The Black Knight of Ashfern

Chapter 18

William leaned against Nan's bottom left bedpost, another glass tucked into his hand, though this time, the brew was more potent and of greater quantity. Silent, he watched her sleep, her back to him as she lay curled up on her side. When he pondered the intelligence of going to Carrie, he knew he had been right. If he had taken Nan as he had so readily and roughly taken Carrie, the creature sleeping so peacefully before him would not be doing so now.

She would be curled up crying, thinking him the foulest of beasts. She would call him the Black Knight and finally understand why many feared the remorseless bastard. She would finally know that the Black Knight was a creature of feeling over thought, caring nothing for the pain or happiness of others so long as the outcome succeeded in giving him the pleasure he sought. So intensely, he wished for her not to see him in such a light. That she would always look at him as she had that night on the street, seeing him, seeing a man, and not the scars, the money, or the reputation he was known for.

And he would not botch that. He refused to let her see his darker nature, no matter the cost.

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Leaving the room, William shut the door as softly as when he had entered, unaware that Nan's eyes flickered open as she rose to face the door once he'd left. Unlike Jamie, Nan had never been a sound sleeper, so she had heard when Sir William entered. At first, she thought it was Jamie, but had it been her boy, he would have crawled into bed with her, not stood and stared. Nan had felt her heart seize in her chest when she realized the intruder was not Jamie but Sir William, as no other would dare enter her room without invitation. Dreadful thoughts began to fill her head. Thoughts that he had come to take her, to finally lay claim and make the title he had given her as his Mistress true. While she had known such would come of their relationship sooner or later, she had expected it far sooner.

She had not expected him to be as restrained as he had been. She had never heard of the Black Knight showing restraint, nor to be as kind as he was proving to be. It confused her. He had been so cocksure and determined when he had made his deal with her, providing for Jamie whatever she asked if she would stay with him and be his companion. At the time, Nan thought his choice of words in describing her duties to him was his way of lulling her into a false sense of security. Make her believe her place would only be dishonorable in name, and while on occasion she had thought perhaps he truly did only mean for her to be his company, there were times when his actions made her believe otherwise.

Tonight, especially when they had talked of baths, she noticed how quickly his leg had lifted and crossed to the other. How his knuckles had gone white holding the arm of his chair and how he had pushed himself further into the dark of his seat. When he had left the room with such a hurried and vague explanation, she had thought it was to relieve himself of a man's pain. So, she had left the study and started for her chambers. She had not thought her assumption correct until she saw him riding from the stables as though hell itself was on his heels. She had little doubt about where he rode at such an hour and in such a state, and for a moment, she spared a thought for Carrie and the coin she would make off him that night. At that moment, she found she was not fond of the idea.

And again, she wondered about her purpose for being here. Was she to be his Mistress, or was she to be his friend? His actions toward her were so contradictory; she was having trouble deciding what to do or how to act. Be the caring shoulder to support his wounded soul or the teasing seductress to make him forget all his woes. She had never liked the idea of being his Mistress, though that had little to do with his scars or his reputation. Nan may have been a beggar, but she was not so without morals that she would not take issue with being the plaything of any man. To her, being a Mistress was little more than being a whore who received more and gave more than moments of pleasure. She had never liked the idea of being used in such a manner.