Joust of Hearts Read online

  “Melisande, love.” Devin tried to rouse her, but she just lay there, deep in her slumber.

  She stirred. He felt a bolt of hope. However, she merely rolled over.

  “It is essential that you wake now,” he said, the hint of a taunting melody in his voice.

  “I do not want to,” she responded as she pulled the thin coverlet over her head.

  “You must.” Devin tried to peek at her.

  “Nay, let me sleep,” she ordered, and snatched at the corner of the sheet he’d lifted.

  Devin chuckled. “You, my lady, are a very difficult person to awaken come the morrow’s dim light. Why, the castle could have fallen down around us and you’d still be abed.”

  Melisande sighed heavily, as if annoyed with the insistent voice that nagged at her while she was trying to sleep.

  “You can’t be angry at me. You need to be found in your own chamber come the dawn.”

  Melisande slowly slid the covering from her face and opened her eyes. “Devin,” she sighed.

  The sound of his lover’s thoroughly feminine voice nearly stole the breath from his chest. “Tempt me not with your beauteous voice, my sweet nymph.” He pulled her up to a seated position and held up the gauzy robe she had so deliciously slid away from her skin at the foot of his bed mere hours ago.

  “Come now, you must retire to your own chamber or you will need to have a very good story for those maids of yours.”

  Melisande rolled her gaze to the rafters and back, then stuck her arms through the sleeves of the robe. Devin helped her down from the bed. “Go now to your room. ’Tis nearly dawn.”

  “Devin, my legs ache,” she complained, yet half asleep as he climbed back up to his bed.

  Devin smiled, pleased with the effect that his lovemaking had left with her. “Fine then, stay if you wish. I do not care what people will say when they find you in my bed,” he said, reclining back onto his pillow, interlocking his fingers behind his head as if he didn’t care a whit.

  “All right. I am going,” she replied, clutching her robe shut.

  “Will I see you downstairs to break our fasts?” he called to her.

  “Not before I sleep more.” She shut the door behind her, weakly shuffling down the hall to her room, glancing hither and thither for persons who might espy her sluggish flight.

  After she had pulled a fresh chemise over her head, Melisande slipped between her coverlets.

  What seemed like moments later, Maggie and Tilly bounded into the room, and one of them threw aside the tapestry so that the sunlight practically set the place afire.

  “Good day, m’lady.”

  “’Tis time to rise and break your fast.”

  She covered her eyes with her hands, the light having caused a searing head pain. “How is it that you two are so cheerful in the morning?” she grumbled in the direction of her maids.

  “We are happy that we are to be staying on at Willowbrook, my lady,” Maggie chirped.

  “So up you go. The day shan’t wait!” Tilly continued. “I have chosen your rose houppelande gown for today.”

  “Oh, very well.” Squinting, she dragged herself to a seated position and wagged her finger at the girls. “However, I will not be wearing a hat—and I will brook no arguments over the matter, either.”

  “A braid then,” Tilly announced.

  “I shall fetch the matching ribbons,” Maggie offered.

  “No braid,” Melisande said firmly.

  “But, m’lady!” Tilly implored.

  “Nay, I shall wear my hair down. Most, if not all, of Lord and Lady Bergavnys’ guests have left and I wish to be more comfortable. That is the end of this conversation.”

  Thanks be to God they complied and stopped pestering her about it.

  * * * *

  Melisande made it down to the great hall before the tables were cleared. She found Devin sitting next to Helena speaking quietly. She cleared her throat politely and interrupted. “Good morrow, Lady Helena.”

  “Ah, good day to you, Melisande. How did you sleep last eventide?”

  “I tossed about in the bed most of the night.” Melisande had chosen her words accurately, but hid the humor behind a sincere countenance. It was her turn to speak boldly and put Devin at a loss.

  “As did I, Lady Helena,” Devin added as he rose from his chair and studied Melisande’s reaction, as if in challenge. Apparently he thought he could not be outdone in jests.

