How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel by Stella Marie Alden Read Free Book Online Page B

struck your squire when I saw him wearing your colors. I thought ill-fortune had come to you.”
    “Glad you didn’t kill the lad. I’ve grown fond of him.” He stretched and wet his head under the water. “If you need to know, I’ve spent the whole day following my wife.”
    “Really? I thought she was locked and guarded in her room. Saints help us, tell me. Is she actually a witch?” He covered his naked breast like a maid and immersed himself fully.
    “Very amusing. And no. She has some kind of tunnel out of her chambers that leads into the baths.”
    Beads of moisture clung to his beard as he popped up with a grin. “How convenient for her. Bloody miracle. Warm water.”
    Marcus grabbed a fistful of scented powder from a clay pot and scrubbed his scalp. “Aye. It is. Where are the fires that heat it?”
    “Below us. There’s a man whose job is to throw peat into a pit. The fires heat the rocks. And I believe, if he stokes it high enough, it’ll heat a chamber under the great room and the heat will rise through holes in the floor. In the winter, it warms the whole of the manor.”
    “Ingenious Romans.” He ducked, rinsed, and handed the pot to Thomas.
    “Agreed.”
    Two other villagers came into the baths and settled at a lower pool; he kept his conversation at a near whisper. “So, tell me, where was your little gypsy today? Did you have to skewer a lover?”
    “By God, that’s what I thought when I rode after her, following the morning mass. Dressed as a boy, she was, with that mess of black hair under a cap. She mounted her pony with her legs bare to her thighs, sprite as a wood nymph.” He hardened at the memory. A man should not have to ache for his wife.
    “Get ahold of yourself. So who was she going to meet? Where’s his head? Or at least tell me you removed his family jewels.” Thomas laughed and splashed.
    He splashed back, only more so, until the battle was won. Only then did he lean back and reach his toes to the smooth tiled edge, liking how it contrasted with the rough cement. “The old miller. The one we met yesterday.”
    “Say it’s not so. He’s a happily wed old man.”
    “‘Twas the oddest thing to see. She had a large ledger of parchment under one arm and an abacus under the other. Definitely not a tryst.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “She was accounting?”
    “Aye, I saw it all, hiding from a copse of trees. And understand this well. When she bid farewell to the miller and his family, they were all smiling.”
    “She collected her taxes, mayhap some rent, and the man was smiling? I don’t believe you.” He scrubbed and rinsed.
    Cooled water trickled out on a lower side of the bath to be replaced by warm coming from an upper ledge, closer to the fires. “It’s all true. Then his family all embraced her. She rode out into the rain and did it again and again. First at a beehive type of dwelling, then at a shepherd’s home. She should be doing needlework, sitting on my lap by a warm hearth, not collecting taxes in a downpour.”
    “So why didn’t you stop her?” He finished washing, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared.
    “By God, I wish I knew. By the end of the day, she almost nodded off on the horse in exhaustion. I didn’t do a thing but follow. I was curious, I suppose, and not sure I wanted to give myself away. What in Hades is wrong with me?” He squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it, I am undone by her.
    “Don’t worry. You’ve always been one to study the lay of the land before jumping into battle. That’s probably all this is.”
    “Mayhap so. I followed her home at a distance, even though I wanted to pull the wench to my chest and cover her with my cloak. I actually care that she was wet and miserable. I do. Even though this is all her own doing. After she handed her horse to the stable-boy, I did the same but stayed out of her sight.”
    “A fascinating story, I must say. My day can’t hold a candle to it.” He smirked.
    Marcus looked around as