Page 11 of Silent Knight: Alexander

Alex didn’t dance, and neither did he want to stay here and watch. It made him feel different from everyone else. He reached down and rubbed his leg, feeling the muscles starting to twitch. He had to lie down. Not wanting to be noticed, he slipped out of the great hall and headed toward the stable to find some soft hay to use as his bed.

Once out in the courtyard, he stopped and surveyed the lit torches and hanging lanterns that gave an orange glow to the night sky. Garland made from winter greens was strung together and fastened from the mews all the way over to the stables and even over to the blacksmith’s shop. Snow silently fell from the sky, covering the courtyard in a blanket of pure white. His surroundings were so peaceful, but there was chaos in his mind.

As Alex trudged through the snow toward the stable, he pulled his cloak closer to hold in the warmth. Then, something caught his attention. There was a candle burning in the garden right next to a small graveyard. He ventured over, seeing the light beckoning him to follow it. Snow crunched beneath his feet as he approached the garden, noticing the bramble of dormant rose bushes. And then his eyes dropped to the wooden cross. Hanging off of it was a burning candle in a jar. The flame danced, almost mocking him since he could not do that. Below the cross was a board that had something written on it. He hesitantly reached out to brush away the snow. There, engraved upon the wood was a name. It read Peter Mowbray.

He jumped back, startled to see this name – possibly his name – on the board. When he moved, he knocked into something, and his bad leg gave way beneath him. Reaching out to steady himself, he realized he grabbed on to a person standing behind him.

“Charlotte!” he exclaimed, both his hands gripping her shoulders. Her body pressed up against his. Embarrassed by his action, he released her and stepped away. With him went her warmth and the essence of rosewater from her hair.

She was a beautiful woman. When he’d kissed her earlier, he’d been too lost in his thoughts to even notice the way her blue eyes lit up when she was around him or the way her lips curved in a half-smile like a little bow. In the light of the torches lining the path to the garden, her long, dark braid that hung over one shoulder glittered with the snowflakes landing upon it.

“Alexander, what are you doing out here?” Her voice was soft and light like the song of a fragile bird. But this woman wasn’t frail. He could tell that. She held the confidence of a queen and kept her spine erect, and her chin raised slightly. As he drank in her elegance, he realized she was out in the elements without a covering.

“Where is your cloak?” he asked, reaching out and brushing snow from her hair. He noticed the way her eyes closed slightly when he touched her. Her chest raised and dropped as she breathed heavier.

“I saw you leaving and rushed out here, not taking the time to gather my cloak.”

“Then you shall have mine to keep you warm.” He started to remove his cloak, but her hand shot out and stopped him.

“Nay. I felt your hand earlier and know how cold you must be. I couldn’t take your cloak from you.”

“Then we’ll share it,” he said, lifting his arm, inviting her in.

Her lips turned up into a slight smile. She stepped forward to be enclosed by his cape as well. Having her body pressed up against him was his undoing. He bent over slightly, rubbing his cheek against her soft hair. It felt good, and he liked it. Then he realized that one kiss from Lady Charlotte Ashworth was not going to be enough. He had to kiss her again.

She looked up at him just as he had this thought. Their faces were so close that he could see the tiny snowflakes landing on her lashes. He reached out and touched her cold cheek brushing away a snowflake with his thumb. “Are you warmer now?” he asked her.

“I am. Thank you.” Her gaze fell to his mouth. Lifting her chin with his hand, he waited a second. When she didn’t pull away, he took that as his signal to kiss her once again. The touch of her lips against his felt like fire, warming him down to his toes.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I felt that if I didn’t kiss your sweet lips again, I would go to my grave wishing I had experienced it just once more.”

“Grave,” she repeated, looking down at the grave and making Alex wish he had chosen his words more carefully. “Why are you here at the gravesite of Lady Summer’s stillborn?”

How could he answer? His was a secret that if proven to be true would change the lives of many people. It might be something he had to take to his grave after all. “I saw the candle burning through the snow and wondered what it was, that’s all.”

“I hear Lady Summer has not missed a day of paying respect to her son. In the summer, she brings flowers. And in the winter, she lights candles, praying for the newborn’s soul to go to heaven since he never had a chance to live.”

Alex’s eyes swept over to the grave. He found himself wondering if there really was a baby buried there. Hadn’t his father told him to dig up the grave if he didn’t believe him? If so, would he find bones or just an empty wooden box? Alex shook his head, willing the ill thought to leave. Surely, his soul would go straight to hell for even having such an idea as digging up the corpse of an innocent child.

“I’ll walk you back to the keep, and then I am going to find a spot in the hay and sleep in the stable tonight,” he told Charlotte.

“Nay, don’t do that. It is much too cold. Come dance with me instead, and sleep by the fire in the great hall.”

“I don’t dance,” he explained.

“Why not?”

From the corner of his eye, Alex saw Lord Dreyfis approaching.

“He’s lame,” said Dreyfis. “Of course, he can’t dance. But I have two good legs. I’ll dance with you, my lady.” He stepped up and took Charlotte’s arm, pulling her out from under Alex’s cloak. Charlotte looked back to Alex with wide, frantic eyes.

It was Christmas, and as much as Alex wanted to draw his sword and strike Sir Dreyfis for taking Charlotte away from him, he decided not to cause trouble. He didn’t want to fight after Lady Summer welcomed him to her castle with open arms. Nay, it wouldn’t be a way to show his gratitude or respect.

“He’s right, I can’t dance because of my leg,” Alex admitted. “Go on, and enjoy yourself, Charlotte. I am sure Sir Dreyfis will make a better companion tonight during the dance and festivities than I will.”

“But – I want to be with you, Alex,” she said.

“You heard the man,” sneered Dreyfis. “You can’t enjoy yourself with a cripple. Now come along, and we’ll share some wine and laughs after the dance.”

Dreyfis held on to Lady Charlotte’s arm as he hurriedly made his way back to the keep. Charlotte looked over her shoulder with sad eyes, almost begging him to intervene.

Alex reached down to rub his aching limb. His heart sank in his chest. Why had he let them walk away so easily? He liked being with Lady Charlotte. If he weren’t in such pain, he wouldn’t have insisted she dance with Sir Dreyfis.

Alex hurriedly limped over to the stable, finding his horse and entering the stall. Anger welled up within him. He wasn’t a coward, but now Charlotte would think he was. He punched the side wall of the stable with his fist, scaring a few of the horses. Then he laid down in the hay pulling his cloak around him and closing his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, the essence of Lady Charlotte Ashworth on his cloak filled his senses. All he had now were his dreams.