  “Greetings, Devin.”

  He nodded a bow. “Lady Dupree.” Devin pulled out a chair for her on the opposite side of Helena. As he took her elbow, he pressed the white ribbon she had discarded at the foot of his bed last night into her hand. He whispered close to her ear, “Again.” Devin returned to his seat, his gaze never straying from hers.

  Melisande was glad to be seated, as she would surely have swooned at the remembrance. In return, her look penetrated back to Devin as if she were speaking to him without words.

  “Well.” Helena seeped into their private moment. “I must see to some tasks for today, so if you will excuse me. Melisande. Devin.”

  Devin jumped up and offered Helena his arm just as she began to withdraw from her chair.

  “Do not forget about our trip to London on the morrow, Melisande.” Helena left the hall in a swirl of richly embroidered robes.

  When the mistress of Willowbrook was out of sight, Devin rushed to Melisande’s side and knelt on one knee. Taking her hand in his, he kissed her palm. “I cannot bear to be away from you even for a few hours,” he said against her hand.

  “Nor I from you.” She reached out and held his face, giving his jaw and cheek a tender caress.

  “Would you ride with me this day, out farther into the countryside?”

  “I would like that very much,” she replied, removing her hands from him and folding them demurely into her lap. “What shall we do when we get there?” Her question hung in the air, filled with mock innocence.

  Following their lusty romp not hours ago, her jest didn’t go unnoticed. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “I have several ideas,” he said, grinning.

  Melisande leaned down close to Devin’s ear. “I have some ideas as well,” she said, breathing her words the way he had last night.

  A wave of joy washed over Devin. He alone had brought out the devil in the angel before him and it pleased him to no end. He nuzzled her cheek and spoke softly next to her ear. “Not being a very patient man when it comes to these matters, I may not be able to wait that long.”

  Melisande shivered with pleasure, then pulled back just enough to gaze into his eyes. “You’d best be gentle. I can barely walk as it is.”

  “Hm. Then I must finish off the task properly.”

  Melisande giggled.

  * * * *

  Melisande and her lover spent the morning in and around Willowbrook, finding private corners to steal a kiss here, a touch there, and even a place to make hurried, passionate love before they were caught. To her this was heaven. She couldn’t even remember what her life had been like before Devin.

  At one point, Devin had dozed off in the grass behind a garden wall with Melisande by his side. When he’d awakened, he’d found that she’d placed tiny flowers in his hair, and some more were sticking out of his tunic and the tops of his hose. Melisande tried to flee from the ‘two-headed posy monster’, but he caught her, and pulling the flowers from his person, he stuffed them down the front of her dress, ignoring her giggling protests. Then, after kissing her until she couldn’t remember her own name, he lowered them to the ground, shoved her skirts up to her waist and gave her a wicked pounding—the most glorious, soul-shattering sex of her life.

  Even for the sake of propriety she was unable to cease grinning like the village idiot.

  “I’m famished,” he’d remarked after a while.

  “’Tis no wonder, after all that activity.”

  He rolled over and pulled her to him. “I blame you, thou temptress.”

  Mel
isande giggled.

  “Let us make for the great hall to find sustenance.”

  It was at that moment that she realized just how stiff her bones were, owing to his amorous attentions. Though it pained her to do so, she asked for assistance not only to help her recover from her recumbent position, but in addition, she begged his arm to lean on as they walked along.

  And oh, how her smug lover bragged. She feared she’d never hear the end of it, which was fine with her as she never wanted the reason for his posturing to stop.

  * * * *

  After the noon meal, Melisande felt her strength return. Devin had planned for them to go riding, and she could hardly contain her eagerness. She had Tilly and Maggie dress her in something more appropriate in which she could more comfortably ride. They chose her soft blue, lightweight robes, intricately embroidered with dark blue birds of prey and flowers and a short riding cape in a rich cornflower with white rabbit fur lining. A matching chaperon had a wide pouch of lace netting in which to catch Melisande’s hair. Her maids insisted on the hat for the ride. They commented that the hues of the outfit made her eyes seem very bright azure as opposed to their usual dull gray, which she thought perfectly fit her disposition after the morning’s vigorous activities. Her reflection in a large, framed polished silver pane showed that her cheeks echoed the glow of love that had bloomed within her breast.

