father will be here tonight,” he said. “Agnes is on your scent like a bloodhound and I thought your mother might be able to give the girl a moment of pause when it comes to pursuing you. I do not like Walter de Quincy, but his lands border mine. It would be a fine lordship for you, Peter. You know the family is quite wealthy.”

Peter put up a hand to stop his father from continuing. “I want nothing to do with her,” he said flatly. “Everywhere I go, there she is. She’s petty and mean, and she is not someone I wish to know much less be married to. If you want someone to have the de Quincy lands and Astley Cross, then marry her to Curtis or Richie. I am not a good candidate.”

Christopher fought off a grin. “I know,” he said. “Which is why I brought your mother in. She can discourage Agnes and her father as I cannot.”

Everyone turned to Dustin, who simply shrugged. “I will do my best,” she said. “Are you certain this is what you want, Peter?”

Peter went to her, taking her hand and holding it sweetly. Even though Dustin had not given birth to him, she had loved him from the moment she’d met him and he loved her. She had always taken a special interest in him and made the bastard of her husband, born well before she had married or even met him, feel like one of the family. At least, she had always tried to.

There was a deep bond there.

“Please, Ange,” he said, calling her what he’d always called her – the French term for angel. “We do not want a woman like that in our family and I certainly do not want to be married to her.”

Dustin smiled at him and patted his cheek. “Then I will do my best,” she said. “Or, my worst as far as Agnes is concerned. Have no fear.”

With that, she headed for the door, pulling her husband and David, and even Christin and Alexander with her. Like a queen, she emerged from the solar with her entourage in tow. Marcus started to follow, but Peter called to him quietly. When Marcus paused, Peter motioned for him to close the door after the others.

He wanted a moment of Marcus’ time.

In fact, Peter had fostered at Marcus’ castle of Somerhill for many years and he was almost closer to Marcus than he was his own father. Marcus hung back, looking at Peter with curiosity.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

Peter had been planning this for the better part of the afternoon. He needed someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t his father or his brother-in-law, someone who wasn’t a family member and perhaps had a broader view of things. He trusted Marcus, a man who was noble and trustworthy, at least to Peter. He knew that in Marcus’ past, the man had sometimes been less than scrupulous when working for something he wanted or something he believed in.

Marcus Burton was a man who would let nothing stand in his way.

Peter had heard the rumors of the days when Marcus lusted after Dustin. He’d even been married to her at one point because it was widely believed that Christopher had been killed in battle, but that was all a very long time ago. Marcus and Dustin and Christopher had been young and passionate and sometimes foolish in their judgment, all of them, so the actions of a man from long ago had no bearing on what Peter thought of him. For as long as he’d known Marcus Burton, the man had only been kind, wise, and noble.

Peter trusted him.

“I had everything planned out that I wanted to speak to you about, but now that the moment is upon me, I am somewhat tongue-tied,” he said, grinning nervously. “I suppose I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Marcus cocked his head curiously. “What about?”

“What do you think of the Jews?”

“The Jews?”

“Aye.”

Marcus was looking for more of an explanation, but when Peter wasn’t forthcoming, he simply shrugged. “They worship the same God as we do,” he said, puzzled. “Are you asking me what I know about the Jews or what my opinion is?”

Peter nodded. Then he shook his head. “God’s Bones,” he muttered. “I do not know what I am asking. All I know is that I saw the most beautiful woman I have ever seen today and she is a Jewess. I’ve never known any, so I do not know if… do you think my father would even let me court such a woman? If I liked her enough, I mean. Do you think he would permit it?”

Now the situation was starting to come clear a little and Marcus’ dark eyebrows lifted. “I see,” he said. “You have met a woman you are attracted to.”

Peter sighed with relief now that Marcus understood what he was saying. “Aye.”

“And she is a Jewess.”

“Aye.”

“Where did you meet her?”

Peter tried not to look too embarrassed. “While hiding from Agnes de Quincy,” he said. “I hid in her kitchen yard over on Milk Street.”

Marcus cocked his head thoughtfully. “That is over in the business district,” he said. “Over by the Street of the Jewelers.”

Peter nodded quickly. “Her father is the jeweler to the king,” he said. “I am sure that means the family is quite prestigious and wealthy. Their house is very nice. She was very… nice.”

Marcus looked at him when he said it, a smile spreading across his lips. “Captured your attention, did she?”

