Chapter Seven

W hen she could not leave the confines of Hawkspur to escape into the forest alone, Alyce walked the high castle walls, as she did this morning. Rarely did she encounter anyone other than the soldiers on patrol in the early morning hours as the sun rose, so it surprised her to see an unmistakably tall figure looking out over the wall, his profile sharp in the dawning light.

She contemplated turning around before he noticed her presence but thought better of it. The king's knight and his army had been at Hawkspur for nearly a sennight, and she had spent the whole of that time busying herself with every possible mundane task of maintaining the castle to avoid the dark knight who unsettled her composure every time he was near. In truth, she'd expected him and his army to be gone by now. But since that was not the case, better to know what Hawk was doing and what conclusions he was drawing if she wanted to protect Cynwulf—though from what exactly, she did not yet know. He seemed to be avoiding her as much as she was avoiding Hawk. Mayhap it had nothing to do with the treason suspected by the king, but until she uncovered Cynwulf's secrets, she would do what she could to divert Hawk away from him.

Moving quietly, she walked nearer to him, then followed the direction of his gaze. Hawk's strong features were stony with seriousness, even sharper-looking than usual as he leaned on his elbows and stretched his neck to peer down into the valley below with a perplexed expression on his face.

"You look as though you suspect treason at any moment from any one of them, Sir Grogan," Alyce said.

Hawk did not look at her when he responded. "Please, call me Hawk. And I suspect everyone to be in the wrong until they prove to be in the right."

"All right. What offense have the people of the village committed to deserve your suspicion, this early in the morning, Sir Hawk?"

"Just Hawk," he corrected again. "None, but neither have they done ought to prove above suspicion."

Alyce had hoped that the fact he took time to contemplate the villagers was a sign he was a man with an open mind. How disappointing that he insinuated innocent people should be thought suspect without reason. She gritted her teeth and forced a cordial smile. "You've yet to even meet them."

"Aye, hence, I cannot know if they are worthy of being above suspicion."

Alyce sighed heavily. "Nor can you know they are unworthy of being above suspicion."

Warriors could be stubborn she knew, and she feared nothing she said or did would make any difference to him or alter his opinion of the people of Hawkspur. In truth, it was not her nature to back down, but she did not care to argue with someone who refused to see reason. She turned on her heel to leave, then hesitated, reminding herself that more hung in the balance than her displeasure.

"Do I trespass, my lady?"

"Yes, Sir Grogan, you do." She turned to face him again, hands on hips. "You come into Hawkspur expecting my brother to do your bidding. You forget Cynwulf is lord here, and you skulk around our home suspecting everyone guilty of treason."

Alyce waited for a response, bracing herself for rebuke—but she would not be contrite. Even knights of the king needed a reminder of their station when overstepping their bounds.

He straightened to his full height, nostrils flared, and towered over her. She wished he would not stand so close, and she almost took a step back to put more space between them but stopped herself. She refused to give him reason to believe she was afraid and instead looked up at him to meet his gaze with as much confidence as she could muster.

"First, my lady," Hawk drawled, narrowing his dark eyes at her. "I am here at the king's bidding, which puts me in a station above either of you, regardless of your precious Marcher traditions. Second, Cynwulf's position as lord does not put him above suspicion and scrutiny. And third, I never skulk ."

She wanted to laugh. He'd been more offended at the accusation of skulking than of being inconsiderate and rude. Perhaps "skulk" was not an apt description; he was larger than life and not one to lurk in the shadows. She gave him an indulgent smile and said, "You are right, you never skulk. No, you enter a room with a swagger and a puffed chest, like a stallion claiming a pasture of mares. You have too much arrogance to skulk."

His eyes widened with surprise when she imitated his strut in a circle around him, chest pushed out and elbows wide as she swung her arms. She could hardly believe she'd just gone to such efforts to insult him by mocking his annoying ways, but it was too late to take it back. She stopped when she was in front of him again and forced herself to look at his face. She did not want to lift her eyes above his chin, but she would not back down now.

