The voice inside his head was, for a change, silent.
He wasn’t sure if that was an improvement or not.
Chapter 16
M ary stood in the lists and wished she’d had a bit of sword skill. She had aunts enough who could defend themselves if necessary. Even her mother had wielded a blade in her youth with great success. If she’d been able to do the like, she would have used a very sharp dagger on one of the men she was watching and that man wouldn’t have been Zachary. It would have been Connor, for he was fighting with Zachary and he wasn’t holding back.
She supposed it could have been worse. It could have been Jackson trying to reduce Zachary to tears. He’d been threatening the like for two days now, since Zachary had bested him so thoroughly in the courtyard with his bare hands alone. She supposed some of his anger was over that. The rest came from a misplaced determination to defend her.
She had discussed with him her lack of need for that in angry whispers that morning during Mass, something he never attended more than once a year. He had spent most of his time pointing out to her that Zachary was a rogue he intended to kill at his earliest opportunity. She had called him a dozen kinds of idiot. The conversation, if it could have been called such, had deteriorated from there until they’d both been asked to leave the chapel. Jackson had scowled at her, then stalked off, no doubt to visit the armory to see if there might be something there to add to his already too-large collection of sharp things.
She had retreated to the lists to see how Zachary fared. He had begun his day with Thaddeus, but soon moved on to Connor. At least her father was only watching him at present instead of offering very caustic opinions on how Zachary could improve himself.
Mary had been surprised at the way her father had from the very beginning subjected Zachary to a steady stream of criticism about where he was failing to live up to expectations. On those very rare occasions when he had actually deigned to work with someone, he always put them through several weeks of the simplest of exercises before he began to critique their technique. She had witnessed more than one man look at her father in disbelief at his harshness, then turn and walk off the field, having found Robin of Artane’s requirements to be a little too demanding for his taste. Zachary, however, hadn’t flinched. He had merely performed with exactness whatever her father had told him to do.
As Parsival had remarked more than once, Zachary certainly looked like a lad who wanted something very much.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that something might be.
She took a deep breath and looked to her right to where her father stood watching Zachary. She didn’t like to disturb him in the lists, but today she was past the point of fretting over niceties. She walked over to him and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. He looked down at her in surprise, then turned back to the fight in front of him. He was silent for so long she would have suspected he’d forgotten she was there if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was patting her hand occasionally. He patted her mother as well, when he was thinking difficult thoughts that he wasn’t sure she would want to discuss.
Her father was, as her mother would have readily admitted, a very tenderhearted man under all his grumbles.
He cleared his throat suddenly. “Would you want that lad out there if he stayed?” he asked quietly.
“He won’t stay, Father,” she said just as quietly, “for reasons he will not name. In his own way, he’s easily as stubborn as you are.”
“Am I stubborn?” he asked, feigning puzzlement. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Father, you want me to marry Geoffrey of Styrr. Against my will, I might add.”
He pursed his lips. “I think you should be a wife and mother, gel. He seems the least objectionable of all the fools who’ve come to look at you.”
“He beats his horses and his dogs.”
“Very well, he seemed to be the least objectionable of all the fools who came for you. He is, if you’ll think about it, still the least objectionable.”
“What does that say about the others?”
Her father only muttered something under his breath and refused to answer.
“Was Grandfather this pigheaded with you?”
“Pigheaded,” he repeated soundlessly. He shot her a dark look. “I am not pigheaded.”
“You also attended your wedding with a sword in your back.”
His mouth moved soundlessly a bit longer, then he scowled at her. “You, Maryanne, could stand to temper your words.”
She smiled up at him. “I love you, Father.”
He turned her to him and put his arms around her. He held her in silence for quite some time, then he cleared his throat again. “I love you,” he said gruffly. “You wee feisty wench.”
She smiled against his chest. She turned her head and watched Connor and Zachary fight. She wasn’t sure how long Zachary would last, but he seemed to be holding his own at present.
“Who do you think he is?” she murmured.
“Someone who loves you, I daresay.”
She sighed deeply. “A pity he must leave.”
“I think he believes he has no choice. And if he weren’t so bloody stubborn, he might give you all the reasons why. He won’t give them to me.”
“Have you asked?”
“Repeatedly, whilst beating upon him with my sword.”
“You like him, don’t you?”
“For all the good it does either of us, love, aye, I find him tolerable enough. He might even manage to tame you with enough time, something not even I have managed.” He shook his head. “My first mistake was putting you up on a horse. I see that now.”
She looked up at him. “Thank you for it, Father.”
He kissed her forehead, smiled, then pushed her head back against his shoulder. “Take that lad there for a ride along the strand, daughter, after Connor’s finished with him. I daresay you both deserve a respite from more serious things.”
“He has welcomed the training, Father.”
“All for you, Mary,” he said very quietly. “All for you.”
Mary had to think very grim thoughts about potential injuries incurred whilst falling off her horse to keep her burning eyes from leaking.