Peter nodded as if he could hardly believe it himself. “I spoke to her for a short time,” he said. “She was witty and intelligent, and her beauty… I have never seen anything like it in my life, Uncle Marcus. The woman is a goddess. Were she Christian, she would be the most popular and sought-after woman in all of England. I’ve honestly never given a thought to the Jews one way or the other, but she… she has me thinking about them.”

Marcus watched the emotions ripple across Peter’s fair face. He was dashingly handsome with his blond hair and dark eyes, and being a de Lohr, that made him one of the most eligible bachelors in England. Agnes de Quincy knew it, which was why she was pursuing him so voraciously. There were other families who had approached Christopher about a potential betrothal, but Christopher was being quite selective with his eldest son. Peter was a prize and Christopher intended to treat him like one and broker the most advantageous marriage for him, but Marcus was fairly certain that did not include a Jewess.

It was simply the way of things.

“Well,” he said after a moment, clapping Peter on the shoulder. “I cannot speak for your father. I do not know what he would allow or what he would not. Personally, I have no quarrel with the Jews. I know many crusading knights cannot say the same thing, but the ones I have known have been congenial and fair. But you do realize that they lead quite a different life from what we do.”

Peter lifted his shoulders. “As I said, I’ve never given them a thought, really,” he said. “I remember someone saying, once, that they have horns underneath their skull caps and that they feast on rats.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Rubbish,” he said. “They simply worship differently than we do, and their customs are different, but that is where it ends. If I were you, I would educate myself on Jews before I go any further with these thoughts. And do not mention this to your father, Peter. He has enough on his mind at the moment without his son asking about a religion that may or may not feast on rats.”

Peter nodded as Marcus opened the door to the solar and the entryway and great hall appeared beyond. But he paused before he stepped through the opening.

“Uncle Marcus, would you let Michael marry a Jewess?” he asked.

Marcus paused next to him. He was speaking of his eldest son, a young man who was blossoming into a spectacular warrior. Michael was just entering manhood, looking and acting very much like his father. Marcus had five sons in total, the youngest one being three years of age, but Michael was the apple of his eye. Still, he pondered Peter’s question seriously.

“I do not know,” he said honestly. “All men hope for advantageous marriages for their sons, so I do not know. I would want him to be happy, of course, but I also would not want him to marry foolishly.”

“And you believe marrying a Jew would be foolish?”

Marcus shook his head. “As I said, I have no quarrel with them,” he said. “But that is not the first place I would look for a beneficial marriage.”

“But why?”

“Ask yourself that question. What can she bring to a marriage? Is it more than you can? Is it less?”

Now, Peter was the one pondering the question. “She’s beautiful and smart.”

“So this is only about her being beautiful and smart?”

Peter could see where he was going, but he didn’t like it. Marcus was trying to force him to look at the marriage from all angles, not just because she was pretty and smart.

Not just because she had a face that mesmerized him.

“Would you say the same thing to me if she wasn’t a Jew?” he said after a moment.

Marcus nodded firmly. “Absolutely,” he said. “This has nothing to do with being a Jew. But you must understand that their world is very different from ours. They don’t necessarily fit into ours and we do not fit into theirs. You would be bringing a woman into a world that she knows nothing about. But let us discuss this more later, Peter. Your father is expecting us, so let’s focus on the present.”

With his hand still on Peter’s shoulder, Marcus headed out into the crowd, taking Peter with him. Even as Marcus ran into Juston de Royans and struck up a conversation right at the entry to the hall, Peter was thinking on what Marcus had advised him.

I would educate myself on Jews before I go any further with these thoughts.

It was good advice. In fact, he knew just who to ask.

If she would even help him.

In any case, it gave him a reason to see her again.

The feast was crowded on this night with a good many de Winter allies which, incidentally, didn’t include anyone who sided with the king other than de Winter and de Nerra. These were all rebel barons, all former allies of de Winter who were now simply friends. And friends supped together and drank together, without speaking of politics for the moment, and everyone seemed to be relaxed and enjoying the evening.

Peter had every intention of enjoying himself along with them. He could see Christin and Alexander speaking to Maxton and Caius, men he liked a great deal. Even though Peter was quite a bit younger than they were and had never experienced life and death on the sands of The Levant, Christopher had and by virtue of his father, Peter had been accepted into their closely knit circle. When Peter proved himself by being a fearless, skilled knight, that cemented further bonds.

Peter was an Executioner Knight and very proud of it.

Someone who seemed to be missing on this night was William Marshal. The king had yet to make an appearance and Peter wondered if The Marshal was with the man and would perhaps arrive with him. Ever since the signing of the Magna Carta those few months ago, the dynamics within the Executioner Knights had changed slightly. No one really addressed it other than to say they were all still faithful friends and loyal to The Marshal.

