Page 19 of To Protect

ChapterEight

Roland raised his hand up to aid Amalia as she dismounted. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that the entire ride home, he’d thought of this moment, when their hands would touch. When they did, he forgot to hide the longing that had been building up all day.

Their eyes locked, and when she was on the ground, nothing and no one could persuade him to let go of her hand, even when decorum dictated he should have done so already. The stable boy could have been greeting Sir Eamon rather than asking if he should take their mounts, and still Roland would have been reluctant to let her go.

Unfortunately, the stable boy did intervene.

“My lord?”

Roland dropped her hand. Amalia spun from him, perhaps embarrassed.

“You can take them,” he said, patting his mount on the flank and handing over the reins. Roland watched as both mounts were led into the stable.

She was looking up at the sky. Roland approached, stood beside her and looked up as well.

“A celestial guide reminiscent of the honor that should light our noble path in this earthly realm.”

Amalia’s head snapped back down to him.

“My father’s words, not mine,” Roland clarified.

“It seems he is a wise man?”

“Very much so.”

Darkness had fallen, but the moon illuminated the courtyard as he and Amalia walked toward it. Most of the men were either in the hall, lingering after their meals, or abed already. Training before breaking their fast meant little time for dalliances, but a few of his fellow recruits had likely found ways to accomplish that as well.

“Yet you are here, defying him?”

“Men, women . . . can be worthy of our admiration even if our ideals do not align.”

“Do you think him selfish, for siding with the king for the purpose of keeping his lands and titles?”

With a downward gaze, his attention returned to Amalia. “I do not think it selfish, but believe my father when he claims his legacy matters more than his own status. Though to support an unjust cause, even for the sake of your own children—something he insists I will only understand when I become a father myself . . . ” Roland shrugged. “I do not agree with him.”

“Do you wish for children of your own?”

A sudden vision of making said children with Amalia forced Roland to shift his stance.

“Someday. And you?”

“Aye. I wish for children. A husband. But neither so much as . . . ” She stopped speaking just as they prepared to enter the keep. In a few moments they’d be separated, and tomorrow would bring more training than usual, courtesy of Roland’s skipped lessons that day.

Wanting to learn what Amalia wished for more than a husband and children, and not wanting to be parted from her yet, Roland said, “Come with me.”

Without giving her an opportunity to decline, Roland strode upward to a secluded turret of the main keep with a view of the vast, star-strewn tapestry above. He knew of this spot after having discovered it looking for a respite from the bustling halls during his explorations of the castle’s many corridors.

“Do not be alarmed,” he said, removing his sword and belt. “I only wish to use my surcoat as a place on which for you to sit.”

A nearby torch, one of many that dotted the parapet, made her expression easily readable. She was alarmed, nonetheless. “I cannot sit on your surcoat.”

He’d removed it already, laying it on the stone floor beneath them. His linen tunic underneath provided scant protection against the chill of the night, but he cared little for such matters.

“Aye,” he said, holding his hand out to her so that she may do so. “You can.”

Looking between him and his tunic, Amalia did sit, arranging her gown as best as she was able around her. Roland sat beside her, leaning back on his hands and looking up to the sky once again so that she would not be embarrassed to finish her tale.

“Now tell me, Mistress Amalia, what do you wish for more than a husband and children?”