Page 59 of Hers To Command
“That’s what I thought. Now, my love, are you going to stay in bed all morning, or will you act as my squire and help me dress? I can’t manage all the ties and buckles by myself.”
“Gladly,” she lied. In truth, it felt like he’d asked her to help him put on his shroud.
Trying to shake that grim, foreboding feeling, she got out of bed and put on her shift, and pretended to be as cheerfully unconcerned as he. “Why don’t you have a squire?”
“Can’t afford it,” he replied as he put on his linen undergarment and tied it at the waist. “The food alone would cost me a fortune.”
She helped him into his shirt, and couldn’t resist running her hand down his chest as she pulled it in place.
He gave her a wry grin. “Now that’s something no squire would ever do,” he said, bussing her on the cheek. “At least, not one in my service.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Care to help me with my hose?”
“I think you can manage that by yourself,” she pertly replied as she went to find his gambeson.
The padded garment, stuffed with wool and quilted, should have been easy to find.
“Where’s your gambeson?” she asked as she continued to search through his clothes in the large wooden chest in the corner.
He held up something. “I’ve already got it.”
Feeling rather foolish, she said, “Do you need my help with it?”
“Need? No.” He grinned with sly devilry. “Would Ilikeit? That’s a different question.”
“You, Sir Knight, should have been a jester,” she said with mock displeasure. Even though dread gnawed at her, she simply couldn’t resist his merriment.
He’d put on the quilted jacket by the time she reached him, so it only required to be tied closed. He stood with arms outstretched, chin up. “Tie me, my lady,” he said majestically.
“Perhaps I’d ratheruntieyou,” she murmured, reaching into his breeches.
“God’s teeth,” he cried, jumping back when she touched him. “Now Iknowyou’re not my squire.”
“I’m your lover,” she agreed, sidling closer.
“Soon to be my wife,” he agreed, reaching out and pulling her into his arms.
“I may not be the best knight in the realm,” he said as he rained light kisses on her upturned face, “but I’ll be the most loving. And the most entertaining.”
She laughed softly. “I daresay you will.”
He glanced out the window again, and the jollity left his face. “Alas, my love, we have no more time for games. Unless my ears deceive me, Roald’s men are on the move.”
She had feared it would come to battle and had been dreading it for days, but the terror that gripped her now was as strong and sharp and sudden as if Roald’s attack was a complete surprise.
Henry chucked her lightly under the chin. “No need to look so distressed, my love. I’ve been in battles before.”
“Not for me,” she whispered, not willing to speak louder lest her voice tremble.
“No,” he agreed. “For far less important causes. Now help me with my hauberk and surcoat, and send me on my way with kisses and your blessing.”
He smiled, and she knew he was trying to be lighthearted for her sake, and loved him all the more.
Yet despite his efforts, her heart was heavy with worry as she helped lift the heavy mail hauberk over the gambeson, then tied the opening tightly. She had to fight her foreboding as she did the same for the armor that covered the front of his shins.
His surcoat of scarlet and gold, slit for riding, came next, and she tried to keep her hands steady as she pulled it into place and buckled his swordbelt around his waist. She bit her lip to keep from sighing as she helped him don his mail coif, the metal link hood with the neck guard that went below his chin and then up to be tied beside his brow.
After she put his helmet over the coif, she stepped back to look at him, her lover, her friend, her savior. With his visor down, he could have been an imposing stranger standing before her, a warrior sheathed in metal, and with a metal heart.
Then Henry raised the visor and revealed his smiling face. “No need to look so frightened, Mathilde,” he assured her. “I’m very well trained, you know.”