Still… times like this felt very odd.

Inevitably, his thoughts drifted from The Marshal to memories of the afternoon and the brief time he’d spent with Liora. When he should be focusing on the situation at hand because his father was in the middle of a very dicey situation, he found himself thinking of the raven-haired beauty with the wicked little brother. Oh, he could handle little brothers. He had been doing so for years. But the beautiful lass with the cornflower blue eyes… he wondered if he could handle her.

He wondered if he’d even have the opportunity.

As he stood with Christin, Alexander, Maxton, and Caius, he caught sight of his mother near the dais as she spoke to Daveigh’s wife, Keeva. It occurred to him that she wasn’t speaking to Agnes or Walter de Quincy, both of whom he caught sight of in the same glance. They were near the dais, too, and when they saw Peter looking in their direction, Walter waved and took Agnes by the arm, heading in Peter’s direction.

Peter bolted out of that hall as if his arse were on fire.

He didn’t care that they had made eye contact. He didn’t care that they were smiling and waving at him, greeting him from across the room. Through the smoke and warmth and people crowding the hall, Peter used them like a shield as he made his escape. He slipped past Caius and Maxton, Teviot, his father, and the rest of them as he found himself practically running for the exit. Once outside, he rushed to the group of de Lohr men and horses, finding his trusty steed and mounting swiftly.

And with that, he took off towards London city proper.

He made his escape.

Peter traveled swiftly, passing Westminster Palace and the Thames, and many of the great London manses of warlords that were both siding with the king and against him. He came to the city gates, now being manned by rebel troops and not royal ones, and he was admitted into the city because they recognized his de Lohr tunic. Even in the dark of night, when they usually kept the gates sealed up, they admitted him.

Odd how he seemed to know exactly where he was going.

He was fleeing, indeed, but with a destination in mind.

The moon overhead was cold and bright as he slowed his pace once he entered the city. Even if de Quincy was following him, he might not get past the gate guards and even if he did, Peter was confident he could lose himself on any one of the dozens and dozens of streets and alleys. He was becoming weary of being followed all the time and decided that if his mother couldn’t call off Agnes and her father, then he would have to do it personally. He just couldn’t keep running like this every time Agnes reared her head. They would have to understand that he simply wasn’t interested – and he would have to make sure his father supported that decision.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure if his father did.

He ended up on Lombard Street, heading towards the Aldergate part of the city, when he came upon Milk Street. The little street was quiet and mostly dark at this hour, and his horse’s hooves against the dirt echoed softly off the walls. He made his way to Liora’s home, a four-storied structure that reached into the sky.

Peter found himself looking to the upper floors where the bedchambers would be. He didn’t know which window belonged to Liora, so he didn’t chance the usual throwing-pebbles-at-the-window ploy to get her attention. He didn’t want to awaken that terror, Asa, or worse, Liora’s father. If that happened, things would be over before they had a chance to start. Therefore, he moved around to the small alleyway that ran next to the home, the one that contained the gate leading into the kitchen yard.

For a moment, he paused in the little alley, a smile on his lips as he thought of his encounter with Liora. Such a perfectly angelic woman, beauty beyond compare. He could admit that her beauty had him smitten, but it was her wit that had him hooked. He’d seen beautiful women with the manners of a boar, so it wasn’t all her beauty.

Well, mostly not.

He spent a few minutes reliving his conversation with Liora before finally deciding he couldn’t remain here all night, as much as he wanted to. Begrudgingly, he turned his horse around when a window on the third floor suddenly opened up. Terrified he was about to be seen by Liora’s father or even her little brother, he was preparing to ram his spurs into the sides of his animal and take off when a head with long, dark hair appeared.

“Sir Peter?” Liora whispered loudly, incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

Peter found himself gazing up into Liora’s beautiful face. Her hair was braided for sleep and she was wrapped in a shawl against the cold night air. When he was over the surprise of realizing she had made an appearance, he smiled weakly.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked.

She cast him a long look. “Because I have ears,” she said. “I heard you ride up and you did not ride away, so I peeked from the window and saw you. What are you doing here?”

There was that question again, the one he had avoided the first time. He felt like an idiot.

“You would not believe me if I told you,” he said. “I am hiding again.”

Liora frowned, but it was one of those frowns that suggested she was trying not to smile. “Good heavens,” she said as if he were quite foolish, indeed. “Don’t tell me that Lady Agnes is chasing you again.”