  For the first time in her life, she felt utterly alive.

  She came upon Devin already at the stables waiting for her. He wore a long, dark gray tunic over his tight, white, long-sleeved tabard, which emphasized his muscular arms. A thick silver belt sat about his slim hips, and tight white hose covered his powerful upper legs. His tall black riding boots shone like new in the light of the afternoon sun.

  “Ready for our ride?” he asked, his smile as devastating as ever.

  “I am. And what a blessing to have such a handsome man to accompany me.” Melisande’s gaze took him in once again. She observed the black panther’s head on his tunic—it seemed familiar somehow, but she couldn’t recall why.

  Devin helped Melisande onto her side-saddle, then mounted his steed. “Come. I wager your pretty little mare, Guinevere, can keep up with Hector’s strides.” Devin and Hector took off at full gallop. Melisande sat staring for a moment, feeling slightly left out.

  “Well, Guinevere, it’s just you and me now.” She clicked her gentle mount into a trot.

  After she reached the first bend, she observed Devin riding back toward her, approaching at full stride.

  He brought Hector to a halt next to Guinevere. “Pray forgive me.” He sounded out of breath. “I did not realize how little you ride.”

  “Thank you for your consideration, Devin,” she said, attempting to sound sardonic, but she couldn’t hold back the humor that surely shone in her eyes.

  “Teasing me, are you?” He tisked. “Such impudence.” He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, teasing her tongue with his. All too soon he pulled away, leaving her quite unsatisfied.

  He grinned, obviously understanding that which her ersatz pout revealed. “Let us reach our destination and mayhaps we will finish this.”

  “Mayhaps?”

  Devin chuckled. “Saucy wench.”

  They headed south for a short time and Devin led them into a dense copse of trees that provided protection from prying eyes. In the center was a grassy area large enough to accommodate the horses.

  Surrounded by a thick hedge, Devin and Melisande lay down, facing each other in the grass. Melisande inhaled deeply of the fresh air. The sound of many birds flitting here and about and chirping happily made her feel relaxed enough that she could take a nap. However, when she looked at Devin, the vision that came to her was far too sweet to pass up. She’d ask him to take his clothes off then she’d strip down for him. They could then ravish each other and be like two beasts in the wild. Could she ask him for such a thing? Would it be terribly unladylike?

  Much to Melisande’s disenchantment, Devin spoke first. “I have wanted to ask you something, Melisande.”

  “What is it?” She leaned up on her elbow, inquisitiveness taking the place of her lusty idea.

  Devin gazed at her for a moment. He drew a labored breath and continued, “What think you of the Willowbrook games?”

  The Willowbrook games was not a choice topic, for certain. That was a question she would have expected from Liam, not this gentle lover she now looked upon with curiosity. She watched his face, trying to read his thoughts. She could not understand what this particular subject had to do with them.

  “The truth,” he added.

  Melisande decided to share her innermost thoughts with him. Why, she had shared everything else with him, beginning last night. She adjusted her position to lie fully next to him then laid her head to rest atop her folded arm and sighed. “Devin, this is something that pleases me naught to speak of, but you did ask.” Preparing for the unpleasant task of telling a true tale from her own life, Melisande became uncomfortable, so she sat up, placed her hands in her lap, and stared off into the distance.

  “My late husband was knight to Lord Herbert Lancaster. We were married shortly after he retired from serving the noble, yet all he spoke of were the great battles he fought in, the weapons, the bloodsport…”

  Devin shrugged and started to speak, but her next words halted him.

