Elisabeth Hobbes - A Midsummer Knight's Kiss

When Geoffrey had disappeared round the corner Rowenna turned back to Robbie, intending to apologise for the unwanted intrusion. She found he was looking at her with interest and amusement in his deep brown eyes. A grin was spreading across his lips. She folded her arms and held his gaze.

‘Is something wrong, Robbie?’ she asked sharply.

‘Nothing is wrong at all. I am merely remembering how the Rowenna I left s-seven years ago would have responded to your acquaintance’s none-too-subtle hints.’ His eyes flickered downward, then settled on her face. ‘Have you become a lady, Ro?’

Approval and wonder were clear in his voice, laced with something else.

A touch of jealousy as he spoke of Geoffrey?

Admiration?

Attraction?

The idea thrilled her. Years of mastering her impulses and behaving with decorum and grace had paid their dues. The urge rose up to throw her arms round Robbie’s lean frame and pull him into a wild dance. She fought it down, knowing that would prove the lie to what he had said. Instead she inclined her head in acknowledgement, regarding him with a half-smile, though inside she sang triumphantly at his words.

‘I’m trying to be. As you say, Robbie, that was seven years ago. Did you really expect me to be running around barefoot chasing after a pig’s bladder?’

He looked a little guilty and she realised with a jolt of dismay that must be exactly what he was thinking.

‘I finally tired of your grandmother’s cane,’ she said. She drew her hand out from beneath the cloak and held it out, palm upturned. ‘Do you remember the whipping we got after the geese in the orchard? I still have a scar.’

She rubbed her thumb over the soft, plump mound between her first two fingers. Robbie took hold of her hand and lifted it to the light, cupping it in his palm. His hand was warmer than hers and the small hairs on the back of her hand and arm stood on end. Robbie was looking at her hand and to avoid looking at his face in case hers revealed something she did not want him to see, she kept her eyes on the scars. They were small, white marks about the size of grains of wheat along the ridge between her palm and fingers.

‘You grazed your hand falling from the tree. I remember.’

‘Jumping! Not falling!’ Her pride momentarily overcame any intention to act as a lady. ‘You’re right, though. It bled and hurt so much when she whipped me, too. After you left I vowed that would be the last time she would use her cane on me.’

‘I’m pleased she didn’t hurt you again.’ He looked at her earnestly. She saw the boy’s eyes peering out from the man’s face, bearing the familiar expression of protectiveness and outrage he had worn whenever Lady Danby disciplined Rowenna too harshly.

‘Oh, Robbie, I have missed you. You always think the best of me. Of course, it wasn’t the last time, but I made an effort for it not to happen without very good reason.’

She didn’t tell him about the deeper wounds that had left scars on her heart, not her flesh—that a bastard’s daughter would never have a place in society. Widowhood had released Lady Danby from the trial of tempering her nature in front of her late husband and as she had aged her tongue had become freer and crueller. But she was still Robbie’s grandmother and he would not learn of her unkindness from Rowenna. If she had not loved Robbie so dearly she would have been racked with envy that his birth and position ensured him a path through life with an ease she would never have.

Feeling more confident in their intimacy, she put her arm under Robbie’s, drawing him close to her side. He looked at her and his eyes flashed with a new light of interest that made sparks burst in Rowenna’s chest like a hammer striking hot iron.

She stumbled, turning her foot on a pile of rough stones and slipping from the kerb, bumping into him in the process. His hand shot out, catching her in the small of her back to steady her. He slid it further around her waist until it came to rest on her hip and drew her close to his side. Rowenna bowed her head to hide the flush of embarrassment that raced across her cheeks. She, who was as sure-footed as a goat and could walk these streets with her eyes closed, had no reason to be stumbling and tripping in such an ungainly manner.

‘Here we are,’ she told him. They stopped opposite a large two-storey house set back from the road with Hal’s workroom on the ground floor and their living quarters above. Robbie let out a low whistle of surprise and appreciation. Rowenna grinned, realising he had not seen the new house.

‘Father bought it last year when he received a commission for ten swords for the Sheriff of York. He’s determined to have a house that reflects his wealth and status.’ A great throb of love filled her heart for her father. ‘He’s worked so hard to ensure his children would not be blighted by his birth.’

‘Is his birth such a blight?’ Robbie asked quietly.

A rich man who was still shunned by some members of York’s society? Whose wife and daughter were not acknowledged as they passed through the marketplace? Robbie would never understand that all the wealth in the world could never compensate for the taint of illegitimacy.

‘What else could it be?’ she asked, bitterness creeping into her voice.

She gripped Robbie’s hand tightly a moment longer, then tucked it under her arm and led him to the door. She had kept him to herself for long enough. Now she had to let his family claim him.

As Rowenna had suspected, as soon as they entered the house she no longer had sole claim on Robbie. Rowenna’s parents greeted him with delight and Robbie’s three sisters hurled themselves at him with shrieks of joy, even though small Joan didn’t know him, but the warmest reunion was between Robbie and his mother. Aunt Lucy burst into tears and clutched Robbie to her tightly as if she never intended to release him. Finally she surrendered Robbie to his father, who had waited silently at her side. Robbie had grown taller and leaner than his father, and there were grey hairs in Roger’s darker curls.

The two men faced each other and said nothing for what felt like a decade. Silence descended. Rowenna looked from adult to adult, all of whom stood watching closely. The feeling grew on her that she was missing something that everyone else understood.

Finally, Robbie took the hand that Roger held out.

‘Good evening to you, Father.’

The tension lifted. Robbie dropped Roger’s hand and turned back to Rowenna. She could not read his expression.

‘You devious wench! You gave me no idea my family was here also.’

‘I wanted to surprise you,’ she said. It had seemed such a good idea, but now she was not sure.

Robbie crossed the room and took her face between his hands, turning it up to him, his marble expression softening. Her skin began to prickle with the anticipation that he was about to kiss her, but he only laughed.

‘That you did.’

For the first time they were looking properly into each other’s eyes in the light. She examined Robbie’s with interest. They were greenish brown with flecks of a darker shade that reminded Rowenna of the burnt-sugar syrup her mother made to drizzle over Lent cakes. She licked her lips at the thought of them. Robbie smiled, creating tiny half circles at each side of his mouth. Rowenna wanted to dip her fingernails into them and trace the shapes.

She became aware that they were being watched. All four parents were standing by, observing Robbie holding her in such a familiar manner while she gazed at him like a newborn calf at its mother. An unfamiliar feeling of self-consciousness overcame her and she stepped back hastily before she inadvertently let anyone guess that her thoughts were careering off in wild directions.