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Lord Gawain's Forbidden Mistress
Carol Townend
FORBIDDEN FRUIT ALWAYS TASTES THE SWEETEST…Elise keeps her cards close to her chest. Few people know that she’s also Blanchefleur le Fay, the celebrated singer. But she has an even greater secret… Her baby daughter is the result of a brief but intense affair with Gawain, Count of Meaux.Duty-bound to marry, Gawain is back in Troyes to meet his bride. So why can’t he stop thinking about the sweet silver-voiced girl he met the last time he was there?And when he finds his mistress again Gawain must choose between duty… and forbidden desire.Knights of Champagne: three swordsmen for three ladies
DUTY, HONOUR, TRUTH, VALOUR
The tenets of the Knights of Champagne will be sorely tested in this exciting Medieval mini-series by
Carol Townend
The pounding of hooves, the cold snap of air, a knight’s colours flying high across the roaring crowd—nothing rivals a tourney. The chance to prove his worth is at the beating heart of any knight.
And tournaments bring other dangers too. Scoundrels, thieves, murderers and worse are all drawn towards a town bursting with deep pockets, flowing wine and wanton women.
Only these three knights stand in their way. But what of the women who stand beside them?
Find out in
Carol Townend’s
LORD GAWAIN’S FORBIDDEN MISTRESS
available now
AUTHOR NOTE (#ulink_92d988b8-b3ce-55b0-9e7d-8c76f5be5ded)
Arthurian myths and legends have been popular for hundreds of years. Dashing knights worship beautiful ladies, fight for honour—and sometimes lose honour! Some of the earliest versions of these stories were written in the twelfth century by an influential poet called Chrétien de Troyes. Troyes was the walled city in the county of Champagne where Chrétien lived and worked. His patron, Countess Marie of Champagne, was a princess—daughter of King Louis of France and the legendary Eleanor of Aquitaine. Countess Marie’s splendid artistic court in Troyes rivalled Queen Eleanor’s in Poitiers.
The books in my Knights of Champagne mini-series are not an attempt to rework the Arthurian myths and legends. They are original romances set around the Troyes court. I wanted to tell the stories of some of the lords and ladies who might have inspired Chrétien—and I was keen to give the ladies a more active role, since Chrétien’s ladies tend to be too passive for today’s reader.
Apart from Count Henry and Countess Marie, of whom we have brief glances, my characters are all fictional. I have used the layout of the medieval city to create my Troyes, but these books are first and foremost fictional.
Lord Gawain’s Forbidden Mistress
Carol Townend
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAROL TOWNEND was born in England and went to a convent school in the wilds of Yorkshire. Captivated by the Medieval period, Carol read History at London University. She loves to travel, drawing inspiration for her novels from places as diverse as Winchester in England, Istanbul in Turkey and Troyes in France. A writer of both fiction and non-fiction, Carol lives in London with her husband and daughter. Visit her website at www.caroltownend.co.uk (http://www.caroltownend.co.uk)
To Melanie with love and thanks for always being there. (I won’t embarrass us both by counting the years in public!)
Contents
Cover (#u1259751a-9468-58f3-83fa-d7d60a0e1dd1)
Introduction (#u827325fa-baf5-5f04-b39c-35cf18f3feb2)
AUTHOR NOTE (#ulink_6a1bb6a3-a993-587d-90ba-f69d71cc9784)
Title Page (#u2681d031-d811-56a2-a55e-c7312ccdb10d)
About the Author (#uea9be868-e07e-5dc0-9a0e-c75a527e8657)
Dedication (#u1518eee9-3618-529f-956b-037d9abc6ca8)
Chapter One (#ulink_b1ef9a4e-af44-5141-ab91-6d773623358a)
Chapter Two (#ulink_325bb207-a853-5ea5-94d1-206e09f88af3)
Chapter Three (#ulink_b6b5c56a-b0d4-5cda-bcff-99ee029e8b93)
Chapter Four (#ulink_22301ab6-e2af-53e0-8860-084feb674ae1)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_d5a62719-e72b-546d-a8a5-c3d01a5f537d)
August 1174—an encampment outside Troyes in the County of Champagne
Troyes was bursting at the seams—the summer market was at its height and every inn and boarding house was packed to the rafters with merchants and housewives. Tumblers and singers jostled for the best spots in the market squares. Mercenaries and cutpurses roamed the narrow streets, searching for the shortest route to an easy profit. Indeed, so many people had descended on the town that a temporary campsite had been set up in a field outside the city walls. The encampment was known as Strangers’ City, and line after line of dusty tents filled every inch of the field.
