Alys Clare - The Tavern in the Morning

He said, equally softly, ‘I won’t. Not until you move that knife.’

As soon as he spoke, he felt his assailant relax.

And Joanna said, ‘Sir Josse! I thought you were-’ She stopped.

‘Denys de Courtenay?’

She stood a pace off, eyeing him. In the dim light of the clearing, it was difficult to read her face, shaded as it was by a fold of her woollen shawl. To her credit, she didn’t even try saying innocently, ‘Denys who?’ Instead, sheathing her knife, she remarked, ‘You’ve met him, then.’

‘Not I. But while I was being cared for by the sisters at Hawkenlye Abbey — for the after-effects of my concussion — he paid a visit to its Abbess.’

‘Abbess Helewise.’ She nodded. ‘I have heard tell of her.’

‘Do I sense approval?’

‘You do. They — my informant held her in high regard. She — they only knew of the Abbess by repute, but that was enough for the formation of a good opinion.’

‘Rightly founded. Abbess Helewise is a fine woman. Who, I might add, shares your opinion of Denys de Courtenay.’

‘I was not aware of having ventured an opinion,’ Joanna said frostily.

‘You don’t deny that you know him?’

She hesitated. ‘No. There seems little point. He and my late father were cousins.’

‘And he is searching for you,’ Josse said. ‘According to him, you are half out of your wits with grief, unhinged from the pain of losing your husband in a hunting accident and you-’

‘I’m what? ’ She burst out laughing, a musical peal that rang through the silent glade. ‘Is that the best he could do? Anxious cousin, sole strong, protective male relation, searching for grief-stricken and feeble young widow? Great heavens, I’d have thought Denys could have come up with something a little more original.’

‘Neither Abbess Helewise nor I believed him,’ Josse said.

‘Why not?’ she demanded instantly.

‘Me, because I had met you. Seen your fear, observed your desperate need to hide from someone, whom I guessed to be Denys. The Abbess because, as I said, she has met him. ’

‘And she didn’t take to him.’ It was a statement, not a question.

Josse laughed briefly. ‘You could say that.’ His knees were beginning to ache from contact with the cold ground. ‘May I get up?’

‘Oh, yes, yes. Of course.’

They faced each other from two paces apart. He could see her face more clearly now; the dark eyes were watchful, and the slight frown suggested she was thinking hard.

Thinking that it might not be such a bad idea after all to confide in him?

He said tentatively, ‘I have a great will to help you, Joanna. I believe I know more about you than you think and, if you will accept my word, I swear to you that I will protect you from-’

‘I don’t need protection!’ she cried.

He took a step closer to her. ‘No?’ he shouted. ‘Perhaps not, although I wouldn’t back your small blade against the man who damned nearly smashed my head in, for no greater provocation than that he didn’t want me following him!’

‘You let him take you unawares,’ she shouted back, ‘as you did just now with me! I know him better, sir knight, and I take more care!’

‘He will find you, Joanna!’ Josse insisted. ‘You know now what methods he uses — you must agree!’

She had gone very still. ‘Methods?’ she repeated, her voice a whisper.

Good God, didn’t she know? ‘Mag Hobson is dead,’ he said gently.

‘Yes, so I heard.’

‘You have contact with the world, then? You speak to people, now and again?’

She shrugged that off. ‘I go in for provisions sometimes. My face well covered, you’ll be relieved to hear. News of Mag’s death was still fresh, the last time I visited Tonbridge.’

‘So fresh, I would judge, that they didn’t know how she died.’

‘She drowned! Slipped on the icy bank and fell into the pond!’ He made no answer. ‘Didn’t she?’

He was reluctant to tell her. But perhaps, if he did, it would serve to persuade her of her vulnerability.

No woman, he was sure, not even Joanna, was a match for Denys de Courtenay.

‘Mag was attacked,’ he said neutrally. ‘She was beaten, some of her fingers were broken, then her head was held down under the water till she was dead.’

Joanna’s hands flew to her mouth, half muffling her cry. ‘Oh, no! Oh, Mag, no!’

Pursuing the advantage of having breached her defences, he said, ‘To make her tell him where you were, do you think? To make her reveal the whereabouts of that old manor house she took you to? Where she hid you away, so that he couldn’t find you? Where she-’

‘Stop!’ she shouted. Then, her shoulders beginning to heave as her sobs took hold, she said shakily, ‘Please, please, stop!’

And the gloved hands now entirely covered her face as Joanna gave herself to her grief.

It was more than he could stand. He stepped forward and took her in his arms, cradling her face against his chest, stroking the back of her head. The rough shawl fell back, and he felt her smooth hair, slipping easily beneath the leather of his gloved palm. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured, ‘so sorry, Joanna. But you have to know the truth, you must be aware of the lengths he will go to in order to find you.’

She went on sobbing. He closed his arms around her, bending to kiss the top of her head. His gestures were instinctive, intended to comfort her, as he might comfort a child or a frightened animal. To let her know she wasn’t entirely alone, that someone …

Whatever he intended, it was not what she understood. Leaning back in his arms, face turned up to his, suddenly she put her hands behind his head and, pulling him down towards her, kissed him hard full on the mouth.

With her strong, lithe body pressed against him, he began instantly to respond. His mouth opening, he eased her lips further apart with his tongue, caressing hers, feeling the violent sexual excitement flood through him. He could feel her breasts pushed up against his chest, feel her muscular legs firm against his thighs. Feel his erection, hard and full.

Breaking away, she stepped back a pace. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she said, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’

Lost for words, he said the first thing that entered his head. ‘Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say?’

Amazingly, she chuckled. ‘Not when it was so plainly I who started it.’ Then, remembering, she said, ‘Oh, sweet Lord. What am I to do?’

‘Let me help!’ he said quickly. ‘Let me come with you!’ She shot him a quick glance. ‘Oh, Joanna, not for that !’ He grinned. ‘Remember, I offered my aid before you flung yourself into my arms.’

‘You did,’ she agreed.

‘Well, then! Can you not trust me?’

She went on staring at him, as if her very life depended on her decision.

Which, Josse thought, perhaps it did.

‘I-’ she began. Then, more firmly, ‘Let me think about it.’

‘What is there to think about?’

‘You don’t know!’ she shouted, angry suddenly. ‘It’s not as simple as you seem to think, sir knight! There are many things to weigh up and only I can do so.’

‘Can’t I help?’

‘No, you can’t.’ Anger gone, she gave him a sudden sweet smile. ‘Yes, I dare say you could in fact be very helpful and I can’t say I’m not tempted. But I need some time on my own. To think it all through, without you going and confusing me by kissing me again.’ Now the smile was wide and free, and he could see just how beautiful a woman she was.

‘ Me kissing you ?’ he murmured.

‘I’m going now,’ she announced, tightening the cord around her waist. ‘You mustn’t follow me. If you do, you’ll never see me again.’