She braced herself for whatever retribution he should choose to deal out. It suddenly occurred to her that he might be a man with no qualms about striking a lady and prayed he would not hit her. Never had her father, uncle, brother, or husband ever struck her, but she knew some men were prone to such behavior and a warrior like Hawk was no stranger to violence. Next time, she would think it through more carefully before she decided to throw an insult in his face.

But he did nothing.

And said nothing.

She stared at his chin for what seemed an agonizingly long time until she saw it quiver slightly. Forcing herself not to flinch in the face of the anger that caused the tick in his chin, she lifted her eyes to his. What she saw there took her completely by surprise. His eyes didn't burn with anger, they…twinkled! And he was on the verge of laughing. Her shoulders dropped with relief, but she jumped the very next second when he let out a booming hoot of amusement.

*

Hawk had never seen anything like it before.

No one had ever dared mock him to his face or insult him as openly as this woman. Though, in truth, he found her comment about his swagger and puffed chest to be quite complimentary. Ah, but the Lady Alyce was a fresh change from the women with whom he usually kept company.

"First, thank you for the compliment," he said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. "And second, that is the finest bit of playacting I've had the pleasure of witnessing in a very long time."

"Well, first ," Lady Alyce drawled, mimicking him, "'twas not meant to be a compliment, and second, even the chickens in the yard can imitate your strut."

Watching the emotions play across Lady Alyce's face fascinated Hawk. She held nothing back. The look of surprise in her own eyes as she said the last was as amusing as her words. Her insolence should offend him, but he found it too entertaining to put a stop to it.

He stepped closer until their toes were nearly touching so she had no choice but to tip her head back to look at him, despite her height. She kept her eyes locked on his chin, refusing to look any higher. Her cheeks had turned red when she first began her insults, but now her entire face showed the heat of her embarrassment.

Or was it something else? He felt his own heat rising, but it had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the hundred different ways he would like to test her boldness, each one starting with her sprawled across a bed. Did she find herself as attracted to him as he was to her at this moment?

Hawk decided her heat was from embarrassment, she was too sincere to feel anything else after the display she'd just put on.

"Thus far, lady, you've compared me to a stallion and a chicken." He put a finger under her chin and forced her to look up at him. "Any other livestock you care to compare my likeness to?"

He felt some satisfaction when her ears and throat turned as red as the rest of her face, but she did not blink or back down from him.

"No. I believe those will do." At least her words sounded contrite even if her voice did not.

She had lovely eyes fringed with dark lashes that brushed the top of her cheeks when she looked down—which she didn't do for very long. The lady had nerve if nothing else. He was just about to move his fingers from her chin to catch a loose wisp of her hair when she stepped back, putting distance between them. The intoxicating aroma of lavender, and something more subtle but equally alluring, faded as she moved away.

"Would you like to count my teeth and inspect them for soundness?" she asked, her voice a mixture of sarcasm and annoyance.

Hawk realized he had been staring at her overly long, but he had no idea what she meant. He tilted his head to the side, looking at her through narrowed eyes, furrowing his eyebrows questioningly.

"I am not a broodmare to be examined for imperfections."

Again, he had unintentionally offended her. Her face, hair, and scent had mesmerized him, and he'd forgotten for a moment they were acquaintances standing on the top of the castle wall instead of lovers sitting by the warm glow of a hearth. He may dare look his fill at a bonny lass in a tavern, but Lady Alyce was a different sort of woman. Her boldness was not flirtatious, and her confidence was not a sultry invitation. He could see no conniving in her eyes when she spoke to him, and she obviously did not desire him the way most women did. He was lost in his thoughts again and caught uncharacteristically off guard when Alyce turned away from him to leave.

"Where are you going?" He sounded gruffer than he'd intended.

She stopped and turned to face him, her posture now regal. "I do not feel it necessary to ask your leave, sir; this is my home, and you are the guest. I am leaving you to your musings, or whatever it is you were doing up here. Good day, Sir Grogan."