  “There is more. He was old, aye, but he was also a ruthless man. Please do not think he was always that way—he never struck me… Well, not intentionally—”

  Devin sat up, his abrupt action interrupting her tale. “Intentionally? I do not understand. You were but a child,” Devin stated, indignation in his voice.

  “Liam threw things. He pushed, he shouted— ’Twas as if he had…fits of rage. If everything did not go his way, whether it was the serfs or the crops, he would become very angry.”

  “‘Angry’ seems to be a mild way of describing such a disposition,” Devin said, obviously perturbed. “How could a man—much less a knight—treat you with anything but reverence and respect?”

  Melisande looked down at her folded hands for a moment. Familiar emotions overwhelmed her, filling her eyes with tears. “His rage frightened me. However, ’twas his right to treat me thus, for I was his wife.” Devin opened his mouth to protest, when Melisande ended her account. “I have never told anyone this.”

  It took a moment for Devin to respond. “The weight of your situation must have been difficult to endure,” he said, his voice tremulous with emotion.

  Melisande nodded.

  Devin moved to sit next to her and placed his arm protectively around her shoulders.

  “’Tis why I do not like hostilities of any kind, be it mock battles or otherwise. I never wish to be part or party to that sort of vice ever again.” She dabbed at the salty droplets that threatened to fall from her eyes with her sleeves.

  Devin moved, this time to sit before her. “Not all knights are this way—most especially the more honorable men of the brotherhood.”

  “I have yet to meet a knight who does not continually talk of swords and killing…”

  “Aye, you have indeed, Melisande.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Of whom do you speak?” Melisande looked to him for his answer.

  From inside his tunic, Devin pulled out a single red rose with a dark gray ribbon tied in a bow around its stem and handed the flower to her.

  “I do not understand. What does a rose have to do with—” With a start she recognized the ribbon and remembered the championing of the knight at the joust.

  The realization hit her like a blow to the stomach.

  She drew a tremulous breath. “You are the Black Knight?” Her voice faltered, barely a whisper. She stared at him for a few long, painful moments, her jaw slack with astonishment. The rose in Melisande’s hand began to shake. Schooling her tremors, she felt her features turn to granite.

  Devin’s words came out in a rush. “Melisande, I observed your counten
ance during the matches. I knew something had bothered you. I decided not to tell you—”

  She interrupted him. “You. Decided?”

  “Melisande, I never meant to betray—”

  “Had I but known of… I would never have given myself… The things we did! Why, I let you—” A sob escaped from Melisande. Appalled at her behavior and sickened by his deception, she covered her mouth with her free hand. Tears began to flow from her eyes as the situation stabbed her heart like a thousand thorns.

  “Melisande, please—” He raised his hands palm up to her in silent supplication.

  A voice came from off in the distance. “Sir Devin? Sir Devin!”

  Melisande stood up and took a few steps in the opposite direction of the voice, trying in vain to pat dry the tears that continued to fall from her lashes.

  “Who calls?” Devin demanded.

  “’Tis I, Parker, my lord.” His young squire came running around the hedge.

  “What is it?”

  Parker was out of breath from running. “’Tis Sir Frederick. He needs your assistance. A York,” the young man spat the label, “is trying to seize his lands from the north.”

  Devin could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Without any regard at all to the alliance between the houses of Tudor and his own York?”

  “To this rogue, it matters not,” Parker announced with indignation.

  “Have you gathered my suit and weapons?”

  “Aye, my lord. All is ready for the journey save for thee.”

  “I will go now.” He took a few bounding steps toward his horse but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Melisande’s little mare grazing with his mighty stallion. Devin shook inside as he turned to face Melisande.

  She stood there, her teeth clenched, her gaze hard.

  “Melisande—” Devin implored.

  “You lied to me.”

  She spoke with an intense force, as if her words were individual statements. She did this, he had noticed, when attempting to keep her anger in check. The echo hung in the air like a gloomy mist, but before Devin could defend himself she continued.