Page 9 of Her Christmas White Knight

Chapter Five

The sky was dark with the threat of snow, and though the wind had dropped, the bitter chill had forced many people indoors. Julia had stayed at the street corner to sell her decorations for as long as she could bear it. But when her fingers were so numb with cold that she could no longer count out change, she gave up and went home for an early dinner.

Hal was trotting around the yard with their goose waddling along behind him, leashed to his wrist.

She dropped her basket and caught up with him. “Hal, you addlepate! You’ll strangle the poor thing.”

“I thought it might need exercise.”

“Not if we want to fatten it up for Christmas.” She had a handful of grain in the bottom of her basket, which she’d gleaned from a heap of street sweepings. “It needs to be kept still and fed well.”

Hal stared up at her, his mouth drooping. The goose tilted its head and gave her a hopeful look.

“To the Devil with both of you,” she grumbled. She collected her basket, fished out the grain, and held her hand hesitatingly toward the goose. It waddled closer and nimbly pecked the food from her hand. Its beak was hard and ribbed at the edges—the creature could doubtless inflict dire injury if it wanted to. She could remember the viciousness of her father’s geese back home—she’d never wanted anything to do with those.

But this goose wasn’t menacing. It actually looked—grateful.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms caught her around the waist and set her to one side. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Will Langley, who worked at—and therefore stank of—the local tannery, was eyeing the goose with considerable interest.

“Well—what have we here, Mistress? A skinny whippet of a boy and a fine, fat goose. I’ll warrant the latter was not honestly come by.”

“Get you gone, Master Langley. This has naught to do with you.”

She strongly disliked her fellow lodger. He had an unpleasant habit of taking great pleasure from teasing or propositioning her.

“What say I have a share in your ill-gotten gains? I’ll kill it for you. You don’t look as if you have the stomach for wringing a goose’s neck.”

“You will not. It’s our bird.” Hal launched himself at Will and kicked the man’s shins. But the boy’s shoes were so thin, they were likely to cause little hurt. Will reached over and hauled Hal up by his shirt collar.

“Take your stinking hands off Hal, Will Langley.”

The man smirked at her. “Or what, Mistress? What have you to threaten me with?”

“She has me.”

Julia gasped. Myall Farrar! Before she knew what was happening, both Hal and the goose were released, and Will was backing toward the open side of the yard, Myall’s sword at his throat.

“You’d not slay a man for making a jest?” Will queried, looking Myall up and down.

“You wouldn’t think so, would you?” Myall’s voice was ice-cold but calm. “You might look at me and think I have too much to lose by killing you. But that’s where you’d be wrong. I have very little to lose. Would you care to try me?”

Will’s head tipped back as Myall drew himself up to his full height and pushed out his chest. “The fact that I work behind a desk every day doesn’t mean I neglect the archery butts or sword practice. I could skewer you neatly, or break your neck. Which would you prefer?”

Will went white, turned abruptly, and cantered off down the street.

Myall’s triumphant smile was so delicious, it was all Julia could do not to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him until she swooned for lack of breath.

“I dislike that fellow,” he remarked, sheathing his blade. “I’d advise you to keep away from him.”

“That isn’t easy when he’s a boarder in the same house. I hope you haven’t stirred up trouble for me.”

His smile faded. “I hope not, too.” He glanced around. “I’d like to see you both gone from this sordid place.”

“I do my best.” She jutted her chin at him. “Do you think I don’t want to better myself?”

“I know you do.”

His voice was soft, his face close to hers. Will, Hal, and the goose were forgotten. Merciful heaven—her knees were shaking, and she was back once again on that balmy summer’s night, losing herself in the heady oblivion of stolen wine and the thrill of this man’s touch.