One tent stood out from the rest. Slightly larger than the others, more of a pavilion than a tent, the canvas was dyed purple and painted with silver stars.
Inside the purple pavilion, Elise was sitting on a stool next to Pearl’s cradle, gently waving a cloth back and forth in front of her daughter’s face. It was noon and even for August it was unusually hot. Elise wriggled her shoulders. Her gown was sticking to her and it seemed she had sat there for hours. Thankfully, Pearl’s eyelids were finally drooping.
Voices outside had Elise narrowing her gaze at the entrance to the pavilion. André was back, she could hear him talking to Vivienne, who was nursing baby Bruno in the shade of the awning.
Elise waited, gently fanning Pearl. If André had news, he would soon tell her. Sure enough, a moment later André pushed through the tent flap.
‘Elise, I’ve done it!’ he said, eyes shining. He put his lute on his bedroll. ‘Blanchefleur le Fay has been booked to sing at the palace. At the Harvest Banquet.’
‘The palace? You got a booking at the palace already? Heavens, that was quick.’ Elise bit her lip. ‘I only hope I’m ready.’
‘Of course you’re ready. I’ve never heard you in better voice. Count Henry’s steward was thrilled to learn Blanchefleur is in town. The Champagne court will love you.’
‘It’s been a while since I performed—I was afraid that I might already have been forgotten.’
‘Forgotten? Blanchefleur le Fay? That’s hardly likely. Elise, it’s the booking of a lifetime. I can’t think of a better setting for Blanchefleur to step back on stage.’
Elise glanced at Pearl. Asleep. Carefully, she folded the cloth she’d been using as a fan and smiled to hide her disquiet. ‘You did well, André. Thank you.’
‘You might look a little happier,’ André said, watching her. ‘You’re nervous about singing in Champagne.’
‘Nonsense!’ Elise said, although there was a grain of truth in André’s remark. ‘But I mustn’t disappoint them.’
‘You’re afraid you’ll see him.’
Her chin lifted. ‘Him?’
‘Pearl’s father, of course. Elise, you don’t need to worry, Lord Gawain’s not in Troyes. He left to claim his inheritance.’
‘You’ve been listening to the gossip.’
‘Haven’t you?’
Elise grimaced, but it would be futile to deny it. Maybe she shouldn’t have listened, but where Gawain Steward was concerned that seemed impossible. His image never left her; even now it was bright and clear, a powerful knight with a shock of fair hair and a pair of smouldering dark eyes. ‘It’s odd to think of him as the Count of Meaux,’ she murmured. ‘He had no expectations of inheriting.’
‘Oh?’
‘I gather there was bad blood between him and his uncle. I know no more than that.’
André shrugged. ‘Well, he’s count now, so they must have resolved their differences.’
‘It would seem so.’
Elise was pleased for Gawain’s good fortune. In truth, she was pleased for herself. Gawain’s inheritance was her good fortune too. Blanchefleur le Fay had wanted to sing at the famous court in Champagne for years. Even the difficulties of her last visit here hadn’t killed that ambition.
After Pearl’s birth, when Elise had realised that Blanchefleur must make a truly spectacular return or risk fading into obscurity, she’d been inspired with the thought that she might stage her comeback at the palace in Troyes. It would be something of a coup to sing before Countess Marie herself. The daughter of the King of France, no less!