She watched Connor put the finishing touches on Zachary, though she readily admitted that it hadn’t been easily done. They were a match in size and strength, though Connor certainly had the advantage of having had a sword in his hands from the time he’d been able to hold one. It was apparent, though, that Zachary had paid attention to what her father had taught him. And whatever skill he might have lacked, he made up for through sheer determination.
Zachary finally conceded the battle. Connor put his hand on Zachary’s shoulder in passing, said something that made Zachary laugh, then continued on his way to what she was certain would be one of the ale kegs in the kitchen.
Zachary stretched his arms over his head, then resheathed his sword before he came to stand in front of her sire. He smiled at her briefly, then made her father a low bow.
“My lord,” he added politely. “Your thoughts?”
Robin considered with a frown. “You didn’t show poorly, for as long as you managed it. We’ll discuss later where you went astray. For now, I think you’ve earned something to eat and a very small rest.”
“Very generous, my lord.”
“I am that, always,” Robin agreed. “Just return prepared to work very hard this afternoon—”
“Why doesn’t he face me now instead?” Jackson interrupted angrily.
Mary looked over her shoulder to find Jackson standing ten paces away, a less-than-welcoming look on his face. He only had one sword, which boded well, though she could see hilts of daggers poking up from the sides of his boots. Then again, Zachary was sporting an equal number of blades, so there was no advantage there. She was tempted to remind Jackson of everything she’d already told him that morning, but she suspected he wouldn’t hear any more
of it now than he had then.
“He won’t face you,” her father said evenly, turning to his nephew, “because I said not now. Because whatever he did to you the other night is nothing more than you deserved. ’Tis passing unsporting to assault a man with your sword when he has no sword himself, especially when that man has been a guest in my hall. Something a knight of your breeding and experience should know.”
“Is he afeared—”
“Jackson,” Robin said sharply, “if you don’t cease immediately, I will stir myself to remind you why I am master here. I guarantee you will not enjoy the experience.”
Jackson fought with himself for a moment or two, then let out his breath slowly. He made his uncle a low bow, then turned to Zachary.
“I apologize.”
“Forgiven,” Zachary said without hesitation.
“I’ll kill you later, when my uncle says I might.”
And with that, he turned and strode away. Her father watched him go, then turned to Zachary.
“I’d suggest you watch your back, lad.”
“Warning heeded, my lord.”
Her father seemed to be fighting his smile. “I imagine he didn’t care for your treatment of him the other night.”
“I had business with you, my lord,” Zachary said calmly, “and he was in my way.”
Robin laughed briefly, then clapped a hand on Zachary’s shoulder. “I leave my daughter in your care, then, since you appear to be quite capable of protecting her. I’ll expect you back in a pair of hours, though, whether Jackson is in your way again or not.” He looked at Zachary, then laughed and walked away, presumably to keep Jackson from planning a violent bit of business just the same.
Mary watched him go, then turned to Zachary. He was drenched in sweat, but so beautiful in spite of it, she could hardly draw a decent breath.
All for you, Mary.
“You worked hard,” she offered.
“I have good reason to,” he said. He reached out presumably to tuck the lock of hair that was falling over her eye back behind her ear, then he paused. “I don’t dare touch you in my current state. I could go have a wash and meet you somewhere though, if you like.”
“The stables are comfortable,” she offered.
“And so they are,” he agreed. “I’ll go have a wash, then meet you there.” He paused, then looked over his shoulder at Thaddeus. “You’ll protect her until I return?”
Thaddeus nodded solemnly.
Zachary made her a small bow, then walked out of the lists. Mary watched him go, then looked at Thaddeus, who had been leaning against the wall, silently watching the madness.
“I thought you were his guard. Or was that Connor?”
“He doesn’t need either of us any longer,” Thaddeus said with a smile, “but you do. Let’s be about finding something edible. Your love will arrive intact, I imagine.”
He isn’t my love, she started to say, then she realized she was past denying it.
The saints pity her.
A quarter hour later, she was staring at food she couldn’t bring herself to eat and watching Zachary as he downed things seemingly without regard to their taste. He drained his cup, then looked at her.
“Rex looks restless. He might need a run.”
She felt a little breathless. “I daresay he might.”
“Which is your father’s second-fastest steed?”
“Bella,” she said without hesitation. “And she’s mine.”
He smiled. “Of course she is. I imagine I don’t dare ride her, though.”
“Or Rex, for that matter,” Jackson said flatly from where he stood at the edge of their circle, apparently unwilling to come any closer.
Mary shot him a warning look. He scowled, then folded his arms over his chest. She turned back to Zachary.
“I’ll ride Bella if you think you can manage Rex. He’s very obedient under saddle.”
“I’ll manage,” he said gamely, “if you’re up for a race along the beach.”
“Absolutely not!” Jackson exclaimed.
Mary rose without hesitation and went to saddle Rex, leaving Bella for Zachary to see to. She could hear her cousins tripping over themselves to ready their mounts and Jackson swearing very loudly as he joined them in doing the same.
She met Zachary in front of the stables, then traded him reins.
“He’ll test you,” she warned.
