A Midsummer Knight's Kiss. Elisabeth HobbesЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter Three

      Rowenna glanced back over her shoulder. Robbie and Ralf were walking side by side a few paces behind. Ralf was looking up at Robbie with eyes already filled with hero worship even though Robbie was swathed in a plain green cloak that covered the blue-and-orange livery of Sir John’s household. When Robbie was knighted and dressed in finery or full ceremonial livery he would look even more attractive.

      She stopped walking abruptly so that Robbie and Ralf nearly collided with her. Where had that description sprung into her mind from? She hadn’t meant to consider his looks, only his bearing and the fact that Ralf was obsessed with knights. Ralf was bombarding Robbie with questions about life in Sir John’s household, but giving him no time to answer any of them. His dark eyes were serious and he nodded politely. It occurred to her that he might have had other plans and that her arrival had not been welcome, but she had been so eager to see him again. The years apart had increased her fondness for him rather than diminished it.

      She fell in beside them, with Ralf between her and Robbie, and gave him a furtive look from beneath her hood. A delicious fluttering filled her belly as she looked at him. The letters he had written to her had been packed full with details of his life, the places he had been and whom he had encountered. She had relished every one he sent, but nowhere had he mentioned how tall he had grown or how he had changed. In her mind he had been the same as when she had last seen him, only beginning to take a man’s form with legs and arms too graceless and long. He had grown into a man and a remarkably handsome one at that.

      Very handsome!

      Rowenna bit her lip to stop a smile spreading to her lips at what she saw and looked again. His hair was cut short in the fashionable style, barely grazing his angular jaw, which bore only the slightest hint of beard. Unlike the rest of their family he was not cursed with unruly curls, and his dark brown locks were smooth and thick, parting to one side.

      Her eyes travelled further downward. He had grown taller still since she had last laid eyes on him, but from what she could tell, the rest of his body had filled out a little to compensate. If his arms were any indication, he would be toned and muscular all over.

      Watching her brother impulsively throw his arms around Robbie’s lean frame, Rowenna had been filled with the almost uncontrollable urge to do the same. She recalled the awkward dance they had performed when they had greeted each other. Once she would have thought nothing of behaving in such a familiar manner as Ralf and hugging him. This Robbie was no longer the boy she had played rough and tumble with, but a grown man, and she was a woman now. The years apart had created a formality between them and to behave in such a forward manner would be unacceptable and unladylike.

      Besides, when Rowenna thought of the word hug, a wayward part of her mind replaced it immediately with embrace and sent her thoughts running head over heels down unexpected paths. She burned inside with curiosity to see if the rest of Robbie’s body really was as firm and taut as the arm she had taken hold of. It was an outrageous thing to think of her old friend, but she could not suppress the way her blood grew hot as it raced through her veins.

      Despite her wish to get safely home, she slowed her pace. Ralf was still talking, describing a joust he had seen and tugging on the leash in his hand in a way that caused the puppy to be tugged back.

      ‘Careful, you’ll hurt Simon’s neck. He’s only small still,’ she cautioned.

      Hearing the name, Robbie grinned over Ralf’s head and his eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement.

      ‘Another Simon?’

      Rowenna grinned back. Her mother had owned four dogs in succession and all had been called Simon. It seemed to be a private joke between her parents.

      ‘Mother says if something works she doesn’t see a reason to change it.’

      She stopped short of grumbling that Mother would be content to stay in Ravenscrag for her whole life, despite having been born and brought up in York. She led Robbie into a narrow street between two closely packed rows of houses. During the day the shutters were thrown back so shopkeepers could display their wares. The street would be alive with noise and bustle. Now it was quiet and, though the evening was light, the houses loomed above, blocking out the rising moon. Rowenna edged a little closer to her companions and saw Robbie’s hand slip to the pommel of the sword at his side. He saw her glance and grinned, drawing his cloak back to reveal more of his weapon. The gesture was heartening. Robbie would have spent much of his time in Sir John’s service learning to fight. If they did encounter any danger, he would protect her, as he had always done.

      They walked in silence. Rowenna’s mind had been overflowing with things she wanted to say ever since she had learned Robbie was returning, but now they all seemed dull or too personal.

      ‘You don’t mind me claiming you tonight?’ she asked eventually.

      ‘Why would I mind?’

      ‘I thought perhaps you might have other engagements, having just arrived in the city.’

      He was silent for a moment, his brows knotting as if some matter had only just occurred to him, but then he shrugged.

      ‘I did, but nothing that could not wait until m-morning. When I have not seen you for so long I would be glad for you to claim me at any time you choose.’

      ‘Sir John said you hope to be successful tomorrow. What are you doing?’

      ‘Tomorrow is the first day of the tournament.’

      Ralf had been listening quietly, but could not help interrupting with excitement, tugging on Robbie’s sleeve. ‘You are competing in the tournament? But you aren’t knighted yet!’

      Rowenna hid her annoyance that her brother was intruding. If only Father had allowed her to collect Robbie alone as she had begged.

      ‘There will be a bohort for anyone who is not yet knighted, as well as the formal tournament,’ Robbie explained, smiling at them both. ‘I sh-shan’t be competing against knights, only squires.’

      ‘Will you joust?’ Ralf interrupted.

      Robbie shook his head. ‘I may take part in the ring tilting, but I’m better with the sword and better s-still with a bow.’

      ‘Not the joust?’ Rowenna asked. ‘You used to enjoy that. Your father will be disappointed.’

      The joust was the most prestigious event and the one with the chance of winning the greatest prize. Uncle Roger, Robbie’s father, had apparently been a keen jouster when he was younger. An injury at some point had weakened his shoulder and now he rarely held a lance.

      ‘I used to, but then I stopped. I will shine on my own, not walk in his shadow.’ A determined light filled Robbie’s eyes and his chin came up, giving his face a startling vitality. ‘I prefer to choose my own path to success.’

      Rowenna bit her lip to hide her astonishment, hearing the fire in his voice. For his son to reject the discipline he had loved would strike Roger hard. Perhaps Robbie would say differently when he arrived at the house to discover his parents present. The street was busier as they rounded the corner into Aldwark. The small herb garden in front of the