"Wait. Explain this to me," he said with a nod toward the village.

"What is it you look at, Sir Grogan?" Her arms were crossed in front of her, feet planted. He was hoping she'd return to his side.

"Call me Hawk. You sound angry when you call me ‘Sir Grogan'."

"Mayhap I am angry," she said with a smirk, one elegant eyebrow arching enticingly.

She did look angry—and invigorated. Her lips were pursed, and she exhaled with the force of a raging bull. The luscious curve of her breasts pressed tightly against the linen of her gown with each exaggerated breath, and Hawk had to struggle to keep his eyes on her face. She seemed completely unaware of the enticing effect of her anger, and he grinned, thinking it would only anger her more if she knew he did not feel the least bit chastised, and instead was getting more uncomfortable as his growing lust strained against his breeches.

She dropped her arms in resignation and walked slowly back to his side, stopping an arm's length away. She leaned against the castle wall to look out over the village, her body stiff and tense as though she suspected he might grab her and throw her over the wall if she came too close.

He wanted to grab her all right and throw her over his shoulder to carry her to his chamber. If she had any inkling of the erotic things he wanted to do to her she would probably throw herself over the wall instead.

Alyce peered over the wall trying to discern exactly what Hawk was looking at, but she could see nothing unusual. "I ask again…Hawk." She hesitated before saying his name, the moniker feeling awkward on her lips. "What—or whom—do you study so fervently from your perch up here, high above your unsuspecting prey?"

Suddenly, his name did not seem so inappropriate.

Hawk turned his head slightly in her direction and cocked a questioning eyebrow as he looked sideways at her. "I am trying to understand the motives of the villagers. Some are English, many are Welsh, yet they work and live together despite the animosity and turmoil between the two lands."

Alyce studied his face a moment before answering, surprised to see the hard lines of his face soften, a look of genuine interest in his dark eyes. An unexpected bloom of warmth spread through her chest, and she buried her hands in the folds of her gown until the urge to touch her fingers to the curve of his cheek subsided. "Perhaps, my lord, you have spent too much time waging war and not enough time lording over a castle. Do you have a home of your own?"

He turned his entire body to face her, resting his hip against the wall and leaning on one forearm—a large forearm, at that. She didn't know what was more aggravating, the man himself, or the way her breath seemed to catch in her throat when he turned his full attention her way. He brought out the worst in her, infuriating her into saying rude things she would never dare to say, or even want to say, to anyone else. Good lord, she'd even been so flustered as to strut around him like a rutting stallion just to show him what he looked like. She could hardly blame him if he chose to throw her over the wall after the things she'd said and done.

He'd started talking, but the way he grinned—a bit lopsided and surprisingly full of boyish charm for someone who exuded nothing but masculinity and strength—made her traitorous heart skip a beat. It had been a long while since conversing with another person left her feeling so exhilarated, but she was definitely feeling that way now—invigorated—and like something other than a widow to be pitied, or a sister to be looked after.

"Will…will you repeat that?" She tried not to stammer like a foolish girl. "I was thinking of the morning duties I must attend to soon." You are a woman married and widowed, not a na?ve maiden. She repeated the words in her head over and over as he continued to stare at her. Hawk was a dangerous man, and she must not forget that. Not just to her sanity, but also to the future of Hawkspur.

His grin broadened with that all-knowing confidence he seemed to have in abundance, and he leaned a bit closer to her. "I said no, my lady, I do not have a home. I am a fighting man, a knight of the king. I rarely sleep in the same bed for more than a month or two if I am lucky enough to have a bed to sleep in. Most of my days are spent fighting, and my nights are spent bedded down in tents or under the stars, moving from one battle to another, quelling one uprising after another. I earn my gold by wielding my skills on the battlefield."