He nodded slowly and deliberately. “Along with her father,” he insisted. “I was only now at a feast where the king was due to arrive and those two chased me right out of the hall. I am fearful they are following me, so I came here. You hid me successfully once before. I was hoping you would do it again.”

She shook her head reproachfully, but her smile broke through. “Truly, Sir Peter,” she said. “Are you always such a coward when it comes to women?”

“When it comes to that woman.”

She covered her mouth with a pale hand, chuckling but not wanting him to really see it. Still, he knew, because he was grinning also.

“I cannot admit you to the yard,” she said. “My father would be very angry if he found out.”

He shrugged, as if he’d known such a thing all along. “Then I suppose I shall have to take my chances,” he said. “But I was hoping to at least speak with you again. I very much enjoyed our conversation earlier.”

Her smile faded as she looked at him. “That is kind,” she said. “You were in trouble and I gave you shelter. It was the right thing to do.”

“I am in trouble now. Will you not give me shelter?”

“I am sorry to say that I do not truly believe you are in trouble.”

Peter realized she evidently wasn’t as glad to see him as he was to see her. That was a blow to his pride, but it was also a blow to the attraction he felt towards her. He’d been so sure it had been mutual and it was a shock to realize that it wasn’t. He struggled not to feel foolish, but in that realization, he thought he should make his intentions clear. Perhaps if she knew, she might realize that he was here because of her – not because he was allegedly being chased by Agnes.

He had nothing to lose by telling her the truth.

“You are correct,” he said. “I am not. But I really did run from Agnes on this night. She and her father are attending the same feast that I am, and when I saw them, I ran. But I did not have to come here. I came because I wanted to see you again. My apologies if you do not feel the same way, but never in my life have I seen a more beautiful, witty woman and I simply wanted to talk to you again. Forgive me if this is an imposition, Demoiselle. All you need do is tell me to go away and I shall. I shall not return.”

It was a surprisingly little speech and Liora simply looked at him. In truth, she didn’t know what to say. What had been an unexpected but very pleasant encounter with a Christian knight earlier in the day had now taken on dimension and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it.

How she could feel about it.

Peter de Lohr was nothing short of magnificent. With his blond hair, shadings of a beard, and piercing dark eyes, he looked like an archangel. As if he’d just stepped out of the halls of heaven and ended up in her kitchen yard. He was completely out of place in this district, the kvartal, and the fact had not been lost on Liora. But he was so glorious and golden that she did what she probably should not have done – she spoke to him.

But she couldn’t help herself.

In her world, there were no knights, no great and shining examples of nobles or lords or ladies, so Peter had been an anomaly. Something she’d hardly had any experience in. He was funny, sweet, and the way his eyes glimmered at her made her heart leap strangely. She’d never experienced anything like it in her life.

And just as swiftly as he’d appeared, he’d departed.

But the truth was that she had been thinking of him since she’d met him. All through dinner, helping her mother serve savory soup and boiled beef, she had been thinking about that English knight. Asa had blabbed it to her father, who was curious about it and nothing more. Liora explained what had happened and Haim, who was much more accustomed to knights and lords because they were his customers, simply brushed it off and went on to the next subject.

But not Liora.

Peter had lingered in her mind.

And now, here he was, confessing something that took her completely by surprise. Had she had an ounce of sense, she would have bid him a good evening and shut the window, but she couldn’t quite seem to do it.

I simply wanted to talk to you again.

It was enough to make her feel giddy all over again.

“You are always welcome in my father’s home,” she said, thinking she probably shouldn’t say it, but she couldn’t stop herself. “It is very late and I am afraid I cannot come out to commiserate with you about Lady Agnes, but I shall be returning from the market early tomorrow morning should you wish to continue this discussion.”

Peter grinned. “I do,” he said quickly. “But I do not wish to speak of Lady Agnes. Anything but her.”

Liora smiled, revealing lovely white teeth in a smile. “Then surely we can find subjects that are more pleasant,” she said. “Good evening to you, Sir Peter.”

That smile made Peter’s knees go weak. Truly, he’d never seen anything so beautiful. “Good evening to you, my lady. Sweet dreams.”

Her gaze lingered on him a moment before she pulled the shutters and closed the window. She had the very rare feature of actually having a glass window that opened, so she closed it and pulled the oil cloth. As Peter watched, the faint light in the chamber was snuffed out. Like an idiot, he grinned all the way back to Lonsdale, never giving a second thought that he should probably be heading back to Hollyhock.

But he just didn’t care.

With what he had to look forward to tomorrow, he didn’t give a lick about anything.