“I was not sure if I should…if I should do such a thing,” I told him. “I was not sure if you would approve.”
“I most certainly approve, my beautiful wife.” He cupped the side of my face and held me against his skin as he kissed the top of my head. “I approve most wholeheartedly. Anytime you wish.”
Again I was unable to help but smile as he held me close to him and continued to place soft kisses against my forehead. I turned my head to kiss his jaw, not at all minding the feeling of his rough cheek on my sensitive lips. The sun was beginning to come through the window crack, and I was disappointed to realize there would not be enough time to shave him.
Then I remembered why.
“What is wrong?” Branford asked, sensing my distress.
“I am afraid you will be hurt,” I said. Branford huffed through his nose.
“I shall be fine.”
“But you could be injured. With no judge, you could even be…be…”
I could not bring myself to say the word.
“You do not have to worry about such things,” Branford told me. “If somethin
g were to happen to me, you would not lose your station. You would still be treated as my wife. You would not ever have to leave the castle. You would still sleep in the same bed, in the same rooms.”
I looked up at him, my eyes wide with shock. Is this what he thought my concern to be?
“But you would not be there,” I whispered to him as tears filled my eyes “I cannot imagine trying to sleep in that bed without you there with me.”
As soon as I said it, I realized how true it really was. Though I had spent most of my life sleeping in a communal room with many other servants, the idea of returning to that life was not abhorrent to me. I might have even preferred it. But to sleep in our marital bed without my husband there by my side?
Branford’s thumb brushed over a tear as it trailed down my cheek.
“Please, Alexandra,” he said softly, “do not cry. Tonight you and I will be back in our rooms, together, and I will stay by your side throughout the night, holding you close to me and keeping you safe.”
I nodded and sniffed.
“You do not have to…have to prove anything to me!” Tears burst forth, and I sobbed against his chest as he held me tightly. He ran his hand over my hair—stroking with his long fingers from the top of my head down to my waist. His soft kisses against my cheek eventually calmed me, and when my tears stopped, he turned me to look at him. After taking a long breath, I repeated my sentiment. “You do not have anything to prove.”
“Yes, Alexandra, I do.” Branford took my face in his hands and peered at me intently. “I have to prove to you that I am worthy of a woman with such a kind heart that she would risk anything to help a girl she does not know just because she knows it is the right thing to do. If I can be worthy of that woman—if I can be worthy of you—then perhaps someday I can be worthy of the crown.”
*****
Ida and I stood off to the side as Parnell assisted Branford with the light chain mail he was going to wear for the fight. He told me it allowed more maneuverability with close combat, but that information did not allow my worry to dissipate. He looked so much more vulnerable than he did in the plate armor he wore for jousting. There was nothing but leather protecting most of his body, and I was quite sure a sword could cut right through it.
My nerves did not calm as Michael led Vanquish over to an area beside the arena and handed the reins to Sir Rylan, who would hold the wagers until the contest was complete. Janet stood beside the horse, looking very much like the commodity she was—confused and unsure as to what was happening. Sir Leland’s page had already completed suiting up the other knight and was now off to the side as Sir Leland began swinging his sword in practice.
“Come along, Sir Branford!” he called out. “Quit stalling and prepare to be defeated again!”
He laughed as Branford ignored his taunts. Sir Parnell finished with the last touches of Branford’s battle attire and took a step back. He spoke low into Branford’s ear, and I saw my husband nod in return and take possession of his sword. They were ready to begin.
Ida gripped my hand as Branford stepped into the arena.
Branford’s face was completely expressionless as he walked with purpose toward the center of the arena. His gaze was trained on Sir Leland as he made an arc in the sand. I could see the muscles of his arms flex through the tightly linked chains of his mail shirt and the strain of the tendons in his neck as he stretched it from one side to the other.
Sir Leland walked in from the other side with a wide grin on his face. He swung his sword from side to side in broad, menacing strokes. I felt Ida’s fingers tighten around mine. She had not been nervous during the tournament games, and her reaction to the confrontation was actually making it more difficult for me. It confirmed the situation was as I expected and far more dangerous than Branford had divulged.
They approached each other slowly with swords drawn but Branford’s not yet risen. Sir Leland continued to hurl laughter and insults at Branford, who remained silent. Eventually, Sir Leland must have grown tired of his taunts, and without warning, he lunged at Branford.
My husband’s blade neatly blocked the attack, and Sir Leland danced backwards.
“Is that all?” Branford asked bluntly.