"Ah," she said, nodding, flustered to realize her focus was on his lips as her head filled with images of what they would feel like pressed against her own. With a quick shake of her head to clear it, she turned toward the village. Wasn't there an old saying about keeping your enemies close? Better to know what Hawk was thinking and doing than to have him roaming the castle unhindered, looking for treason in every corner, she reasoned. "Would you care for me to enlighten you about the Welsh and English villagers here at Hawkspur?"

"Please do, Lady Alyce. Enlighten me."

Alyce ignored the mocking tone of his voice. "To the villagers, the things of importance are their family, their crops, their livestock, and the weather. These things are their entire world. They work every day to feed and clothe their children and themselves, whether Welsh or English. They care not who claims dominion over their lands, or whether their present lord is loyal to the English king or the Welsh prince. As long as their lord is fair and protects them in return for a share of all they reap, they are contented."

"Ha," Hawk scoffed. "I have a hard time believing, with all due respect, my lady, that any man can willingly swear fealty to a lord not of his heritage whilst his Welsh brothers are fighting the same lord."

Alyce smiled as though indulging a child. "These people," she swept her arm out over the wall in the direction of the village, "do not have time to concern themselves with the machinations of kings, lords, and knights who see all of this as though it were a chess board, manipulating and maneuvering for more squares. While fighting men spend their days planning and battling to gain more land and wealth, the people of this village work from sunrise to sundown working the land, tending sheep, gathering eggs from chickens, repairing cottages, mending clothing, cooking meals, and praying the weather will be kind to their crops and animals and that the winters will be short and mild."

"You understand the game of chess, my lady?" Hawk asked, genuine surprise in his voice.

"Yes, but that is not the point."

Hawk nodded slowly but Alyce wondered if he truly understood or if he was merely indulging her as a na?ve woman expressing soft-hearted thoughts.

"Their world extends as far as you can see," she continued, undaunted by his doubt. "Few have ever ventured over the tops of those hills in the distance, or even know what lies beyond them. What matters most is that the lord is reasonable, just, and wise in the ways of managing a castle and a village. They want nothing more than to take care of their families and live in peace."

"And the rebels, those who seem to materialize from nothing and attack quickly and fiercely before disappearing back into the wilderness, where are they from?" Hawk's face was dark and sharp, and Alyce felt like the deadly bird had focused on her as his new prey.

"I do not know where the rebels come from, but they are not of Hawkspur Castle or village," Alyce snapped more churlishly than intended. She could not believe that any of the people who lived here would betray the village.

Hawk was staring intently at her, the intensity of his dark eyes unnerving, and his face showing neither gratitude for her explanation nor anger. Alyce shifted her weight on her feet and nervously grabbed a lock of her hair, twisting the curls through her fingers. She looked down at her fidgeting digits when Hawk's eyes moved to her hands, then back to her face.

"Thank you for enlightening me, my lady. You have been most helpful."

"You are welcome," she responded, her tone more curt than intended.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, my lady?"

She let go of the strands of hair and squared her shoulders. "No, sir, you do not."

"Ah," he said, raising his eyebrows.

Alyce took a step backward in preparation to leave. "Mayhap you should visit the village one day soon."

Hawk bowed slightly. "I look forward to it, my lady."

Alyce recoiled, unsure if he expected her to escort him. "I meant only that walking among the villagers may help you to understand the motives behind their existence."

"And I am saying you are right. Will tomorrow suit you, lady, to show me the ways of your village?"

She eyed him warily. Whoever had said to keep your enemies close probably did not have an enemy who looked at them the way Hawk was looking at her now or caused shivers to ripple over their skin as they did over hers at this moment.

"Tomorrow," she agreed reluctantly, "after the morning repast."

Hawk reached for her hand and pressed his lips to her bare knuckles. Her body thrummed as the blood rushed through her veins with an exhilaration she'd not felt in a long while, especially as his warm breath curled over her hand and up her wrist. "I look forward to it, Lady Alyce."

Snatching her hand back, she nodded stiffly and hurried away. How annoying that the source of her renewed energy was none other than a dangerous knight of the king who believed treason lurked in the heart of her brother and every other living soul at Hawkspur.