Reclaimed By The Knight. Nicole Locke
again.’
‘Ready to be rid of me so soon?’ Nicholas said, from directly behind her.
Louve was quick to turn, but she held her posture that bit longer, to show her displeasure. Sneaking up behind them meant Nicholas had come from the servants’ entrance. They’d thought him asleep and sequestered upstairs. He was already proving difficult—and that had been before he overheard their conversation.
Carefully, she turned, taking in the fine weave of his green tunic, stretched wide against the mounds of his chest, the thick weight of his breeches just skimming the strength in his legs.
The clothes weren’t new, but they were a wealthy man’s clothing. Tailored for him with a weave so fine that the green almost reflected in the hall’s candlelight.
Mei Solis’s seamstress had never been able to get the cut of his clothes large enough for him to move properly. But these clothes fitted him so well, it didn’t take much to see the man beneath. A glance was all it took to see Nicholas in ways she never had before. Always tall, but never this broad. Never this...lethal.
She raised her eyes and took in more of the man. His thick hair was damp and waving loose around his shoulders. His face was now shaven, revealing the cut of his jaw, the sensual slash of his lips, but if he had slept, she did not see it in the strain of his brow, nor in the dark shadows underneath his eyes.
She took a brief moment to acknowledge that vulnerability before her eyes met his gaze. And then all she saw was the calculating brown, the victory gleam he disguised in his expression, but not in the lit depths.
He was pleased to surprise them—and to overhear a conversation never meant for him. But it was too early for any victories.
‘I’m merely stating facts, Nicholas. Your need for adventure is no secret here. In fact, you made it very public when you left on one and never came back.’
‘But my arriving now proves that I have returned.’
‘It only proves that you’re checking up on us. Isn’t that why you were in the kitchens?’
‘I was in the kitchens to see old and dear friends.’
‘I think I see Mary,’ Louve interjected.
She placed her hand on Louve’s arm to hold him back. Under no circumstances would she let him escape. When he glanced at her he got the hint.
Turning to Nicholas, Louve asked, ‘The kitchens, huh? How did Cook react?’
Nicholas glanced at her hand on Louve’s arm. She’d meant to withdraw it, but in some small measure she took comfort at the simple contact, and she didn’t want to withdraw it merely because Nicholas’s gaze had suddenly darkened.
‘As she always has.’ Nicholas’s voice was even, but not friendly. ‘She gave me a thick slice of bread with an even thicker slab of butter before I even started my greeting.’
Matilda just stopped herself from digging her nails into Louve’s arm. This exchange was ridiculous. Nicholas had returned to Mei Solis to meet some agenda, perhaps to insult them all and show his uncaring soul, not simply to be fed. How could she keep quiet with a man who did not mourn his friend and had never replied to their letters?
She bit her lip, trying not to retort, but her eyes strayed to the doors and she knew Nicholas was watching her.
Nicholas smirked. ‘Would you prefer it if I left right now, instead of after the winter?’
He had heard every word.
Good.
Yet again she tried to hide her need to sweep past him and open the doors wide for him to step through. That would have been the old Matilda, the reckless one who had showed no caution. That Matilda had never served her well. Now, no matter how desperately she wanted Nicholas gone, a part of her wanted to be Roger’s wife and the mother of his child. To be calm, to remember that they had all once been friends.
She didn’t know Nicholas’s reason for being here. Roger’s death had been mere months ago, but Nicholas had given her no condolences nor apologised for not being here. Other than that time after his father’s death, when he had became obsessed with repairing Mei Solis, he’d never shown any interest in his home or the rich fields surrounding it. And now he gave no clue to his motivation.
He held neither the boyish looks of his youth nor the easy open temperament. This man before her was a stranger. Dark gaze, even darker mien. She’d never been friends with this mercenary.
‘Don’t be foolish, Nicholas. You apparently need rest, and the weather will soon prevent you from leaving.’
‘So you do show concern at my welfare? At my inability to ride because of travel weariness? Or are you afraid that I might catch cold?’
Louve almost choked on his ale. Nicholas ignored it. Matilda tapped Louve’s arm. Remember what Roger would want.
‘Of course we’re concerned for your welfare, and we haven’t had a chance to hear properly of your travels. This is your home.’
‘Ah, yes, my home,’ Nicholas said, his gaze roaming the hall. It was a brief relief from a gaze that always saw too much, before he narrowed it on her again. ‘There’s more than that that prevents me from leaving.’
A fissure of warning opened up inside her at those words. Most definitely he had some reason to be here, but it wasn’t for Roger. No word of condolence, nor apology for not being here to bury him. It wasn’t his home and it wasn’t her.
Louve’s arm tensed when she asked, ‘What could that possibly be?’
The victory light in Nicholas’s eye returned, and she knew she was the foolish one.
‘I’ve returned with bags of silver to make Mei Solis everything you’ve ever wanted. You will have the ability to make repairs, purchase supplies for a thousand new roofs or new buildings. Or tear the whole thing down and start again.’
Simple words. Insulting words. Matilda’s nails dug into Louve’s arm before she could hide her response.
The look on Matilda’s face was exactly what Nicholas had hoped for when he’d caught her and Louve unawares. The one she had denied him when she had turned away slowly to hide her response. She couldn’t hide her response now, and he revelled in it.
Petty of him, he knew, but he’d once found some balance in his life and now he could find none. Even his quarters, which were meant to be his sanctuary, had haunted and mocked him. He’d reeled when he saw the rooms, the evidence of all Matilda had done. He hadn’t been able to bark out his instructions to move elsewhere fast enough.
After a quick bath, he’d left to investigate the rear of Mei Solis and visit the kitchens. To greet Cook, with deeper furrows between her eyes from her frowns, and more around her mouth from her frequent smiles. It had been good to see her again.
However, not as satisfying as this. Having the advantage and striding up to Matilda and Louve, who had been looking towards the stairs and not the servants’ entrance. Reminding her who exactly she was. Someone greedier even than the woman who’d killed his father.
Mei Solis had been crumbling down, its roof collapsed. He’d ridden off to earn coin for their home—only to be shown that Matilda could spend his silver and have another man.
He’d dealt the verbal strike, but he’d felt a blow himself when her hand had tightened on Louve’s arm. Another man...any man but him.
‘When the light comes tomorrow we can show you what has been done,’ Matilda said, her voice tight.
Still not good enough for him. ‘So the work’s all done and the coin I bring now is unnecessary? Perhaps I’ll spend it on trivial matters. I notice my rooms need updating.’
Matilda paled, and Louve’s hand grasped hers on his arm. Nicholas tracked their familiarity with