“Is he worse than your father?”
She smiled. “I’ve never met my father over blades, so I’m not one to judge. If you can get yourself on his back, though, he probably won’t throw you off.”
He laughed uneasily. “Don’t leave me behind if he does.” He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ears, then pulled her hood up. “I’ll race you.”
“And my prize when I win?”
“Name it.”
Your heart was the first thing that came to mind, followed closely by your smile every day of my life. But she could say neither. She let out her breath slowly.
“Whatever it is, it will come very dear indeed. But I suppose you might require the same of me.”
He smiled. “You know you’re inspiring me to win, Maryanne.”
She looked down at the reins in her hand, then up at him. “Why do you call me that?”
“Because it is a very beautiful name. And because it’s your name.” He looked at Rex, then at her. “Let’s go.”
She swung up onto Bella and watched him do the same with Rex. Rex was behaving fairly well so far, but she could tell he knew something was afoot. Zachary had to hold him back all the way through the village and over the dunes. She supposed her cousins were keeping up. She honestly couldn’t have said.
“Be prepared to lose,” he said, struggling to keep Rex in check, “and pay a very high price indeed.”
Mary smiled in spite of herself, then called a fair start. She thought that Zachary might have blurted out either a prayer or a curse as Rex leapt forward. He was in a full-on gallop within half a dozen strides, but Bella matched him stride for stride.
Zachary was, she soon found, an excellent rider. He was also on the faster horse, but in the end that didn’t matter. She would have liked to have said she’d won because she was more skilled, but the truth was she pulled ahead of Zachary only because he made a mistake or two that didn’t allow Rex his full power. She laughed for the sheer joy of the speed, slowing Bella only when she heard Zachary plead for mercy.
Rex didn’t particularly care for the cessation of his sport and made certain Zachary knew it. She rode Bella in a large circle to cool her off and watched Zachary as he struggled to convince Rex that he should do the same. She rode beside him finally, trotting back down the beach toward her cousins, who had never come close to catching them.
“I am bested,” Zachary said, his chest heaving, “and flawlessly done.”
“You kept up at least. And you are still atop Rex’s back. I’m certain Jackson was very jealous.”
He slid her an amused look. “Has Rex thrown him?”
“Half a dozen times.”
Zachary laughed. “I won’t remind him of that. But since you have bested me so thoroughly, what will you have? Shall I go make you a dagger and teach you to use it?”
She hesitated. “Not that the dagger you made wasn’t ... well ...”
“Useful?” he supplied politely.
“I’m not sure I would have chosen that word.”
“But since I did, you’ll use it?”
“I don’t think admitting that will serve me.”
He laughed and swung down from Rex. “I’m under no illusions. What would you say instead to a walk along the beach?”
“If you like.”
He turned to her cluster of cousins, who had come to a halt ten paces away. “Anyone care to come tend horses for us?”
Thaddeus handed his reins to Connor, then jumped off his horse to come take Rex and Bella. Mary felt herself begin to blush when Zachary held up his hands to help her
from her horse, but she supposed there was no point in trying to hold on to her dignity any longer. If her cousins didn’t know how she felt about the man setting her gently on the sand, they were fools.
And they weren’t fools.
Jackson leaned on the pommel of his saddle and scowled at Zachary. “Divulge your plans,” he said shortly, “and I’ll see if I approve.”
Zachary folded his arms over his chest and looked up at Jackson. “My plans are none of your business.”
Jackson began to splutter.
Zachary took her hand and pulled her along with him.
“Let’s hurry before he decides to come kill me.”
“You vex him overmuch,” she said breathlessly.
“I can’t help myself. The results are so satisfying.”
She smiled up at him, into his sea-colored eyes, until something occurred to her and she had to look away. She found herself suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of loss. She looked out to sea and struggled to ignore the urge to weep.
She didn’t want to ask him if vexing Jackson was his only reason for spiriting her away from her relatives. She didn’t care if it was. In truth, she had no use for Zachary past his usefulness in helping her be released from a betrothal she couldn’t bear the thought of.
She wasn’t at all affected by the fairness of his face, or his strength of arm, or that he was purposely putting himself in harm’s way for her benefit alone. She wouldn’t mind if she never saw his smile again, or heard his laugh, or watched him watch her by the light of a torch with that very small smile on his face, as if she were something very precious and he feared she might vanish if he looked away.
Nay, she didn’t care for him at all. In fact, she would be very happy to see the last of—
She found herself suddenly with her nose pressed against his chest and his arms around her. She felt him pull her braid from inside her cloak and smooth his hand over her hair. And then she did what she never did.
She wept.
He made a noise of distress and gathered her closer to him. He held her as tenderly as she ever could have imagined that a perfect knight would have. He didn’t seem to mind that she was drenching him, or that she was not a tidy weeper, or that she couldn’t keep from clutching the back of his tunic under his cloak so tightly that it was likely cutting off quite a bit of his air. He only kept one arm around her waist and one hand either brushing her hair back from her face or brushing away her tears.