Reclaimed By The Knight. Nicole Locke

manor Nicholas had left to seek the fortune the estate so desperately needed, it had seemed reasonable to leave his friends and Matilda, his betrothed in charge. After all, he had intended to return within two years.

      That had been six years ago, and in that time he had broken their betrothal. Despite this, they had kept to the managing arrangement because the manor, families and friends had prospered. She had married Roger, and even if her reputation had been whispered about, her authority on settling disputes and ensuring that Roger and Louve could come to terms had never been questioned.

      ‘Tell me why you’re truly here,’ she said.

      Maybe Bess was right and something was wrong. On a day like today every man was needed to harvest the last of the crops. Louve was one of the strongest and quickest at the sickle, and every reaper was required.

      ‘I see no storm, and even if there was one, one of the boys could run and tell us that.’

      Louve shrugged. ‘None of the boys wanted to protect their hands from blisters. I, however, have many reasons to pamper my hands.’

      ‘For the hordes of women after you, no doubt,’ Bess interjected.

      Matilda almost snorted.

      ‘Exactly. I’d be useless to the women if my hands were wrapped,’ he said, with a curve to his lips.

      Everything about Louve tended to be irreverent, even in the direst circumstances. It was part of his frustrating charm. That coupled with his exceptional blue eyes and black hair made him the most pursued male she’d ever known. Though lately his attention seemed only for the widow Mary.

      ‘I know exactly what the women would think about your uselessness,’ Bess quipped. ‘They’d be overjoyed not to be harassed by the likes of you.’

      ‘Ah, Bess, still pining for me, as always.’

      Bess and Louve had been teasing each other like this for years. Bess, older than them both, was already married with a grown child.

      ‘That’s me—still waiting for you to get some sense. It appears I’ll have to keep waiting.’

      ‘Well, you know where to find me.’

      Bess nodded. ‘Lazily talking with us when you should be reaping the wheat like the other men.’

      Somewhere along the way Louve had picked up Matilda’s bag and swept more grain into it. It was then that his intent became irritatingly clear. ‘Are you here for me?’

      Louve’s mouth quirked. ‘I’m here to save the grain. Storm’s coming.’

      Louve was doing her work. The skies were still blue; there was no storm coming. ‘You can’t do this.’

      Louve smiled ruefully. ‘You’re working too hard now.’

      ‘And the baby is kicking,’ Bess added.

      ‘Are you on his side now?’ Matilda said. ‘I’m working because there’s work to be done. Crops are better this year, so there’s more gleaning.’ A fact that had them all breathing a sigh of relief.

      ‘That sack’s getting too heavy for you to carry.’

      She looked at the ground, thought of running horses to try and calm herself. When that didn’t work, she narrowed her eyes on Louve. ‘I’ll say this differently. I won’t have you do my work for me.’

      ‘Roger would have—’

      Matilda held up her hand and shook her head firmly.

      ‘Oh, dear,’ Bess whispered.

      But Matilda ignored her friend for now. She would also ignore all references to her husband. He was too recently gone, and though she wanted her baby to know of him, her baby couldn’t hear yet. Right now she didn’t want to be reminded of Roger’s protective nature when he could no longer protect.

      ‘It may be true...what he would have wanted...but I’m here now, and my crawling on this ground is a duty I need to fulfil. I’m not helping with the binding. I’m here with the children, gleaning.’

      ‘Stubborn as usual. What kind of reputation will I have if I can’t move a pregnant woman? I’ll never hear the end of it,’ Louve said.

      ‘You ruined your reputation when you were four years old, Louve, and you know it,’ Bess said. ‘And it appears—

      Shouts came from behind them. A young boy was racing over the hill. His cries were carrying on the autumnal breeze.

      ‘Did he say we have company?’ Bess said.

      Matilda turned her ear to the boy’s words, but they were still too faint. No one visited the estate. Up until this year they had been the ones who travelled to other villages and other markets to sell their wares. However, if the crops stayed this plentiful that would change. Until then...

      Panting, the boy stopped in front of them.

      ‘We have guests arriving?’ Matilda cradled her belly, supporting the baby, who was blessedly still now that she’d given her room.

      ‘Visitor,’ the boy clarified. ‘With two giant horses behind him!’

      The world...the ground underneath Matilda...shifted.

      ‘Steady,’ Bess whispered, grabbing her elbow.

      ‘How far out?’ Louve asked the boy.

      ‘Just outside the barren fields.’

      If they could see a rider coming in that direction it meant he came from the east.

      Louve glanced from Bess to Matilda and then back. ‘I’m closer than the others. I’ll get a horse and greet him before he reaches the trees.’

      There was nothing to be discussed. It was the only choice, given all the men were in the opposite direction and she couldn’t move her legs.

      Matilda kept her eyes on Louve’s long stride, taking him to the stables. ‘I will be well,’ she whispered. ‘Just give me moment more.’

      Bess kept her hand where it was. ‘You knew this day would come.’

      Matilda placed her hand on top of Bess’s. It was true. She had always known this day would come. Like a storm and the changing seasons. Like the endless rising of the sun and the setting of the moon. Like the certainty of time. She had known she’d see Nicholas again.

      ‘Always.’

       Chapter Two

      Nicholas rode guardedly towards his home, his father’s prison and the cause of his death. Mei Solis Manor. Ridiculous name: My Sun.

      It had been a grand gesture from an impoverished knight to his new wife, Helena of Catalonia, the sixth daughter from a family who’d gained wealth in maritime, but no title. His father, a mere knight with a crumbling manor, had had favour and connections with the English Court, and thus had been able to wed a woman of some means.

      Such happy news upon his father’s return. His father had been beaming with pride, knowing that with silver the rich soil estate would prosper with the right management and supplies.

      Nicholas, six years old at the time, remembered the day Helena had arrived. His father had toiled for months before, and the estate had never looked better. When the carriage had stopped, his father, eschewing custom, had assisted his new wife in alighting from the carriage.

      Chin raised, a tight smile on her face, she had stood next to his father. Her gown, almost white, had seemed to glow, made of some fabric he had never seen before. His first and only thought at the sight at his new mother had been, The sun’s light never stays.

      He had been right. Helena had had only a modest income from her doting family, and had shared most of