There had been a few ghosts to fight before Elise had been able to return to Champagne. She would never forget that her sister, Morwenna, had died near Troyes. However, nothing Elise could do would bring Morwenna back. In any case, if Morwenna had been alive she would be the first to agree that the Troyes court was the ideal place for Blanchefleur le Fay’s triumphant return.
And then there was Gawain, and the fear that she might run into him. What would she say to him? He is the father of my child and he doesn’t know...
But then Elise had heard that Gawain had become Count of Meaux and that obstacle at least had been removed. Gawain was miles away, claiming his inheritance in the Ile-de-France. The coast was clear.
‘What’s he like?’ André asked.
‘Hmm?’
‘Lord Gawain.’
Lord Gawain. ‘He was a plain knight when I knew him. Striking. A warrior. But he was also kind. Protective.’
Last year, Elise had been both surprised and flattered to have been the object of Gawain’s interest. It was even more astonishing when one stopped to consider that not once had she used Blanchefleur le Fay’s wiles on him. No, she’d simply been the shy and retiring maidservant, Elise.
‘Yet you fear him. You were anxious not to meet him.’
Elise glanced at Pearl, biting her lip. ‘I’m not afraid of Lord Gawain. I just wanted to avoid any...complications.’
‘Complications?’
‘André, Pearl’s father is a count. I have no idea how he might react when he learns he has a daughter.’
‘You’d prefer that he didn’t find out.’
‘Frankly, yes. The fact that Gawain is a count will not change his character. He is a dutiful man, a man of honour. I befriended him as a means of entering Ravenshold.’
André frowned. ‘What about Lady Isobel? I thought you’d become her maid to get into Ravenshold.’
‘So I did, but my friendship with Lady Isobel was untried. There was a strong possibility it might come to nothing.’
‘So you kept Lord Gawain in reserve.’ Eyes shocked, André looked at Pearl. ‘I thought—knowing you—he’d be more than that.’
‘I like the man, of course,’ Elise said hastily. In truth, she had more than liked him. She might have befriended Gawain out of desperation, but she hadn’t had to feign the attraction. Passion had flared up between them without any effort on her part. Sparks had been flying from the first. ‘I’m not certain he will forgive me. You see, I did deceive him.’
Elise bit her lip. Deceiving Gawain had been both the hardest and the easiest thing she had ever done. She had flirted with a man—she’d never felt comfortable flirting, but it had been astonishingly easy with Gawain. It had been fun, of all things. Initially, she’d done it hoping to discover how her sister had died. Before she had come to know Gawain, she had told herself that uncovering the truth about Morwenna’s death was all that mattered. But she had quickly realised that she’d been deceiving herself as much as Gawain. The liking between them had been strong. Too strong. They had ended up as passionate lovers even though she’d come to mistrust everything she felt for him. Was it really possible to feel so much for a man, and so quickly?
‘It’s a relief to know I won’t see him,’ she said. ‘Particularly since he is the grand Count of Meaux. André, he lives in a different world.’
‘The world of the court.’
‘Just so. We might entertain there, but it is not our world. But for you to have secured a booking so soon! It’s wonderful.’ She grimaced. ‘Except for one thing.’
‘Oh?’
‘Blanchefleur’s gowns.’ Elise gestured at her stomach and tried to push Pearl’s father to the back of her mind. ‘Last time I tried them, they were still a little tight.’
‘Rot! You’re as slim as you were before Pearl came along.’
‘You, sir, are a flatterer. Those gowns aren’t decent and Blanchefleur wouldn’t dream of appearing in a loosely laced gown. Remember, the world at large likes to think of her as innocent. They believe she’s been on retreat in a convent. The gowns—’
‘Try them on again, Elise, I am sure they’ll fit. What about buying new ribbons?’
