If Not For The Knight by Debbie Boek (ebook reader below 3000 TXT) 📖

“Edgar is gone now. Perhaps it is time for you to give Calder a chance to prove himself to you.”

“Mayhap,” she answered thoughtfully, not exactly sure of what he was implying, or how much he knew of her relationship with Calder.

“I will advise him that you are ready with your report.” With a nod in her direction, he turned toward the Manor and walked away.

Her summons for dinner with the Lord arrived by way of Skeet, the squire, a short time later. She was so nervous that she could barely dress her hair, or herself, properly as she got ready to meet Calder. Nor could she help noticing her father's sullen look when she dropped Radolf off at their cottage and kissed him goodnight before she left.

“Why do you leave him for the night, when you only go to the Manor for your evening meal, girl?” he asked her suspiciously.

She flushed, afraid that he had realized that her true desire for this evening was to spend it in Calder's arms. How could she ever explain to anyone, particularly her father, how she felt, the sadness that enveloped her every time she had looked at Edgar and realized that she felt nothing but loathing and disrespect for the man that he had become.

Grief bit deep into her soul at the thought that this was the man she had willingly wed and must now spend the rest of her life with. How could she tell her father about the piercingly sharp pain that twisted in her heart each time she saw Calder and knew that he could never be hers?

Calder was a man that any woman would gladly take into her heart, and her bed, she thought wistfully. A man that made every nerve in her body tingle when she saw him, even if at a distance. A man whose strength and compassion battled within himself to always do what was right. A man who could make her feel beautiful and wanted and needed with only a single glance. How could she explain these things to her father?

“I have no knowledge as to how long it will take us to go over the information that I have accumulated. I do not want to disturb Radolf's sleep if it takes until a late hour. Is there a problem with his staying here?”

Her voice was sad, resigned to the fact that her relationship with her father had changed. For Regan, there were now lies and deceit where there had been none before. For Filbert, disappointment and embarrassment over the behavior of the daughter he had once felt could do no wrong.

“Of course not, Regan,” he said, reaching out and burying his hand in her rich curls. “I fear for you, lass. Do not get yourself into a position where you have only disgrace and heartache to show for it.”

Her face turned a deeper shade of red, knowing what he meant, and also knowing that it was exactly what she intended to do.

“I know what I am doing, Father. Please don't worry about me.”

“But, I must worry. I love you, Regan,” he said sadly.

“I love you also, Father,” she responded, hugging him fiercely before turning toward the Manor, her back straight and proud as she walked.

She first spotted Calder across the room, lifting a tankard of ale with one of his men. He was so handsome that just looking at him from a distance took her breath away. It was impossible not to see those strong fingers holding the tankard and remember their gentleness as they had roamed her body. Watching his quick smile in response to Garrick's jest, she could envision his full lips taking her own until she lost herself to him completely.

“Milady.” Draco's deep voice came from close beside her, startling her from her thoughts and causing her to blush.

“Hello, Draco,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Shall I escort you over to Lord Calder?”

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, placing her hand on his arm, which felt more like the trunk of a tree than flesh and blood.

Calder turned toward them as they approached and his face lit up at the sight of her. “Milady,” he said graciously, giving her a low bow. “I swear, you look lovelier this evening than any woman I have had the pleasure to lay eyes on.”

“Thank you, Milord.” Blushing with the compliment and feeling self-conscious in the presence of others, she smoothed the frayed fabric of her well-worn kirtle. “You look quite dashing yourself.”

“Oh, please,” Draco grumbled, as he walked away to find a tankard for himself. Calder smiled tenderly down at Regan, but she frowned when she saw the dark circles under his eyes and the fatigue lining his face.

“Is all not well, Milord?” she asked with concern, as he took her arm and escorted her to his table.

“The castle is coming along well.” Settling in close beside her, he continued. “But the thieves are stealing our cattle at night now. We've been taking turns patrolling, but in the darkness we have not yet been able to catch them. They seem to have grown much bolder of late.”

Calder rubbed his brow in fatigue, then looked deeply into her eyes as if searching her very soul for something. “I've missed you,” he said softly, so that no one else could hear.

“You've oft been on my mind, as well, Milord,” she answered, lowering her eyes to the table.

Sensing her discomfort, he decided to move on to safer subjects. They had a lengthy discussion as to the information she had obtained while they enjoyed their meal. Once they finished and his men moved away, to play games or converse in groups, he took her hand in his.

“Will you be able to stay here with me tonight? I was most distressed when I woke to find myself alone last week.”

Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest and, unable to keep from blushing, she answered shyly, “I can stay for awhile, Milord, but not the entire night. I must be gone before anyone sees me leave here.”

“Someday soon, I promise you,” he said tenderly, stroking the back of her hand with his finger, “we will be able to spend the entire night in each other's arms and watch the sun come up together.”

Knowing it was a promise that could never be fulfilled, Regan simply nodded. Dropping her gaze towards the table again, she hesitated, then asked, “Has there been any word of Edgar?”

When he did not answer, she looked up and saw the troubled expression on his face.

“We got close enough to the thieves last night to shoot one of their horses out from under them.” Calder paused, his eyes cold. “It was one of our own horses, one that Edgar had stolen. It appears he may be behind this recent bit of thievery.”

“Oh, no,” she said regretfully.

“Yes, Regan, and when we catch him, which we will do, he will be put to death. You understand that, don't you?” His jaw clenched in anger at the tears he saw forming in her eyes. “Why do you care after all he has done to you?”

“He is my husband and Radolf's father,” she answered simply. “How do I explain to Radolf that his father is a thief and an attempted murderer?”

Unless I tell him the truth of who his father is, she thought miserably, knowing it was something that must be done, but not knowing the right way, or the right time to tell Calder. It seemed the longer she waited, the more difficult it became.

“You tell him that a man does not have to become what his father was and let him live a life of his own. RadoIf has much courage and character already for one so young. He could only be hurt by having Edgar as his father.” Calder's voice was soft and cold as he spoke, an ice wedge pounding into Regan's heart as she listened to his words.

“I know,” she whispered softly, trying not to cry at the thought of what she might be doing to her own son.

“Come with me,” Calder said, taking her hand and leading her through the hallway to a back staircase and up to his room. His knights all pretended not to notice, but the servant girls were not so polite as they ogled the couple and whispered amongst themselves.

Once they entered the bedchamber, he had Regan sit on the bed as he knelt before her. “Regan,” he whispered urgently, taking her hand in his, “do you believe, by my bringing you here, that I am making you my whore? Or do you believe that I want you with all my heart and soul and cannot live another moment without you in my arms? Answer me the truth, for I will not take advantage of you.”

“What if I believe both, Milord? For surely, if anyone knows I am here, it is as your whore that I will be branded.”

“In your heart, where it matters most, do you believe that?” he asked, his blue eyes penetrating into the deepest recesses of her soul.

“No,” she said softly, “I believe you care for me as strongly as I do for you.”

“Will you have me tonight?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Aye, Milord, I will have you anytime that you want me.” Regan realized that, with those words, she sealed her own fate. It was inevitable that others would learn of her relationship with Calder and she prayed that Radolf would not have to suffer the consequences of her actions. She gave herself, now and forever, to Calder, and could only hope that he truly was the person that she believed him to